Last night, I managed to get two last minute tickets for myself and eline for the London Steampunk Spectacular at the Cross Kings. This was a bit of a last minute plan, thanks mainly to the fact that flannelcat couldn't make it, and was kind enough to part with some tickets for us, but it really made me rethink some things about the Steampunk scene.

The thing is, as a bit of backstory, I got into the Steampunk when introduced to it by some friends a few years ago. At the time, there really wasn't much of scene to see - a few internet sites, including the excellent Brass Goggles, the odd mention here and there, and a lot of people with some interesting ideas, making their costumes conpletely from scratch, cobbling together their creations with merely their ingenuity and patience. The interesting thing to note here was this was a scene that had grown entirely from ideas and fashion, with no music scene to speak of - one of the best examples of this being the excellent Clockwork Cabaret, a podcast produced by two girls from the states, playing an interesting mix of goth, burlesque, jazz, rock, and everything else than vaguely hinted towards the concept (Tom Waits and Abney Park, of course, being firm favourites). After doing some research, and looking at the whole thing, I pretty much marked it down as an interest, and even went along to the odd event or two, including the rather fun Telectroscope event (photos). After a while, I became slightly disillusioned with the whole thing, as things seemed to be going round in circles somewhat, and the groups seemed to be full of people telling everyone about the cogs they'd found and stuck onto an article of clothing, or the raygun they'd been making from a two quid nerf gun they'd picked up in the local toyshop. One of my more recent complaints was the fact that there was plenty of steam, but no "punk".

However, last night was a bit of an eye opener. We turned up, to find the usual types frequenting the Cross Kings, and found a few friendly faces. The organisers had pulled a masterstroke in getting Robert Rankin along as compere, who I had the pleasure of meeting and being a bit of a fanboy over later, but I'm quite sure his drycleaner will manage to get the stain out later. Mr Rankin introduced the first band, Saville Row a somewhat trendy-esque band which wouldn't have seemed out of place in the Hoxton area, which gave me my first realisation - namely that I'd previously seen the influx of various subcultures into the steampunk scene - a strong influence by goths, the burlesque and rockabilly scenes to name but a few, but it never occurred to me that the indie scene had their part to play, too (ironic, seeing as I'd heard very good Steampunky songs by the likes of the Decemberists and other darlings of the indie scene previously). The reason I'd turned up, however, was for the next band, The men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing, a creation including the ex-member of the excellent Creaming Jesus, Andy Heintz, and the comedian Andre O'Neill. I had heard them through the previously mentioned Clockwork Cabaret, who played their excellent song "Stephenson" (a charming ditty about the fact there were four notable men in the Victorian era called Stephenson/Stevenson, with witty repartee throughout) endlessly. This, I found was where the punk was hiding - the mind behind Creaming Jesus ha taken their punk sensibilities (if that isn't an acronysm in its own right), and injected a herty dose of Victorian values and debauchery in for good measure. The result? A punk "grindcore" Steampunk band, throwing out songs such as "Manners Maketh Man" (a tenet which was actually the motto of my grandfather's public school, and was drilled into me at a young age), "Charlie Darwin" and "I Love A Girl In Goggles". needless to say, they took the crowd by storm, and provided me with a reason to love Steampunk again, giving a dose of anarchy, gout and buggery into a scene which I thought had become somewhat staid and stewing in its own juices. So much, in fact, that I completely missed Ghostfire, the headline act, as I was quite sure I'd seen the best event of the evening.

So yes - definitely looking forward to seeing what comes next - and buying The Men's debut album when it comes out in the next few months (the aptly named "Now That's What I Call Steampunk Vol.1"). One thing you can be sure of, however - I won't be sticking bloody cogs to items of clothing, or telling you about the raygun I made from a water pistol that I picked up in the local toyshop for only a few quid...

So, it's been a day and a half since I gave up smoking proper - my last cigarette being at 11pm on Sunday night.

