I’m staring at four alloy wheels and a carton of natural yoghurt as I write these words. Whether you are actually interested in those very facts is, of course, a matter for conjecture but I thought I’d tell you anyway. It gives perspective (or something like that) but onwards to last night’s adventures…
Once more finding myself lost and bewildered in Glasgow , I descended into the nearest convenient basement (aka The Liquid Ship) to partake of a Free Candy Session featuring Al Shields, Hippykiller and Lucky Jumper. It is the natural way of things. First on and making with the red shirt and black tie look was Al Shields and very proficient he proved too with his take on Americana showing a decent level of passion and sensitivity. I’m not quite sure where he got his accent from but he made a valiant effort to overcome a strangely indifferent audience.
Who’s on next? Hippykiller. Now, Hippykiller is a great name for a band. It’s almost a concept especially if you fancy a bit of role playing that involves beating up long haired, foul smelling layabouts. Hell, there’s not enough of those about nowadays (oops, I find myself drowning in a sea of sarcasm again…). Anyway, Hippykiller made using a drum machine acceptable in mixed company as this four piece powered through a buoyant set of country rock meets power pop hybrids that proved catchy does not necessarily mean stupid. With both Salman Rushdie and John the Baptist getting name checked in their lyrics, I had to admire the intelligently orchestrated twists and turns of their set with the final result being that Hippykiller actually made me smile (and that hasn’t been done in a while).
Last on were Lucky Jumper. If Carlsberg made pub singers then Lucky Jumper would be the best pub singers in the world (oops, more sarcasm…). Then again, two guys with two guitars but without a sat-nav to guide them out of mediocrity were always going to find it tough to follow Hippykiller. Ho hum.
Driven to fried food by that, it was off to the King’s Cafe for some chips. The sweetheart behind the counter advised me to be careful when consuming my chips as the pickled onions might roll out. Wise words, of course, but nothing can really prepare you for the two drunken blondes that you meet on that eventful last train home. She’s going to throw up. She’s not going to throw up. Life is truly a pantomime. My advice is to avoid sitting in the first row.