What I Did Last Night - Lael Neale at the Cumberland Arms

 

'Feel it closing in. The fear of whom I call..Day in day out..Day in day out..Day in day out..Day in day out..Day in day out....'.Joy Divison Digital

'When the day is done. Down to earth then sets the sun.' Nick Drake Day is Done 

There are differnt ways of dealing with days. The Joy Division intensity thing. The Nick Drake way  resignation, bucolic poetry and Stoic acceptance. Neither story ended happily. But the music. The essence, the lessons in life remain .

I  had a decidedly weird day yesterday. Morning was technology purgatory. I lost my phone. It's somewhere in my flat still. It drove me slightly crackers for a few hours. I'll spare you the grisly details of my moodshifts.

 We're all so beholden to technology these days. Let's face it it's our master. I grew up in a world where people talked and there was no expectation of instant gratification and the subsequent emotional rollercoaster we're expected to ride. Of rage, distress, lust, error,  elation and occasionally, very occasionally love and harmony., Peace.  We're masters of technology it's there to serve us. Frankly you wouldn't know it. The way things are heading.

'Put down your phone, relax and float downstream...'

I taught two good classes. That was the best thing about my day. First with D**** . A fabulous, wise and articulate woman who should be running the company she works for but would prefer to focus her governing energies on motherhood and partnership. On being a decent person. I fed in some language when I could. A few sentences to tweak her automation in terms of her register. 

I appreciate these one to one sessions with D****. I learn more than I teach. The best lessons. Consider that your CELTA Certificate. Your PGCE. Go armed with that knowledge and you might make a decent fist of teaching. It's a great thing to do. It's not about the teacher is the fitst thing you need to process and activate. 

My second class was early in the afternoon with young students from various disciplines at The University of Cologne. German, Turkish, Spanish, Polish. All bright and bushy tailed. Keen as mustard. Just lacking the rigour sometimes to bash their ideas into sentences, paragraphs and on from there to PHDs and such like. I do my best to arm them for these endeavours. I always like teaching this group

In between classes I go to the Vodaphone outlet in the mall. I dislike these rituals. I just want a phone that works . I hate the bother But I have an interesting encounter this morning with the guy behind the desk . With an affable thirty something with a fine mane of hair and an engaging manner. He's working his way from the inside out it turns out. I suspect his heart is not in what he does for a living. We chat about the modern condition. The need for instant gratification. 

It's clear to me that the modern smartphone is the greatest enemy to calm and stress free living. I could og on and on and on We all live with the contradictions. This guy is selling a new one to me and I am struggling to follow the stream of tech related information he is speedily rolling out to me so I can get my new phone up and running when I get home.

To cut a long story I didn't lose my mind. I assembled my phone, fed in the updates, charged it up and checked out Alma Thomas, who the affable musician Vodaphone guy had suggested as the antidote to all modern evils.. He's also a musician. So we'd talked about Jazz. Miles, Ella and Nina. Television and The Cars. Bono. Hmm. We agreed on Bono. I don't mean Sonny Bono.

I forget what else .we talked about. But it was one of  those conversations that you wish you'd recorded to dismantle, disect and reassemble later. In return for Alma Thomas I gave him Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers. He'd never heard of either. The gap in younger people's knowledge confuses me sometimes..

Anyway my day like Nick's is almost done. A slight moment of dreadful  chill and horror seizes me when I spot a circular email from a middle manager which starts 'I''m reaching out' sent out to all the teachers at the school I work with.  No thanks I don't really want you to 'reach out to me' thanks. I have enough on my plate. I imagine plenty of others do too. 

Do people have no idea. Do they actually think they are good at their jobs. That this is what middle managers imagine they should do to justify their positions . To denigrate, insult, patronise and demotivate hard working professionals who possibly have more experience and qualifications than they have, There are no words sometimes..

Anyway I'm off . It's early evening. Ir's sunny. Sllghtly balmy . Like many older people I'm beginning to overdress. The Quayside 'looks so medieval. It seems to flap like little pages.' I'm sorry I always go back to those lines. That idea that life can seem so realised that you almost feel like you're participating in a comic strip. You feel so alive. A lot of people are already drunk and reeling. It happens a lot in Newcastle. Particularly on Friday nights coming to the end of May. 

I'm quickly through Ousebourn find myself mounting the grassy stone stairwell towards The Cumberland Arms. I always get a great sense of anticipation as I do this. Invariably I have great nights at The Cumberland Arms. Lael Neale the elfin Californian is playing tonight. It's another of Walter's Wandering Oak bills. Walter never fails.

The front garden of The Arms is heaving with happy youths and happy adults. The queue to the bar stretches out of the front door. I get served in time. I really shouldn't have worn this jacket. I spot Walter in the back bar where the fiddlers are warming up for their evening session. I try to chat to him but he's busy. Eventually I get his attention.

Should I get a ticket Walter? He's sold out! Oh well . I turn to go. But not before saying how good Lael Neale is and what a treat of an evening everyone is in for . There is a debonair, immaculately turned iout man in framed in the doorway behind Walter. Like a character out of an episode of Mr Benn.

I get to the doorway of the Cumberland Arms. Walter calls my name and I turn back. The debonair man steps firward and speaks. He's an American. Polite tones. Gentle manner. A gentleman frankly. He says, 'Well would you like to attend as our guest.' I'm taken aback for a moment. Then thank him profusely and pump his hand. Walter says he'll make a note of it. I turn back into the garden with my cider. The evening's working out.

I'm feeling good. It's a bit close. It's closer upstairs in a sold out venue. I skip the first act. They're not to my liking. Slighfly boastful and the music not really to my taste. When I go up again the debonair American is sorting out his stage. I spot Chris from Prancy Dog in the opposite side of the stage. I go across to chat to him.

Chris, like Walter is fundamental to the Newcastle Independent scene. They both put on and have put on great shows at venues like The Cluny, The Cumberland Arms, The Lubber Fiend and anywhere else that will have.them.

Chris in short is an enthusiast and music lover and a very friendly man. We chat about his forthcoming trip to Japan. Gigs that are coming up. Gigs we have seen. This is the bond that people develop before these gigs ignite. You know you're with 'your people'

The debonair young man is warmed up and kicks off and immediately sets the night on fire. Thanks Jim. It's a good comparison. Both with Entrance who the young man is and with Lael Neale who he supports on stage later.

He starts to howl and weep into the night. The passion and intensity is immediate. This is the Story of the Blues and we're not taking Liverpool Pete Wylie. Chris and I agree it's something else. He says 'has anyone been to Baltimore' and there are a few muttered assents,

Baltimore must be some city. Randy Newman, Nina Simone, Diner, John Walters, The Wire, The Colts. Now you can add Entrance to that list. I'm going to look into his work .. He's played with the greats. Well Sonic Youth and Pavement anyhow. Check out his Wikipedia page for more details. Then check out his back catalogue for the finest American underbelly thrill imaginable.

Twenty mnutes more and Lael will headline. Chris and I chat some more. I'm getting tired. I wish I had a chair. What with the Tech rollercoaster this mirning I'm fading fast. It's very close in here. But actually that's the perfect atmospheric condition for what's coming next.

Lael is a slim small woman but she has presence. She's California. Slightly spooky and poised. My mind starts reeling when she and the debonair man kick off. He on keyboards, she on keyboards of her own..Occasional guitar. Like a Grand Canyon Suicide, Space Lady, Nancy and Lee, Mazzy Star, The Doors. Lael Neale and Guy Blakeslee, (for the debonair man is he). California Indie's King and Queen.

Chris and I both are standing there with our jaws dropped like dumbstruck types who possibly wanna be sedated.. Or do peyote ! I think of Lost in Music because this is how I feel .True enchantment and bliss. I don't see out the set but I make a point of shaking Guys hand before I make my way to the exit. Some gig. Some day !  

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