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We LOLLED around quite a lot, went to the beach at Formentor (Judith Chalmers alert: it was LIKE PARADISE) on a BOAT, went to Pollenca itself (
Man ALIVE, Palma was BRILLIANT - it was actually AS ACE as all the descriptions I'd heard of Barcelona, but unlike Barcelona actually WAS that relaxed, GROOVY, and FUN. I have spent the time since plotting ways in which the Vlads can record our NEXT album there. In the evening we went to Bar Tomate for "Solo Concierto Acustico En Mallorca - Direct From Leicester UK".
I have done some STRANGE GIGS in my life, but this was probably one of the MOST STRANGE. The Bar was LOVELY, it's run by some PALS we know from London, and the clientele was also nice - again, it was like being IN a guide book, as The Beer In My 33cl Can Of San Miguel and i sat at the end of the bar chatting to people of many races as the time sped towards midnight. At about 11.00pm (LATE!) i did the following set:
The Peterborough All Saints Wide Game Team (group B)
Red And White Sockets
Payday is The Best Day
The Perfect Love Song
Hey Hey 16K
The Lesson Of The Smiths
Clubbing In The Week
Boom Shake The Room
Fly Me To The Moon
It was a fairly usual UBERSET... except hardly anybody had a CLUE what i was singing about! As the words EMERGED from my mouth i realised that not only were the songs ABOUT things that didn't necessarily translate, they used WORDS that probably weren't included in English Syllabuses for ANYONE, and at a very FAST RATE too. Everybody was very nice about it anyway, or nearly everybody - it seems that Man Who Talks Loudly IS translatable across international boundaries. This is the chap who OBJECTS to somebody ELSE being centre of attention, and so stands in front of The Artiste with his back turned, LOUDLY tries to engage other people in conversation, and uses his mobile phone as much as possible. Now, i was playing WITHOUT a PA, so it could have been a struggle, but luckily for me there were GIRLS there who seemed (for some reason) to enjoy the GIG, and Man Who Talks Loudly is ALWAYS swayed by that sort of thing, and BLESS HIM, by the end of the night he was enjoying it too, shook my hand as he left, and turned out to be a NICE CHAP. Aaah, crossing the language barrier with ROCK!
I felt a little HOARSE and tired after the ODD experience, but a couple of requests and a couple of BEERS led me to do a SECOND SET, as follows:
Praise The Traffic Warden
Good Luck In Your New Job
Never Going Back To Aldi's
I Come From The Fens
Too Good To Be True
Billy Jones Is Dead
As i say, it was a STRANGE experience, sat in the corner of the bar BELLOWING out the songs, grinning away and EMOTING each song, knowing that hardly anybody there had a CLUE what i was on about. I wonder how somebody SPANISH would have gone down in the corner of an English Bar if they'd sung a whole pile of songs in Very Complicated Catalan with EXTREMELY long monologues in between, during which they tried to explain what they were about to sing by shouting "Traffic Wardens? Traffic Wardens, yes?" and having to remember NOT to say "Trafficos Wardenios?" like Someebody's Dad? I was actually EMBARRASED by my lack of language, especially when "Buenos Nachos!" , "Gracias!", and "Mucho Cervesa!" stopped being useful.
It was a very happy Hibbett who finished the SET though, and I felt very pleased to have done something so DERANGED as that - as The Cathedral In My City said, it was a bit of a MILESTONE, and it was also one chunk of LOVELINESS in a very lovely week. I love Holidays, Holidays are GRATE!
posted 2/10/2005 by MJ Hibbett
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