Maybe I'm just not that picky, or experimental, but almost every band I love is the fault of someone else. Friend 2 is responsible for Suede, Scissor Sisters, Patrick Wolf and the Guillemots - that's almost all the albums I've bought in the last few years. My favourite musicians of all time - Genesis and Al Stewart - are, coincidentally, favourites of my dad (PS - discovered that Calypso is an Al Stewart fan. And here I was thinking I was the only one in the world - how weird is that?!) Pretty much the only band I listen to of my own volition is the Beach Boys, and that probably has strong roots in a play I went to see.

In any case, I've been pretty fond of Amanda Palmer since Calypso dragged me kicking and screaming through a heap of Dresden Dolls. She combines two of my interests, that of creepy circus-chic cabaret, and that of awesome piano playing.

Or maybe not. Friend 2 says she was somewhat disappointed with the Guillemots concert we went to because people didn't stand enough. I disagree - it might be my inner prog rocker, but I'm a great advocate of the sitting down concert. I'm lazy, my legs get tired, I like being able to see what's going on. Being crushed behind a group of people with massive hair and spending the evening on tippy-toes isn't my idea of fun. It wasn't the worst thing in the world - Ms Palmer has the most brilliantly emotive voice, so you didn't really need to see her - just listening was a brilliant experience. Reminded me of ancient/Elizabethan theatre, where the idiom was "hear a play" not "see a play" - as the views were so appaling. But as a keyboardist, what I really wanted to do was ogle her hands; and I felt very sorry for the girl standing next to me - she knew all the words to every song, and was trapped behind the largest guy I've ever seen. I was relieved when he moved away, for her sake if nothing else. In fact, the audience annoyed me full stop - a lot were chattering, a lot happily went away for drinks or just drifted away entirely. I do not understand those people. I crossed my legs for the whole 3 hours of Genesis at Twickenham, dammit - who would miss a few minutes for something like another drink? Honestly...

Ignoring this, however, it was brilliantly entertaining - it didn't matter that I only recognised one song for the entire evening. Consequently, I can't give you a setlist - some stuff, more stuff, Coin Operated Boy, a cover of a band I've never heard of, Oasis, stuff with a violinist, a cover of My Favourite Things, slow stuff, I Kissed a Girl (ironic cover with faux Katy Perry) something else. Incidentally, I hate Katy Perry. I think her song is sick and tasteless, and in this day and age should we still be supporting the idea that lesbianism is something cheeky that straight girls can flirt with to turn the audience on? It obviously works, the song is a hit. Yet all this I could forgive it was actually nice to listen to. But oh no, it's vacumm packed and unimaginative to boot.



But the musical talent was second to that of her charm as a performer. For the folks at home, imagine if Starbuck-Galactica had a musical career - same cheeky smile, same carefree attitude, same total-breakdown whenever the shutters go up. She's the only person I've ever seen who can pull off the "I don't care" look without looking neither genuinely scruffy or completely manufactured. I know this is a stardom cliche, but she comes across as so genuine on stage. As such, the highlight of the evening was her justified tirade against pretty much every radio station going because pretty much everyone going had refused to play her new single Oasis. It's a cheery, poppy, Beach Boys inspired song about date rape and abortion - fun to dance to. It strikes me that there have vastly more distastedful songs played in the past -Growing on me, for example, is all about genital warts, and half of R'n'B is mysoginistic crap suggesting the only thing people do with their lives is go to clubs and screw. The latter is much more harmful to people's way of thinking, than Oasis, the point of which a lot of people will miss. Who pays that much attention to the lyrics first time around anyway?

How much worse is it than What would you do? by City High, an upbeat song about a single mum who strips for cash? Or Trains to Brazil, the maddest, happiest song in the world - all about the London train bombings, and that botch-up police shooting? It strikes me if I was ever date raped then had an abortion, or had a friend wiped out in a nasty event, I genuinely hope I'd still be able to bop around joyfully to the latter two songs - because life goes on, and it's wonderful.

Her argument, and she is right, is that it in no way trivialises these things - but just because a thing is sad, it doesn't have to be presented in a faux-serious fashion (read her blog, it's great) If it had been a mopey piano ballad, she said, they would have played it. I thought "hmmm, that might be fun to work out" - and curiously enough, that's exactly what she then did - the lights went low, and she performed it with fake tears and wailing - intercut with snippets from the real song, at which point the crowd went wild. I'm hoping someone will post the piano version on youtube...

Here's the song so you can judge for yourself. I, naturally, think it's brilliant.





I can see why people might not want to play the video - but again, all these gyrating hips and steamy camerawork is equally tasteless. Moreso, perhaps, for being in deadly earnest, whereas this is defiantly tongue-in-cheek. I mean, so many modern songs celebrate the club scene, so what's wrong with someone actually writing about the downsides?

I admit this is a personal thing as well - I know that spending a lot to stay up late in room of loud, awful music isn't my idea of fun. But I hate this country's drinking culture - I find the "let's get drunk then we'll gave fun" mentality truly disgusting, not to mention dangerous. I don't see the appeal in gettting so wasted you don't remember what happened. Surely remembering how much fun you had is part of the experience? I don't mean to be judgemental - if you want to wear skimpy little clothing and jump around with a fuzzy head, be my guest. And I'm sure individually they're lovely, generous people. But as a whole, the idea just makes me angry inside.
Anyway, it was a crazy crazy show. Her backup group, The Danger Ensemble, were apparently operating on charity alone - so there was an auction half way through which raised £300 for their fee, and also baskets at the end. Calypso and Vapila got gorgeous posters - maybe I should have got one too, but I was feeling skint.