Thursday July 25th: The Comedy Store

One of the little side-perks of the program I'm in is the option to go on little outings as a group. While I'm usually not jumping at the chance to go on picnics with my RA and the people upstairs I hardly know, the chance to go see some (presumably) good stand-up with my flatmates seemed like a good enough idea.

Some of you might have heard of the original Comedy Store in LA, which is run by Paulie Shore's mom and has seen the lion's share of comedy's big names come through it over the years (John Belushi, George Carlin, Chevy Chase, Dave Chappelle, David Letterman, and Jay Leno to name a few). Apparently, the two aren't affiliated at all except by the name. Nevertheless the London venue is pretty big over here and was one of the first places Mike Myers did standup.

The show that we had tickets for was billed as "The Best in Stand Up," which I correctly took to mean a lineup of virtually unknown but nevertheless entertaining comedians (thankfully they were for the most part actually pretty funny - there are few things that suck more than a really bad comedy show).

Knowing ahead of time that the comedians would do a good bit of poking fun at the audience, and wanting to take part in just a little (but not too much) of this, four out of my five flatmates and I sat about three rows back from the stage. Our other flatmate bravely sat smack dab in the center of the front row with one of the girls from our building. Collectively, as it turns out, we grossly underestimated the attention we would draw as Americans in an almost entirely British audience. But that turned out to be part of the fun.

It took until maybe the third act before we were uncovered. The comedian was doing the usual "Hi, what's your name, where ya from?" along the front row when he came across the two from our program. Of course, filled with national pride (and the evening's drink specials), the rest of us couldn't help cheering enthusiastically for our fellow countrymen. And that's where it all began. So for the first half of the show every comedian threw the apparently obligatory American joke into their routine. There are a few moments from that night that I'm particularly proud of, though. 

The next comedian to come out started off with "Ok, let's pretend we don't know where the Americans are." And proceeded to softly sing, "For the land of the free..." to which we shamelessly and enthusiastically bellowed back "AND THE HOOOOOOME OF THE BRAAAAAAAAAVE!" Judging by his reaction, he had definitely not anticipated a response of that magnitude (he's clearly never witnessed the energy and enthusiasm of a group of drunk American college students singing "Tiny Dancer" or "Piano Man," let alone our national anthem after five weeks on foreign soil). At that point he must have decided there was pretty much nothing he could do to embarrass us, and left us alone for the rest of his routine.

The next comedian also decided to take a shot at us right out of the gate. He started out with, "I hear there's a rowdy group of Americans in the house tonight," to which we obligingly responded with cheering and yelling. He followed up with, "You know, most Americans over here these days just say they're from Canada." To which PJ, my roommate from Kansas City, yelled back, "Fuck THAT!" Not as easily deterred as the one before him, this comedian went on to ask PJ where in the states he was from and made some generic hillbilly jokes before moving on with his routine.

During the intermission all of the Brits around us couldn't stop telling us how we'd really done ourselves in by being so bold, because one of the comedians in the next set (I can't remember his name but they kept talking about one in particular) was really going to have a field day with us and the other comics where probably all back there writing nothing but American jokes. But contrary to expectations, the second half of the show went by with little more than a few lighthearted jabs here and there. I guess they either decided that ripping on the Americans was getting a bit old or that our increasingly drunken unity made them think it was better off to leave us alone.

One last anecdote: 

During the intermission I went up to the bar/kitchen area to get some food (I hadn't eaten dinner yet and I was getting drunk-hungry). As I was squirting ketchup onto my plate one of the bartenders lipped off. "Ey mate, wood ya loik some chips wiv that katchup?" (translation "Hey mate, would you like some fries with that katchup?") To which I replied, "Wow you're a fucking riot, why don't they ever let you up on stage?" I mean c'mon, I'm willing to take it from the professionals but the damn bartender? And such an unoriginal cheap shot?

Song of the Day:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wniGFm_jgRI

Well I guess its about time...

I know that to say I'm a little behind on my blog is a gross understatement. So would be saying that I've been a little tied up since my last entry. But as it turns out I've fallen sick over the past few days and it looks like I'll be spending my last week in London in bed. I'm finally coherent enough to string sentences together, so I guess the one good thing about this is that I'll be able to catch up on my blog before I get home and it never actually gets finished.

Since this is going to be a bit of an undertaking I'm going to do this as a bunch of separate entries, starting from where I left off with the Dead Weather concert and working my way forward.

Song of the Day:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1W2MO916b-U

THE DEAD WEATHER

Last night was The Dead Weather's European debut, which you all know I've been going out of my mind with excitement about. They also released a new single this week, which will be your song of the day. Its my favorite of the songs they've put out so far, and the highlight for me of last night's performance (unfortunately the youtube video is about half the length of the studio track, but you get the idea at least):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhPhV7Z7_3o

As far as the actual show goes, here's the review of it I wrote to submit to the IDS:

The Dead Weather: Third Man’s New Group Not "Just Another Side Project”

London, UK – White Stripes/Raconteurs frontman Jack White took the stage last night with his newest project, The Dead Weather, for the group’s first public performance this side of the Atlantic. While the band played a private show Tuesday night for a small collection of London’s rock n’ roll insiders, last night was the first chance for the average fan to get a glimpse of this blisteringly powerful supergroup. And if the crowd’s reaction is any indication, not one of them left disappointed.

