R. Stevie Moore / / Live in Bournemouth ! ! !

David Shrigley represents for R. Stevie Moore

Some years back, I was briefly playing "inaudible banjo" and "keyboards played with my feet" in a band called Skitanja. At a rehearsal back in about 2006, the band's twisted mastermind, Steve Potatoes, had introduced me to the wonderful music of R. Stevie Moore. I can still vividly remember being stood by his computer, listening to I Like To Stay Home streaming through the interubes. Incredible stuff, I thought! Crucial work, really!





Fast forward to earlier this year, and I happened to find myself sharing a flat with Mr. Potatoes. So it was that I heard first-hand when the simply incredible happened - Potatoes (possibly whilst drunk) had booked R. Stevie to come and play in Bournemouth! It's little understatement to suggest that, for myself and many of my friends, this incredible booking coup represented the most exciting thing to happen in Bournemouth possibly ever! R. Stevie was touring outside the US for the first time in his forty year career, and was not only coming to the UK, but to Bournemouth!


Celebrate the news!


An overlarge supporting bill was arranged, posters and flyers were printed, and the mayor was informed.. and so it was that, on an uncharacteristically hot British summer's day, R. Stevie arrived in Bomo. (Now, don't ask complicated questions, but suffice it to say that he arrived from the continent, driven by one Steve Potatoes..)

Recently-opened superior record-purchasing emporium Rose Red hosted an afternoon acoustic session, with a relaxed R. Stevie playing a raft of lesser-heard (but genius) songs to an appreciative crowd, on the shop's wonderfully airy and light lower floor. As a fan, it was an unbelievable treat to experience R. Stevie playing so casually, in such an intimate environment. Really magical stuff.


In Rose Red Records

With hellos said to R. Stevie, and the instore cola supplies drunk dry, there was some aimless wandering in sunny Boscombe (something about a Sleeping Dog Lying test, the so-called woof response, on the counter in Richer Sounds?), before I headed to the venue for the evening show, Champions, with Martin and Ed.

Some of the area's best weirdo bands were also playing: Martin's ever-incredible Powdered Cows, plus a hastily reassembled but on-skronk Skitanja, featuring the afore-mentioned Ed, along with Martin, Potatoes and Inspector D. I. Signs. I played a Hardsparrow set too, but there you go. Nothing is perfect.


Powdered Cows



Pretty soon, it was nearing time for the R. Stevie main course. He seemed a bit distant and unsettled, compared to the earlier show. It's not hard to wonder what it must seem like to a seasoned musician like R. Stevie, to be in a foreign country and arrive in a venue like Champions, which is, quite frankly, a bit of a weird place at the best of times (part venue, part Overlook Hotel, despite great improvements and the best efforts of the owners to revamp it.) The stifling warmth of one of the hotter days of the year was probably not helping much either.


SkitanjaI Like To Stay Home (R. Stevie Moore) by Skitanja


Nonetheless, the gig was great. Following fantastic sets from Skitanja and the Powdered Cows, R. Stevie's touring backing band, Tropical Ooze, played a set which was worth the price of entry alone.

Then R. Stevie played. Despite his seemingly unsettled mood, and the oddness of seeing a legend like RSM in a local venue that I'm not hugely keen on, it was fantastic to get to jump around to the actual R. Stevie Moore, playing the actual hits, backed by a solid band, surrounded by friends. Two of these friends, Rich and Lucy, had travelled down from London for the evening, just to see R. Stevie. The band swung into the sublime Play Myself Some Music, and all was wonderful with the world. The whole day was really such a special event.


The man, the legend


The set began to draw to a close earlier than I had expected, with a bit of an awkward stand-off developing between RSM onstage, and a slightly confused audience. Eventually, temporarily placated with a bottle of wine, the set continued for a short while longer, before finally ending with his celebrated solo rendition of the Popeye theme.

After the gig, I got R. Stevie to re-sign the back of my i-Pod (he'd actually done it earlier in the day, but it had rubbed off in the sweat-pit of the gig), rechristening it an R-Pod, in acknowledgement of the huge amount of the prolific musician's material that has made it on there.


The R-pod


By and by, it would turn out that I'd lost my wallet (and train tickets) in the venue, presumably whilst pogoing to I Like To Stay Home, and so it was that I had to wake myself at 6am to return to the venue, to try to recover it before catching the train back to Scotland. Did I say train? Well, I ended up having to change to the overnight coach in London, travelling on for some ten hours to Dundee, arriving in the early hours of Monday morning having had precious little sleep - it was a somewhat hellish journey, much of which was spent with the guy next to me, Bobby from Bulgaria, either talking incessantly, or asleep, crushing me like a long-suffering wife. And then I had to go straight into work.

But, you know what? It was all worth it. So totally worth it. For the legend that is R. Stevie Moore.

Thank you R. Stevie!

And thank you, Steve Potatoes!


Poster Potato-style!


Interested parties might make first departure into the Outer Mooresphere here: THE R. STEVIE MOORE CASSETTE CLUB

And check out this essential documentary: TAPE TO DISC

R. STEVIE MOORE & TROPICAL OOZE are on tour NOW!

20 (000) Gigs Under The Sea

After four (or is it nearly five?) years of ramshackle lo-fi, folk, leftfield pop and backwards raffles, this Friday sees the final voyage for Club Anemone. I moved to Scotland last month, and will be travelling back down briefly to do 'the honours' at the last show. In the time that the night has existed, I have personally had some wonderful nights which will stay long in my memory.. and I hope that others feel the same.





