This weekend my band played No Way Records Fest in Richmond, Virginia. If No Way isn’t the biggest hardcore festival in the world then it’s certainly the coolest, gathering together an impeccably-curated collection of bands from all over the world for two days of hyper-speed tempos and drunken antics. My old band actually got invited to play No Way last year, but due to some miscommunication and confusion we stupidly turned it down, even though all three of us were there for the whole fest. Playing this year was a totally different experience from just attending last year… the days before the fest were spent frantically calling the pressing plant to get our records on time, trying to screen t-shirts (which I managed to screw up) and taking care of 1,000 other minor bits of band-related business. Once I made it to Richmond I was all nerves up until when we played, and when we were finally done I was so relieved that I found it hard to really enjoy the other bands.
Speaking of other bands, while I didn’t get to see the notorious Brain Handle and Annihilation Time sets on day one, my personal favorites were Reprobates, Wasted Time (with their all-new 2-guitar lineup! crushing!), Double Negative (some equipment problems, but they still ripped… “Saturation Tank” is the soundtrack to my inner world right now) and Timebombs (never heard them before and they busted out some sick Gang Green-meets-RKL punk). However, all the bands were really good and I saw so many old friends and acquaintances that I felt like I was at a punk rock family reunion.
As for the Logic Problem set, I think it went pretty well. We didn’t have the best time slot–we were the second band on Sunday afternoon, so everyone was still nursing hangovers when we took the stage–but we still ripped pretty hard I think, and if we’d played that set on a Saturday night I think it would have been pandemonium. People must have liked us judging by how quickly our records sold… we had 60 test pressings of our upcoming 7″ and we sold about 40 of them in 10 minutes on Saturday. We cut off sales so people could actually hear us play before buying the record, and we sold the other 20 copies in about 5 minutes after we finished our set. All in all I’d call it a success. Here’s a video of the first song of our set, “DSM-IV:”
Nick’s guitar is WAY out of tune by the time the song is done, but I love how fast we’re playing… it looks like the video is playing in fast motion, but I assure you that we are indeed playing that fast.
1. Reconnecting with old friends and making new ones. In addition to the obvious pleasures of spending time with cool people, there are two especially fun aspects of hanging out while travelling: 1) hearing non-Americans do American accents never gets old. 2) Listening to a wide assortment of Londoners taking the piss out of the US (good-naturedly, of course) is refreshing. Plus, I’m only half-Yank, so the jokes only half-apply to me.
2. The Fluxus happening at Tate Modern: as close as I’ll ever come to the 1960s. I had read a fair bit about Fluxus in art books and Beatle bios (because of the Ono connection), but the accounts I read completely failed to convey the feeling of being at one of these events, which I can describe only as pure joy. I’ve never felt so much positive energy in one (humongous) room before, and everyone was in on it—there was zero posturing or irony among the performers, just pleasure at creating something new. The minute you walked into the Turbine Hall you were enveloped in that enthusiasm and it was impossible to remain a detached observer. Alison Knowles, the artist behind “Make a Salad” (which, incidentally, Daniel liked a lot better than I did—my favorite was the concert) aptly explained Fluxus as having “nothing to do with the abstract and everything to do with the experiential.” While this approach to art means, sadly, that Fluxus is resistant to documentation and thus that exhibits like the permanent display in the Tate Modern seem fossilized and dull, I can testify that the movement is utterly successful when experienced in the flesh.
3. Liverpool. Still reigning supreme as “probably the best city in the world” (that was their motto the last time I visited), Liverpool added a new title this year: European Capital of Culture 2008. It also wins best sculpture in the world, in my opinion, with the bizzaro Beatles tribute that Daniel already blogged about. Since I have not yet achieved my long-standing goal of moving to Liverpool, I was excited to at least make my decennial pilgrimage to this holy land. Daniel is inexplicably uninterested in visiting every site mentioned in a Beatles song or affiliated with the lives of the Beatles, so we concentrated on the excellent museums. But the best part of the trip was simply being in the city, listening to Scouse accents (the most beautiful accents in the world—another accolade for Liverpool), smelling the salt air along the Mersey, watching the sun set over the elegant and distinctive architecture, and walking in the footsteps of giants.
4. Running on Hampstead Heath every sunny day (probably about 1 in 6) and in Highgate Wood on the days when it wasn’t nice enough to go over to the heath (there’s a fine line between meadows and marsh). The views of Highgate and London from the heath are supremely beautiful, and running through the open meadows made me feel like Wordsworth following his wandering cloud. It has absolutely spoiled me for running the Bolin Creek trail in Carrboro. Kenwood House and grounds (adjacent to the heath and also open to joggers) were a wonderful surprise, with gorgeous gardens and expansive lawns gently sloping down to a large pond. Highgate Wood didn’t have any views but it was a lovely park with tons of wildlife, particularly birds.
