Monday is the new Saturday. There are more than enough people in Pivo Pivo to justify that assertion. I suspect she is actually telepathic as she knows what I am going to ask for before I ask for it. Either that or predictability has become the new black and I have become a slave to fashion. Come to think of it, Guinness is also black and so is her hair. Patterns patterns everywhere.
Ha! The voice in my head (and there are many) says “I recognise her!” For and verily, it is Christie Connor-Vernal doing the rock singer looking for a rock band thing with just an acoustic guitar. With a voice like hers, she is surely destined to lead a rock band. She also has black hair. Patterns patterns everywhere.
Next to occupy the stage is Johnny Graham, a singer of songs in the key of inoffensive. He also looks like archetypal singer songwriter from the right side of town complete with half thought out facial hair, slitter catcher scarf and inward bound intensity. Then he is gone and I ask her what his name was. My quest for knowledge knows no bounds and she always has the answer.
Onwards to the mellow melancholy of Mount Analogue. One man and an acoustic guitar again but this time seated, our new best friend is so sensitive that he could be soap sans parfum. I’d invite him to my next party but I like to play with guns…
Taking us up to fried food time were San Antone. From the name, you would quite rightly suspect mid-American influences and, with the echoing guitar expositions and female harmonies, their set would provide the proof that your suspicions were true. Easy on the ear, San Antone eased me smoothly out into the night.
Talking of the night, it is time once more to run the gauntlet through Junkie Alley (I believe it is called the front of Central Station on Google Maps) to the kebab shop. No wonder I have ‘Nam flashbacks.