Theeee Billy Childish Report

Report from Gbomb. Too bad bloggers going to go down in about four minutes.

CHILDISH REPORT
I wouldn’t have gone out on Sunday night for anyone less than a Childish, a Fulks or maybe Donovan, so I was really glad that he gave such a great performance. The poetry was great, very Childish: anecdotal, informal and british-y. I really liked it, but I realized after about 10 poems that if I didn’t sit down that I may end up being known as the girl who fainted at the Childish poetry reading, so I went and sat in a booth. He only read for 10 or 15 minutes more and then he got up with a full band. His wife played bass and sang and Naz from the Mummies played the drums. Billy did some acapella numbers and they did some kind of straight forward r&b stuff and then did old a lot of Americana. There were a couple of spirituals I recognized, a Leadbelly song and probably other covers that I am too hip to recognize. When Billy’s wife (who I am sure has a name, maybe “Bringer of the Black Volvo”) sang her voice was Appalachian and haunting. She definitely had a Hazel Dickens tone. It was beautiful and had that sweet jolie lead* twang. They also laughed a lot together and were seemingly having a great time. It was fun to watch. The last song brought it all back home by having a rollicking traditional Headcoats sound. I was satisfied.
IRONSIDES REPORTI sat on the floor of Old Ironsides which I do now. My new rule for that is that on days I consume peeps and have a god knows how many bottles of Shaw hangover I can sit on the goddamn floor of goddamn Old Ironsides, okay? So if you see me doing that, it’s a special occasion to be sure, so let it go. There was also this weird security thing. They seem to be so obsessed with that little curtained off area in the back right of the main room. Someone came by to check no one was in there and then it was guarded for the rest of the night. Maybe there was gold in there or maybe a bunch of 30-something aging former punks are more likely to raid the kitchen than Thunderfinger fans. Go figger.