5. Eating! I could do a separate top 11 detailing the amazing food we had, but I’ll just mention a few stand-outs: aubergine curry at Maharajah in Liverpool; mutton roti from Jerk City; Sri Lankan feast from Galla Cafe; mutton passanda at the Indian restaurant in Shepherd’s Bush; eggs Benedict at the Table; and cream tea at, well, anywhere, really, but particularly the Orangery. On a related note, I also quite enjoyed getting to drink my favorite cocktail, vodka and lemonade, instead of the vaguely similar American substitute (vodka Collins) I usually have to settle for since Schweppes Lemonade is unavailable in the US.
6. Jay Reatard and the Shitty Limits at the Manor House warehouse. One of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time, it almost made me forget how old and decrepit I am (and thus why I don’t go to shows anymore). Times New Viking’s set at the Proud Gallery and the Night Marchers’ set at Dirty Water were excellent as well, but I was feeling decidedly less sprightly at those after standing around for 4 hours.
7. “You Dig the Tunnel, I’ll Hide the Soil” at Whitecube Gallery in Hoxton. This is one of the few things I did in London that might count as work, if one were being extremely generous with the definition of “work.” In my dissertation I try to explain where the mythos that casts Poe as a tortured genius comes from, and in this exhibit the best pieces did the same thing, reinjecting Poe’s sardonic humor and supercilious style back into the more-familiar macabre trappings. The crypt-like basement where many of the pieces were displayed functioned in a similar way to the Gothic elements in Poe’s writing: as a mesmerizing vessel for the artist’s radical experimentation. Even the less-successful pieces, which assumed rather than interrogated Poe’s Gothicism, were interesting for their foreign perspective on an American writer who has always attracted international attention.
8. Sir John Soane House. I initially ventured into this free museum on one of the hotter days we had in London. Walking from the British Library to the Strand, I started to get a bit warm and checked my map to see if there was anywhere nearby to take a break and get out of the sun. The Soane House was more or less on my way, so I turned off of Kingsway and walked down Lincoln’s Inn Fields, not knowing what to expect. When I arrived at number 13 there were 20 people queueing out front and I was about to scrap the whole plan when the charming guard who was manning the line called out to me and told me not to worry, the line moves quickly and I would be inside in no time. He was right, and I’m very glad he detained me because the Soane House turned out to be one of my favorite London sights. I insisted that Daniel come back with me as soon as possible and he also loved it. I won’t describe it in detail because the pleasure of the experience stems from the surprise and the sense of discovery you feel as you wind your way through this idiosyncratic 19th-century house, filled to bursting with a mish-mash of antiquities, paintings, and architectural models. I’ll just say that visiting the Soane House feels like being in a Miyazaki movie—and, really, what more could you ask from a museum?
9. Parks and picnics. London is chock-a-block with green space and the residents take full advantage of this blessing. Even on gloomy days the parks were well-populated, but on glorious days they were hives of activity. I spent several happy afternoons reading in the sun in Hyde Park or Kenwood Gardens, glancing up every once in a while to watch a few minutes of the pick-up soccer games going on around me. We were in London long enough to see quite a swath of flowers blooming in the parks, from the bluebells and daffodils when I arrived in April, through the rhododendra, hyacinths, irises, and hydrangeas of May, to the roses and poppies just before we left in June. Often while Daniel was working at the British Library, I would go off exploring and then we’d meet up at various parks for a picnic lunch. My favorite of our picnics, though, was the one we bought at Borough Market and ate in Notting Hill. The market was a sensory delight and the food was fresh, simple, and delicious.
10. Listening to classical music at St. Martin in the Fields and Westminster Abbey. Daniel and I always visit more than our fair share of churches and temples on our trips even though we’re neither of us religious. I’m drawn to these buildings because of the architecture and the art, but once I’m inside them I’m inevitably moved by the ability of these spaces to affect one’s way of being in the world, to make one slow down and contemplate. That’s what they are designed for, after all, but when you’re being herded through on a tour you don’t get to savor that feeling, as you would if you were attending a service. Concerts are the perfect solution for Daniel and me, giving us a chance to meditate and allow the space to work its carefully-crafted magic on us without intruding our non-believing selves into a religious observance. The settings for these concerts heightened the intensity of the listening experience, particularly at St. Martin, and I felt like I was hearing the music more fully and profoundly than I ever have before.
11. Museums. With the dollar atrophying against the pound, two things kept us from going into serious debt on this trip: the unexpected direct deposit of our economic stimulus payment from the IRS (which we promptly used to stimulate the British economy—thank you, US government!) and the fact that nearly all of the museums and galleries in London are free. Not only are they free to enter, but many of them offer free tours as well. While Daniel was hard at work in the British Library, I completed the set of gallery tours at the British Museum (no mean feat) and then branched out to the Victoria & Albert and several others. After getting an overview of the museum on the tour, I could go back and spend time with the art and objects that were particularly meaningful to me—the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum, the Francis Bacon room at Tate Britain, the Wilton Diptych and Monaco’s “Coronation of the Virgin” at the National Gallery, the illuminated manuscripts at the Wallace Collection. This leisurely pace is the perfect way to take in these astonishingly rich collections without burning out.
