The Shins

When: Thursday 22^nd March

Where: HMV Forum, Kentish Town

Why: Why would you NOT?

I’m writing this to you sitting in a kitchen that smells of burnt hot cross buns, for that is what I have just done. I’ve managed to scrape off the worst of the charcoaly bits though. Wow, this is real life gritty stuff I’m broadcasting to you all…

I’m here to tell you about the Shins, who I saw last week at the HMV forum in Kentish Town. It’s a really cool venue, with very enthusiastic security guards, who thankfully didn’t pat me down AND let me sneak in my sausage roll as long as I promised not to eat it (a promise I regret to say I did not keep). I had never heard of it as a gig venue, but I think its general music scene tends to err on the grungy side, which would explain me never having been there (and the tight security…). It was built in 1934 as an art deco cinema and later adapted to be a music venue, and its tremendously camp interior, mainly involving gilt gods and warriors, was beautifully preserved and extremely entertaining.

We were sat on the benches up on the balcony, and had an excellent view of what has to be the most disturbing support act I’ve ever had to witness. We were treated to a band who, after some extensive googling thanks to them failing to introduce themselves or even speak more than ten words the entire time, I now know are called Clinic. The phrase I typed into that well-known search engine was ‘band who wear surgical masks’, for that is what they did for the whole of their act. At least the masks went with their matching scrubs. I don’t know if any of the songs had a medical theme; it was difficult to hear the lyrics over the screeching guitars, not to mention the full-volume chatting that was going on throughout the entire crowd who were (entirely reasonably) not at all interested in the terrible sounds that were being hurled at them from the stage. Seriously not good. They were jarringly mis-matched to the jingly jangly indie-rock of the Shins; a contrast second only to the time I witnessed an intense electro duo called Specificus support at a Darren Hayes concert. As they left the stage to a smattering of applause, I found myself thinking that at least they’ve found each other…

But begone, negativity! All fear and patronising thoughts flew from my mind as my flatmate and I moved on to another drink and the wonder that is the Shins bounced onstage. I have loved the Shins since a friend introduced me to ‘New Slang’ at uni, and since then they have been a staple of my musical world. ‘Chutes too narrow’ is one of my top albums of all time, and their brand new offering ‘Port of Morrow’ isn’t bad either. I’m also a fan of James Mercer’s breakaway band ‘Broken Bells’, and there is a definite element of their sound in the new Shins album. The gig was just pure good quality stuff. They aren’t the most charismatic of performers, and not especially chatty (although we did get an interesting anecdote about Mercer’s time at an English boarding school in his youth), but their music speaks for them. Their energy and precision was superb, and Mercer’s vocals were just immense. The man just has the coolest voice ever. I am so thrilled to have seen them, as I thought they had properly gone their own ways for good (which to be fair they kind of have, but James Mercer is keeping the name going at least, and it’s him you want to see, if we’re honest…).

If you want to learn a bit more about the Shins, there’s a 360 documentary on them currently on 4oD (only until Saturday) which I recommend, and also make sure you have a listen to ANY of their stuff. They are wonderful.

One final piece of good news: my mate has started up a new blog about theatre and cakes (two of my favourite things), which you will find here, and @cakespeareuk on Twitter. She is very funny and has the best taste in cakes of anyone I know, so I highly recommend you have a look.

Over and out.

Brixpig x

Cats and Criminals

Time for another ‘weird album of the week’!

Cats and Criminals – Black Dress (EP)

OK so basically I’m going to go against what I said last week, because I did stumble across this band while they were busking on the Southbank last August. But shut up. They’re called Cats and Criminals and I mainly like them because their music involves brass instruments. Sax + trumpet is an unstoppable combination. They were full of bounce and personality when we spotted them playing by the river, and there were about five tiny children dancing in front of them, which is always a winner for the crowds. I found a video on YouTube of the day we actually saw them, which is oddly pleasing and which you can view below. They’re a bit creative, a bit sparky and wear nice jumpers, which I think are three very good reasons for giving them a listen. They have two EPs which are on Spotify and you can find their stuff on iTunes too if you have a mind. 

