One More Epicycle

On Thursday, after finishing the day’s work at five or so, I checked the useful London transit journey planner to see if I was going to have any trouble getting to the Royal Albert Hall. Just my luck, due to “vandalism”, there were severe delays on the line I’d planned to take. Must’ve been some pretty serious vandalism, beyond the Kilroy-was-here kind.. so I grabbed my things, headed home to change, and then caught the first train at Mile End.

Well I feel like an old hobo
I’m sad lonesome and blue
I was fair as the summer day
Now the summer days are through
You pass through places
And places pass through you
But you carry ‘em with you
On the souls of your travellin’ shoes

The Underground’s definitely an experience. James did his best to describe it to me back in Kingston, but words don’t suffice. It’s an important part of London life — the map itself is considered an icon of England! — and despite its various problems seems to work very well; the Oyster charge-card they have is very convenient, and you don’t even have to take it out of your wallet for the system to scan it correctly when you tap in and out of the system. The other day I’d forgotten to put enough money on it, and it let me carry a -0.50£ balance without complaint.

One thing that James did convey is that when the Tube was busy, I’d be in rather close quarters with all manner of strangers. I’ve found it’s not usually so bad, although that may be due to the odd (non-rush-hour) times I tend to go exploring, but when one of the main lines goes down (as it had then) it’s a real problem. After we left the East End and moved toward the central core, there was barely room to breathe.. one young woman in particular I became so intimate with I felt I should’ve at least asked her name, or offered to make breakfast, or something.

Well I love you so dearly I love you so clearly
Wake you up in the mornin’ so early
Just to tell you I got the wanderin’ blues
I got the wanderin’ blues
And I’m gonna quit these ramblin’ ways
One of these days, soon

And I’ll sing

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs..

Unfortunately, in my rush to get out of the building, I forgot to print out the directions which explained how to walk to the Royal Albert once I made it to the nearest station. (I still haven’t taken a bus, and I’m kind of curious to see how long I can go without doing so.) I realized my mistake about a third of the way home, and thought about coming back for it, but I figured I could survive with my trusty London A-Z map/atlas. It’s far and away the most useful of the “Welcome to London” travel pack that Richard had kindly assembled for me when I first arrived; I never go anywhere without it.

When I arrived at the station, I figured I had enough time to stop for something to eat. The station opened into a small, brightly-lit mall (they had a Marks & Spencer, and I think a drugstore; you get the idea.) There was also a Pret a Manger there, and I’d heard their sandwiches were good, so I thought I’d try one as I studied the map and tried to figure out which route was shortest. With the first bite of the sandwich, I didn’t know what to think, but by the third I realized it was great. It took longer to tell than it should have because the “mixed lettuce” has a very distinct taste.. leaves mixed with branches. It’s tasty, but it’s like the taste colours are drawn from a very different palette than I’m used to, and the elderberry juice added to the sense of unreality.

Well it’s times like these
I feel so small and wild
Like the ramblin’ footsteps of a wanderin’ child
And I’m lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill
Singin’ these blues with a warble and a trill
But I’m not too blue to fly
No I’m not too blue to fly ’cause

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs..

Left the station and went looking for Exhibition street. Once I found it I should only need to go north for a few blocks and the Royal Albert would be on my left. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to find the street, and I have what seems to me a perfectly natural dislike of asking directions. So after twenty minutes or so of wandering around the area, which was nice — lots of expensive-looking restaurants, with the occasional laundromat scattered in their midst for variety — I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere.

I hurried back to the station so I could consult The Book, and it was just as I was entering the mall/station that I remembered the last street I’d walked up was Kensington Church Street, and I was on was Kensington High Street.. so why was the map in my head centred on the South Kensington station?

Yep. I’d looked up the directions for getting there from the wrong station, and somehow the enormous KENSINGTON HIGH STREET signs all over the station and the several announcements on the train had failed to sink in.. not really designed for travelling, am I?

(In my defence, I was still a little oxygen-deprived from the Tube trip, and I think disorientation is a symptom of sudden hypoxia.)