We’re getting near the end here… tomorrow is our last day of actually getting to do stuff in London as I’ll be leaving first thing Thursday morning. My feelings are decidedly mixed, but there are plenty of things I’m looking forward to in the first 2 weeks I’m home, including listening to all the records I bought, band practice, No Way Fest, Kelly’s sister’s wedding, a 5-day trip to the Outer Banks and plenty of simple pleasures I’ve really missed like working out, having a car and cooking with an oven.
After writing my last post, Kelly and I went out to Regent’s Park to see a production of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. While it would have been a bit gauche to take pictures during the performance, I did manage to snap this pic of the set before it started:
The production was ok… the characters were all in 1930s costumes and the acting was very uneven, but it was still enjoyable. The play started at 8PM and went until about 11, so the sun gradually set as we watched… somehow intermission managed to fall at that exact moment between dusk and dark, so when we came back for the final two acts it was like we were in a different venue. Fun stuff.
I can’t remember when, exactly, this was taken, but a few days ago we tried this new Cadbury candy called “Twisted” (not Twiztid), which takes the standard Cadbury creme egg format (which they sell year-round here… we poor Americans only get it around Easter) and turns it into a candy bar. While I’m a big creme egg fan, I have to say Twisted didn’t really hit the spot as they managed to throw off the delicate chocolate-to-filling ratio.
Friday was devoted mostly to tying up some loose ends with my work at the British Library, a task I sadly didn’t manage to finish despite working like an academic John Henry right up until the reading rooms closed. After a quick dinner at a tasty vegetarian / vegan restaurant called Beatroot in Soho, we headed out to Tufnell Park to see Night Marchers, the new band featuring John Reis from Hot Snakes / Rocket from the Crypt / Drive Like Jehu, etc. There were supposed to be two opening bands, neither of which I’d heard (or even heard of), but a surprise opener was added at the last moment… the Nipple Erectors! Yes, THE Nipple Erectors! I had no idea they were back in the saddle, but apparently they’ve played a few shows since their first comeback gig in May.
Well, don’t get too excited, because there’s a catch. While Shane Macgowan turned up for the band’s earlier shows, they played tonight without him. Subbing was the daughter of Shanne, the bass player, who had to read the words off sheets of paper as she sang them:
Needless to say, this wasn’t that exciting. In fact, since I didn’t know they were even supposed to play, I kept wondering to myself “why does this band keep playing old Nips songs… don’t they know any other covers?” Eventually I sussed out what was going on, which is not to say I made sense of it. Strangely, after an entire set of Nips classics (including “Gabrielle,” “So Pissed Off,” and pretty much all their other big songs) they started playing the intro to “Six Pack” by Black Flag, but instead of playing the whole song they just played the intro riff over and over while the singer kind of rapped over top of it. The closed with the singer very shyly playing one of her own songs. Unless this was a particularly dodgy gig, I’d say the only reason to see this spectacle is if you wanted to buy one of the admittedly snazzy t-shirts they had for sale in the back.
Up next was a Liverpool band called Fraktures and they were pretty cool, straight up 60s worship with an electronic organ and everything. Music Machine and Sonics comparisons are inevitable, but they were a lot looser than even those bands. I really liked their first few songs and their cover of “Boredom” by the Buzzcocks, but I think Kelly would have preferred just to hear them talk the entire time. She looks like she’s about to melt every time she hears a scouser accent.
After Fraktures was another band called the Drellas who I wasn’t too into… they played what I’d call “weird punk,” and seeing them is probably about what it would have been like to see your favorite Killed by Death band live back in the day, i.e. one or two scorchers with the rest of the 45-minute set filled out with stuff that’s either too artsy or just too boring.
Finally, after making us wait for just long enough that I was a little aggravated and cranky, Night Marchers took the stage. Last time I saw a John Reis live was with Hot Snakes 4 or 5 years ago, and with that band he faded into the background to concentrate on his propulsive rhythm guitar. Well, if you missed the smart-ass “Speedo” schtick from the Rocket from the Crypt days it’s back in full force with Night Marchers. If you never saw RFTC, the between-song-banter sounded like it was being delivered by the most jaded Vegas veteran, someone who knows full well that as long as you keep that big, ridiculous smile plastered across your face you can say whatever you want, whether it’s going off on long, non-sensical rants or insulting the audience right to their faces.
The stage banter was a throwback to the RFTC days, but in terms of the music Night Marchers is very fresh-sounding. To me, it sounded like all the best parts Reis’s previous bands, most specifically the noodly, complex guitar lines of Hot Snakes and the gigantic, instantly-memorable choruses of RFTC. I came in with relatively low expectations and I have to say I was floored… I can’t wait to pick up their LP when I get home.
Saturday morning we headed out to Camden Town to see an exhibition of photographs of Sid Vicious at the Proud Gallery. On the way we stopped and walked through Camden Market, something I’d managed to avoid doing for my entire trip. I ended up buying a jacket, though it made approximately zero sense to do so at this point. Did I buy a jacket when it was still snowing outside and I was forced to wear multiple sweaters whenever I left the flat? Of course not. Instead, I brilliantly waited until the week before I leave, when the weather here finally breaks 70 degrees farenheit and I’m about to head home to 100-degree heat. Genius. Anyway, the photo exhibition was exactly what it said… pictures of Sid Vicious… nothing to get too excited about. However, in the adjacent gallery they were having another exhibition of celebrity photographs and Kelly fell in love with a photographer called Andrew Cotterill, so it was definitely worth the trip to find out about him.
