Talent and Torment

Was out with Stephen Art-East last night, we went to see Boy George at Bush Hall - AKA my new favourite venue. The place is a preserved Edwardian ballroom with ornate plasterwork on the walls and ceiling and amazing crystal chandeliers. Alongside the magnificence of the building, it is possibly the only remaining venue in London that doesn't over sell beyond capacity so there is plenty of room to move, get to the bar and dance without getting uncomfortably close to your neighbours. Hooray!

We arrived in time to see Amanda Ghost, the support act - a bland singer / songwriter who would have seemed more at home on a cruise ship or at a live music night at the pub. She kept doing "how you all feeling" crowd rowsing like she thought she was at G.A.Y., she got on my nerves a bit. Today I found out she co-wrote You're Beautiful for James Blunt, so I've decided she can fuck right off.

George came on soon after and played for about an hour. He did a mixture of old and new stuff, most of it reggae based. He included his cover of Ken Booth's Everything I Own alongside new tracks like Inhuman Nature and Ragga Music.

The latter proved to be a little bit embarrassing when he insisted on doing batty speak. He has a big black momma on stage doing Jamaican patois, when he joined in I found myself looking away with just the hint of a cringe. You're a lardy white bloke from Woolwich, George, get a grip of yourself.

After Do You Really Want To Hurt Me, annoying Amanda returned for the encore. She did lots of thank you, thank yous which I thought was a bit rude, she was only there to do back up, George should have pushed her off the stage. Finally we had Karma Chameleon and that was our blinkin lot.

The set was cool but a little samey, a change in tempo would have been nice - especially some Jesus Loves You.

I had heard the aftershow was at Yo! Suzi so, having lost Stephen along the way, I headed off to Vauxhall to bother Justin, Satanic and Ritchie. It was here I was to witness one the the worst live acts I've ever seen.

This week's star turn was Leaving the Fold, they have a fierce drummer who looks like Fiz from Corrie and beats the hell out of the "skins", but the rest are lanky geezers in drainpipes (drainpipes!) and the sound is a frightful din. Though the songs have a few words they mostly go "WWWAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH". Then they go quiet for a bit and then "WWWAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH". I was a jangle of nerves by the end.

Hung around a bit for George then found out he'd moved his party to Crash. Well, really! I didn't want to meet the fecker anyway. Had a cheek to cheek dance with Justin then skipped off into the night. Who needs pop stars when you've got pretty mates!