2: Minnie Birch and Hoodlums at The Social

5 Little Portland Street, London, W1W 7JD
www.thesocial.com
hoodlumsband.com
facebook.com/minniebirch
Visited on Tuesday 27 November 2012

It seems early in the project to be throwing in a bonus event that was not on the schedule, but I guess these are flexible times for me, so here’s a little write-up of the excellent show I went to last night at The Social.

Sure is engrossed

Following two recently cancelled London gigs, I was delighted finally to be going to hear my friend Minnie Birch (aka Emily Jacques). As this was not an official culturecake event, I left Sure at home reading about his kind, and opted for a well-worn rather than adventurously new route into town (train from Clapton, tube to Oxford Circus) (a pleasingly efficient 35 mins). The Social is a small venue on Little Portland Street, and the last time I was there I was actually on the stage – with my band Neon Choir, supporting Brendan Rodgers. I’d never heard Hoodlums before, though one of my companions, MinusTheMatt, strongly suspects that Neon Choir might have supported them many years ago… Anyway, we were to reserve judgment about whether to stick around to hear them, seeing as Miss Jacques was the priority. 

She opened with Sea Shanty, the only one of her songs I knew, having bought it from iTunes. I was amazed by how this unassuming and self-effacing young lady held the room from the very beginning. Her songs are simple and upfront and her voice is sweet as you like. She sings about one night stands (though was careful to point out that she is neither an advocate nor an opponent of such), the boys in her home town of Hemel Hempstead, and good old-fashioned heartbreak, but none of it is clichéd. 

Rather, it is compellingly beautiful, and I was even inspired to whip out my iPhone to write down a lyric at one point (regrettably this might have looked like I was just sending a text) – something about ‘yearning to get lost’, which struck me as quite a lovely notion. The room filled up throughout her set, but she had the audience’s full attention right to the end – modesty, great guitar-playing and a voice that sounds like she’s barely breathing out makes for a pretty damn powerful stage presence. LOVELY.

Small stage, big act

Yay for fairy lights

Like the drum dork that I am, I had been eyeing up the Hoodlums’s very nice-looking wooden shell drum kit (you have to walk behind it to get to the ladies’, affording a good opportunity to spy on the gear), which was pleasantly adorned with fairy lights. This also pleased one of my other companions for the night, Anna of the Karenina, who is an ardent fan of anything Christmassy, and we all agreed that the presence of a splendid looking double bass on the stage was promising and thusly that we should stay and see what the band would be like. When the appositely-monikered Lou Vainglorious strutted on to the stage to lead them in their opening number it was clear that this was going to be a very entertaining show! 

From the first song, Mr Vainglorious OWNED the room, clambering over the seating to touch his adoring fans and striking the kinds of poses that you really need to have balls to pull off. The Dalston haircut, skinny jeans, tight vest and beads around the neck all worked, and he’s got one of those great indie voices that transitions from passionate from-the-heart projection to girlie falsetto with impressive ease. There was an amusing moment when he engaged MinusTheMatt in a thumb war mid-song (which I hope MTM had the grace to let him win), and we were only slightly worried about the fact that dear Minnie’s guitar seemed to break his fall a couple of times as he launched himself towards his keyboard player, with the intention of stroking that boy’s head. 

THE DRUMMER was great. Apart from the fact that the kit sounded amazing, his beats drove the whole machine brilliantly and he managed to Go For It without overwhelming the rest of the band (a risk in a venue that small, but you’re in good hands with the very very nice and enthusiastic sound man there). The set list seemed to consist of a string of songs that are destined to be hits (this one is definitely going on my ‘it’s Friday and I’m on my way to the pub after work’ playlist), and the crowd were loving it. Hoodlums are mainly from London, and the brilliant romp Anything Goes, which closed the set, celebrates LV's Southend origins ("God bless the Estuary Boys!"). The uplifting vocal harmonies and big anthemic nature of the tune mean it would probably be better suited to a bigger venue (in fact here’s them doing it at Brixton Academy while supporting Keane on tour this summer), but it worked just fine at The Social and concluded an extremely enjoyable and entertaining gig. The other encore, Four Letter Word, was probably my favourite song of the night, and that, plus all the rest will be on their forthcoming album, due out in Spring 2013, according to their manager, who kindly took the time to reply to my enquiry this morning.

Obvs cake is not really the thing after such an event, so A of the K and I went in search of the customary post-gig kebab. This search was immediately abandoned when we remembered we were on Oxford Street, and so we opted for a filthy McDonald’s instead. I mean, Big Mac meal at 11pm on a Tuesday night, what can I say? A of the K’s food choice addressed the interesting theory of combining sweet (milkshake) with salt (cheeseburger) and it was agreed that this is a most pleasing taste sensation. Marmite chocolate probably represents the zenith of human achievement in this regard, but clearly this is not available in McDonald’s. During a conversation before the show, The Lady Carolina of France had wondered whether McD’s served wine, which we all agreed was a quite French idea, but not a bad one at all.

