Wednesday, August 18, 2010

RIP - Esteban “Steve” Jordan

RIP - Herman Leonard

RIP - Robert Wilson (The Gap Band)

(info via Patrice Mack's fb)

Having been out on two consecutive school nights, procrastination here in the bunker is just hovering below code red. This needs to be addressed this evening so today’s epistle will be puh-retty short.

Yesterday was a little frantic. I was pretty knackered before the show and fried after. A mix of the music and the activity of the day, the alarm actually woke me this morning or I might have caught up on something that’s apparently referred to as sleep.

Never saw Moon Unit, the openers. Already scratched that itch on the last Record Store Day. Although well attended, this wasn’t sold out by any stretch. Had it been in Glasgow, I think it would have. It was all a bit louder than expected and perhaps a touch of pastoral would have altered the states of the general movements. There was also the issue of the sound in that place too but where we were standing, in the pit, it was pretty good and on occasion quite disorienting in the positive sense.

Local commentator, Eno Sharples considered that Steve Shelley’s drumming was too rock here and there. Mini Cauldwell was unavailable for comment. While I agree in part, he does a pretty good job of approximating Dinger’s obviously singular style. The consideration that we’re gathered in 2010 witnessing this is not to be disregarded. My main criticism was that the electricity built up was just killed between songs. There needs to be continuity even if it’s was just a bleeps or three, maybe a little white noise. Just some kind of audible bond between the massive slabs of energy. Some of it soared, some of it glided but it was seldom less than invigorating.

This music still sounds pretty damn futuristic and despite the fact that jetpacks or any other similar form of transport haven’t been forthcoming, this soundtrack still makes it all entirely seem entirely likely that foreseeable needn’t be the end of the world. I'm of to do the ironing to a soundtrack of La Dussseldorf. Toodle pip.