The Dead Weather, consisting of White on drums, Queens of the Stone Age guitarist Dean Firtita, The Kills lead vocalist Alison Mosshart, and White’s Raconteurs bandmate Jack Lawrence on bass, played to a sold out crowd last night at London’s famous HMV Forum.  The Forum, which is roughly the size of Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom, was an unusually intimate venue for a collection of musicians who in their other groups have graced the mammoth stages of Lollapalooza and Bonnaroo.

After a serene opening set by British acoustic duo The Smoke Fairies, The Dead Weather took the stage for a scorching set taken mostly from their debut album Horehound, which is due for release in Europe on July 13^th and in North America on July 14^th. Crowd favourites were the heard-rocking “Hang You From the Heavens” and “Treat Me Like Your Mother,” as well as the eerily groovy “I Cut Like A Buffalo,” all three of which have been released as singles through White’s own record label Third Man Records. But the crowd responded equally well to the rest of the songs, which until Horehound’s release will have only been heard at a handful of live performances.

While The Dead Weather is often referred to as “Jack White’s new band” (the same term thrown around when The Raconteurs debuted in 2006), creative ownership of the group is by no means limited to White. Just as Brendan Benson provides an essential part of The Raconteurs’ sound, each member of The Dead Weather brings something of their own to the table. And with all of this talent, believe me it’s a pretty big table.  As if to prove this point, the group’s first single, “Hang You From the Heavens,” was not one of White’s compositions as might be expected, but was written by Firtita and Mosshart. Likewise, “Treat Me Like Your Mother” was a collaboration between all four bandmates. It wasn’t until this week’s release of “I Cut Like A Buffalo” that we got a song that White has the sole writer’s credit on.

Famous for his stage presence and showmanship, Jack White is not an easy person to steal the spotlight from, even when he’s at the back of the stage behind a drumset. White, who began his musical life as a drummer before picking up the guitar, attacks the drums with the same ferocity that he does his electric guitar. His rhythm is as driving and rock-steady as the drum tracks that helped make The White Stripes a household name, but Jack White’s drumming style is far more elaborate than that of Meg White, his ex-wife and long time bandmate. With lines and fills that are as intricate as they are ferocious, he proves that some people really can do it all.

 

While White still manages to do quite a bit of singing from behind the drumset, it is Mosshart’s voracious, soaring vocals that drive the majority of the songs and tie together White’s drumming with Firtita’s skilled guitar and organ work and Lawrence’s relentless bass lines. Whirling around the stage, growling into the microphone like a woman possessed, she proves a match even for White in terms of stage presence.

Another highlight from the show was the song “Will There Be Enough Water,” a haunting duet between White and Mosshart. For this White let Lawrence sit behind the drumset, picking up his white Gretsch Jupiter Thunderbird (also featured in the music video for “Another Way to Die,” White’s collaboration with Alicia Keys for the film Quantum of Solace) to play slide guitar.

The only disappointing thing about this show was that it eventually ended. Clocking in at just over an hour, this was still an impressive amount of material for a group that didn’t even exist at the beginning of the year. And despite a slightly shorter playing time, the “all killer no filler” approach taken by The Dead Weather is much preferable to a longer show with less energy and refinement. The band’s next show will be this Monday in Paris, after which they will return to the US to kick off a North American tour with two nights at Washington D.C.’s 9:30 Club.  A full tour schedule can be found on the band’s website, www.thedeadweather.com.

 

- SV 

STONEHENGE

Wow. I don't even know where to begin with this one. So I guess the begging would be a good start...

After carefully considering our game plan for the evening/morning and learning two important new pieces of information (1. that they weren't letting people in to Stonehenge until 10:00 PM and 2. that we were only allowed to bring two cans of beer per person with us), we made some slight changes to the initial itinerary. Instead of leaving at 8:00 we decided to take the last train to Salisbury (the nearest train station to Stonehenge), which left London at 10:27. We used the extra time to do a power hour and fill several large water bottles with very strong screwdrivers for the train ride.

We got to the train station 20 minutes before our train was supposed to leave. We promptly spent about 18 minutes trying unsuccessfully to obtain tickets via the automatic ticket machines, which all bore an overwhelming prejudice against our American credit cards. Hearing the conductor yell, "Last call, all aboard!" and not willing to miss our once-in-a-lifetime trip, we sprinted to the platform and boarded the train without tickets. It wasn't until we were safely on the train and it had gotten up to full speed that we started to worry about what we were going to say to the conductor when he came by to check everyone's tickets. Had we not been drinking so much before hand we probably would have considered this topic earlier, but as it is its probably best we didn't over think this one. Luckily the conductor was very understanding and let us pay cash for our tickets on board (we even got a group discount for having for people that we wouldn't have gotten from the ticket machines). After that the four of us settled in to play some drinking games and finish our screwdrivers.

