This weekend was wonderful and terrifying: like being attacked by dinosaurs (wow that’s really a Tyrannosaurus… this is amazing… oh dear I appear to have been eaten alive in a horribly gory fashion!)
This particular allusion refers to the reunion of Rome Burns on stage in Leeds – four years after we called it quits. There have been a variety of Rome Burns line-ups and a quick prayer was offered to the departed spirits of Matt, Stoo and Heather, before Daevid, Nev, Tori and I climbed the stairs and twanged a guitar string or two for our adoring fans!
Rewind! There were two other bands who played before us that night: Isolation Division and Last July. Isolation Division are a three-piece with a brilliant rumbling sound – almost a mash-up of goth and showgaze as the sound fills the room and your head and your lungs and bowels in an all-encompassing hypnotic style. Last July are always special to me. They are so different from Rome Burns (and reassuringly from most other bands) but share so much of our history and ethics that we’re practically related. With both Rome Burns and Last July essentially coming from the fens this means that we’re probably six-fingered in-bred cousins of each other!
Today they are a four piece. ‘Red-Sun-Rob’ and David are the string-pluckers and then at the bands core is Dvae the calm keytboard-bound musical centre of the maelstrom and Alix the voice, the face, the heart and the dancing boots. Love it all.
Rewind! I haven’t told you about the venue. The library itself is just adorable. My John-Betjeman-English-Architecture-Loving-Soul is in love with the Victorian bottle-green tiles and stained-glass and my more practical/musical brain is in love with how Carpe Noctum (the promoters) and the venue treats its musicians. Everything is done to make you look good, feel good and sound good. I can’t think of another venue that sneakily manages to get hold of your band’s icons and emblems to project behind you as you play. Little touches like that show that even in the small pub scene there are still those folk out there with an eye for detail and an ear for professionalism.
Fast Forward! But what of Rome Burns! Well I think we played a storming set. I think we were educational and entertaining. I know I made dozens of little errors (Alix from Last July and mercurial Mike from Manuskript, were gothic versions of the Muppets’ Waldorf and Statler as they smirked and sang ‘the real words’ behind the merch desk! ;) ) but this was a live show where atmosphere matters. We were silly. We were serious. We rocked. We crooned. The ritual is all-important and by-the-heavens did the band and the audience (dotted with familiar faces :)) sacrifice ourselves on the altar of ‘A Good Night Out’.
Next weekend we play in Austria, which I’m reliably informed is somewhere East of Norwich. We’ve got a full tank o’ gas, half a pack of cigarettes, its dark and we have our sunglasses on… nothing can stop us now!
What a glorious weekend. I know there are monomaniacs out there: people with singular interests, dedicated souls devoted to one thing and one thing only. Good for them. That sort of thinking makes Olympic champions and CEOs of major law firms.
But that’s not really me. The universe is too big and too weird and too wonderful not to want a piece of everything. So this weekend was diverse and random.
On Friday night we went to Minerva Miller's ‘Some Sort of Biggish Number’ birthday party in a place called Hearn Hill. It was brilliant. She knows such a mix of weirdos from a variety of scenes. The ridiculous and the sublime both attended and danced the night away.
On Saturday we got up and joined the disgruntled people of Britain in a march against May’s Brexit or to be more honest we marched in favour of unity with our fellow Brits and fellow Europeans. There was fear, there was doubt, but there was so very little hate. It was a good message, in the sun, with over a hundred thousand strangers (or 25,000 traitors if you read the Daily Mail!) from all parts of the country, young and old, from all parties and no parties. There was Patrick Stewart, politicians and aid workers and a bunch of roof-top revellers playing Beatles tunes, some amazing witty banners and flowers for the police at Parliament Square and hope… maybe not for the immediate political future but for the human spirit.