Brixpig x

Weekend

I’ve just been to the gym, had an intense session on the rowing machine (well, intense for me) and felt marvellous about myself. Then came home and had a cup of tea and a Moomin cookie and felt even better. Life is all about balance, people.

Speaking of delicious things, my weekend got off to an excellent start thanks to a San Marino croissant and hot chocolate with my pals on Saturday morning. It’s just on the corner by Brixton train station and is the best hot chocolate in the area, hands down. The staff are great and so funny, and it’s mega good value (£2.90 for a massive hot choc and a massive croissant). Plus they now do a loyalty card which I am powering my way through.

The aforementioned Moomin cookies were made this weekend in honour of my mate Charlotte (@thepigeonloft) who came over for a Nurse Jackie series 3 marathon during the day. I’m a huge fan of Nurse Jackie thanks to Charles and our friend Laurie who both basically bullied me into watching it, and I’m glad they did. It’s dark and funny and cool, and returns to (American) TV next week for series 4… Hurry up and get over here please! It also stars the fabulous Eve Best, who basically made up our entire weekend.

On Saturday evening we saw her in the opening night of the Duchess of Malfi at the Old Vic, and sat in the very front row. It was amazing, we had under-25 tickets for £12 and were so lucky to be there. Our view was immense and it was so nice to actually be able to see the actor’s expressions for once (I appreciate a cheap upper circle seat as much as anyone, but after my row W seat at Wicked, it was nice to feel I might actually recognise the actors if I met them in the street…). Charles also got spat on a bit though, so swings and roundabouts. We also spotted Kevin Spacey, the sort of executive producer of the whole thing, in the Pit Bar (I was enjoying a Cointreau and lemonade, my new favourite drink. So retro) and he was surprisingly petite with good glasses. The play itself was very atmospheric, really well acted, and I was totally engrossed by the whole thing despite Webster’s slightly arcane language and never having read it. Eve Best gave a stunning performance as the Duchess and managed to bring the touch of lightness and humour that she always brings, and which makes her roles so much more accessible and just enjoyable. We did have a slightly too close-up view of all the death scenes (sorry to ruin it for anyone but they play is like, a few hundred years old). Essentially everyone dies at the end, and the scene where the Duchess is strangled to death was pretty disturbing and well done, but did make me chuckle a bit. I just couldn’t help it.

Thanks to Charles’s know-how, we also hit a free screening of Hedda Gabler at the V&A on Sunday, as part of their series of National Video Archive performances which are running until the end of April. This was the performance from 2005 at the Almeida theatre, also starring Eve Best and a certain Benedict Cumberbatch (yes, of looking like otters fame). So nice to sit in a beautiful lecture theatre on a surprisingly comfy bench and be treated to such an excellent performance, which I had regretted not being able to see in the theatre. It was a grippingly simple play and I’m going to have to read it now, to try and understand a bit more about the characters – particularly Hedda, who is essentially a bit of a mental. (You can see I totally should have done English at uni…) Anyway, I’m very grateful to the V&A for putting on such a brilliant event and for being so accommodating.

Taken half way through eating... 
couldn't hold myself in.

Sunday also involved a lot of gelato – firstly at an old favourite, Gelupo in Soho, who are giving away free scoops of their wonderful gelato and sorbet if you write your favourite flavour on their Facebook wall. So completely worth it; I already loved them but now my admiration knows no bounds. I had chocolate and blood orange sorbets, an excellent combination. Charles had rhubarb crumble and ‘Buddha’s hand’, which was a sort of green tea flavour. Seriously good things. We also made our way to Gino Gelato near Charing Cross that afternoon, to sample their new Japanese inspired flavours, and I have to say the red miso caramel was seriously good.

Buy this card.

Generally delicious times this weekend, and very lovely to see Charles (who may be starting a new blog herself soon, and rest assured I’ll be recommending it to you if she does). She also has some crocheted friends of hers currently starring on an M&S Easter card (see photo for proof), so if you’re in need of something cute to send this Easter, that’s my recommendation. I bought some myself today and had a little boast to the lady at the till. So proud.

Anyway, that’s more than enough from me. See you on Friday for another weird album and a review of Thursday’s SHINS concert!! Whee.