Those of you who have seen me in the past week or two have noticed that I've been smoking, but that's due to the method I'm using, which, as mentioned previously, is the "Allen Carr Easy Way to Stop Smoking". For those of you who don't know, this basically encourages you to smoke whilst reading the book, and only stop once you've finished reading. All the while, it discusses the pros and cons of smoking, and explains to you why you should give up. What it doesn't to is remonstrate, chide, belittle or patronise, all qualities in people I've seen who, despite their best efforts to persuade me it's a bad thing, end up being more derogatory than useful, and, once this has been achieved, make my previous self, and other smokers, go running off to light up another cigarette.

The book's method, however, seem to have worked. Talking about the nicotine pangs, which I'm admittedly going through, but really don't bother me all that much (it's more of a mild discomfort, instead of an urgent need which people describe it as), and the main "brainwashing" methods, where you end up in a vicious circle, believing that you can't go on without a cigarette, and there really is no way you can survive without it, I feel quite ready for anything that the next few weeks have to throw at me, until the nicotine has properly left my body, and the physical withdrawal abates for good - a time I'm quite looking forward to, in fact.

One small thing I have noticed since giving up smoking, which is the fact that time seems to be going a lot slower. I'm not sure if it's a manifestation of the withdrawal symptoms, or perhaps something entirely different, but it does seem to feel like I achieve more in a much shorter space of time. I've yet to work out what is causing this sensation, and it's quite odd, really.

I's Saturday evening, and, while I'm swearing at the laptop for not doing what I want it to, and stopping me from doing anything productive, I decided to spend the time doing something much better - therefore, swiped from djpsyche....

( Ten albums which changed my life )

So, it's been quite a week. As those of you who made it to last night's Dead Letter Office will have seen, I'm currently hopping around on a crutch, due to having had a rather sad little accident involving a swivel chair and my ankle going in different directions. Needless to say, the comparisons to Herr Flick and Lohn John Silver have been pouring inamshire . After having spent the best part of a day in hospital, and the subsequent few days hobbling around, the novelty factor has worn off somewhat, and I'd quite like to get back to full operating procedure again. The quacks, however, have told me that I've got at least another week or two until I'm off the crutch, so it looks like dancing, and possibly the 100m sprint, may be off the menu for a short while.

Otherwise, all is pretty good. I'm currently spending the weekend with the parentals, having not seen them in a while, and providing myself with a moment to get on with some work, especially in my incapacitated state, as well as spending the weekened in a sleepy little Buckinghamshire village, which always provides me with a healthy desire to get back to the bright lights and wonderful friends I have in London. Nicely timed, too, as next week come payday, where I hope to spend a little time catching up with people I haven't seen in a while, and fully appreciate my life in the Big Smoke.

So, to all of you lovelies who are spending their Friday evenings living it up, all praise to you. Whatever you're up to, I hope you all have wonderful weekends.

PS - I'm not usually a fan of such music, but some of you might know who this is for. ;)

Nine Inch Nails website
First page, "A note from Trent", after the beta release website boxy thing.

Wikipedia entry
Last paragraph, before "Musical Characteristics".

Come on Trent. Please? The album wasn't that bad? Surely? We love you really!

I really hope this is just some form of hoax, or he realises that, after a short while, he's bored and wants to get back into it. I've followed NIN for about thirteen years now, and they've been central to my musical tastes. To find that he's decided to call it a day would be such a pity.

(Oh, and please, don't give me the whole "but they were shit anyway" line - I like 'em. Lots. Respect my choices, dammit.)

Come on 2009, you're meant to be doing better than this. D minus. See me after class.

In other news, my foot hurts. Think I've sprained it. There. Bet you all feel better for knowing that.

Good night.

Come on, come on, shut the sodding Victoria line, and then I'll be able to ring in as officially snowed in!

1. Today, as I left my Creative Zen in Hampshire, I'm sporting a very strange music system. A Zen Stone, hooked up to my DJ headphones, a pair of charmingly named Creative Fatal1ty cans. Not only does this look ridiculous, as the player is tiny, and the headphones are massive, but also I'm terribly self-conscious, as I'm sure everyone else can hear my music, a pet peeve of mine on public transport. Still, hopefully should get my normal player back tomorrow, and can resume service as normal


2. So. Much. Work. Lots to sort out at home, what with getting flyers, websites and such done for people ASAP. Hoping I can get them all sorted before the weekend, but be patient with me if I don't, please?


