"You never finished the chapter but you finished the song..."

I tried reading Stuart Maconie's latest literay release but then some twat in the flat below decided to put on Babyshambles full blast. Now, don't get me wrong, I am more than a little partial to a bit of the Doherty but I cannot read and listen to music at the same time. Instead of concentrating on the words on the page in front of me, I find myself trying to interpret those pouring into my ears instead. So, the book got laid to rest and 6Music turned on to cover any sound of Fuck Forever. The dulcet tones of Steve Lamacq greeted me and presented me with the new problem of how I will never be the female version of the great man. Lammo (along with Blur, obviously) is my hometown hero, being a fellow Colchestarian. At Reading last year, I stood 5 yards away from him and shook a bit. I would've spoken to him but he was deep in conversation whilst taking a break from compering the NME/Radio1 stage. 'Twould have been rude to interpret for the sake of a few bits of advice and me going more embarrasingly fangirly than I would do over any musician. 

This week was mostly spent recovering from Camden Crawl, "dancing" into May (although drinking would be a more accurate description of activities) and losing my Vietnamese cuisine virginity with TEETH!!! 

On Thursday, one of my favourite venues played host to the NME/JD/Adidas House Party with the Rifles, the Rakes and Young Fathers. Except it wasn't in the tiny room most 229 gigs are held in, but in some bigger room next door that felt more like a school hall than a concert venue. Strange. Young Fathers are a Glaswegian hip-hop trio with the best dance moves this side of Metronomy. Dance moves seem to be the in thing at the moment, don't they? No complaints here. Then, unfathomably, The Rakes played. Meaning the Rifles were headlining. THE RIFLES, for gawd's sake. Sub-sub-sub Jam rip offs who no one actually gives a flying fuck about. Headlining. Over the Rakes?! Insanity. Apparently they headlined Brixton academy a few months back too. The world has gone mad. Not that the Rakes are the greatest band to ever grace the Earth but seriously, if you had to choose, you would totally choose them right? Not content with confusing the fuck out of me, Joel from the Rifles then came and stood in front of us and proceeded to suck the face off his girlfriend for THE WHOLE SET. Jesus. Just go put on a Rakes CD and do that in your dressing room and leave me to watch Alan Donohoe's awkward stage movements in peace, yeah? Needless to say, we left after the Rakes had finished and went off to Ally Pally for the turn of the month celebrations. 

Friday, I headed up to Camden to interview aces fuzzy noise purveyors TEETH!!! in a bus shelter on Delancey Street, before joining them for Vietnamese on Parkway. I am not very good at chopsticks. Tofu is good though, and TEETH!!! are excellent company. Sunday, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, was Gaslight time. Anto Dust played a couple of her sombre lullabies before Kieran Leonard enthralled us with one of, if not the, most impassioned and, at times angry sets I have ever seen him play - raw, unadulterated emotion combined with poetic melody that had me on the verge of tears at more than one point. For once, I think this is not because I am somewhat emotionally unstable but because it was truly, astonishingly moving. 

And that is that. I have spent much of this Bank Holiday Monday sleeping, which I suppose is what they're there for. This week holds reunions and instores and training for Glastonbury, which, by the way, is only 6 weeks away. Exciting times ahead. 

"...with your chin on your knees like you belong"

Listening to this week: 

The Maccabees - Wall of Arms

Patrick Wolf - The Bachelor

Bombay Bicycle Club - I had the Blues But I Shook them Loose album sampler

St Vincent - Actor

The Big Pink - Velvet