Julia & The Doogans and Emma Pollock - Paisley Arts Centre

Posted in SHOFT on Friday 22nd October 2010 at 11:49pm

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I'd been to Paisley once before...I'd decided to fly up to Glasgow on a whim, and soon realised that the associated hanging around and the time wasted at the airport quickly made my much loved train journey a very sensible option. However, on the return I'd used the rail-bus link to get back to the airport, just to do a little extra track. I remember descending from the platforms at Gilmour Street to a grey evening and the minibus endlessly circling quiet, menacing estates on the way to the terminal. I'd not taken away the best impression.

Today dawned wet and grey, with some filthy weather predicted. I spent the day in record shops and drinking coffee, using a break in the rain for a wander down Byres Road for old times sake. Booking my ticket back in August, I'd envisaged a golden autumn evening in which to reappraise Paisley - it was pretty clear I wasn't going to get one. So stepping out of Gilmour Street and into the Town, rather than the backstreets, I was quite surprised to see a little bustle of activity around the Square. A new shopping centre was mostly closed for the day, except for a supermarket on the corner. However, I did note the presence of three separate chain betting shops next door to each other - either a bit of neat licensing and planning work, or an indication of the population's overwhelming propensity to gamble. Moreover, I noted some impressive buildings around the town, the red sandstone churches and municipal buildings dominating the area south of the station.

I headed for the Arts Centre, with the intention of having a pint first. I popped into a newsagent on the way to grab a paper, and almost kicked a chap sitting on the step, drinking mouthwash. Here I almost got angry because I didn't want to have to tell these kind of anecdotes about a place which was struggling hard to drag itself through difficult times, but he was minty fresh proof that Paisley wasn't a picnic just now. I found a fairly sensible looking pub, and ordered my beer - noting the barmaid giving me a very strange look. I thanked her and offered my cash and she stopped and fixed me with a glare. It seems my politeness had been mistaken for a chat-up line! I explained I was English which seemed to satisfy her immediate concern, and she noted that the locals only ever said thank-you when they were propositioning her. I eyed the large bouncers who were looking on with interest at our prolonged conversation, and decided against any attempt at witty response.

So, to the Arts Centre. A rather fine old church converted into a permanent arts venue. Stepping inside, a busy little cafe and reception greeted me, and I stopped for a coffee while the Music Industry Panel concluded in the auditorium. This meant a passing nod to DJ Vic Galloway as he popped out for a cigarette - thus completing the set of prominent Scottish radio celebrities for the trip! Sizing up the audience, they were certainly 'arts centre' material. Having been in the top quartile age-wise for the past two nights, I slipped down to the middle here, with some serious looking local 'arts' folk in evidence, sipping gingerly at beakers of red wine and talking about exhibitions in 'town' - which surprisingly, given the culturally diverse and exciting city on their doorstep, appeared to mean London!

First up, and to be totally honest the reason I'd trekked out here tonight, were Julia and The Doogans. I've loved Julia's songs since first hearing 'Collide' and had always hoped to have a chance to see her play. Tonight the band was small, but made a big sound with Jennifer on keyboards and Renata on cello. This conjured a lush, deep sound to counter the clear, high vocals. I don't often use the expression, but it was utterly beautiful to hear. Julia herself appeared nervous but soon got into the swing of things, playing among others 'Diamonds', 'Come Home', 'New York City' and 'Answer' which only exists as a demo as far as I'm aware. She intended to finish with a solo tune in 'Glasgow' - but a guitar tuning issue meant she decided to sing this acappela - a brave move but one which earned her rapturous applause from a tricky crowd.

