Bonjour

Back from Paris and I have to admit to have thoroughly enjoyed myself and am keen to return and explore a good deal more particularly the Latin Quarter which appeared to be a fine and groovy place full of hepcats. I reckoned that my last visit to Paris was in 1978 on a Sir Thomas Rich’s French exchange – a fairly eventful trip – but it suddenly dawned on me that S, H and I had gone there to see The Cure in concert in about 1988. That was a fun trip and The Cure were on decent form. I’m heartily trying to remember who supported them and now that is bothering me greatly….

Five minutes later and an internet search tells me that Shelleyan Orphan (of course!) were the support band, and the concert was at the Palais Omnisports in July 1989 (nearly right). Sorry to be a trainspotter but I need to preserve the set-list for posterity: Plainsong, Pictures of You, Closedown, Kyoto Song, A Night Like This, Just Like Heaven, Last Dance, Fascination Street, Lovesong, Charlotte Sometimes, The Walk, A Forest, Inbetween Days, The Same Deep Water As You, Prayers for Rain, Disintegration,Encore 1:Llullaby, Close to Me, Let's Go to Bed, Why Can't I Be You?,Encore 2: Hot Hot Hot, A Strange Day, It's Not You, Three Imaginary Boys, Fire in Cairo, Boys Don't Cry,Encore 3: Homesick, Untitled, Faith.

I confess to remembering very little of these songs being played. It was a huge venue – possibly the largest I’ve seen a band in, come to think of it – and the French kids were lappin’ it up and dancing like crazy thangs. Sadly I know exactly what I would have been wearing: brown scuffed desert boots, Wrangler Ohio jeans, red plaid shirt untucked, tee-shirt underneath, black jacket. I always wore this combination of clothes back then and with a large, well-tended quiff I no doubt thought I was the cat’s whiskers. How wrong I was. Happy memories though.

Reggae Fool

Poor Burning Spear knowledge. Sorry. The track I love the introduction to is not Jordan River but the sublime Red, Gold and Green. I shall don the sack-cloth.

On the recommendation of D I have purchased my first ever copy of Uncut magazine but shall not read it until I board the coach taking me to Paris – France, not Texas - on Saturday morning. The contents look fabulous: articles on Scritti Politti (I used to really like them and bought their first three albums), fey Scottish pop (another fave) and New Order (ditto).

I am tempted to buy Mali Music by Damon Albarn tomorrow so I’ll have something new to listen to while I’m away.

Oh yes, I’ll be away from Saturday until Wednesday so these pages will be still and serene for a few days. I shall be taking a laptop away with me so I might, if the muse grips me, pen a few words of Gallic wisdom whilst away from Blighty and update the Blog when I return.

Great to speak to those honest yeomen C, S and M last evening in three separate phone calls. I enjoyed hearing about S, all alone on the terraces for the Saints game, losing the plot and ranting loudly at our forlorn excuses for players, spittle forming at the sides of his mouth. ‘Losing it on your own’ is frankly laudable and I salute the fellow for his passion and energy. M will be leaving his North Yorkshire idyll and joining S and I for The Buzzcocks gig. I think we may drink very heavily. I am due a night out and am looking forward immensely to that evening. C is well and refreshed from his week in Whitby.

1. The Fall, 2. Wilko Johnson

The Gloucester Guildhall calendar has been announced for April, May and June and, as ever, a few evenings out spring off the screen along with a few to miss. I shall certainly want to attend the Wilko Johnson gig in May which will prove the fourth occasion I have seen the maestro in action. Apart from The Fall whom I’ve seen 15 (?) times, I don’t believe I’ve seen anyone else as many as four times (for the statisticians, I don’t include festival appearances) so, blimey, well done Wilko. A number of films catch the eye too and I shall want to watch Sideways the week after next and A Very Long Engagement too. I rather fancy The Life Aquatic with Bill Murray. I like his films; Lost in Translation (awe-inspiring soundtrack) was superb and I have watched Groundhog Day a number of times and always think that’s a clever and witty film.

I’m now scrutinising every last brain cell to remember if I’ve seen any other live act four times. I have seen loads of bands two times (The Pixies, The Mighty Lemon Drops, My Bloody Valentine, The House of Love, Throwing Muses, The Smiths etc.) but three or even four? S might be able to help.

A hand-me-down dress from who knows where

I’m not exactly pining and whining but I am examining with great interest the line-up for this Easter’s All Tomorrows Parties festival and sort of wish I was going again. If for no other reason than historical curiosity I’d quite fancy seeing Yoko Ono on stage doing her art-shock stuff. Sean Lennon is playing as well and I believe he trades in a kind of art-rock thang - and fair play, he doesn’t need the work does he? Heaven knows what the Ono-Lennons will make of Camber Sands Pontins but I hope, verily, they’re not stopping over in a chalet like the one we dwelt in last year. Plenty of other acts catch the eye. John Foxx who used to be in Ultravox before they were naff would have been worth a look and Suicide are one of those groups, pivotal by all accounts but I don’t recall hearing a single thing by. I would love to see Prefuse 73 - a very intelligent band, full of great sounds and unusual ideas and soundscapes. Next year perchance. Last year was a fabulous weekend and staying up ‘til 5am on the Saturday night remains one of my key achievements of 2004. I can still do it. And by going down the front for Har Mar Superstar, C proved he can still do it too.

I’ve been playing Burning Spear’s Marcus Garvey in the car. What a blissful recording, so pastoral and evocative. The first 20 seconds of Jordan River is just the most sublime reggae arrangement imaginable and I never tire of hearing it. From a rugby perspective, although I'm aware the lyrics of the title track, ‘Catch them Garvey, catch them’ refer to bringing betrayers of Marcus Garvey to justice but I can’t help thinking of our hapless wing three-quarter flapping at high balls aimed in his direction.