Saturday evening Kelly’s mom was making a one-night-only appearance in London, so we went out to Shepherd’s Bush for dinner with her and Jenni. We went back to the awesome Indian restaurant near Jenni’s place and it was once again mind-blowing… here’s the spread:
The conversation was as good as the food… we had a great time hearing all about their trip to Italy and all of their crazy antics. On the tube ride home Kelly was feeling a little camera-happy (read: probably a little drunk) and took these shots:
Sunday was a big day, devoted mostly to one of Kelly’s favorite aspects of British and Australian culture: cream tea. If you’ve never had cream tea, it involves tea (duh!), a scone (usually a fruit scone), jam (usually strawberry) and this substance called either Cornish clotted cream (which seems to be the British name) or Devonshire cream (which seeems to be the Australian name). Wow, that sentence had a lot of parentheticals. Anyway, this clotted cream substance is somewhere between whipped cream and butter, with the sweetness of the former and the heavy, fatty texture of the latter. I like it just fine, but it’s so sweet that I feel like I’m going into a diabetic coma after two bites. Kelly, on the other hand, would probably prefer to shovel it into her mouth with a spatula.
The venue for this afternoon’s cream tea was the Orangery at Kensington Palace, which was, simply, awesome. It was a perfect summer day and the orangery’s giant windows were flung wide open to let in all the sun and breeze… the fact that every surface in the place is meticulously whitewashed only added to the feeling of fanciness.
Kelly went with the standard routine described above, while I had a piece of Victoria spongecake and a pot of rosehip and hibiscus tea. Delicious!
You may not be able to tell, but Kelly is about to burst with excitement as she prepares to devour this specimen:
Unfortunately I was starting to catch a cold, so while Kelly went to the Tate Britain I headed home, making a brief detour to Minus Zero Records, a shop just off Portobello Road that I’d managed to miss on all of my previous trips to the area (thanks for the tip, Josh!). Minus Zero is a collector’s dream shop, sort of like Discourage in Portland. The walls are plastered with Killed by Death rarities at astronomical prices and the behind-the-counter bins that you have to ask to see are like treasure chests or miniature punk museums. In addition to seeing some cool records I will mostly likely never own, I picked up copies of the Saints’ One Two Three Four EP and the Gagize flexi… who would’ve thought I’d find a rare 80s Japanese punk flexi in London? The owner, Bill, was a super nice guy as well and I hope he didn’t mind me sweating all over his records as by this time I was feeling a bit woozy from my illness and the heat.
Monday we returned once more to the British Museum to take a tour of the Enlightenment Gallery. We’d tried to do this a while back but the tour was cancelled last-minute, so we were happy that this tour actually happened. As I mentioned before, the British Museum’s guided tours are fun and extremely informative, and this one was no different. It also had the benefit of concentrating almost exactly on the period I’ve been researching since I’ve been here, so I got to see lots of artifacts associated with figures I’ve been writing about.
After the museum we made one last trip to one of our culinary highlights, Hummus Bros. Once again we ate in Bedford Square and for some reason Kelly was feeling camera-happy again (though this time alcohol was not involved). She insisted that I model various expressions for her… I think this one is “perturbed:”
From there Kelly went off to explore the Wallace Collection while I finally finished up my work at the British Library. It was quite a relief to wrap things up there, but I will miss the extremely comfortable working space and the seemingly limitless resources of the BL.
For Monday night’s dinner we finally managed to catch the 2-for-1 dinner deal at the fancy burger place in Muswell Hill, the next town over from East Finchley. We learned about this deal at least a month ago, but we’ve been otherwise engaged every single Monday until now. The burgers were delicious, but having gotten used to much smaller meal portions, I felt like Humpty Dumpty after eating a 1/2-pound burger and a side of onion rings. So, we decided to take a long walk to burn off some of those calories. On the way we passed this pub, which I’ve been meaning to talk about on the blog for some time. This place is just about a block and a half down the road from my apartment, and it’s the pub where the Kinks played their very first show (the Davies’ brothers also grew up on this street).
Here’s a picture of Kelly at the end of our street:
We had a long, lovely stroll that took us deep into the neighborhoods around us, so deep that we even stopped seeing bus stops, which is remarkable since the buses here seem to go just about everywhere. For some reason when we got home Kelly snapped this pic of the flat, which is in just about it’s exact average state of messiness:
Today was a big day. We got up early and headed out to Westminster, an area of London that we’ve managed not to see all that much of despite the fact that it’s a major tourist area. First we went inside Westminster Abbey, which cost Kelly a hefty 12 pounds because she forgot her student ID. I got in for 9 because I am an adult and I carry a wallet wherever I go. Before we went in we snapped a few pics of the Abbey’s incredible exterior:
While you couldn’t take photos inside the Abbey, there were a few courtyards within the Abbey’s grounds where you could take some cool pictures:
Gotta love flying buttresses:
Like the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey is one of those tourist traps that you just have to see anyway. Seriously, where else are you going to see one of the finest examples of English gothic architecture (including the unique perpendicular gothic style), the chair on which basically every British monarch has been coronated, the tombs of a whole gaggle of monarchs including Elizabeth I as well as the tombs of countless literary and scientific figures like Newton, Darwin, Jane Austen, John Dryden, Samuel Johnson… I could go on and on. I’m not often in awe of standing in a historically significant setting, but trodding upon the remains of almost every one of my favorite 18th-century poets was something else.