The headline act tonight was former Delgado Emma Pollock. Two albums into a solo career she has proved that she justly shared the songwriting credit for her former band with some clever, often rather complex pop music. I confess her most recent record The Law of Large Numbers hasn't really clicked with me yet - but in listening to it last weekend to prepare for tonight, I recognised some really fine songs which I wanted to hear live. The set combined these with a handful from the first, rather more direct 'Watch the Fireworks' album. It was fantastic to see how much fun her live band seemed to be having, with multi-instrumentalist (and impressively bearded) Jamie Savage demonstrating a dizzying range of skills in particular. Standouts for me were the stunning 'I Could Be a Saint' and storming 'Adrenaline'. A thoroughly enjoyable set, which got the seemingly rather staid audience whooping and hollering towards the end.

So, back to Gilmour Street in the rain - and finally something of a reprieve for Paisley. The Arts Centre is a gem of a venue, despite it's deeply uncomfortable seating - and that they have the vision to book bands like these is heartening indeed. For my own part, I caught sight of my developing beard in the train window and realised with some horror that I resemble Henry VIII somewhat. Perhaps I should leave that to the professionals too?

Go Lucky, The Lonely Oatcake and Barn Owl - 13th Note, Glasgow

Posted in SHOFT on Thursday 21st October 2010 at 11:51pm

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Its become apparent that age and aging will be the recurring theme of this visit to Glasgow. Turning up the day after my birthday, in the midst of a month which is always turbulent, means that it was never going to be far from the agenda. However, oddly, I seem to be enjoying the first flush of a mid-life crisis which is allowing me to behave cautiously badly. Yes, the late nights take their toll - and the ever present hint of a cold surfaces in the dark mornings - but mostly, I feel strangely free to do what I wish just now.

Hence tonight - originally my 'evening off' of the trip, but populated by a late showing at the 13th Note. It's a fair number of years since I've been downstairs here - and I confess I can't even remember who I saw. Tonight though, things kick off with GoLucky - essentially a one-man show, but helped on this occasion by "Mrs Go Lucky" on vocals and 'rockenspiel' and a colleague on keyboards and violin. Of the three bands on the bill I knew least about them, and possibly left most impressed by them. The tight, cleverly-worded songs were carefully accompanied with enough embellishment to draw out their intricacies. A fragile voice, buoyed when it counted, by his wife with a high, clear and alluring voice of her own. Bonus points to Go Lucky for naming a song "Texaco" - a word I used to obsess over slightly, noting how strange it sounds if you repeat it to yourself over and over. I suppose I had quite a sheltered childhood in some ways...But as for Go Lucky, they are very much worth your time and effort.

Looking around the dungeon which is the downstairs part of the 13th Note, I realised that the only people even close to my age were the parents of one or two of the bands, and some spectators who seemed to be linked to the rather wonderful Glad Cafe project - which recently benefited from a fine compilation CD released by 45 A Side Records featuring one of tonights bands. If this was making me feel old, then the next act surely would. The Lonely Oatcake sound like Hank Williams, had he been reared on Withered Hand and Nirvana. The music is clever, quick-witted and tinged with Ben's sad violin. The lyrics however, are straight from a bedroom or a sixth-form common room. This isn't always bad, and some of the songs, taken in context have an internal charm of their own. However, it gets a little hard to splice the music and the lyric at times, which is a shame - because it's never less than enjoyable to listen to these guys. For me, raised on a diet of Dylan and Neil Young long before I discovered indie music, this is the band I wish I could have been in twenty years ago. The troubling matter is that I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't be in the same band today given half a chance!

Finally, we come to Barn Owl. Despite being 'yet another animal named band', these guys have done incredibly well over the past year or so. Certainly, I've been hearing their names in all sorts of places - which given the huge physical distance between me and the grassroots music scene in Glasgow, is no small feat. It's a stripped down Barn Owl tonight without their organist - who also adds a variety of other tweaks to the sound. However, this didn't change the fact that these gents can write a sterling song! Tight, clever and almost effortlessly, they slipped through a set of occasionally stratospheric pop songs. Dual vocals, with an occasional nod to Pavement, are supported by a really great little rhythm section who hold everthing together. Highlight for me is "When No-one Is Around" which appeared on the aforementioned Glad Cafe CD. It's a complicated song which rewards a good listen. All sheen and pop on the surface, but with hidden depths.