3. Upside down cake for lunchtime dessert. Yum.


4. Sir Liam Donaldson's at it again. Although I can see that heavy drinking for young 'uns definitely comes under the heading of "a bad idea", my parents introduced me to the pleasures of alcohol, in moderation, from a relatively young age (I think I had my first glass of wine aged about twelve or so), and, as Damion Queva is quoted in the piece, it certainly taught me about it in a safe environment, and demystified the whole issue, rather than chugging alcopops round the back of the bike sheds because Johnson in 4b dared me to. Surely the issue here should be that parents who aren't ready to educate their children about such things as alcohol are giving a bad name to those who are willing to?


5. It may be a cold snap, but at least there's sun. I hear we may have snow at the weekend. Wrap up warm, gothlings.

Care to tell me your five things for today?

I do have a rather large post to make, at some point, in the near future, going over everything which has gone on this year, but, for now, as it's all winding up here at work, I'll just leave you with the very best wishes, to every one of you, for a wonderful Christmas, and a Happy New Year, if you're not one of those who I'll be seeing at Vagabonds on New Year's Eve. I hope the jolly fat man in the red suit gives you all lots of shiny, wondrous things, you get to pig out on lots of delicious food, and drink enough to kill a small rhinocerous, but without a whiff of a hangover come Boxing Day.

Oh, and I'll be keeping my eye out for this on Christmas Day at half ten on BBC1, of course...



Pip pip!

That was a rather good weekend indeed. Full of fun, silly dancing, great music, and happy, smiling friends. I'd say more like that, please, but it seems others didn't have such a good time of theirs, so perhaps if we could find a way of extracting the good essence of my weekend from the waste effluent of their bad weekends, synthesising it to produce more for everyone to enjoy, and then spreading it far and wide, that would be fabulous.

Friday evening saw me meeting up with tar0r, as it had been a while since we crossed paths, and so we managed to have a few drinks at Garlic and Shots, sharing news about what we'd been doing, and what had been going on with others around us, and then, later, somewhat squiffy, decided to head up to Camden for Sin City at the Electric Ballroom. Having only gone to Inferno previously, I was quite pleased by the mix of music provided - upstairs provided a range of eighties rock and glam, while downstairs was more nineties grunge and nu-metal - quite reminiscent of the stuff they used to play in Blaises every Thursday night when I was up at university in Middlesbrough, and perfect fodder for that Friday night urge, when full of booze, to bounce around the place, doing some very silly dancing, and making quite the arse of yourself, exorcising the demons of the working week.

Saturday was relatively lazy, with a late get-up, and spending the day sorting things out at home, as eline was off cooking odd Thanksgiving food, and paul_sticks had rung to inform me that he wanted me to DJ at Vagabonds later that evening. So, after spending most of the afternoon burning CDs and getting stuff done at home, I headed off to London Bridge to meet up with the organisers for the evening. The evening went well, and saw plenty of people in attendance, including having a chat with ravenstoker, deinelakaien, catching up with fuzzygoth, being insluted by kilinrax (next time, I'm bringing a bag..) and introducing my housemate, Ray, to the place, which he was completely swept away by, and various people, including fracture242, who kept him amused for what was left of the evening.

My sets went quite well, and I was quite pleased to leave on a high note - getting the dancefloor hammering to the Pendulum mix of Voodoo People. It's always fun to play Vagabonds, as it's such a lovely place, and a great crowd. I even came away with a handful of samplers to listen to this week! Here's hoping I get to do it again some point.

( For those of you who are interested, here's my playlist... )

Sunday started somewhat blearily, as I dragged myself out of bed and headed along to the Alternative Bring and Buy. However, once I was there, and had taken over DJ duties from jonny_eol, began to wake up a little, so, when my first hour's set was up, I was awake enough to chat to people, and scope out a few bargains. The sale was pretty well attended, although possibly not as much as before, but the number of extra stalls, and the range of stuff on offer was quite impressive (I was quite tempted by a pair of metal gauntlets, but gave up on them, as I couldn't justify them for any practical use). With the DJing, it was rather like playing at the Dead Letter Office, with no-one dancing, and so could get into some of the more slow and off-the-wall stuff for people's listening pleasure, and even went into a few post-punk and steampunk moments.

