Cardiff in the Sun

I was surprised when I got to the Hilton yesterday prior to the Cardiff half marathon. It was heaving! I thought it was my crafty little secret to nip in pre-start, visit the toilet a few dozen times, get a coffee, visit the toilet again etc. Many many people had cottoned on to the fact but I still had enough time for a coffee (fourth of the morning) and a toilet visit. Of course that didn’t stop me needing a slash as I walked to the start pen. Waiting for the off some chancers climbed over the barrier and – accidentally – elbowed me in the face. No harm done though. Also as people disguarded clothes ahead of the start gun an asthma inhaler flew over and a bottle of yellow liquid.  I exchanged a look with the runner next to me exchanged a look. With the customary flames outside the castle we were off, and blow me if I didn’t need another slash in the first mile! I was joined by another four lads of a similar age. IOtr’s a shame about having to stop cause I was pretty pacey at that point. I don’t think they’ve changed the course in five years which is good as it’s a great route and I knew what to expect. I felt good for the first four miles and even the hill up to Penarth wasn’t too bad. It was a gorgeous sunny day which meant that I was sweating like a pig, but I was wearing my drinks utility belt (like motherfunking Batman, but – errr – for like running?) so could take sips when the mood and thirst took me.

The first five miles were pretty pacey hovering just under 7 minute miles. It did get a bit wobbly around Cardiff Bay where I give my traditional middle finger salute to the WNOhno! The stretch from there to the Magic Roundabout was just grinding the gears and seeing my friend Charlotte – who’d just got the second volume of the Brett Anderson memoir signed for me – was a boost. When I ran up Richmond Road around mile 9 into my manor of Roath I actually sped up. I saw Sian and a few other friends and maybe showboated a bit by putting a spurt on, but I paid for it with a wobble at mile 10.

Roath Park lake always seems to go on forever, I suppose cause you know you’re into the last stretch. i was feeling good but lordy lord the hill at mile 12 bit hard this year. The last mile was a pretty decent pace of 7:31 and with a last sprint it was all over for another year. As I say every year it was over before it had begun.

Initially i was disappoint with my time of 1:35 as I thought I was slower than last year but when I looked at last year I was actually 30 seconds quicker overall, my overall pace was 2 seconds quicker and I’d forgotten that I actually hadn’t stopped for a piss last year, so that added a minute and a bit to my time. Of course the only person who gives a shit etc etc…I was feeling pretty strong this year and in my training on the run up to the race I hadn’t hit the pace. It was good overall. I’m sure I’ve got a sub 1:30 half in me blah blah blah…if I can I’m going to hire a running coach for both the Newport marathon and the Cardiff half next year.

Los Surfers Muertos

As I type it’s an hour and half since I met Pixies and like many of the good things in life it was over too soon.

When Sian told me two weeks ago that Pixies were doing an in-store at Spillers I was so shocked and delighted that I had to pause ‘The Great British Bake Off’. I was already pretty excited about the album - ‘Under the Eyrie’ coming out, although it has to be said that the podcast about the making of the album was terribly dull.

I’ve managed to get a day working from home today and had a day off coffee yesterday, so after a run this morning I was match fit for PIxies fun!

I had a ton of Pixies stuff to get signed but at Sian’s suggestion I pared it down to 6 things, I know. My brother Mark was going to come down but couldn’t so Sian took her his place. We got down early to pick up the albums and then milled around with the rest of the 6 Music listeners before getting behind the red rope which put Sian and I first in the queue. I don’t like to seem to keen but who am I fooling? We got talking to a lovely guy - who’s name escapes me - he was pretty hung over and is going to be on ‘The Chain’ on Radcliffe and Maconie tomorrow. Respect. We also got interviewed by The Guardian as it’s pretty fucking incredible that the album is sorta getting launched in Cardiff and Spillers.

This wasn’t the first time I’d met Black Francis, aka Frank Black aka Charles Thompson III and I think he said about as much to me this time as he did last time, but it was all together a more pleasant experience.

Talking of Spillers they were really on it today at one o’clock we were ushered in. I completely geeked out when I got in there and walked in the wrong direction, so Sian was the first to get the album signed. She asked them if they were enjoying their day in Cardiff, Dave smiled and said “Yeah.” Joey pointed and our tote bag and said “Steve Colbert!” (there’s a picture of him on the bag) Paz and Black Francis just smiled at her. Naturally I just fell to pieces but managed to get my RSD single and ‘Death to the Pixies’ print signed. “You’ve already signed this Charles.” said Joey but he signed it again anyway.

So how were Pixies, well they looked tired and bored (this is the second date on the tour) but I don’t give a shit, i got to meet them and get a ton of stuff signed. I’m listening to the album now and it’s actually a lot better than I was expecting and I’ve got the gig to look forward to tonight after some Mexican food!

Cardiff was happy Friday night. i was happy Friday night. Sian and I were buoyed by Wahacha mules when we went to the CIA. I had expected Blood Red Shoes to be supporting but instead it was Big Moon which I was pretty okay with cause Sian had seen them at Greenman and said they were great and I’d missed their set. Great they were which is good because Pixies support bands have traditionally been shocking.

i was at the bar when Pixies came on and started strong with ‘Where Is My Mind’. It was a bit of an odd Roller coaster of a set energy wise. they’d bang out three or four classics punctuated by two from the new album. The energy levels would noticeably drop in the audience which is understandable as it was the launch day for the new album and people hadn’t had the time to wrap their ears around the songs. ‘Los Surfers Muertos’ which had it’s live debut at the gig sorta came and went, which is a bit disappointing at it’s my current favourite as it’s just so…odd, but Hey it’s Pixies there were enough bangers to keep me shouting and jumping. When ‘Debaser’ rolled around I speed minced to the front and had a good old mosh. It was so packed that I couldn’t get out so had another mosh to ‘Rock Music’, larvely. I still think ‘Gigantic’ should have been retired when Kim left, but hey ho.