When we got to Salisbury we took a bus for another 20 minutes to get to Stonehenge. On this bus ride we met some pretty interesting characters. A British hippy girl who I'm pretty sure was on some sort of hallucinogens managed to convince one of my flatmates to let her draw a butterfly on his cheek in glittery paint. Without knowing my flatmate its difficult to convey how funny this was, but let's just say he's up there with Mike Tyson and Dick Cheney at the top of the list of people I'd never expect to let a tripping girl draw on their face with glitter.

While this was happening I learned an important lesson about judging people by their appearance. I struck up a conversation with a guy sitting next to me who looked like he would be an interesting and nice guy. He turned out to be kind of an asshole. He claimed to be American, but said he "wasn't really American anymore" because he had been living abroad for the last ten years or so. That was fine, except he was more of a dick to me about my being American than any of the europeans I've met while I've been here. He went on to tell me about how he was stationed in Okinawa while he was in the Marines, but I found this story a little hard to believe considering the picture he showed me that was allegedly him in uniform was of a white guy with a little rim of blonde hair poking out from under his dress-hat, and the guy sitting in front of me was black with three-foot-long dreadlocks. I was glad to get off that bus when we finally arrived at Stonehenge.

Once the bus dropped us off we had about fifteen minutes of walking through fields before we got to the actual stones. This was pretty exciting because we could hear drums and the sound of revelry coming from the top of the hill as we completed this final stage of our journey. I was also pretty interested to see how close they were going to let us get to the actual site itself. I knew ahead of time that they fenced off the stones sometime in the late 70s and that tour groups were forced to gaze in wonderment at this awesome, mysterious structure through chain link from about a hundred yards off. What I didn't know was that the summer solstice is one of the four times a year that people are actually allowed all the way up to and INSIDE the circle of stones. According to news reports, this year's celebration drew a record-setting 36,000 people.

After politely demonstrating to the security guards that I was carrying only the allowed four cans of beer, we made our way through the crowd up to the stones. Maybe it was our slightly drunken but very awe-inspired determination, but before we knew it we had made our way right into the heart of the crowd.

In the middle of the stones we met a very interesting individual that on first sight I could only assume to be a wizard. He had long, unkempt grey hair down to about his elbows and a pointed beard that ended at the same place as his hair. He was also wearing robes, a hooded cape, and carried a tall wooden staff. Naturally, I engaged him in conversation at the first opportunity. His name was Mark, and as it turned out he was not a wizard, but a devotee to the druid religion (and an incredibly nice guy). He was born on a farm a few miles away from Stonehenge and has attended the solstice celebrations his entire life, with the exception of the fifteen years from 1985-2000 that the site was closed on the solstice following a violent clash between visitors and police in 1985.

At this point we were wedged between two of the fallen stones from the monument, one of which Mark was sitting on. I asked him if it would be alright if I stood up on the other (there were already lots of other people doing so, but I figured its his religion so he'd know best). He paused contemplatively for a while and responded that it would be alright, as long as I did so "with respect in my heart." I figured I could get on board with that sentiment, so I climbed up to get a better view of the celebration. This is the sight that greeted me:

You would think that a loud, noisey, crowd that looked more like it belonged at a music festival than at one of the world's most ancient landmarks - combined with all of the drinking and a strong smell of something "magical" burning nearby - would have taken away some of the sense of awe and wonderment I was feeling. But this absolutely was not the case. Throughout the entire night I somehow could never quite shake the feeling of amazement that I was actually standing in the middle of Stonehenge.

Earlier today I got online and found an aerial view of Stonehenge, from which I was able to figure out where the rock was that we stood on all night (its marked with the red dot):

While up on the rock I met Mark's son, Tim. He was dressed normally, but I couldn't help but notice the irony that he shares a name with the wizard from Montey Python and the Holy Grail. When I told him, "You're Mark's son? Dude your dad is so cool!" He just sort of quizzically shrugged his shoulders and said, "Umm, yeah I guess..." - pretty much the same reaction I would probably have if my dad was out in public dressed like Gandalf.

One of the really cool things about Stonehenge is that on the solstice the sun rises directly through the middle of the three openings in the pillars from the picture above (not the one with the red dot, the one before it). Sadly, there was enough light cloud cover that we couldn't really see the sun come up as a big circle in the sky. But witnessing the dawn break over the crowd of people who stood their together all night was still a remarkable experience.

Even when it was undeniably morning, we all kept our vigil for as long as we could.

Part of me wanted to hold out until most of the crowd had wandered off so I could have as close to a quiet moment as I could hope for, but my flatmates were all getting tired and after a night spent on my feet rather than sleeping I didn't really trust myself to make it back home on my own if I stayed behind. Somehow, though, despite standing on one of the stones, occasionally having to defend my spot, for a little over seven hours, I actually felt pretty chipper - albeit a little brain-dead. This is evidenced by my very enthusiastic but somewhat dopey pose for this final picture:

The rest of the story is not really that interesting. It involves a lot of unnecessary walking trying to find our bus back to the train station (we received bad directions on several occasions from well-meaning but poorly informed security staff), sleeping on the train and almost missing our stop back in London, getting home, taking a most blissful shower, and finally going to bed at about 11:30 am.

