Soundtrack: Beach Boys - L.A. (The Light Album)
Last week Thom arrived at work to find a binder on his desk. With no explanation, someone left a binder of John Peel obituaries. There was no note, and no one is claiming responsibility.
Thom has a picture of John Peel on his booth (I imagine it comes second in importance to his Sharon shrine), and he likes his music so someone obviously put two-and-two together and decided to leave him this present. Thom doesn't work for the kind of organisation that would happen to have a binder of John Peel press clippings, which makes this all the more confusing.
I forgot all about it until Thom brought it home yesteday. I just expected a plastic wallet with a few newspaper cut-outs inside. But no, this is beautifully photocopied and well-presented. All clippings are referenced and chronological (obituaries first, tributes later). The person who created this has even thought about the front cover - a shadowed portrait shot of Peel.
Last night Thom dragged me to see The White Stripes. I would've been quite content to stay home to listen to the Vashti Bunyan special on the Freak Zone, as The White Stripes aren't one of my favourites, but I couldn't really get out of it.
The support band, The Greenhornes were ok, if delving into Ocean Colour Scene towards the end. The pre-gig music was an assortment of 60s bluesy psych-garage and Nuggets, and this was reflected in The Greenhornes set. But what started off promising actually went pretty dull. First I thought we'd be treated to a singing drummer, as he was placed front centre. He only sung backing, and although he was very skilled, he lacked the dynamics. He still had 100times more charisma than the rest of the band though. Dear god, bands should be forced to attend a stage craft course before they're allowed to play live, because I've never witnessed anything so lifeless. The lead singer/guitarist performed plenty of guitar solos, but I don't think I saw his body move once during the whole set. And he just kept his head down, with his baker boy hat covering his eyes.
So the lack-lustre support coupled with the fact that Ms Shortarse here couldn't see anything just made me just want the night to end soon. But The White Stripes won me over. They were so, so loud. I don't think I've ever been to a gig so top-heavy, so unrelenting, so euphoric and rapturously received, so chemistry-driven, so dirty.
They know how to give it to us. And my, they didn't half get our imagination running with their clothing so tight they must've jumped off a wardrobe to get into it. Jack's quite renowned for dressing to the right, but poor little Meg. She stood at the front to sing lead on a track, after the men's roaring died down I suddenly heard squealing from the girls. And then 'Sharon, you have to see Meg'. I stood on my tiptoes to be greeted by the most incredible camel toe I've ever witnessed.