Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Today was the day that the Dunces got to visit the local license bureau to deal with our American driving privileges. As a US citizen resident overseas, I occasionally have to jump through some hoops in order to keep my license up to date, and this visit was one of those times. As the expiration date on my last license approached, I found myself in northwest Kentucky (home of my parents), and thus I found myself with a Kentucky driver's license (motto "It's <i>that</i> friendly"). But this time around I was not stopping in Kentucky, and will probably not visit the US before the expiration date (10-04-2006, especially since this expiration date would be interpreted in the UK as April 10th). Plus, Mrs. Dunce needed to get a replacement license with her married name on it, as it is recommended that this be done within ten days of the name change. OK this was a little late, but on our last visit (last year) her documents were not quite in order.

We were advised to arrive promptly at 7:30am when the license bureau opened, as it gets incredibly crowded, and stays crowded all day. So we did (give or take a half hour), and found that the license bureau was operating from a mobile trailer parked behind the actual building (one of many Pensacola-area establishments not fully recovered from the hurricane(s)). It was already quite crowded, and the phone was ringing off the hook. In a public services office this small, there are no secrets, and one of the biggest non-secrets was that the woman answering the phone had no patience for stupid questions. Although she expressed her non-patience in a very Southern way, speaking in exceedingly polite tones and peppering her responses with plenty of Sirs and Ma'ams. From her end of the conversation, we learned that:

* Your problems follow you everywhere, sir. If you've got a child-support suspension from anywhere, our records will show that.

* No ma'am I do not have an attitide. There are 20 people waiting in this tiny office and I need to assist them. No ma'am I do not know what they are here for. Probably driver's licenses, ma'am.

* We open at 7:30 and they are lining up then, sir. No ma'am, it is not traditionally an all-day affair.

* No ma'am, we are not open on Thanksgiving. I think you'll have a hard time finding any office open that day.

* No sir, we do not take appointments, just show up early and try your luck.


We also learned that teenagers cannot obtain their learner's permits without an official document certifying that they have completed a four-hour drug and alcohol awareness course. Fortunately we were well-behaved and didn't ask any stupid questions (and were apparently sufficiently aware of drugs and alcohol). It may also be relevant that Opal Dunce stopped and said hello to one of the branch's employees who just happens to be acquainted with her mother. In any event we were dealt with quickly and efficiently without having to pass along any "donations" for swift service. Now we both hold Florida driver's licenses in our correct names. Even if the photos are not so flattering.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005 5:07:47 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Sunday, November 20, 2005

The Dunces have safely arrived in Pensacola, Florida after a fairly ordinary and uneventful journey, and are now installed at Opal's Mother's Manor. For the longest leg of the the journey (9.5 hour flight from London to Atlanta, GA) we sat in front of two strangers (a twentysomething Philadelphian, and a middle-aged Englishwoman now living in rural Spain) who spent the last five hours of the journey talking absolute rubbish about various societal issues (religion, politics, paedos, etc.). Just a little bit too loud for me to ignore or tune out. I won't rant about anything they said, with the exception of "baby sign" which deserves its own entry later (don't start yet, I am not anti-baby sign). But it was just enough to make me slightly insane and extremely curmudgeonly.

When we changed in the airport in Atlanta, we had some time to occupy ourselves. Some of it was spent walking the length of the airport (none of your fancy-dancy airport light rail for us!), and obtaining then gobbling some messy sandwiches, but we did also have a few moments to observe the passing crowds. To me the most impressive demographic trend concerns the wearing of skirts and dresses by female individuals. Opal Dunce is a skirt-only sort of a person: her wardrobe does include garments with separate legs, but these items are only worn in circumstances of illness, or as pajamas. But at least in the Atlanta airport, she was as anomalous as a priest with a Mohawk. Perhaps I exaggerate as we saw no priests with Mohawks (nor any priests of any sort, come to think of it), but among the hundreds and hundreds of womenfolk heading to and fro, the number of skirts or dresses could be easily counted on one hand, with a couple of fingers left over for nose-maintenance issues (and my hands are normal, at least when it comes to the number of fingers). I hope Opal isn't planning to buy many skirts in these parts. Or perhaps Pensacola is different (I understand there are some Mennonites around, but Opal doesn't exactly favor floor-length denim).

