Post-Eyerack. That what they're putting the UK's dismal zero in the way of points display in the Eurovision Song Carry On. Nowt to do with plumbing new depths in sub karaoke galumphing then? While all that was happening though, Avy and I were doing some Avant gardening at Le Weekend in Stirling. This is a yearly event curated by David Keenan of The Wire which brings outsider gear to Scotland. I'm not up to any speed whatsoever with this stuff but it's fun to gawp for at least a day. LW isn't yer average festival and The Tolbooth isn't yer average joint. It's a civilised place and being an auld guy I likes that.
After a wee spell in Europa Records ( a store withan amazing vinyl grooveyard oot the back) it was time to go hang aboot and take in sets by Damon and Naomi with Ghost. Not the ghost that inhabits The Tolbooth, the Japanese ensemble. Very atmospheric and if you were scoring a film this would be the way to go... quality haunted psychedelic folk.
Next up was Arthur Doyle. A strange cat says Thurston Moore and that turns out to be quite the understatement. As droolingly incoherent as much of his pieces were, Arthur was strangely entertaining. No question, he looks like an old homeless guy but his sax and piano attacks were equal parts captivating and un-nerving. Folks with weak stomachs were runnin' for the exits. Arthur Doyle is here, Arthur Doyle is Here he scatted, yes he is but he is also (way) out there. Caught up with my auld mucker, Edwin Pouncey who was utterly to blame for the period I spent writing for Sounds. A top guy who's lose none of his edge over the annums. Le Weekend is a weird scene but lang may it convene. It reaches parts other festivals could never reach let alone tweak.
