People who only talk to you when they need advice / a favour / a hug.
Willy Mason is perhaps my god.
Of course, it's a big claim, and one that I'm entirely unable to properly justify, particularly since - gasp! - I don't even own his apparently ingenius album 'Where The Humans Eat'. However, from the stuff I have heard, and from last night's amazing experience, I'm pretty much prepared to begin worshipping him at once.
Lyrically the man pisses all over Bob Dylan from a fucking bridge. His beautiful, touching, hauntingly poignant poetry hung in the air magnificently last night, ringing out through the PA system and floating around the Brudenell like fairy dust. It was the sort of lyricism that makes me refer to it in horrible, horrible, clichéd metaphors such as that one. It was special.
People talked, because people are fucking half-wits, but from the front where Ruth and I were the chatter was practically inaudible, and the quiet from in front of the stage allowed for some real 'getting into the vibe' of the music. It wasn't difficult. Mason's guitar playing skill, songwriting ability, and aforementioned lyrical dexterity all made for a superbly engrossing evening. Meeting the man himself afterwards, I'm sure I came across as more than a bit of a fanboy, but sod it. He's a great gent, really down to earth and in it for the love of the biz as opposed to the $$$ or anything. I liked that.
Things are going moderately okay at the moment, a lot of shit that's been going on is pretty much sorted out and I just need to start getting back on top of everything and stop being a fucking twat about some things.
That is all. Peace out, all.
Got a new Myspace thing going. You can find it at www.myspace.com/lewisdenbyuk - feel free to add me for a chat and what have you.
I also plan to start updating this thing more soon. Gig on 27th, by the way... easing my way back into this live performance shiznay.
We're all thinking about you, honey. You're gonna be okay. Take care.
Now I've always been one to stand up for The Darkness and their securing of the lost art of giving music fans a bit of fun in their listening. They hit a niche and sold a load of records on the basis that they made music which no-one thought they cared about any more, but actually did. It's cheesy, but it's fun.
Still, the new single is absolutely shit and should die.
That is all.
Challenged Paul to a beard-off for the Christmas Awards. If you're eligible to vote, please do so, for me.
Nipping off to London until the weekend with Media Studies, so miss me.