Starting out by bike with a time trial target of Balham to Lambeth Bridge of 30 minutes set by Simon... doesn't seem too hard but that's going by back streets, obeying red lights and stopping off at cash point. Just make it to find he's late (or in the wrong place) we meander along the South Bank and up to see Julia just off Colombia Road of flower market fame for a bite to eat and long overdue natter. After tasty nourishment of beetroot and potatoes our intrepid cycling pair speed northwards to Shackleton Arms for the main event curated by the Sexbeat team. After finding a place to park (cycling really is popular now) we get to the bar which is packed with young east London trendies come for the "DIY punk rawk and screen printed artwork" (according to the flyer - I wouldn't be so crass to spell like that). Debbie's theory that baggy jeans are coming back is either premature or it ain't reached remote Dalston yet so I look either old fashioned or bleedingly cutting edge. Probably the former. At least I have one leg rolled up courier style. Simon blends in well with his tight jeggings tho not sure about his cycling fleece. Get served surprisingly quick and into a back room very reminiscent of the Brixton Windmill.
Old Forest seem to be pottering about a bit detuning guitars and ramping up the distortion dials to 11 before launching into a head nodding shoe gazing set with basic drums (that's not a complaint!) big bass and big strummy guitar complete with fuzz box and boy do they know how to use it. My hope that with a name like Forest they would get near to The Cure (given A Forest is one of the best songs ever made) but not close maybe as the threesome need a decent singer or at least remove the T shirt draped over the mic. Reminiscent of Cure I guess from a shoe gazing view point but after a few tunes we get the gist and go out for a breather into the brightly lit by fairy lights garden which is also rammed. Catch the last crescendo and noodling of the woodlanders ending on a high note. Retire to bar where my knack of catching a bar maids eye with a winning smile still gets me served ahead of miserably serious youth.
Satellites Of Love up on stage next. Well I say stage, about 6 inches high and whilst big enough for non moving trio not if you have more. So the singer and guitarist are down amongst us punters. Odd name for a band that are thrash with shouty singer but they liven the crowd up and definitely no shoe gazing just in case the singer turns on you. Spent most of the time facing his band but don't think we in audience were missing a lot visually - just needed our ears. After that we go upstairs to see the Poster Roast exhibition of trippy 60's induced band posters from the last couple of years including Gallows which last band were like. On from our artistic interlude and back down for the band that Simon gets the T shirt for before even seeing, and one that apparently I met in Leeds according to my Yorkshire memory bank Ramsay...
Eagulls play good old indie with a heavy edge and a lot of bite. Also in with the audience not sure if that was best for the singer but they got the crowd going and some even lifted their feet off the floor. On balance and as the design is great and it was cheap Simon was right to buy the T. So a good set and out of all 3 probably the one I'd like to see again but would depend on my mood - sombre, angry or wanting a dance. As cycling we've been very moderate in drinking all night and to avoid temptation and feeling like parents looking for lost offspring we decline the disco and head off home stopping off near Oxo tower (see previous blog) to gaze over St Pauls and the city deliberating about past life and trying to piece together previous outings then cycle upstream to the bar boat near Vauxhall where we have a last half a bitter each out on the water deliberating about current life then gather driftwood for Simon's burning at the slipway next to the MI5 building. And so up to and over Clapham and then part to return to our respective cozy beds. Ahh, bliss after a 25 mile cycle ride interspersed with punk rawk.
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