Although we are traveling, our home is occupied. So don't get any ideas about helping yourself to our goodies.

Sunday, November 20, 2005 4:36:44 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Friday, November 18, 2005

Several weeks ago we had a break-in (see my entry here). It was an extremely targeted burglary as the only items taken were a laptop belonging to J--- ("the Lodger"), a US one dollar bill, and an Estonian five kroon note (worth about 20 pence). Well, as it turns out the laptop is no longer stolen but, incredibly, has found its way home (Just like Poco, the little dog with the big heart!). And here's the tale (subject to inaccuracies as I am telling it second-hand).

It all started when J--- received a phone call from Officer Friendly. A shifty gentleman had been spotted with a laptop that officers had some reason to suspect was not his (he may have been stopped for some other reason, I am not sure). His answers to questions about when, where and for how much he had purchased said laptop were not satisfactory, so the police offered to hold it for him (presumably waiting so that he could produce proof of purchase). Although this individual had deleted some of J---'s files, he hadn't deleted everything. Most importantly, a copy of J---'s CV with current contact details. So Officer Friendly contacted J--- and she was able to go to the police department and pick up the laptop!!! Or so you would think.

Upon arrival at the police department at the arranged time, she was informed that Officer Friendly was not in, and he was not expected until several hours later. A few days passed, and apparently more telephone calls were exchanged. Now the laptop was not available for release; it was being dealt with as evidence. Etc., etc. Some of us began to suspect that this was some sort of elaborate wind-up by someone not actually affiliated with the police, but using a real police officer's name. Perhaps ransom would be demanded, or perhaps even more sinister (maybe the laptop's new owner had claimed authorship of J---'s written work and wanted to taunt her with a multimillion pound book deal).

Anyway, another meeting was arranged, again at the police station. J--- arrived at the police station, but received a call on her mobile phone from Officer Friendly (calling from a mobile phone). "Are you at the station?" he asked. Indeed she was. "Go outside, across the street, and wait by the flagpole". A bizarre request indeed, but J--- was bold (and accompanied) so she complied. A vehicle pulled up, containing two women in plain clothes, who passed J--- the laptop (perhaps having her sign a form) and then took off. So, to my amazement, she did indeed recover the laptop.

Unfortunately, the power supply was not recovered (and Dell apparently uses a nonstandard power supply that costs a fortune and is not even compatible with power supplies for other Dell laptop models), so a complete examination of the laptop's contents has not yet been possible. Rumor has it, however, that it contains some music files, including what appears to be a set of home-made rap tracks. I'm hoping to get my hands on these. Perhaps we'll pretend to be the Artiste and get ourselves a multimillion pound record deal.

Oh yeah: The laptop isn't being kept in the house, so don't go breaking in trying to get it again. And we don't have any better valuables than we did at the time of the break-in.
Friday, November 18, 2005 12:12:49 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Wednesday, November 16, 2005

We have recently had a research article accepted for publication in a major journal (a link to the page proofs can be found here: pdf version, although the link may break as lab pages are being adjusted). One of the final editorial queries was a request for currency conversion:

"Wherever you list the monetary amounts that people were paid to participate, you list it only in pounds. We'll need the English equivalent, which we will place in parentheses."

