Jesca Hoop at the Latest Music Bar (and Other Adventures)

After the cultural and social wilderness that was January, it was a pleasant shock to the system to kick-start February with not one but four nights out in a row. This tetralogy of delights began on Wednesday evening with a few pints at the Barley Mow in Kemp Town, followed by a ride in Jen's girl-racer vintage sports car and coffee back at ours accompanied by the excellent new Charlotte Gainsbourg album, Irm, which I'd just bought that day.

On Thursday Ant and I made a last minute decision to go and see Jesca Hoop at the Latest Music Bar, our first gig of the year - and what a show. I'd heard and liked Jesca Hoop on 6Music and via Last.fm, which is why she'd popped up on my recommended gigs feed. In the flesh she was spirited, accomplished and utterly transporting, affecting me in the way that only a select few (mostly female) artists have ever done before. I'm thinking particularly of such memorable gigs as My Brightest Diamond, Camille and Carina Round, who all possessed, and indeed still posses, a certain sensual je ne se quoi that oozes out through their performance.

With its gorgeous three-part harmonies, foot-tapping rhythms and perfectly enunciated lyrics, Jesca Hoop's music is infused with all manner of influences - from folk to blues, gypsy to bluegrass - but her style is very much her own. It felt like a real privilege to see her in an intimate venue at what feels like a tipping point in her career. I was far too swept away to remember to get my camera out during the gig, so the above video is from Jesca Hoop's acoustic set at Resident Records earlier that day. Gigs in Bristol, Leeds, Middlesbrough, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Manchester, Dublin, Galway and Belfast are coming up in the next couple of weeks - I strongly recommend you get yourself along. For more details of the tour, visit Jesca Hoop's MySpace page.

I've learned to expect the unexpected on a night out with Angell, but If you'd told me in advance that I'd be peeing behind a curtain in the basement of a disused fabric shop in Dalston during his birthday celebrations on Friday, I may have raised an eyebrow. It all felt a bit Hernando's Hideaway tapping on the door, uttering a password and having 'c**t' stamped on our hands before being allowed into what was clearly not the most legitimate of club nights. Despite the basic facilities and smoky conditions (people smoking inside, how retro), it was a good night. We drank copious amounts of rum and danced to all manner of cheese, including the classic You Got the Love (the Candi Staton/Source version) to which I have a vague embarrassing memory of throwing shapes. Oh dear.

Saturday's jollifications were a little more sedate but no less entertaining. Damien's birthday drinks in the Park Crescent rolled on into the early hours back at his and Olly's place, where we were treated to Olly's magnificent Squidgy Chocolate Log. I can't think of many better ways to round off a Saturday night, can you?

Zombies, Magpies and Thomas Truax

What better way to relieve the end of holiday blues than by being a zombie in a music video? That's exactly what we felt last weekend when the call went out on Twitter for extras to appear in Thomas Truax's latest video shoot on Sunday. Best of all the shoot was happening just down the road from us in Eastbourne, at a venue close to my heart - the Under Ground theatre. Once just the plain old Library Theatre, the Under Ground was the setting for many amdram adventures of my youth, most notably Godspell and the Pajama Game which both hold extremely happy memories. The place hasn't changed a bit and walking in there was like walking straight back into my mis-spent youth.

Since discovering him at the Freebutt last year along with all his wacky homemade instruments, Thomas Truax has fast become one of my favourite artists (so much so that he made it into my new blog header) and I was delighted to have the chance to star alongside him. Despite all the dressing up over the years, I've never been a zombie before, and thought it would be a fun experience. As it turned out, I still haven't been a zombie because I unwittingly volunteered myself to be a magpie instead. This involved wearing a big magpie head, out of which I could see very little, and dancing in step (not very easy with a big magpie head on) with a fellow magpie called Robin (was I the only one to see the humour there?) who had been 'volunteered' by his girlfriend for the part. Ant and James enjoyed being the tallest zombies on stage and milking their roles - as you can see from this snap of them barbecuing a (fake) human heart. Everyone involved was jolly nice and we even went for a pint with some other zombies in the Dewdrop afterwards.

The video won't be ready for another couple of months, but in the meantime I strongly recommend that you have a look at one of Thomas Truax's previous (and also very brilliantly odd) videos here on YouTube, or even better, buy one of his excellent albums. You can see more photos of the zombie video shoot on my Flickr page.

Losing My Mind?

This morning as I was driving to work, I thought I saw a polar pear in a field just outside Woodingdean. It turned out to be a white horse, but for a brief moment I was convinced. The worrying thing is that I wasn't in the least bit peturbed by this prospect, I just thought to myself "Oh look, there's a polar bear" and carried on driving. I really need a holiday.

Meeting Sulu's Fag-hag

Living in Brighton, I've become accustomed to being surrounded by a host of eccentrics, freaks and weirdos - the colourful characters are a big part of what I love about the town. But Lewes - where I travel to each day for work - boasts a much deeper strain of eccentricity that has none of the Brighton affectation about it. Proper dyed-in-the-wool 'local' fruitcakes line the quiet streets of this quaint historical town, and sometimes you over-hear the strangest things.

Today, in Lewes Post Office, I was waiting in line with an increasingly frustrated queue of customers - all visibly staring daggers at the elderly lady being served at the counter, who was clearly in no rush to be on her way. "Do you know who this letter is going to?" she asked the long suffering clerk, who raised his eyebrows in a polite but bemused "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me" sort of way. "George Takei" she proudly announced. "He was Sulu in Star Trek. It's his birthday next week". And then, as if to clarify that she was a genuine acquaintance, and not just a random geeky stalker: "Oh yes, I know him. He always sends me a Christmas card. Lovely man. Him and his boyfriend...Yes, boyfriend... Oooh, didn't you know, he came out three years ago?" Clearly she was hoping to provoke some sort of response, but sadly I couldn't hear the clerk's half of the conversation to discover if her revelation had the desired effect (although based on the above picture, I wonder that anyone was ever particularly surprised). I had been served at a different window, and was on my way out the door, and she was still in full swing. I hope I am as mad and annoyingly verbose in my dotage - this little episode really brightened up my lunch hour.

And now I can say that I shop at the same Post Office as Sulu's Fag-hag. Awesome.