I know that this was a really long post (sorry, but it was a really long story), so congratulations to those of you who made it to the end with me. Here's your song of the day (I hope the significance is obvious):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4oUJUCDX1s

A Long Overdue Update / Proof That Karma Is Real

So I've got about a week's worth of activities to tell all of you about. This past week has been crazy busy, so I've been utterly neglecting my blog, for which I apologize.

First of all, The Anomalies' show last Friday was absolutely amazing. They were headlining an event with four other groups so they only got to play one set, but it was a blast. As you all know I've been talking up their debut album quite a bit, but I'm thrilled to say that their live act absolutely stands up to the test, probably even surpasses their studio stuff. I hope they get big enough that we can all go see them together in the states someday. This show was also sweet because I got absolutely obliterated with my boss. Apparently the last American intern they had wasn't very social, and didn't go out with the guys from the office. So I was kind of a surprise for them... 

I took a bunch of pictures at the show. The lighting made them come out all crazy, which is cool but not very high-quality:

The rest of this week has been full of crazy amounts of work. Glastonbury, the UK's biggest music festival, is next weekend. We've got about a dozen or so acts from our label playing, so we've been working our asses off getting the promotional material ready and making sure everything else is in order. 

I was supposed to take Friday off to go to Ireland with my flatmates this weekend, but they decided to bail at the last minute. I could've easily still not gone in to work, but knowing how busy we've been and being the good guy that I am, I went in anyway. At the end of the day I was helping my boss go through an empty office and we came across a box of cool shit he let me take my pick of to take home. I got a vinyl copy of The BPA album I've been raving to all of you about, a bunch of 7" singles, a signed copy of Fat Boy Slim's greatest hits album, and a poster-sized print of some original Fatboy Slim album artwork, signed by him and by the design artist. Yesterday absolutely reaffirmed my belief that Karma is totally real.

Today we got up and went to the London Museum of Natural History. We saw a bunch of really sweet dinosaur bones. My flatmates got bored really quickly but i enjoyed it. I guess I'm just a nerd like that...

Anyway tonight we're going to Stonehenge for the celebration of the summer solstice. Apparently its a giant raging party that starts at 8PM and ends at sunrise, when the solstice officially begins. Stonehenge is about a 45 minute train ride out of London. We're leaving on a train at 8:00 tonight and coming back on the first train tomorrow morning. I'm sure I'll have some cool shit from tonight to write about, so stay tuned.

The 'song of the day" is in honor of my reaffirming experience yesterday.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqP3wT5lpa4

Buddhists and MTV Awards

This'll be a short post, most of the exciting stuff starts tonight but I've neglected my blog for a few days so I feel like an entry is in order.

A quick update on the tube strike: It was Fucking Awful. I spent 3 1/2 hours on a bus in traffic jams trying to get to a class it normally takes me 30 min to get to by tube. And I found out that the layoffs they were all upset about were actually 2 people, both of which were doing the exact same job as someone else.

Luckily the strike ended yesterday at 7 PM. So after work everybody from the office went out to the pub around the corner to kill time until the tubes started working. It turned into a few of us staying there until 10:30 (or "half-ten" as they say over here). I'm starting to get to know the guys I work with pretty well, and I'm having a blast with them. On the tube home, I was one of only two passengers in my car. Naturally, I fell into conversation with the other fellow, who happened to be an exiled Tibetan Buddhist (not a monk, but a lay buddhist). Over the roughly 30 minute ride, we had a very profound philosophical conversation. I left with some interesting thoughts to ponder for the rest of the night, and I believe he left having had many of his preconceived notions of Americans.

Work this week has been pretty fun. I've been working on licensing for a Fatboy Slim DVD from a couple years ago that's getting released in Japan. While I was trying to find the owner of the publishing rights for a particularly troublesome sample, one of my coworkers sauntered over with Fatboy Slim's MTV award for the video for "Weapon of Choice." If any of you haven't seen it, its pretty awesome (it stars Christopher Walken) and since it's today's "song of the day," you can check it out here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgCvnGc5Twk

Of course I couldn't resist getting my picture taken with it (eat your heart out, Jay):

I'm off to see The Anomalies play tonight, which I'm super psyched about, so I'll have to tell you all about it tomorrow...

Striking Subway Workers and The World's End

7:00 PM today marked the start of a 48-hour strike by the workers who operate the tube (London's subway system). There are about 7.5 million people living in the Greater London area, the overwhelming majority of which rely on public transportation to get to work, run necessary errands, and go out socially. So in other words, we're all pretty much fucked until Thursday night when the tube starts running again. The city's going to pretty much shut down.

