...Yes of course I was concerned that I had drunk over a glass of wine, despite the fact that I'm sure no harm was done.
So we went for a meal, mooching around in Soho trying to find a decent place. The end destination was a newish Moroccan restaurant on Greek Street which looked lovely from the outside and the food was delicious. The only slight problem was the poufs and cushions. It looked like a souk-esque relax and flop about type place but in fact the seating was desperately uncomfortable! But - oh, the food was lovely. And we ate too much. 3 plates of mezze each then a mail meal *then* baklava. Oh blimey.
It did strike us as strange that we were eating there on the day that Al Kaida had decided to blow up half the Moroccan capital. What are their tactics? So soon after the "war" on Iraq, they say "Oh, remember us? Your actual enemy" and concentrate on a continent which can fall prey to attack more easily - and it's a western tourist destination. Very similar to the Bali bombings. So the answer is: stay in your homes, people of the liberated west.
Anyway. Then we went to see The Dirty Three for the second time in a week. At which point with some deep regret I realised that at least for another few weeks, I cannot stand up for 3 hours in a sweaty room full of smoking people without feeling like I'm going to pass out.
But what a fucking great gig though. Warren Ellis (yes, it is strange that he is called that) is ... a perverse violin playing God of a front man. I mean, it's all wrong: he's an ugly, gangling bloke with straggly hair who wears ragged tshirts and a grey cardigan, buttoned up all akew. He tells stories in between all the songs that ramble on, and on. He plays with his back to the audience, in some sort of unholy communion with the other two, except... his energy is explosive. He makes the violin whine, sing, complain, weep, sigh, scream and shout and good god, the concentration and strength he pours in through the bow, he must get through them like broken pencils.
And as for Jim White. If he hadn't discovered he could drum then God knows what would have become of him. The man *is* drumming. Mick Turner is a great foil for these two mercurial nutters, a calm, quiet and patient presence, judging and watching to see what they want to do with the next improvisation around a theme they all know well, whilst Ellis stomps, kicks, shouts and drags this gorgeous wrenching music from his violin, and White, with his fluid, concentrated energy manages to look in complete, confident control whilst the drums and various percussive rattles and plinks build, and build in to a crescendo of magnificent virtuoso riffs and breaks.
They're so good they make me laugh out loud. There are very few people who I've had that response to, and last night, hilariously, after an intense last song, Ellis stood there, back to the audience his arms out, Jesus fashion: violin in one hand, bow in the other, theatrically spent. I laughed and laughed and like everyone else, roared because this may be the last gig they do for a long time, apparently. It wasn't so much adoration from the audience because it was in the old Camden Monarch - now the Barfly, a tiny venue. So you can't really hero worship someone doing their thing ten feet away, you join them in the energy and excitement of the performance and you play your part. By shouting and clashing your hands together as hard as possible.
I could barely see Jim White, which was a shame, I love watching him play. He's extraordinary. But in any case, about 3 songs in I had to leave Mackay in the main throng and go and sit down on the stairs, I felt so weak. How bloody annoying. Made it back in for the encore though.
Mackay loves them and managed to put up with the whole sweaty thing with a big grin on his face. I meanwhile am always reminded of the love/hate relationship I have with gigs. I love gigs, I just hate everyone else in the room. I accept the stupidity of this position, but I'm sure that most everyone else feels the same thing. Standing, knackered and overheating while 3 people smoke around me then someone lights up a joint, making me want to be sick all over whichever poor bastard is standing in front of me. What is there to like about that situation?
Anyway - what a lovely, lovely day.
I'm just researching the Nick Cave dates in June. He's playing the Hammersmith Odeon, but there's no sign anywhere of what the lineup of the band is. However the first dates are at the end of this month in Germany, so it's very likely that Jim White and Warren Ellis will be playing in the Bad Seeds.
On a different note entirely, today I have very tender pains on my right hand side around where my right ovary is. God knows why. Nothing negative appears to be happening so I hope it'll calm down and say "That's that" shortly, in a Punch Drunk Love kind of way.