Events

The Script – Tour 2009

Posted on September 24, 2009 at 10:30 pm

So this is how the whole gig with The Script went down. Weeks before they were due to play, I sent L an email:

“Hey, wanna go see The Script?”
“I don’t know who they are, so no thanks.”

A couple of weeks after, L heard a song on the radio that she always liked but had never knew who the band was. It turned out to be Breakeven. She sends a message saying she really wants to go see them. Not gonna lie, I swore. Loudly. She becomes more fangirly than me which is hilarious. This means a lot less work on my side in terms of buying tickets, organizing the night out, etc. :D

The whole thing is like lulzy on one side but epic fail on the other.

We met in Chinatown for dinner, which was near the gig venue. L bought a bottle of wine to share over our greasy dinner. On our separate journeys to Chinatown, we both noticed a line forming outside the venue. Personally I thought it was a bit sad, but then again I’m easily pleased as long as I get to hear the band.

After dinner, we made our way to the venue, putting up with ID checks (are you guys SERIOUS?!) and a chilly wind. When we got in, we found a place right up the front towards the side, where there was a little door that said ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ and guarded by a bouncer.

Prior to the gig L and I discussed the fact that the Sydney gig sold out, and that was the only one open to all ages. This raised my concern to the type of crowd The Script attracted. I suspected they probably attracted emos and I was partly right, judging by the amount of black eyeliner, dyed black hair and oversized black sweaters present. L, in her vodka-induced state, proclaimed it attracted fatties. Er. No comment. I value my life, thanks.

At one point, while the opening act was playing, L and I caught Danny O’Donoghue peeking out from the ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ door. On two separate occassions. He grinned and waved like he couldn’t believe there was a huge crowd waiting for the band to come on. L was all fangirly. I had to maintain composure for er, review purposes. Yeah.

The crowd went berserk when The Script finally came out. They’ve only got one album out so they pretty much worked through about half of it. Not that I’m complaining – it’s an excellent album with some really catchy tunes. What initially caught my attention was how some of their verses almost came out as rapping. Mixed with rock music it was a fresh, different sound. Their best song live? Probably The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. I was a bit disappointed with the one ballad they did, I’m Yours, but I guess it comes down to personal preference. They got the crowd on a real high three-quarters through the set, only to slow it down. Might have been just me, but I found that a little bit awkward.

They closed the set with a cover of Heroes, which, I have to say, was so freaking awesome. Better than The Wallflowers’ cover.

Any band that panders to my delirium gets a big A++++ in my book. “Anyone from Ireland tonight?!” HEE.

Verdict – they are an awesome band live. They look like they are genuinely enjoying themselves and still cannot believe people are there to see them, and that people know the lyrics to their songs. That kind of overwhelming innocence is so rare these days. This makes them so much more awesome than Bloc Party. Or Kings of Leon. They are all so sweet and down-to-earth, and soooo dorky. <3

Sleeping in the next day was heaven. I’m glad I took the day off, not just to recover from the gig, but I think I needed a little time to myself regardless.

Noche Flamenca 2009 Tour

Posted on July 19, 2009 at 1:11 am

Home from watching Noche Flamenca. Ms Rosita was kind enough to have an earlier class today so I could run home to get ready, but I was still rushing.

We’d met a couple of the dancers earlier in the week. Madam Principal had organized two evenings of workshops. I signed up for Level 1, which felt more like Level 100, at the rate Juan Fernandez was going. He was a fabulous teacher, but he went at the pace of what flamenco dance schools in Spain apparently go. Which is the speed of light.

Unfortunately I couldn’t stay to watch the other two levels on the first evening, having to run off to tango lessons. Which sucked, I would have loved to have seen what Soledad Barrio taught the higher levels. Her performance made up for missing the first evening. I did manage to catch the second evening, but the teacher this time was El Torombo. The only way I could describe him at the class is: nuts.

Seriously. He played a snippet of flamenco music, mostly cante (singing) and then he stops, and his 5-minute ramble went something like this to my ear (and brain):

ElTorombo: Spanish spanish spanish spanish Bob Marley spanish spanish spanish Michael Jackson.
MyBrain: What. The. Fuck.

Cue him playing an MJ tune. I had to hide my face at that moment, though I am sure Madame Principal must have thrown me a dirty look at some point because I could not hide my shaking shoulders. Thankfully I did not start howling with laughter. He was a strange fellow, you had to see his antics. I understood what he was trying to explain at some point, but really, did it need to involve metaphors of trains and borrowing a handbag to illustrate god knows what?