Brixpig x

W(A)O(T)W

Today I plan to introduce you to a new segment of the blog called ‘Weird album of the week’ (catchy, no?). Basically I’d like to dedicate some space to certain music that might be overlooked because it’s a bit obscure and that for some reason I think you should listen to. A lot of my writing usually ends up taking the form of entirely biased apologetics (just see my undergrad dissertation on C S Lewis for proof) or stems from a strong sense of outraged loyalty, so be prepared for some gratuitous defence of my taste in music. I refuse to call anything ‘bad’ taste or ‘guilty pleasures’, because I’m unashamed and don’t think anyone should be embarrassed about what they find appealing. Even if it is the soundtrack to Yentl (you’ll be hearing all about that in the coming weeks, don’t worry). But just so you don’t get the wrong idea – this segment isn’t going to be cool. It won’t only be about new upcoming local bands or some hip new group I discovered in a mystery underground bar. I’m not saying it will never be about those things, but it’s unlikely. It’s essentially going to be bits of my iTunes thrust at you in an enthusiastic but poorly-written burst of love. Ok? Here we go then with our first ever ‘Weird album of the week’:

‘Follow on’ by the Morris Quinlan Experience

This album is one of my greatest aural pleasures, but I never would have discovered it if it hadn’t been for a classics summer school I went to in 2003. There we re-met a certain James McKay who we had known as a Latin teacher at our high school, but who had left and in the meantime become a super cool poet. We began to follow his poetic doings and in 2006 the Morris Quinlan Experience released their second album, Follow On, featuring James’s poems and voice as the songs. It’s like a spoken word instrumental extravaganza, and my small group of classicist pals became big fans. Such was our devotion to the album that at one subsequent summer school (we went to five in a row; again, unashamed) when James was unable to attend and thus couldn’t do his traditional poetry reading at the final night’s entertainment, we played his album over the hall’s sound system just so that he wasn’t forgotten. I don’t know if he knows that, but there you go. I still listen to it often and I’m extremely glad I got to experience an album that I almost certainly would never have found on my own. Personal favourite tracks include ‘A New Rain’ (see video), and ‘Ship of Fools 2008’, but it’s all immense. It's unusual. But pleasing, especially the more you listen to it. You can hear some on their MySpace page or have a buy of their album if you’re in a spontaneous musical mood.

Stay cool and have a good weekend. I've just found out about Japan Gelato Day at Gino Gelato, so that's Sunday sorted!

Brixpig x

Strid me up, Judy

Evening all, how you doing? Marvellously I hope.

DANGER: Strid

I’ve been having a rare old time. Not only did I get to see the stupendous Florence + the Machine at Alexandra Palace (as the previous post demonstrates in all its tongue-tied majesty), and had a mini adventure to Bradford, where I experienced the watery danger of the Strid near Bolton Abbey (Google it). It’s a secluded woody spot where the river narrows to about 6 feet, which causes a great deal of bouncing currents and tiny whirlpools. It looks beautiful and reasonably impressive, but as numerous signs and parental warnings pointed out, also “claims lives” as people try to jump over the gap. I have no idea why anyone would even consider attempting to do that, but then again I have no real taste for adrenaline. I don’t even like Lucozade. We all managed to survive though, and the only losses were the button off a friend’s coat and my dignity after I sat on a damp rock for too long. The rest of the trip was a lot less risky and involved key lime pie, a game of ‘Shag, Marry, Cruise’ (drunkenly renamed as ‘Mag, Sharry, Cruise’), and a delightful veggie curry at the Prashad restaurant – a little local recommendation for you there. Go in when you’re next in Bradford (which I’m sure will be soon), or if you’re a massive fan of Gordon Ramsey...

Pretty excited about upcoming events, and still to come in March is:

-    The Duchess of Malfi at the Old Vic (and probably along with a review you’ll be getting a rave about season 3 of ‘Nurse Jackie’ – also starring Eve Best – which I’ll be doing a marathon of on Saturday)

-     The Shins at the HMV Forum. Possibly the most eagerly looked-forward to gig of my life, ever. I can barely contain myself

-     Sarah Millican at the Hammersmith Apollo

-     Crafty Fox market at the Dogstar.

As well as this, I’m planning some posts that are actually about Brixton, and potench some book/film reviews, AND a new weekly music spot which I’ll be introducing tomorrow.

