onionbagblog

Another weekend, another @billybragg gig.

Blimey.

After taking on the RBS bankers at Speaker’s Corner, and then offering real redemption for prison inmates, it was Back to Basics with Billy Bragg, and back to the day job for a ULU gig on Saturday night.

Sort of.

The show was in support of raising funds for fighting the BNP at the general election. It’s the kind of gig that Bill has put himself up for throughout the past twenty-five years.

You need funds to fight the forces that want to upset our social cohesion. It also helps to have a one-man band full of charisma to spread the message, and one who has resolutely refused to compromise and allow his principles to be diluted.

I often watch Billy Bragg and come away wishing that our politicians were more like him. But it’s a messy business politics. It’s all about power, posturing and back scratching. Billy Bragg deserves better.

The gig itself was Billy Bragg at his best. There’s nowhere to hide on stage for one man and his guitar. The set mixed up Life’s a Riot with Brewing Up and even some Mermaid Avenue.

The message was anti-fascism, pro-compassion and a belief in community. Politicians have changed policies, and big business has taken control of our society over the past quarter of a century. The solution remains the same. Billy Bragg put it across perfectly on stage at ULU on Saturday night.

In the absence of any political party being brave enough to put forward a genuinely progressive agenda ahead of the election, it’s a sorry state for democracy when we have to rely on a pop star to raise the profiles of the issues that matter.

Billy Bragg’s tireless campaigning against the payment of million pound plus bonuses to the bankers of the nationalised RBS Bank, has forced politicians to debate the issue.

But Saturday night at ULU was all about stopping the BNP in Barking and Dagenham, Bill’s home patch. With the general election nothing but a “wishy washy choice between two parties that are the same,” the real issue in Essex is stopping the fascists.

It is here where BNP thug Nick Griffin is trying to get elected as an MP with a mandate for racism. With the Labour party weak on the ground, now is the time to expose the BNP for all the hatred that it represents.

April 17th is a key day in the constituency. It has been put aside to campaign against the fascists that want to take control of Barking and Dagenham. Put aside serious concerns over Tory funding, Nu Labour’s love affair with big business and the LibDems, well, I’m not entirely sure about anything to do with the LibDems – fighting fascists in the crucial battle at the general election.

As yer man said on Saturday night:

“Wearing badges is not enough, in days like these.”

Slightly late on the uptake here, but Sunday night and I was West End bound for yet another evening with @billybragg. I’ve seen the Bard more times in the past month than I have all year. And there’s still more to come with a gig at ULU this weekend.

Blimey.

But this wasn’t your traditional Billy Bragg gig. The performance at the Prince Charles Cinema concluded the screening of Breaking Rocks, the film telling the remarkable story of the Jail Guitar Doors project:

Jail Guitar Doors is an independent initiative, which aims to provide instruments to those who are using music as a means of achieving the rehabilitation of prison inmates.

Put simply, Billy (and others) raise money to fund the purchase of guitars for inmates. Aware of the scope that music can have for positive action, the aim is firmly on rehabilitation, and possible opportunities post release from prison.

Yeah, yeah – why should we give resources to criminals who rob, assault and genuinely cause problems within society? As Mark Thomas explains during the film – people who try and politicise the penal system are forgetting that most prisoners are eventually released. It therefore makes sense to try and change their behaviour, and offer our support.

Jail Guitar Doors isn’t advocating a brand new Fender bass for mass murderers. There are some criminals that deserved to be locked up for life, such is the severity of their crime, as Billy Bragg explained on the night.

It’s the career petty criminals, sucked into a cycle of crime and abuse that the project tries to help. There are some genuine success stories, such as Leon Watson, a remarkable (and incredibly witty) singer songwriter, who entertained the cinema crowd following the film.

The inspiration for Jail Guitar Doors came from Joe Strummer. Most things involving Billy Bragg usually do. Wanting to put into action some form of celebration five years after Uncle Joe’s death, Bill was given the opportunity to visit a local jail in his Devon area to try and offer musical support.

One visit became a succession of trips, and soon a tour of prisons around the country was in place, putting on workshops and exploring the creativity and ideas of some of the inmates.

Sponsorship came from Hanks on Denmark Street, which very kindly sold on the guitars at cost price. Bill makes a point of stating that the guitars are not a gift. This is not a prison basket-weaving club. You’re in it to try and transform your life, not to pass away the time behind bars.

The screening on Sunday night was warm, affectionate and funny. Brixton prison is featured in the film, with a surprising number of inmates already having musical talent, and just needing that extra help to find a release for their skills.

Twenty prisons have so far been supplied with the Jail Guitar Doors. Five hundred pounds is what it costs to supply each prison with the equipment. Bill has been on tour with the film and a selection of rehabilitated musicians for the past month. The bucket collection alone in London came up with £400 on the night – very real financial help with tangible results right in front of our eyes.

A Q & A session followed the screening. Questions were answered about the selection of inmates for the scheme (the talents comes to you,) the funding of the scheme by government (absolutely not – independence is best) and how we can support the offenders once released (put on gigs and promote.)

