The Next Big Thing

It turned out to be a reasonable morning in terms of weather. The biblical, horizontal rain stopped and the sky went all that cool wintery bright blue. As it is I was looking out the office window, watching the last vestiges of a rainbow fizzle out as the rain swept in. There’s no pot of gold at the end of this one but Airthrey Castle, site of the first ever radio thing I did with Mark Hagen is only a few metres away. It’s some kind of teaching college now. Then it got bright and the rain got torrential again and by the time it got to leaving for the day, the bloody storm returned. Demons wrestled in my napper and I had to admit that going into Glasgow to a show where the doors are supposed to open at 10pm wasn’t wise. Taking into account the fact that these things seldom run to time I had to make the difficult decision to stay home and fold zines. I can do this listening to "The World Famous Hat Trick" is a pretty reasonable alternative.

Monday, being St Andrews day, marks the end of this year of “Homecoming” events (I get the boke just typing the word). Attempts to tie in Rabbie Burns with cajoling ex-pats and visitors to visit the daftest wee country in the world have by all-accounts been a damp squib. Could this have something to do with the gut-churning advert that went along with it? Most Scots, in my opinion, have an inherent hatred for this style of lame grandstanding and are embarrassed by it to some degree.

There are a couple of shows, well one, this weekend that is worth supporting. Also, Teenage Fanclub and The Vaselines are playing on a bill spread across three halls that’s supposed to represent the cream of the history of this nation’s music. If that is indeed so then we’re screwed. A laughing stock. If TFC had booked two nights at the Barras it would have been stowed out because they are a credible force on the world stage.

It does give credence to the perception of popularity though. On paper it probably looks like a winner but people have been up-ended enough. There’s no coinage left. Plus it’s in the worst venue on earth, or at least in Glasgow. What’s not to shun?

Ok, so I have paper to fold. DIY or die.