3 posts tagged “jack penate”

       Well, Jack. Haven't we been elusive. It started when he moved his original March 4th gig to April 22nd, ruining my highlight of the month and leaving me hopping up and down in anticipation for 6 weeks. Then the diary containing two tickets for the gig was lost, the gig was sold out and I had a very large and scary panic. Luckily no one was home, and then I managed to get a friend from work to sign over her tickets to me which caused a whole other story of trouble and woe for another time, but I would like to thank the phone book, her dad and the few other people of the same last name that I bothered that evening. The next fly in the ointment/needle in the haystack/etc was, on the advice of a friend who had been to the same gig in London a few days before, to avoid some unpleasant yobs wearing stupid baseball hats who were very rude and pushy. Sounded easy enough. Or so you'd think...

The lineup for Penate (pronounced, despite the lack of an accent over the n on most promotional posters, pen-iaaaaatey) included one Adele and one Late of the Pier supporting Penate himself.

      Adele was...like an unrehearsed and one woman impression of Peggy Sue and the Pirates. Lots of nice, fun, jazz inspired lyrics intertwined with scatting and 'shoo be doo wop' (there's something to write to instantly make you feel stupid) interludes, but she just didn't have the mojo or the beauty of the combined voices of Peggy Sue, neither did she have the fun songs or the inspiring lyrics that, for the 20 minute set they played, made me want to throw away my doctorish ambitions and start smoking 20 a day to become a throaty-voiced (albeit dying) jazz singer.
   My impression of her was thwarted about halfway through her set when she kept missing chords on her guitar and eventually had to stop playing one song because she couldn't do it, blaming it being the last night of her tour. Well, Adele, everyone else can play their guitars on the last night of their tour, why can't you?

Next up were the wonderful and facinating Late of the Pier. Having not known their name all through the set, we asked the bassist as they were packing up and he explained it as 'not making any sense; we couldn't think of anything.' Those wacky music kids, eh. But they were brilliant! I really, really, hope they catch on. So much so I'm going to write nice things about them. First of all, check out synth keyboardist:

    Did you spot it too? That's right, it's an 80's-tastic jumper. I love it. I'm not usually much of a fan of 80's fashion, believing that leg warmers, leggings, shoulder pads and slightly-too high waisted jeans for today's modern standards should stay where they belong: 20 years ago. However, this man worked the 80's jumper look, and I could only commend him for it, even though he looked young enough to have never seen the decade itself. Ah well.
    The next excitement on the Late of the Pier front was the mysterious row of broken bed slats propped in the centre of the stage. Observe: When we asked jumper-youth what the planks of wood were for before going up, he told us they were to keep him on stage. Given that he was small, skinny, and in a large floppy jumper, this alarmed me somewhat. What exactly was he capable of that warranted the placement of barriers (on a budget) to keep him from the audience? Only when they started playing did I realise why they were there. And it wasn't, as much as I would have loved it to be, to keep the audience from rushing the stage at the amazing metal-rave-disco-pure synth action...wonder-music (bagsie royalties for that soon-to-catch-on term) but for the fittie front man to drum on! If you would care to turn your eyes to the picture on the right, you too can spot the drum sticks in his hands as I repeatedly tried to catch him mid-drum. They were brilliant. Some said they were better than Penate but they were oh so wrong. They were also very friendly and did lots of crowd-warming-uppage (although most of this was done with the synth genius.) Genius.

Penate!!! The highlight of April, gig-wise. He was suuuuuuuuuuuuuuper. Except the beginning of the gig was ruined by a very, very rude man who kept pushing me. He was wearing a stupid baseball hat. That's right, it was the stupid mean guys that my friend had warned me about. I am proud to say I fought back when he swore at me (not that proud, but I never knew my vocabulary of expletives was so very extensive) but then he elbowed me very hard and I scuttled off to complain to security, who did nothing. Thanks. I returned to the crowd, raving to Penate hits such as Spit at Stars, Learning Lines, Got My Favourite, Second Minute or Hour, Made of Codes and ending with a hefty stage invasion on Torn on the Platform. Brilliant. Penate's happy bouncy indie-pop that is Radio 1's new favourite had eeeeveryone jumping up and down, even the guitarist and bassist from Late of the Pier who, surely, must be a tiny bit bored of the same set every night. I was dancing right in front of them at one point before, upon realising it was fittie guitarist, commenced with much hair smoothing and sophisticated bobbing up and down. This pulled me back into the energetic but rather dangerous crowd full of Elbowey and his stupid mates, who proceeded to push my face away from him. This hurt and I got upset. However, when the show was over and the lights came back on, I saw him and elbowed him very hard in the chest before skipping off to the girls' toilets where he couldn't get me back. Revenge is sweet.
   

