200 years of history. And that's just the members. The Athenaeum.

Most weekends, my route into town takes me down dark alleyways and quiet side streets. It doesn’t have to. I have to make a detour to some of them. And, whatever route I take, there’s always a doorway, with a ‘private members’ plaque, or sulphur-lit stairway, descending below street level to a club. But not any club  - one that you have to know about to get into. In my mind, the goings-on behind these members-only meeting places hidden in the city’s half-lit backstreets are like that party in Eyes Wide Shut. Masks, chanting, secret hand signals and flagrant disrobing. Like Primark, but with less polyester. Continue reading →

Sorry Dad, wrong number. Mystery Jets.

Are the Mystery Jets really breaking barriers employing a Dad on guitar? Not really. They don’t take him out on tour. That would be more Victorian Freak Show than NME Shockwaves.

The band’s Will Rees tells it like it is: “He’s still a band member, but he stays at home. He just doesn’t play live with us any more ‘cause I think he’s like 56 or something.  Not  having him on tour has allowed us to do what young bands do – get on the razz. We always have fun on the road, but we’ve just been having a little bit more fun.”

Fair enough. And, let’s face it, he was also, like, almost as old as Tom Watson, that man who, against all the odds, made it to 59 and is still able to hit golf balls more or less in a straight line. Continue reading →

Vodka. It's time for a Revolution (bar).

Vodka. It’s the chicken of the drinks world. Cheap to produce, goes with anything, usually abused. Most of the time, it’s no more than an alcohol transportation system run by Ryanair. Tasteless, ruthless, effective.