Of course there wasn’t a any in between song chat from the band, it’s sorta their thing now and as Black Francis once pointed out they ain’t The Monkees.

I fantastic day of maximum Pixies thanks to Ashli and all the staff at Spillers for making something incredible happening.

Road to Nowhere

The mantra for Sunday’s 10k was ‘It’s only a 10k’ I have previously turned up at the race and been a bit sniffy about the hoopla for a course that’s shorter than my usual distance. Yet I was surprisingly nervous about the race despite there being nothing at stake. I was coughing and a spluttering as Sian and I walked down to the start line. It was a gorgeous sunny day and Sian had decided to walk the course. It was the fuss on the day I usually associate with a half or a full marathon, but I’ll stop going on.

Even after my usual pre-race slash at the Hilton added with a crafty pre start line pee I found - much to my exasperation - that I needed a slash again when the start gun went off. So I spent the first half looking for a toilet. Maybe as a result I got a good time, I found the pace comfortable and hovered around the 6:35ish mark as I ran down Castle Street. There were a lot of supporters out this year which of course helped. I really needed a pee as I ran up Cathedral Road. I knew there was a toilet in Llandaff Fields so I quickly nipped in. That hobbled my time a tad but I sped up a tad and regained a respectable pace until I had to stop briefly to reattach my race number. We got to the end of Sophia Gardens and back out to the final stretch and a sprint finish.

I crossed the finish line at 42:56 which is pretty good, a 10k PB? Dunno, I don’t take much notice cause it’s only a 10k after all. After the finish line I grabbed medal, a t-shirt and a pack of Walkers salt and vinegar crisps (I love you Cardiff) . I did subsequently find out that I was around 40 seconds faster than last year which cheered me up no end, all in all it was an encouraging warm up for the Cardiff Half in a month.

HOUSEPLANTS!

I approached this year’s Green Man with a heavy heart.

The line-up was good, we’d decided to ‘glamp’ but the weather forecast was best described as ‘Biblical’. Still, with wellies and waterproofs packed we got on the coach to Crickhowell. We arrived with our lovely tent fully erect (!) and actually got to the festival entrance before it had actually opened. First time ever I do believe. After a pre-festival snifter back at the tent we got in for a mooch and watched the documentary ‘The Devil and Daniel Johnston’, I’d forgotten what a difficult watch it was. The first band we saw were Bodega who were wonderful in a shouty, sexy, drummy way. Two or more drummer seemed to be de rigueur for bands this year as was me comparing every band to Pavement. We wandered off when they got a bit noodley and came back after to meet Steve Ford with These New Puritans in the background. It was a gorgeous day and to add to that The Wedding Present were announced as the late headliners for the day. Brilliant! We went for a few more beers then came back for the Weddos who did a blistering set, I even liked the new number! We bailed early cause we were knackered. The Weddos are a heavy gigging band so I should imagine we’ll get to see them again in the next six months, I’d sure that Mr Gedge would take that as a ringing endorsement.

Friday started promising. The weather wasn’t too bad, a bit overcast but manageable. We went to see Whitney on Huw Stephens recommendation, I thought they were okay but nothing special so we wandered off off to eat some Mexican. It started raining and then never stopped. I had really been looking forward to see The Beths in the Far Out tent but because of the rain it was way over subscribed and I think that intimidated the band. So much so that I didn’t really think they took off until five songs in. The circumstances seemed to swallow them, I hope I get the chance to see them in a club sometime soon. 

 We tried to get in to see Catlin Moran at the literature tent but everyone and their greenman had the same idea and while I stood in the rain holding Sian’s pint I heard the compare say “Please move in to make some space….this is a Health and Safety nightmare!”. Added to this people suddenly had very sharp elbows, so when Sian returned from powdering her nose I suggested going back to the tent if only to get out of the rain. By some miracle we managed to get back out and when for some drinks in the – covered – Courtyard Bar. We got pleasantly drunk and went to see the quite frankly brilliant Squid, and by God it stopped raining! Squid were a bit like Pavement and very spiky, the highlight of their set was  the gonzo ‘HOUSEPLANTS!’ during which they were joined by a dancer with two strategically placed sunflowers.  We hung around for ‘Stealing Sheep’ who did a slightly pared down version of the set we saw them do in Cardiff a few months ago and excellent they were too.   With ‘The Sheep’ – as no one calls them – set we’d managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. I wanted to stay up to watch Yo Le Tango (!) but as per I was knackered.  

After a jolly set from Cardiff’s own ‘Oh Peas!’ on the thankfully dry Saturday I went to see Jessica Hoop do an in-store in the Green man Records tent (I did miss the Rough Trade tent this year as did many I suspect) The highlight of the day for me was Richard Thompson, first he was in the literature tent being interviewed by Mojo. He seemed to be a fairly reticent interviewee but he still provided some insight and was pretty funny. His set later was a festival pleasing run through of the ‘hits’ including the wonderful ‘Vincent Black Lightining’, ‘Beeswing’ ‘I Want to see the Bright Lights Tonight’ and ‘Persuasion’. Thanks to the reviving effects of a vegetarian hot dog (!) I was able to stay up for Jessica Hoops full set, but alas Four Tet was beyond me.

Sunday started with aching sides, not through laughing but drinking. Our Sunday at Green man started at the crack of noon with ‘Self Esteem’, Rebecca Taylor out of ‘Slow Club’s new venture and what a great, feisty prospect they are too, I wasn’t expecting the synchronised dancing. They should have been higher up on the bill.   The big highlight of the day was Eels, I’ve always liked the band and didn’t expect a set full of bangers and their cover of ‘Raspberry Beret’ was as welcome as it was unexpected, for such a wonderfully miserable band they did a a very uplifting performance, a reworked version of ‘Novocaine for the Soul’ was another highlight. I was looking forward to Sharon Van Etten’s (aka the next Mrs Floyd) set and she has come on leaps and bounds as a performer but the set left me a little cold. I don’t think she’s really scaled the heights of the ‘Serpents’ album but that’s just me.

