haiku 11 april

a cap on a bench

in the park of

an old people’s home

 

 

(It was a tweed cap on a bench. It felt a little bit sad to see it there, left behind. I wondered who had left it there. Then I discovered that my 7-month old son in a pram is missing a shoe. He must have kicked it out of the pram. I decided to backtrack to look for it. A lady walking with an elderly woman stopped me and asked if we had not lost a shoe, that her husband was looking for us. I rushed towards the front of the retirement home to look for the man. There was nobody. An older man passed us and said he knew we were looking for a shoe and that the man with the shoe was looking for us. I felt like in a James Bond movie. Everybody was looking for the shoe. Sebastian was getting restless, so we sat on a bench and I took him out of the pram. He was smiling at me. Then I saw a man waving the shoe over his head. He came to us with a big smile and handed me the shoe. I thanked him a 10 times and told him it was very kind of him. He smiled and left. What a nice man.)

Lamb in concert, 30 January 2012, Luxembourg

When it was announced that Lamb would play Luxembourg, I rushed to break the news to my girlfriend, who I knew was their fan. I remember coming to her office once, years ago (we had not been together yet), and asking her about the music she was listening to. It was their famous song Gabriel. She told me there was a time when she had been listening to it over and over again for hours… I did not know the band then, but I liked the song and the band’s name.

Come 30 January and we stand at the door to the Den Atelier venue. It’s freezing outside so everybody is inside in a lobby aptly named the Smoker’s Heaven. Trying not to breathe too much, we put our coats into the cloakroom and move on to the bar. I opt for a glass of red wine, which I get served in a (this is Luxembourg) real wine glass. The second support band has just finished and we squeeze our way among the audience almost to the front of the stage. The Luxembourg crowd don’t like to squeeze too much, which suits us, the weathered Central Europeans who are quite used to it.

It’s a few minutes before 10 o’clock when the lights go down, an instrumental intro comes up and our pulse quickens. The first person on the stage is the bearded double bass player, Jon Thorne, then comes the bubbly “master of the electronic devices” and producer Andy Barlow and the last is the diva of the band, Lou Rhodes. Dressed in an ethereal white dress and black leather trousers, she has a fantastic, low-positioned voice, which she is able to raise into sky-heights, as we will see.

We hear Hello Luxembourg (or something similar, I can’t remember), and on we go. I am fascinated by the way Andy Barlow is playing his multitude of electronic boxes and machines. He twists one knob there, pushes another button here, taps something on the computer…

But it’s all happening really fast, the changes in rhythm come at unexpected moments, harmonious passages are interrupted by ferocious breakbeats… And here comes their gratest hit – Gabriel. My beloved smiles and her eyes glisten… We watch the bass player, who is absolutely absorbed by the music and in the fast, electronic, passages his eyes flash with a sense of ultimate urgency.

Lou Rhodes is the most reserved of the three, expressing all emotions through her voice.

After each song she emits a shy “merci”. The time flies and here comes the beautiful Gorecki, inspired by a work of a Polish composer. One of the highlights for me. I like the way they can build up tension before erupting in orgasmic crescendo.

Another highlight is the last song – Trans Fatty Acid with a faboulous rhythm and otherworldly double bass effects. The band changes into a group of maniacs and as they lead] the crowd to the top. The audience erupts in applause once again and this time even the band’s technical guy backstage raises his arms into the air and joins the happy cheering crowd.

We linger on, watching the techies disassembling the stage, as we always do. Some folks ask for set-lists.
We squeeze among the crowd by the merchandise table and buy the latest album. The members of the band sign it and we congratulate them for their brilliant show. They seem really down-to-earth and amiable.

Only outside, in the wintry, quiet streets we realise how deafened we are. But it does not matter much. Each of us replays his favourite passages from the show as we march on the crunchy, icy, pavement. I love the light in my girlfriend’s eyes after she has seen something beautiful, taken a pretty picture, written something, has done something she likes. We lock hands and march on in the freeze.