Oh. (Russ L going to and fro in the Earth)

Boxing took place at Dudley Town Hall (I gather we’re supposed to refer to it as Dudley Concert Hall nowadays, but I doubt anyone will) on Thursday the 28th of June, as promoted by PJ Rowson. I only missed one fight, which isn’t too bad when you’re working late.

For a full write-up courtesy o’ Tom Podmore look here. A few assorted and non-complete vague thoughts from me: Sam Horton looks better every time I see him fight (and I’m not just saying that ‘cos he’s left comments on here before), this time using his jab effectively to outbox the very scrappy Ernie Smith; I felt sorry for Richie Collins, who had no chance at all to look good against the spoiling/grabbing/running-away tactics of Mark Phillips; Dean Harrison vs Johnny Greaves was the fight of the night, and Deano looked magnificent (some comical abusive chants towards Greaves made me laugh, too); Darren McDermott is a beast.

(Edit: Unbeknownst to me until today, Stourbridge News has some videos: there’s an interview with Macca and clips of his fight here, and an interview and some clips of Sam here, amongst other things).

Here comes the customary moan. All those that try to come up with reasons for boxing’s (exaggerated, but existent nonetheless) decline in fortunes might do well to consider how much of a pain in the arse the sport makes itself for your everyday punter to get into. I’ve been faintly puzzled before about the fact that you can’t get a ticket-in-advance for these local-level shows unless you know one of the boxers to buy it off (I understand why, in that the whole economic basis for these shows is founded on local fighters selling enough tickets to pay themselves and the journeymen they’re facing, but it still seems faintly bizarre to me), but since you can generally pay on the door this isn’t a massive problem. Consider, however, the upcoming Young Mutley vs Ted Bami fight (for the European title) at The Civic Hall in Wolverhampton on the 20th of July. Despite the fact that this will almost certainly sell out, no tickets appear to have been put out for sale to the public at large. The most obvious absence would be the fact that they aren’t on the Civic’s own website. I emailed the Civic box office enquiring, and was told “We might be selling them but the promoter is still deciding whether or not to give us an allocation. As soon as we are selling for them they will be on the web site, however it is a case of the promoter deciding at the moment.” “Never mind,” I thought to myself; “I bet I’ll be able to get mine at the Dudley card.”

Well, yes, theoretically I could have done. A few times, the MC announced that they were on sale there but going quick, so get ‘em soon. I’d have been happy to do that if he’d told me who to get them from, or this person had announced himself (N.B. - leaving a comment saying “You could have got them from the promoter P.J. Rowson” won’t help me in the slightest. If you’d have pointed him out to me on the night then that might have been useful. I asked a few people, none of ‘em seemed to know).

It really feels like you have to be in the know before they’ll let you get towards being in the know. I’m aware that I’m just sounding bitter now, but it is quite irritating. I realise there’s already a solid ‘business model’ (ugh. It’s like brushing your teeth with a stick. I hate talkin’ ’bout da bidnith) in place that ensures local cards at Dudley Town Hall will always be more-or-less full, and clearly the Mutley fight at The Civic will sell out too, but I can’t help but feel that a much, much bigger venue could be packed out for a big fight like that if only a bit of effort could be made towards making it accessible for the ordinary man on road.

Ah well. Me whinging won’t change anything. Those who would grossly exaggerate reports of boxing’s demise might do well to think about the subject, though.

It was a big weekend for fightin’, but for me the UFC (Penn vs Pulver might have been one that would have greatly interested me if I’d being paying attention), that farce involving Kimbo Slice and Ray Mercer, and K1 in Holland were all overshadowed by Hatton vs Castillo. I saw it in the Sports Cafe on Broad Street (for non-locals, Broad Street is what might be considered Brum’s nightlife quarter. An unpleasant area, generally filled with people who talk in slogans and think in… well, don’t think at all). There’s only one Ricky Hatton, one Ricky Hatton, one Ricky Haaaaatton, there’s only one Ricky Haaaa-ton. Who next for him? I have a feeling it’ll be Malignaggi, although apparently the bookies favour a fight against Cotto.

In honour of this momentous achievement and because I do like a body shot KO, I link to the final round.

In the name of further body-blow KO appreciation and also because it’s quite funny, I link to Aerts vs Sapp from the K1, too. Big Bob got a quarter of a million dollars for that spectacular display, apparently.

Bohemian Jukebox is a regular night at The Bull’s Head in Moseley, but it’s a bit of a crap name. If my understanding of American history serves me correctly (and I see no reason why it wouldn’t), acting in a Bohemian sort of fashion at a time when Jukeboxes were popular would lead to McCarthy having you blacklisted and The Fonz saying “Aaaay, sit on it.” Or similar.