That night we went to see a couple of bands at Nambucca. Firstly Prometheus &Satyrs and then Serpentyne. I was exhausted after the march but was so glad that I dragged my aching carcass out again as this was the best Daemonia Nymphe gig I’ve seen (Prometheus is a side-project of theirs but I’m not sure what the difference is). Shy and lacking stage-presence until they start playing, they hid their faces and much of their instruments in streams of white wool like a flow of ectoplasm and put on an intense show of ritualistic chants and dance using instruments which I don’t know the name of even if they have one (I loved the double-bass thingy that was the size of a fiddle). Then Serpentyne took the stage. More conventional perhaps with an operatic metal style they still manage to carve out their own wonderful and original niche by combining metal with medieval themes and with an amped-up hurdy-gurdy… and the world needs more amped-up hurdy-gurdies.
Then on Sunday we headed to see my Mum for mother’s day and with a bit of research and some bizarre phone-calls to a church-warden in Norfolk, we managed to visit Chris Riddell’s toilet!
Here in a shed behind an ancient church in deepest darkest Norfolk, the ‘Children’s Laundrette’, illustrator and all-round raconteur was asked to decorate a portaloo and the result is beautiful.
There were strange omens and augurs and premonitions. Crows talked backwards and it is said that in the village of Little Snoring a woman gave birth to live ferrets, so it was not surprising that, for me, the event started with a peculiar journey via Bristol (rather than getting stuck in traffic at Stonehenge like normal) and I greeted our B&B owner by falling down her stairs and carpet-burning my left arm: a wound I thought I bore with great grace and dignity and I demand my purple heart or at least a George Cross for this!
Anyway, the whole point of Glastonbury is the people; locals and regular visitors, we love you all. So many friends. So many characters. So many square-pegs joyously blowing-raspberries at the round-holes that the world has set aside for us! We spent our days shopping and then for the night of the ball we dressed up as small shrubberies (I think officially Cecile was an Autumn Fairy and I was a Green Man!) and talked to similarly-attired folk in between bouts of drinking, dancing and debauchery.
The ball itself went well. We were treated to two acts: Professor Elemental and Harmony Glen.
I have heard the question from a few folk about ‘what has a pale semi-shaven quick-witted rapper in a pith helmet got to do with fairies?’ and the answer is probably ‘not a lot’ but he is fairy-friendly… in fact he’s everyone-friendly. Having built a career being ‘splendid’ to all sorts of freaks and weirdos from a variety of scenes he manages to captivate every audience he has. He began the set wearing his UK and EU jacket and promoting universal love and acceptance… and tea. If your politics are more divisive though, you needn’t have worried, as he ended his set with a quick costume change… into scarily tight silver Lycra for a disco number: an image that is burnt into all of our retina and can never be removed!! A fantastic show as always and I’m impressed how he managed to subvert the freestyle rap form into a fairytale.
After this there came Harmony Glen: a bunch of Lowland Highlanders (Dutch folk obsessed with Irish and Scottish music). Again this shows Karen Kay’s growing commitment to do something a little different and get hold of some bands that seldom get to play in our little island. They looked fantastic (very Mittelalter) and played with a ferocious all-embracing charm but I was initially a bit wary of their traditional Celtic folk sound as for me ‘folk’ should seldom be taken in straight doses but needs watering-down with a hyphen (I am, for-instance, a big fan of neo-folk and folk-punk!). I needn’t have worried though: as the night went on, their musical talent (especially the violinist) kept creeping beyond the confines of genre. There were little chunks of classical music and near the end of the set there was also an amazing version of Rammstein’s ‘Engel’ with the violin following the vocal line. Loved it!
I accidentally brought some trousers. Some future birthday presents that ‘I don’t know about’ were also purchased. Glastonbury’s ‘Never Open’ Library was magically open. The augurs were correct: weirdness abounded!
Like Cinderella, however, the ball ended too soon and the proverbial prince was left with bits of assorted costume unable to figure out which fairy had shed which ivy leaf, and as we drove home (via Stonehenge… I knew I couldn’t avoid that place!) my car attempted to turn back into a pumpkin as its exhaust began it’s perennial attempt to leave the rest of the car.
I’ve just returned from a long weekend in Bielefeld in Germany, seeing some friends, eating a lot of tasty vegan food, visiting a few sites and practicing my German, which is probably now at the level of a shy two-year-old.
