Preaching to the converted and the best dump ever
My attention is distracted by Heroes which is on the television. But then again, seeing as I haven't written in over a month, I think it's pretty clear that I've got enough distractions already. That, and the fact that I've not had much to write about, is my latest excuse for being a lazy fucker.
Let's just jump balls deep into it. I've been back in Falmouth for over a week now. I've done my fair share of settling in (i.e. sitting around on my arse, drinking and catching up with mates) and in all honesty I'm looking forward to getting back to school tomorrow. I've spent too long not doing anything productive, and getting back in the swing of things is looking good. As is having a few nights in.
I can't say that the organised fun doesn't have its benefits. This is my first freshers week where I haven't got a girlfriend to hang out with. And despite maybe coming across as a bit of a sad, old, third year fart, I have managed to get out there and meet some new folks.
The most entertaining night so far, ironically, hasn't been a freshers event. It was a free party/gig/party up by the castle. There was a crowd of locals as well as new faces, and new faced locals that I haven't met yet. The whole vibe was refreshing because there wasn't the Big Brotherly 'let us show you around' attitude. It was a straight forward 'here's our party, enjoy it', kind of thing. Very nice.
Anyway, it was a sweet night, with a great range of music on offer. Tom and Luke opened up the show (I still can't remember their band's name) and despite a slightly ropey, soundcheckless opening, it got good after a few songs. Some chap with an acoustic followed. Then Ayla (whom I later met), played some very smooth, girl, hippy tunes. After that, some guy got up and did an acoustic set. His thing was some sort of political rap. Like a Mark Thomas meets Jamie T. But without the depth or wit of Thomas and T. Good effort, I have to admit. But for the type of crowd and event, it seemed like preaching to the converted.
Another band to which I have no recollection of their name came on after the anti-Bush guy. They had a tight set, but reggae/ska isn't really my cup of caffeinated beverage. Julian Gaskell and His Band of Raggy Trousered Philanthropists closed the show, successfully preaching great tunes to the converted (those who know their tunes) and to the uninitiated. I haven't seen those guys play in a while, (what with being out of town for the summer). A while is too long between Julian Gaskell gigs. The whole place erupted into crazy dancing. An absolute treat.
Skipping to the end, because it's getting late and I need to be up in the morning, I had better cover the 'best dump ever' part of the title of this post. We were down at Gylly Beach Café for the Open Mic/Free Curry Night. Anyway, I won't bang on about how I played my first set of originals at an open mic (it was rather fun). But (because it got a good reaction), I'll mention my thoughts on one of the acts. They were a group of kids, about sixteen years old. Full on 80s style, cock rockers. They could play. The drummer could drum, the bassist could knock out a sweet bass line. And the guitarist... Well, the guitarist could shred. And he did, throughout their entire set. That was about half an hour of ear bleeding solos. I won't pretend that I'm a lover of the Steve Vai/Slash approach to guitar, but I'll give credit to anyone willing to devote their spare time to practicing an art to such an extent. Somewhere towards the end, amongst the rolling of eyes between my friends, I managed to come up with an analogy that pretty much summed it up perfectly (I was told to mention it in my blog). Basically, you know when you've had a bit of gut ache, usually following a few beers, and you go for a massive shit? Still with me? That feeling of relief and of being purged of all worries once that bomb has been dropped? That's how it felt when these boys had finished their set.
That seems like a nice steamy note to leave it on.