I can't give one single reason why I started the night, but it was certainly not to make money, or to become anything other than a bloke that sometimes arranged for some bands to come and play. It did in part stem from a desire to fill what I perceived to be a hole in the local scene, to put on bands that I would like to see, that would often play Southampton or Brighton, but would give Bournemouth a miss, and to bill those bands alongside some of the many amazing local acts. It's been great to see so many superb left-field acts in Bournemouth.. whether it was Sam Amidon, perched on the stage-edge at the Central (he would return to support Beth Orton at the 02 this year), or Andre Herman Dune, singing sweet calypso songs in the belly of the ibar. It's also been an uphill struggle at times - and the fact is that the hole is very much still there. But people are still digging, and Bournemouth seems only to be on the rise, culturally-speaking, and in terms of the increasing amount of interesting gigs.





The night could not have survived without the existence of free-hire venues. Unfortunately, it has often only just been financially viable for me to host these gigs in Bournemouth, even with free venue hire. Often, acts have taken considerably lower fees than they are accustomed to, in order to play a new town. The painful truth is that an act of the size I would host might sell out a small venue in Brighton or London, but would find less of an immediately responsive audience in Bournemouth. So I would like to salute those local establishments that are forward-thinking enough to allow promoters to use their venues for free, in return for bar-takings, allowing promoters like myself to book more "risky" acts. Ibar has grown to be the spiritual home of the night, and, despite its arguable aesthetic failings, is the place that has done most for Club Anemone, as well as providing a home for other similarly independent promoters. Thank you Leigh and Andy!




I'd also like to tip my hat to those who have supported the night as paying customers, many right from the start, and often willing to take on trust that they would have an enjoyable night, based on previous experiences rather than any prior knowledge of the bands - I was taking a gamble with this night, that that sort of adventurous gig-going attitude might exist in the area; so thanks to those that have proven me not entirely wrong!





The Blue Boar has recently provided a change of scenery, and has also been very accommodating. I'd like to say that I miss the early days in the Central in Ashley Cross, but, in spite of all the drinkers we brought into their otherwise near-empty pub, they didn't seem to like us, for reasons unknown.. hmmm..




.. perhaps it was something to do with the over-athletic sound guy there, who, having quit the role following a barney with the venue, nonetheless arranged, at great personal financial risk, to sneak his PA back in, so as not to leave us in the lurch? Biggest thanks in the early days would without a doubt go to that living wonder of a man, Mr. Alf Lee, who also served as a ridiculously cheap (if not occasionally free!) soundman in those early days. Genuine legend!





Many other individuals have also given invaluable assistance, whether through manning the door, lending equipment, or any number of other jobs necessary to help a one-man-maniac hold a night together! Thanks for various things go especially to Lee Jones, Tony Foster at BHOne, Ed Mitchell, Marcus Edgar, Chris Catlin, Rob Langdon, Conrad Barr, Dan Barrow, and Nick Churchill, and more latterly Patrick Gough, at the Daily Echo .. and apologies to any others I have surely forgotten!




More recently, the gigs at the Blue Boar have been entirely dependent on the involvement of Mr. Michael Tanner, who has essentially put on the last couple of nights, while I have simply stood at the door and done bad Jools Holland impressions. Michael and Nick Palmer, of Directorsound, have also been responsible for bringing many of the nights most interesting visitors to my attention, and many of the gigs would simply not have happened without their invaluable input.





With Friday's gig set to be the last for the forseeable future, a bit of a party would seem to be in order. And no-one could be more perfect to help celebrate this final gig than our good friends, and most regular return visitors, Rachael Dadd, Rozi Plain, and, of course, the incredible Ichi! In the cosy nautical environs of the Blue Boar cellar, with party atmosphere compulsory, this should be another unforgettable night! Full details here and here!




Those who have seen these acts before will know what to expect: evocative and subtle world-folk invocations, reminiscent of Seven Swans-era Sufjan Stevens, from Rachael Dadd (The Hand, Whalebone Polly); fuzzy, wavelike indie-pop from the Fence Collective's Rozi Plain (ahead of a slot at the Apple Cart Festival in London on Sunday); and Ichi, from Nagoya, Japan, bringing a host of homemade instruments and party tricks, the most jaw-dropping, entertaining and hilarious one-man-band you are ever likely to see!




There will be free party bags for early arrivals, naturally, and then Club Anemone will slip its moorings and move quietly into the night one last time.. satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be other, similarly naive and single-minded people out there, also mad enough to put on gigs.. and some of them will probably be the most interesting nights that Bournemouth has to offer, whether it be Alan Krayon's irregular nights of improv-grind insanity, or Houschka's bold new ventures. And who knows, perhaps Conrad will start booking crazy Japanese laptop-electronica singers again one day? We can but hope..



The Pictish Trail and Rozi Plain, shortly before boarding The Simulator.


Golden Ghost and Viking Moses upsetting the neighbours, after the first gig, many many moons ago.



Confused but happy punters.