Sick of being the only grey-tinged gal amid an ocean of bald blokes at gigs, Vicky Lindsay Warburton decided to start holding her own. Kind of. Grab your utensils and get ready to mosh not mash.
Best laid utopian plans of organisation, and extreme early autumn present purchasing, have been laughed off as real life stood in the way. Mainly in the form of CHAIRS. Donated chairs, chairs to be sold and chairs I’ve bought; chairs that live in this house have sprouted tiny feet and found their own kind in the kitchen. All huddled together, interlocked like a giant game of chair Jenga.
Money-saving furniture swapping plans (with brother-in-law) turned to raised eyebrows and heavy sighs of “for fuck’s sake” and it was anything but cost effective. A badly behaved settee exited said kitchen in a rented van after smashing light fittings and gouging the front door. In return, an unsuitable table plus chairs barged their way in. A second new table (complete with, you guessed it, four more chairs) was sourced, then two more appeared, totalling two too fucking many and three kitchen tables.
Drowning in a tsunami of furniture, there’s not been much room for kitchen discos. Rhythmically it’s all been focused in the wrists, as one has wanked off far too many chair spindles with a fine grade sandpaper to remember.
Mid-sandpaper action, high from paint stripper, physically bonding to said wood I pondered: who knew their life journey? Whose buttocks had they cradled? So over this month of extreme eating when parking a festive backside, spare a thought for the seat, its maker and whichever poor sod has made, renovated or sourced your four-legged arse rester for you.
Happy Christmas to chairs all over the world. Without you, we’d be stood up. Bring on 2017, quickly.
Woods are boiling hot on my musical hob. Now on their ninth studio LP, they have certainly branched out since the band’s conception in 2005. This album introduces a touch of reggae and African jazz. Jeremy Earl is the trunk of Woods; with a falsetto voice reminiscent of The Antlers’ Peter Silberman, he also runs his own label Woodsist. Love it!
The Brooklyn psych-folk outfit are certainly one to watch and with past members including the amazing Kevin Morby, those in the know are applauding from their tree houses.
Education point: you want to know what lo-fi is? Listen to albums one to eight. But for now, Creature Comfort will have you gliding your way through the festive prep.
Simmering: Sit Down by James from the album Gold Mother
James. Of course you know them but did you know they were back with a new album this year? They are and it’s called Girl at the End of the World. They are legends of course, back simmering in the musical ether due to this latest release and recent tour.
Did you know Tim Booth is a Yorkshireman? A Bradford lad. Did you know he used to teach ecstatic dance (musical therapy) classes a few years back in LA? Did you know they have sold more than 25 million albums worldwide?
Sit Down is James’s anthem (if nowhere near their best song). First released in 1989 on Rough Trade records, it’s a song about Booth feeling alone in his 20s but finding hope and inspiration in the works of Patti Smith and author Doris Lessing.
Booth’s dancing alone should be bottled and given away as happiness for anyone suffering from too much overindulgence this December. Keep dancing Mr Booth – no sitting down for you.
In the deep freeze: Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair by The Arctic Monkeys from the album Suck It And See
The Arctic Monkeys are no longer yoofs: they are actual real men and actual real musical legends. They’ve headlined Glasto twice and are the first UK band on an independent label to have five consecutive number one albums here in Blighty.
Unpacking them from my deep freeze for kitchen dancing/musical chairs, I’m going to stay blissfully ignorant of reality and assume the Sheffield stars have retained their northern normality, including Matt Helders’ trackie bottoms.
They’re currently on hiatus so we can only hope for a reunion in 2017. In the meantime this throbbing track is a corker that means these lads will always have a chair round my three kitchen tables.
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Vicky is reintegrating back into society as her children are now in school. She teaches mindfulness to teenagers, wears trainers and paddles through the nonsense of life.