Half an hour then followed with a couple of the released inmates showcasing their skills. These are genuine, hard working professional musicians. The evidence was right in front of us. It’s got to be better than the cycle of petty crime.

As ever, the beacon for all of this is Billy Bragg. We finished off with three songs, including I Keep Faith. This is the inspiration I need. It reaffirms everything I do and stand for, and always leaves me full of positive action for the future.

The next step for Jail Guitar Doors is to take the show on the road to the States. A spot at SXSW has been booked, with the project going full circle with the involvement of MC5 guitarist, Wayne Kramer.

The Clash’s Jail Guitar Doors was written originally about Kramer, and so the story has some wonderful symmetry with the former US inmate now taking the music as a redemption song into Stateside prisons.

The film finishes off with rendition of Jail Guitar Doors by a gurning Mick Jones, a respectful looking Topper Headonand Billy Bragg bashing out the chords in his best old punk skool style. But perhaps more importantly, a studio full of strumming inmates, now released, rehabilitated and full of optimism, are the real stars of the performance.

Uncle Joe would have been proud.

Wigmore Street, W1, The Way We See It.

This week we’re back in the centre of town for Wigmore Street. It’s a busy street running parallel to Oxford Street and you’d be forgiven for thinking there was little there. But it does have some rather stunning architectural features if you take a little look upwards.

There’s also the very wonderful Wigmore Hall. It was built by C. Bechstein Pianofortefabrik, the German piano manufacturer whose showroom was next door between 1899 and 1901.

Other than this nugget of history, number 95 was the original home of The Beatles Apple Corp. It’s busy, hectic and I think there’s a lot to photograph. Enjoy!

Essex Road, N1, The Way We See It.

“One day soon we’ll have a pretty location – but this week we’re off to what should be a nice posh area, but the road is anything but. Essex Road is in Islington, but whereas most of the borough has been gentrified and made beyond the means of most of us mortals, Essex Road still seems to have retained some of the original charm of the area.

Sure the top end near Islington Green has it’s fair share of trendy pubs and the lovely S & M cafe. But the further you get down, the more the shops become local, with fruit and veg and a fishmongers.

However, far and above my favorite inhabitant of Essex Road is at 105. The aptly named Get Stuffed has been in all sorts of trouble in the past over dodgy suppliers, and whatever your feelings are for stuffed animals, it’s a place you find you can’t just pass by without taking a little peek.

Further down there’s the ubiquitous bingo hall. This is a Grade II listed affair in wonderful mock Egyptian Style, formerly the Carlton Cinema. You can’t miss it.

There is also the usual mix of new developments, council flats and a somewhat incongruous semi-circle of Georgian houses. More shops, garages etc finish the road off.

There’s so much to see here, so much of interest that I’m sure you’ll have no problems finding thirty shots, let alone just three.”

Newport Court, WC2, The Way We See It.

Deep breath…

And relax.

Time hopefully to return to some form of normality, and some half-decent pretty pictures.

Cripes.

“More of a challenge for you all this week and to celebrate the Chinese New Year we head to China Town. Newport Court runs from Charing Cross Road to Newport Place and it’s a really nice bustly street full of life.

Naturally the laterns are out for the New Year and if you make it on the 14th you’ll be in for all the fun there. I’m not sure if it’s still there but there was a great shop selling cheap CD’s [Steve's - long since gone...]

There’s not much history as you can imagine from such a small street, but there’s plenty going on to snap, and it’s nearly always full of people.”

Once final excursion to the Chapel Market Cheapo Curry Club up at Islington ahead of the Great Escape later this year. Expectations were high, wallets were low in value, as @richardgallon, @AnnaJCowen and myself navigated our way up to the wastelands of North London.

The bonkers N1 curry house use to be a way of life for us during our formative London years. We dined there out of financial necessity, stocking up on body fat reserves for the week. The return for the Last Supper on Saturday was one taken more in the spirit of irony.

Not much has changed in N1. Chapel Market was as bustling as ever, as we wheeled our bicycles from The Angel end towards the badlands of Barnsbury Road. For all the talk of Granita Pacts being sealed at Islington back in the day, I couldn’t but help think that our conversation and cuisine was a very different N1 experience.

Much like the food, the green livery of the Indian Veg has remained unchanged in the fifteen years since we first set foot in the place. In the minimalist world of Less is More, Indian Veg is the inverse of this.

The restaurant front is plastered with what appears to be placards from an animals rights rally attended by very hungry veggies. The More is Less theme continues once inside, with second, third and even fourth helpings from the sitting, all served up for less than a fiver.

Ah, about that price. I was enticed into a rare excursion north of the river under the firm understanding that only £3.50 of my South London currency would be required. I have memories of paying £2.50 back in the day, and was slightly alarmed at this 40% price hike.

But blimey – I almost headed back to my SW8 base when the shock of the £3.95 signage caught my eye amongst the all the veggie lifestyle placard platitudes.

