London Can You Wait...

Oh, how we love to play the Cardiff Barfly. The soundman is such a G he wears sunglasses in doors because hasn't slept for a month and makes stuff so loud even deaf ole me can feel it in his ass. Always there are the ingredients for a fine sandwitch on the bar. Always there is a room full of bright, beautiful, bouncing pobl. I go nuts. Evils supported last night, and played ear shredding post-house from inside a wendy house. He was ace. I played some Chamillionaire and some Billy Joel. Then we did a searlingly visceral gig, in front of friends old and new, and afterwards we were reunited in inebriacy with Martin and Mary and The Goblins and my people B and Wee James who I aint seen in YEARS... Etc am byth. A wonderful night, there will be recorded proof online soon, I am told.

We are on our way to London now, to tear Madamme Jo Jos anew batty hole. Will you join us?

Hurrah!

In case you are unsure, read ye a bit of Dr Adam Walton's review of the Wrexham show. Forsooth:

This was the best I had seen Akira. Admittedly, it's only the third time, but each time he gets markedly better. His delivery was sharp and musical. The chemistry between him, Jeres and Mary is so unaffected... in fact, for someone who presents himself in a cartoon fashion - whether via the illustrations on his website, in his videos, or via the peroxide on his bonce - there isn't an iota of artifice about Akira or his colleagues. They're the most genuine musicians and orators I I have met. Because they're not burdened by any need to be cool, or adhere to anyone else's notions of what might be cool, they fly, they dizzy, they entertain, they amuse and they provoke... There is an intoxocating confidence about their demeanour and the songs. Back in the Day was restored to its Proustian, heart-strumming glory. Thanks For All the AIDS made us think and laugh and Oh! provoked a minor bout of dancing. A man in an Akira t-shirt was pulled onto the stage and Akira placed him on a little stand. "The world's smallest catwalk," said Jeres, and we all laughed. Then, far too shortly, they were gone. It's a good strategy to leave us wanting more. I believe that Adam, in the past, has had a tendency to perform whenever anyone was willing to give the organ grinder a ha'penny. Now you know that it's he who is thoroughly in control. Short note to say that Jeres' solo in Oh! was marvellous and that Mary Turner wiped Winter's dull, cold ache of forboding and gloom away with her mere presence. When she sang, heaven moved that little bit closer to earth, and that's one mighty trick if you know how to do it.