Monday, April 16, 2007

Scaledown yesterday, 12 Bar tomorrow

What a boiling day in Soho. There was a remarkable old drunken character wandering down Old Compton Street, wearing bright yellow and holding a drink in his hand, in a sun hat, trying to make friends, but not in the same way that most of the men in Old Compton Street were making friends!

I found the Arts Theatre after being hopelessly lost for half an hour. It just kind of appeared in front of me, and I went down into the gloom and a bit of cool in both senses of the word. Nigel Burch was playing, what I think may have been a banjolele but I'm never sure about these hybrids. His songs were short, funny and very London. Then Sylvia Hallett and Wilfred Glenn got up playing Norwegian fiddles, which have an extra resonating string that makes their sound really sparkle- and the songs they played were really beautiful. Wilfred introduced them, and they all had funny stories- the best was about a man who fell out of an apple tree when he was scrumping apples and went off to the Blacksmith's to get himself some metal teeth made. The fiddles were patterned, with little white designs round their edges, like the gingerbread house I go on about occasionally.
I was in my party dress- it was a friend's party later- and I felt a bit silly till I started singing, and then I did not. I sang a new song, Poetry and Rhyme, which I'm hoping Paul Davey will come to play a sax solo on one day (rehearsing with him next weekend as he's doing an arrangement for the song I did fo Sara's birthday). And I sang January in Paris even though it's a winter song and it was hot outside. It was a really nice afternoon, playing tunes in the gloom, in that room with the vibe of a womb.

Today, I sat in the park looking at the sky through the cherry blossom, and looking at the grass through rose tinted spectacles. Bliss.

Tomorrow (that's Tuesday the 17th to the dateless and stateless), it's the 12 Bar supporting Martin Stephenson with his lightning fingerpickin'; I'm hoping some ex-Chefs will attend, I will be there singing my heart out for you punters for the measly price of 6 quid: what better way to spend an evening?


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