Clock Tower 1937

A40/21.90/1

July (so far) has just been so busy with Venice at the beginning of the month and regular gigs from Little Fish since. The only thing that has stopped me running out of hard discs has been the number of conflicting gigs (on July 13th there were 6 gigs I had to choose between). If all these had been spread into otherwise free days.....

The point of this post is that because I am  so bad at selecting the best pictures (or you could read this as generosity in sharing so many pictures with you), most of you will not have time to look at all the pictures and may find the rows of thumbnails daunting. Suddenly I have a few free evenings, inexplicitly none of the bands I follow are playing this week. So I thought I'd experiment with Lightroom and see what could be produced.

I have therefore created a Best of July slideshow page. Here you can sit back and enjoy a flavour of my month. As it is a slideshow you can eat your lunch, or speak on the phone as you watch. I'm not sure whether all the pics are strictly 'the best'. I've tried to include something from everywhere and make it reasonably varied, but not get too bogged down in selection difficulties (or captioning difficulties). So have a look and let me know if you like it.

SLIDESHOW 

Unfortunately the slideshow stuff seems to take a lot of space, and as it's flash, has some other disadvantages over my normal display. So I don't think slideshows are a serious option for my huge picture galleries

Tonight I flew back from Venice. I had a pleasant day meandering around , mainly sitting on water buses riding up and down . Not only does this give your feet a rest, but provides a kalidescope of touristic views as we sail along. I find this particularly exciting as there are photographic moments to be grabbed rather than pondered. I don't really do pondered, it doesn't fit in with 'restless and pacing'.  The key to a sucessful trip on a waterbus (touristically) is to go to the end of the route and wait until you can be first onto the boat, then you can sit in one of the 7 outdoor seats at the back (or on some boats there also some at the front). Sometimes I wear my mp3 player and listen to encouraging songs (particularly enjoyed the White Stripes new cd, along with many of the bands I rave about on this blog), sometimes I listen to the fellow passengers, many of whom are tourists and have strange tales to tell. The locals may also have strange and interesting tales to tell but I don't have any italian so I have to rely on the english speakers for my tit-bits. Sad to say nothing I heard was strange or interesting enough to find its way into this blog.

This riding up and down has left me with a red forehead; normally a little sun would not effect me so badly, but this english summer has been so poor my skin has not aclimatised to the summer sun yet. Fortunately I am not struck down, but have the mildist of discomfort by the end of the day.

Having planned to catch a suitable waterbus to the airport for my flight I  arrive nicely at the ticket office. The ticket-seller then tries to sell me a ticket for a fast bus to the airport at  €25, rather than the slow bus at €12. As I had made my plans on the bus taking 1hr 20mins, catching the fast bus would have been completely pointless and just left me hanging round even longer at the airport. So I didn't.

Ok so that was more detail than you wanted, but do read on, my point will become less obscure. Check-in and security were unexceptional. Strangely the airport cafe was the only place that I came across in my stay which complied with my guidebook's guidance on buying things in a cafe. First you go to the till and pay for what you want, then you take the till receipt to the serving person. In my case I had to take it to the sandwich person on one side of the till then on to the capacchino person on the other side of the till. The man in front of me got something completely different to what he wanted as he couldn't point at what he wanted and the till-person just interpreted 'sandwich' into a particular sandwich of her choice. I was a little better prepared, ha ha. Whilst I am not in favour of internationalisation (americanisation) I do think it a little cruel to retain this quaint custom only at the airport full of foreigners.

When we arrived at the gate at the appointed hour we found a screen announcing that the flight was running half an hour late. After a brief moment of annoyance I decided that half an hour didn't matter as I hadn't any exact idea of when we were supposed to get back to Gatwick anyway, and half an hour wasn't that long. So I found a nice place on the floor, listened to some music and read a book. Around the time we were supposed to fly a check-in type person arrived, so virtually everyone jumped up and pressed towards the desk. I and a few other sane people didn't. For a moment I did wonder whether I'd missed some vital announcement about there only being room for the first 70 people or something like that, but I don't think I did. After about 5 minutes of nothing happening there was a general drift back to the seats. Then comes the easyjet speil about people who've paid £2.50 extra being allowed on first, then childern, then people with an A on their boarding card then finally those with a B. Meanwhile 2 coaches have arrived to take all 140 passengers to the plane (yes that's 70 in each). Well I didn't pay £2.50, I don't have any childern , although I suspect 1 can be hired for less that £2.50 and I've no idea what you have to do to get an A on your priority; so I'm a B then. Most of the other B's still seem to think sitting(well most stand of course) on the coach is better that sitting comfortably in the terminal. Very few seem to have considered that the last person onto the coach will be the first off the coach. The first coach which is shared by those who have paid extra and a large school party departs. The rest of us get on the second coach. I am in the last 10 to leave the terminal. I think I'm probably around 85th on the plane, I get a seat; I get to Gatwick the same time as everyone else; Next time I won't be paying £2.50 or hiring a child either.

