The Wake

Late one evening, it was decided that we should head to a nightclub called Turnmills in Farringdon, near Kings Cross Station (of Harry Potter fame). The club was set to have over 20 DJ’s play throughout the night, including from members of Hot Chip and Macabees, and proper sets from The Metros and Fisherspooner. On top of that, there were gift bags at the door, and free Ice Cream and hair-cuts inside.

We arrived early and went to a local bar. There was a Spanish league game on, and struck up a convo with a fellow fan named Johan. He was a Kurd from Iraq who’d lived in London for over 5 years now. His perspective on the war was unlike anything I had heard. He explained that the kurds want independence. They’re spread throughout …

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Sometime last week I went and practiced with the Imperial College Medical Basketball team. Imperial’s actual team had already held tryouts, but the medical team was willing to give me a shot. The team was comprised primarily of Asians, Indians, a Swede named Ole, polish kid named Demitri, a British kid named Alvin, and a Portuguese coach. They all had British accents, except for the coach, and they all played the most unorthodox style of ball I’ve ever seen in my life. No fundamentals, but they could all score in some way or another. The gym was old and cluttered with badminton nets and mini soccer goals, a major safety issue given the mere foot of out of bounds separating the court and the brick wall surroundings. The Portuguese coach wore his long hair back …

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On my way home from downtown late one weekend night, I stepped off the bus near my flat to the sound of frighteningly serious chanting around the corner. I opted to investigate, and was astounded at the return. The organized chaos was coming from the Islamic Cultural Center of London, which was evidently a few blocks from my place. The large courtyard in-front of the building was filled with ceremoniously garbed Muslims, arms around shoulders, shouting in unison. I entered the yard and enquired about the cause of such excitement. It was none other than the annual holiday of Ashura. The meaning of this was explained to me but, unfortunately, I can’t recite it to you now, as it was over a week ago by now and I was well drunk at the time. I …

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I’m a little behind in my blog posting, as it’s been a whirlwind second week here in London. I’ll start with last Saturday. I went to a small basement club in the Tottenham area of Central London. I was initially denied at the door with the explanation of, “No football or rubgy shirts allowed.” I attempted a response but the pony tailed ogre was in no mood. He took a brisk step forward, placed his nose an inch from mine, and repeated, “NO FOOTBALL OR RUBGY SHIRTS ALLOWED,” this time with the full force of his baritone behind it. Unfortunately, I was the last in my group at the door, so I was on my own to hatch a solution. I went around the block asking strangers on their way in if I could temporarily …

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The Lionheart Brothers, straight outta Trondheim Norway, made their way to the Oxford Circus in London on Monday night to play The Social. I had originally intended to take the tube down to Ealing Broadway to watch a match and enjoy some discount pints. I stood at the station, with my Ipod on for some 15 minutes, nose in a book, before I realized there was no longer anyone else waiting. Apparently the message delivered earlier by the station attendant, whose accent was too thick for comprehension, had made clear the breakdown of the Bakerloo Line. Fortunately, I wasn’t entirely alone. There was a particularly short Irish girl who’d also missed the memo. We discussed the matter for a minute, decided to attempt a bus route together. While on the bus, I picked up a …

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I boarded my plane for London at 9:30pm in Chicago on Thursday. I had a window seat, with only one seat next to me. I watched excitedly as numerous diverse and seemingly interesting people walked slowly by, scanning the number above the seat. To my utter dismay, it was none other than a 70 year old man with a severe cough and strangely sprouting facial hair who finally sat down. He had a troubling tendency for putting his hands down his sagging pants, and was constantly standing up for unexplained reasons. To drown out the incessant hacking and wheeze infested breathing, I plugged my headphones into the seat and tuned in for some Radio. Coincidently, the first song I heard was “England Swings” by Roger Miller. It’s a classy, ’60s pop song, and might be …

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Conor Oberst made his return to the 400 Bar in Minneapolis on Saturday the 29th and Sunday the 30th of December. Oberst has a history of playing the 400; he was 18 for his debut on the 400 Bar’s stage. “It was the first place to ever pay me to play outside of Omaha.” He explained. Bill Sullivan, brother of owner Tom Sullivan, now manages Bright Eyes.
He played a set of entirely original material before returning for an encore. The encore consisted of Bright Eyes, “covers,” as Conor called them. “Southern State” and “A Man Named Truth” were two among them. The originals (listed below) are believed to be potential tracks for his two forthcoming releases. He plans to record both a solo album and a combined effort with his Saddle Creek companion, M. Ward. …

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It’s a big world outside. Terrific new bands from every corner of the world pop up each day. Keeping up with all the hot new bands in your home city, let alone entire continents at large, can be maddening.
Often times I’ll think about all the American bands with whom I’m currently enthused. I realize that, as good as they are, many will soon be forgotten. Given that only a handful of foreign bands hit it big each year in the States, I conclude that an unimaginable number of delightful songs will never reach my ears. It’s with this in mind that I’ve started this blog.
As a student at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities, I’ll be traveling to London for Spring semester, 2008. I’ve secured an internship with one of the top booking agencies in …

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