Boom.

Brixpig x

Florence + the Machine

When: Thursday 8th March

Where: Alexandra Palace

Go with the Flo.

Why: Because Florence is my homegirl

Alexandra Palace is up a massive hill. Not many bands could induce me to drag myself up that incline of a Thursday night, when I could be sat in my kitchen wearing my bunny slippers, but for Florence I’ll do anything. I’d seen her at the Isle of Wight festival in June 2010 where she secured a permanent place in my heart and established herself securely as a figure of musical worship. She (and her brilliant band) are one of those acts who you would go to see again and again and seriously never get sick of it. Loved the gospel choir and the strings section, the latter of which gave the most beautiful intro to ‘You’ve got the love’ ever. I also very much approved of her stage outfit – I’ve been saying for years that we should bring back full on long capes. Nice one Flo.

Support from The Horrors, who I have heard good things about but whom we entirely missed out of sheer excitement and having a small explore of Al Pal and its bar facilities. Sorry guys.

There really isn’t much more to say because she speaks for herself really. Go and buy ‘Ceremonials’ now if for some ridiculous reason you’ve not heard it yet.  

Brixpig x

Marina and the Diamonds

When: Saturday 25^th February

Where: St George’s Church, Brighton

Why: A birthday present for my flatmate.

A concert in a church? Why the hell not? This was part of a sort of mini pre-tour before Marina’s proper UK tour in May, and was a fairly intimate gig of around 200 people, crammed into a (very cool and modern thinking) church in Brighton’s Kemp Town. Which is a very residential area and not at all where you’d expect all this musical jollity to go down, but St George’s is a recognised location for gigs, and was very professionally run may I just say. Toilets were accessed in the crypt café, past the nursery room and spare pushchairs, and there was a little bottle bar at the back of the church, like the coolest Sunday school imaginable.

I can’t believe I’ve just started a review of such a brilliant gig by giving you the exact location of the toilets. But these things are important to me and to my bladder, so I obviously felt the need to share. ANYWAY. Marina was excellent and looked super lovely with her new blonde hairdo. She came across as genuinely friendly, flirty, very open and normal (contrary to what I’d expected, having been influenced by a Popjustice interview about her upcoming album which portrayed her as a bit of a mental). And really really good at singing live. Which is always nice to find out. There were a lot of new songs which were all encouragingly catchy and more mature and slick than the first album. I’m very glad we’re finally getting the new album soon, even if it is the end of April. It has been a long time coming but sure it’ll be worth it.

The audience was also seriously eclectic – much more so than I thought. I’d anticipated being surrounded by mouthy teenagers, and they were there in their numbers alright, but there were a LOT of middle-aged couples singing along to all the words from the balcony, and many, many, solo gay boys. I think they all should have teamed up and made friends. By the end of the gig, having overcome the initial politeness and best-behaviour feeling of being in a church, the crowds had surged out of their chairs (pews…) and gathered at the front and in the aisles for some serious jumping and giggling.

The support act was a chap called Eugene McGuinness and his band, who were a bit like Oasis, but in the 50s. Not bad sort of tuneful rocky music, a guitarist with excellent hair and teddy boy outfits (including a very stylish gold shirt from Eugene). Recommended for a wee listen if you fancy something new and inoffensive.

Lush. 

Brixpig x

Lightning Seeds (+ James Walsh)

When: Saturday 18^th February 2012

Where: O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire

Why: I’m a fan, but not enough of a fan to pay for tickets. So I won some on their Facebook page.

The last time I saw the Lightning Seeds’ lead singer Ian Broudie on a stage was at the Isle of Wight festival in 2010. Or rather, he was storming off the stage after a failed attempt to get the crowd to sing ‘Three Lions’ live on radio and a dodgy guitar/microphone situation which revealed that he was miming. Brilliant. The mild derision and absolute lack of interest from the thousands-strong crowd was genuinely entertaining and a little bit unexpected (everyone LOVES ‘Three Lions’ usually – maybe if Baddiel and Skinner had appeared things might have been different).

