Was that me? I ask, as cold beer soaks through my trousers after a loud crash of breaking glass. I hadn't noticed knocking the table, which isn't to say that I'm positive I didn't but it does seem highly unlikely. Yes says the woman on the other side of the table. I would say 'girl', but in the unlikely event that she reads this I want her to think that she looks old, out of spite.
Oh dear, I'm sorry I'll help you clear it up, I say as some bloke grumpily starts to pick shards of glass out of his expensive trainers. We'd both been hit pretty bad by the nasty lager. Oh no, don't worry honey she patronises, Just sit down before you do anymore damage. She takes my arm and helps me to my seat.
I am at Joe Publics because one of my favourite bands is playing for free and I haven't seen them for a few months. I hadn't banked on the late night clientelle, besuited office nights out and young students.
I'm sure they hadn't banked on the quiet looping music of Garnett James, who layers pretty harmonies together and somehow invariably ends up with his original guitar loop sounding as if it's being played on an echoey piano. Given that he plays so early, the boy does an admirable job of creating haunting atmospherics in the almost empty space while the big screen continues showing girls shaking their booty on MTV.
There is quite a contingent here to see The Master Chaynjis, who are a violin/double bass/guitar trio that plays twisted gypsy-pop. The music is fairly generic but they get a good reception but it's all a bit much for me. It all seems a bit cabaret and mundane for me but to be fair, I'm too sucked into conversation to really listen. I'll probably see them again in a couple of weeks and I promise I'll concentrate harder (and perhaps be more cruel, I don't know).
Angel Tech play a solid set once again and not everybody leaves, although the crush of suits and students by the bar is pretty difficult to navigate. I have written about them enough, but every human being in the world needs this music in their lives buy the CD's here.
So I only have two pints. It dawns on me that the shattering glass probably wasn't my fault and that it was in fact her who had bumped into the table and knocked a pint all over me and the floor. Treating me as if I'm drunk and hastily jumping into the breach enables her to blame a stranger, possibly cause a fight and save face in front of her townie friends. Needless to say, they leave pretty quickly before I say anything. Lucky escape I mutter to myself as beer trickles into my shoes.