So, I left the 13th Note feeling decidedly old, but also thinking that maybe I could use the excuse of a crisis of confidence to revive my own musical meanderings. I think, perhaps, I need a good night's sleep!

Cristin Mackenzie, Sarah Banjo and Esperi - Macsorleys, Glasgow

Posted in SHOFT on Wednesday 20th October 2010 at 11:30pm

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It's been a long day - and Birmingham seems like another country now. Quite a bit has happened since then in fact. I got up early, and disappeared into the bowels of New Street while it was still dark. I felt pretty grim, the usually October cold barely suppressed, and strangley nervous about the days ahead. I stake a lot on my visits to Glasgow - and sometimes expect too much.

As we emerged from the tunnels though, I knew today was going to be just a little bit exceptional. The day had dawned cold and clear, with perfect blue skies. As we sped north, through familiar territory from last week's jaunt, I managed to settle my unease with coffee, music and the chance to really relax for the first time in a long time. I contemplated the announcement of the Comprehensive Spending Review later with some magnanimity - I'd made my predictions, but wondered if this trip might be a last fling before the belt tightened. All the more reason to make it count in one sense. No pressure then...

So fast-forwarding a little, I find myself in Macsorley's - a corner bar near Central Station which I'd wandered by countless times on my travels. Inside, it's tiny and the interior is like a shrine to traditional Scottish pub traditions - a U-shaped bar, surrounded by woodwork. Just dark enough to feel private, just busy enough to feel comfortable. I was immediately at home. It was interesting to study the customers - a mixture of town centre types, out for an early drink, and those here for the entertainment - a more mixed bunch, lots of knitwear and the inimitable Glasgow style. In the corner, big Jim Gellatly appeared to be conversing with a lost Kray triplet. I felt instantly at home, found my corner and settled in.

First up was Cristin Mackenzie from the Isle of Lewis. His gentle songs were carried above and beyond the bar chatter by way of his colleague who deployed a range of instruments, from whistles to what appeared to be Northumbrian Pipes. Occasionally, his voice too soared high above the background noise, which unfortunately prevented him from being heard fully. A talented young guy with lots of local support in Glasgow. A real pleasure to hear him.

Next up was Sarah Banjo - a recent discovery for me, and someone I really wanted to see perform. She started out, an alluring and unassuming shamble of clothes and glasses at the front of the room, before very suddenly, a high clear voice soared. There was something about her phrasing, her use of repetition and the construction of her songs which made me think of Olympia and K Records - Lois and Mecca Normal. But her use of guitar and banjo brought the music effortlessly back to it's Scottish roots in that rare pool of talent, Anstruther. She also practically refused to stop playing, which is always a good thing in my book. Part way through the set she switched from a quietly strummed guitar to a more robust and eponymous banjo. A remarkable set which lived up to all my expectations.

And so, to Esperi - perhaps the artist I knew most about on tonights bill. His recordings are careful, fragile things which threaten to dissolve like ancient wax cylinders. Live, it's quite remarkable to see how these tiny works of genius are created. He flits from instrument to instrument, setting up a loop from live sounds. The microphones are moved, and impossible toys are produced from his bag. Tiny whistling sea horses, bells and whistles. Over all of this, his quiet voice weaves gentle songs. I'm glad I got to see this because the performance is so much part of the sound. A remarkable talent.

So, as I trudged down Argyle Street in the inevitable rain, I reasoned that today turned out pretty well, despite my reservations. It's good to be back.