Well, Penate was brilliant, I'm off to see him again supporting the Maccabees soon. Hopefully his stupid supporters won't be there as they certainly don't want to feel my wrath twice. Maybe this time I'll take a stupid hat to throw them off. Great gig.      

I've come to some musical conclusions recently.
Ever since I had my first MP3 player, about this time 2 years ago, I've been of the opinion that life should be set to music. Perhaps this is not how god or indeed science intended us to be, but if, like me, you can now no longer leave the house without your music playing device, there's little you can do to control it.
    Having an iPod means I will now do more things with my life; go to London on my own, (I would have had no one to talk to pre-iPod) walk (not cycle) down to the shop, go to the gym more often, (nothing, and I mean nothing is better than running on the treadmill to Tiesto or Pendulum) and unload the dishwasher, simply because I can now do them accompanied by the music I like.
    Where you go and what you do, however, requires different types of music. Walking or running requires fast paced techno or rap. Tieso, Pendulum, and Beatnuts are perfect for this cause. Nothing makes me feel more like I'm in an action movie than running to Pendulum's Slam. Try it. Buses, trains and planes need music with lyrics that you listen to and think about; Kate Nash, Just Jack and Jack Penate. The elliptical machine at the gym requires Ludacris, Chris Brown or other cheesy and terrible but fast-paced mainstream hip-hop. Any potentially noisy situation (the Tube, crowds) need my favourite old, tragic jazz or soul - Ella Fitzgerald, Muddy Waters, Erma Franklin, Louis Armstrong and Dionne Warwick.
    However, the two tracks I can't stop listening to this week are terrible. I'm ashamed. But they're so bad, they're good. The first is Nadia Oh's Egyptian Lover. It is the best walking, feeling a bit daring track ever. Promise. The second is some classic 90s trance. Yep, I like 90s trance. Given that I spent most of the 90s in pink frocks and leggings, jumping in puddles and singing to the Spice Girls, I feel I rather missed out on the trance scene, so I'm going back now, and this is my current favourite: Big Bass - What you do. Apologies to anyone with good taste. 

   

I decided to visit the capital properly since I have only been about twice since moving to England. I didn't actually do that well but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Here is the story of my gander, written (mostly) as it happened. Only the best for you, dear readers.