I was determined to stay up and watch the Greenman burn after going to the festival for over ten years and not seeing it once, but I was cold and tired. After a fortifying curry and chips Sian and I retired to tent and that was Green man 2019 for me, or so I thought. I woke up just past midnight needing a slash. I got dressed and when I was out I thought ‘Well I’m up now…’ so went for a walk up the hill to see the burning embers of the Greenman and then I went for a last wander to take in the burning embers of Green man 2019.

A Day in the Life

Even by my frenetic standard Saturday was busy. Sian and I had decided to have a day in London to see the Stanley Kubrick exhibition at the Design Museum followed by the annual trip to the RA for the Summer Exhibition.

The Kubrick exhibition had sold out but we’d pre-booked tickets. It was packed which occasionally made it difficult to see things but it was crammed with so much amazing content that there was always something to see. I wish I’d had a bit more time to read the letters but the ones I did helped to contextualise Kubrick as a working artist dealing with logistical problems. I didn’t spend much time in the in the Barry Lyndon sections but lingered in the ‘A Clockwork Orange’, ‘The Shinning’ and 2001 rooms. Of note were the gorgeous art work for ‘Orange’ the original typewriter from The Overlook and creeping final 1920s group photo and pretty much everything in the 2001 room. I was very taken with the magazine which contained the original Arthur C Clark story which piqued Kubrick’s interest, with its ‘Tyrant and Slave-Girl on Planet Venus’ lead story.

We tubed it across to Green Park to the RA. There’s something reassuring about my annual visit, regardless of what else is happening in my life I manage to make the time to go. Having said that it wasn’t a vintage year after the heights of Grayson Payson’s curated exhibition last year. , For the last time I look at some of the paintings and thought ‘Well my painting was at least as shit as that! Mine should have got in!’ They do like there message in the summer exhibition and this year there was a broad theme of immigration good/Brexit bad. I suspect they might have been pushing against an open door with that one and the way that – and an ecological message – were portrayed were as subtle as a brick. There were a couple of things I liked, and the addition of a temporary bar certainly helped to lubricate the show for me.

We met up with Bill in a surprisingly good pub in London and then the train back to Cardiff. I arranged to meet Steve Dixon in Tiny Rebel for the third act of my day, ‘This is the Kit’ playing Clwb Ifor. Much to my surprise and chagrin I was refused entry to Tiny Rebel when one of the bouncers said he’d just thrown me out. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life it’s never argue with a bouncer so I just stood there looking pathetic when he eventually let me in. Steve Dixon wasn’t there so I just left and went to Clwb Ifor. Rosi Plain was supporting from 8 so I just went in, bumping into Mike from my annual Record Store Day on the way, then Steve D turned up as did Steve Ford, and so we had the full Record Store Day massive in effect. Word.  Rosi Plain’s band were basically This is Kit but with different lead singers and very good they were too. After a brief interlude Rosi and Kate swapped mikes and This is the Kit were on.

Gradually and without knowing This is the Kit have crept on me and become of my favourite recent bands. It’s quite something to have seen them come from being third on the bill at The Glee club a few years ago (can’t remember who were head lining) to play to a packed out top floor at Clwb. There was a lot of love in the room for the band, the music is so full of joy and Kate Stables aka Mrs Kit is so ebullient that her smiley between song chat lifts the room. The audience was completely 6Music/Radio 2, fair enough, that’s my life now. The set ended with ‘Earthquakes’ which is a personal favourite.

Being a fan boy I hung around after to get an album signed – I may have all the albums signed now, don’t judge me – and to get a photo with Kate. I’m not one for photos, but I wanted to document a day of art and music. The Record Store guys were bemused at how faffy and shy I was, but eventually I managed it, she was lovely but seems to have a problem spelling ‘Cardiff’.

It was out into Womaby Street and a lift home from Steve Ford. I did briefly think about popping into The Moon across the road for a free gig that another mate was at, but blimey I was on my knees and it would have been gilding the lily somewhat. What a great great fun exhausting day.  

Tick Tock and you don't stop

It’s been a funny old year. I speak on the eve of another twist in the road.

Speaking of the road my running has had been going well as I train towards for a sub 1:30 half marathon in October. I was out yesterday chasing an ambitious pace and not really getting it. At one point on the run I had to stop to cough up all manner of gunk, bent over with my hands on my knees. Someone walking past said “I thought running was supposed to be good for you?” It was a good point well made. Alongside the running has been alongside some fairly boozy fun nights including a cocktail soaked weekend in Brussels which must have impacted on the training at some point. With that weekend in particular I couldn’t do my long 13 mile Sunday run so I had to do it on the Monday when I was not so much hungover as threadbare. The following week I ran 7 days out of 7 and man I felt tired at the end of it and had to give my kidneys a rest from the booze that weekend. There was also one evening in that 7 days when I went out running on the hottest of the year, and fuck it was like running through treacle. I’ve also stated to get quite bad lover back pain which is a sure sign that my running daps need replacing.

I’ve got a few more boozy nights ahead, but then after Greenman I’m going to be knocking it on the head until the half, so I’m hoping that combined with a new pair of daps and drinking some more isotonics (and maybe giving some previous gut shredding gels another go?) will help. In an optimistic frame of mind today I signed up the Cardiff 10k on the 1st of September so here’s hoping.

Poses

I thought I’d prepared to hang my paintings at Tiny Rebel yesterday. I’d been to the bar the previous day and put some Velcro up but somehow got the height and width of my largest painting ‘untitled’ (measuring around 4ft by 7ft) mixed up so had to go back and readjust the strips.