For the Avoidance of Doubt

Posted in Railways on Saturday 16th October 2010 at 10:36pm

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There was a strange sense of a calm before the storm today. It's October, and this usually spells trouble in some sense or other - and next week I'm heading off to Glasgow. So this weekend felt a little demob-happy and distracted, what with not thinking about work next week despite plenty of reasons to have my head somewhere near the place. A couple of weeks back I'd planned a jaunt out to the East Coast to cover the diversions via Lincoln and the Joint Great Eastern and Great Northern route. I'd not thought too much about this, and given the mess of confusing information flying around about how these would work, I'd taken a bit of a leap on a service which was booked to avoid Newark and Grantham entirely, though others had suggested that only Grand Central and Hull Trains were making the trip I wanted. First though, I needed to head north on the first train of the day. There was a pleasing nip of winter in the dark morning air as I headed for the station. Time at Temple Meads for breakfast and coffee, and a rather longer wait than usual to catch the 07:30 which would take me all the way to Sheffield. As we headed north into Gloucestershire, the sun appeared and I had a wonderfully lazy, rather sleepy trip north listening to music and watching the country slide by.

66567 passes Doncaster as the clouds close in

At Sheffield, I had a number of options in getting to Doncaster - and plenty of time to do it. However, once I'd managed to find a cup of coffee at the variety of busy outlets on the station, I opted for the next Northern service. The clouds had closed in a bit, but it was still a decent day outside - despite evidence of earlier rain. In Doncaster, with a couple of hours to spare I decided to head into town, using my new-found knowledge to get to a shop. Plagued by crowds of fairly annoying Saturday lunch-time shoppers today, which of course I'd not met last time out. Found myself trying to decide what a native of Doncaster should be called, and plumped for the completely made up 'doncasteroids'. Back to the station to watch trains - with a fair selection of freight passing, along with some light engine manoeuvres relating to the electric services which would need to be dragged south via the diversion. Interestingly, the four locos which operate the First Great Western diagrams had moved up overnight - so I saw some familiar engines trundling about. Around now, the heavens opened and the clouds which had been threatening trouble for a while delivered a brief but heavy storm. Sheltering on the platform, I still wasn't clear at this point what would happen with the 12:54 to Kings Cross. As it turned out, it was operated by a HST, so no drag necessary for us. However, the important part was the route it took of course. Once on board, found a seat rather too near to a group of Japanese men trying to 'drink' yoghurt from a pot loudly and unsuccessfully. Headphones on to block out the noises, I settled in for the long trip south.

43239 sits beside 43299 on the buffers at Kings Cross

We passed the various yards at Doncaster before taking the short chord onto the Lincoln lines at Bessacarr Junction. The journey from here was rather flat and a little dull - but there was some novelty in covering this track on a busy express service rather than the usual local train. As we headed south, the weather improved again and we passed Gainsborough Lea Road in sunshine. Outside Lincoln, we slewed onto the goods lines and passed through the middle road of the station. There was a sizeable crowd out to see the diversions, and at West Holmes Junction the next Class 67 hauled service could be seen waiting to follow us. The train was able to stretch its legs a little here, and we continued at some speed until we began to slow for Sleaford. Now here was the whole point of the trip if I'm honest. If all went to plan, we'd avoid Sleaford station and the strange 's' shaped curves which link this line to the east-west Skegness route. The Sleaford avoider, now only available in the up direction, has been one of those bare red lines in my atlas for years. As we crept forward and the curve to the station slid out to the west of us, I realised that we were actually going to use the avoiding line. Really only the briefest section of line - but new track nonetheless. Settled back into my seat for the rest of the trip to Kings Cross feeling pretty pleased I'd taken a chance on this given how it had worked out.

Once at the 'Cross, I celebrated with a decent coffee before making a slow trip across town to Paddington for the 19:00 - and a much less eventful trip back than on my last use of this train. It had been a successful day, with mostly decent weather and plenty of opportunity to relax and regroup for the week ahead. Annoyingly, I think my nascent cold is getting worse - at possibly the worst possible time. Having said that, I'll be in Glasgow - and right now and escape seems very worthwhile indeed.