Football. I cannot believe my misfortune. A Bluesbunny Girl likes her live music but, like all civilised women, has a remarkably low tolerance for football (and footballers). It is not really sport at all - more like performance art. Anyway, back in the days of real men, Jimmy Johnston or John Greig could dribble for a full 90 minutes and still score several times. Your post modern footballer spends more time than I do looking in the mirror and is more interested in your moisturiser than your personality. And football fans? The "Dumpy Club" have decided to place themselves right in the line of sight to the stage. The low slung bums are presumably there to balance the beer gut. But the little legs? I just had to look and see if they had big hairy feet just like a hobbit. After all, the south side of Glasgow is bound to attract clientele from Middle Earth (aka Newton Mearns - a place of magic, mythical creatures and fake tans). Actually, their feet were rather small. We girls have a saying - small feet, small… You can't just blame excessive consumption of lager for it all.
Anyway, I came here for the music so I had better tell you a little bit about the venue. The venue, Linen 1906, used to be a bank and has regular live music. At least, that is what I am told by the sweet Crawford Smith. He is the promoter of tonight's live exuberance and indeed is the first performer on stage. A lovely, enthusiastic boy in dire need of a haircut, he warns us that we might see the appearance of real hippie types later in the evening. That would be after the football crowd has headed off into the sunset in search of that Holy Grail best known as the donner kebab, of course.
The football has finished so that Crawford Smith gets up on to the stage and starts warming up the crowd with a few covers such as "Ain't No Sunshine", "Stand by Me" and a rather fine version of "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted". He is like a big puppy - eager to please and full of bounce. Accompanied on vocals by a young lady in a suspect headscarf (perhaps she had a bad hair day?), this was an unexpected pleasure. Tasteful interpretations and sweet harmonies were the order of the day with that seventies Californian rock vibe. It would indeed be interesting to hear them tackle something original. Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood were so much cooler than any hippie who ever walked this Earth. Just a thought.
Alexander Murray follows next. We are informed that he is a member of the Glasgow Songwriter's Club. He must be tired too as he needs to sit down. I don't know what they teach there but presentation cannot be on the curriculum. Another handsome boy but it is difficult to be sure as I can barely see him. His voice convinces however. His delivery is intriguing and entrancing and he proves to be very listenable. Just the thing to play in the Mercedes SLK with the top down. Anyway darlings, I must now return to these infernal football fans. Here I am trying to enjoy this handsome boy's fine songs when the "Dumpy Club" decide that they must now shout in order to maintain their mundane conversation. Perhaps they just miss Snow White? It occurs to me that the weight of the lager must be making their legs even shorter. Fortunately, their collective IQ - I'll be generous and put it in double figures - overcomes the limitations of their upbringing and activates their homing instinct. Time for that essential kebab it would appear. Glory Be! Back to Alexander Murray. A nice haircut would not hurt him either but a Bluesbunny girl knows a good song when she hears one. She heard two tonight - "Don't Want To Talk About it" and "River Too Wide".
Last on are A M Byrne and the Tempus Fugitives. This Mr Byrne looked a bit like a children's television presenter from the days when Blue Peter was trendy. His haircut had probably not changed in 20 years but he had fur. My God, his shirt was open and that lovely chest hair was on public display. He did not have the essential tan leather jacket like that that God of Men, Andy Tucker (from the Dead Beat Club - Editor) but he had that whole Bryan Ferry don't give a damn cool thing going for him until I noticed that he was wearing braces. Oh dear! The Tempus Fugitives consist of a couple of young boys on drums and bass and a reluctant saxophone player. There were echoes of the blues rock that came out of Texas in the seventies (like Delbert & Glen) with a quirky, off balance folky take on it all especially on "Buckle My Shoe". The nice lady dressed in black on the saxophone added an interesting Bonzo Dog Doo Dah band edge to the sound with some freeform, almost jazzy flourishes.
Time to go then. The martinis are finished and a Bluesbunny Girl knows instinctively when it is all over. Like when the martinis are finished.