Beyonce's Dressage

We've just been watching the coverage of Beyonce at Glastonbury, and I was surprised at how much she and her backing dancers looked like they were doing some weird kind of human dressage. Perhaps it was the combination of impractical shoes and potentially crotch revealing leotards that made them wary of taking steps that were too large, but whatever their reasons the overall effect was pretty peculiar. I was, however, impressed at her knee sliding action which, contrary to my personal experience, didn't seem to end up in scabby blisters and bruised kneecaps.

Thumb Pick X-Factor

Having experimented over the years with different styles and playing positions, the Boy Wonder has developed a process for creating the perfect pick. First he imports thumb picks from the US, because even with shipping it's somehow cheaper than buying them in the UK. Then, every couple of months he goes through a process I have christened 'Thumb Pick X-Factor' which is an emotional roller coaster.

The first round involves a very literal whittling down of the entrants - each thumb pick is trimmed to fit the Platonic (Boy Wonderic maybe?) ideal of a thumb pick, and we start to get to know the contestants and learn a little bit about them. Occasionally the trimming involves an injury on the Boy Wonder's part which makes it easy to work out which one has the tragic but heart-warming tale of adversity well and truly overcome with which to engage the audience's sympathy.

Round two is an exercise in polishing the product - the picks are filed down to give a smooth playing edge and checked for uniformity of shape.

Round three is gruelling for all the contestants - each pick is scored several times across its inner surface before having ground up bow rosin pressed into the grooves.

Round four is the most competitive part of the process - each thumb pick is tried out, with a chance to be used to play for a short period to ascertain whether they are fit for purpose.

Round five is the makeover - it's very rare that any of the contestants don't make it through the final round, but there is always a pecking order, and this is where the makeover comes in. Each pick is decorated in a unique design picked out in permanent marker, so that the Boy Wonder can identify his favourites when examining the contents of his hand after scrabbling in his pocket for a pick. The favourite is used almost exclusively to start with, and the others follow suit until, through loss or overuse, they are all deemed impractical and the process begins again.

Not surprisingly, this exercise would usually be of little or no interest to a spectator, which goes some way to explaining why I can often be found providing interesting facts about the contestants while he works. It stops me getting bored and makes me feel as though I am supporting all aspects of the Boy Wonder's musical career.

All the bands I've seen

I thought it would be interesting (for me alone of course) to list all the bands/artists I have seen so that when I'm old and senile, assuming I can remember my log in to this blog, I will be able to reminisce about all the fun times I assume I had. I'm only including bands I have paid or chosen to see as the number of bands I have seen through no fault of my own is probably much larger and more worrying than those I actually chose to listen to. BB King Dr John and the Lower 911 Gov't Mule Metallica Megadeth The Rolling Stones Robert Cray Fun Lovin' Criminals John Otway John Martyn Soundgarden The North Mississippi Allstars The Suweto Gospel Choir Buddy Guy Guy Clarke Tony Joe White Mavis Staples (and the Mussle Shoals Rythm Section) Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen Albert Lee Buena Vista Social Club REM Blur Sparks Humphrey Lyttleton Kings of Leon The Suweto Gospel Choir

Papa Grows Funk

The Black Crowes

The Alman Brothers

Dumpsterphunk

Alan Toussaint

Buckwheat Zydeco

Earth, Wind and Fire

If I was starting a band...

I would use one, many or all of these band names and alter egos: Spatchcock Fuck Sticks and the Stinky Poles Widdershins and the Jazz Hands

Good gig, bad gig

Good gigs that might not have been : Guy Clarke when he didn't play the only song we knew of his but turned out to be generally awesome anyway; Tony Joe White at spyderfest when he was announced about 5 minutes before he actually found his way through the incredibly thick fog into the tent, but was still wearing sunglasses when he did appear. Gigs that should have been good: Tony Joe White and Mavis Staples and the Muscle Shoals Rythym Section, where they showboated and vamped their way through the whole performance and didn't really bring the funk; Dr John in Amsterdam when the fuckin saxophonist played way too much; when we went to see BB King and super ugly guitarist Gary Moore was his support and overran with his shitty widdly guitar solos so that BB King had to cut his set short to finish on time

Inflicting your music on the public

Further to my post about the annoying tendency of people to be oblivious to the impact their overly loud conversation has on those around them at gigs, I feel I should also condemn a practice which is borne of a similar lack of courtesy but with the opposite effect. I went to an event in London last week, and on the way there I was treated to the sound of some child, around 10 or 11 I’d guess, with his mother, who was definitely old enough to know better, playing some kind of MP3 player out loud on the train! I was gob smacked – I am aware that the yout’ love to whip out an MP3 player loaded with crappy R ‘n’ B, lame guitar bands and the latest ring-tones, but I have never seen one with parents in tow. Do they really think that everyone in the train carriage wanted to listen to their choice of music? Are they the only people who are unaware of fact that all those other people would have brought their own MP3 player had they wanted to listen to music on the train? Is it legal to kill someone for inflicting some warbling half-wit on me while I’m trying to read? I remember when the Sony Walkman was the height of sophistication, and there used to be signs on public transport asking people to ensure that they weren’t listening to their music at such an ear-splitting level that the leak from the headphones would disturb other passengers. It didn’t occur to me that one day, I would be held to mental ransom by a child deciding that what they want is more important that anyone else’s desire for a quiet ride. I am well aware that my main problem is really a public lack of consideration – they could have been playing music I love, and I would still have felt that it was an inappropriate place and time to share it. I also feel very hard done-by that I am considerate to the point of stupidity and if others aren’t going to play fair then the system doesn’t work. I recently spent a frustrating five minutes walking behind a man who was dithering his way to the station because there wasn’t quite enough room for me to pass him without (in my mind) implying that he was slow. I once ended up crying because I had gone round the corner to buy croissants for breakfast, and then I let someone go first at the bread display because I didn’t want to reach across him (even though I had been there before him), only to then watch him take every last croissant in the shop. In the latter case, it was more the rudeness of him that upset me – I am not that pathetic that I get croissant withdrawal – because I was trying to be nice, and he went a ruined it and made me feel like an idiot for doing so. And what’s the point? If I am nice to someone who not only doesn’t appreciate that I have been nice to them, but also breaks the chain of niceness, then it all stops working. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, I was brought up too well to stop saying thank-you to surly sales assistants, holding doors open for people and helping old ladies get their shopping off buses. But one day I really will snap, and if you are the twat with the box of shit music forcing it on me in a public space, then expect pain to rain down upon you, or at least a couple of warning stares, a discontented huff and then a polite request to turn it down.