The problem I faced was that i couldn’t drill into the walls which were irregular anyway, and had studs at random points and different shaped holes again at random intervals. So I took a punt on a few methods to hang the large painting and brought a variety of screws and mirror plates. I realised a day or two before i was due to hang the paintings that ‘untitled’ was too heavy to completely suspend it from the wall and that I’d have to rest it on the top of back wall bench.

As with any of my ego projects I was able to rope in some friends to help. In this case Karl Blockwell, Steve Dixon, Sarah Bennington and - thankfully - Andrew from Inkspot who hangs paintings for a living. I wangled the use of a van for the morning and drove Andrew, Steve and the paintings down to Womaby Street. We had two hour to hang the paintings before Tiny Rebel opened for thirsty customers.

Wonderfully by the time I’d got back Andrew had secured the large painting and I have to say it looks fucking marvellous.

So we met up in the street and carried the paintings in. Before too long it became evident that most of my ideas about how to hang the paintings weren’t going to work, and the string I’d used was too weak. Thankfully Andrew suggested using some nylon string and went back off to Inkspot to get some. We seemed to have everything in hand so Sarah nipped off and we waited for Andrew to come back. I offered to take everyone for breakfast as a thank you and then I realised that I could take the van back while we waited for Andrew which would speed things up. I went out to Womaby Street to find that I had a ticket, my own stupid fault for being too tight to pay for parking, though all my mates said to challenge the fine. I dropped the van off and speed walked back in the baking heat. Wonderfully by the time I’d got back Andrew had secured the large painting and I have to say it looks fucking marvellous. Andrew had to rush off but I took Steve D and Karl B for breakfast and a natter. A bit later I went back with Sian who wanted to see the paintings and I was happy (and a little surprised?) to see them still up. it was a a sweaty nerve racking morning but boy it feels good that some of my paintings are back out in the world again.

Art Magic

i sit in a cafe called The Vanilla Pod half way between Cardiff and Newport now that my enforced time of leisure has come to an end. One of the numerous benefits of having the luxury of spare time is that I got back to my studio and reconnected with my art. I did have to drag myself back and do a fair amount of cleaning up (which is basically just holding back the tide as it’s a right state already).

Part of my renewed enthusiasm for painting came from attending the David Nash exhibition currently on at Cardiff Museum. The exhibition is mainly wooden sculptures with material found around North Wales. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed an exhibition so much. It has a very elemental, tactical element (there are numerous signs around telling people not to touch the sculptures) and works in harmony with the nature surroundings they find themselves in. Some look like they just grew like that. Sian really responded to the exhibition strongly.

I’ve also been beavering away at my own work and (this is going to sound terrible) found inspiration by seeing an old painting of mine. I suddenly remembered the process and brought it to bare on a current painting. This resulted in my favourite painting for a long time. I was determined to get something new for a mini exhibition I’m having at the end of this month at the Tiny Rebel bar in Cardiff. While Sian and I were having Capari and soda she pointed out that the huge painting I’d exhibited in London would look great in the space. I approached Tiny Rebel and they said yes (it’s nice to hear nice yes for a change). Now I just have to work out how to hang the bugger. So it’ll be some of my old work, and happy to say my most recent painting which I picked up from Davies Framing this Saturday. I’ve enlisted some longs suffering friends to help and it’ll be good to see my work on walls again

There's No Fight We Can't Both Win

Monday saw my 48th birthday and to celebrate the fact I went to see Mammoth Penguins. I am still in the limbo of not having a job so it’s a weird state to be in, but I’m a bit more insulated this time round than I have been when I’ve hit other stretches of unemployment. So Monday was a night of Mexican food and music.

It was a happy accident that the Penguins were playing Cardiff on my birthday and I knew that a gaggle of my mates would be turning out to see the band, so it was a nice, low-fi shindig and i didn’t have to get up for work the next day, result. There were two support acts Oh Peas! doing a charming solo set while the rest of her band watched from the audience. The other band (The Jelus?) were great wonky chaotic indie where the band members weren’t quite sure when each of them were going to stop.

…and then the Penguins started singing happy birthday to me…

It was great to have an opportunity to yap to our mates and a few were kind enough to buy me some drinks which added to my general feeling of well being and drunkenness. The Penguins new album ‘There’s No Fight We Can’t Win’ is a brilliant slice of confessional indie rock. I’d Spotified it but I’ve only really grown to appreciate it since hearing the songs give the live treatment and having bought the vinyl at the gig. It was at the Moon, which has to be one of my favourite venues in Cardiff simply by the fact that it’s one of the few still standing, but they have spruced it up a bit. The stage is a lot better since they increased the size and the gents toilets no longer look like something out of ‘Threads’.

Ah yeah, the toilets. So while the Penguins waited to go into the next song I decided to go for a slash. I could hear Emma Cooper talking from the stage and walked out to hear her say “Where is he?” and all eyes on me, and then the Penguins started singing happy birthday to me.It was incredibly sweet but I became uncharacteristically shy and retreated into the shadows. My gig amigo Steve Dixon had arranged it was a lovely thing for him to do. I picked up the album and headed into the night after having had a very happy birthday indeed.

Newport State of Mind

The training hadn’t gone well for the Newport marathon. Three colds in rapid succession followed by a bout of food poisoning which lasted a week had clipped my wings. I’d been nudging my sub three marathon pace when the food poisoning hit, so two weeks out I knew that the sub three hours was beyond me so instead I concentrated on my best marathon pace of 7:25 minute miles.

A week before on my ‘long’ Sunday run I’d twisted mt right ankle and a week later it was still giving me twinges. I bumped into a mate from the old Twisted by Design days at a Suede gig the week before, and her partner Matt was doing the marathon so he gave me a lift with his Dad to the Park and Ride and then to the start line. It was good to have a natter on the way up and to complain about carb loading.

They’d obviously learned from last year as it was far better organised and it actually started on time. I spent the hour before gun time having a coffee, eating a bagel and slathering on layers of Deep Heat and Ibuprofen gel .