Up next was a walking tour of Westminster, but first we ate a quick lunch in Parliament Square, the little patch of grass from which (I’d be willing to bet) 95% of postcard images of Big Ben are taken. Kelly, not being content simply to take a nice picture of Big Ben, got ambitious and tried to make the ultimate London photographic composition. Here it is, containing a monument to Winston Churchill, Big Ben and two double decker buses:
I also had some tasty black currant juice with my lunch… not a very common juice in America.
Our guided tour started just outside the Houses of Parliament and ambled around them slowly as the guide explained the long and complicated history of the site. I’m sure all of the information she threw at us eventually will fade from my memory, but these views of Westminster’s brilliant neo-gothic architecture will be with me for some time:
While the tour concentrated mostly on Westminster Hall and Westminster Abbey, the guide did take us down a couple of really beautiful, quiet streets full of these lovely Georgian townhouses. Not only do I love this style of architecture, but also streets like this give me ample opportunity to picture the 18th-century London that I spend my days studying and writing about.
This photo is for my buddy Matt Lavallee, who collects old metal fallout shelter signs. Most of these old townhouses have cellars, which the owners opened up as air raid shelters during WWII. Directions to the cellar were stenciled on the wall and many of them survive:
Eventually the tour arrived back at Westminster Abbey, and by this time what few clouds were in the sky had completely evaporated:
The plan after this was to view the parliamentary debates, but when we heard there was a 90-minute wait for this we decided to attend the evensong service at Westminster Abbey. As we were waiting to be let back into the Abbey I saw this guy coming out of the chapel wearing some kind of black metal band t-shirt with a giant pentagram on the back. I found the disjunction amusing, so I took a picture:
If you don’t want to or can’t pay the hefty admission fee to tour the entire abbey, you can go to one of these services for free, and in addition to seeing the nave and the high altar you get to hear the Westminster Boys’ Choir sing the psalms, which is something to behold. The service is only about 35 minutes long and there isn’t any evangelizing or anything sketchy, just a chance to sit quietly and see Westminster Abbey actually being used as a church rather than a museum.
After the service the queue at Parliament had finally died down so we got our tickets and went inside. The Commons were debating an anti-terrorism bill and the Lords were debating an education bill, and both chambers had about 25 people maximum in them. The members who spoke droned on as if they were reading the phonebook, but it was still interesting to see, particularly the rather opulent House of Lords chamber.
While I couldn’t take pictures of the chambers themselves, I did manage to snap these pictures of Westminster Hall, the oldest part of the palace (yes, Westminster is still designated as a royal palace even though the monarch does not reside there). Somehow managing to avoid the multiple fires that destroyed every other part of the building, this part dates from the 11th century.
Here is the magnificent hammer beam roof, the largest such roof in Europe, spanning 69 feet:
That’s all for now. Barring an unexpected and significant stretch of downtime tomorrow, this is probably the last entry that I will post from London, but hopefully once I get home I can find enough internet time to document days 71 and 72.
Somewhere in the midst of the period this post covers I passed the two-month mark for my time in London. As you might expect, this milestone seemed rather insignificant in practice, though it did cause me to reflect on the fact that I’ve been here an awfully long time. As I write this post I have exactly one week left in London, and I’m starting to miss it pre-emptively. There are so many things left to do and to see, and so many events that I’ll miss. I guess this separation anxiety is to be expected, but usually I’m the type who can’t wait to get home… I always feel like I need to be somewhere I’m not currently at. However, I guess I’ve been here long enough that London does feel like home, and that’s exactly what I wanted when I planned this trip.
Anyway, back to the documentation. Thursday morning our friend Leslie left for her trip out to the lake district, but before her train left all of us headed out to the British Museum. Kelly had visited it several times already, but this is the first time I’d been inside despite the fact that I was reading a book about the history of the museum before I left home. I wish I could’ve brought that book with me, but it was a ridiculously big hardcover that probably would have singlehandedly gotten me stuck with an excess baggage charge. We started by looking at the Elgin Marbles, of course, and while Kelly liked them a lot I can’t say that they did too much for me. They’re so wrecked that it’s hard to appreciate whatever artistic merit they might have once had, so you’re left either to marvel at how old they are (which isn’t that impressive since there are hundreds of items in the museum that are MUCH older) or contemplate the transitory nature of art and human achievement. Snoozefest. I say give ‘em back to Greece and put something halfway interesting in that giant room.
We also took a short tour of the gallery of Japanese art, which was totally awesome. I was particularly impressed with the samurai outfit… is there anything more bad-ass than a samurai in full regalia?