Something had to give.

“A drink for you Sir?” asked our maitre ‘d. I had no shame in ordering the finest tap water in the house.

Using the Alan Partridge technique of choosing the largest buffet place, I then set about the task of piling up the veggie produce with a stack ‘em high attitude that the traders back down the Chapel Market would have been proud of.

If you’re concerned with the quality of the cuisine at Chapel Market, then you’re missing the point. Essentially you eat to add energy. I made no mistake in making sure that my body reserves would see me through the rest of the weekend.

There’s a selection of five curry dishes, all as rich in stodge as they are as beneficial to your bank balance. The rice was tender, and the onion bhajis although rather basic, somehow came to life when topped up with one of the cream sauce dishes.

I sat down and gave my stomach a stern test. The conversation turned towards the many enlightening posters that adorn the walls. It’s the same Eastern hippy s*** that dear old George Harrison use to espouse, whilst somehow still taking the practise of yogic flying seriously.

It was around this time that I confused Eat as Much as You Like with Eat as Much as You Can. A second helping wasn’t necessary, but I needed to justify the price hike.

I piled my plate up high once again, only to realise than the poster promise of an “orgasmic veggie experience” would probably be taking place in the toilet, rather than on the chef’s palette.

Persistence paid off, as well as a mid-meal break. The second plate was cleared, and soon it time to settle up. The £3.95 price at Indian Veg is the exact amount expected.

You’re not dining in a poncey Soho restaurant, and so there is no expectation for a service charge price hike. We scrambled around for change, and left a tip adding a further 40%.

I’d had my fill – for the weekend, the next week and probably for the following year. Which is just as well, as we plan the Great Escape over the coming months.

And so fifteen years of living the veggie lifestyle up in N1 comes to an end. To be honest it was more an economic argument than a humanitarian statement. It’s another item on the Farewell London list ticked off, and one which will probably keep my energy reserves up, all the way up until we actually reach Wivenhoe.

comeout2nite was the rather kind request from former work colleague and now firm pal @jamboshoeshine – and so comeout2nite I most definitely did, along with @darryl1974 and @richardgallon. In North London as well.

Blimey.

Ah, north of the river; I had a nosebleed as soon as the N63 crossed at Blackfriars. The friendly face of @darryl1974 boarded on the next stop, completely oblivious to the weird man wearing his cravat scarf, sitting on the back seat.

A touch of onboard bus tweeting later, and the mood was set for the evening – full on fun, with a touch of confusion and misunderstanding thrown in for good measure.

The last time I drank at the Betsey Trotwood, EC1, was for a work leaving party of mine that never was. I sort of left, but didn’t really, but now have. Add into the mix the small matter of come(ing)out2nite with ex-work colleagues, and you can see how the confusion continued to creep in.

Not even time for the first drinks, when the good @darryl1974 and I were tapped on the shoulder, and tapped up by a rather charming young lady. Cripes. She was already on first names terms with us, even without any introductions. Ah, that will be a friend of @richardgallon, already told to be on the look out for two nerdy bloggers propping up the Clerkenwell bar.

As for Mr @richardgallon himself? Further confusion as a tweet dropped asking about our whereabouts. Downstairs, came the reply, not knowing that we were actually on the ground floor, unaware of the dungeon down below.

@toddnash soon made an appearance with “new lady friend,” who actually turned out to be his lovely old lady friend, despite the tenderness in her years. All of this North London clubbing lark was clearly getting to me.

And so there ends the rather long and elongated introduction into how an evening of glorious indie pop fun got off on a rather weird tangent, yet somehow managed to continue with the merry band of comeout2nite(rs), reunited in the basement bar for booze, banter and a bop.

I like to think of comeout2nite as the rather kooky younger cousin to How Does It Feel. For a club night that boasts bis, Moldy Peaches and Half Man Half Biscuit on the flyer, you know that you’re going to grin a lot throughout the evening.

Sultans of Ping took me back to the indie disco bopping of mispent youth; Stereolab’s French Disko is still a killer tune and sounded as fresh as ever as the swagger of the Marxist / cycling collectve filled the basement cellar.

Yer man @jamboshoeshine seemed to be on fine form, mixing his DJ skills with front of house meet ‘n greet duties. The Good Lady Wife (down, and then down again) was also packing them in on the dance floor with her transatlantic take on UK indie loser culture.

I loved this part of the evening. Early ’70s glam Bowie is just perfect for the feel of the evening, but none of the clichés were pulled out. Muso conversations were attempted, but ultimately your feet just can’t stand still when Helen Love comes a calling.

Sadly also coming a calling was a rather early start on Sunday morning back at the coalface. A few farewells, and then I was back on the N63 and SW8 bound. Some plum talking tart on the backseat asked if “we are at Angel” as the bus pulled in at The Oval.

Mass confusion, from start to finish. I felt like I had spent the evening in a parallel universe. Perhaps Clerkenwell is an anomaly in the space-time continuum?

comeout2nite next time to find out.

Top night, kids.