Once upon a time we weren't the dance happy girls. We were teachers, mothers, sisters, daughters, wives or partners. We were markers of books and makers of packed lunches, we found things, fixed things, cleaned things, cooked things and taught things. But we were always friends.
This is the record of how two friends rediscovered themselves, rediscovered music and became the dance happy girls.
Sunday 9th November - Billy Idol With my heart somewhere in lost property at the union chapel - I wasn't sure that I was ready to get dance happy again just 24 hours later, but when the archetypal 80s bad boy comes to town, well it would be rude not to. So, Sunday night saw me heading to the Hammersmith Odeon (it will always be The Odeon to me) to see THE beautiful punk who cracked MTV Billy Idol. There was a very shouty support band which may have been called YEAH YEAH FUCK YEAH INCOMPREHENSIBLE LOUD SOUND with a guitarist who may or may not have been blind. Billy kept this audience of 40 and 50 somethings waiting; crushed up against complete strangers, shoes sticking to the beer sodden floor and backs aching from the effort of standing upright on the seriously raked floor for bloody ages. But to a heart thudding base from amidst an array of strobe lighting the somewhat vampiric and ridiculously sexy Billy Idol stepped forth and we were willing to forgive him anything.
This blond bombshell has sold his soul to the devil (possibly Steve Stevens) as age doesn't seems to have touched him - he's in great shape and he leapt around the stage with the energy of a man 20 years younger. There were sneers and snarls and occasional devastating smiles, dressed in leader and studs, except when he wasn't :)
Steve Stevens is Idol's right hand man, a sneering, snarling, chain smoking, devil of a guitarist who is an incredibly talented ego maniac. His solo spot was, in Janie's words, "one huge wank"but hey, don't knock it, I needed a loo break.
The setlist was strong with enough to keep ageing punks and fair-weather fanciers happy. It was glam punk theatre at it's finest. Billy - you're a hero!
Well. I can't think of a better word for the emotion that I felt sitting in the union chapel last night (8th November) listening to the inimitable Chris Difford and Glen Tilbrook sing the soundtrack to my life. (I am hoping of course that my life doesn't end a la labelled with love) I've seen Chris Difford perform before, at an intimate event called dinner with Difford, and I fell for the humble charm and deep voice of the man who penned 'Up at the junction' aged just 16 years old. Then he had spoken candidly about the band which he had clearly loved and loathed in equal measure during its turbulent years but last night was a much more guarded set. This tour has been dubbed 'The At Odds Couple' and this isn't entirely tongue in cheek. I loved the start - the visual nod to the 50p stolen from mum Difford's purse to place the ad in the newsagent for a guitarist for his, as yet, non-existent, band and the one and only response from a young Glen. Or maybe it just allowed the diehard squeeze fans to feel a little smug at getting the references. Despite starting in bed together with a nod to Morcombe and Wise there was a definite lack of warmth between Difford and Tilbrook. There were several instances in each half when one of them would leave the stage allowing the other to perform alone "Black Coffee in Bed" for Tillbrook "Fat as a fiddle" for Difford and Tilbrook's instance on Christopher Difford galled a little, but when they perform together - that's when the magic happens. That's when you realise what a dynamite couple they are.
This dance happy girl is decidedly Team Difford.
The voices are still amazingly strong - black coffee in bed brought down a little for Tillbrook but undeniable squeeze. I was a little confused by Tempted which sounded different from my memories of it until I realised that Paul Carrack took lead vocals on the original - hold that thought for a pub quiz. No mention was made of Carrack or Holland, in fact Squeeze itself appeared to be the elephant in the room. This was Difford and Tilbrook, Tilbrook and Difford "Don't mention the band"
There was a fleeting moment of togetherness when making it through 'Slap & Tickle' they shared a brief celebratory hug which left us wondering why it had all gone so horribly wrong (the relationships as opposed to the song) It was a dynamite set only lacking one real gem with my favourite Squeeze line of all time "I wanna be good - is that not enough?"
Janie to 'yeti up' and queue in the pouring rain to be in with a hope of seeing the whites of their eyes we did indeed grab a pew within 'eye-meeting' distance and I fear I may have left my heart in the Union Chapel on Saturday night. Wonder if it's in lost property?