Wales

I spent yesterday in Cardiff, a gatecrasher at rather a remarkable party as the Welsh rugby team defeated Ireland to attain a richly deserved Grand Slam. The result was never in doubt. The atmosphere at the Millennium Stadium was unimaginable and I almost had to pinch myself to check I really was present in such a cacophonous, rousing hotbed. There were so many passionate people in one place, so few neutrals, so much emotion and will for the red shirts to prevail. I envied the Welsh passion; as an Englishman I can never imagine caring that much for a national team. The scenes before kick-off gradually raised the temperature from simply simmering to red hot. Max Boyce was incredible and I never, never thought I’d state that in public. He captured the principality’s dreams so well and had everyone around me singing their ruddy hearts out. Jenkins the prop scored right in front of our seats. The view was perfect. My neutral’s heart cried out for more of an Irish response at the end but the right team won. It was a wonderful day. I was there.

Intelligent Dance Music

A brief phone call to C last evening, holidaying with his crew in beautiful Whitby. A fine weekend may be taking shape: Friday night will be Sale against Gloucester and hopefully our lads will remember to turn up and play for the shirt; Saturday night might be Autechre live in concert at Manchester's The Zoo. An Autechre gig will be an uneasy experience but one I quite fancy. I wouldn't expect many laughs. I notice that Durutti Column are also playing Manchester on the Saturday, another band I'd love to see. I have the first four DC albums including their beautifully named debut, The Return of the Durutti Column; all are fragile objets d'art held together by the singular guitar playing of Vini Reilly.

Tomorrow I shall be heading to Cardiff for the Wales vs. Ireland match and, potentially, history as the Welsh chase an elusive Grand Slam. I'm just happy to be gatecrashing that particular party. I enjoy the fact that real fans attend internationals at Cardiff. Twickenham could never hope to replicate that level of passion. I'm excited.

Rock and Roll Friends

A long overdue phone call to Birmingham Academy has acquired a brace of tickets for the wondrous Go-Betweens on a Friday night in May. This will be at the middle of the three Academy venues where S and I saw a mighty set from Calexico a year or so ago. This more intimate setting will suit the whimsical, homely charms of The Go-Betweens well. I hope they play plenty of old songs. I note from this set-list from a year ago that the band is quite happy to mix and match newer and classic material. I would personally love a ‘Bye Bye Pride’ and would swoon at a ‘Part Company’ or ‘Mexican Postcard’. So many of this group’s songs make me sigh. I worship The Go-Betweens. They’re cooler than cool.

I’m being a bit offish and ignoring - well, trying to - all the latest news and rumours from Gloucester RFC. I have missed, through illness and a chess tournament, the last two matches at Kingsholm and, frankly, I’ve coped well with not attending games and every indication is that the club has coped perfectly well without me. I shall peer through my fingers as the club attempts to recruit for next year and shall probably slope back through the turnstiles for the Leeds match in a few weeks.

I’ve been playing, back to back, The Futureheads’ and Franz Ferdinand’s debut albums in the car. Franz Ferdinand received all the plaudits last year but I prefer The Futureheads. Their songs are meatier, beatier, bigger and bouncier and are solidly produced by the earnest Andy Gill. The Futureheads possess a tad more wit, intellect and a certain soupcon of danger and edge that the foppish Franz Ferdinand boys can only hint at.

Early Nights

I’m still not back to my best and have been enjoying early nights and plenty of sleep in order to mount a challenge to return to full health. I have not had the time or inclination to attend to these pages as much as I should but I hope to write more this week. My favoured rugby club are certainly poorly right now and I am despairing at the lack of passion those who wear the stripes are showing right now. I anticipate a clear out of dead wood soon and I would imagine that certain players lack motivation in the knowledge that their days are numbered. Next season can’t come soon enough but I hope that in the mean time enough satisfactory results are attained to secure European rugby for 05-06.

Yootha Joyce 2

Apologies for the recent no-show on these pages. What shall now be called the halcyon Yootha Joyce stage of my illness lasted a mere day before everything went belly up and a rotten chest infection took hold which has laid me lower than low. Vomiting was involved as well as missing Gloucester rugby matches and gigs in Bristol. Well, one match and one gig. I had never missed a match due to illness before although I did once leave a Fall gig early because of a migraine.

Yootha Joyce

A pale, poorly fellow here and a rare day off work to mope around swigging cough mixture straight out of the bottle and popping neurofen like there’s no tomorrow. It’s unusual to have the day to oneself and, although unwell, I haven’t wasted my time, watching the Man About The House TV tie-in feature film as well as Countdown all the way through. I even got the conundrum. I didn’t get the Man About The House film though. Perhaps it was a satire. George and Mildred Roper were, of course, wonderful. Mildred: Those cigarettes will be the death of you, George. Have another one. I even attempted to watch Murder She Wrote (something I have never tried before) using the Ceefax subtitles while I listened to the Radio 4 afternoon play. It was a truly psychedelic experience. Back to bed. I need to be fit for the weekend.

Coming Out in The Citizen

A hectic day or two and little time to attend to this frippery. I shall have to write a bumper piece at the weekend to make up for my inactivity. Rugbywise, all is quiet on the rumour front apart from John Yapp confirming that he is staying at Cardiff. I am pleased that Melville came out in The Citizen (careful…) and admitted that he had been interested in the Welsh youngster (careful…). Any road up, all this confirms that the club is in the market for quality players not bought in on the cheap. This is a good thing.

Today I have been mainly listening to Pere Ubu.