The homewards route was the same as the outbound one, and I arrived back at the flat feeling that I had been vey pleasantly entertained by the whole evening.  As I reviewed my free gifts from the gig (Minnie Birch badge and very nice business card) I noticed that Sure was still engrossed in the pig book and not at all offended that he’d missed out.

Goods

Thanks to my companions MinusTheMatt, Anna of the Karenina and The Lady C of F for a most lovely evening out.

1: Natural History Museum

Cromwell Road, London, SW7 5BD

www.nhm.ac.uk

Visited on Monday 26 November 2012

Citymapper app route plan

Today’s route was meant to have included a new bus - the no. 9, which runs between Aldwych and Hammersmith, and would for this journey have taken me from Green Park tube to Kensington High Street. However, most uncharacteristically, I found myself arriving in town half an hour early for the pre-culture meeting (1pm at High St Ken Wagamama with Charlie and Brother Neil) and so I decided to take a walk through Green Park itself and along the road where the 9 would go. This was in some ways a mistake – it took me aaaaaages and it was bloody freezing and raining, however I did get to have a proper look at some of the residences in the area (posh mansion blocks mainly) and noted the number of very large cars. These vehicular equivalents of gigantic tea cakes might protect the quaintly uniformed little darlings as you take them on the school run, but woe betide any unsteady old lady stepping off a pavement at the wrong moment.

So, ten minutes later than the arranged time, I arrived at Wagas feeling like I’d had a few lucky escapes while crossing roads. After a swift nose around Zara with Charlie, who had some choice tops to recommend for the new job wardrobe, we sat down with Brother Neil to enjoy our armadillos of rice, curry sauce and fried chicken (the classic Katsu – number 71 – of course). 

Sure gets stuck in

Over lunch we agreed on the strategy of dinosoars, the whale and taxidermied birds for our route around the Natural History Museum. Our walk there took us past the Gore Hotel, the scene of much revelry following the National Youth Orchestra’s BBC Prom in the summer (the most expensive sambuccas in the universe can be purchased there); and after negotiating yet more Chelsea Tractors and passing people on the street dressed for a splendid afternoon’s grouse shooting, we arrived at our cultural destination.

Companions in the foreground, diplodocus in the background

The Natural History Museum is perhaps most famous for its distinctive Romanesque architecture and the imposing diplodocus skeleton in its grand entrance hall. The dinosaurs exhibition contains many other skeletons (Brother Neil’s favourite was the Triceratops) (here’s a very nice song that makes use of that word in the opening lyrics), as well as several interactive pieces and stuff aimed at engaging young people. There is a metal walkway suspended from the ceiling that takes you through the middle of the room and affords a great view of some of the bigger pieces. It leads eventually to a rather cool robotic Tyrannosaurus Rex, though this is slightly spoiled by the same automated woman who announces the stops on buses telling you every 30 seconds to ‘keep moving down the ramp’. Following the exhibition round back to the main hall we learned a number of good facts:

·      A Pterodactyl is not a dinosaur, it’s a flying lizard

·      The Tyrannosaurus Rex was so heavy that if it had fallen over by accident while running at full pelt it probably would have died

·      Meat-eating dinosaurs grew teeth throughout their life to replace worn out ones

Proceeding to the awesome life-sized model of the blue whale, we also went past many stuffed mammals, including a grizzly bear and a real armadillo (not the katsu kind) that has the brilliant special move of being able to curl up into an almost impenetrable ball when threatened.  We learned a good fact about female deer (they do not have antlers, with the exception of the reindeer) and we also met a relative of Sure’s, which pleased his little brass face no end.

Give's a hug

Real folding armadillo

Boar and Sure

Moving on to the birds section, we enjoyed some models of different dodos (dodi? hm) as well as a pretty majestic-looking vulture, posed as if in full flight, and an excellent display of eggs, which was obviously quite thrilling for me (eggs are one of my favourite things).

Number 6 is a regular hen's egg

There’s a lot to see in this museum, and it’s all laid out very logically, as we noted from the particularly clear and well-designed map. (£1 donation to own). However, owing to that walking-pace one always adopts in a museum (very slow), we were by this point quite tired and decided to leave the rest for another time and move on to the café. This is situated just off the main entrance hall, and is in itself rather grand. 

Brother Neil enjoys a good hall

Lovely cafe ceiling

Good selection of cakes

The array of cakes was impressive and, as Brother Neil pointed out, there was ‘ample and comfortable seating’. Service was perfunctory but not actually rude, and three cakes plus two pots of tea came to £14.85, so it’s not cheap. We did feel that given this, the bendy plastic cutlery on offer was not really acceptable (though it did give rise to Brother Neil’s sagacious observation that ‘the pen is mightier than the plastic fork’). 

