Arts

Kitchen Gigs

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.

raised forksDuring elongated Easter holidays, we retreated to the wilds, with a ‘holiday’ kitchen which was functional – just. A portable speaker came along to ensure there was still listening while standing.

Remote means no TV, Wi-Fi or internet. Not a problem… AARRRGGGHHH. Remote means limited local shops for provisions: think Baltic state, bare shelves and withered veg by teatime (my kids call it dinner – they’re wrong). Remote means panic when you get a surprise period and dread the walk of shame from said ‘functional’ kitchen to ‘functional’ local garage.

I repeat, GARAGE, which held the only option of evening sanitary protection for the difficult night-time lady session (women, mentally I hear you folding facecloths and rooting for an elastic band; men… will have skipped this bit). A best-fit lacklustre selection was made followed by a shuffle back to the kitchen to unravel a sanitary towel that was SO long it was bigger than my shoe and SO scented I shed nasal hair.

The offending items were a source of interest in the kitchen throughout the break; not because they were proudly on display but due to the eye-watering ‘scent’. The fumes alone from these billowing sails were enough to start cell mutation from 10 yards. What do they put in them? How bad do they think a lady garden whiffs? And who is head of scent selection?

Tunes this month were turned up loud to drown out the volume of these relentless fanny pads. With more than ample listening time I’ve spread my wings with this corking selection. Press play, hold your nose and turn it up.

TelemanOn the boil: Dusseldorf by Teleman from the album Brilliant Sanity

This London four-piece have had beard stokers stroking beards with increasing urgency since 2013 when they debuted with Cristina. The men of the Tele are ex-Pete and the Pirates members Peter Cattermoul and brothers Thomas and Jonny Sanders, with the addition of Hiro Amamiya as the drummer. The sound is precise vintage-synth meets city slicker with more than a passing nod to Kraftwerk.

Their first album Breakfast, produced by Bernard Butler, teleported in during 2014. It included Skeleton Dance, which got us all hopping around the kitchen.

Dusseldorf is the opener from second album Brilliant Sanity, a high-five to the electronic roots of this city and its local residents, the aforementioned Kraftwerk. Produced by Dan Carey (responsible for the sound of Hot Chip and reams more) it’s the perfect introduction to fire you right into their box.

Michael Head StrandsSimmering: Queen Matilda by Michael Head and The Strands from the album The Magical World Of The Strands

Simmering, simmering, always simmering is Michael Head. Mick Head is the scouser that all other scousers should be. So for those of you who know Shack – nice one, la – it goes without saying you’ve found his other tackle: Pale Fountains, The Strands and most recently The Red Elastic Band (aka TREB).

However, if you ain’t got a Scooby then press play on Queen Matilda for an introduction to a seductive bit of Head. Nick Drake and, of course, Head’s fave band Love, are clear influences.

Singing tales about everyday life, love and being bogged down by the grind, Mick’s stumbled away from it for the majority of his life by being high on drugs, but this well-reformed heroin addict now deals himself out for his devoted cult fans to mainline into their ears and hearts – inspiring a following that runs a self-funded website for its messiah: www.Shacknet.co.uk.

Recently, Michael Head and The Red Elastic Band performed the best gig I’ve had the honour to attend. Sublime music and boss scouse banter, with a scheduled finish of 9.30pm so he could run for the train back to Liverpool. LEGEND – already.

Clash London CallingIn the deep freeze: Train in Vain by The Clash from the album London Calling

This month, getting yanked out of my kitchen’s deep freeze (the place reserved for the Musical Leadership Team) are The Clash. Train In Vain (released in 1980 as a single) is my go-to pogo piece. As soon as Topper Headon opens on the drums, you’re in it.

There are some obscure theories about the title’s meaning; that train is all about the rhythm of the track and whispers say it’s about Jonesy catching the train home after his bitch punk rock goddess* wouldn’t let him in when he came to woo her.
*A certain Viv Albertine of The Slits, who has a corking autobiography: Clothes, Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys, Boys.

Train In Vain is the third single from London Calling (1979). It doesn’t feature on the early LP tracklist but as a hidden track, simply because it was a last-minute addition, originally planned for an NME flexi-disc release when the sleeve was already in production.

It’s perfect for getting edgy and starting a riot in your kitchen. My crowd were well rowdy – a plastic arrow sailed across the room during an exhausting miming performance. It just about managed to pierce *that* odour.

@GingerWarby

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Written by Vicky Lindsay Warburton

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.