From reading the papers, online news, and talking to my coworkers, this is the situation in a nutshell:

On one side of the coin, the tube workers union is very upset because there have been significant layoffs, benefit cuts, and they aren't going to get a raise they really want. Obviously these are less than enjoyable circumstances, which we all can sympathize with, because people all over the world are going through the same thing. But on the other side of the coin, one of my coworkers explained to me today (and keep in mind, I work at a RECORD LABEL - my coworkers are by no means the most conservative Londoners you could meet) that the tube workers are paid well above what other workers of similar skill level are paid, receive borderline extravagant benefits (including government-provided cell phones and in some cases cars - which seemed more than a little ironic to me), and guaranteed raises to keep pace with inflation. Overall its a complex issue, but myself being completely removed from the dispute between tube workers and the local government, its absolutely clear to me that the working population of London as a whole is being hurt at a time when plenty of them are already struggling in a very difficult economic environment. And any way you look at it that doesn't seem right. Also, I can't help but observe that for most people not showing up for work for two days will get you fired, not get you a raise.

On a more selfish note, I'm also pretty upset that this strike is preventing me from returning to wax philosophical about music with the bartenders at a really, really awesome bar I found last night. Its called The World's End:

The World's End is in Camden, a really trendy borough of London that, according to one of the less open-minded girls in my program, "Is full of weird people." Based on that statement, I (very accurately) concluded that this would be a great place to go for good music, and would be populated by a fair number of people that I would get along with quite nicely. Some quick internet research informed me that Camden is home to a number of the most venerable live music venues in London, such as The Barfly and the Roundhouse - two bars where bands such as Blur and Oasis cut their teeth before making it big.

Since it was a Monday night, there weren't any bands playing at The World's End last night, but the music playing over the PA was killer. It was the sort of hard-hitting indie punk that proves that The Clash and The Sex Pistols are very much still an influence in the rock scene over here, while at the same time showcasing the amazing inventiveness of the up-and-coming artists, mixing in influences from electronica, hip-hop, and plenty of things I couldn't put a name on if I tried. I had a great, long conversation with the bartenders, during which I made them write down the names of every band that played on the PA while I was there. I then wrote down the name of my newest band obsession (The Anomalies, which you've all heard me rave about in previous posts) for them, in order to spread some love and good musical karma.

I'm pissed that this tube strike is preventing me from going back tonight and seeing if those bartenders did their musical homework, but I'll settle for leaving all of you with the tale of another traveler who made the journey to the World's End as your "song of the day."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BGlFsf9DM8&feature=related

ABBEY ROAD ABBEY ROAD ABBEY ROAD!

What I thought was going to turn into an uneventful day yesterday took a very nice surprise twist. My flatmates came in as I was playing guitar and announced that we were going to go to Abbey Road. As you can imagine this was the rough equivalent of telling a five year old he is about to take a trip to the North Pole.

Much to my surprise, neither the studio itself nor the famed crosswalk is particularly well marked. We actually walked past it and had to double back after getting proper directions from a local. Aside from its historical significance, Abbey Road is a working recording studio in a relatively quite London neighborhood. There was a light but steady trickle of fans taking pictures walking across the street, but it was not the commercialized tourist-trap I expected. And that's absolutely the way I think it should be.

Of course I posed for the obligatory picture crossing the street with my fatmates (I'll have to post that later because it was on somebody else's camera). I also got a picture crossing by myself:

The idea is to go back three more times, dressed like a different Beatle from the album cover each time and compile them together in photoshop. We'll see if I can actually pull it off (I was George yesterday, I don't have a denim jacket so the one I'm wearing will have to do). As you can see, getting the straight-on angle like the album cover is difficult given that it is actually a pretty busy road and, not being The Beatles, we lacked the ability to block off traffic for our photo shoot.

We also took some pictures outside the studio itself, which is surrounded by a gated wall littered with the loving graffiti of fellow pilgrims to this Mecca of rock n' roll.

Emboldened by this experience, I ventured inside the gate and had one of my flatmates take a picture of me in the doorway.

I wasn't sure exactly how far people who aren't doing legitimate business in the studio are allowed to go, but I was soon to find out. After these pictures I looked into the window next to the door and saw someone sitting at a reception desk. For some reason I thought, "well hell, he looks like a nice fellow, I might as well see how far I can take this." I tried the outermost door, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. I tried the inner door leading into the lobby, sure that it would be locked. It wasn't.

I now stood, officially within the walls of Abbey Road, facing the enormous marble reception desk with "Abbey Road Studios" in giant silver letters on the wall behind it and the slightly confused-looking but very polite Indian receptionist staring at me. At this point I was pretty much at a loss for something to say, not having expected to get nearly this far. So, already knowing fully well the answer, I sheepishly asked, "Excuse me, this is probably a silly question, but do you guys offer tours of the studio?" To which he replied in a very prim and proper British accent, "We do not. This is actually a working studio and we could not have visitors disturbing our sessions." (translation: "We do not. This is actually a working studio and we could not have visitors disturbing our sessions." - he spoke impeccable English, so all attempts I made to imitate his accent in type just did not do him justice). 