( My Alternative Bring and Buy setlist )

I was presented at the end of the Bring and Buy with a rather lovely wine set, with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, my favourite wine, inside, as a thank you for the work I'd done on the flyers and DJing. I was really touched, and quite dumbstruck, at such a lovely present. Thank you all for that.

The remainder of the evening was spent catching up with friends and eating rather large burgers at Big Red, and then falling asleep when I got home, after running around all weekend. So yes, more like this please :). The week ahead even looks good, with a Christmas party, some drinks schmoozing, and some dancing madness at the end of it, so here's hoping all the goodness continues! :)

Firstly, a big thank you to everyone who managed to provide their contact details and other information for my last post, detailing how I had lost practically all my carefully collected personal information. You all are fantastic, and I'm sure I'll have endless fun plugging that all in to my poor, deprived mobile.

On the subject of mobiles, I thought I had it all sorted out. My current model is a HTC Touch Dual, which I'm rather proud of. It does pretty much everything I want (save the one small hitch of having no way to connect to a WiFi setup, which is annoying, living but a hop, skip and jump from the so called Technology Mile), so I thought I might be able, next time it comes to an upgrade, to use the lack of decent, new, interesting phones out there (I'm sure I'll get plenty of disagreement on that one) to barter my rather prohibitive mobile bills down to something far more reasonable (say, let me have everything I want for free, and I won't send latexiron round with a box of fireworks to your head office). Then, this morning, passing the Centrepoint crossroads on the bus, I look up and see a giant advert for one of these.



Bastards. Want one. Bang goes my leverage, and, I'm sure, my monthly bill will remain at the gross national product of a small country, such, as... Switzerland or Monaco. Bugger.

Also, on the slight sedgeway of technology and other things, I found that not only has a company come out with a combination of geekery and vitner...ing... with the rather aesthetically pleasing USB port which probably tastes rubbis, but might be worht a taste test at some point) but also, dj_alexander has found that someone came up with the name first, and there's a wine called Dead Letter Office, which allows me to remind you lovely folk that our verson of the Dead Letter Office is on this Thursday at the Orwell, Essex Road, from 7pm.



I've drawn first shift this month, so, you'll have to make it there between seven and eight if you'd like to hear me play. As DLO is a chance for me to have a little journey through my collection, I thought this time I'd play a few songs from our European cousins, so expect to hear industrial songs in some rather strange languages (or, possibly, mostly in German, because that's the only way to sing industrial songs) if you make it there on time. Of course, Psyche, Kitty and CJ will be playing much better stuff later on, and there will be more pizza (possibly with more delivery men this time) from Firezza, so why not come along and try it out?

Gah. I loathe many things in this world, but, currently, Microsoft seems to be taking the top spot. The reason? Last weekend, I decided, after seeing my computer slow down to a crawl, that I would give my machine a complete overhaul. Therefore, I diligently backed everything up, formatted my hard disk, and then reinstalled windows. All good, until I realised that I had lost all my contacts in Outlook. "No matter", thought I, and plugged in my mobile to transfer them all across from that. Activesync looked at my machine - nothing there, then looked at my mobile - hundreds of carefully collected contact details and appointments, and decided, in its infinite wisdom, to overwrite everything on my mobile with a big, blank space. "Ah well, at least I can use GooSync to regain all of my appointments". Wrong - GooSync did exactly the same, thing with my GCal. Therefore, I now sit here with a computer, a mobile, and an internet calendar, completely sodding empty.

Therefore, please, if you would, help me out, and fill in as much information as you feel I should have in the poll below, so I don't have to stare at a blank screen and gnash my teeth in sheer frustration. I'm sure my dentist will thank you later.

Poll #1298575 Friends, romans, countrymen, lend me your... details...?
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: None, participants: 64

Mobile number?

Other number?

Is there anything we're doing that I should have in my calendar?

