I headed off to the Blang evening at the 12 Bar for John Peel Eve last night - but before I start any sort of analysis of the bands present, I feel I ought to make both a disclaimer and apology. You see, almost every time I write about obscure Indie bands on this journal, I find myself having to apologise for what I've said sometimes mere days later. It doesn't matter if my impressions of the act are largely favourable, they'll pick up on any uncertainty or criticism I throw in for balance, and seem mildly disconcerted despite the fact that only about thirty people actually read the drivel I'm writing here.

There's a simple explanation for this, of course - obscure London indie bands are naturally keen Vanity Googlists. In fact, sometimes I suspect that all I'd have to do is write a livejournal entry consisting entirely of names of bands very few people have heard of and my hit rate for that day would go up by a hundred. I still haven't bloody heard from Animals That Swim yet, though, and they've been leaving messages on other people's blogs. Perhaps going absolutely overboard with praise for bands makes them fear you may be a potential stalker.

Anyway, I'll try be a bit less picky this time around and ignore my journalism training. I appreciate I may have been a bit unnecessarily harsh in the past to a bunch of people who are, to be fair, trying to get a foothold on the music industry ladder.

Firstly, I have to say that the atmosphere was brilliantly set by the idea of having tapes of old John Peel shows rolling between the acts. It was a poignant reminder of what a great broadcaster we've lost, and also suited the 12 Bar's relaxed atmosphere very well. If anyone at the BBC would like to set up a rolling John Peel Internet Radio station consisting entirely of old shows, I for one would happily tune in. Even his archive material has the capacity to amaze and surprise - after all, many of the bands he championed in decades gone by bit the dust by the time of my teens and have now been forgotten about (who remembers Stackwaddy, a band he actually released records by? Or Principal Edwards Magic Theatre? Thought not). His dry wit also suited the relaxed atmosphere of the venue, and (for reasons I cannot logically explain) its historical origins as an old Industrial Revolution Iron Foundry. Perhaps someone can "unpack" that thought for me, I'm not sure that I'm making a great deal of sense.

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Anyway, besides all this music fun I have a cockroach update for you all. We have now established that the roaches are coming from the flat downstairs where a motley crew of builders (who actually work for my landlord) live. Evidence, should it be necessary, comes from the fact that I've seen them scurrying happily around their front door, and also the fact that I've peered into their dwellings now and regard it to be more disgusting and full of decomposing matter than any squat I've witnessed. So, not only is the landlord being a pain in the arse about fumigating the block, the source of the problem stems from his employees. It's difficult to know who is the bigger parasite here, the insects themselves, or the person we're giving a large percentage of our income to.

...And... for the sake of amusement, and to end on a light note... savage Australian satirists CNNN have done a series of vox pops out in America to try and establish who the public there think should be invaded next. It makes for hilarious viewing (US readers should also note that CNNN did an equally nasty series of vox pops on the Australian public at the last General Election there, so they shouldn't feel too victimised).
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