He went on to explain that he was quite surprised that I had made it as far as I did. The front doors were supposed to be locked at all times (it was part of his job to buzz people in), and the general public was never allowed beyond the front steps. He said he probably would have had to call the police had I not been so polite in my trespassing. I apologized profusely, explaining that I worked in a recording studio in the states and that as far as I was concerned I had just wandered into the Pope's private chambers in the Vatican. He said it was a slow day and kindly let me gaze around in wonderment for a while longer, and I left before wearing out my welcome. 

I leave you now with a few more pictures from my adventure, and for the "song of the day" the medley that ends The Beatles' iconic final album.

Music Music, Everywhere!

I've been working 8-hour days this week, so I haven't had the chance to do much sight-seeing. But work has been a blast, so that's what I'm going to write about today for you, my lovely readers. 

I've graduated from processing licensing requests and royalty statements to researching record labels and publishers we might want to work with overseas and putting together information on our artists to send to them. Because a huge part of what we do here is dance/electronica/dj type music (not surprising considering the Fatboy Slim connection, but a little outside my musical area of expertise) I decided yesterday that I need to step up my game and familiarize myself more with this genre. I mentioned this to one of my coworkers, thinking that he would refer me to a few key albums I could go to the store and buy or a few singles I could find on iTunes, or if I was really lucky he would toss me a free copy of a sampler CD or something. What actually happened was completely unexpected: I was handed a stack of 19 CDs to whet my appetite with. I'm absolutely in love with the fact that working for a record label = shitloads of free music.

So as I'm writing this I'm sitting at my computer loading a stack of CDs marked "Promo Only" into my iTunes. I have until Monday to familiarize myself with a collection of music that would probably take me about that long to listen to if I did nothing else the whole weekend. I've got a tough life, don't I?

So for your enjoyment, and because I missed a few posts and owe you extra "songs of the day,"

I've selected some of the tastier tracks out of what I've been able to sort through so far:

The BPA (Brighton Port Authority) - He's Frank (Slight Return) featuring Iggy Pop

and specially for Geoff:

The BPA - Toe Jam featuring Dizzee Rascal and David Byrne

Both From the Album: I Think We're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat

- The BPA and The Mighty Dub Katz are two of Fatboy Slim's musical alter-egos that he uses to release music that he does that isn't commercial enough for his major label to release. The Iggy Pop tune is a killer song and I absolutely fucking love both these music videos.

The Anomalies - Kid Riot

From the Album: Free Soup Social

- This is a really cool group that combines indie rock, hip-hop and electronic music in a really original way. I wasn't able to find a Youtube link for this one but I'll work on it. Its worth a dollar to buy on iTunes though if I've described it compellingly enough.

Update: So this album is still really new and Kid Riot isn't on Youtube, but the current single from Free Soup Social is. Its called Old School. I personally like Kid Riot soooooo much better, but at least there's soemthing for you to listen to now.

Cornershop - Brimful of Asha (Norman Cook Remix)

- Cornershop were a British indie rock group in the early 90s who were critically acclaimed for the hybrid of British rock and musical influences from India. They were contemporaries of British indie rock legend Morrissey. This song isn't affiliated with our label as far as I know but the original version was made wildly popular by the Fatboy Slim remix I linked above.

The Dead Weather In London!

I just discovered today that The Dead Weather, Jack White's newest band, will be playing in London on June 24th! The new band consists of The Kills lead vocalist Alison Mosshart, Queens of the Stone Age guitarist Dean Fertita, The Raconteurs bassist Jack Lawrence, and Jack White on drums. Rolling Stone has a pretty good article explaining the band's origins, although they are incorrect about the release date of the band's debut album, Horehound (July 13th in Europe and July 14th in the US).

The London show will be their second ever live performance, and their first in Europe. Its already sold out but I found some tickets on ebay for just barely over the face value. Most of you are probably familiar with my (borderline unhealthy) fascination with everything involving Jack White, so you know I'll be attending this show come hell or high water. During the last week in July they're also doing two nights at the Vic in Chicago and one in Nashville, which I'm also game to go to if anyone is interested.

So far there are three songs off of Horehound floating about the internet, all of which can be found in one form or another on youtube: "Hang You From the Heavens", "Are Friends Electric?", and "Treat Me Like Your Mother". Today's Song of the Day is my favorite of the three.

Fatboy Slim's Manager, Pear Cider, and Kinky British Newspapers

So today I met Fatboy Slim's manager, Gary Blackburn. Actually I met him yesterday, but I didn't know who he was. When I cautiously wandered into an office full of T-shirt and jeans-clad Englishmen (while I myself was dressed to the nines in my best suit and tie and brand new dress shoes and feeling incredibly awkward and out of place), he was the first person I ran into. Immediately noticing his very puzzled expression (he probably thought I was about to try to fucking  sell him something), I timidly asked him for my immediate boss, Stephen Flannery (who I was meeting for my interview/the incredibly short first day of work that you guys have already read about). When I came back today (less conspicuously dressed) Stephen properly introduced me saying, "Gary this is Steve, our new American intern." I shook his hand as he smiled, "You were the fellow in the suit yesterday, weren't you? I wish I could get everybody around here to dress like that." When he left Stephen said to me, "That's Gary, he's The Boss." Now I knew that I hadn't just shaken the hand of Bruce Springsteen, but it wasn't until about an hour later when I was processing a licensing agreement and royalty statement for a Fatboy Slim song (some record label in Japan or something wanted to use it on a  dancehall compilation album) that it dawned on me who this man probably was. A quick google search when I got home confirmed my suspicions.

