Gigs, Gigs, Gigs, Gigs, Gigs, Gigs, Gigs

Let's start with last Sunday at the 100 Club in Oxford Street, London, where The Irrepressibles were playing to promote their album Yo Homo!

Apologies in advance for my poor photography.

Regular readers will know that it's Jamie McDermot's encouragement that got me back performing music in 2005 as a an artist. I was his University lecturer, and I'd been going to see all the bands that the students had formed that year. The Irrepressibles were coming out on top of a very high standard of student music and songwriting, and I stopped him in the corridor to ask him when their next gig was. 'Why not come along and support us?' he asked. I could think of a million reasons why not, including the fact that I'd only ever played solo twice, it was more than 25 years since I'd played guitar on stage, and my guitar was in its case under my bed covered in a thick layer of dust. But I also felt that I wasn't a proper lecturer if I wasn't prepared to do exactly what the students did; I said yes, and did my first proper gig as a solo artist trembling with fear and playing the only three songs I could play without a band in front of students whose songwriting work I had marked in the past. Stress.

Going to see this latest incarnation of the band at the 100 Club in London was a no-brainer and to my great pleasure, Joe Davin from Brighton was playing bass with them too, joining a line-up of guitar, cello, viola, violin, grand piano, drums and Jamie also on guitar. Jamie has possibly one of the most beautiful male voices on earth (next to Kenji's) and always sends shivers down my spine when I hear him live. The band is multi-sexual as befits Jamie's philosophy, and the audience was a very safe space for gay people to feel comfortable. My favourite song was the one described as a country song, but with its pizzicato strings and harmonies it reminded me of the very best of 60s girl group songs. There was another, Destination, the first of the inevitable encore, that was a sure-fire hit in my estimation. They are on tour at the moment, a definite 'band of the moment to see and hear'. It's probably silly to say this but I feel massively proud of Jamie.

On Wednesday, I treated myself to seeing Joan as Policewoman at the Union Chapel in London. I love her early songs, and I've been listening to her more recent music on Riley and Coe's shows on BBC6. There was a very odd etiquette at the venue; people had reserved swathes of seats with their coats and bags, almost all of the 'good' seats, and it was embarrassing to wander around looking for somewhere to sit when it looked as though seats were empty. This was a level of passive aggression on a level with people reserving sun-loungers around the swimming pool at holiday destinations. I can understand the relaxed attitude of the staff because it is, of course, a church most of the time. But for someone like me going to a gig on my own, if felt hostile. Luckily I found a seat in front of a pillar, and was able to see most of it. Next to Joan's fantastic voice (at times like an extended dog-bark in timbre), she had a remarkable drummer. I watched him damp his crash cymbals so he didn't overpower the dynamic of the songs, and his flexible playing was a marvel to watch. In one song, he picked up on the rhythm and cadences of the main vocal and lyrical line in the song, and played with impeccable tempo throughout. This made listening to the music really relaxing (one of the bad things about doing a lot of recordings and the constant use of a metronome is that you become really conscious of variations in tempo when you both see music live and play it yourself, unfortunately. You become very tuned-in to unintended wobbles in timing). The whole level of professionalism was astonishing and gave the impression of ease, and a flow to the songs that was inspiring. There were of them on stage: Joan on vocals, piano, guitar and synth, and additional guitarist and the drummer both of whom sang, and they created a lush soundscape. At times they veered towards jazz, but then they returned to the off-the-wall melodies and rhythms that Joan is so well known for. I left with a smile in my heart. No photographs, I'm afraid- I was too far away.

Then this weekend started with The Wouldbegoods, Panic Pocket and me at The Water Rats in London's King's Cross, a gig organised by Bizarro Promotions who have a knack of matching up bands and music to maximise the pleasure for their punters. Being first on can be tough, but the sound engineer got me a good sound and enough people came early to make it feel well-attended right from the start. It goes to show how important the 'vibe' from the audience is to getting a good show from the artists they come to see; if people are listening and smiling, the whole feel of the gig goes up a few notches. 

Panic Pocket had a full all-female band this time around (they sometimes play as a duo), but their vocals were still to the forefront. They sing along in unison a lot of the time, which gives their songs a pleasingly bratty and assertive sound albeit presented in a very good-humoured and melodic way. It's something about the fact that they are really glamorous too, and have excellent songs. We were dancing, in our little corner. The photo is from the sound check.

This was the ideal venue for the Wouldbegoods in terms of sound. I've seen them too as a duo, and also as a full band at The Bush Hall and The Betsey Trotwood (great sound there, but oh so crammed!). Here, you could hear everything and although it was pretty full by the time they came on to the stage I could see Andy Warren playing bass (yay!), and hear everything else. Their songs are incomparable, really, spanning French pop influences, The Sweet, gentle indiepop, and their own 'world' of songwriting. This is pure quality, and I would be very jealous if I was not so admiring of their sound and style! Every time I see them I find more to hear in their songs, which is the best possible thing you can say about a band. They were simply wonderful, and the encore delivered yet more fabulous song-smithery. I hope this bill is repeated again some time: it felt completely energising to be part of it. The audience included members of The Dollymixture, The High Span, The Loft, and numerous other musicians (hello Kath Tait!) and producers (hello Ruth Tidmarsh!) of note who had come to drink in the magical silver songwriting moments of the evening. Three cheers for the song-writing underground, and all who sail in her!

And so to last night, yet another evening of good music at the Aces and Eights in Tufnell Park. Again, I was the first on, but I was lucky to be playing to a listening room with no background rumble of chat to contend with. Lester Square and Jo came along and Peter Tainsh, too. I felt brave enough to play The Ginger Line for only the second time (breaking in new songs is tough). The second band was The Alter Moderns, a Brazilian duo with a woman drummer/singer Ananda, and a riff-tastic male guitarist/singer, both dressed in red and incredibly energetic. Their music is deceptively intricate: you hear sheer power, then when you listen in to it, the parts are linked in to each other in a really sophisticated way. We made friends! Again, the photo is from the sound check.

The lovely Micko who organised it all was the headliner. In this incarnation of his band, the songs sound on the punky side of power-pop, which is apt considering he writes about subjects like noisy neighbours. My favourite song of theirs is the one about Joe Meek. Micko is a local to Holloway, and has a natural fascination with Meek and his ouevre. The Melletronics got the room dancing and played a well-deserved encore to a crowd of devoted fans. The photo shows them tuning up before they started to play.

Well, that was a full week of music listening and music playing. In between, I managed not only a couple of grim things (don't ask), but also a visit to my brother James's to re-record the guitar parts for 24 Hours and Food as we complete the four tracks for The Pop-Up Chefs E.P., and sent a track to Jem from Asbo Derek requesting him to write and record a miserable rap for the song I wrote about them being missed-out in a live review, The Band That Time Forgot.

Oh music, I love you.