Monday, November 10, 2008

"...pour yourself into me"

It's been a busy week.

First up: Sigur Ros at the Empress Ballroom. My third time and easily the least satisfying. The band weren't to blame (although I do prefer them with the strings) they didn't hold back or under perform. It's that darn venue. Chandeliers and a sprung floor - it should be so right, yet it can feel so wrong. It comes down to the crowd doesn't it? There was an incredible amount of hostility in the area - a band less likely to spawn an aggressive following you would be hard pressed to imagine - they come from Iceland for God's sake, they are statistically proven to believe in fairies! They sound like angels dancing on glaciers! They have cute knitted hats! But did that deter the 'I've paid my money and until they play Hoppipolla I'll do what I want so fuck-you' element? No it did not. There was nearly a fight a couple of rows back.

Luckily, the company the next night was the polar opposite; knowledgeable and appreciative, adoring but considerate. It was all love and rock and mutual respect with Okkervil River. Faith in human nature restored. And they did 'A Girl In Port' which I do love so. I won't forget my first time.

Then last night back, through the torrential rain, to Manchester again for the self-effacing and harmonious Fleet Foxes. Second time in six months: we're comfortable with each other but not complacent.
Some - lets be charitable and call him a - wag ( the word, not the acronym), decided to spend the evening shouting 'play Mykonos' even after the band had politely explained that as they 'only have about two songs' they would, at some point and in their own time, most certainly be playing Mykonos. I think he was just over excited. Anyway, you could've heard a pin drop during 'Oliver James' and that other shouty one that Robin Pecknold does on his own. And that isn't a criticism.

Manchester 2 : 0 Blackpool


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