The first part of the name seemed apt once in the upstairs gig room at The Bulls Head (I’d never been to any part of it before), though, and in a ‘pleasant’ rather than ‘irritating’ way. I liked the vibe, and indeed the value - three quid gets you four musical acts and a chit that lets you get a shot of absinthe for a pound. You can’t say fairer than that.

Matt Geary (and his mate on drums) opened. First impressions were not at all good, but by the end of his/their set he/they had won me over. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they took up their positions, the drummer wearing his bowler hat with the grim determination only ever seen in a man grimly determined to wear a bowler hat and Matty himself sporting a scarf in spite of the not inconsiderable heat indoors. “Hmm” I thought, and this was of course unfair of me. Once they started playing, I wasn’t keen on the nasal voice he sang in, either. The songs were interesting, though (not massively unconventional or anything but with some touches here and there to keep them from being totally straightforward), the nicely varied percussion was very likeable, and they were able to work up a bit of intensity between them. On balance, thumbs up.

The chance to see Rich Batsford was probably the main reason for me attending this, so it’s a shame his set was ruined by a man who would most fairly be described as “a pillock.” The way he kept calling out encouraging and admonishing slogans to Rich (”You’re doing well;” “Slow down;” “Believe in yourself;” “Slow down;” “Ignore the audience, imagine you’re in your bedroom;” “Slow down” etc etc etc) was amusing at first and then wearying, but worse was his attempt to join in playing the piano and worse still (from my point of view) his insistence on trying to talk to me while I was listening to Mr Batsford (and in spite of the escalation of my responses from politely telling him I was trying to pay attention to the music, to bluntly telling him I didn’t give a toss about his babbling, to struggling not to lose my temper). Git.

Rich’s set seemed good enough in spite of this (very pretty piano melodies, warm and likeable songs) but I was getting a bit too tense and wound up to enjoy it. I’m sure I’ll see him another time, and hopefully he’ll be unaccompanied.

Bust My Flex came next. I would be making remarks about how stunning it was that he could play his guitar with such dexterity while being so clearly off his face (his pupils looked so wide he could probably see into the future), but his mate who asked me if I’d enjoyed it afterwards informed me that apparently he was completely sober. Blimey. Great stuff, anyway - very intricate and clever guitar pluckin’ and strummin’, but all seemingly with actual purpose as far as the songs go. Wiser minds than my own have suggested Jimmy Page circa ‘Kashmir’ as an influence. I liked the really fast one about mushrooms.

I’d wanted to see headliners Reverie Strings ever since their existence was brought to my attention by a couple of good notices from Baron. They didn’t disappoint me. Including – as they do – a three-piece string section, they create a sound so much more rich and full than many bands you can find at gigs of this scale. The singer sounds a lot like that bloke with the lovely throaty voice from Gomez, and the songs (they don’t sound like anything new but no obvious comparisons spring to mind, which is probably a good thing) were beguiling.

One plonker aside, I really enjoyed this gig. Super-duper stuff.

The second AMMA card took place in The Holte Suite of the Villa Ground on Sunday the 17th of June, and it wasn’t half good.

I enjoyed the first one no end, and this surpassed it if anything. This particular version of amateur MMA (for there are many) takes standard USAC style rules and runs fights over 2×5 minute rounds and then further prohibits strikes to the head on the ground, elbows to the head while standing, heel hooks, and spine-based submissions. Never mind the precise rules, though - it’s a well-run show with good match-ups and a great atmosphere.

The results are here (all under said amateur rules apart from the main event of Vaughn Harvey vs Antonio Jazbutis, which was under full pro rules). As with last time highlights are hard to pick, although the clash between Dan Korbely and Kurt Taylor was probably my fight of the night. I’ve written about Danny K before (this is the fourth time I’ve seen him fight now) and in my (insignificant, ain’t worth nowt) opinion I really think he has the potential to go far. In this case he was giving up a significant height advantage, but after some initial reverses held his own on his feet until an unfortunate stoppage was forced when Kurt dislocated his thumb in the second round. Not the ideal ending, but a great fight. I’d certainly like to see a rematch someday.

Chris Gary vs Aaron Brown and Nick Atwal vs David Drake provided a couple of spectacular knockouts, Farrid Mohammed was great to watch due to the sheer intensity he brought to the ring, and Vaughn Harvey brought his winning streak up to six fights and proved he really should be on the bigger shows.

