WEYES BLOOD

CHAPTER TWELVE: WEYES BLOOD/ANA ROXANNE AT ELECTRIC, BRIXTON – 30/10/19

I have to say I don’t think I’ve been this excited about a gig since Oasis played at the Bournemouth International Centre in 1995.
  I leave straight from work. I get the Central Line from Wanstead to Oxford Circus. Oxford Circus is really busy. There are people everywhere. It’s quite incredible, and a little bit terrifying. There’s a man, who I can’t see, providing a wry commentary through the P.A. system. “You know the drill,” he says, as the train for Brixton arrives, “no smiling, avoid all eye contact.” 
  Walking through Brixton I see a man getting annoyed with someone for barging into them. The man scrunches up his face and swears loudly. He looks like he wants a fight, or at least some sort of satisfaction. A man with no teeth asks me for money. I say, “No, sorry, I don’t have any cash on me.” Another man looks shifty, standing behind a little display of knock-off goods. 
  I walk past the venue, ELECTRIC BRIXTON. There are people queuing up already, even though it’s only 6:30, and the doors don’t open until 7:00 and the first act isn’t on until 8:30. I’m not going to do that, I think. Instead I go and sit on a bench in the dark park across the road and write this in my notebook. That’s just me all over. Instead of joining a queue, I sit on my own on a bench in a dark park and write about not joining the queue. That pretty much just sums me up.

I enter the venue shortly after seven. Some other excited people are already staking out their positions at the front of the stage. And I do want to be near the front, so I do the same. 
  I check the time. It’s going to be a long wait. One hour and twenty minutes to go before the music starts.
  A man, standing in front of me, of diminutive stature, asks me if I mind saving his space while he visits the toilet. 
  “Do you mind saving my space?” he says. 
  “Not at all,” I say.
  I am suddenly not sure what I would do if anyone tries to move into the space while the man is gone. I could say something like, “Excuse me, but that space belongs to a man of diminutive stature who has just gone to the toilet,” but that would be ridiculous. Luckily the man returns before I am called upon to actually do anything.
  Only another hour and five minutes to go.
  I spend about ten minutes deciding whether or not to go to the toilet myself. What the hell, I think, and then I go. I manage to return to my space without any trouble, so I think, ultimately, I’ve made the right decision. 
  Only fifty minutes left.
  Jesus. Fifty minutes. That’s quite a lot.
  The girl next to me, who has a short fringe and round steel-rimmed glasses, is registering to vote on her phone. 
  The diminutive man in front is checking his social media feed. Nothing much seems to be happening.
  “My dad so wishes he was here,” says a girl behind me
  I check to see if my glasses need cleaning. They don’t.
  Half an hour to go.
  Wife texts to ask when we started secondary school. ’81, I reply. 
  Wife texts back: You mean ’91. 
  I text: Oh yeah.
  That kills a couple of minutes. Thanks wife.
  Only fifteen minutes to go now. Almost there. I’ve done well. I’ve almost made it. 
  Five minutes.
  People are trying to push in front now. No way. I’ve been standing here for over an hour. 
  I stand my ground. 
  And then, finally, the wait is over.

Using a bass guitar, her voice and a couple of little boxes with knobs, ANA ROXANNE creates little dreams of sound. It’s very quiet, and the audience is respectfully attentive. No din of background chatter here. We’re a good crowd. Nice. Supportive. “I’ve never played a gig in front of so many people before,” she says, and gets a big supportive cheer. She recites a poem about how water is a ‘unifier’ and ‘accepts everyone’ and takes many forms but never loses its ‘essence’. Everyone claps.
  Ana Roxanne sounds a bit like Julee Cruise, but a more spaced-out version, if you can imagine that. She ends with a cover. “I hope you recognise it,” she says. It’s The World Spins by Julee Cruise. But a more spaced-out version, if you can believe that.

WEYES BLOOD are really good. 
  Movies is extraordinary. I could weep like a baby, but I don’t like getting my face wet in public.