Gina and Ryn (my seniors) had warned he was even more flamboyant on stage. At one of the shows, he took off his shirt. I prayed to the gods I would not be witness to this, hoping that the improvisation so embedded in flamenco will keep that from being a repeat performance. His style is a lot less controlled than that of Barrio’s or Fernandez’s. It was a lot more fun, though. That’s not to say that Fernandez wasn’t as good, I loved his farruca, the strength in that piece was pretty amazing. And he’s just a really lovely dancer to watch, with a really friendly smile. Between Juan Fernandez and Joaquin Cortez, I pick Fernandez. Sorry Joaquin, you’re like the Ronaldo of flamenco, therefore, wtf.

So Gina and Ryn figured out the Spanish phrase for “Nice ass!” for when Juan Fernandez next came onstage, much to my horror. Look, he was a lovely teacher, very friendly, etc. but the urge to grab a pair of scissors to snip the mullet off? Unstoppable if I didn’t have any common sense. And then, karma is laughing somewhere and then he does this booty-swaying thing at the finale and my eyes bugged out, followed by an “OY VEY.” However, I would still not tap that. Come on. Ew.

(I was standing in the front row at the workshops. Karma is totally laughing at me.)

Soledad Barrio had my jaw on the floor the whole time. For one thing, none of her performances involved a bata de cola. Yes, it’s very impressive to dance with a skirt that has a long train, but it just gets kind of old if it’s used all the time. Gala Flamenca drove me bonkers when every single female dancer, including the great Belen Maya, danced wearing a bata de cola. Barrio kept her costumes simple, preferring to let the footwork do all the talking. Boy, did it talk. The speed of some of her footwork could put the Bionic Woman to shame.

After the show, Gina and Ryn wanted to find the stage door. I managed to persuade them to come get a drink at the bar first, not wanting to use my Stage Door Locating Skillz of We Will Rock You Origin superpower. Of course I doubt this particular show would attract many screaming groupies. Also, El Torombo scared the bejesus out of me, Barrio was just plain intimidating on account of being an Awesome Flamenco Dancer, and Fernandez, well, I did not have a pair of scissors, but I would have totally checked out his booty at that close a range and it would not have been very discreet.

So the entire week of flamenco overload is over. I’m partly glad, because I’ve had the flu, and now I can sleeeeeeeeep.

Small steps, one dance

Posted on May 12, 2009 at 8:11 pm

My back pretty much recovered before the performance. But, I’m still boggled at being in the very same show as… my teacher? The brain will never compute that in a million years.

The senior professional dancers of the company (which included Ms Rosita) basically coached us through the fine art of performing for a public audience. Namely, screaming at us to smile and not look like we didn’t want to be there. I dunno about the others, but the thought of dancing any flamenco in public makes me all kinds of ill. It gets worse when half the audience consists mostly of the equivalent of the Associated Board of The Royal Schools of Music. Which we had to have tea and cake with after the show WAT. Clearly no one questioned my unfortunate history with the piano.

I did invite Carina, Sarah and mini-Sarah Ella to come along to watch us. If we messed up, at lease watching the awesomeness of the professionals would totally make up for it.

Except I didn’t count on them screaming and waving like escaped mental patients during the guajiras. They even liked our costumes!

Now Ella wants to do flamenco. If the fan I used didn’t belong to the academy, I would have totally given it to her. I was really glad they came though – their support meant a lot even though my head was going wtf at their screaming/waving.

It’s probably helped me take that small step back to getting my heart into flamenco again. Returning from Malaysia, I found not all of me was there – during syllabus classes I would follow the best I can but not bother to remember anything. Open classes were the same thing. For the performance, I had forced myself to fake it for the sake of my wonderful guajiras compadres.

Healing takes a lot of time, and I wish my flamenco had not suffered as a consequence. Thankfully I have time to catch up. That’s not to say everything is okay now. It’s about taking each day as they come, and hoping for the best.

Friday Musings On A Sunday

Posted on December 14, 2008 at 9:56 am

My hangover is gone, and I’m not feeling so drained. Friday was absolutely insane. There were a few shockers at the big Christmas party, and I totally wished my senior had attended because she would totally have gone :O with me.

