Thursday, 15 December 2011

They have not heard of Euros Childs

I ventured to Dalston last night on a trip to see Euros Childs – all edge and that as I hopped stations to pastures new [but not green] to stand in the company of many more and marvel at the simplicity of it all. I have written several times about Euros Childs – he’s kind of gotten under my skin [and gotten hold of my heart] It’s the simplicity coupled with the lunacy that I like. The turn of phrase and the subtle shift in lyrical matter that sends you smiling but at times reeling and [poodle] rocking.

He’s a slip of thing with a voice rich in insight – a kind of genuine soul artist. When I was asked in the office what he was like – I found myself stumbling and using words like psychedelic, welsh, a folk artist, a comedic Skellern, a raconteur, a good musician, that bloke from Gorky’s. It fell on deaf ears – I should just direct them to the National Elf Library.

He is none of those things – he’s more than that. And because of that we were treated to a slice of the magical misery that is Ends – another new album’s worth of diamond material that will never take out the X-Factor Xmas release. It was him and a piano – a lovely great grand piano on a tiny stage in East London. It says something that he sticks with the new material – he isn’t one to change his view – he’s often out to change ours.

I saw him once at King’s College and he gave us the entire Miracle Inn – all 14 minutes of it – told us not to clap. We just listened. It was wonderful. And last night was like that to – from the gothic horror of Cavendish Hall to the suffocating lament for safety in your Parents’ Place – it all made sense and touched me – I guess. As music is wont to do. I know I’ve argued that it doesn’t change the world – and I’ll stick by that.[ And don’t throw Live Aid at me – that changed fuck all – apart from the further removal of the state to intervene and a nice sideways Thatcher/ Cameron – we’re all in it together - so give us your fucking money hey hey hey Pyjama punk fuckers] But it can touch you – and you could feel that last night as Patio Song was wrestled away from him and into the mouths of the audience as we sang and he listened – all cruise sHIP and nods and winks.

It is always a pleasure to be in a room with him. I don’t think I’d feel the same with the X Factor ‘stars’ all tantrums and talc. I had a chat – got the CD signed – talked with the support act H.Hawkline and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Life gets simple when you get to forty. As for the X Factor – if I’m honest it is no different to the whole music scene – be it independent or major [and it’s hard to see the split these days] but part of me feels we should take all of those fuckers and do a Wicker Man on them. I guess it’s because afterwards as I stood shoulder to shoulder in a crowded train – slightly damp from the rain and awkward to overheard conversations from ‘city boys’ all devoid of politics and rage discussing corporate deals and bullshit power – I genuinely heard the following exchanges about the X Factor as a couple spoke to a fellow city minion:


He [out of focus and suffering from drink]: She was in the first round – yeah the ones before the judges come.


Her [all lashes and lipstick – but slightly saggy and a touch too shabby]: Yeah they’re just looking for a story at that point.

He: Yeah they either want the really good singers or the totally shit ones

Her:[not understanding that her boyfriend had confirmed her mediocrity in his attack of the whole media system] I mean I’m not bothered – I’m working on my own material – and if I can make it on my own terms then that will be better.

The conversation did not gather pace – it died in sighs and stupidity. They have never heard Euros Childs - they never will.

Everybody should know at least one song perhaps even two.

Everyone.


Costa Rica [going wrong] followed by Love radiates Around [A cover but on Ends]



and Horseriding [on Miracle Inn]