Thursday 5 February 2009
Bluenote NYC 6th Jan 2009
Assortment of sketches from a Bill Frisell, Ron Carter, Paul Motian gig at the Bluenote in New York & an assortment of takes on a rather 'excitable' punter who was eventually removed... 'don't tell ME what the fucking Bluenote is all about!' - priceless!
(Pity we got possibly the worst service in New York city @ the Bluenote!)
Saturday 31 January 2009
Guardian All Ears 31st January
Drawing this brought back memories of 'The Tin Drum' by Günther Grass where the mother, traumatised by a fishing incident involving a horses head & numerous eels, gorges herself on fish for two weeks & dies.
As a bit of a fish-phobic this has always struck me as a distinctly unpleasant mode of death - I'm hoping to be crushed & killed instantly by a falling piano (which I have failed to observe because it's 6 in the morning, I'm 90 years old & emerging from a really stunning party...
(Article by Michael Holden)
I was having breakfast in a café next to a couple of men who were eating together but reading quietly from separate newspapers until one of them begun unprompted to assess the pitfalls of cohabitation.
Man 1 (putting down his paper and looking at his food - a kipper) “You can argue about anything if you’re not careful.”
Man 2 (thinking he’d missed something) “Eh?”
Man 1 “At home, it’s a minefield, right?. The other day I saw a programme about the Elizabethans, it said the used to eat more fish than we do. So I said to the wife about this and she says, “Well I eat plenty of fish,” as though it was sort of an accusation, something she had to defend herself from-eating less fish than an Elzabethan.”
Man 2 “Yeah, well. Women can be like that.”
Man 1 (continuing the aquatic theme) “Yeah but I took that bait though. I’ve started having a go.”
Man 2 (confused) “About what?”
Man 1 “About who eats more fish. I said look I’ll have a kipper, like I am now, or I’ll have a roll mop, we might have fish and chips for tea.”
Man 2 “I don’t like a roll mop.”
Man 1 (ignoring him) “The point is I (+I)definitely(-I) eat more fish than her. No question. But then she says, ‘Oh I have a bit of tuna for lunch sometimes, when you’re out.’ I said ‘when am I out? I’m in all fucking day!’ Which to be fair is part of the problem-but anyway, I said, ‘are you telling me you’re putting away tuna on the sly?’ And she’s taken that the wrong way, so then it’s all about her and her weight!”
Man 2 (looking at his empty plate) “Oh dear.”
Man 1 “So then it was a proper issue, and, this I think is what you might say was ironic, I ended up taking her out for dinner.”
Man 2 “Ridiculous innit?”
Man 1 (Unrepentant) Yeah, well. She started it.
Monday 26 January 2009
Saturday 24 January 2009
Guardian All Ears 24th January
(Article by Michael Holden)
I was sitting in hospital, early for the earliest appointment of the day, when a couple came in-an elderly looking woman and younger man-who had taken the audacious move of turning up exactly on time and then paused for a moment to take in the queue of sickly swots that had already assembled. I’ve seen people flip out before at this but their credit they did nothing more than frown and check that they were indeed on schedule.
Woman (presumably the patient) “What’s the time?”
Man (possibly her son) “Nine. Bang on.”
He helped the woman to a seat where she sat panting, seemingly exhausted by the act of sitting down.
Man: “You want anything?”
Woman: (staring into space) “No.”
Man: “Want tea?”
Woman: “No.”
Man: (evidently pursuing the protocols of a familiar routine) “Coffee?”
Woman: “No.”
Man: “No hot drink?”
Woman: “No.”
Man: “Want a cold drink?”
Woman: “ No.”
Man: “Orange?”
Woman: “No.”
Man: “Plain water.”
Woman: “Yeah.”
Man: “Want something to eat?”
Woman: “No.”
Man: “A roll?”
Woman: No:
Man: “Crisps?”
Woman: (wildly affirmative) “Crisps! Plain!”
As he walked away she belched louder than anyone I’ve ever heard at which he turned back and smiled at her as if to say, “that’s my girl.”
Saturday 17 January 2009
Guardian All Ears 17th January
This drawing is based very strongly on sketches I made of a guy who I saw kicked out of the Blue Note club in New York a couple of weeks back which was probably worthy of an All Ears column of it's own!
Amidst a very hushed & reverent audience this one man was making a lot of noise & when (very politely) told to be quiet started repeating very loudly 'why are you talking to me from the next table? Why are you talking to me from the next table?
Don't tell me to shut up; just because you heard some guitar playing!'
When challenged further he began ranting -
'I know what the fucking Blue Note's all about. It's about fucking self expression!'
until they eventually threw him out.
Anyway...not sure if the line background characters work too well in this one but colouring them seemed to overpower the main character - hmmmm...
Article by Michael Holden
Once the world was a stage but, now, demented by technology, we are turning into an office-or possibly the set of The Office-either way it’s not good news. We may be in recession but public transport still echoes to the sound of people fending off the errands that follow them like dogs through the limitless wastes of contemporary tedium. There was a perfect example on the bus the other day, playing solitaire on a laptop while depressing his colleagues via mobile phone.
(as though he loathed having explain himself but enjoyed the sound of doing so) “I am requesting CCTV because our till was left unattended for five minutes and we think a member of the public might have been in there…”
He paused and moved cards about while the other person responded.
“ All the 20 pound notes were gone, there were only two left in there, that’s not right...”
He made affirmative humming sounds for a while before unleashing a new and presumably terrifying possibility.
“Listen, all I’m saying is, Rodney’s not gonna like it…if anybody thinks that’s gonna come out of my wages for the next month, that’s not gonna happen, I can’t let that happen. You can forget that.”
Sounds of consternation followed.
(placatory) “Well I’m telling you so that you know… you know the numbers on the door and the numbers in the till and it doesn’t add up.”
There was more squealing down the phone.
“He’s not gonna be happy…”
Then the voice on phone fell silent at the implied threat of Rodney.
“I’m not passing the blame, I’m just, giving you the head’s up. Anyway, it’s my stop, I gotta go.”
But he stayed where he was and dealt himself a fresh hand.
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