"Sono nella lista delgi invitati" , so says my note for the box office. Mab are not playing their own set at this special gig, but are making guest appearances during Franco Battiato's evening. In Italy Franco Battiato is big (tomorrow Peter Gabriel plays here).
I am lucky that I thought ahead and have the italian for 'I am on the guestlist written down as the box-office tent does not appear to have any English. Actually they seem quite amused by my note (PJ wrote it for me earlier this afternoon).
For the occasion I have dressed in my aged rockstar look - linen & silk suit with a stripey t-shirt. The invited have a reserved block of seats at stage left, most of them seem to be journalists and their friends. 

The show is due to start at 9, but nothing happens till 9.30. The orchestra is milling around backstage (which is a blocked off area to the left of the stage). The girls are also there and wave to me, which is sweet.

I am not familiar with Franco Battiato's music, but he has a ton of cds out in Italy. He starts with some slow numbers where he sits and sings. After maybe half an hour he introduces Lisa and Marina from Mab, who sing with him on 'Era L'inizio della primavera'. Its so moving my eyes threaten to water.

Some more songs from Battiato, then he brings back Marina and Lisa, and introduces PJ. They join him in singing Ruby Tuesday, the Rolling Stones song from the sixties. For the final chorus PJ's soprano pierces the venetian night and brings a tear to the eye.

 A few more songs from Battiato. All this time everyone has been seated (apart from the occasional drifting smoker) not least because the seats at the front were more expensive, but as Mab (with instruments) join Franco for what is to be "il vuoto" his recent single and title track of his latest album, there is a sudden charge of people to the stage. There seems to be no objection from Security, so I don't know whether it is orchestrated! This is the finale; this is Mab on the big stage; this is Mab in venice; this is wonderful. I'm so glad I came ...

The day rises brightly. I am awake at 6.30. Breakfast isn't till 7, so I go off to catch the early morning light and relatively quiet streets.

Cover quite a lot of ground before returning for breakfast. Excellent selection including very attractive tartes. Have too much to eat, but not quite feeling sick afterwards.

I have lunch in a pleasant outdoor restuarant need the beach. I just stayed on the waterbus to the end of the line and found myself at the Lido. Leisurely tourist lunch with spaghetti as primo course, Sole and chips for main course, strawberries for pud. very nice. still quite expensive.Its 3pm by I finish.

I've deliberately had a large late lunch as I don't know what's happening later, best to be flexible. On my way back to the hotel I decide to pass through Piazza San Marco to see how the setting up is going. On the stage I see the long (now blonde) hair which I recognise as PJ. All the girls are here having arrived direct from the airport. How lovely to meet them.

Three hours later I am on my way to the airport. I feel quite fresh after over 2 hours sleep. At 5am in the morning the M25 is quiet and the journey speedy. Everything moves smoothly at the airport with time for a cooked breakfast and off we go. I have some vauge feeling that there was some delay along the way but I wasn't in a rush and really can't remember anything specific, maybe it was fussing around trying to get euros from the unresponsive bank machine, or queueing for a boat ticket to Venice. My Lloyds bank card wouldn't give me any money and I was getting a bit worried as I had only 7 euros. Fortunately my John Lewis credit card was more forthcoming (more on this later). Its around midday local time and hot. The boat journey is quite pleasant although I think I'm beginning to doze off at times. Non-sense is quite close. I have looked at a map; I know where I am going; The boat stops at San Zaccarlia just near St Mark's square, most people get off, is this the end of the line, should I get off; no I know the san marco stop is at the other end of the square. Fortunately this is true. I wander through the streets heading for where I think my hotel is, and behold it appears in front of me, quelle surprise! (I know that's french, I can only do 'Prego' in Italian).

The hotel is very nice (with the view above). The reservation is fine, the facilities everything I need, the staff polite and efficient. I really can't find any blemish with this hotel at all (not that I'm trying to). So I just have a little sleep. When I wake it has clouded over and looks rather thundery. I pop out to have a fairly random stroll. Seem to have missed lunch somewhere so have a bit of tarte and a capuccino vaguely behind San Marco and an ice cream somewhere else.  The heavens open. It reminds me of London 24 hours previously, but warmer.

I see that the stage being built in the piazza san marco is huge. (Not pictured yet, see tomorrow).

