The Wake

Last Sunday (or was this a few weeks ago…) I went down to Trafalgar Square for the Chinese New Year Celebration. They had a large stage with several Kung Fu and dance acts. I then went over to the China Town area for some authentic Chinese cuisine. The festivities concluded with the last of a series of hourly fire works displays in Leicester Square. I then separated from my friends, and went to go find a pub that was playing the Cameroon v. Egypt match before going to a concert in the area that night. It was the final of the African Cup of Nations. I went to four different pubs and they were all playing the Liverpool v. Chelsea, a regular season premiership match up.

Finally, I tired out the Basement Bar. I went in and saw that there was only one small T.V. in the packed restaurant area, and it was right in front of the biggest table in the center of the room. Conceding defeat, I went down the stairs in the back to use the bathroom. My ears pricked up half way down. Through a set of heavy doors came the unmistakable sound of a Funk band in action. I entered, and saw that it was just the band warming up, not set to play for another couple hours. I hung out for a while and chatted, but then remembered my objective, and set out to find the game. Back in the restaurant, things were still packed, except that large table had cleared. I went over and turned the game on, and sat down. A large group rolled in. They went to the bar, except the oldest member of the group, a 60 – 70 year old man named Stanley. He asked I was saving the table for a group. I told him I was just here to watch the game, and that I disposable if they needed the table. He it humorous that an American would be concerned with a football match, and told me I could stay. The rest of his group joined us. We discussed Football, the MLS, American Politics, and Gordon Brown, the prime minister. We also discussed the sorry state of American beer. Stanly demanded that I try a classic British beer, or a “Bitter Beer” as he called it. It’s on a hand pump system, not a tap. “It keeps things movin’ inside” described Stanly, “You can taste the movement.” It was quite good. Egypt ended up winning the game, and I ended up stumbling out of the Basement Bar with 4 “Bitter Beers” securely in stomach.

I then went up Charring Cross Road, taking a left and then a right into a tiny alley way. This came at the instruction of my friend Chris whom I met at the Explosions in the Sky concert. I was meeting him and his friends at Bradley’s Spanish Bar. It was extraordinarily small, but there were comfortable booths and juke box filled with 7 inch singles. They had some modern tunes from Bloc Party and Spoon, along with some classics. A man in his 50’s barged in, tripping over the door frame; he got up and demanded to know why the music had stopped. He was intoxicated, as we demonstrated by his slurred speech and inability to stand properly. He challenged everyone in the bar to a fight, and then claimed to have been David Bowie’s guitarist. He entered a pound, selecting, “Life On Mars,” and a few Lou Reed songs.

After a few beers we went down to the Astoria to see Les Savy Fav. Click here for the review.