Ten minutes later, I was at the box office, buying a ticket.

Well I love you so dearly
I love you so fearlessly
Wake you up in the mornin’ so early
Just to tell you I got the wanderin’ blues
I got the wanderin’ blues
And I don’t wanna leave you
I love you through and through

I made it just in time. They were announcing that the opening act would be on in three minutes when I was finishing the purchase (which was surprisingly involved; who knew they’d ask for a postal code?! which I got wrong!?), and I didn’t look forward to admitting my various idiocies if I didn’t make it.

As you’ve probably guessed from the lyrics — that impossibly catchy song from the Zellers commercial — I’d gone to see Vancouver “deep country” / alt-country / new-bluegrass / Americana band The Be Good Tanyas, on tour in support of their new album Hello Love (click for previews.) I’m not actually too sure what deep country is, but it’s one of those phrases which makes you think you’d recognize the sound if you hear it.. I should ask over at Idiot Strings, he’s my go-to guy for music knowledge.  They’re the sort of Canadian band I always expect to hear followed by stories about Dave and Morley in that unmistakable voice..

I’d also wanted to see the Royal Albert Hall, which is quite storied in itself.

The opening act, Kathyrn Williams, was pretty good. She sings kind of everyday-emo stuff, and has a keen eye for relationship observations. I liked her opening song best but can’t remember what it was called or what it was about, and can’t find the right clip on her website at the moment.

But I’d come for the Tanyas, and to support the Canadian contingent, and they did their part beautifully in return. Most of the songs were quite good, even the weakest were still pretty background noise, and four or five of the songs were borderline-transcendent. I’ve noticed this before, and it may be saying more about me than about the performance: there’s a fine but very knotted line drawn between bluegrassy guitar which makes me smile and that which stops me in my tracks. (Ootischenia does just that, which I doubt is the one you’d guess.) For my money, the best work was done by Trish Klein on harmonica. It’s always easy to overlook the harpist, but she really did an amazing job.

Glad I went. Wasn’t sure if I was going to, hence my putting off buying an early ticket. Turns out it wouldn’t have been a problem, there were plenty of seats left in the section, but the place was impressively full for such an obscure band. Even assuming that a third of the people there were Canadians, that’s still a lot of Englishmen: I wonder if the Hall has a subscription program of some kind for regular visitors who are interested in all sorts of music. Given all the personal information they extracted out of me, I guess I’ll find out!

Well, I left my baby on a pretty blue train
And I sang my songs to the cold and the rain
And I had the wanderin’ blues
And I sang those wanderin’ blues

And I’m gonna quit these ramblin’ ways
One of these days, soon

And I’ll sing

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs..

I only had a few complaints.

The first is that there was a guy in the row behind, maybe in his upper twenties, who decided that one of the quieter songs was a perfect time to start chatting with his girlfriend. When he was eventually asked to stop talking, he did, but he burst out laughing a few seconds later. This made the forty-something guy who’d told him off so angry that he turned, loudly cursed him, and stormed off to different seats, leaving his companion behind. Later, during a break, he motioned for her to come down, but she refused, presumably mortified, and stayed in my row. Admittedly the stormer needs better impulse control, but the other guy needs to learn some courtesy. I feel bad for the woman: she got the worst of all worlds, the noise and the embarrassment and the solitude. The whole episode was distracting.

The second is that I would’ve preferred a longer main set. At the end I was hungry for more, which isn’t a bad way to leave an audience, but the encore was short. And they didn’t do “The Littlest Birds”, which is an encore song if ever I’ve heard one..

Final review: Williams: B, but correct that upwards for the fact it’s not really my genre. Tanyas: A. Sandwich: A+, with special mention of forest-floor-y goodness.

My only regret is that I know someone who would’ve very much enjoyed the concert, and felt somewhat haunted by her presence. I’m getting used to it, though.

I don’t care if the sun don’t shine
I don’t care if nothin’ is mine
I don’t care if I’m nervous with you
I’ll do my lovin’ in the wintertime

Winter is coming, they say.