Great stuff from start to finish.

(Edit: There are links to some photos here).

I found this one via Jez. Andrew Dubber is a lecturer at the University Of Central England, and by most accounts a respected figure amongst those that (for some reason) find themselves interested in the escapades of The Music Business. Paul Birch is involved with Revolver records (presumably the one that re-released the fantastic Intention album and not the one associated with Bruce Springsteen. I could be wrong, though) and with various official ‘representatives of The Music Business’ type bodies (IFPI, BPI, KFC etc).

The former, it seems, once linked to an article which detailed the attempt of an individual to counter-sue The Music Business (personified by the RIAA), and which had a somewhat scathing tone regarding The Music Business’ response to downloading. The latter, it seems, felt the need to email the former with A) a request to remove said link; and B) a barely veiled threat to carry tales to his employer about a supposed lack of impartiality. It’s worth noting that Mr Dubber’s blog doesn’t appear to be a part of or funded by the UCE in any way at all.
It’s stunning, it really is. The precise point of difference is by-the-by, it’s the tactics employed that amaze me (and not in a good way). These people wonder why the tide of public has turned against them on one hand, while cack-handedly attempting to suppress anything that could even vaguely be qualified as dissent (I’m not convinced ‘linking to a critical report’ could even vaguely be qualified as dissent, but we’ll proceed for the sake of argument) with the other. There’s no attempt to dispute or debate any fact or argument laid out in said article. It’s merely a case of “Shut up or I’m telling.”

If your man Birch intends to act in such a childish manner then it seems quite fun to follow suit, but that’s far from the only reason for me to do this: Here’s a link to said article. It may seem innocuous enough (it certainly did to me), but I certainly don’t think it should be buried just because certain folk have got the hump and decided to attempt intimidation. I hope many others choose to link to it too.

(Edit: According to P’Ashton, The Stone Roses once threw a bucket of paint over Birch-y Boy for releasing a single of theirs without permission. You couldn’t make it up).

It’s more or less that inevitable that I’m going to be a significant length of time behind everyone else, so you probably won’t be surprised to learn that only now am I going to be speaking on the subject of the Olympic logo.

Yup, it’s crap, but enough people have already said that. I didn’t see the ‘2012’ in it at all until someone pointed it out (I’ve never been able to figure out magic eye pictures, either. Playing ‘say what you think the splobbly images on the safety curtain are’ at The Hippodrome the other night was quite fun, though). Plenty of words have been said and re-said about its merits or lack thereof, but the thing that I find interesting is that it’s supposed to be influenced by street art. This claim has gone more or less unchallenged. It has been opposed – “Should we really be glorifying graffiti?” – by exactly the sort of people you’d expect to say that sort of thing, but the premise itself has not been challenged.

This is what baffles me the most. Ye Gods, how in the world does that look like ‘street art’? It resembles no tag I’ve ever seen. The closest thing I could probably say is that it perhaps looks like a graffiti tag as drawn by someone who’s never seen one before and only had one described to him. I am amazed that I haven’t heard more people point this out.

Two restaurant trips took place recently, although both are establishments I’ve written about before. Earlier this week I went to the Chiquito in Bentley (between Walsall and Wolves). It was as good as usual and I have nothing to say that I haven’t said before. Definitely my favourite chain restaurant, though. We discovered that they have a magician there on Sunday afternoons. That sounds like fun to me.

Last night a trip was made to Café Soya for Father’s Day purposes (yes, I know Father’s Day is today). This is another one I’ve written about many times before. The food is always fantastic. It’s always seemed quite echo-y and loud in there, though, and that was really apparent this time. Others in our party complained about the waiters randomly refilling some of our glasses but not others’, but since I got the better of it I don’t mind so much.

On Friday night I went to The Hippodrome to see a bit of the Birmingham Royal Ballet, dahling. I’ve never really been that much of one for interpretive dance and I still wouldn’t pretend to ‘get’ it, but I’ve enjoyed the various bits and bobs I’ve seen over the last couple of years. This was the BRB’s ‘Summer 2007 Mixed Bill’ and tickets were my birthday present for Nyki.

Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons was first, given a sporting theme. I can’t say I was enthralled by this, although the little visual joke referring to that famous picture of the tennis player scratching her arse made me chuckle. The Nine Sinatra Songs (a few of which I’d already seen at last year’s Artsfest) were a lot more fun, though, veering between playful and intense like the great man himself. The violent “That’s Life” was great, as was the (deliberately) nervous and awkward “Something Stupid.” Having all of the couples on stage at once to provide a sort of sensory overload during the big orchestral swell at the end of the closing “My Way” was a great touch, too. Pineapple Poll finished things off, a nautical tale of a flower-seller girl falling in love with the captain of a ship and impersonating a sailor to get nearer to him, all the while pursued by the lovelorn potman from the local pub. Very silly but absolutely loads of fun. Happy ending, too.

