Tuesday 21 April 2009

Sunday 19.4.09


I'm not sure how long the Tin Angel in Coventry has been open, a few years for sure. Its a bit of a hippie place, coffeeshop, come bar come cafe come rehearsal space come record shop come live music venue, and its just down the road from us. Until recently, I haven't been in the habit of going in there though, which is strange because it is the sort of place I like. Anyways, this lack of attendance is being well put to rights, mostly because Nick has got into going there, so we're beginning to become regulars. I'll speak this softly, but I think Nina may be a little miffed because she introduced us to the place and we may have uncooled it for her what with going in on our own.


The Tin runs several live music evenings, mostly of the open mic variety, so off we went as a foursome with Nick's colleague and her husband. I had spent a lot of the day in a proper low, and wasn't sure if I could make it. I was weepy in the afternoon, which I haven't been for a while. I perked myself up with lots of different music, thanks to Spotify, which I'm using more and more. By teatime, I was able to get myself into my new jeans and pink top. Nick paid me a compliment and I was all set. I don't think I was too quiet, and I didn't over compensate and make a tit of myself either. A glimmer of progress perhaps. The pressure is on to be well at this time of year, because if not, then the pills will be popping when the leaves get around to dropping come autumn.


The open mic was full of characters, a really enjoyable watch from the corner. The compere had the air of a man who loves his kit, was getting the sound system just so, and standing in various places around the room to test the acoustics as though he was setting up for a gig at Wembley. The Tin is about twice the size of the average front room. I admired the cool dedication, and the way in which he was supportive to the acts, some of whom were suffering badly from nerves. The atmosphere was friendly though, if a little competitive at times. A lot of the regulars knew each other, and the lively groups spilled out onto the road outside. The music was, as you would expect, a mixed bag. some of it a bit too much on the side of jazzy easy listening for my liking. Nick and I joked that they needed the jazz host from the Fast Show to complete the picture 'Nice'.


There was a young teenage boy who did some spoken word poetry that was as good as some of the stuff I saw at Camp Bestival last year. The crowd gradually hushed to hear him and it was quite beautiful in one way, although also sad, because of the topics he chose (cystic fibrosis, war, racist policing). A variety of guitar acts came on to do a turn, and there was a range of musical ability and performance skills. It has often been mooted that everyone does Bob Dylan better that Bod Dylan these days, and I've been known to agree. That theory went up in smoke when one man attempted to sing Blowing in the Wind. I could stand that, but he then went on to trash James Taylor's Fire and Rain, which is an old favorite of mine. One act, the last one we stayed for, really was good, and I would have been happy to hear more. The price for all this entertainment £2 plus the drinks. We had change from £20.

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