Singing the blues

I enjoyed Wilko Johnson greatly last night. Basically the fellow does five things. He plays such superb blues guitar that one feels the word ‘genius’ is a worthy one. He careers round the stage looking fierce. He ‘aims’ his instrument at the audience and pretends to be shooting them with a machine gun. He attempts a smooth ‘duck walk’ movement that generally comes off. He sings rhythm and blues scorchers in a whining, fairly high-pitched voice. All of the above render him a wonderful artist and one to cherish.

 

It was fine to accompany affable and jaunty S3 to the concert last night although I am still feeling a little tender and wan almost 24 hours after the event. It was a very late night. S3 has helped me fill up a little more space on the near vacuum that is my 40GB of Creative Zen beauty. Today I sat and listened to The Byrds’ Sweethearts of the Rodeo which is a beautiful recording. Later on, if I have time, I have new albums by Eels, New Order and Teenage Fanclub to consume as well as exciting stuff by Ambulance, Brendon Bensons and British Sea Power to explore. My cup, verily, doth overflow.

 

Tomorrow evening I shall be attending the British and Irish Lions play Argentina at the Millennium Stadium. The concept of ‘The Lions’ remains one of my most cherished sporting delights. My eyes regularly mist over when I consider the city club’s Mike Teague crashing through wave after wave of Australian would-be tacklers back in 1989 during that immense summer of bewitching rugby football. I shall be glued to all the Lions action this summer and feel privileged to help give the lads a rousing send-off on the morrow.