After the tour we said our goodbyes to Leslie. She stayed at the Museum and had lunch at the cafe there, but we went on the hunt for something cheaper and tastier. After consulting our notes we headed down the street to Hummus Bros., which was AWESOME… easily one of the best meals I’ve had in London. Not only that, but it was pretty darn cheap, had very generous portions and the restaurant even had free wi-fi (though we chose to eat out in the sun at Bedford Square). I highly recommend this place if you’re after a cheap and filling lunch near the British Museum. I had the hummus topped with barbecue pork:
And Kelly had some kind of middle eastern blend with feta, olives, etc.:
Man, my mouth is watering just thinking about all that tasty hummus…
Friday the plan was to head back to the British Museum to take guided tours of the ancient Greek and Enlightenment galleries. However, BOTH tours got canceled. Frustratingly, there was no advance notice that the tours were canceled… the docents just didn’t show up. So, in both occasions there were crowds of people gathered around the meeting point while security guards took 20 minutes to tell us that the tour wasn’t going to happen. So, since we were in the museum anyway we looked at the mummies, which I must say were pretty awesome. The mummies are one of the most interesting parts of the museum because there is decent signage explaining Egyptian history and how the embalming process evolved over the centuries (it’s also cool because withered, three-thousand-year-old dead bodies are pretty cool to look at). Too much of the British Museum is plagued by thin-to-non-existent signage that tells you barely anything about what you’re looking at. This seems like a cheap ploy to get you to buy one of the many guidebooks to the museum for sale in the massive gift shop.
After exhausting the mummies’ interest we went for lunch at a falafel place called “Just Falafs” in Covent Garden. No pictures of this and you’re not missing much because our sandwiches were unremarkable. Also, eating at the piazza in Covent Garden is undesirable even under the best of circumstances because you constantly have to shoo away the pigeons who are scrambling for any tiny crumbs that you might drop.
After lunch we went to an AWESOME museum called the John Soane House. Soane was a prominent architect who worked mostly at the beginning of the 19th century and is most famous for designing the Bank of England. He was also a collector of art and antiquities and he set up his house as a museum to display his collection. Thankfully, Soane bequeathed the house to the city of London upon his death on the condition that they operate it as a free public museum. While those crazy Victorians made a bunch of changes, the current philosophy is to get the museum back to its appearance during Soane’s lifetime, so nowadays it looks like a well-preserved late Georgian residence. The art collection is also phenomenal, the highlight being several original Hogarth oils. However, the coolest part of the museum is just being there… Soane, being an architect, came up with all kinds of crazy contrivances to display as much of his collection as possible, so many of the house’s interior spaces are like nothing I’ve ever seen. Enough description, though… just go there if you’re ever in London. It’s free and one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
That night Kelly and I had planned to see Armitage Shanks and a few other garage punk-type bands in North London, but by the time we got back home she was feeling sick. Since our big trip to Liverpool was coming up, she decided to stay in and rest. While looking up info about the Armitage Shanks show on the internet, I discovered that this weekend was the North London Punx Picnic, a four-day festival with gigs every night. Tonight’s show included a Finnish band called Kansalaisttelmettomus, so I headed out to the show despite the fact that it was already pretty late. The first band up when I arrived were Constant State of Terror from Brighton. The singer did a really good impression of Cal from Discharge, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the music was a total shambles. Not a shambles in a good, Chaos UK kind of way either… just a mess. Either the drummer couldn’t hear any of the guitars or he was playing some of the most bizarre nonsense beats I’ve ever heard in my life. I’m sure it would have been fun if the crowd were into it, but there were 50 people oustide drinking while about 15 people stood utterly still in front of the band. Here’s a pic of Constant State of Terror:
The headlining band, Kansalaisttelmettomus, were up next. Though they’re from Finland, their singer is the guy from Oi Polloi, which was one of the things that prompted me to attend since I’ve been listening to a lot of anarcho punk lately. Well, Kansalaisttelmettomus failed to deliver either shambolic anarcho punk or raging Finnish hardcore… instead they sounded like the most boring 90s crust punk band you could possibly imagine. If they had played Twisters in Richmond in 1998, Rasp would have opened, the Tribal War Records distro would have been set up in the back of the club and I would have been bored out of my mind then, too. They also had some of the most half-assed lyrics I’ve ever heard. Between songs the singer would talk in this weird game show host voice and say things like “this song is called ‘DIY,’ and it’s about doing it yourself.” While most of the topics were simply boring, my favorite was the anti-globalization song, which was rather weird coming from a bunch of Finnish musicians fronted by a Brit.
Saturday morning Kelly woke up feeling even worse, so I met up with my friends Josh and Hannah to see the exhibition of graffiti taking place in a tunnel underneath Waterloo train station. I’m not sure why, but I was expecting typical tagger-type graffiti, but this was more high-market, fine-art stuff a la Banksy with lots of stencils and heavy-handed political content. Here are a few of my favorite pieces:
After the exhibition we all had coffee until the place kicked us out, then we went and had a delicious lunch at Beatroot in Soho. I’m sure Hannah was bored stiff by the never-ending, mile-a-minute talk about records, records and more records, but I had a great time. After lunch we did a quick browse of the shops in Soho and I found a handful of Crass Records 7″s at the shop that used to be called Reckless Records (I can’t remember it’s new name). Sister Ray also had mint-y copies of all 5 Subhumans EPs, but at 8 pounds each they were too expensive for me… too bad because I would have bought those if they were a bit cheaper.
