GEISHA & ARABROT

BIG JOAN AND GEISHA AND ARABROT at the Epicurean Lounge
First of all, I get a call at 7:30 from Steve letting me know that they have arrived! HOORAH. But are not staying the night in Londinium, so I better get my ass up there NOW. I panic slightly, as I'm next door with the Pembridge Crew drinking whine and polish RUM watching/not watching My Big fat Greek Wedding, and am no way prepared for journey-ing. So run to room, grab things, go to the toilet, run back to room to get the rape alarm (never know girls), then Notting Hill Station. Realise that all those announcements are telling me the central line is closed all weekend. WHY! WHY IS LONDON AGAINST ME?! I look on the map at all the pretty colours and chose circle line, as it goes in a nice circle.

Off I trot. Two stops until Farringdon and suddenly 'this train terminates here'. What the fuck? Inital thoughts are 'its going to EXPLODE!' before logic sets in and I search desperately for another route. Its an outside station which somehow makes my paranoia go haywire. Everyone is rushing around trying to figure out what to do now that Central is defunct. I manage to attract a rather dashing man who walks me all the way from westbound to eastbound, I thank him, and hope he hasn't missed his train because of his damsel-in-distress venture.

Arrive at Farringdon and stupidly forget any form of directions or map. Rape alarm seems a lot less important now. Bugger. The roads are dark and dingey and alley-like so I walk into a newsagents and forget the street the Epicurean Lounge is on. DITZ. Right...walking time. And its a nice long road; this Clerkenwell Road...I get to 105 and think...maybe 10 isn't quite this direction. So all the way back for me. SIGH. Then somehow wind up in another alley, ask for further directions at a pub; they guys outside don't seem too impressed with the name 'Epicurean Lounge'. My feet keep tooting until I hear wolf whistles and heckling..the fingers tighten around the rape alarm..AND THEN! Bristol Van! Rejoice! It's opposite the pub.

Walk through a door, into the longest stark white corridor to be made, find a toilet on the way (God is kind afterall), and into the rage of sound. I see Annette first, and give her a wave and turn around, and theres Steve! People I know. Aw, stress levels decreasing.

Soundchecks are in progress so I grab a chair and make conversation. It's nice to see people after so long. A quick trip to Tesco's to buy booze as bar prices are fanny (£5 for diet coke and corona), somehow I end up saying DANCE MONKEY DANCE and we have lovely norweigen humour. Steve gets ID'd; I think I laughed too much at this.

The music!
GEISHA begin, unfortunately to a small audience. They are superb; I think all agreed that it was the best set they've done; the drum machine totally as one with the band. As front man Tony really outdid himself; the fact that I could hear some lyrics (this is not a dig, as geisha also work well with the obscurity of lyrics) added a new level; and lets not forgot, the wonderful little drummermachine now has added tricks! Steve played up to showman, and even though I can name all his moves, the audience were non the wiser; and blatantly impressed. Photos in my profile; noted are Tony doing 'hail tony', Steve humping his bass and kicking it. Geisha rule. They played 777 which I've always been intriged to hear live; good good shit. And to end the night (it will haunt them forever) a cover of I feel LOVE. To hear it is to believe it. But I felt some luvin'.

ARABROT are second, and they are also all half naked. Yummy pale european flesh. With instruments. The sound is like fuzzy hell, the look is industriale extrodiare (ok, doesn't quite rhyme.) and its so rocking that Steve is thrusting into my ass after each hook. NICE. They are a strange concoction of guys, but it works on stage. I love the wacking a spring on ya bass move.

BIG JOAN, who I've heard before, and am never dissapointed with (exception are at Seymours when it was incomplete Big Joan) headline. The bin is on stage; and I absolutely love the sound of it. They play tiger and tower; admittingly these are the ones I can remember and name. And Annette sings into a telephone. Great great great. The german goddess is flawless, and the audience lap it up like kittens with milk.

The night ends, and Geisha and Arabrot head back to Bristol. Sad times! Goodbyes are said and I go dance to drum n bass with the others until closing time. The rest is summarised in another entry (EASTBOUND).