at the end of the universe

I spent Saturday evening watching television, right from the excellent tea-time frolics of Doctor Who all the way through to the alien adventures of Eurovision.

One of the shows was set in a kind of space station at the end of the universe. It resembled a late 20th Century dance club. The other show moved it on into something a little more 21st Century.

In the case of Doctor Who, there were plenty of references to other space and sci-fi series in the script as well as self references to old-school Doctor Who. Even a retro control room.

Pleasingly, the characters had a kind of Amanda Palmer meets Danger Ensemble look about them. Not surprising with Neil Gaiman as the writer of the episode.

Gaiman took the Doctor to a Neverwhere outside of the Universe. The Doctor even commented that it was somewhere he'd never been, which is fairly unusual nowadays.

It gave a chance for the plot to move up a level, presumably breaking through a few sealed doors along the way. Once a new piece of fundamental Who-history gets written there is no turning back because the fan-base will have it recorded for all time.

So the Star Whale type construct of riding on a bubble on the edge of the Universe permitted the humanisation of a slightly delirious TARDIS. She (The TARDIS, excellently played by Suranne Jones) then had to rapidly make up for 'lost time' whilst hurling some great one-liners into the script. She simultaneously channeled Queenie from Blackadder whilst stating "Biting's like kissing only with a winner."

And we got a good backstory about the theft by the TARDIS of the Doctor "Back in the Day". I'm a great believer in Time stopping everything happening at once, so it's probably fortunate that most of this happened outside of the main Universe.

That way we didn't all suffer from a catastrophe that would create tears before bedtime. Although, it has to be said that the end of the episode created a tear-jerking morph of TARDIS back to being the soul of the machine.

The tears in the following programme were somewhat different as we watched the transition of Europop to европоп.

Yes, the Russian bloc have it.

My own more trippy tastes were towards Moldova's Zdob şi Zdub or even the Irish Jedward entry, both of which featured Pop, strange headgear and whirly lights. Instead, after hours of sonics and two many Screwdrivers, we had a largely forgettable win from that epicentre of pop culture Azerbaijan. At least they dressed up.

I decided to clear my mind of all of this today and took out on my bicycle, finding myself in a Forest by a River. There was a Pond as well.

I may need help.

Have you seen my sister Evelyn?

As I was explaining yesterday, the original objective of visiting the Koko was to see the Evelyn Evelyn act which requires both of the Evelyn sisters in the same place at the same time.

The trouble was, because of the aircraft delays as a result of the swirling clouds of ash, it meant that the second Evelyn was stuck on a 747 somewhere over the Atlantic.

Undeterred, this became an excuse for some complicated technology and so with the power of borrowed London equipment, some wet string and an improbably large aerial, a link was established with Evelyn (Jason Webley) sitting on the plane.

He reached up into the overhead and found a guitar and then, before you knew it, with Amanda Palmer in Camden and him elsewhere, there was singing and general merriment.

Evelyn Evelyn may not have been as together as they would normally appear, but there was still a way to make music. the little video below captures the general chaos of the moment. I do also have another when Jason found the accordion so that they could sing The Elephant Song, but that will be reserved for youtube.

Tchaikowsky Piano Concerto and cellphone

Really a belated new year moment, this clip from Amanda Palmer and the Boston Pops, with Amanda playing Tchaikowsky's First Piano Concerto.

Until its interrupted after around 3 minutes by an audience member's cell-phone.

Pure punk cabaret.

There's further insight (and around 200 comments) over at Amanda's blog. Amanda's experimenting with some video blogging too.

And congratulations to Amanda and Neil Gaiman on their recent engagement.

Amanda Palmer at Union Chapel

We took position opposite the chapel, in the library, where there were already others clothed as if not from the local area. The darkly clad man with the triangular hat and the large and slightly disturbing sock puppet were the first we noticed, followed by another puppet with black buttons for eyes. We were entering a zone where Brechtian punk cabaret seemed to be intersecting with a few characters who would be at home in Coraline or Struwwelpeter.

A Guinness and some fancy Belgian beers later and we'd spotted the pedal operated piano navigating the Islington traffic system. Eventually after the piano's return and hearing applause from an impromptu song from Amanda outside the chapel, we decided it was time for us cross the road from the pub to the event.

Two lines, so we joined the shorter one, soon to be advised by one of those very puppets that we needed to change to the longer queue, which now snaked out of the building, along the road, down some steps and finished somewhere in the gyratory system.

We good-naturedly walked the smiling faces, many people clearly dressed for the occasion and as we did so, the pianist started to have trouble with the piano which by now was belching orange flames from its interior, along with clouds of black smoke. Undeterred, he played on, accompanied by a vocalist similarly unperturbed by the change of circumstance.

Inside the chapel, we realised that those ahead of us had now filled most of the seats. We remembered the side staircase and found our way to the gallery. Ideal for a perfect view.

First was Essex-based Polly Scattergood, shimmering in silver, accessorised with pink, playing quirky songs of pills and vulnerability accompanied by a small band with some rather loud drums. We applauded in all the right places as Polly delivered around five songs from her debut album. The audience was warm, but as she mentioned the name of the act to follow there was a noticeable burst of added appreciation.

Before the main act, the chapel's organ was played by a shadowy maestro who had to sit behind the stage. A delightful interlude.

And so onto Amanda. Palmer. Neil Gaiman had already taken a spot near the front and Beth Hommel was doing things with papers and water on the stage.

Amanda appeared, moved to the front and sang 'The wind that shakes the barley', unaccompanied.

Total silence from the audience until the end of the song and then a reverberation to lift the roof from the church. We could sense we were in for a great show.

