And so to Arlington’s – former museum, dancehall, and now
thriving brasserie (the breakfasts are a thing of wonder) and on this occasion venue for an open mic night hosted by one Charlie Law, a thoroughly good egg* who also runs a night in
Woodbridge, and curated by the good people of Unity in Music who are recording
and filming the event for posterity. TJS has secured us a mid-evening spot
wherein we, The Chancers – on this occasion TJS, myself and Tiny Diva - will
perform lovely new song Nashville State
of Mind, and Run until We Drop
off’ve the album.
The room is packed – admittedly it’s quite a small room –
and there are a multiplicity of cameras, lights and expensive-looking microphones
dotted around the place. There are also attractive young people of every
stripe, many of whom bear horn-rimmed glasses, artfully-teased beards and inked
arms. I feel like Michael Caine with the hordes bearing down on him. “Hipsters!”
I mutter “Faarrrsands of ‘em…”. As with all of these occasions the quantity and
quality of the performances vary. With our wizened old song writing heads on
Shev and I subtly critique the material. Our consensus is that most people
could probably afford to lose a verse and that Ed Sheeran’s got a lot to
answer for. A few years ago it was all prom dresses, pianos and faux-cockney
confessionals, this week it would appear that parlour guitars are in. They
come, they go, but the art school dance goes on forever.I have taken the bus into town and so am pleased to be offered a lift home by my employer** and so while composing ourselves in the lobby I am able to eavesdrop on a monologue being delivered by a gentleman who appears to have lived a life both well and full. Lemmy is mentioned, and Paul Kossoff. At one point he pauses for breath and I am able to intervene by requesting a picture of the young lady, who bears a striking resemblance in terms of style and bearing to one Judy Dyble in her pomp (see above). “Who’s she?” enquires the rock Zelig. “Is she famous?”
Our exeunt sadly precludes watching Fern Teather, who I have recognised simply by dint of the red dress she was wearing at the last songwriter’s showcase I saw her at - which if nothing else proves the value of good branding. I apologise for having to leave but ask if she could assume that I’d watched her set, enjoyed it enormously and congratulated her afterward, since this is what had happened every other time I’d seen her. She said that she thought this was a good idea and would certainly save a lot of time in social interaction if we simply adopted it as a default position in future. “Did you play earlier?” she asked. I confirmed that I had, indeed already performed. “I’m sorry I missed it” she said. “You were great, by the way”.
**I am later relieved at the timing as a round of a (can
of) Guinness, a Peroni and an orange juice and lemonade sets me back over a
tenner, and I only brought twenty quid out with me.
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