Before I knew it we were off and as per tradition I had to take my mile one slash early on but then I was pretty fast and it felt pretty good. i actually hit a sub three hour pace at mile two but that didn’t last. The big change i made this year was I took my drinks with me. Two clipped into utility belt and one in hand which worked pretty well. I discarded the hand held bottle around mile 10. I took sips when I needed and it meant that I didn’t have to wait until the water stations.

I’d forgotten how much of the Newport marathon was on tarmac and I could feel the jarring in my legs and back. I brought pain killers with me and took one every three miles which seemed to stave off the worse of the pain. Most of yesterday’s race was similar to most marathons, mile after mile of running, there seemed to be a little less support than I remembered last year, especially out in the more rural outskirts of Magor. I settled into a pretty consistent pace of 7:20 - 7:30 from mile 7 to mile 17. i remember have a little wobble around mile 9 but I felt pretty strong all the way round. It was around mile 18 that I started to slow down. I thought I was in with a chance of a PB util the 3:15 pace setter passed me around mile 19. From mile 20 I was getting around 8 minute miles, not too bad but it was a bit of a grind.

“(I was) 3 minutes slower than last year and 40 seconds slower than Tokyo. The only one who gives a shit about this of course is me.”

The route opened up very early and there was a slight annoyance of one or two runners overtaking me then slowing down right in front, but it wasn’t too bad. Did I enjoy the run? It’s an odd thing cause in all of the marathon photos I look like I’m in pain. It’s an odd thing to do cause I don’t enjoy it the way I enjoy a gig say, but i’m never as in the moment as when I’m doing a distance like this and there were some definite endorphin highs on the route, but more of the race was churning out the miles yesterday.

At mile 23 I looked to my right and thought ‘I could have sworn that girl passed me earlier…oh no…’ then I remembered that you double back on yourself at the tail end of the course. It’s no biggie smalls but it did make my heart drop.

I got into a weird buzz in the last six miles that I could still do a PB, but the realisation hit me in the final two that it wasn’t going to happen, so then it was doing the best I could and trying to get in under 3:20. I sped up in the final mile where I high fived a kid who was on supporting and gave him some sage advice “Never run a marathon kid.” in the last mile there’s a slight incline up a bridge which is a bit of a teeth grinder. A sprint finish saw me getting in at 3:19:12 which is around 3 minutes slower than last year and 40 seconds slower than Tokyo. The only one who gives a shit about this of course is me. I’ll say what I say every marathon; I know i have a sub three hour in me! I should have kicked the booze earlier and banked more miles. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Perfect Circle

It comes but once a year. Yes! It was Record Store Day 2019 and me and my merry band of pranksters were on the hunt for overpriced vinyl! There had been some discussion as to whether we were going top Aberdare or Newport. Steve Dixon had been making the case for Aberdare, but I am a creature of habit and despite hearing that Diverse weren’t getting as much in this year, their list was pretty impressive. Steve D had also made noises that he was going to duck out this year, but on a trip to Rough Trade in Bristol to see an excellent Fontaines D.C in-store I convinced him to come along for the laffs. he said he wasn’t going to buy anything. Yeah, right. Anyway it wouldn’t feel like Record Store Day now without Steve D.

So as per we joined Steve Ford and Mike for the drive down to Newport and freezing O’Clock, and blimey it was bastard cold. I swear we were stood in the exact same place that we were last year, pretty close to the front and but not ridiculously eager. As has become the new tradition i didn’t think it was a bumper year, but had been strategic when I’d made up my list. Yes, list. A CSNY live album was £50 so I Spotimified it adn didn’t think it was £50 good, which freed my cash up for other stuff. I couldn’t find the fucking list when Steve Ford turned up so went through the releases in the car on the way down and remembered that the firs Soccer mommy EP was out. She’d ‘Clean’ my favourite album of last year, so that went on the list along with the Bingo Hand Job (R.E.M bootleg), the first This is the Kit album, the first Frank Black album, an Idles EP and a Kristin Hersh album amongst a few other things.

Of course the best thing about RSD is yapping with the Steve’s and Mike. There were many yuks as we shivered, we took turns at getting coffee, and lordy lord I couldn’t stop going to the bog. To the extent that when we right at the front of the queue i asked the owner of Diverse if I could pop across the road for a slash. I had time just before we were let in. I didn’t want to be jumping from foot to foot when I was in the store.

Mike and I were let in soon after 9 and I got seized by RSD panic and confusion, while Mike kept a cool head and snagged the one ‘Bingo Hand Job’ copy. The only thing I could find on my list was the Soccer Mommy EP, but when the Steves got let in I gradually got handed and found all the others. We’d agreed if we found something that the others wanted that we’d hand it over and that worked like a peach. Diverse even gave me a fiver off the This is the Kit album cause it had a crease in the corner. Steve Ford only fancied the ‘Black Mirror’ soundtrack and Steve D ended up getting more than him, cough. We had time to pop down to Newport market’s second hand record stall where i picked up a reissue of ‘Tommy’ by The Wedding Present and then when we got back to Cardiff I was like a crate digging ninja and shot into D’Vinyl’s for the 50% off sale and picked up a heavy weight reissue of ‘Never mind the Bollocks’ inexplicably still in the shrink wrap and a copy of Bowie’s ‘Lodger’ for next to nothing. It looks like shit but plays well.

The cherry on the RSD cake was that Mike was then able to pick up a copy of ‘Bingo Hand Job’ at another record shop. So a great Record Store Day where I stayed comfortably within my budget and had lots of laffs and I’ve just managed to defrost.

People have the power

It’s been odd that being an enforced man of leisure again that I haven’t updated my blog more. So I round up up of what I should have blogged about.

First and foremost Sian and I went on the ‘People’s Vote’ march in London. When the result of the referendum was announced I was disappointed and resigned to us leaving the UK. I doubt if anyone could have predicated two years ago what would have unfolded. I’ve felt largely powerless in what’s happened since. So when Sian suggested we go on the march it felt like doing something positive against a mountain of negativity.