So yes, I still don’t understand dance (as well you can tell from my attempts to write about it), but I had lots of fun.

I don’t care what your IQ is. If you think intelligence can be quantified then I question how much of it you have.

Hmmm. Scroll to the bottom here (Edit: It’s at the top now. And ‘on order from suppliers.’ Gits). Apparently this has been out for a week, and I didn’t realise. There was a time when this would definitely not have escaped me.

I’m slightly scared, though. I’m not sure what I’m going to think of it.

(I’d missed the one at the top here, too).

This may well be the weekend where that bloke I work with who thinks Trivium are “the most heavy, hardcore metal band coming out of America” (and, indeed, thousands like him) head off to Donnington to use the Download festival as an excuse to act like savages, but alternatives abound. Birmingham seems to have gone a bit mad with ‘events labelled as festivals’ this year. Between the already-passed Fierce and The Main Event, and the soon-to-come Moseley Festival, Gigbeth, Birmingham Book Festival, Artsfest, Moseley Folk Festival and loads of others I’m forgetting, there’s plenty of entertainment on offer for those of us who like having a wash and hence aren’t keen on the camping-based festivals. A wise man once relayed a trope about the sort of toilets you get there, full of used paper with a turd proudly perched atop like an ark on a Turkish mountain. I shudder, and try to avoid flashbacks to the Leeds festival I went to once.

The best of them all is only slightly more than a month away. Suspersonic, I tells ya, is the greatest annual event on the musical calendar and no fooling. It’s unlikely that anyone reading this isn’t fully aware of the event anyway (and if you aren’t – Hi there! You’re in for a treat!), but I wanted to make it clear that I do genuinely and literally think that. Capsule, Birmingham’s best promoters of Stuff That’s Ever So Slightly Different get a whole two days to play with. This is not an event where you’ll see yet another basic melodic rock group. This is where the interesting bands play. It’s been going since 2003, and while I wasn’t there right from the beginning (I went to the Saturday in 2005, then both the Friday and Saturday in 2006) I am now most definitely hooked.

So, what have we got this year? Well, things begin on Friday the 13th (ooh…) at the New Art Gallery in Walsall, for Metal – A Symposium. Apparently you need to register your name as places are limited. Initially this sounded like the greatest thing evaaar to me, but I’m not quite so sure on reflection. There is a slight scheduling clash (this goes on till 9pm, assuming it finishes on time. The main Supersonic starts at 9pm in Digbeth. If you’re on the bus then the 51 is at twenty past nine, and will take about forty minutes – assuming the traffic wants to play nice - followed by about five minutes or so to walk over to The Custard Factory. If you’re a motorist, you can sort yourself out. I know nothing of your world other than that you all tend to moan a lot), and there’s also the fact that both Ozomatli are playing at the Academy 2 and The Down And Outs at The Market Tavern. I’m going to have to defer my decision on this until such a time when (if?) a list of talking points is made public. I can already imagine precisely what the contribution of one of our fair pundits will amount to.

The meat of the festival begins over at The Custard Factory. Friday night’s line-up typically has a slightly clubbier vibe than the Saturday, albeit not the sort of club you see on Broad Street. I particularly recommend the yet-another-reformation of yam-yam attack-metallers Deadsunrising (mania, distilled and concentrated. They really do make for something to witness), the sublime cello creations of Bela Emerson (I fell in love with her in February), and PCM’s Drum & PushTheSkinBackOnTheSidesOfYourFace.

Saturday is the big alldayer bit with the outside stage and such. Mogwai are the headliners and by far the ‘biggest’ band Supersonic has thus far had, but everyone knows them so I won’t go on. I’ve spoken at length about the Modified Toy Orchestra before (this waffling is as good as any, I suppose), and I think Tunng are one of the best bands in the country, what with their mix of folk and weirdness and wide-eyed-wonder. I’ve also enjoyed Bee Stung Lips and Voice Of The Seven Woods in the past, but most of the fun in Supersonic comes from discovering new stuff. Chrome Hoof appear likely to be fantastic, but who knows what other delights we’ll all come across?

In sum: If you claim to be interested in music and are capable of getting to Supersonic, I question your wisdom (and call you insulting names) if you do not do so.