Back to the hotel. Just relaxing in the bath when I get a phone call from Lloyds bank security department telling me they have thwarted some devilish criminal who has tried to use my debit card in Italy. I am not amused. Every week I get huge amounts of worthless correspondence from Lloyds Bank, and only the day before I left, I got a special notice informing me that they were increasing their charges for foreign withdrawls again. Nowhere in any of this vast environmental decadence do they bother mentioning that you can't use your card in Italy. Having established that there is quite a strong possibility that it is indeed the account holder they are speaking to, they reluctantly agree they might let me have some cash. How different to the John Lewis credit card people who phone 5 mins later to confirm that it was me who withdrew money from a cash machine in Venice.

At least I may be ok for cash now. Resturants in Venice are not cheap. I stroll around looking for reasonably priced quality. I manage to find one that looks adequate with Capaccio on offer. I also try the ravioli soup and the venetian calves liver. The capaccio is excellent, the other two are a little salty. Actually I am rather full by the liver arrives and I'm not sure I was able to appreciate it as I would have done with more appetite. Overall ok rather than special. Anywhere in France I would have expercted to pay 20 - 25 euros for the meal, here it was around 50 euros. By the end of the meal I am beginning to aclimatise to the language and am sucessful with my prepared phrase 'Il conto per favore'. Dining alone is a strange experience and one which I am initially unsure of; on this occasion I passed the time between courses by phone blogging (as some of you will know). In fact the only real thing to regret about eating alone is that I can only try half as many items of the menu as I could if I had an adventurous companion. On the other hand the cost of the meal would also be double.

Back to hotel, consider a quick nightcap in the bar, but after a quick glance at the guidebook wake up still in my clothes 2 hours later. No sign of knife weilding dwarves in red dufflecoats :-) or Julie Christie :-(

Its 3.40am and I am just returned from another wonderful evening with Little Fish and their lovely friends. I'm a bit tired, but quite sober after 3 night buses (and a half hour walk to pass the time when I just missed one of them). At 2.50 am I was at a bus stop in the hayes area where a dubious youth offered to sell me a dress that he had in a bag and asked to borrow my phone. I thought it prudent not to show too much interest in the dress he had for sale, so i didn't see it or even find out what size it was. Fortunately his mate came and suggested he try selling a leather jacket to a man in a bob marley t-shirt. Whilst he was away the bus came and whisked me home. All very odd. Previously I was walking along the bus route in the (fairly) leafy suburbs when I came upon a pub which was open and seemed to have 20 or 30 people in it as if it was 2.30 in the afternoon, not 2.30 at night; it wasn't like a club or anything just a suburban pub full of people. So the journey home was quite exciting and I felt better for the walk, so much so that I loaded this picture before going to bed.

Previously at the Lark on the park: When I met JuJu and Nez around 9 JuJu announced she was exhausted, and in truth she did look a little weary, but her eyes just showed a steel determination. Nez is looking and sounding fresh and relaxed (apart from concerns about the set up on the stage). The venue itself seems to have been done up since I was last here, and sports expensively mediocre lighting rather than the effective but red lights of my previous visit. When I meet several friends of the band I am not surprised to find an absolute faith in the band and their destiny. Rare indeed.
There is quite a wait until Little Fish top the bill, so I get through several pints of Guiness. Having decided that the lights are not going to be good enough for any great shots i thought I might as well relax and enjoy the show (although I can never resist taking a few shots ).
A little exhaustion doesn't prevent the band putting out another great set including an encore which envolved a certain amout of shuffleing of guitars ending back with the original (the other would have taken too long to tune). JuJu speaks of these guitars with the love that I reserve for cameras. All I know is that they say fender on them, anything else is too technical, but I think I feel the spirit.

I have to say that festivals like Glastonbury have never really appealed to me. Whilst I understand the creative strength through hardship concept for the artist, as an paying member of the audience apparently looking for a bit of harmless fun surely you would get better value by giving your £145 to madame whiplash for the full treatment.

I think that more difficult than removing the ingrained glastonbury mud from your prized converse sneakers would be choosing which stage to visit, apparently there are 44. Being an indecisive person I would probably spend the whole weekend wondering if there was something I was missing on another stage and studying the program with its huge listings of bands that I've probably never heard of and even if i've heard of them I don't know what they sound like. A few months back I went through an online music store listening to their samples of all the 'new bands' people were raving about because I got a free download with my mp3 player. I found most of the really disappointing and rather unadventurous. I think I chose the Kaiser Chiefs who are quite good.

So I thought I'd share my mp3 player with you (obviously not the player itself, but its contents). In honour of them playing at Glastonbury I played Little Fish 3 times - like chocolate I normally ration myself with the little tiddlers as after a month of listening to their cd I'm still expecting its uplifting qualities to wane with familiarity. Fortunately it's still as effective as ever, although from day to day my favourite song of the 4 varies, i can't help but feel privileged to be one of the ludicriously small number of people who own this gem. (You can actually listen to the same songs at their www.myspace.com/littlefishmusic so you can be special too). 