A note for my drinking buddies:

As I'm writing this, I'm currently sipping on a tasty glass of pear cider. Probably the best tasting fruit-based alcoholic beverage I've ever encountered. I know back home we have Woodchuck and those other alcoholic apple ciders, but this stuff is the real deal. Its made in Ireland and as far as I can tell they just take pears and brew them like beer. Delicious.

And finally some "deep cultural observations" :

So I was waiting for the tube today and decided to buy a newspaper. I had a bunch of small change in my pocket and wanted something to read on the trip to work. I scanned the front page headlines and then flipped to the first inside page. Much to my amazement, this is what greeted me:

Except the actual picture printed in the paper wasn't nearly as patriotic. Completely taken aback, I stopped the nearest British guy I could find and simply stammered, "Is this normal?" To which he replied in a cheerful cockney accent, "Ov cauwse!  Effery day on page free!" (translation: "Of course! Every day on page three!") Apparently over here everybody starts their day with a nice look at a topless chick in order to brace themselves for the doom-and-gloom that awaits them deeper in the newspaper. What made this even stranger was the article on the page opposite of it:

Which, just my luck, I actually wanted to read. I don't know who it was more awkward for, me or the incredibly proper-looking middle-age English lady sitting next to me the entire train ride to work.

I Work In A Palace. Literally. And I Have A New Guitar.

Don't get too excited though, what I mean by literally is that technically it is a palace. It is not actually a plush castle, but it was where the Bishops of London historically lived. Apparently the nobles who were put in charge of keeping it up went bankrupt and had to sell it to the commonwealth. Now the palace grounds are a public park, which comprises my entire walk from the tube (subway) station to work, and the actual palace is mostly a museum. One of the less historically significant parts was also converted into an office suite, which now houses my current place of employment. 

Technically I work for three different companies: Anglo Management, Southern Fried Records, and Asongs Publishing. I say technically because they are all more or less staffed by the same people and share the same artists. One of whom is a charming individual by the name of Norman Cook, better know by his stage name - Fatboy Slim. No, I didn't meet him today unfortunately. But if I do you'll absolutely hear about it (also, I'm not 100% certain but I think he and his manager own all three companies). The reason there are three different companies has to do with legal technicalities and the fact that management companies, record labels, and publishing companies serve three different functions in the music business.

So my "first day of work" didn't really turn out to be a "day of work". I came in, talked to my new boss for a little while about what I'm studying and how I've like London so far, ect. After about fifteen or twenty minutes of pleasantries and discussing my work schedule, my boss asked, "So when would you like to start?" To which I somewhat quizzically replied, "Today?" He went on to explain that the entire office had been out of town all last week and they needed a day to settle back in before I could start. So I'm going back tomorrow morning to have my real "first day." As I was leaving I approvingly noted a poster of The Strokes' album "Room on Fire" hanging by the door. In honor of this, our Song of the Day today is one of my favorite tracks from that album. Actually, I had such a good day I'll give you two. Why the fuck not.

Before I left, I asked my boss for the name of a good guitar shop (I found out when I was packing to leave the states that it would actually cost less to buy a new guitar over here than to pay to take my guitar on the plane, even as a check bag). He did me one better and directed me to an entire street of literally nothing but guitar shops (and one really awesome bar/music club at the very end called The Twelve Bar Cafe). So I spent the rest of my "first day of work" drooling over absurdly expensive vintage guitars and shopping for one that I could actually afford. I was surprised to find that except for really expensive guitars like Martins and Taylors (which are imported from the states) and even more expensive vintage Gibsons and Fenders, they don't have the same brands over here. I also quickly discovered that the market for used instruments here is almost nonexistent (except, again, for high-value vintage stuff) and my original plan to buy a guitar and re-sell it at the end of the summer would have lost me about $150. So I ended up buying a nice little thin-body acoustic/electric that plays well and will at least serve a different function than any of the guitars I have back home.

Overall a sweet day! For me at least, sorry if this was a boring entry for the non-guitarists out there. Hopefully you'll enjoy the pictures?

My walk to work every morning;

Palace grounds and the adjacent church:

Denmark Street - aka Musician's Paradise:

Where I found my new guitar (in the bigger version of this pic you can actually see it behind the white sign in the front window):

A special nod to Geoff - "The Bass Cellar":

I had to stop in here to have a Jack Daniel's on the rocks while I pondered which guitar to get:

The new guitar:

Enjoying the new purchase:

Back By Popular Demand

So I didn't realize anyone was really reading this until Geoff harassed me via facebook for more blog entries. This weekend was sort of a "settling in" weekend, so I hadn't put much thought into what I was going to write but here goes:

After my blog entry Friday we went out and saw a bunch of the sites in central London (Big Ben, Parliament, the River Thames, ect). I seriously felt like I was in the middle of the Disney cartoon Peter Pan. It was amazing. When I first got here, I have to admit I was just a little disappointed. We live in a sleepy, well-to-do residential  borough called Earl's Court, and at first it seemed nothing like what I expected the city of Oscar Wilde, Winston Churchill, and Mick Jagger to be. But when we got down town all I could think was "Damn, I'm actually here!" Pictures at the end of this entry.

