MAKAYA MCCRAVEN

MAKAYA MCCRAVEN AT ISLINGTON ASSEMBLY HALL, ISLINGTON – 18/11/22

My more open positive attitude to life, which I adopted last Tuesday, is already producing results. Walking through Islington just now with a warm and friendly demeanour, rather than my usual scowl, a woman stopped me to ask if I knew where the Odeon cinema was. I wasn’t sure, but I thought for a moment, and then I thought that I was pretty sure where it was, so I could help, which was great. So I told the woman where I was pretty sure it was. I didn’t tell her I was only pretty sure that it was there; I acted like there was no doubt in my mind and she seemed pleased with my information. “If you get to Angel,” I said, “you’ve gone too far.” The woman smiled. I made a stranger smile, I thought to myself. I wondered how long it had been since I made a stranger smile, and whether this might not have actually been the first time.

The trouble with being really early for stuff is that you have to wait ages for anything to start. I’ve got an almost two hour wait. Two hours of just nothing. Just sitting here waiting. I buy a ginger beer and go and sit down at the front by the railings. At least I’ll be at the front. You know what I’m like about being at the front. I have to be at the front. I can’t bear to have anyone else between me and the music. The connection has to be direct. I text B__ D______ to see if he wants to go see Eiko Ishibashi on Sunday. I have a ticket but can’t go. He gets back pretty quickly saying yes please. I write a poem called Cartoon Versions about two men I watch greeting each other. Now what, I think.

MAKAYA MCCRAVEN is a man of few words. Beyond introducing the band, thanking us for coming and a little anecdote about their flight arriving ten minutes before it departed (some time zone shenanigans, I guess, or perhaps actual time travel), he doesn’t say much, but lets his drumming do the talking instead, which it is quite happy to do. It nice to see Junius Paul again. I really love his whole vibe, like the tights he always wears like an 80s superhero, and the way he, sometimes, sticks his tongue out when he’s concentrating, like wife does too, sometimes (not all the time). And Marquis Hill, he’s great too. They’re both wearing sunglasses which must make it really hard to see, especially when it’s pretty dark anyway. It’s serious music. It’s not messing around. It’s not for laughs. People are nodding their heads quite purposefully.

 

Serious shit

After the show I introduce myself to Alabaster Deplume. I tell him how much I enjoyed the Barbican show, and he thanks me for living and says I have a great smile. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before, at least not since I was a kid. I sit outside and write in my notebook while the crowd disperses.

As I drive home towards Angel station I realise that the Odeon cinema is not where I thought it was. The cinema I thought was an Odeon is in fact a Vue. Never mind, I think, while eating the sandwich I made for myself earlier that day, I’m sure she’ll have found it eventually.