Next up is the Reverse Engineering CD which has loads of songs (around a dozen) and is a good listen. I also have tracks by Plakka (Synth city), Smatka (I'm sure some of her songs have more than one title), some sleazy synthy Soho Dolls, a little ditty from George Pringle. And at the end I have an extra-ordinarily rare demo cd from Mab. For no obvious reason I also have a couple of people you may have heard of: Patti Smith's interpretation of Feels Like Teen Spirit and Free Money by Penetration.  I won't say anymore about these songs, if I didn't like them I'd delete them (thats a recommendation). Looking at this I notice that haven't got anything from Ghostcat, Ophelia Torah or Little death who I enjoy on myspace but haven't got round to capturing for my mp3 player. I must do it this week ! In case you think my mp3 player very empty, I should assure you that I have another one with lots of cds collected over the years, and one rainy day I may share the contents of that one.

Due to my car aeriel being dodgey I hooked up my mp3 player to the car radio and was driving around listening to these songs. A warning about driving whilst listening to Little Fish - I found i was wizzing along. Many of you may have experienced this listening to what they call driving music (older readers think Bruce Springstein tape in an XR3)

So I spent the weekend not at Glastonbury, not seeing Little Fish.

As I have already said Little Fish are not only an amazingly good band, but really nice people. I have been meaning to go to see a band in Oxford for a while, but it's never quite happened. Little Fish were good enough to put me on the guestlist, so it would have been rude to have not gone. As it turned out getting there in the car was really easy (quicker than the tube to Camden or Hoxton). The only possible downside of driving to Oxford is that I can't drink. The venue was very nice, as I said somewhereelse (I think it was a text to someone) it was like the Barfly with a proper lighting person. It was a nicely filled room above a pub, with an appreciative crowd. I have to say that Little Fish stood out amongst the bands playing; the other bands were pleasant enough but both music and image were not distinctive. (I have a real phobia about bunches of boys who wear jeans and horizontally striped t-shirts in dull colours, they look like they've just been dragged away from their playstations and must surely rush home to catch some star trek re-runs). *

Having rambled on about clothes and image, Little Fish would be stars whatever they wear. From the the first drumbeat their show has an overwhelming intensity and a passion which is quite irresistable. So much so that I feel impelled to try to capture the experience in words (you will notice that I don't normally write much in this blog  about the music - I'm a photographer, what would I know about music or writing!).

Over the years I have seen many very good bands, particularly around 1979/80 such as the Clash, Siouxsie & the Banshees, Patti Smith, Blondie, Talking Heads, The Slits, The Jam, The Specials, Madness.... ok that enough for now, if that doesn't make you jealous then you won't be impressed by the others either :-) I vaguely remember fainting at an Iggy Pop gig at the Electric Ballroom or was it the Music Machine ? During one quiet august when all their photographers had run away to the sun I turned up at the Hammersmith Palais, on the guestlist as the NME photograher and photographed the Skids - I think they've just released a DVD of that concert, how odd ! Of all these bands I think the greatest were the Clash. If I had a time machine and could return to see any band in their heyday it would be the Clash. Technically their gigs were often a bit shambolic, I remember one gig where Mick Jones had to do all the vocals because Joe Strummer 'had a cold' but everyone said he'd just done so much amphetemine his voice had gone. But it didn't matter, the passion of a Clash performance was  without compromise. How many bands would carry on if the lead vocalist lost his voice ?

Anyway this was supposed to be a review of Little Fish; What I'm really trying to say is I've been around, seen a few bands and I think that for the same reasons that 25 years later I still love the Clash, after 2 weeks I love 'Little Fish'.  There are several other very good bands that I'm enjoying at the moment and I would urge you to check all the top friends on my myspace, but if you are the shallow type of person who is only interested in the winner (to avoid you having to miss tonight's episode of big brother I have done the research and can tell you) the winner is  LITTLE FISH (http://www.myspace.com/littlefishmusic) . This summer you have the chance to see this band at intimate venues, so do it and you'll be able to tell your childen you bought Little Fish a drink at the Bull & Gate (your childern might be impressed if you bought Wildblanket a drink as well) . AND go and see the Joe Strummer film 'the future is unwritten'

One 'rock n roll' anecdote  I missed out earlier was that I once met Siouxsie and Severine at the Nashville rooms, not sure who was playing (note to myself, check through thousands of negatives and find out) I think it might have been Penetration, but whilst I managed to ask them to do a photo, I was too starstruck to put 2 words together, it was just so embarassing, cos they were like famous.

* Just in case you should think my concerns about t-shirts with lines may be aimed at anyone I know, I'd just like to emphasise that you can get away with crimes against fashion if your band is really good (and probably if you only play in dark venues). Also having at least one member of the band who looks like they're playing in a band can buy the rest of the band considerable latitude