It's true, we did list the amounts only in pounds (people were paid £3 for participating in our experiments reported in the paper). But I had a terrible time trying to find a conversion from British pounds to the English equivalent. For future reference, today's exchange rate seems to be 1.000000, which in a strange coincidence appears to be exactly the same as the rate for Welsh and Scottish currency.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005 11:11:16 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Last night Opal Dunce and I had the opportunity to travel to west London to see a gig1 at one of our favorite venues: Bush Hall (venue site)2. One of the added benefits to visiting the area is an excellent restaurant, Abu Zaad. It's a Syrian restaurant, apparently the only one in London. Back in 2002 when the "Axis of Evil" was extended to also include Cuba, Syria and Libya (BBC article), we saw a report on Channel Four News in which a reporter visited "the only Syrian restaurant in London" to get comments from the newly-appointed ambassadors of Evil. We were interested, not only in brazenly benefiting the spread of evil through capitalism, but also in eating the delicious meals that fill the tummies of evil people. When we finally went, we didn't see much evil, just quite a few local people (plus your occasional table of BBC employees) and our own table full of, well I am getting ahead of myself.

Abu Zaad is especially well-reviewed on london-eating.co.uk (9/10 on food, 8/10 on service, 8/10 on atmosphere, 8.8/10 on value). I would also include a link to a Time Out review but they only give a teaser for free: "A local restaurant for local people, and in Shepherd’s Bush that means Sudanese, Levantines, more Sudanese, westerners... and they all seem to be on first-name terms with the staff. Abu Zaad...". To read more you must sign up for a "free trial promotion" ("When you sign up during a free trial promotion you will be asked to supply your credit card details, however your credit card will not be charged until the free trial period has expired." How irritating). Anyway, we've now visited there going on ten times (I'd say) so now I feel quite ready to write about it myself. The mains on the menu are quite meat-heavy; there are a couple of veggie and fish options, but we have never bothered as the starter options are so great. We've found ourselves in a bit of a routine where we order (exactly) six of the starters (each priced at £2-3), which is plenty of food and a lot of variety as well. It's always a bit of a difficult decision which of the choices will make up our six. It always includes cheese sambouseks, batata harra (spicy potatoes with peppers), [ummm, I can't remember the name, but it includes pasta, lentils, fried onions, fried bread, mmmmm]. Sometimes also including spinach fatayer (a sort of squishy filled bready product, ready to be drizzled with lemon juice and mmmmm), hummus, falafel, stuffed vine leaves, baba ghanoush, and an assortment of others. All washed down with a nice glass of mint tea. Did I say mmmmm? And it always comes to less than £20 (we also seem to gobble our food like mad, so we don't spend very long there either. When it comes down to it, the food is quite similar to other eastern Mediterranean locales, and I have to say not evil at all. I can't wait till the next show at Bush Hall or Shepherds Bush Empire brings us back to Abu Zaad (it may be a while. Nothing good on the horizon, I'm not interested in seeing, say, Jethro Tull [and besides, they aren't playing until March]).




1 We saw South San Gabriel (band site), a fantastic band I'd never seen live before (although I have heard some recordings of their live material. I felt compelled to attend and buy merchandise not only because I liked what I heard, but because they are one of those groups who don't seem to mind people recording their shows and sharing them online for free). On this tour they were performing the songs from their new CD "The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until The Operation’s Through". Perhaps a rock opera, definitely a concept album as it is the story of a cat, told from the cat's perspective (I will ruin the ending by telling you all "the cat survives"). Once they finished with the cat business (apparently this was the last show on the "cat tour" of Europe) they did play some other songs not of a feline persuasion. I am rubbish at writing about music but I will say this: the sound was very layered: multiple guitars (acoustic, electric, pedal steel), keyboards and a few effects. What I could catch of the lyrics... very interesting and seemed to be on the intelligent side (I should note that I have a lot of trouble hearing and/or paying attention to lyrics in general). All in all a really good show. A friend of ours who also goes to lots of gigs (her personal site) called it her gig of the year. As far as I am concerned, it didn't quite top Sufjan Stevens, Curtis Eller, Swearing At Motorists, but it was definitely in the top ten (gosh, I haven't even mentioned M Ward, Broken Family Band, Drive By Truckers, Rufus Wainwright, Danny Barnes, or the Rosinators. Fortunately I haven't had to actually decide upon a top ten).

