One Bright Star, A Cup Of Sugar, An 18 Year Old, And An Automobile Accident

The Sugars

Well, I guess I don't blog as much as I used to. I'm never sure anyone is reading it anyway, but also, things happened that I love to talk about, but that I'm not sure I want to write about.

Last night though, shook me out of literary silence. Another Saturday night, another gig (The Sugars at the Night & Day), what's to write about, right?). Well, just when the mundane is imminent, the unusual, the beautiful and the horrible have a 3-way right in front of my face.

The Sugars were a long-standing date in my diary, a band I'd spotted a few months ago whilst watching other musicians farther up the bill. They surprised me, so I agreed to hand out some flyers for them in Manchester before the show, in exchange for a free ticket, which was nice. It was a good day to head out alone and catch some solo me time, whilst approaching complete strangers and thrusting paper into their hands that most of them didn't want, but were too polite to say no to, a) because I'm a big scary guy to those who don't me(!), and b) because I won the award for best-dressed flyer-person, wearing a nice suit for the occasion! The jacket of the suit was to come in handy helping to save someone's life later that night...

To be honest, my entourage and I didn't even watch The Sugars. We saw two support bands, went for a meal in Bella Italia round the corner (lovely pizzas, and great calamaris with a bottle of wine shared, adding up to about 13 quid each). We hit a couple of bars in the Northern Quarter and feeling a little lost for a 'local' type bar, decided to cross town to what is my Mancunian local - The Garrett, on Princess Street. Great boozer as I've said a few times in the past on here.

Princess Street, Manchester, By Day

Was all progressing normally, drinkie-drinkie, etc. etc. and then on the way there my friends dilly-dallied, leaving me to get there a full 20 minutes before they did. Which pissed me off naturally, but well, fuck it I thought, ordered a beer and waited. And it was in the waiting for others that I met a wonderful girl who merely wanted a light from me for her and her friends. And it was illuminated again; the notion that my friends have frankly stopped trying to be either interesting or interested in the world, each other, or me. It seems to take the attention of an 18 year old more and more often to remind me of what is beautiful in this life. Curiosity, passion, optimism, and kindnesses are what is synonymous with beauty, and it's old friend, 'the good.' I'm looking ahead to my life, which is now looking amazingly interesting, with my return to university for an MA programme I could only have dreamed of 6 months ago, with my 20's still alive and kicking against the impending hell of being another bastard career 30-something. Well, anyway, suffice to say, this young lady reminded this old, decrepid 28 year old that he still has something good to offer!

With all this beauty knocking around me, ugly and his good companian horrible decided not to let beauty completely hog the action for the night. At about 1:15am, I stood up to leave the bar and jump on a train home, only to see a man, no different than me, step into the road and get hit at about 25mph by a taxi. And when ugly happens, it really happens. I stepped across to clear the crowd away from this poor guy, fearing that anyone trying to move him could paralyse him. Thankfully the many drunk people were also fairly understanding of that point about paralysis, so not too many problems with controlling the 'mob' of onlookers. Still, it was Princess Street, a hang-out for differently-minded, and generally decent people. I, and a couple other people kind enough to stop and help in a constructive way, took off our jackets to keep this guy warm, and to place under his head. It was weird in a selfish perspective, to see my most aesthetic and non-functional piece of clothing become the most useful item I had in the world for ten minutes. I think the guy was ok, he was breathing and speaking when the ambulance and police arrived, and whoever he is, I wish him well, and a speedy recovery.

The good, the bad and the ugly, back to back to back, in the space of a night out. Typical!

Plotinus, Greek Philosopher

Tuesday 19th February 2008 - The Von Bondies

After a short break, following my 5 gigs in 5 nights effort, I was feeling thorougly refreshed and ready for more of the live. And what better band to go see than The Von Bondies, who having kept a lower profile than Lord Lucan in recent years, are making a glorious return to the British music scene, sounding tighter, brighter but definately not lighter.

The Von Bondies, in case you haven't heard of them, are a band out of Detroit, Michigan, who initially received some excellent exposure of their mad talents back in the year 2001 (yes, it really was nearly 7 years ago!), when they toured with little known obscure outfit, The White Stripes (who?! lol). Well, the world went Jack and Meg White nuts, and quite rightly so. But in all the hoo-har of those halcion days when The Stripes and The Strokes were conquering all, when freedom reigned, in the before-time, before 9/11, before government by terror, before smoking via hypothermia, before Orwell and Huxley's fancyful tales of tyranny became the pathetic reality we all live through today, in 2008, this foul year or Our Lord, we managed to almost forget about this band. The Von Bondies, if you ever pull your finger out and attend one of their shows (they're playing The Wigan Tavern on 29th February btw, which is in erm...Wigan, funnily enough), will remind of that long-forgotten musical genre known as 'grunge' (see Nirvana, Hole, Neil Young for a brief moment, and er, Nirvana - did I say Nirvana - yeah). But worry not, they all appear to know where to point their shower nozzles and actually smelled quite nice.

All joking and mockery-based humour aside, The Von Bondies are back, with old music, and new music, and it all sounds at least as good as it did back in the summer of 2001. If you wanna remember the days of freedom, of excess, heck, of good old-fashioned FUN, then well, watch 'em while they're hot - The Von Bondies. That's V, O, N, space, B, O, N, D, I, E, S, people. And I must make a special, much deserved mention of Leann Banks, the band's bassist. I was blessed to be 1 inch away from her throughout the show, and in spite of her having the hottest pair of legs I've seen in some time on a stage, I did manage to direct my eyes upwards every so often, to watch her absolutely blow ten bells out of her bass guitar. She is a bassist with immense talent and natural ability who plays those thick metal strings with the finéssé of a flemenco guitarist.

Moving on; there were two support acts as is the norm in The Night & Day Café, where you really get your money's worth on a gig night. Both supports were very cool, but a special mention must really go to a Blackburn (with Darwen of course!) band called The Sugars. Not been around long, but with a voice like Matt Bolton's on lead, a true blue wailer of the old tradition, and the sweet but strong dulcits of the majestically named, majestically talented and majestically beautiful Anna Greenaway, I know I'll be watching them again, and again and again at many fine venues in the future (not to forget their new drummer whose name I don't know yet, but will know shortly, cos anyone who can still pull of playing the drums in a knackerdy old vest like he had on has got to be worth his salt!). And that future includes venues near you, and venues near me - specifically, The Dry Bar (next door to The Night & Day Café on Oldham Street in Manchester) on Thursday, April 17th. Be there or be a manic depressive with no stereo. Also be there because I had the pleasure of talking to Matt Bolton after his set and he's a genuinely nice guy with bags of enthusiasm and a passion for singing his heart out, and you don't get that every week.

Another night of giggery, another write-up of buggeringly long proportions. Thanks for reading, keep on rockin' and if you're a Yank, vote for Obama or fear my wrath forever...just kidding. I think. Vote for him. Do what you want. No, vote for him and then do what you want, but only because I say so. Thankyou.