Those of us who went were suitably inebriated within an hour, despite having a decent lunch and drinking lots of water. We ended up on the dance floor, only for me to spy 5 employees we brought over from India getting down to the music. It wasn’t even half-decent dancing. It was the kind that would make you lol or go :O

I went :O and if I wasn’t so sloshed and contending with my own issues of staying on my feet, I would have totally recorded their little jigs and turns for my senior to see. At this rate if I tell her when she gets back from her honeymoon, she’ll accuse me of being so drunk I started to hallucinate. But mommy, it’s true! And it was horrifying/lolarious!

But that was just a small, separate part of what had transpired at the party. I was very glad to see L again, and this time she could drink, as she was pregnant the same time last year. She kept me in one piece, told me to relax and go with the flow, and stopped me from drinking my way to oblivion. She’s the only one at work who listened to my laundry list of gaffes and foibles in the last four months, and I did my best to take her advice, even if it meant putting up with her smirks on the dance floor.

Like L said, I need to start embracing emotional change instead of running away like I always do, using work/study/dance/etc as an excuse. I can only do my best to take her advice, and hopefully with her guidance (and smirking, sigh) I might be able to do just that.

Bloc Party 2008

Posted on December 1, 2008 at 8:26 pm

“Who’s Bloc Party?”
“WAT.”

Look, I may have heard a couple of songs here and there, but I would never have been able to actually name the band. My sheer laziness at attending proper gigs comes from a) not being able sit down and b) horrifying fangirls/boys. Sitting down is very important to someone who spends 99.99% of her time in high heels.

Anyway, presented by the opportunity to attend a real, ‘proper’ gig last week, I obliged, thinking I’d just end up the innocent bystander laughing at fanboyish tendencies.

The morning after agreeing to tag along, I received a cd containing Bloc Party’s first album and half of their second. I did look at it in slight distaste, expecting the the cd to radiate emo. Bypassing my usual morning serving of Spamalot, I gave Bloc Party a chance.

Well, I was assured my compadre has some taste in music, I did like enjoy it quite a bit. Although I horrified him by saying they sounded like Coldplay at times bwahahaha!! Though to be honest at times they reminded me very much of the Smashing Pumpkins. The play of lyrics with some of their songs was very, very captivating.

The gig was at an open-air park, with the gates opening a good few hours before the main act came on. We sat around in the sun, occassionally getting up to find more alcohol or food. The opening acts were nothing to shout about, though.

The sucky thing about a rock gig is when the filler music switched to Bootylicious, wanting get down was not a good idea. :( But you are meant to get up and shake it to Bootylicious! That is the whole point, otherwise why play it?! Also I think I was in a slightly rebellious mode, surrounded by a mix of rockers and rednecks, the urge to go all hip hop was too great. Maybe even to prove that yes, I listened to more than ‘boring’ music.

When Bloc Party finally came on, it was close to 9pm. Got dragged to my feet and we managed to squeeze into the edge of the crowd. There was a mosh pit going on as well. If it wasn’t a school night I’m sure my compadre would have been suitably drunk and in the thick of it. And I’d have enough blackmail pictures to buy Balenciaga bags in every model and colour!

Having said that, the loser bought a concert t-shirt in a rather hideous colour.

The performance was a lot of fun. They’re a great band live, I could not have asked for a better first live gig experience. I recognized some of their songs, but not knowing all was okay, because you could still get into it. There were some pretty tall rednecks in front so they blocked my view at times. Compadre tried to point out the lead guitarist, and I totally could not see anything so he had to lift me up at one point.

We left just as they came back onstage for the encore. Avoiding the nightmarish traffic getting out was a priority. After all, we are working professionals. My compadre had seen what he needed to see, so he was a happy fanboy.

We were so dead on our feet today, though.

Never again. Please?

Posted on August 30, 2008 at 10:04 pm

Thank you, Frederic Fekkai, for your magical hairspray that did not turn hair crunchy, nor did it take several washes to get out.

I cannot believe Madame Principal made us go first. As expected, I tripped during rehearsals, so I made sure I flicked the skirt slightly when I lifted my feet so it didn’t get caught. But that was the least of worries, when each of us suffered a mental blank when people started filtering in and taking their seats.

After the performance we could breathe and also pick at some of the tapas on offer… unfortunately we still had to pay for the wine (seriously, we should be getting it free). It wasn’t a good idea to drink right after performing, considering our part in the show wasn’t over yet, as we had to partake in the sevillanas at closing.

But that’s okay, since there were so many people on the floor and space was limited, I doubt anyone noticed us resorting to the macarena when Madame Principal left the damn sevillanas CD on repeat.

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