Sweet Disorder

The Cat Empire @ 02 Brixton Academy

I went to watch The Cat Empire on the weekend. I went alone, joined only by the ticket I bought two months ago. When traipsing off to see a band you really love – there’s always that nasty voice slipping a slight sense of foreboding into the evening. What if they give a horrendous performance or even worse…what if they’re seriously mediocre? Oh the horror.

Well, standing outside the 02 Brixton Academy in October’s prematurely chilly air, I am accosted in the sweetest way by three enthused Australians. After determining I am there alone they grab me by the hand and voila – I am part of their crew. Up the stairs I go, and a little disappointed with being in the air (first 3 rows must remain seated?!) I take a seat in fourth row and wait. I wait a long time. Tinpan Orange coos eclectic tunes, but I am most impressed with their violinist come guitarist whose appearance is incredibly deceiving. His awkward stature dissolves as he whips out some superb sounds. I like them – this quirky troupe of Aussies but they must finish now. It’s cold in the bleachers and I’m growing impatient.

At last the lads I’ve been waiting for take the stage. The rest is a whirlwind of well loved songs, phenomenal jamming and all round foot stomping, screaming, shouting, smiling, singing bliss. I am elated. I cannot believe my ears – this is better than any track I’ve listened to. Felix sings - his thick chocolate tunes oozing warm and sweet. Harry lets rip an almighty performance – his voice is truly an original and transfixes me. What strikes me most is the way band members watch each other – waiting expectantly for direction from whoever is taking the solo. It’s great to see. Invisible strings pull between them, this way and that. Whatever road the mood takes one, the others oblige and follow seamlessly. A path twisting and turning and keeping you completely on your toes, ducking and diving at drum and keys solos, horns and saucy vocals. Harry howls and scats, his horn growls along with the others and I feel it run up and down my grooving spine. Gone are any restrictions – I am free listening to this. Hints of world sounds and boogaloo blues filter into the ska format like a dream. I dance, my Aussie compadres dance, the entire academy is dancing; even rows 1,2 and 3 are dancing (despite Security’s efforts).

Watching The Cat Empire live is nothing short of a seemingly infinite good time. Beautifully begun and divinely ended. I leave happiness personified.

No need for nuisance

Puddles all over

I walk with worn shoes

Cracks below and a toe peeps through

Little girl shrieks, “Puddles!” with glee

She lands in one; unscathed

I walk vexed by seeping soles

Puddles are just a nuisance

I need new shoes to embrace the rain like that little girl

…with glee.

Superman and Me

So, I’ve been pretty quiet lately - but this is due to busyness. Believe me. I’m beginning to understand what Clark Kent/Superman felt like in his day to day existence. Leading a double life is rather exhausting at times. Although I am not a Daily Planet journalist by day nor am I super hero by night - I like to think I can draw a small comparison. I happen to be PR by day and pub waitress by night. Although I’m not saving the world and writing cutting edge journo content - I reckon the two professions transport me to different planets daily. That’s heck of a lot of mental travel. I deal with different people in each instance and find myself under completely polar pressures and expectations.

These planets I live in don’t know of each other. The closest collision was during a double shift at the pub. When the precious two hour break commenced, I skipped my routine nap in Wimbledon common, and instead ripped off my apron and tie, switching bottle opener for laptop, so beginning a PR work session. I was Clark amorously tearing off my suit for brightly coloured spandex - you see the parallel? I went off for two hours to The United States of AAA, leaving The Republic of Pub behind. Two hours later I returned to The Republic of Pub, almost as though The United States of AAA was somewhat non-existant.

I suppose the arrangement is working well at the moment.

Today I saw AAA’s first listing in Time Out Magazine - very good news. And this Friday night I actually get to witness, first hand, this seemingly dreamy place I keep talking about - off I go to Nimmo and the Gauntletts followed by DJ Leon Lace at AAA. Lurverly.

And the darling pub doesn’t fail in giving me worthy news - I get 2 weeks paid leave in November. Lurverly again.