A curious weekend event, which I had to see, was a house concert at Hannah O’Reilly’s – a cross between a party and a gig. A limited no of people invited (via Facebook) and a set programme of performers all in Hannah’s flat. Enjoyable, despite the distraction of Hannah’s young and enthusiastic dog, who seemed to find my wrist akin so some sort of bone to be chewed on, and my lower leg a source of irresistable sexual allure; he’s only trying to dominate you, said Hannah. It’s working, said I, happily submitting any claim to be pack leader.
The performances were good and well-timed (i.e. short and snappy) – powerful belters from Susannah MacDonald and Hannah, some yearning songs from Darren Thornberry, who has the most beautiful singing voice, a guitarist whose name escapes me (and I can’t find it on Facebook) but who played a completely improvised piece which I loved just because it was completely improvised, and a set from American Tica Douglas, who impressed me a lot. For some reason I associated her with Lou Reed – long streams of conversational but exquisitely crafted lyrics half-sung half-spoken over three-chord sequences. For my money, one of the very finest performers I’ve seen from the local scene. Her MySpace site will give you a taste but the recordings don’t really do her justice.
Today, an escape at last from decorating and house-repair, as I went shopping in Livingston. But this approaches dangerously close to ‘what I had for breakfast’ blogging and I promised myself never to do that. So I’ll just say, ‘I went shopping for a watch in Livingston and bought an Armani shirt’ and feel your contempt from here 😉