Sure enough, the KurtWeil keys were then caressed and Amanda' poise became at one with the instrument which she could coax or attack as the song and mood demanded.

A blend of well-known songs from her recent excellent album and an equal mix of other choices, from other works and from friends with whom she collaborates. "Oasis" was introduced with a comment about us all going to Hell and although "Leeds United" was omitted, I'm including a video link to it anyway.


The set ran smoothly, interspersed with chatter, questions, a picture auction and a chance for Polly Scattergood to perform an unusual rendition of Puff the Magic Dragon with Amanda on keys.

There's a magic to the venue and even Amanda admitted that she'd decided she had better think out a 'proper set' for the performance, which came across as polished but with a strong rapport engaging the audience from the very start.

There was an endearing moment whilst she remembered the chords for a song someone requested. At another time, she invited her partner Neil Gaiman onstage and he sang a short 'hymn' which Amanda accompanied on piano. It certainly didn't fall flat on its face either.

Amanda ran the timing right to the 10:30 curfew wire, but then still managed to finish with another unaccompanied and wrenching version of 'the song nobody else can cover': Tori Amos's 'Me and a gun', from which I sense more than a few tears were shed. Then to boost it back up for the final number with stabbing keys and a suitably rousing finale.

After the houselights, we headed back to the bar for a further Red Stripe and a chance to chatter about the concert. Much later we left, and as we walked out, there was still a line of people snaking through the chapel towards the seat where Amanda sat signing and chatting, accompanied by Neil.

Amanda Palmer makes her own unique path through the world and music and it is great when this spirit alights even momentarily to allow us to share in the experience. I predict scaffolding and roof repairs to the chapel following the level of applause.

Come back soon.

girl anachronism

Oh, and for those in the line that thought the pedal piano wasn't functional...Thanks rajkumariji.

whats the use of wondering?

Some might think I've had a few lazy days with my feet up not posting much although the reality is that I've been busy and out until late in the evenings.

From last Monday when I had a six a.m. start, right the way through to last night, its been meetings, trips and some modest social moments included.

I still prefer to post something most days and so when such a gap occurs I even sometimes back post. I know its only really for me and that sometimes its just a picture or a few sentences, but it keeps a stuttery narrative rather than ponderous gaps.

It also helps me to put down brief markers for things which I may return to later. Today I'm soon to head for Camden. We're meeting in a pub for a late lunch and then much later some of us will head across to Amanda Palmer's gig.

animal collective merriweather post pavilion

I've been listening the new Animal Collective CD in the car recently. It came in a neat little digi-pack with an outer box of optical illusion and an inner sleeve with their name on it. The album also seems to have a sort of double layer, and I've noticed that a few of the reviewers have referenced 'Beach Boys' and surf sounds as part of the description, perhaps because of the Press handout?

That's not really how I heard it, with it being a little reminiscent of how I'd imagine a 70s prog-rock group like "Yes" would play dance music, if such a thing were possible. There's plenty of layers of synthesizers and soaring guitars, with a kind of electro pop back-beat. There's some proper lyrics that move it from pure dance to something with stories. Probably an analyst's delight.

I'll define its genre as 'blog-rock' because it's one of those bands where the fan following is generated from on-line leaks of tracks and subsequent discourse. Part of the new music model and something that Amanda Palmer commented on during the gig on Wednesday. The need to find the connection from the artist to the fans in new ways. In the ballroom we all texted our email addresses to a special phone number during the gig to stay connected.

I suppose the difference is between the musicians who are in it for the long haul (AnCo started back somewhere in the nineties, I think) versus the sleb-based X factory productions speedily filling Mr Cowell's deep trousers.

In the UK around 80,000 sales of a single attain a chart number one to promote an album. Almost better for the record company to save the marketing budget, just buy up the quantity and get the chart position for the subsequent album.

Lily Allen just made the top spot with 'The Fear' describing celebrity vacuity, sold as an £2.97 EP with every track laced with ***** words. Not banned; yet the Palmer single about stark teenage denial banned everywhere except, intriguingly, the BBC.

I understand the need for innocent uplifting pap pop of the "It’s my time, my moment, I’m not gonna let go of it, I’ll stand proud, nothing I’m afraid of; I’ll show you what I’m made of, that its my time now" type. This can be used in song contests, stadiums and for political speeches with equivalent ease. "Clear the decks, light the lights". I almost feel a java song generator moment but I'll save it for another day.

Fortunately, whilst the labels such as 'progressive' and 'underground' may be deeply unfashionable, there's still enough alt.you-name-it music around to keep things interesting and even a resurgence in the old Yes-like bands with Rick Wakeman being granted permission to perform '6 Wives of Henry VIII' at Hampton Court after waiting a bizarre XXXVII years.

But enough dismantling, I feel should probably reach for a tie-dye tee shirt to just listen to Animal Collective, perhaps whilst staring at the cover art.

John - will this do?

twitter haiku tea break (with cranberries)

I like the idea of using twitter to send haikus.

@amandapalmer suggested it this morning, so I wrote one on the way to the office, as an experiment...

tail lights red, streaming
wintry yellow tarmac glows;
london’s work beckons.

Then, this evening, inspired by the fridge, whilst I waited for the water to filter before I made some tea.

shrill cranberries wait
redly, fiercely, harshly, fat
mesmerizing sharp

Of course, as well as the 5/7/5 = 17 syllables, they are supposed to have some reference to season...

dancing forlornly

Spring's exaltation near goads
happy somersaults

...Then I found the haiku generator...

archly replying
faintly, serene, first gnat smiles
fumbles, anarchic

Its a sure fire way way to cut down on @rashbre twitter followers.