There were chartered buses leaving from Cardiff, but they were full so we got the Megasbus at stupid O Clock which was still rammed. It was a bright, sunny day in London and European flags increased in evidence as we got closer to Hyde Park. The Park was busy and there was a buzz of nervous excitement as people gathered. Insanely we bumped into a mate who was also going on the march. Later we’d try and meet up but the sheer amount of people made it impossible. We got nearish to the front, listened to some speeches and then sorta shuffled off. I was surprised at the demographic of the march as there were a lot of 50+ people, which was good to see.

The good natured march snaked slowly through London, occasionally chanting, one of my favourites being:
”What do we want?”
”Brexit!”
”…errrr, (pause ) I don’t think that’s what we want.”

And there were a group of young girls on some scaffolding who got my section of the march shouting:
”Bollocks to Brexit!”

I’d never quite seen central London like that, it was virtually at a stand still, it was quite a sight. There was an estimate of a million plus people being on the march, but everyone was having a good time and getting along. I think many were there show a very visible disagreement to what’s happening. Sian and I didn’t get to Parliament Square in time to see the speeches, we were within sight of Big Ben where signs were thanking people and wishing them a safe journey home. We bailed at the Embankment Tube and managed to have a much needed sit down at Paddington, after walking for six hours my back was in half.

It was very positive thing to be part of. As my mate Steve O’Brien said shortly after I hadn’t given the EU much thought before the referendum but subsequent to the march I’ve had to dig for some facts to back up my opinions, which is no bad thing. I don’t think anyone really knows how this will all end,

Runaway

Part of the ennui I’ve been feeling this year has extended to my running. Yet again I’m trying to get a sub-three hour time in the Newport marathon. The training for this goal has been brutal and it hasn’t gone well. This is partly because with the marathon being in May i thought I could leave it a bit longer before I kicked the booze into touch, in retrospect I should have gone on the wagon on New Year’s Day. Also two days into 2019 I came down with a bad cold which I couldn’t shift for two weeks. I had to skip some training runs, and my old calf injury has also flared up and just to add to the giggles I picked up another cold around a fortnight ago.

So yes, it’s been frustrating, I haven’t come close to the pace I need for the marathon. I’ve dragged myself out for the runs even knowing that they’re probably going to be a grind. I suspect that’s what differentiates some who runs from a runner. Yes that comes across as smug, but last Sunday when I was on the Taff Trail on around mile 14, clomping along with my back in half something kept me going.

I’ve been hoping that the training would snap into place. I’ve got to be comfortable running at 6:40 and I haven’t come anywhere near that. My long Sunday run involves running 6 of the miles at the marathon pace, so I decided to invest in some isotonic powder to mix with my water, some energy bars and recovery drink. I’ve tried to stay away from the isotonic drinks cause they’ve had some - errr - detrimental effects on me on the past but I needed some advantage.

I faffed around putting the long run off especially as the weather was filthy, but eventually I dragged myself out. It didn’t look good initially. I had to stop twice on the first marathon mile as I was coughing so much gunk up (sorry to be indelicate), but after that it picked up. I got soaked, dry, wet again then sorta damp. I ran out to past the Radyr Weir and actually didn’t feel too bad. I felt better in the second half of the run than I did at the beginning and actually had something left in the tank at the end of the run.

Subsequent to this blog my time had started to get better, I bought new daps and my lower back pain was manageable. I was getting closer to my marathon pace as my training started to taper. However in the last week I’ve caught another bloody cold and come down with a bout of food poisoning. This has meant that I’ve missed another two running days. I don’t think is is my year for the sub three hour marathon…

You can't always get what you want

I have of late been at a low ebb. The contract role I’d been in for the last two years which gave me some much needed stability came to an end last month. Since then I’ve been a bit rudderless. I do like a routine, partly because it gives me a foundation to be able to bounce around doing all various activities. It’s only been twenty two days but I’m feeling more than a little lost.

Which means it takes an extra effort to be creative. I was contemplating not submitting to the RA Summer Exhibition for my annual rejection. I’d picked up from the last two years that the RA do like a call back to art history and a visual joke, which gave me an idea based around The Death of Marat  by Jacques-Louis David. It’s a very different direction to my usual work, I had a few passes at it, then run out of time. I finished the version above but still can’t tell if it’s shit. I would be amazed if it even got short listed if I’m honest. I should have given myself the time to have another pass at it.

The Man Don't Give A Fuck

There is something rotten in the heart of Cardiff. The fundamental character of the city is being torn apart by developers. Huge swathes of buildings and streets dating back centuries are being knocked down and bulldozed to make way for car parks and ‘student accommodation’, most of which will be a quarter full at best. The ‘student accommodation’ is then changed to luxury ‘executive apartments’, thus circumventing costly regulations. While just yards away people live in tents mushrooming on the moldering central Queen Street. The student accommodation scam is an open secret and is a disgrace.

The student accommodation scam is an open secret and is a disgrace.

The latest sacrifice to Mammon is Guilford Crescent. The Rapport Family - who own the buildings and knocked down the historic and scary Vulcan pub - are knocking it down just ahead of it being granted conversation status. The Crescent has a Masonic Lodge on it (The Lodge is already a listed building so the Grand Hob Goblin can sleep well at night) the Maderia restaurant, the Thai House and the GiwidHu.

The GwidiHu is very dear to my heart and to many people around the city. I’ve been to many many gigs and had a significant birthday there. It’s a great, colorful friendly space, a bit arty and independent which is becoming a rarity in the increasingly homogenized Cardiff (they’ve never managed to sort the toilets out mind). The demolition has been delayed for two months but already it’s too late for the businesses.