One of the weird things was the discovery that Bielefeld doesn’t exist. If you are German you may know this but the existential joke (‘you’ve seen pictures of it… they could be faked. You’ve a cousin who lives there… have you ever met him?’) is new to me… and makes the place even more special. Like any awkward romantic, I think that travelling to non-existent places is always the best sort of travelling.
Whilst there, nestling between the over-active bell-ringers and collapsing new buildings (Einsturzende Neubauten! See, I do know some German!) we visited a few places that do exist. There were some local museums filled with wonderful art and history, a rather large and impressive goth shop, there was a Mittelalter Market with jugglers, swords and Omnia CDs, there was a beautiful castle which the Daily Hate-Mail in its usual quiet and considered manner believes is a hive of German Nationalist skinheads as it was an SS base during WWII and there were some amazing rocks.
Externsteine is amazing. It’s a bit like Stonehenge, if you put the stones in a forest next to a lake, then enlarged them a hundred times and built steps and cells inside them. The rocks themselves are not man-made or man-moved like the Henge but Medieval Christian carvings upon them are certainly the work of man as are the steps, the cells and the grottoes. Whether pre-Christians used the site for anything is debatable but the sense of awe and mysticism about the place means that it fits nicely with neo-pagan sensibilities.
To celebrate and remember this mystic location I have dedicated a packet of rare Westphalian Haribo to the gods in my stomach today and feel enlightened/greedy/fat following this sacrificial act.
This turned out to be a middle-class suburban weekend. We went to the rubbish tip twice. I contacted the council about a faulty street-light. We bought some ‘storage solutions’ from Argos. We tidied the shed and rearranged the spare room. We lived the middle-class suburban dream!
We also went out to Thea Heintz’s birthday bash that ended at Reptile dancing through to the early hours of the morning to weird and stompy music with some fantastic friends, whilst I tried out my sombrero cordobes and Cecile wore purple hair that glowed under the lights! We haven’t gone all ‘normal’ yet!!
Despite waking up to read of the death of an old friend it was generally a good day (I just thought of a nice recollection – at a party in a flat with no postal address in Gillygate, York, he told me about a gathering of like-minded folk on the coast he’d just attended…and thus next year I attended the second Whitby Goth Weekend followed by many many more!)
It was always going to be a good day because I wasn’t at work… but also because after sorting out a few emails about forthcoming artistic endeavours, I headed for the Southbank to see Chris Riddell and friends. His friends turned out to be Posy Simmonds (amazing illustrator), Liz Pichon (amazing doodles and shoes!), Cressida Cowell (famed writer of Dragon Training Books) and Neil Gaiman (man-who-makes-stuff-up!)
In many ways I would have preferred just to see Riddell as he can easily talk for hours and doodle as he talks, whereas this quick snapshot of writer’s and illustrator’s lives tended to flag a little as you had to keep being introduced to differing styles and new personalities. However I still walked out having learnt about more artists and having heard (and seen illustrated) a brilliant Gaiman poem about witches which I’m not sure if I’d read before.
Then I ran into the 44th Regimental Illustration Society (Jeff Stokes, Helen Underwood, Benedict and Susan Catley) who always make me smile and Laura Daligan and friends who entertained me and forced me to drink sloe gin against my normal tee-total tendencies :) We also talked about writing books, skiing, naked people, politics, and how Laura almost became Mrs Gaiman! What a talented and interesting bunch they are.
Then on to see Gaiman and the Gods (a great name for a band!) as Neil filled a hall with fans who clapped and whooped like our colonial brethren, as our hero read about cross-dressing deities and then was interviewed about his new stuff. This was where the revelations came. I knew about most of these but it was still amazing how much good stuff is coming our way. ‘How to Talk to Girls at Parties’ looks like being an amazing movie. ‘American Gods’ TV series should be good as Odin is played by Lovejoy! A sequel to Neverwhere is being written and a BBC series of Good Omens is being filmed later in the year.
Last night I played a few board and card games with some friends. Cruelly, they beat me at the them all, but I still loved every minute!
This morning, I dropped off Meridian (the greedier moggy) at the vet to be anaesthetised and blood-tested. I feel horrible for leaving her there. It's like I've betrayed her trust. She will not be my best friend when I pick her up later today.