2An excellent venue indeed. According to the venue's website (info here) it was built "in 1904, [when] a publisher called William C. Hurndall presented a gift in the form of a dance hall to each of his three daughters: Lillian, Eugenie and Olive." It's quite an ornate room (and has served previously as a bingo hall and snooker parlor); general consensus around our table was that it would make a great location for a bingo/disco party. Here is what it takes to hire the place for your own special occasion.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005 2:34:27 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 

Sorry about the outage... my blog lives on a machine that wasn't cooperating very nicely. But it's been coerced into behaving, at least for the moment. I have a small backlog of entries which I'll be posting in the next day or two.  They will be backdated to reflect when they were actually written, so please scroll down to see them (unless you're using an aggregator).
Tuesday, November 15, 2005 1:31:14 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Friday, November 11, 2005

It's been a very busy week; I'm in the midst of preparing an extensive application to obtain ethical approval for several years' future experiments in language processing and cognitive neuroscience. I don't write much at all about specific things I'm doing at work, mainly because my work-related writing is channeled toward more practical ends like publications, applications and a minor project known colloquially as a Ph.D. thesis.

But when it comes to messing around with people's brains, how could I not write about it? I'm talking, of course, about Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). TMS is a way of directly affecting the brain by using directed magnetic devices on the surface of the head, in order to induce electrical currents in fairly precisely-identified areas of the brain (at least on areas near the surface). The main concern is safety: the International Federation of Clinical Neurophysiology reports safety considerations (most importantly, avoiding TMS if you have metal in your head, sensitive implanted electronic devices, epilepsy, heart disease, etc.). Anyway, TMS has generally been used for two main purposes. First, as a treatment for depression (see this psycom.net link for more details), essentially as a safer, less invasive and generally nicer version of electroconvulsive therapy. I know little about this research, but there is a lot of interest in this application, although to date the US FDA has not approved TMS devices for use in therapeutic settings (some have been approved by similar bodies in Canada and Israel).

The area I'm involved in, instead, focuses on trying to gain a better understanding of brain function by assessing the effects of TMS upon a specific part of the brain. The logic here is fairly simple: if a particular part of the brain is involved in processing information of a certain kind, TMS to that area will affect tasks that involve that kind of information. For example (a fake example using entirely invented areas and ideas, but which is very much an analog to the real studies we are considering), suppose that we are testing a hypothesis that the Ultramarine area of the brain is responsible for performing mathematical operations of addition and subtraction. A TMS experiment might then test participants' ability to add and subtract under different stimulation conditions: No stimulation at all (to get an idea of each participant's different abilities), stimulation to the Ultramarine area, and stimulation to the Periwinkle area (which is not believed to be involved in adding and subtracting). If the Ultramarine area is indeed involved in adding and subtracting, we would expect to see differences when comparing performance between the Ultramarine and Periwinkle stimulation conditions. Such differences are not enough to allow conclusions that indeed, the Ultramarine area is involved in addition and subtraction (for example, it could be involved in all mathematical operations, or in combinatorial processes of all sorts, or in visual recognition processes, or "cognition", or numerous other things the brain can do). In order to make conclusions like that, it's also necessary to conduct similar experiments using different tasks (for example, multiplication and division, for which differences would not be observed if the Ultramarine area is only doing addition and subtraction). This is especially important (and difficult) since many areas of the brain seem to subserve multiple functions, and it's extremely hard to isolate specific functions. Think of everything that is involved in doing a simple addition problem like 2+2. Seeing the image of "2+2", distinguishing the individual numbers and symbols as distinct entities, identifying the referent of each (i.e. "+" means to add), retrieving or calculating the answer (however that is done!), and all the steps involved in producing the answer (let me assure you, there are many). In short, it's a hard problem that requires many, many steps.

