Burns neet in Brixton. OK so a couple of days early but most of the sassenachs at the Hootenanny (nee Hobgoblin) probably didn’t know or care. Most probably didn’t even know it was Burns night, or what that is so must’ve been pretty surprised by the hairy dress wearers of the last band. Certainly the Jamaican chicken bbq and mexican burritos outside lacked a any sheeps gut with dodgy fillings.
Meet Chris there just after 9 for a relaxing pint outside before bitter weather force us in. Stax Dempsey are very competent New York Lou Reed style rockers but nowt amazingly innovative. Si & Jules plus newly 18 son arrive fashionably late and dressed. Wandering around I miss the burlesque from regular Miss Trixie Sparkles apart from a glimpse of some of her streamers – and I mean ribbon type streamers it’s not some Carry On Burns Night type innuendo.
And on to the main draw… kilt wearing bodhran beating bagpipe puffing reel inducing mayhem! Schiehallion from Inverness - the band with a great scottish brogue started energetically and just got better. Great mix of reels - cue much arm in arm dancing around gradually bringing in more and more folk from the stationary audience – quite difficult when you’ve not much space but hey, that didn’t stop us getting into the highland groove thang ye ken. Couple of ballads – I’ll take the high rood etc. And something inbetween for a bit of slower dancing so not sure whether to reel, wave arms in the air or just take a breather. The latter was not a real option in the throng of the celtic mosh. So, a great night and my calves are still feeling it despite the fact I cycle and play football regularly – and dance to other bands. Maybe highland reeling uses the parts that other dances never reach? News Year Resolution – see Pogues at this years Xmas gig at Brixton Academy (as Chris did 2010).
So, all in all a great time was had by all. Only marred by me finding Jules outside nursing an unintentionally delivered Inverness Kiss during the madness and holding ice-in-paper-napkin to her eye. At least it will save dosh on mascara for the next week or so. After a couple more drinks to rehydrate and calm down, chats with a couple of old friends and new strangers we drift off homewards – me on the old dutch bike battling through the icy wind through the empty streets as it was past 2.30 by now.
If only St Georges nights were this good…
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