Anything else you'd care to add? (or leave a reply below - comments screened)

Thanks very much - comments are screened, if you'd like to add anything below. If you need me, I'll be bludgeoning Bill gates with a heavy, dull implement, that is, one that's as least as dull as he is.

Right, in lieu of the usual bitchings about work, and the police car meme (seriously, I think the list of things I wouldn't be arrested for would be shorter than the list I would be), something came to mind last weekend, while I was stood outside my parents house, listening to my mp3 player, and enjoying the cold air and a cigarette. The playlist was having a bit of a thrash metal moment, with the likes of Metallica, Megadeth, Pantera et all assaulting my ear drums, and I thought of something I'd like to ask you all:

What's the best guitar solo in the world ever?

What truly makes a good guitar solo? Is it the juxtaposition of melody? The speed and dexterity of the music? Or the fact that it makes you want to air guitar along with it, twisting your face and body into a bewildering series or gurning and contortion?

Extra points awarded for those who provide links to audio samples, or Youtube links, so we can all appreciate what you feel is the very best the axemen have to offer.

I'd just like to add my voice to the multitude of those over here in the UK, and around the world in saying a very well done to America for voting in Mr Obama. Selecting a black, liberal man for president who is so far removed from George Bush gives a clear message that change, indeed, has come. It's not going to be an easy journey out, but we're right behind you, all the way.

Now, how long until we can shift Gordon Brown? :)

During your campaign to be elected to the post of Mayor of London, you specifically said that you would phase out bendy buses. Now, living on the routes for both the 38 and the 73, and having to use them frequently to get to and from work, as the tube's such a shambles, and there's not even been the slightest hint of action on your part for this. Bendy buses are annoying, can be crammed full of people, and frequently get insalubrious characters occupying the back seats, riding around to their hearts content and upsetting fellow passengers, due to a distinct lack of any form of conductor person being present to help organise things. Jeremy Clarkson once described them as being the road equivalent of "doing a three-point turn in a supertanker down the Grand Union Canal", especially when you get them crossing all the multiple lanes of the bottom of Tottenham Court Road, blocking all the traffic merely to make a ninety degree turn to the left.

However, I'm a patient fellow, and I'm willing to forgive you, polar bear-headed Tory blaggard that you may be, on all of the above accounts. One thing I won't forgive you for, however, is the relatively new announcement system. Call me selfish, but it's just downright annoying. Yes - I'm sure that it has its vague uses when some poor tourist is trying to find his way across from gawping at the Palace of Westminster to go and gorge himself on sweets and make himself vomit while playing on the video games machines in the Trocadero, but, for those of us who have spent longer than a few hours in our capital, it's just plain annoying. I know I'm on the right bus, I know where I'm going, and I know where I want to get off - mainly because I've had the presence of mind to work it out before I set off. Your announcements just prove annoying, and cause people around me to whack up the volume on their iPods, making it even harder to read the book I've brought with me. So please, just leave them off, or, if you must, turn them on when the buses begin to reach the usual tourist stamping grounds.

No love

Me



At least part of the reason why I'm currently ranting about buses, apart from the fact that I have to tolerate them each day, is that, due to a small shopping related accident, I managed to acquire a copy of Neal Stephenson's new book; Anathem. For those of you unfamiliar with Mr Stephenson and his work, his books tend to explore concepts of science fiction and reality in such scrutiny and depth, that descriptions and conjecture can cover quite a few pages. His last work; the massive Baroque Cycle, consisting of Quicksilver, The Confusion and The System of the World, each books that could, quite amply, choke a small hippopotamus, or, provide ample shelter from the elements for a tribe of pygmies, should the need arise. Anathem aptly follows suit, being a description on a world that's pretty much the device of his own mind, and consists of language, culture and history all alien to that which we're used to. Granted, this has been done before, by people more prestigious than Mr Stephenson, but it's got me rather excited because I find his work quite so immersive - I can get utterly lost in the worlds he creates, and often find myself having to use an alarm, on a mobile phone or my bedside clock, as a form of mental guide-rope to drag me back to the surface, should I end up too far down the rabbit hole, and only emerge much later than planned, having missed something important, such as eating, work, or sleep. Some people might view this as madness, but I love it.