Yesterday for the first time, I participated in a TMS experiment. Unfortunately, it didn't go so well, despite all my knowledge about the relative safety of TMS, and also my knowledge that the particular area being stimulated (visual area V1) is not typically a painful or unpleasant site (other sites can have uncomfortable consequences, such as an icky twitch of the facial muscles each time a magnetic pulse occurs). I blame it on the fact that I am a delicate flower of a man. It was a rather strange sensation, somewhat like someone tapping on the back of my head. But I managed to work myself into a sort of state (quite similar to my reaction to blood tests or other medical situations): by about trial number 10 (of 150+) I was shaking, sweating profusely, light-headed and nauseated, and I had to call a stop to it. I'm afraid I'll have to wear my tinfoil hat into the TMS lab in the future.
Friday, November 11, 2005 1:33:13 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Last Friday the Dunces (and a special guest) had the opportunity to enjoy various pleasures of Eritrea at north London's Zigni House restaurant (Time Out review here, and my own glowing review from a previous visit is here1). The invitation described it as "...a cultural event, capturing the essence of Eritrean food, drink and cultural traditions in hopes of adding to the already rich and diverse community of Islington Borough." With that sort of description, how could we say no? My brother-in-law The Noblesvillain was in town for the evening at the end of a tour promoting international peace and harmony (or at least high-tech solutions for all aspects of biomedical testing), so he got to come as well.

We got to the restaurant and took our seats, and hung around chatting for a while as the place filled up. All the while people were circulating with home-made Eritrean drinks. A couple different kinds of home-made beer (one of which is "suwa", made from roasted grain), both of which were tasty, quite reminiscent of cider (more so than beer), a honey wine ("mies"), not exactly my preferred flavor but quite well regarded by Mrs. Dunce, and some sort of thick fruit drink tasting of pumpkin or squash, and perhaps celery? It was a strange flavor and we were a little concerned about the Noblevillain, given his history with unfamiliar fruits (a terrible allergic reaction to lychees when he came over for our wedding). Fortunately he was spared on this occasion.

Following a very lengthy settling-in period (and some running around by restaurant staff trying to get a PA system working), the distinguished guests arrived, including the mayor and mayoress of Islington, the Eritrean ambassador, and various religious and media dignitaries. After a couple of speeches by the proprietors, the events began. It started with some sort of food demonstration in the front of the restaurant (ingredients, preparation methods, etc.), for which the guests were divided into three groups. First, the dignitaries got to see the food demonstration while the rest of the guests continued to chat, sip drinks and so on. Then the dignitaries went to a downstairs area for a cooking demonstration and a musical performance (some sort of Eritrean lounge band, as best as I can describe it), while the second group went to the food demonstration. The third group (our group), hung around and waited for a while. And then a while longer. It was not exactly organized and I was beginning to panic a little bit about getting to eat something.

Fortunately all was not lost, as we were entertained by a couple doing some traditional Eritrean dances. Many of the dances seemed to focus upon abrupt head, neck and upper body movements which made the dancers' beaded necklaces jump around (the movements reminded me a lot of popping and locking). After each dance, a quick costume change and another dance. Here's a picture of the dancers: you can just see the male dancer in the background, wearing a very pimp-like costume. This particular dance was especially suggestive with lots of pelvic thrusting and "attempted groping" (and the Mayor's face showed a suitable level of disapproval, if only for a few moments).


When the dancers finished, it was finally our turn to get up from our seats, although the food demonstration had seemingly finished by then. But never mind the demonstration as a buffet full of real food was in place, so we filled up our plates and began to gorge ourselves. As in our previous visit to Zigni House, the food was fantastic (and somehow I managed not to eat myself into a state of foundering or illness). I won't go into specifics about the food as it's quite the same story as before (link). As we finished, the dignitaries came upstairs for their food, so we took the opportunity to see what was going on down there for ourselves. At first, not much (the band was taking a break), but eventually they took the stage again (electronic keyboard with drum machine, electric krar [a sort of lyre], and electric bass) and played a few electric/lounge versions of classic Eritrean songs (hard to say much about this as none of us had the linguistic background to understand the lyrics). The Eritrean cooking continued, and occasionally someone would come around with one dish or another to sample (too bad we had already eaten our fill).