But he seems to have got over himself a bit and he and the band have put together a brilliantly nostalgic show. The Lightning Seeds are one of those bands who’ve done more songs that you recognise than you’d think – Pure, Sugar Coated Iceberg, Change, Lucky You, Life of Riley… (Spotify them if the names are doing nothing for you, and you’ll see what I mean). This is only if you were around and listening to the radio in the 90s, of course. And if you weren’t, then I don’t want to know, you tiny child.

The very fellows. 

The show was energetic and the music was really impressively good – what a tuneful bunch they are. I defy anyone to listen to ‘Life of Riley’ and not get their groove on. I loved the sight of lone middle-aged men dancing along the balcony, groups of lairy lads clearly preparing themselves for ‘Three Lions’, and even a mum and young daughter not far from us. Passing the love down the generations. I think, apart from the small girl, my mate and I were the youngest people there by a fair way, but I can only see that as a good thing. And you'll be relieved to know that 'Three Lions' was their final encore song. Phew.

One final good point was that James Walsh off of Starsailor turned out to be the supporting act. As soon as he opened his mouth I knew his voice, and a swift google helped me place him. Seriously thrilling, I had a big Starsailor phase a few years ago (not big enough to know any of the band’s names, yes I know), and it was awesome to see their lead singer live. Walsh does genuinely great things with a guitar and has a delicious voice. Starsailor wouldn’t have been my first guess for someone to support the Britpoppy Lightning Seeds, but my ears were happy so I was happy.

Wicked man.

Brixpig x

Royal Manuscripts: The Genius of Illumination

When: Saturday 18^th February 2012

Where: British Library

Why: I love a good illumination.

  

This might not sound like the most thrilling of ways to spend an afternoon (and it did take almost a whole afternoon, thanks to the ‘horseshoe of doom’ – more on that later), but there are some cool little things in the manuscripts that our monarchs have passed on to us over the centuries. Why would you want to paint a half-man half-eagle on a Biblical passage? Who can say. But I digress. We were looking at manuscripts once owned by English monarchs from between the 8^th and 16^th centuries, beautifully decorated and illustrated, and taken mainly from the Old Royal library that George II gave to the nation in 1757 (how kind). There were over 150 of the things, and let me tell you, it is possible to be manuscripted out. I had illumination fatigue by the end of the three hours it took to get round that room. We spent a good forty minutes trying to get round the aforementioned ‘horseshoe of doom’, which comprised of about ten of the most exciting manuscripts. They were indeed beautiful and golden and shiny and colourful and a gorgeous insight into the artistry of the Middle Ages etc, but when you’re stuck behind a slow-moving queue of elderly ladies with magnifying glasses, you start to question your existence somewhat.

Anyhow, one interesting bit was the illustration of the baby Caesar being born (famously by caesarian), and having him pointed out to us by yes, you’ve guessed it, a lady with a magnifying glass. I also really loved a map drawn over about eight pages of a pilgrim’s journey from England to the Holy Land, with brilliantly out of scale drawings of each important stop, and culminating in a map of Britain with London smack bang in the middle (where I actually used to think it was – respect, ancient map drawer). 

We learned about psalters and ladies’ prayer books, as well as the massively elaborate gospel books. The manuscripts not only displayed the wealth of the monarch and the artistic prowess of his country, but aided them in understanding what it meant to be royal. Apparently they often contained genealogical texts, the coronation books set out the formal ceremonies of monarchy, and of course the biblical content also helped demonstrate their divine right to rule and underpinned their authority. The ‘mirrors for princes’ were instructions for appropriate royal behaviour and also sometimes contained information on the lives of influential saints, manuals for warfare, bestiaries and of course the apocalypses, to give moral direction to their current actions in preparation for the end of time. Which I thought was nice.

I know so little about the kings and queens of the past, so this was a genuinely diverting insight into the monarchy’s scholarly interests over the centuries. I also didn’t realise how many of the monarchs were French, and there were lots of olde Frenche texts which I’m sure would have been even more thrilling for a scholar of such things. I did test myself on some of the Latin ones though and didn’t do too badly, which pleased me (for those of you who don’t know me, I, Brixpig, am a shallow Classicist, which means that I did a lot of Latin and Greek at school and uni, but can’t remember quite a lot of it, even now).

