Londonward

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been to some really seedy rock bars with sticky floors and ramshackle wall decorations or just my general mood, but London has felt like it was basking in that supposed day that was never shown, only hinted at, in The Crow. There’s been a strange hazy smoke hanging in the air, making anything further than just across the street slightly out of focus. My day was slow and unhurried, only picking up in the evening once the surprising heat had died down a little. I saw one of the sides of multifaceted London that I rarely see, and it was pretty cool. I felt a bit of a connection to this city and the multitudes of different kinds of people that inhabit it, in a way more than ever before. I can’t say I felt at home, but I did feel I could come to grips with some of it.

I’m also fully aware that whatever I’ve written above probably makes absolutely no sense. Doesn’t matter.

Deep in the bowels of the Old Building of the LSE, they’ve opened the lockers that were left closed over the summer. I walked past rows and rows of abandoned lockers, doors hanging open, the locks wrenched out. Inside, fascinating snapshots of students’ lives: swimming goggles, razors, pairs of shorts and other clothing, bottles of water, a dessiccated cactus, an opened and used mail-in chlamydia test, folders, books and magazines…

You might score some nice loot if you were so inclined.

Seeing how aghast I was when I heard that a guy I met (to pick up a key for a friend of mine) had been at work until 2:30am on Friday night he just looked at me frankly and said “that’s how it is in this line of business”.

I was coming down off an absolutely epic bank holiday weekend full of food, friends, music, shouting and not very much sleep and must have looked an absolute state. To be honest, right now I feel his line of business (investment banking) dehumanises their young recruits while enticing them with the prospect of good money. But what good is money if you’re only spending it on fast food delivered to the office or, worse, coke to get you through the night? While I dread looking through my receipts for the weekend, I didn’t spend extraordinary amounts of money - I got enjoyment from having a pint with friends, singing along to silly songs and sitting down for an 8-person Sunday lunch that stretched into a wine-fuelled afternoon lounging on a rooftop. You know what I mean. I don’t think I’d trade it for the world even though I was a little tired this afternoon at work. I’d rather have it that way - that my free time makes its presence known in my work rather than the opposite.

But then again, maybe earning a whole lot somehow compensates for 16-hour work days. I wouldn’t know, as I haven’t had the chance to try.

Maybe going to the third Turisas show within a year will compensate for the fact that I’ve never actually bought any of their records. This one was in the tiny box that is the upstairs of the Barfly in Camden. One of the support bands, Witchsorrow, sound like they adore their Black Sabbath, and that’s not a bad thing. I think most if not everyone was there for the headliner though, and they did not disappoint.

Turisas played a short set, mostly songs off the new album, belting them out with experienced confidence. Seeing them play several times highlights the relative lack of material, though - what they do play is fun but at the same time expected. Do they not get bored of the same songs themselves, playing them night after night?

I’m actually quite glad they did not play for longer, as the relentless screamalong and silly dancing got to me about halfway through and I started to crave fresh air. Sitting at the bar downstairs after the band had finished I found the answer to the question I’ve posed about meeting bands: I guess you just have to wait and then have the confidence to go and talk to them. They won’t bite, and will leave if they don’t feel like talking. Of course, it was idle chit-chat but it was fun anyway.

This morning I am sore and feel like just staying in bed. Can that be considered a sign of a good night out?

Oh, and I do appreciate the irony of going to see Finnish bands in London. Multiple times.

Picture at the top nicked from Jo’s Flickr set.