It felt important to show support and concern over what’s happening. Daniel Minty - a Cardiff music promoter - had organised a march last Saturday. Sian and I were still shrugging off a cold but joined at the start in Womaby Street. It was a joyous affair and we not only bumped into both sets of neighbors but also saw friends as the march snaked through Queen Street to Guildford Crescent. It felt like a larger turn out that the Womaby Street march which is impressive for a cold Saturday afternoon in January.

Naturally the march ended in Guilford Crescent, where we treated to a number of speakers including Minty, the owner of the Thai House and the GwidiHu, Jo Stevens the Labor MP for Cardiff Central and Tali Källström the lead singer from The Estrons. All the speakers were sincere, passionate and eloquent, Tali especially emphasizing the importance of small venues for breaking new bands.

I was a bit more optimistic coming away from the march. It feels like a spotlight has been shone on some very reprehensible activities. It’s too late for the current business on Guildford Crescent, so although we’ve lost the battle could we still win the war? The GwidiHu is going to relocate and start up a crowdfunding campaign which I’m gonna support.

My first gig of 2019 will be my final gig at the current incarnation of the GwidiHu, which a fundraiser tomorrow with a lineup of local bands. It’s gonna be a bitter sweet night.

Eye of the Tiger

 The classy move would have been for the Rocky franchise to bow out with ‘Creed’. That film was way better than it had any right to be. It also has one of my favourite scenes in the series where Adonis, Creed and Bianca are jubilant after his first professional win and decide to go and celebrate. The next scene finds all three asleep in front of a Bond film with a half finished take away on the table. The film also provided a great exit for Rocky. So I was a bit ambivalent when I read there was to be a ‘Creed II’ until it was announced that Ivan Drago from Rocky IV was coming back, “Fuck! When’s it out?”.

I really love the Rocky films, and not in an ironic hipster way (well maybe a little bit). The first film is a very solid, finely crafted story doomed always to be in the shadow of ‘Raging Bull’ (justifiably).  As the series went on the films became increasingly ridiculous, but more fun and crammed full of montages. In preparation for "‘Creed II’ I re-watched Rocky IV which has four montages, count um! Four! That film is probably the reason I have an obsession for over training and growing beards. ‘Rocky V’ is a low point of the series and the one I’ve watched the least, I will have to revisit it soon, in case I’ve done it a disservice, I doubt it though.   I was happy when the comeback film ‘Rocky Balboa’ was announced in 2006. It’s far from perfect - it’s central conceit is pretty farcical - but it had a very satisfying emotional centre, it showed the characters moving on and dealing with grief and old age. It provided a more fitting end to the series than ‘Rocky V’, but if there’s one thing you learn about Rocky it’s never to count him out, sorry.

’Creed’ not only managed to revive a series everyone thought was dead, it treated the legacy of the films with creativity and respect. This is something that ‘Creed II’ shares with it’s predecessor. Bringing Ivan Drago back with his son Scouly Drago in tow makes perfect sense and does provide the film with an emotional gravitas.  Dolph Lundgren is very impressive as the older Drago who manages to look both world weary and bitter at his country and wife  for turning their back on him, while still showing the gimlet eyed steel on occasion from ‘Rocky IV’. Although there is scene right at the end of the film where Lundgren is running with Scowly and Lundgren has a very odd running style, it looks like he’s doing the Lambeth walk.

Many of the Rocky tropes are all in ‘Creed II’ including the training montage (Horrah!) and the ‘I’m not gonna train ya!’/’I am gonna train ya!’ push and pull. The film is hardly original, but who knew a towel could have such emotional weight?  It gives the structures of the previous Rocky films a new gum shield and shorts and sends it back into the ring, but blimey it punches above it's weight, sorry. Me and my best mate Matthew Hampton were pretty much laughing with glee during the final bout and when they (cynically?) drop the Rocky theme in during round 10 I want to get up and punch the air!

’The Godather’ it ain’t, but there’s enough intelligentially handled callbacks to make this fanboy very happy. To be honest I’d go back and see it again today if I could.

Too Real

I had to drag myself out to the Fontaines D.C. gig last night. It was a sold out gig at The Moon and earlier I’d been for a 10 and a half mile run. It felt good to stretch my legs but it did have the knock on affect that my nose started to run in sympathy.

It was my de facto gig kemosabe Steve Dixon’s idea to go. I didn’t know the bad that much, although I had heard a track or two on 6 Music. We cycled down and stopped in the nearby Wetherspoons for a snifter cause the booze in The Moon is pretty scarce.

The venue was rammed and we got in in time to see the last four songs of the support band. For the life of me I can’t remember what they were called but they were decent in a Joy Division type of way.  Fontaines D.C took the stage soon after. The gimlet eyed looked pretty well refreshed before he took to the mike, but he was very intense and focussed. Blow me if Big Jeff wasn’t down the front! Second time I’ve seen him at a Cardiff gig this year, the first being the Orielles. You know you’ve made the right gig choice if you see Jeff there, I found out subsequently that Jeff has seen them six times, blimey!

I’m having to get used to the idea that most new bands I see these days are younger than most of my nephews, but even at this gig I was far from the oldest member of the audience. Everyone seemed to have had a couple of drinks (including me) and were having a good time. The lead singer kept pushing up at the low celling of the stage as he looked out at the crowd and gave Jeff a high five.  The band themselves are very much in the Idles/Slaves mould. Cause the band are from Ireland would be lazy to say that they had elements of the Undertones in the mix? Yeah, probably, but there was that spikey energy to them.

A great packed end to my 2018 gig campaign.

Pussycat

Upon reflection I shouldn’t have had that third pint. I went along to Clwb Ifor to see Pip Bloom. I wanted to see the support band Cardiff’s Big Time ‘cause my mate Jas has said good things about them and I nearly put them on as a support earlier this year. I thought they were gonna be a lot more Shoe Gazey but they were actually quite jangly. Very good they were too. Very accomplished, I’d definitely give them a punt again. The promoter hadn’t shared the stage times which was a pisser but I did manage to get there right on time. I was in the mood for a drink, that was nice so I had another, but yes, I knew as I was buying it that on a school night, it was a mistake. Enough I was having a good time and I’ve paid the price today.

