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.
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.
Back to the Library in Islington for a Belgian beer rendezvous before heading to Union Chapel for the second sighting of The Low Anthem in around a month.
Confusingly, it was the launch of their new CD "Oh my God, Charlie Darwin", which rashbre central reviewed in around March and has been on the car playlist ever since.
Tom the bass managed to get one of the shiny new ones, but I shall cherish my hand painted sleeve original.
Once again, an excellent gig from a talented band who can more or less interchange their instruments as they weave their musical spells. They are playing Glastonbury at the weekend, in "the pub".
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.
A swift drink at the World's End in Camden last evening, appropriately accompanied by growling and sinister death metal from the juke-box until Julie said it was making her feel ill.
So our happy band wandered the one hundred footsteps to the Electric Ballroom which was filling with the followers of Amanda Palmer, who has been in town giving snowman construction lessons and preparing for this new European tour.
First up Göteborg's finest - Detektivbyrån - who played a sort of drum n' accordion set, punctuated with xylophone. The good natured crowd applauded well enough and then after a short refuel break, Amanda appeared. The already loud applause flipped up a few notches as she seated by the Kurt Weill, but the coolsters of Camden didn't all surge to the front and there was actually enough room to stand and enjoy.
A great blend of songs, many from the latest album, some Dresden Dolls tunes (Backstabber, Coin Operated Boy) a cover or two - somehow part of a Muse track got worked in - and also some new material. Amanda was complemented with the Danger Ensemble for some of the numbers, who performed around her and into the crowd flaunting *ahem* all manner of things during the extensive set.
A few serious moments as she talked about UK censorship and the narrowing of differences from America to UK and a tongue in cheek modification to the already ironic version of Oasis.
I know it's a flying visit to the UK, but there were some witty observations about Londoners like they didn't really know how to make snowballs until the instructions were published in the Guardian. Additions to the musical part included a picture auction and a couple from the audience being invited on stage to profess their love for one another.
There was a finale which involved "Katy Perry" and a then a mini photoshoot which has created some great flickr pictures, far better than mine.
A great evening. Amanda, don't be a stranger to the UK.
