It’s been a good couple of days for music. First, last night’s Guillemots gig, which was totally tip-top-tastic and generally all-round ace. The disappointment of the first support act not making it was quickly turned over by Fyfe Dangerfield dragging the Guillemots’ saxophone player up on stage to play an improvised 15-minute avant-garde jazz set. Excellent. Their second support, the Last Town Chorus had made it, fortunately, because they were really jolly good, too – lush, slow, thick slightly country-tinged balladry, including a cover of David Bowie’s Modern Love which didn’t suck – it’ll be interesting to see them when they return later in the year playing smaller, more intimate venues, I think.

The Guillemots pretty much set the place on fire: the biggest headline gig of their career so far, and I don’t think I can recall a gig where I’ve seen so much love for a band before. The explosive reaction to Made Up Love Song #43 obviously took Fyfe back slightly as he grinned nervously at the crowd and said “You know what? I think it’s going to be a good night”. And yes, it was.

(all except for the utter fuckwad Russell-Brand-clone assholes stood next to me who talked – loudly – throughout the entire gig about how wasted they were the night before, how late they got up that morning, how they really shouldn’t be out tonight because they’ve got a lecture tomorrow afternoon, how they watched “some film, right, called Hotel, or something, about some like, hitchhikers who go to, yeah, Romania or Russia or Transylvania or something, and get all cut up and loads of sick shit happens, and man it’s so wrong, you should see it, yeah, it’s fucking awesome” and other such utter, total irrelevant self-indulgent wankery. If, by some miracle, you are one of that pair of small-minded tiny-penised cocktards and you’re reading this, then let it be known that I would happily watch you drown in a vat of your own excrement. Please, never, ever go to a gig again. Please.)

Anyway. Just went into to town to get some lunch and who do I bump into but Romeo from out of the Magic Numbers. No, really. He was stood outside Fopp and everything. I shook his hand and took a picture and he looked a bit confused. And then half an hour later, they played an acoustic set inside to promote their new single. Which was all rather exciting.

Video and stuff: Guillemots and Magic Numbers.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 23rd, 2006 at 3:04 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.