Some advice: if you go, don’t use up all your energy at the beginning – we looked too long and too intensely at the early stuff, and so had no energy left at the end to get involved with the old sheet music, which looked quite cool. Also, by then they wanted to close and were shunting us urgently into the gift shop and out the door. Recommended if you need somewhere to take your nan, or if you’ve got a new magnifying glass you’re desperate to try out. Or if you’re just a bit of a nerd, like me.

Brixpig x

David Shrigley: Brain Activity

When: Friday 17^th February 2012

Where: Hayward Gallery, Southbank Centre

Why: The poster lured me in.

  

So, like, you know Spike Milligan? ‘I told you I was ill’ written on his gravestone Spike Milligan? Yeah? Well imagine a room full of stuff like that, and you’ve got David Shrigley’s latest exhibition. That’s not a diss, by the way, but a compliment. I’m a big Milligan fan, and now a big Shrigley fan as well. How nice for everyone involved.

Shrigley has said about this exhibition that ‘the responses I would like are laughter, intrigued confusion and disquiet.’ Definitely got the disquiet part right, thanks to the big fishbowl full of five years’ worth of toenail clippings. Apparently this came about thanks to a thought about how much of ourselves is cut off over our lives, which is pretty representative of the whole show – little bits of creativeness chopped off and displayed at random in a big white space. The laughter is taken care of in pretty much every corner of every room, and particularly for me in front of a bell with a plaque beside it which read ‘Not to be rung again until Jesus returns’, which for reasons I can’t completely fathom reduced me to long-lasting chuckles. The intrigued confusion appeared before me in the faces of my fellow adventurers as I shuffled on hands and knees through a tiny door in the wall, away from a kingdom of creepy crawlies (I just followed a kid through the hole, it seemed like the best option to me).

According to the little guidebook, Shrigley sees ‘hugely important things as incredibly trivial and unimportant things as having massive significance’, which explains the row of sizeable ceramic eggs along a dividing wall, and a shopping list engraved on a gravestone. Another favourite was the big cup of tea, large enough to fit a basketball in but which actually contained real (and very cold) tea. I stuck my finger in to test it so I know. I push boundaries.

My mate very much enjoyed the taxidermy projects dotted around the place, including the famous ‘I’m dead’ dog, a headless ostrich (ooh, thought-provoking), and a similarly headless squirrel holding his own head instead of a nut in his tiny paws. You do end up asking what is it, why has he done that, what does that mean, as you wonder round.

The illustrations and paintings were my highlights, and seem like an insight into what a bored man left alone in a school art department might come out with. Which is brilliant. It’s stream of consciousness art, which makes for an interesting trip around the gallery. If you could step into the mind of a bit of a weird dude and have a wander round, this is what it would be like. He displays statements (‘It’s ok to run away from your problems’), innuendo (‘Tits’), and some one-liners that my uncle would love. It’s temporary, cheeky, quirky and making fun. It was a bit of an adventure and I had a cracking time. The exhibition is on until May, so I suggest you go and have a look at it - immediately if possible.

Brixpig x

Matilda the Musical

When: Wednesday 8^th February 2012

Where: Cambridge Theatre

Why: A belated birthday present from my flatmate.

Matilda the Musical was so good it made me want to cry. Just in general, because I was so happy to be seeing it with my eyes. Even if I had hated my flatmate before (which I didn’t, because she’s my best friend, but let’s imagine), I would have loved her eternally just for providing me with the golden ticket to access the wonder that was Matilda the Musical. In a similar vein, I had formerly declined to be any kind of fan of Tim Minchin, and I’m still not a lover of his own shows, but I will forgive him anything for the songs he created for Matilda. Even just for the swing song, actually (‘When I grow up’).

The reason the show was able to be beautiful and touching without overdoing the saccharine factor was that it kept Roald Dahl’s dark and twisty spirit in there too. The casual tormenting of Matilda by her rotten parents was far more unpleasant than the film version, and truer to the book. I wasn’t sure about the necessity of introducing Mrs Wormwood’s flamenco dance partner to the story, as he doesn’t really add anything at all, other than comically bendy legs. Another tangent away from the book involved Matilda narrating the dramatic story of two lovers – an escapologist and an acrobat – to Mrs Phelps, the enraptured librarian. Fairly early on the parallels between this story and the Miss Honey/Trunchbull saga became clear, and it all fits together when Matilda visits Miss Honey’s little house and realises she has been telling her story all along.