After staying in Saturday night, Kelly and I headed out for some shopping at Spitalfields Market in East London. Our guidebook dubbled Spitalfields the best market in London, and I’m almost certain it was a woman who wrote that review because the market consists almost entirely of women’s clothing. I think it used to be a more standard market, but a few years ago they upgraded the facilities, taking away much of the market stall space and putting in more permanent retail and restaurant shop fronts. The relatively few remaining market stalls cater pretty strictly to an upmarket audience. While there wasn’t much there for me to browse, Kelly found a really cool suit that she bought directly from the designer… she was extremely excited about the purchase and I must say that she looked fabulous in it. However, I don’t have a picture because the finished product will be mailed to us once we get home. Anyway, here’s the mob scene at Spitalfields:
Sunday night I headed out to the fourth and final night of the Punx Picnic. After Friday’s show was so dreadful I was scared off of Saturday, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Raw Power play the last set of the fest. Josh met me there and while we spent most of the time drinking beer in front of the supermarket next door, we did manage to see some of the opening bands.
First up were Dog’s Abuse from Scotland, who did a pretty competent Chaos UK imitation. The drummer didn’t have high-hats OR a ride cymbal. Instead, every song had the same tribal-style, tom-heavy beat, though occasionally he would smash the crash cymbal on his far right. As on Friday, the crowd reaction was heavily lacking… I was the closest person to the band and I was still a solid 20 feet away.
When we next came in the club the Extinguishers were in the middle of their set. The first thing I heard was a raging crust punk part that sounded like Framtid with heavy, driving drums and thick, ultra-distorted guitar. As they built to a crescendo I got ready to pump my fist for the anthemic chorus, but unfortunately they dropped straight into a ska part. Bummer. They were clearly teenagers, though, so I’m sure they’ll figure things out eventually.
The last band before Raw Power was Bickle’s Cab from Sheffield, who were the first band of the fest who I would describe as pretty good. They had a heavy crust sound that betrayed a distinct Tragedy influence, but the vocals were powerful and the guitar playing was notable… the guy had a noisy, Bob Mould-esque style with lots of open chords, which sounded awesome with the heavy distortion. Good stuff.
Raw Power were next, and honestly I expected them to be really bad… however, checking out their set list before they took the stage I allowed myself to get a little excited:
Sure enough, they leaped out of the gate with “Raw Power” and followed it up with a handful of other hits from You Are the Victim and Screams from the Gutter. While the singer didn’t have much energy, the rest of the band was ripping it hard, particularly the drummer… for the first time at either of the shows I attended, the Punx Picnic had a bit of energy in the room.
The singer kept this same posture for the ENTIRE show:
After that initial slew of hits, there was a LONG period in the middle of the set (easily half an hour, probably more) where the band concentrated on later material. Not only did the crowd fail to respond to these songs, but also the band played them as if it was a chore rather than a pleasure. In an utterly bizarre move for an Italian hardcore band that has been playing since the early 80s, they also covered “Territorial Pissings” by Nirvana. Anyway, after sucking every drop of energy from the room they finished up with another batch of songs I was stoked to hear, with “Fuck Authority” the definite highlight. Really, the closing “State Oppression” should have been the peak, but the band kind of messed it up. Oh well, I’ll cut them some slack since they’ve only been playing that one for 25 years. I’m sure they’ll nail it at the 50th anniversary show.
Monday morning was the big trip to Liverpool! We boarded the bus at 10:30 and due to some traffic problems arrived in Liverpool about 5:30. Our hostel was really nice… easily one of the best hostels I’ve ever stayed in. I’m not sure why they don’t just put TVs in the room, provide towels and soap, call themselves a hotel and charge double what they’re charging now. Maybe they’re in it for the right reasons… who knows.
After dropping our things off at the hostel we started to walk around Liverpool in search of dinner. My first impression was that Liverpool is very different than London… I expected something dim, industrial and northern, and I guess that’s what I got, though there wasn’t much evidence of industry in the downtown area we walked around. While the city seems to be on an upswing thanks to being named European Capital of Culture for 2008, it still feels a little like a half-dead city a la Baltimore or Pittsburgh. However, just like those cities Liverpool proved to be very interesting once you did a bit of digging.
Here’s a cathedral that was right down the street from our hostel… I found it weird that there’s no interior… it’s just these outside walls with open space in the middle:
We went to dinner at an Indian restaurant that had been recommended by the receptionist at our hostel. Apparently chef Gordon Ramsay (who you might know from Hell’s Kitchen in the US) dined there recently and gave it a rave review, because newspaper articles that mention his remarks are all over the front of the building. We went for two curry dishes, one with chicken and one with eggplant, which the Brits call aubergine:
The chicken curry was good, but the aubergine curry was FANTASTIC, one of the most unique and interesting flavors that has ever entered my mouth. I would have been quite happy to have this dish for every meal in Liverpool.
