Swoonsome

I don't think I'm a particularly girly girl. In fact, I don't think you can use the term 'girl' to describe me at all any more (although, a few weeks ago, Miss P and I went to the cinema and the nice young man who collected the tickets said 'enjoy the film, girls'. He'd better not have been taking the piss, or he's dead). Being un-girly doesn't have to mean unfeminine, mind. All woman, me.

The particularly girly girl thing of fainting isn't something I've ever suffered from. Girls at school used to faint, and I can remember thinking 'what on earth's the matter with her, the idiot?'. This week, for the very first time in my life, I joined that merry band of idiots.

The lovely Dennis, who works at Universal, told me about an instore performance by James Blake at Rough Trade East. I often think I need to expand my musical taste, so I asked the Scot to join me and we went along. James Blake is the Next Big Thing. I know this because HMV have decreed it so and therefore it's true, surely? Place was packed, queue snaked right round the corner for the precious wristbands (very lucky that Dennis collected us - we'd never have got in). Introductions over, bit of chat and then the lights dim and James is on.

He was good. Beautiful voice, hits the high notes, clear as a bell, good sound, deeeep bass, and completely self-deprecating and charming between numbers. I closed my eyes a lot during his set, stood very still and let the music wash over me.

This may have been my mistake. Because as he played the last song, I almost fainted. A full-on Jane Austen-esque, corset-too-tight-can't-breathe swooning fit. Thank fuck Dennis and The Scot were right behind to catch me and take me to the safety of a seat nearby. Mortifying. And I was pouring with sweat - like a massive whitey but with added embarrassment. Minutes later, it was like it never happened. I felt fine. Very odd.

Met up with friends last night. Told The Ex about the incident. He said that standing still, coupled with heat, and perhaps being at the optimum point for sound/bass caused this. He knows this shit. He's clever and works on science programmes at The BBC. He also suggested I look up 'brown noise', which I just did. Luckily, James Blake didn't hit a brown note. If he had, I'd have been not only fainting, but also shitting myself in front of Dennis and The Scot, which isn't a good look on a girl/woman. Find out all about it here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_note

Or watch this:

Nads also tells me she fainted at one of her first gigs. It was hot, packed and the bass was oh-so heavy. I asked her who these bass demons were. It was All About Eve. I laughed my tits off. Prime movers of heavyosity - All About Eve. I can't wait to see Tim Bricheno and tell him he made her faint. What's even better is, she thinks she was wearing an arran jumper at the time. Comedy gold:

Health warning: Can cause swooning or loose stools

(Postscript: the reason for meeting up with old friends at The Enterprise last night was for Tabby. Sorely missed. RIP, my dear old friend.)

Black Mountain, Dark Horses

So...when I hear that one of my top fave bands are going to be in town, I go to buy tickets. Sold out. SOLD OUT??? What? Why? Distraught, I start thinking about who I know (it's NEVER what I know...) who might be able to scratch backs/grease palms on my behalf. And then lo and behold, the Great Gig Deity deems that Black Mountain will do TWO dates at the Lexington and this denim-clad Cinderella will go to the ball.

I get to the Lexington unfeasibly early. Not cos I'm keen, I'll have you know, but because I finished work at 6 and it's not that far away. So, I grab food (Snickers), beverage (shandy) and settle down in a corner to wait for Nads to arrive. Am amazed to see band sitting right next to me. Not wanting to end up grinning like a nutter or coming out with some wank like "oooh, I love you lot", I occupy myself doing a bit of paperwork and a couple of overdue phone calls. Nads arrives and we head outside, saving me from suggesting a hairy group hug...

We have a catch up, then head up to see the support, Dark Horses. I liked them. Very cool girl singer, sporting a cape (I like capes - it's the 70's-meets-medieval-Flake-ad-wannabe in me), and clearly a heavy adoration of Ms Patti Smith, which is no bad thing. She has a really strong, clear voice, but can do the sweet thing too. They actually are quite dark, those Horses.

Was pleased to see Alex Milas, editor of Metalhammer there. Alex is a huge, hairy American and is very adorable. He's a talented journalist (winner of Press mag editor of the year 2009) and a friend of the Old Punk who sells him his Metal Blade wares for his magazine on a regular basis. Alex tells me he's never seen BM live, and is really quite excited. Well, that makes two of us, love.

But let's cut to the chase. When Black Mountain take the stage, there's a change in atmosphere (not least cos of dry ice - love a bit of that, dodgy ex-goth that I am). And when the opening strains of "Stormy High" ring out, you just know you're in for it. And as they follow it up with the next three tracks off "In The Future", I suddenly think I'm at an ATP Don't Look Back event by accident. All that changes with their latest offering "Old Fangs". Great. Check out the vid:

And there's more new stuff - and I love it all. Particularly a track which goes very 70s Heavy Load, and another which is heavier still. Could I love these people any more? (I may be gushing a bit now - jesus...). And then "Don't Run Our Hearts Around" and I know we're coming to a close. But they don't get off that easy, and an encore brings another couple, finishing with a bloody corking "Bright Lights". Stunning.

And then it's over. And all that shandy means a trip to the Ladies...after relieving myself, I bump into singer Amber BM, and relieve myself all over again by telling her how great they were. She's a real sweetheart. Turns out even more so, because seconds later I can't find my wallet and heading back into the loo to look, she comes out of the loo I've been in and has a look around with me, whilst telling me how much she loves my handbag. Turns out the big hippy handbag is the culprit and wallet is hiding within. I'm such a knobhead.

As we leave, Nads and I peruse merch - there's a megadeal for a ticket to see BM supported by The Black Angels AND a t-shirt - for £15!!! Ever the Yorkshirewomen, we love a bargain, and money changes hands...roll on the release of Wilderness Heart in September (which I'll be buying like some spod überfan when they play at End Of The Road, whilst wearing my t-shirt and having yet another big Black Mountain lovewankspoutoff, no doubt...)