![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I see your ghost on the closed-circuit TV
Jun. 21st, 2008 09:37 pmThe Hussy's were very good, but getting to see them was more work than I expected. The ad in The Skinny had no fewer than three URLs but no time, and none of the URLs had any obvious time listed. Their wn website didn't list one either. After a search, one of the sites said 7pm if you clicked down far enough, so at seven I was there and reading some notices saying they were on at ten. So I went home and came back at ten, to find a support band setting up. After watching them set up and play - Ross Fairweather and the Billy Shears, tuneful stuff but not exactly up my street, seem like decent blokes - The Hussy's themselves were on. It was nearly eleven by then. They seem to have shed a guitarist and swapped out a keyboard player. Oh, and written a load of new songs, which on one listen are about as good as the previous ones. Apparently there's an album coming along imminently, which is certainly welcome. They were about as good as I expected from previous gigs, which was very, and then I went along to what was apparently the last Neon for the moment, which is a shame but was a good use of the rest of a good and very cheap evening.
The Hussy's's "street team" have a MySpork of their own, with vido and stuff. And if you've seen them before you may be interested to know that Fili's looking more of a rock chick every second.
Tuesday was the biofuels thing at the Forest. The high point of the evening was noticing a copy of Dreams Of Sex And Stagediving on their bookswap shelf, which is now on one of my shelves. The factual bit was moderately interesting, and the music after (with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
decomposingsoul on saxophoid) was intermittently shambolic (but not nearly as much as it apparently deserved to be) and reasonably coherent.
On Thursday I went beachscouting withsleepycinderell and princealbert We found a couple of nice ones and wandered around a maze of p(h)easant-infested farm roads looking for a landowner's house near Tantallon Castle (and found a big ruined house called (IIRC) Seacliff) before coming back. As it happens the camping trip was cancelled due to today's weather conditions, but there you go.
On Friday afternoon Ed came round and we wandered into town after chatting to a slightly ill Charlotte. Ian Kendall was doing magic on a table on the High Street, and I was surprised he remembered me. A good and funny show, as you'd expect - apparently he's had a mixed couple of weeks, as some bastard stole his wand.
In the evening I went to BlAlex and Marianne's 10th Anniversary bash at the Counting House, with loads of old faces and a surprise Brigid. It was good, and I elected not to go to listen to loads of Eighties chart pop at the Shitrus club afterwards, for some unfathomable reason. And today I spent the afternoon playing some game out at Mark's.
Clive Stafford Smith has written a whole article about the use of music as torture. James Hetfield gets a thumbs-down for not caring enough to give a serious answer ("If the Iraqis aren't used to freedom, then I'm glad to be part of their exposure."), although apparently Lars was quite upset about it.
There was also an article, today, about Jamaica, which my mum mentioned on the phone because she thought one of the hotels mentioned sounded like one we we went to a couple of times while we lived over there (but I think we stayed at this place, which doesn't even seem to have changed its name in 30 years), as well as other places like Port Antonio, the Blue Mountains and other stuff outside the big resorts. Must go back sometime.
The Hussy's's "street team" have a MySpork of their own, with vido and stuff. And if you've seen them before you may be interested to know that Fili's looking more of a rock chick every second.
Tuesday was the biofuels thing at the Forest. The high point of the evening was noticing a copy of Dreams Of Sex And Stagediving on their bookswap shelf, which is now on one of my shelves. The factual bit was moderately interesting, and the music after (with
decomposingsoul on saxophoid) was intermittently shambolic (but not nearly as much as it apparently deserved to be) and reasonably coherent. On Thursday I went beachscouting with
sleepycinderell and princealbert We found a couple of nice ones and wandered around a maze of p(h)easant-infested farm roads looking for a landowner's house near Tantallon Castle (and found a big ruined house called (IIRC) Seacliff) before coming back. As it happens the camping trip was cancelled due to today's weather conditions, but there you go.On Friday afternoon Ed came round and we wandered into town after chatting to a slightly ill Charlotte. Ian Kendall was doing magic on a table on the High Street, and I was surprised he remembered me. A good and funny show, as you'd expect - apparently he's had a mixed couple of weeks, as some bastard stole his wand.
In the evening I went to BlAlex and Marianne's 10th Anniversary bash at the Counting House, with loads of old faces and a surprise Brigid. It was good, and I elected not to go to listen to loads of Eighties chart pop at the Shitrus club afterwards, for some unfathomable reason. And today I spent the afternoon playing some game out at Mark's.
Clive Stafford Smith has written a whole article about the use of music as torture. James Hetfield gets a thumbs-down for not caring enough to give a serious answer ("If the Iraqis aren't used to freedom, then I'm glad to be part of their exposure."), although apparently Lars was quite upset about it.
There was also an article, today, about Jamaica, which my mum mentioned on the phone because she thought one of the hotels mentioned sounded like one we we went to a couple of times while we lived over there (but I think we stayed at this place, which doesn't even seem to have changed its name in 30 years), as well as other places like Port Antonio, the Blue Mountains and other stuff outside the big resorts. Must go back sometime.