Talking of a school night gig it was a good turn out considering. Pip Bloom is both the singer and the band. Much like Soccer Mommy earlier this year Pip Bloom were a rockier, harder proposition live that they are on record and the band were clearly having a good time. The band are from the Netherlands and the bassist made a decent fist of speaking some Welsh.  The red headed drummer was a force of nature to behold in particular. I know the band from 6 Music and Mark Riley. It was quite a 6 Music crowd but not exclusively but I felt comfortable. The songs zoomed by with highlights being ‘Pussycat’, ‘I Think I’m in love’ and ‘Telephone’. It was the second gig in a row where I didn’t fancy the t-shirts, although they weren’t as awful as the woeful Parquet Courts gig t-shirts a week before. I could have gone to see a band called Trampoline upstairs at Clwb, but I’d already pushed it with three pints. I cycled home passing students who’s night out was just beginning as mine was ending.  

Vamos

We weren’t going to go.

I discussed the 30th anniversary ‘Come on Pilgrim’/’Surfer Rosa’ shows at the Roundhouse in London with my brother. We both agreed that they were a spicy enchilada and that we weren’t going. Fine. But then…I started thinking ‘Well fuck, it is a special show and I’ve never been to The Roundhouse before…’ then I got a load of Extra work and then the next thing you know…I’d bought us two tickets.

To cut down on the spiciness of the endeavor I decided to take the Megabus up. Lordy lord I thought it was never gonna end! It was busier than it had any right to be on Wednesday afternoon and had a stuffiness unique to UK buses. We circled Victoria coach station twice and I thought that was my life, to be damned to live forever on a Megabus looping round Victoria.

Eventually I wobbled off to Camden where I hooked up with Mr Floyd jr. God it was good to see him. We’ve both had life stuff going on so it was good to catch up. I’d picked the 31st of October as our gig in the 5 night run. Camden was warm and buzzing with Halloween high jinks as we went for drinks then to the Roundhouse.

What a bloody great venue! Mark was very happy to learn that it was the location of a legendary Doors gig back in the 60s. There was no support just some wonderfully arty films about the making of the Pixies album covers narrated by scary uncle Vaughan Oliver and sound tracked by Joey Santiago.

“Mark and I shared a moment when during ‘Nimrod’s Son’ we turned to each other and gleefully sang the line “You are the son of a mother fucker!” Ah. memories. ”

Pixies came on to joyous applause and I had a massive shit eating grin on my face from beginning to end . They just banged through ‘Come On Pilgrim; the visuals announced each song and amazingly they managed to retain the rawness. Joey took central stage for the first of his two Vamos wig outs. Dave Lovering threw him a drum stick, he played his guitar with it, he threw it back and Dave dropped it. I love love love you Pixies. As has been the tradition for Pixies shows of late Black Francis didn’t talk to the crowd, despite that the band seemed to be in high spirits. Even to the extent that Chuck read out the ‘You fucking die!’ piece of dialogue from ‘Surfer Rosa’. Mark and I shared a moment when during ‘Nimrod’s Son’ we turned to each other and gleefully sang the line “You are the son of a mother fucker!” Ah. memories.

Pixies are a lesser band without Kim Deal but I don’t love them any less, so did enjoy hearing ‘Gigantic’ get an outing. I had heard that the night before that the band had done ‘Debaser’ as part of the encore, which was more that I expected. So for we went to the mosh pit which was actually quite lively and had a good old fashioned ruck. The only song I can remember was ‘Into the White’. With a bit of change from 10:30 we were back into the Camden Halloween night.

The Roundhouse gig is one of my top five Pixies gigs for a number of reasons. The band were in a good mood, getting to spend quality time with my brother and the amazing venue. Crikey though, I was evil the next day.

Always Trying to Work It Out

Steve Dixon and I drove around Bristol trying to find parking for the Low gig last night. Boy, we know the roundabout by The Exchange well by the end of the night. My fault, I thought my gig kemosabe - who was kind enough to drive us there - knew the way. I only know the way from The Exchange, so my directions were a bit scrappy do. Eventually we did and got into the Trinity in time to see the final song from the support band, buy a beer and do the first sweep of the merch’ table.

Low’s set consisted very heavily of songs from their new album ‘Double Negative’ (did they play the whole album?), which is no bad thing. ‘Double Negative’ is pretty experimental with the actual sound of the songs, to the extent that the first time I played it I did check my stylus. It was great to hear the songs stripped of the effects and they really soared, filling up every corner of the church. They also settled into two extended bouts of guitar drone, similar to the ‘guitar armageddon’ that My Bloody Valentine used to close their sets with, but at a less ear threatening volume. I’d accuse most bands of being self indulgent at this point but Low last night weren’t doing it for effect, they were being artistically uncompromising, yes they were. I got the same feeling listening to the drone as I do when I’m looking at a Rothko painting. It filled my soul with joy.

Alan Sparhawk barely spoke to the audience for the first half, then when he did someone started screaming at the crowd. I have no idea why or what she was screaming about. Sparhawk was - understandably - freaked out and kept asking “Is everyone…cool?” Things seemed to settle down, but it was all very weird. Sparhawk recovered and was quite chatty after, even updating the audience on how his kids were doing, and how one had gone to art college. He seemed to be almost justifying the price of the gig ticket (which was a bit spicy) but fuck it, they’re Low. I’d see them every week if I could. Mimi did say ‘Is it Monday right?’ to which a wag in audience replied “Welcome to Bristol.”

They did pull some older songs out of the bags, particular highlights being ‘Murderer’ and ‘Pissing’. Low can play whatever they want, but I always hope for ‘When I Go Deaf’ but the one time I heard them do it live I blubbed like a baby, so probably best they didn’t.