venta

My Sunday was planning to be fairly lazy, but ChrisC derailed it quite early on. Did I fancy going to see the Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra and Jim Bob in Highgate? And Chris T-T? For £3? And there would be pizza?

Oh, all right then.

In a move most uncharacterstic of London-gig-going, we jumped in the car. Straight round the North Circular and down the A1, pulling up in a free parking space on the main road more or less directly outside the venue. Surprise all round.

I've never been to the Boogaloo before. It's a smallish pub which (resounding cheers all round) actually sells proper bitter. And has odd pictures, murals and quotations all round the walls. And, apparently, a "legendary" jukebox. So we got some drinks in, wedged ourself onto some small stools, and watched as Strawberry & Cream came on stage.

Where by stage I mean "that bit of floor over there".

Strawberry & Cream turned out to be two ladies in corresponding polka-dotty dresses and matching electric double basses, who sang in fabulous Andrews-sisters-esque doo-woppy harmony. They had a borrowed drummer who (as Strawberry put it) "busked beautifully".

I suspect that Strawberry (black dress, red dots) is by far the better bass player; but Cream (red dress, black dots) had a bloomin' amazing voice. Huge range, and able to whip out stunning coloratura bits when inclined. They did a few songs of their own, and some unexpected covers (Bonnie Tyler, Muse, Jimmy Nail...). Their between-song comedy banter was a bit flaky and strained at times, but musically they were huge fun. Their online listenables don't really do them justice. When they left the stage, I figured I'd already had my £3-worth of fun.

The whole afternoon was organised and compered by Martin White, late of Dave Gorman's radio show and prone to popping up all over the place. He'd invited along one of his favourite singer-songwriters, Chris T-T.

Chris T-T has an odd, husky voice and sings songs about trees and giraffes and ends of relationships and all manner of things. And, having realised that his records were far too sweary for small children, has recently done an album of AA Milne poems set to music. Armed only with the Boogaloo's somewhat shonky pub piano, he did a cracking version of the poem about not treading on the squares (or the bears will get you).

Then he borrowed some of the Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra, and did various extra songs with brass sections and string sections and such. He's well worth seeing. He's got a player-thingy on his website which will let you listen to stuff.

And then... the Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra. At some point we'd suddenly noticed there were music stands everywhere. There are 21 of the Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra (22 including Martin White), and that's a lot more people than you can fit on "stage" at the Boogaloo.

The Orchestra is also strangely, endearingly shambolic. They were halfway through the first song before it was revealed that some of the horn section were, in fact, still at the bar. They are remarkably talented, critically under-rehearsed, massive fun and kept in line by a borderline-apoplectic guy playing the accordion and shouting "for fuck's sake!" at intervals. Their songs range from beautiful to bloody ridiculous, and you can listen to them here.

Somewhere around this point, the wood-fired pizza I'd ordered from Garry's pop-up pizza stall out the back arrived. Pesto and spinach, though I think they forgot to add the extra artichokes I'd ordered. It was nice, though actually a bit pricey in the circs.

Festivities wound up with Jim Bob (yes, half of Carter USM) donning a guitar. It wasn't a long trip onstage, since he had in fact been sitting at a bar table with Chris T-T all afternoon, singing along to all the other acts.

Jim Bob was singing all his own solo material - the only song I knew was Back to School, from his surprisingly-decent School album. However, it was all good narrative stuff, entertaining and enjoyable - if slightly more pun-free than I might have hoped. We sat in our warm, lighted bubble and listened while the ambulances, police cars and number 43 buses tore past the windows.

The evening finished with all of the Orchestra on stage, Chris T-T on the piano, and Jim Bob standing on a table while a mate of his filled the entire pub with soap bubbles.

What's not to like for £3?