It all began several months ago with one of those 'what are you doing on….' conversations, without a hint as to why you might want to know, for fear that your victim invents a prior engagement. So this episode begins. I had been approached on Twitter by 'Stu' who asked me to give his music a listen to and subsequently invited me along to his gig. And thus on Friday, Janie and I found ourselves heading North to a new venue and a brand new band. Lux Lisbon at the The Lexington, oh how we adore a little alliteration :) The Lexington website sounded more than a little promising "Welcome to The Lexington, Islington's finest new music venue and lounge bar, here to tie it all together for you with a mix of riotous rock 'n' roll upstairs and a ground floor lounge that we kind of hope might just entice you in and seduce you in a slowburning glow of downbeat decadence and bluesy class - with perhaps just a dash of burlesque elegance thrown in for good measure."
In actuality it is….. a pub with a few sofas, and not enough seating, does this pass as burlesque elegance? Luckily we have never had an issue with sharing and we found a table just crying out for our company. The food was good but this dance happy girl can't vouch for the alcohol, long story, but we had a jolly time catching up At about 8pm we headed upstairs and into... The Bronze circa 1995. This analogy was lost on Janie, the girl with the Buffy-less past, but I was there. There was a certain dark, cheap dinginess to the room; the constant background chatter of folk who appeared to know each other, the stage at the end giving a sense of the band being 'in addition to' as opposed to the main event and the general effect aided and abetted by the support, Careless Sons.
One of these is a member of Careless Sons, the other, a werewolf called Oz.
Possibly taking the analogy too far but definitely a touch of the vampire about Dickon
(I do hope that he's really called Dickon, I love it when posh boys go all rock 'n' roll)
I obviously mentally cast myself in the role of Willow, a redhead wearing sensible shoes, and besides - a Facebook quiz once told me so. (I am also a vampire with a red aura who should be living in New York - apparently)
I liked Careless Sons - they cared, they performed and they can sing which for a band which is the support for an unknown band - well, that ticks all the boxes. Definitely worth a listen.
Lux Lisbon were undeniably great! This is a hard working, passionate working band. I wondered how many of the 230 in the audience had come, as we had, as a result of a direct approach from Stu. Stu is a consummate front man, working the audience and controlling every element of the sound. But this is no one man band and a wonderful surprise was the fabulous Charlotte Austen on vocals and bass. It isn't easy to be a woman in a band and Charlotte has found the holy grail in appealing to men and women alike. She is very natural, smiley, jean and T-shirt clad, and somewhat self depreciating "Thanks relations". The guys in the audience wanted to take her home, the women wanted to be her friend. Erm… Charlotte, my position of best friend is taken, but if you want a drinking partner and general buddy…' A quick mention must go to the, apparently newly single, trumpeter Elliot Phelps who was looking for love with no age limit. Let's hope Charlotte meant no UPPER age limit Elliot - you can go to jail for that kind of a thing ;) The band played everything from their new EP and everyone was a winner. I loved all of them; Get some Scars, The Devil got me Dancing and Demons You Show. There were a couple of new numbers including 'Show me the Money' which Stu went to great pains to tell us was nothing to do with Jerry Maguire. I think the man doth protest too much.
In an unusual turn of events this is a picture of Janie and I taken by the band. Can you find us?
It's a gigging 'Where'e Wally?'
Lux Lisbon, you were a revelation. We can't wait to see you again in January and if I were a gambling woman I'd call you as the one to watch.
A Monday night in May at the Shepherds Bush Empire with your dance happy bestie and four lovely 'hangers-on' and your teenage girl crush. Starting the week with a BLONDIE Bang!!!! (so to speak)
So, feeling terribly wicked being out on a Monday we made the rendezvous in the pub next door and spent so long catching up and getting the beers in that we only caught a few minutes of the very young and terribly sprightly support act. I can't remember who they were and alas even google cannot spit out their name. Sorry boys (I think they were boys) The sticky floored downstairs was heaving and as we were greater in number than usual it was no mean feat to get to a position where we could actually see Blondie but we made it to a suitable vantage point; reasonable view, able to get to the bar, REALLY BAD for toilets. (It would take every ounce of dance happy sass to get back to my homies after the one trip that I made.) Debbie Harry arrived on stage looking like a particularly sassy everton mint and Blondie started with 'One Way or Another' which was met with a roar of approval as these veterans of pop wrestled it effortlessly back from the adolescent mitts of One Direction. And then it was hit after perfect hit. Perhaps some of the missing hits are the only real indication of the fact that Debbie Harry herself is 69 (HOW???) and hasn't the full range that once she did but otherwise it was a superb set.
