I had an art workshop to do yesterday evening, but afterwards I raced over to the White Cube in Bermondsey to see as much of the Raincoats' set as I could. They had been invited to perform by the artist Imi Knoebel, whose work was being exhibited in the huge exhibition space.
Like a large tunnel, the space where the band was playing was absolutely packed with people who gave off an air of huge warmth and celebration. Every song was bookended by a roar of approval at its outset and wild applause at the end. There should be a gig like this at the beginning of every grey, cold and dull February to add some colour an optimism to the year ahead. Anne Wood, viola player extraordinaire, was with them, weaving between Gina and Anna and commenting on their vocal performances with flourishes of energetic playing. The drums were mixed perfectly and drove the music along at a perfect tempo for each song. The sound was amazing- so much better than it had been at the gig at Earth. It was and uplifting show with a proper party atmosphere. When Gina sang No-One's Little Girl at the end, I felt like crying: it struck such a chord. It takes a huge struggle and massive effort to get to this, to survive everything life throws at you. Here was a group of women who were at the very margins of art and music for almost a lifetime, and here they were speaking to generations of men and women who knew and know the value of their creative output.
There was more than a smattering of rock royalty about, although still befuddled by my cold I wasn't sure who I knew and who I didn't. Lee was there, and Sean McCluskey. Debbie Smith from Thee Nuns was there with Est Ella from Big Joanie, and we had a really nice chat. There were people that various people I was chatting to wondered if they were famous, or whether we just vaguely knew them. Typical London night out or really a London party, such was the atmosphere. I missed the free fish and chips, alas, but the conversation kept flowing and kept me going. Towards the end of the evening, several large bars of chocolate appeared on the long table we were sitting around in the dressing room. Green & Blacks. Nice.
Imi Knoebel's paintings are worth seeing. Some people I was talking to were not so keen, but I do love big statement paintings in primary colours and the gallery is such a dramatic place to see them. I had always wondered why people made such a fuss about polished concrete floors and now I know why. The colour of an ice rink being refrozen, the surface was indeed glossy enough to skate on, and a beautiful artefact in itself.
Hooray for music, and hooray for older women in bands who sing what they think and bust through glass ceilings, streets full of February fog, and polished concrete floors!
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