Finally we came back upstairs for another dance performance and a coffee ceremony. Although, due to the large number of guests the coffee ceremony was not so ceremonial. Ordinarily the green coffee beans are washed, then roasted and the aroma wafted under the noses of the awaiting coffee drinkers, only after which are the beans ground and added to boiling water. The coffee is quite strong and is served with a bit of sugar (and popcorn / roasted nuts and grain). Although I didn't know it at the time, proper coffee ceremony behavior is to have a minimum of three cups, complimenting the taste after each (and it is rude to leave beforehand!). Mrs. Dunce and I only had one (the first round is called "awol"), and the Noblesvillain was marginally less rude, having a second ("kale eyti"). None of us had a third ("bereka") and definitely not a fourth ("derdja"). I think our (ignorant) rudeness was not noted, however, as the coffee was being served to so many people at once. Besides, so much strong coffee so late in the evening? It would have been a jittery, insomniac disaster.

Noblesvillain (left) and Dunce, ready for coffee:


The event definitely had the intended impact on us. We're definitely going back, sooner rather than later, and are doing all we can to encourage other people to visit Zigni House as well. Mmmmmmmmmm!

1 My previous review of the restaurant appears to be the reason we were invited in the first place. Not many reviews of Zigni House appear online, and mine was especially enthusiastic. Plus the (email) invitation matched up with a visitor who had made his/her way to my blog via Google a few minutes beforehand. Although I'm not looking for payola, I sure don't mind this kind of benefit of blogging. Don't worry, you won't see a sudden boom in restaurant reviews as I don't plan to start trolling for free food and drink.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005 12:20:13 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Friday, November 04, 2005

I've been writing about the demise of the traditional London Routemaster buses quite a bit (e.g. this post), and recently one more route bit the dust. The #38 has now been converted from the iconic double-decker Routemasters to the mammoth and much-reviled single-decker bendy buses, leaving only one route served by Routemasters. And even that route (#159 between Marble Arch and Streatham) will be converted to "modern buses" after 9 December. According to routemaster.org.uk a handful of Routemasters will run on "heritage routes" (five RMs each on Trafalgar Square to Tower Hill and Royal Albert Hall to Aldwych routes, running only during daytime hours).

The Diamond Geezer has done a stellar job at reporting the end of the era on the #38 route: walking the route on the penultimate day of the Routemasters and creating a pictorial tribute (The 38 Stops). And then a report on the first day of the new bendy buses (also including links to many others' tributes to the 38).

I've been keeping track of the various travel options available to the dedicated Routemaster rider by updating the London bus map to include only "travel by Routemaster" options. Here is the first post, with a Routemaster map just after the demise of the 19, and here is the updated map after the 14 and 22 were killed.

I now present for your approval the last in the series (expires 9 December 2005). The heritage routes don't count, it's probably better to pay your respects in the London Transport Museum. When it reopens in 2007, that is.

London by Routemaster
Larger image
(Please click on the image for a much larger version, perhaps suitable for framing).
Friday, November 04, 2005 11:05:59 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Thursday, November 03, 2005

When we first moved to our new neighborhood we were quite pleased to be in close proximity to the Oakdale Arms, which we quickly settled upon as our local. I've previously been quite pleased at their online presence, particularly the ability to check an up-to-date list of the beers they have in stock (see my eager post here). And how can I complain about their beer festival practically on our doorstep? (Well I suppose I could have complained about the Umbel Magna which smelled like urine and tasted like tincture according to Mrs. Dunce, but it was her drink and not mine.) But crisis arrived in the form of a planning application, under which the pub would be demolished. The committee report after the first meeting sounded quite grim (casually dismissing most of the reasons given by people opposing the plans), but there was some hope as the decision was deferred pending a visit by the committee. I guess that visit happened, and something must have gone well because now I see a user comment on beerintheevening which reads as follows:

C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S ! ! !