9:20 - arrive at bus stop.
9:22 - board bus.
9:23 - leave bus as have forgotten to get cash out.
9.40 - arrive back at bus stop with cash, trashy magazine and cough sweets.
9.50 - board bus successfully.
10.00 - congratulate self at evident success of outing.
10.02 - realise have forgotten map.
10.04 - have strange conversation with man about the state of public transport.
10.05 - offered petition to close Radcliffe Infirmary. Decline.
10.06 - sigh with relief when man leaves. Turned out he was with the BNP.
10.10 - realise do not know where anything in London is. Panic.
10.11 - remember that that is the point of the outing.
10.12 - see lots of kids with parents getting on buses to London as is half-term. Think nostalgic thoughts about youth etc. (We 16 year olds see everything from an older, much more adult perspective yah)
10.13 - reluctantly clear bag from adjacent seat as more people board the bus. Sulk.
10.14 - make it onto the A40. Feel smug as have an empty seat next to me and the Oxford High girl in front has to sit next to a very old, fat man.
10.15 - wonder why am writing in Bridget Jones style pronounless drivel. Cannot help the drivel.
10.20 - I hate those stupid adverts on loose bits of paper that are shoved in magazines. I managed to fling mine across the bus but a nice man in a yellow scarf helped me pick them up.
10.21 - I realised that my phone beeping, magazine explosion and paper scrunching do not a quiet passenger make. I turned my phone on silent, shoved everything in my bag and organised myself to be a friendly and respectful bus rider.
10.22 - jumped a mile at my phone vibrating in my pocket
10.23 - I would like to point out to all readers that I was up at 8.30 this morning. In the holidays.
10.24 - sitting in the window seat, listening to music and gazing outside wistfully makes me feel like I'm in a music video. (When I'm doing the same on a train I feel like I'm in a film. People in films never ride the bus)
10.29 - marvel at 7 year old in opposite row doing su-doku
10.30 - chuckle at van labelled  'Superloo' going past.
10.35 - play 'spot the EU country on a van.' Spot 23.
10.40 - smile at field of sheep.They don't smile back.
10.50 -  peer over at man in front's iPod. He seems to like French music.
10.51 - am very bored
10.54 - panic at su-doku child opposite. Not only can she do su-doku but she is doing it very quickly.
10.55 - panic over. She was looking at the answers in the back and copying them in. Um, cheating.
10.57 - wonder what 'spray possible ahead' motorway sign might mean
10.58 - arrive at Hillingdon Station. Sigh in relief as the end is now in sight
11.01 - get stuck in traffic.
11.40 - drive past Marble Arch. I have decided I want to go to Downing Street, the Tate Modern and Buckingham Palace.
[Will now be recording what I listened to and where, because it fascinates me. It might not fascinate you, but you're not the one writing this are you.]
11.52 - step off bus into sunny Victoria listening to Bright Eyes' First Day of My Life. How appropriate. Felt very happy
11.54 - there's something brilliant about walking around knowing nothing in the sun. Like being a tourist but without the shorts
11.57 - being at Victoria, seeing a particular Sainsburys Local brings back memories of staying in a hotel nearby years ago and instead of going out for dinner, my mum and I went to Sainsburys and ate English food. I think we had prawn cocktail crisps and peking duck wraps. But you couldn't get them abroad!

[I was in a state of iPoddy sunny bliss at this point and lost all track of time. It was about half twleveish though.]
I so rarely go anywhere without knowing where it is that it's very liberating to jut wander about without direction.
Saw a sign to Sloane Square and decided to follow it. I wandered through the smart furniture and antique shops on Pimlico Road of Westminster before ending up on Chelsea Bridge Road and walking up it. I was reminded of Suz telling me about how her mum used to take her to London in half term to get some culture. I need some of that.
I saw a bridge and two funnels from Chelsea Bridge and decided it was the Tate Modern, so I strolled along Chelsea Embankment in the sun listening to Just Jack and feeling cheerful. The wind was a-whipping, and there were some ducks bouncing about on the water. I smiled at them, but, like the sheep, they weren't interested. Ah well, nothing can spoil my mood. Getting closer to the bridge I decided it wasn't the Tate. Laugh not at my lack of knowledge of how London works, because none of you know your way round Athens or Vilnius, do you now. That's what I thought.
Houses along the Embankment are very posh, as are the people who live in them.    
I pottered up to the bridge which I had mistook for the footbridge which takes you to the Tate Modern and the Globe, I noticed it had a few exciting things around it:

A bit of physics for you on the above photograph: large groups of people cannot walk in step on suspension bridges because the repeated vibration will sway the bridge and eventually cause it to snap. My mum and I did this on a footbridge over the motorway on our way to Sainsburys and it was very very scary. Don't try it at home. Or on a bridge.

Realising I had just walked a mile to nowhere, I asked a man with a hard hat for directions to the nearest tube. (I have a love/hate relationship with the tube. It's fun the first time but then you realise it's not instant teleporting from one place to another, and filthy, so I lose interest.) I was directed to South Kensington tube up a street of what I always call Reihenhaueser. Row-houses, in German. Terraced, in English I suppose, but that doesn't make any sense to me. Anyway, there they are on your left.

I made it to Kings Road in Chelsea and pottered up it, looking at furniture shops and the fun architecture. Chelsea reminds me of a smart European Old Town, similar to the Gamla Stan in Stockholm because it has lots of old and new shops, all in different buildings. Very exciting stuff. This is what I saw: