I have not written for a small while, it is true. I finished that "mixtape" and celebrated by joining my mad eyed, house-seized Atlantan friend Trey at Lupe Fiasco's Cargo gig. It was rather fun. I got drunk, Trey did some good natured wooing, and Lupe, displaying a rare foreknowledge of his foreign audience, spat something along the lines of,
Lupe The new Jay But when I'm in the UK Call me the new Sway
Ho ho, we thought, and all was pritty good, until after four songs dude ran out of Kanye instrumentals to rap over, and took to rhyming half heartedy over his album tracks, raps and all, not even bothering to do anything with the choruses save wave his glasses about. But, despite the seeming unarsedness, dude was pretty charming. And he does spit with confidence, and clarity. Clarity is important. I mumble too much - but I have boundless energy. So I get away with it.
The next day, I was beavering away in my lab, when I got a message from Jimbob's manager, giving me a heads up regarding the surprise Carter USM reunion at that night's Barfly gig. I accepted the man's generous invitation, and with much excitement, descended upon the foul carcass of Camden town. Jimbob was brilliant, Jimbob + Fruitbat etc. was beautiful, old Carter songs were a joy to hear... But it was the Jimbob solo songs that were the best, oddly: Feral Kids was oldpunk mastery, and Angelstrike was just fucking stunning - get your ass on iTunes or whatever and find that song, it is fucking immense.
I got disgustingly drunk that night too, ending up in a gay bar, oddly enough, upsetting my friend Luke by getting more unwanted attention than him, and the next day the hangover to insult all hangovers, laugh at their shoes and run off with their mum's accompanied me on an arduous, confused, and expensive journey to Haye On Wye, where I missed The Goblin Wedding itself... but at least saw the speeches, and video footage of the young Goblin Baz doing intense and freakish Liam Gallagher impressions as a teenager. (Huw Stephens was indeed, an excellent, gracious, and considerate best man.) We were later treated to mid-twenties Liam Gallagher impressions, as the newlywed Goblin performed a cover version of Live Forever that moved Martin Carr to such an intense state of drunken emotion, he fled the building and fell on his arse in the mud, missing most of my acclaimed DJ set and ruining his lovely suit. And The lovely Goblin Bride herself, a vision of grace and lunacy, chainsmoking with zeal and weeping like a drunken newborn.
It should be noted that I forgot to dress posh for the wedding, and was thus the only boy there without a tie. And with a hoodie. But my acclaimed DJ set saved the day, quite frankly, so I would hope for my insulting attire and extreme tardiness to have been forgiven. I should also take the opportunity to thank Sweary Mary and Mashup Carr for saving my non-hotel-booking ass from a wet night sleeping in a barn. And to congratulate The Goblins on their beautiful day. A wedding is always a beautiful thing - even on a wet Saturday like yesterday, in this foul year of our lord, 2006, but a Goblin Wedding is like a school disco with more in the way of boobs and facial hair, and it will never be forgotten by any if us. Apart from, perhaps, Martin, who was so drunk I sincerely doubt if he remembers any of it. I for one, will be haunted by the memory of his remorselessly abrasive DJ set for the rest of my todd. And yo, there was a fucking double rainbow in Hay On Wye yesterday. DOUBLE RAINBOW for the Goblin Wedding! Amen.