It is not often

you see the same musician two nights in a row (at very different venues, mind you). But it did give me a chance to observe how much it can all depend on the night and the circumstances. The first night she was a support act at a large venue (well large for our small hamlet, somewhere on the shady side of the Alps) and her performance was rather bleak. I had a feeling it could have been any band up there on stage. Just doing their job, nothing special. Luckily for me I have seen her before and I knew she could do better. So the next night I walked down to my local to see what she has for us today. What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours... So, after a slightly off day: welcome back Nadeah.

Monday

night concert.

Sea & air

Don't mind if I do (get some sea and sea breeze that is). 

Even though

I preferred the support act (Parliament attack), which was much more punk (even though, once I saw some of their photos from before I did start thinking that they might be a bit more planned - not quite on the level of the Sex Pistols,  Malcom McLaren and Vivienne Westwood) but some thought was put into their image and the way the want to come across (damn this consumer world in which even punk bands (supposedly fighting against it) fall under its charms), I still decided to post a photo of the main act (Spunk on toast), just because I liked this photo at the moment I started writing the blog, and because it is my blog and I can do whatever I want (ufff I need to be a spoiled twelve year old brat sometimes).
(The sentence above (yes, it is just the one) just shows that I have been working too much lately on translating scientific texts from Slovene (where they really like their long sentences, with a side order of a double espresso, for breakfast))

Angry songs

because the men (and women and children) in the street are angry. They are slowly running out of options to be anything else really. Slowly (I wrote slowly, and immediately (!) realised that this process is not really unwinding so slowly) all the rights our grandparents were fighting for in the war and our parents were streaking naked through the park (which I consider a more fun option than fighting wars - not to mention a less dangerous one) for, are being stripped away (yup, just like the clothes). So are we going to wither away in a dark, cold (well OK, not cold at this moment as we are just going through a heat wave) and damp corner, hoping to survive another pathetic week just so the two dates on our gravestones will be a bit further apart or are we actually going to do something about it?

I usually

really like this guy, but this time he was as prepared as a schoolboy on his first day of school after a really really long summer break during which he fell in love for the first time, learned how to swim, watched his parents get divorced, moved to a different town, got a puppy as a consolation prize and on the last day of the summer holidays got the newest, baddest, wickedest playstation game ever made.

Jagger

No, not Mick and the Rolling Stones. His kid brother Chris with his band.

A bit rough

on the edges and in the core, the duet managed to scare away two English girls sitting at the table next to me before the concert started (c'mon guys how am I supposed to get to know any girls if you scare them away?)