Following the aforementioned toilet break and sassy return, convincing people that I did actually have a space nearish the front I had the surreal experience of bumping into friends that I hadn't seen for years. But at the time it seemed OK because I was drunk and also so obviously a teenager because I was at a Blondie gig. At least, I think that happened. I certainly danced to Atomic with someone that I thought I knew.
During the encore I found myself watching Blondie through an iPad screen as an ardent fan decided to video 'Picture This' A curse on gig videoers and all who sail in her.
But, still in full on sass mode I asked him to send me a couple of the photos that he had taken, in recompense. 'If you give me your number.' HAH the lipstick on the arm technique still works a treat and voila the man hereby to be referred to as Paul (because that is his name) sent me some pics of the popstar pensioner herself. Thanks Paul - all is forgiven.
May this be an example that people are good and people bound by a common experience are the 'goodest' of all. Despite the salacious comments from my gig buddies the lovely Paul texted some photos the very next day, I texted my thanks and we have never made contact with each other again. Gig goers are good people, except for the perv at the Adam Ant gig but he will burn in everlasting hell fire and be forced to listen to one direction for all eternity.
Saturday 13th September, the dance happy, champagne fuelled, girls set off for a brand new venue so that one of us (ahem) could drool a little at the feet of the man she had once intended to marry.
I was 13 or 14 when Nik Kershaw first got picked up on my adolescent radar with 'I won't let the sun go down on me' and it was true love. This may well have also been the last time that I was the same size as Nik, he boldly claimed a 5'5 on Saturday night but that's not what he told The Guardian
"I am not tall – I was 5ft 4in last time I measured myself,
but I am probably smaller now: people start shrinking at 45."
He is decidedly diddy but with a voice that can soar and stir. It is the same voice and for awhile, sitting in a church (that's novel) with my bestie, I was 13 again and utterly lost.
Nik Kershaw an unlikely but self confessed love child of Leonard Cohen and Mr Tumble charmed us with talk of the past and the present and songs new and old. He won me over with 'Wide Boy' and kept me in the palm of his hand for a long solo acoustic set.
I forgave him for not sharing with the audience that The Riddle had, in fact, been a coded love song to my teenaged self, after all his wife Sarah was in the house. But I don't think anyone fell for the 'It was a load of bollocks really - tree, river….. just an impromptu play on a folk song' YEAH RIGHT! But the secret is safe with me Nik.
This was a set of two halves (literally) so I feel that we can take a brief intermission to talk about the union chapel itself. Hmmmm.
The union chapel is a beautiful working church in the heart of Islington. A stunning building and if I were God (why hasn't that happened yet by the way?) then I am sure that I would like to hang out there.
It's highly atmospheric and the lighting is stunning - for some numbers I just watched Nik's shadow (bigger than he is) playing against the domed ceiling like a kind of cool guitar playing Peter Pan.
But, and it's a big but, it is very….. proper. Alcohol is served in an upstairs bar and you cannot bring it down into the chapel hidden in your large jacket pockets, no sireeee, no way, don't even think about it. You sit in the pews and sit and sit and sit. The dance happy girls don't sit and it feels sort of wrong. To be fair an acoustic gig of this nature with a lot of talk does kind of lend itself to sitting but it felt enforced! If you stand no one else will be able to see and some of the audience clearly needed to be sitting. It is not sweaty and sticky - it is possibly the gig venue for people who do not like gigs, if only I knew of such a person…
The second half was as strong as the first with pauses for questions from the audience ranging from 'Why didn't you marry me?' (or perhaps that was just in my head) to 'What do you really think about Howard Jones?' all answered with a grin and a twinkle, a likeable self depreciation and a minor rant about us paying more for our babysitters than for our tickets.
The audience had warmed up a bit - I hope they weren't guilty of secreting alcohol about their person in the house of the lord. And there was a very jolly sing along to The One and Only. I'm guessing Nik had heard about my dance with Chesney and was just asserting his position AS the one and only.
You can definitely hear Janie and I here - we were the ones who knew the second line :) And we were not doing the community clapping thing. The dance happy girls do NOT clap on demand!
It was a well rounded set, finishing with I won't let the sun go down on me was a must and the encore of Human Racing was just gorgeous. He did a good Stevie Wonder but to be fair I would rather he had finished with one of his own - I always want to leave singing along to the main man.
Wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes? Well, I fear that they would be rather small Nik - but it was good to get up close and personal. You sang the hell out of Saturday night.
