If there has to be a last gig of the season, yesterday's could not have been better. Held in the bar of The Betsey Trotwood, with the ever-brilliant Joao doing sound and under the watchful eye of Razz the owner, as the winter blustered, drizzled and thumped outside, the warmth generated by the venue and its audience fought back valiantly.
There is something about these little gigs in stormy weather that intensifies the whole experience, I think for the people listening as much as for the performers. It was pretty full but not uncomfortably so; Debsey and Hester (the other Dollymixtures) were there (and so was Hester's lovely sister Roz, who was a librarian at the University of Westminster when I worked there). My nephew and niece (with her partner) came, and Offsprog Two and her partner. Little Bruv came. The Would-Be-Goods came, Dave came, and various other London stars put in a twinkling appearance.
It was quite an emotional afternoon on many fronts. I was very worried about it, but need not have been. Everyone listened 100% to my songs, every word and every chord. I don't care about any of the past slights, unfairnesses, double-crosses, jealous behaviour, none of that. To have this amount of respect for my songs at this stage of my life makes me the richest person in the world. Who would want to be an empty-hearted billionaire and miss out on this degree of intimacy?
And as for Rachel and the Loveables, having supported them for three gigs in quick succession, this was a comfortable triumph for them. The sound was perfect; you could hear every single note of their arrangements and such is Rachels' onstage persona, everyone felt as though they, too, were in the band.
I have to say that The Dollymixture were one of the most under-rated bands of the 1980s. They took the whole girl-group ethos and processed it through an English DIY lens in a direction that a lot of of the punk-inspired bands could not see or hear at all- and the rock critics definitely couldn't. The tightrope that they walked between amplifying and celebrating their nuanced friendship (which has endured for decades), rock-solid song writing, and subtly parodying the way people saw them was astonishing. Always, always, they were underestimated because they were feminine. Did people not clock the fact that they did a cover version of the song Femme Fatale by Lou Reed? Or that they supported The Undertones on tour? The underestimation of their skills and intelligence lies firmly in the laps of the idiots who thought they could manipulate the group, or who didn't understand what they were doing. Some of these people were women journalists, too. It's called internalised misogyny, I believe. Shame on them!
That was quite a big rant for a Sunday morning. Let's return to yesterday afternoon, where Rachels's band the Loveables did her songs proud with spot-on harmonies, fabulous and relaxed playing, and a commitment to doing their absolute musical best for their song-writing legend bandleader. Every song creates a mini-world of its own, and there are a lot of unexpected twists and turns both in the music and the lyrics. Every second is thought through yet performed in such a way that it all seems spontaneous. I know the songs well now, and I was singing along very loudly in my head; it was all I could do not to leap up on stage and join them, but I'd had my turn. Instead, my heart swelled with pride and love for the defiance of a woman who has had her fair share of life's setbacks, but can turn out a performance to rival the best of anything. As the set progressed, the band grew more and more confident and by the encore they gave us a blast of sheer joy. The gig ended with a huge roar of appreciation.
The audience were with them the whole way through, and I bet they were as glad that they had been there as I was. We all went home with rosy cheeks and a sparkle in our eyes.
Damn the cold and the wind: Vitamin Rachel sorted the day out!
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