The planning application for the Oakdale's demolition appears to have been defeated on 31/10/2005 - await formal confirmation. If this is confirmed, this is the great news we have all been waiting for.

If this is true, this is excellent news indeed. And what better way to celebrate it than the next Oakdale Beer Festival (15-22 Nov, about 40 different beers, plus cider and perry). We'll have to fit in a visit before we jet off for our Thanksgiving holiday.

ADDED:
According to the planning permission site, permission has indeed been refused. But the listed reasons for refusal do not include anything to do with the pub itself, but seem to have more to do with the imposing nature of the proposed building. So it may be only a reprieve while the owners revise their plans. Anyway, I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Thursday, November 03, 2005 11:38:23 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   | 
 Tuesday, November 01, 2005

And now it's time for another gig report, even though I have quite a lot of trouble writing about music in any sort of way that actually reflects my experience of it. Last night we went to see Sufjan Stevens performing an "acoustic show with strings and horns". Plenty has been written elsewhere about Sufjan (thanks especially to largeheartedboy whose excellent detective work has turned up loads of Sufjan articles, reviews and downloads (follow this link to a google search of sufjan in largeheartedboy), or check out some of his rave reviews on Pitchfork) so I'll stick to descriptions of the shows.

The first time we saw him was a couple of weeks ago, at a sold-out show at the Shepherds Bush Empire (all seated, capacity of 1278). That show featured heavily from his hotly-tipped latest album "(Come on feel the) Illinoise" and was heavy on midwestern kitsch. He and the band (the Illinoisemakers) were dressed in cheerleader costumes (University of Illinois colors but not logos), and many of the songs were introduced by cheers which served not only to provide aforementioned midwestern kitsch but also to explain some of the details to an audience who may not have been familiar with, say, Casimir Pulaski Day, or the amenities of Decatur. It was a fantastic show in my opinion, although I overheard a couple of hipsters grumbling about the squeaky-clean midwestern uncoolness (happy clappy cheerleader performances are difficult to accommodate within a framework of studied cynicism) and the no-smoking policy (signs around the venue read "This show is NO SMOKING at the artist's request". Good on him). So I was extremely happy to read a brief posting on the Londonist announcing that Sufjan would be playing another show, this time an acoustic gig at the Kings College London students' union (capacity, a few hundred sweaty people).

We scrambled to get our tickets, wondering what an "acoustic" gig might be like. After all, the show at the Empire was quite acoustic (excluding amplification equipment); the only "non-acoustic" instrument I can think of was an electric guitar or two ("acoustic" instruments including piano, banjo, acoustic guitar, xylophone (or one of its close cousins), trumpet, trombone, drums and various percussion instruments. And cheerleaders which fall into "acoustic"). Well, as it turned out all of the above instruments featured, plus a string quartet. No cheerleader costumes, however. But as the show was on Halloween, all of the performers wore masks. Well, they wore their masks onto the stage, and quickly decided that impaired vision wasn't the best option. So it was a stage full of unmasked masked performers, all with masks on the tops of their heads. The acoustic nature of the show came, as it turns out, in the material. Nearly all of the songs came from his 2004 album Seven Swans, with reworked arrangements (including the string quartet). The first half of the show featured Sufjan on guitar (and included Mrs. Dunce's favorite song from "Illinois", "John Wayne Gacy Jr." [follow this NPR link to hear it for yourself]), for the second half he switched over to the banjo. The audience was impressively quiet, although Mrs. Dunce suffered from an undesirable invasion of personal space (by someone much taller who crowded in front of her then spent the whole show leaning back over her [despite her various escape attempts]). Again, an excellent show, but completely unlike the previous one.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005 2:00:30 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)  #    Disclaimer  |   |