I've been enjoying watching the proto-Dickensian 'Taboo' on TV and reading Warren Ellis’ ‘Karnak’. I guess it’s a great age for morally-superior, mysterious, brutal, bald, bearded protagonists. Stoo Goff must be so happy!
My weekend was about music. Firstly and most personally, some wonderful friends of mine allowed me to borrow their flat for Rome Burns to have their first band practice for years. And I do love my band. We made beautiful noises and mostly remembered how to play our own songs… in between the odd beer, feeding various cats, a photo-shoot, chats about powdered kittens (just add water) and much unplanned blood-letting (I injured my hand – I tried to offer my life’s blood to the gods of rock and roll but we eventually decided that what most god’s require is a nice cup of tea!)
And on Saturday night we went to see a few other bands: bizarrely and wonderfully, bands who all have some sort of connection with Rome Burns. There was Nine Day Decline (featuring Steve on guitar who Nev (Rome Burns guitarist) played with when he was in All Living Fear). There was Ghosts of Lemora (who Rome Burns shared quite a few stages with through the years). There was Manuskript (who bizarrely we’ve never shared a stage with, but Mike made our last two albums sound beautiful). Even the audience ended up being packed with faces from other bands and nightclubs and art projects. It reminds me of the bohemia that I live in… when not living my normal boring nine-to-five life!
OK a sentence or two about each band:
Nine Day Decline. A very traditional and complex sound but scattered liberally with musical gems and lyrical ones. For instance I loved the couplet ‘…she sold her soul to save her arse!’
Ghosts of Lemora. I’ve always had a soft-spot for their pop-goth style but both Cecile and I loved the weird new one which appears to be a disjointed fairground opera in many parts about ‘sweet satan’. It was just gloriously peculiar.
Manuskript. The gothic party band. In the early nineties, goths learnt how to smile and Manuskript haven’t lost their grins since. I sang along to all their hits but as always the biggest grins come when they surprise you with their collectively bizarre taste in cover songs. On Saturday it was the much-missed Horatii, a great poppy Nervosa song and an Altered Images song where Mike was electronically emasculated!
I am the killer of comics. Whenever I pick up a new series it will always face problems.
In theory I’m currently buying 6 regular series. I should be able to buy one or two comics every week and yet I haven’t visited a comic shop since the beginning of December. I’m getting withdrawal syndromes.
Tuki: Save All Humans.This is the latest series by Jeff Smith, the acclaimed writer/artist of Bone (which I thoroughly recommend to everyone because for many years it was famous as ‘the comic you give to non-comic readers to get them into comics!’). Jeff injured his wrist and it’s been almost two years since issue 3 came out.
Karnak. A Marvel comic, so it should have a reliable release date… but no! This is written by the amazing Warren Ellis and due to rumoured home-life problems with the artist, the comic has taken 12 months and so far only 5 issues have appeared.
Miracle Man: The Silver Age. I have a lovely flier for this: ‘Marvel Comics presents Miracle Man, coming April 2016’. So far, apparently due to legal reasons, this has yet to appear. However due to the long legal history of this comic (and I can bore you to death with that) another year or so to get this amazing thirty year old story in print would not be too much of an extra wait!
Empire 3. Even French ‘BD’s (Band Designees) hate me! I love Empire. It’s a series I discovered in Brussels in June of 2015. Two issues of this steampunk Napoleonic tale were published, then the third issue apparently disappeared.
Providence and Cinema Paradiso. Both written by Alan Moore and therefore worth waiting for. Both by small publishers, so you sort-of forgive the length of time between issues, however it is just weird not having an excuse to visit the comic shop for months on end.
In this time of post-truth political turmoil, religious intolerance, fear, hate and celebrity TV gameshows; here in the darkest days of 2017, what glimmer of hope is there for the future of mankind… well Rome Burns have reformed and are here to save the universe!! Like the Power Rangers… only with more eye-liner and less kung-fu!
OK, when I say ‘save the universe’ I really mean ‘play some weird and wonderful music unheard on a live stage since the halcyon days on 2013’ but it might help…