After dinner we walked around a little more before the sun finally set. Here’s a pic of the awesome area of museums in the north part of town, which includes the Walker Art Gallery that we visited a few days later:
Tuesday morning we got up early and headed down to Albert Dock, where the plan was to visit the new International Slavery Museum and the Tate Liverpool. The view up and down the Mersey from the docks was spectacular:
And here’s a few of the middle of Albert Dock:
The Slavery Museum was very interesting. While we saw a similar exhibit at the Maritime Museum in Greenwich, this had enough unique material to make visiting both worthwhile. What I really liked was the way the curators made an effort to explore the economic impact of slavery through the centuries. Not only did the west get rich off of slave labor, but also Africa’s economy was stunted due to having its most capable laborers shipped overseas for over 200 years, the effects of which can still be felt today. That’s in addition to the legacy of racism that has consistently allowed Africans fewer opportunities than the Europeans who inhabited the countries where they were taken. It was a lot to chew on, but it was never grim… in fact, the dominant tone was one of celebration for those who led noteworthy lives despite the institution of slavery and everything that sprang from it.
After the Slavery Museum we went to lunch at a little vegetarian restaurant that I’ve forgotten the name of. The place had your typical “funky” decorations of brightly-painted, mis-matched furniture that is now typical of this type of establishment, but unfortunately the food was pretty lame. I ordered something called a “spicy burger,” which turned out to be falafel with some kind of red chili / tomato sauce:
While this was merely bland, Kelly’s limp quiche, unfortunately, was pretty bad. Oh well, you can’t win ‘em all.
Walking back to Albert Dock to check out the Tate Liverpool, we passed this graffiti, which apparently portrays a zombie Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band:
The permanent collection at the Tate Liverpool was, as you might expect, quite good. It was divided into 2 floors, each of which told the history of 20th-century art with a different focus. The first floor told the story from a figurative perspective, concentrating on the portrayal of the human figure from Degas until the conceptual artists of the late 20th century. The second floor was formalist, telling a story of how 20th-century artists questioned the nature of picture, space and representation in their work. Good stuff all around.
After the Tate we attempted to walk along the docks, but unfortunately the construction of the new LIverpool Museum got in our way. Here’s a picture of Kelly by the Mersey:
And here’s a cool statue of Billy Fury outside the Tate Liverpool:
This is the Royal Liver Building and the bird on the top is one of the symbols of Liverpool:
From there we walked back into town toward the district that once contained the Cavern Club. On the way we passed Liverpool’s elegantly-weathered City Hall:
While the original Cavern Club was torn down in the 70s, there are now TWO establishments in the street laying claim to the name, one of which was built using the bricks from the old club. Also on the street is this utterly, utterly bizarre monument to the Beatles:
Kelly is endlessly fascinated by this statue. Aside from perhaps shipping, the Beatles are the chief industry of Liverpool, and when the city builds a monument to them they decide to go with the proposal involving a decrepit zombie Virgin Mary holding what appears to be a gaggle of dead babies? There is simply no accounting for this decision by any conventional means. Thankfully, though, below it there is a more conventional statue of John Lennon, albeit with an extremely large head:
After a lackluster dinner of Chinese food, we walked around the city some more, checking out the two large cathedrals that dominate the city’s skyline. The first is this massive neo-gothic structure:
You may not notice the full-size tour bus at the bottom of the frame, but I encourage you to use it as a point of comparison. This is one MASSIVE church, and it’s quite beautiful even aside from its size. Unfortunately it was closed, but we walked all around it and took in the elaborate brick and stone work.
While walking down to the other cathedral we passed the Liverpool Institute of Art where John Lennon and Stuart Sutcliffe studied painting:
Eventually we arrived at the other cathedral, which is an ultra-modern structure:
I really liked the building, particularly the way it incorporated aspects of older gothic architecture into its design in surprising ways. The large buttresses around the bottom, for instance, seem like a nod to the flying buttresses of Notre Dame and other landmarks of gothic architecture, while these doors seem like a playful take on the giant gilded doors like Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise in Florence:
The two cathedrals are connected by a 3 or 4-block stretch of Hope Street, and looking down the street from one cathedral to the other is a gorgeous view:
Wednesday morning was devoted to the Walker Art Gallery, though I must admit that by this time I was experiencing museum fatigue. Still, the museum’s collection was very interesting, and it was great to see Hogarth’s famous portrait of 18th-century actor David Garrick playing Richard III. They also had a solid collection of contemporary art… here are Kelly’s favorite 2 pieces from that section:
Thanks to slightly more comfortable seats, the bus ride home to London seemed a lot quicker than the ride out to Liverpool. While the trip was uneventful, as we made our way through north London we did pass another addition to our collection of chicken restaurants with random American place names:
Tonight’s plan is to see Twelfth Night in Regent’s Park, which should be a great time if the weather holds up. Thinking about what to do in these next 7 days, I’m struck by the indecision that comes with having too many things you want to do and not enough time to do them. I guess that means I’m back in vacation mode.
