Cycling & Comedy Music & Moshing
Having crammed everything I could possibly need for a weekend of cycling and gigs, including a pair of 8 hole DMs, into my bike panniers I take a leisurely damp cycle into Kings Cross in plenty of time for the train. As ever they announce the platform about 7 minutes before departure time and there's a mad rush for Platform Zero (what?!). After negotiating the non opening big baggage gate I ask the conductor where to put my bike. He asks to see my cycle permit and I tell him the booking number I was given over the phone. No, I need a physical ticket for the bike. Warning me that argument and resistance is futile I run back to the ticket office through the barriers, barge my bike to the start of the queue, grab someone who's not serving anyone and explain I'm about to miss my train. Without asking to see my ticket he prints 2 bike permits and I thank him profoundly before dashing back to just make the train. In fact make it late cos I then fanny about putting my bike into the correct regulation bike space - of course the only thing in the cavernous baggage carriage. Stressed I neck my can of lager, eat lunch and settle down for a couple of hours reading. By Leeds I'm well relaxed but then have to gear up for the ride to Otley out along the Old Otley Road. Fairly uneventful except for passing loads of English Democrat flags (it's local election time) and having a full on adrenalin rush coming down from the Chevin into Otley, praying there were no potholes for me to crash into at 35 mph. For the route see... http://connect.garmin.com/player/175821703
Safely in Otley my hosts Ramsay and Jo water and feed me then into town to see Paul Foot who puts on an hour of very funny and in some places side splittingly weird surrealist comedy including the first quarter just about where he doesn't set foot on stage. Go see him. Even though he looks like the bastard son of Eno and Emo (Brian and Philips that is).
Next day up bright and early for a cycle jaunt around the dales. Then I wait til the weather improves. I won't bore you with the pains I suffered getting from Otley to Blubberhouses, suffice to say I had 1 gear left that you should ever go down to as the next step is off and push. Here's the route - in 2 halves due to my Garmin device being unreasonable but you get a bonus of my ride 2 days later along the canal from Horsforth into Leeds.
http://connect.garmin.com/player/175821699
http://connect.garmin.com/player/175821695
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How come Otley isn't further away? I've been cycling for an hour!
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| Worryingly rushed by Yorkshire sheep reminiscent of Wallace and Grommit |
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| Sign warning me I'll reach 40 mph |
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| Lunch at Linton Falls - mainly downhill from here on... |
Today's the main reason I've come north - Live at Leeds. Literally armed with VIP passes we meet Ramsay's other VIPs and first hit the University Mine to see Chew Lips who serve up great 80s electro pop at times like Erasure albeit with a mordern twist and self concious suave woman instead of jumpy bloke. Malcolm and I wander down to The Faversham to meet Jason and Steve and see Eyes on Film a great punky rock band with Dave Greenfield moustache lookalike keyboardist and clash fan guitarist who played a mean fuzzfilled guitar straight outta 70s rock. The laid back singer, geeky drummer who beat a mean beat and rock solid bassist made for a great sound. We hike over to the Academy braving the hail to see I Love Trains en route finding out that The Arsenal drew 3-3 with Norwich seriously jeopardising next year in Europe so really not in the mood for a pint of disgusting beer and to watch 5 whinging beardy guitarists. Stumbling out I consider jumping off the bridge on the way to the University but make it to see Bastille on my own. Not so bad as they create big drumming soundscapes with big vocals in a Big Country style. Went down very well and but not completely convinced there again when I went in on the off chance of something decent I was in a foul mood and left without my scowl.
Meet up with the rest of the gang for some great jazz drumming (I know, what am I saying?) of the Runners which is combined with noodly synth keyboards and vocals which couldn't be less like the last group topped off with dry ice. Very "all back to mine" so although good to hear they should be on much later (as they were last time I saw them). Eschewing Ramsay's promise of full on punk Malcolm and I opt for Scandinavian electro in the form of Niki and the Dove who are a blonde Kate Bush lookalike singer, Abba lookalike synth / keyboardist and bewildered Norwegian sailor lookalike on drums. Given that description it didn't look promising but they were very good both visually and the sound. Definitely well worth a look pop pickers. Having seen a fair bit of music by mid afternoon we go into Leeds centre to find a pub with decent ale and showing the FA Cup (ridiculous 5.15 kick off but very apt seeing as The Who had a classic live album named Live at Leeds and a song called 5.15). A few noodles (not musically) and disappointing result but who really cares the shoe gazing sway about nodding stoner rock of S.C.U.M. beckon from The Cockpit (very good) and then the jump around moshing raw rock n roll of Howler (excellent) both providing highlights of the day.
Reunited with my hosts we drop in on the Holy Trinity Church to see the subtle drifting tunes of Alt-J (OK, a little hazy there) and then taxi up to the Brudenell Social Club. Lovely venue and not disappointed in the trek seeing Dog is Dead who have a name not to resist. Big guitars getting (quite a few) feet shifting they go down very well and are well worth another viewing in the future. Finale is Ghost Poet putting on a great show and was a lot more engaging than last time I saw him. Soulful, dance-ridden dub beats getting us dancing about and culminating in a stage invasion which our poet seemed to enjoy immensely. Flaked out we taxi home for another deep sleep.
Next day is lazy reading papers, dodgy election results (Boris back) and then get a lift to Horsforth for a very pleasant cycle along the Liverpool Leeds Canal to the train station, briefly stopping to hear a band outside a pub thrashing out Whole Lotta Rosie. A fitting end to the weekend. Train empty, no cycle arguments, hour delay (technical issues in the Finsbury Park area), should get refund, Spurs and Newcastle screw up their chance to go above us and have a warm welcome home with kitchen painting finished and looking good. Lovely...
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