I've only gotten a little taste of the nightlife so far, but the way they go about it here is completely different. The pubs, which are basically the rough equivalent of American bars, all close between 11 PM and midnight. Typically people go out to the pubs right after work (sometimes without even going home first) or right after an early dinner. A lot of them drink there heavily and then go home when they close, get a good night's sleep before work, and do it all again the next day. After midnight your only choice for a quiet drink is to go back to your flat and booze in the privacy of your own home. The late-night scene is pretty much all dance clubs where - this may surprise you - they play almost exclusively popular American R&B and Hip Hop (some of which was a little dated). If I think through the alcohol-induced haze, when we went out on my birthday I vaguely remember hearing the "Apple Bottom Jeans" song, "Poker Face," and "Gasolina." I also think I literally poked someone in the face during "Poker Face" and got yelled at by the bouncer for it.

I haven't found any good places for live music yet, but I'm sure I will soon enough. I start work tomorrow (I'm pretty excited/nervous), and I'm hoping some of my co-workers can point me in the right direction. We didn't go out Friday because our graduate resident (basically a glorified RA) was out of town so we threw a raging party at our flat with all of the other American students from the other houses, and I came home last night after the pubs closed because, quite frankly, I was beat (or "knackered" as they say here) from all of this week's craziness.

A soccer hooligan update for Jay:

I actually met a genuine soccer hooligan last night while coming back from the pubs. Apparently there are about four different soccer championships that all of the English teams here play in. In addition to the one Barcelona beat Manchester United for the other night, yesterday the Chelsea Football Club (CFC) won the FA Cup. We live in the borough immediately adjacent to Chelsea, so needless to say it was pretty crazy. I was patiently waiting in line for some drunken Burger King at a little past midnight when an incredibly intoxicated man with a shaved head, full-sleeve tattoos, and a Chelsea jersey walked in and loudly inquired "Whot tha fowk? Where ahhw awwl tha Chelwsea fans?" (Translation: "What the fuck? Where are all the Chelsea fans?"). Not wanting to disappoint him, and being the friendly bloke that I am after I've had a few drinks, I joyously yelled "Ayy-O! Chelsea!" and gave him a double high-five. We then enthusiastically discussed the various merits and general superiority of the Chelsea Football Club for about twenty-five minutes. As most of you probably know, I know absolutely nothing about sports in general, let alone the English Football Championships. I have, however, decided that I am now a Chelsea Football fan for life. This was made all the more interesting by the fact that we took a tour of the Chelsea stadium today, and our tour guide told us that Chelsea is infamous for having particularly nasty football hooligans. Basically, if I had been wearing a Manchester jersey that night my new friend probably would have ripped my face off with his teeth.

Soccer, Stabbings, and Cigarettes

I don't know how many people back home were following the soccer finals that just finished, but as you probably know, people over here get pretty crazy about that stuff. And apparently this craziness extends to any soccer fans this side of the Atlantic:

Angry Manchester United Fan Kills Four Barcelona Supporters After Wednesday's Loss

Sorry, Jay, I didn't get in any pub brawls with soccer hooligans, but I figured this was just as crazy.

This brings up another interesting topic. In my class yesterday we learned that 50-some people were killed by stabbing in  the entire UK last year. The British find this an appalling and unacceptable amount of violence, and are clamoring that their lawmakers do something about it.  - It just sounded like a rough weekend in Chicago to me.

Its also interesting to me that police do not routinely carry weapons here. Apparently there are special units trained to use firearms in case of extreme situations such as terrorist attacks, but that's it. Our professor said the idea is that if the police arm themselves then so will the crooks.

Finally, this one's for you, Dan and Joey:

When I came home wasted from the clubs on my birthday Tuesday night/ Wednesday morning, I bought the first pack of cigarettes I've purchased in I don't even know how long. I have no idea why I did it, except that I was drunk. By looking at the pack in the morning it looks like I smoked one on the walk back from the store, and I'll probably give the rest away. Another thing I noticed in the morning are these incredibly, incredibly ominous labels they put on packs here. Do they have shit like this in China, Dan? Or do they even let you smoke cigarettes over there?

Better Late Than Never

So I should've started this blog a few days ago, since I've probably already forgotten most of the "insightful" observations I came up with during my first few days here. But I promise to do my best to make this interesting, and for that reason I've only sent the link to this blog to a select group of people so I don't have to censor it or leave anything out.

In the interest of keeping things exciting I'm going to try to include fun stuff like a "song of the day" along with my deep cultural observations. I'm open to other suggestions as well, cus I really hope I can get a few people to read this...