Greenbelt , Personal

A Tiring Weekend

I'm nearly recovered from the weekend. I was in Devon celebrating my brother's impending marriage. Lots of noise, some rock climbing on Dartmoor, a barbeque, plenty of tea (and other beverages)... a most enjoyable weekend.

Looking round I realised that everyone there was a Greenbelter. I started going to Greenbelt when I was at school, and it became the one guaranteed opportunity to catch all my old friends. We still camp together, and each year the camp expands as new friends from our new lives join in. I love these "unofficial communities", the personalities and banners (we used to pitch under the name Freshly Toasted). It all contributes to that most comforting of feelings that strikes me at the festival: I'm home.

(This entry was originally posted on the Greenbelt Blog.)

Arts , Greenbelt

I'm a Little Over-Excited

I've been waiting for today since 15 September '98.

That evening, at Dingwalls in Camden, I saw the best gig of my life: a powerful, eccentric, soaring, emotional performance that left me reeling. Even the unknown support act impressed. And while the support act's since released three heavily plugged and widely accepted albums, and 'become' David Gray, I've had to wait until this morning to get a second chance to hear the songs that the headline act, Maria McKee, debuted that night.

I should really wait a week before enthusing about Maria McKee's High Dive; I'm too emotionally involved to make an unbiased judgement, but I'm too excited to keep this to myself and besides, emotion is what characterises this album best. Emotion and melodrama, rock and pop mixed with strings and horns. Stunning. Beautiful. Complex.

High Dive replaces the grungy guitars from its 1996 predecessor Life is Sweet with depth and orchestrations, though the passion and pain remains. It's hard to draw comparisons to other artists, especially when so many singer-songwriters have crowded into the scene this past decade. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Highly recommended.

(This entry was originally posted on the Greenbelt Blog.)

Arts , Greenbelt

aqualung and the Need for Air

I go to way too few gigs these days. In fact, prior to Sunday I'd not been to any this year. It was all a bit confusing. I'd left my cash in the car, so drinks were singular (and that was bought for me). I was surprised to be surrounded by such a diverse crowd; I almost forgot how to behave.

Sunday night. Cambridge Junction. aqualung.

Another thing surprised me: two people fainted, right there beside us. (It was a hot venue.) Both young, and I suspect like me not regular gig-goers. Matt Hales' years of fronting a band shone through: he continued to the end of the song, then gently checked, "is everything alright down there?".

But this is all beside the point. aqualung were superb, adding real depth to the songs from their album. The highlight was a cover (River Song by Dennis Wilson; smart to cover a song from a deleted album), but the passion, style and vitality of the gig was distinctly their own.

Catch them if you can; the tour runs 'till the weekend.

(This entry was originally posted on the Greenbelt Blog.)

Greenbelt , Tech

Geeks, Christians and Pottery

Money might not get you to heaven, but it can buy you a domain name. I'm not sure I go along with christian.co.uk's description premium domain name for religious site so much as the alternative could also be for someone with a first name of Christian.

Intriguingly the seller is also offering a large double-handled tube lined vase -- suitable for hiding your light in, or those water-into-wine moments I guess.

I love the web; where else would Christianity, pottery and geekdom collide?

(This entry was originally posted on the Greenbelt Blog.)

Personal

Dinosaur Accounts

You know the dream where you unearth a bank account you opened as a child? Where the last statement you received said you'd only put a pound in, but when you get to the bank you discover the compounded interest has made you a millionnaire?

Today I closed an account that I'd not touched in fifteen years. Back then, it contained £1.03.

The interest earnt in my absence? Fifty-eight pence. It almost covered the cost of the car park.