The only problem I have, aside from the inane announcements on the bus, is when I tackled the Baroque Cycle, I was living with my parents in Little Chalfont, and commuting to Bond Street every day - thereby being assured of a good few hours commuting time in which to get through more of the weighty tome I was lugging around. Now my commute is little over half an hour, I think I'm going to have to wear earplugs, just so I can make sure I get a little bit of time to myself.

Well that certainly was a different way to spend Hallowe'en.

For those of you who weren't there, the night included bear ears and a blue outfit (oh god), vodka, singing along to Voltaire's set with sinbadsilk, more vodka, dancing to Thriller (oh dear god), even more vodka, blithering at people drunkenly, bringing along a bottle of Baileys for Voltaire, and then being given it back to drink afterwards, and getting up on stage and singing with Voltaire and a bunch of young ladies (kill me, now).

I think it was fun. I probably made an utter idiot of myself, and the usual terms and conditions apply 1. If you need me, I shall be holding my head at home and going "ouch".

Oh god, there are going to be photos, aren't there? Help.

Oh, and well done to djpsyche and caveynik for putting on such a great night. Thank you both.

1 - I apologise profusely for everything, apart from the bits which were fun

Oh dear god, why can't they just leave anything decent alone?. There are plenty of other things that could do with a remake. This is certainly not one of them.

So, this weekend that's just passed has to be one of the best I've had in a very long time. Whenever I bump into people I haven't seen for some time, the conversation always seems to go the same way - namely making excuses on how I haven't been out all that much, due to being incredibly busy, working on bits and bobs and these past few days showed me just what I've been missing out on.

Friday evening was quiet, and saw me doing a bit of work, as well as sorting out my DJ case for the boat party the following evening. My housemate Ray was also home, and so he and I engaged in some bizarre, unintended form of audio war from our respective rooms as he listened to music for the fun of it while playing computer games, and I let off bursts of tracks in order to preview them before burning, Pantera melding with Psyclon Nine, Strapping Young Lad with Straftanz, and Revolting Cocks with Reaper, all producing a cacophony which shook our flat to the foundations. Due to the lack of complaints, I can only surmise that everyone in the surrounding area was out, or slept incredibly deeply to withstand all that.

Saturday saw myself and the lovely eline heading off to Crouch Hill, and, after a quite delicious brunch at a bijou little cafe, taking a wander around The Queens Wood in Highgate, exploring the old railway lines, now only evident by the overgrown concrete platforms either side of the path that runs along the route of where the rails used to run. It's been some time since I've been on a decent walk, and I've missed the calmness of walking, the exercise, the excellent company, and, best of all, coming across stuff you didn't know was there, learning a little more about the place where you live.

Then it was back to mine to mine to ready ourselves for Totally Wrecked!, before heading down to the Blackfriar to meet up with everyone else before boarding the boat. Managed to chat with lots of people, dole out a few tickets for those I had bought them for, and collect a little beer money in return, and shortly afterwards, the call went up for us to head to Blackfriars pier and queue up on the gangplank for the MV Pridela, our vessel for the evening. Realising I was first on DJing, I hotfooted it down the gangway, carting my case, and onto the boat to set up.

My first set upstairs wasn't too bad, although the first half of it had people getting on the boat and mingling, so I ended up pulling out the stops a little to try and get a dancefloor started. Had a lovely moment when I realised that I'd stuck on Mindless Self Indulgence's Shut Me Up and Alien Sex Fiend's Hurricane Fighter Plane while going past the Palace of Westminster. I'm sure that probably disrupted a late debate or two.

Most of the evening, when I wasn't playing, involved heading out to the back of the top floor for a smoke, squeezing past people, flinging apologies around as I tried desperately not to get caught on other people, having said cigarette, chatting a little, and then realising I was out of booze, needed the loo, or was back on in ten minutes, and having to make my way past everyone else in the meantime, hence, despite seeing lots of friendly faces, socialising really wasn't all that much of an option, and I do apologies if anyone thinks I blanked them - it certainly wasn't my intention.