Unacceptable plasticware

Anyway, the teapots were a nice shape so we weren’t too miffed, and the surroundings were very pleasant indeed. Regarding the cake and tea:

1) Millionaire’s Shortcake with marbled chocolate top (Charlie)

“I’m really pleased with it. We have well-proportioned elements (biscuit, caramel and chocolate topping), the slice is a manageable size, it’s very aesthetically pleasing, and the caramel is chewy but not too gloopy. 8.5 out of 10.”

2) Chocolate fudge cake (Brother Neil)

“Mmmm, it’s dense. Good sponge-to-filling ratio. Generally speaking it’s a good bake with consistent edges. I’d give it 8 out of 10.” This was updated about 15 minutes later however: “I have detected unexpected dryness towards the end. I’d like to downgrade it to a 7.”

3) Traditional Bakewell tart (thepateface)

Disappointingly dry, but good flavours, and again well-proportioned elements. The texture does let it down though. 5.5 out of 10.

4) The tea (all of us, two pots being enough to go between three)

Brother Neil poured first and there was some minor drippage, though this was not the case when Charlie poured from the other pot. It was duly noted that Brother Neil’s technique might have been the cause of the issue. The tea itself was delicious and we were pleased with the ponciness of the teabags – they are the sort that you can use to put loose tealeaves into, thusly permitting their appropriate movement within, but not their invasion of, the water and leading to a nigh-on perfect brew. Very refreshing!

Poncey but very pleasing teabag device

The SHOP was the final part of the visit, and we were impressed by its size. It contains the usual items – stuffed toy dinosaurs, jigsaws, branded stationery, little polished rocks and lots of books. The postcard selection wasn't huge, but we all bought some very nice ones, and I also bought a lovely little book about pigs. By chance I flipped it open at page 72, on which there was a photo of a tin of Spam. Sure was not so pleased about that.

Following this very nice diversion and a general agreement that the Natural History Museum is a really good place to visit, we decided to conclude our excursion with a glass of wine at a pub near the tube station. By this time it was dark and we were delighted with the fairy lights in the trees outside the museum, and a pleasantly lit-up carousel. All very nice.

Outside the museum

Owing to the tiredness, I decided just to sit on the Piccadilly line all the way from South Kensington to Finsbury Park, even though this wasn’t the quickest route home. It was a strange journey. Firstly there were three 6- or 7-year-old girls dancing around the pole in the middle of the carriage and making a right old racket. Two of them were slight and very active, and the other was quite a bit larger. It was a rather sad moment when the two skinny ones pointed out that the other was ‘too fat to climb up the pole, cos you’re too heavy’ and her Dad had to step in and say ‘No, no, she’s just tall’… the poor girl stood back and let the other two get on with it, wearing a really quite heart-breaking, crushed half-smile on her face. Then a gigantic woman got on and sat beside me, muttering aggressively to herself and digging me repeatedly in the ribs. I tried to ignore it, but it all got very awkward when we pulled in to Covent Garden station – she ended up missing her stop because she couldn’t un-wedge herself from the seat in time and, worst of all, the little girls started pointing and laughing at her. Kids can be pretty cruel I suppose.

After a short wait at Finsbury Park, the good old 106 brought me home. This is a bus route operated by especially advanced drivers, the ones who have the special skill of judging that exact moment when you’re halfway down the stairs and you’ve lifted your hand off the upper rail to grab the lower one – at which point they slam on the brakes. It’s so annoying that it’s impressive. So I ended the day with what is likely to become a small bruise on my forehead, but very happy nonetheless. Thanks to my companions for a wonderful start to the culturecake project – Brother Neil, Charlie and Sure the pig. 

Thanks to the canx. Sure.

At this moment exactly four weeks ago I was sitting in a room with my boss, about to be canxed. That is to say, I was about to be notified that my job, owing to a management team restructure (fair enough), had been cancelled. I was to go immediately, leaving behind my office key and security pass, and taking with me my personal effects. This type of incident is known as a MASSIVE SURE.

However, it appears that every sure has the proverbial silver lining within. Since that time I have indulged in afternoon naps, watched spy dramas in the middle of the day, cleaned my apartment from top to bottom at a very leisurely pace and finally 'returned to sender' the gigantic pile of mail addressed to previous tenants that was in my hallway. And also, happily, I have found another job. It's a good one, and I'm really looking forward to doing it, but for now the very very very best thing about it is that it doesn't start until the third week of January. So, thanks to the canx I have two months of freedom.

Having sorted the job situation out I was then faced with the interesting question of what to do with my time. The answer came from a conversation with my cultural mentor, Brother Neil LRSB (acronym to be explained later). He drew up for me a quite splendid list of museums, galleries, stately homes, churches and other noteworthy places to visit in our fine capital city, and this blog is my journal of the experience. Today I have purchased a pin board and printed out a map. Over the weekend I will put together my schedule. And next week it shall begin. I am going to try to take bus routes I've never used before, visit exhibitions and buildings I've never been to, learn many things I didn't know, and eat some quality cake. My thoughts and some photos will appear here. I will be taking a very small companion with me too. Sure.