Although at first this seemed like a pretty elaborate way of revealing the teacher’s difficult situation and family background, I think ultimately it did serve to make a wider point within the show itself – that of the importance and power of stories in any little life. Because she somehow knows this story, Matilda’s greatest brainy power comes across as an insight and empathy on a more than adult level (which she clearly didn’t learn from her parents), rather than the supernatural eye power so over-used in the film version. This power was downplayed on the stage, serving only to find a way to help Miss Honey escape the Trunchbull in the final classroom scenes, and then never really coming up again. Matilda’s wisdom and steadfast self-confidence is the central anchor of the plot throughout the musical and, as we see in the lyrics of ‘Naughty’, provides an important and engaging message to everyone in the audience, not just to children:

The fabulous stage.

Just because you find that life’s not fair it

doesn’t mean that you just have to grin and bear it

if you always take it on the chin and wear it

nothing will change.

As well as the genuinely brilliant performances from all the kids, and Matilda in particular (we saw Eleanor Worthington Cox, one of four girls who alternate in the role), credit has to go to the fantastically creative staging to create the perfect environment for the show. School desks rose from the floor and letter blocks were used in most scenes (most effectively in the ‘School Song’ where each letter of the alphabet was added to the gates in time with the song, total genius), and Matilda’s bedroom with a small shelf for her to perch on was just right. I also loved the blocks of letters scattered all around the stage front, prompting you to search for words amongst them (I’m twenty-five and it kept me entertained for the entire interval… maybe that’s just because I’m easily pleased).

Some highlights included:

• Trunchbull’s ribbon dancing and the laser Chokey (bringing vicious mass-punishment into the twenty-first century)
• Bruce Bogtrotter’s cake triumph (I’ve got a lot of love for Bogtrotter in this performance, it’s a great role)
• Matilda embracing Miss Honey with the biggest hug in the world
• Michael Wormwood’s vital role in the song “All that I know I learned from telly”
• Matilda chatting with the Russian mafia in their native language

In the middle of writing this, I completely distracted myself by listening to the soundtrack on YouTube for about an hour and a half. The songs are all just so cool – personal favourites include ‘When I grow up’, as mentioned earlier, as well as ‘Naughty’, ‘The School Song’ and ‘Revolting Children’, but it’s all good. Have a listen, go on.

As I’m sure you’ve worked out, I cannot recommend this production highly enough. It has been selling out but my flatmate managed to get our tickets a few days before (in the front row of the upper circle, a great view) – and I’d watch it hanging by my pigtails from the ceiling if I had to.

10 out of 10. For reals.

Brixpig x

Beginning

Yo yo. Welcome to Brixpig!

The basic plan for this blog is for me to do loads of fun stuff and then write about it. This is partly to make you all jealous, and partly so I can actually remember what I’ve been up to (I have a shoddy memory - I think it might be time to start placing items on trays and trying to work out what’s been taken away… like they do at Age Concern checkups).

I’m a 25 year old girl who moved to Brixton about seven months ago and instantly loved it. I am originally from Leicester but moved to Newcastle when I was 11, and then went to university in Durham for four years. Last year I decided to move to where all the action appears to be (that’s London, in case you weren’t sure) and now here I am.

I love Brixton for its villagey feel, its friendliness and charm, its proper randomness and sometimes alarmingness, and because it’s so different to anywhere I’ve ever lived before. I tell you what, if I ever have an urgent need for a plantain or a leopard print carry-on size suitcase, I am sorted. Here is the place to be. Brixton’s pubs are the bomb, its little eateries and cafes (particularly in Brixton Village) are stupendous, and living a couple of minutes away from Brixton Academy (and consequently Nando’s) is a total dream. I’m a seriously happy pig.

So prepare for a few reviews of Brixtony places, general musings on what I get up to, reviews of events, books, choons, gigs, theatre, films, and generally anything else I form an opinion about. It’s very likely that a lot of this will be positive rumblings and gleeful appreciation of what’s going on around me, but like, what’s wrong with that?

Let’s go!

BrixPig x