My second set was the one I really was looking forward to, and following up from that master of the decks, Mr propoganda_tv, I certainly had the scene well set for me. I don't remember every single song played (and will beg the setlists off ravenstoker when he has a moment to pass them to me), but highlights included playing such excellent tracks as Straftanz, Sam's remix of Reaper's Urnensand, successfully bringing down the tempo with Skinny Puppy's Assimilate, and bringing it back up again without losing my dancefloor, and possibly the best of all, looking out across the room, and not just seeing people enjoying what I was playing and dancing wildly, but the fact that a very large proportion of them were my very good friends, whose taste and musical preferences I greatly respect. Thank you all. You really made my evening with that moment.

After we docked, with a tangible air of disappointment that it was over, carriages were called, and home was went to. Managed to sleep the clock round, and then got up on Sunday, doing a few bits of work before heading off to the pub for the afternoon, where the afternoon was spent playing card games, drinking, eating lots of Sunday roast, and catching up with friends. Needless to say, I went home with a rather chuffed grin on my face, after such an excellent weekend.

( Oh, and some photos (not mine, I hasten to add) from the weekend, which I rather like )

I've been fairly quiet this weekend, but did pop into Camden yesterday to visit gypseymission and see how he was doing, and visit a small music shop hidden away behind Camden Road overground station. The shop itself was definitely a big hit - a quiet, hidden away emporium, which has the shutters permanenetly down, and you have to rng the bell to get them to open the door for you. Inside is an Aladdin's cave of guitars, amps, and other musical instruments which one could wander round and drool over for quite some time. The staff are friendly, helpful, and more than happy to have a good geeking session natter about music and the vagaries of playing technique, as well as recommend things that they're genuinely interested in, rather than just trying to sell you the most expensive thing in the shop. It makes quite a change from the shops down Denmark street, most of whom are staffed by surly troglodytes who look at you with vague disgust and offence if you try and get their attention. Sadly, being a slave to the dayjob, I shall only be able to visit at the weekend, but I'm sure I shall be going back there.

As I had some time to kill once I had emerged from the shop, I decided to take a walk down Camden's main road, and see how things were there. A bit of back story - years ago, when I was a young, wet-behind-the-ears whelp, developing an interest in wearing black and clumsily fumbling with the top of the black nail polish, my stepmum, a quiet, demure woman who usually listens to the likes of Billy Joel and Scott Joplin, noticed my changing interests, and, in the period of a day, took me on a whirlwind tour of all the alternative establishments of London, from Carnaby Street (as it was), Kensington Market (also, as it was), and Camden - something that has gained immense respect and admiration for her, from myself, ever since.

Since then, Camden has always been a place to go for all kinds of clothing needs. However, as I've joked before, there are three stages of alternative clothing: firstly, you go and buy "the outfit" from Camden, secondly, you learn to mix and match a bit from different shops, and thirdly, you just realise you're dreadfully middle class and end up buying your clothes from Mars and Spencer anyway. It's with a heavy heart that I made this realisation yesterday. All right - the main street itself, with it's souk-like bazaar of Asian men trying to sell you New Rocks and leather jackets is fairly all right, and the sad sight of the boarded up After Dark and Canal side market is just depressing, but, upon turning into the Stables market, you're now met with a press of tourists, all practising the annoying habit of stopping right in the middle of a busy intersection of pedestrian traffic, while you're trying to get past them. The ever-growing of fast food stalls, that once reminded me of a scene from Bladerunner, are now just mewling women with McDonalds-esque rictus grins plastered on their faces while they try to peddle their greasy wares on passers by. The shops past that are tired and grimy holes, stuffed with useless tat, with anything of worth having gone long ago - all that's left is tourist tat, and nothing with the slightest bit of originality or style. The only vaguely alternative shops left, Cyberdog and the Black Rose, look distanced and detached, and no longer hold any interest for me anyway, on account of not being a size zero cyberkiddie, or a fifties style deathrocker with far too much money to spend. I emerged from the market with a firm resolution that, given half a chance, I'd be much happier not having to set foot in there again. I think I'll stick to online ordering, and comfortably browsing the stalls at festivals instead.