Fancy A Seat?

My friend Sandy found this. I have no idea where.
But I would like two, a matching couch and
Richard Ashcroft sprawling across,
while writing a song and offering me grapes.
Thanks.

Off To The Motherland...

Well, er, someone's motherland.

So, my Anglofiler friends, I leave this Sunday for a U.K./Ire-palooza that includes several days in Dublin (I must assuage my U2 fetish and visit the Guinness factory) then off to London to see My Bloody Valentine's first show since Kevin Shields went all J.D. Salinger and dropped off the face of the planet. I got some musician friends I might be meeting up with (two of whom fit right alongside - and probably played with - My Bloody Valentine)... then revisiting my old stomping ground of Brighton.

Brighton was seriously such an amazing place for me when I lived there in '97 then returned for a month in '99. A Brightonian friend once aptly described it thusly, "All the good bits of London without all the shit." I thought that was pretty astute.

When I was 21, I went to visit a friend at a bar he worked at on the Brighton seafront, drenched from the rain (which blows at you with hurricane force from the sea), I walked in to see no one in the dimly lit bar except my friend behind the counter... and Nick Cave with two of his friends. Wow.

I suspected my flamboyant friend wouldn't know who Cave was but silly me, he did a duet with Kylie so all the gays know who he is! My friend took one look at Nick and then my awe-struck face and promptly quipped, "Now don't you go run and over, sit in his lap and ask for a record contract." Ha. After Cave and his friends departed, we decided to eat his leftover french fries because we were broke, hungry and thought that it would make a funny story to say we ate Nick Cave's french fries.

Several years later, I interviewed Cave and regaled him with that tale. You can read about it here. Despite what I had heard about him being difficult with journalists, I found him to be charming, erudite and very kind. When I told him my friend was too terrified to ask him for an autograph despite being the publicist for his backing band (the Dirty Three), he promptly took his tea bag out of its cup and signed, "This is my tea bag. Nick Cave."

I was very thrilled that I could tell my friend that she had now officially been tea-bagged by Nick Cave.

Anyhow... yeah, U.K. ahoy. I have no idea what I'm in for, who I'm meeting or what will happen but - should be an adventure.

Swervedriver Doesn't Lose That Feeling

2008 has become the year of the 90's Brit rock reunions. After nearly a decade long absence, Swervedriver brought back the magic in a spot on hour and half set last night at the Hendry Fonda Theatre.

Strange to go to concerts these days where there's no one under 25. Nonetheless, these are my people. Thirty somethings wearing Fred Perry and goth girls who remind me of myself from high school just a little older and fatter. It felt like home last night. Anglofiles were up front and personal but, alas, Adam Franklin just isn't the eye candy Richard Ashcroft is so we didn't take many photos. Sonically we were in awe, though. It was a great set even though Tatiana didn't get to hear "She weaves a tender trap" and I didn't get "Never lose that feeling." We went home quite satisfied and with massively ringing ears. Rock!