Rhoda Dakar and the Audience

It was the launch of Rhoda's album last night in Filthy McNasty's.
Rhoda was in the loo getting ready and her friend was too, and we chatted for a while about shoes and teenagers.
It was crowded and very hot in the back room- lots of stylish thirty- and forty-somethings, women with beehives and winged specs, the men were all tall, people with intelligent faces talking about little gigs in mad places. Later, that was going to be a problem..
The microphones at the venue are awful- at first I thought it was caused by the sound travelling through the heads of the tall men, then I realised that the bloody things really sounded like they had socks stuffed down them-I've loved Rhoda's voice ever since the Specials AKA album, and it was SO frustrating being able to hear that she is still a fantastic singer, but not properly. Her voice is gorgeous, but last night you had to imagine it's beauty.
I was expecting just ska, but the first few songs were surprisingly rocky- with her guitarist Nick, they did a spirited cover of Queen Bitch- the energy was there straight away. They did Racist Friend, a song called 'Half an Hour in Heaven' (?)
But then the audience kicked in- or their alchohol intake did. At one point there was a bloke (you know who you are, tall bloke in green and white striped shirt) with his back to the stage, YELLING at two glamorous girls in black dresses who YELLED back.
It was like they wanted to just Be At A Rhoda Dakar Gig, not listen to her sing her music. There was a remarkable number of rude people just shouting all the way through. It didn't seem to bother Rhoda- maybe she's used to rowdy crowds- but there was another room in the pub they could have gone to to yell at each other.
Oh bah!
The thing is, some of the shouters, who didn't give the impression of having listened at all, said creepy goodbyes to her at the end. I marvel at their ghastliness. If an audience won't shut up for Rhoda Dakar, who will they shut up for? She's so lovely and she has fought for so many principles in he life, I just thought it was unforgivable.
End of rant.

Through the crowds I saw Lucy O'Brien. She was with a friend who designs embroidery and we had a yak and talked to Rhoda too. I failed abysmally to network with Neil Spencer, who used edit the New Musical Express and now does horoscopes and writes for the Observer. I am supposed to be trying to get my book reviewed, but I just wanted to get home. He did Lucy's horoscope, which I think she found mildly unsettling.
I bought a copy of Rhoda's album, which I'll review when I've listened to it. First, I have to write a talk about the Lost Women of Rock Music for the Institute of Musical Research which I'm doing on Thursday. I am scared, because they are proper, and I seem to have washed my gravitas down the sink during one of my periods of sustained housework.

I am missing my phone still, although I am finishing the song that I was trying to record on it when I realised it had gone. No phone nicker's gonna stop me writing songs.
I would like to write a song for Rhoda to sing!