Have spent the last couple of evenings seeing how the postwar generation celebrate their sixtieth birthdays. First off was Diz Watson partying at the Oval Tavern on Tuesday night and transporting a great supportive crowd to pre-Katrina New Orleans with his vocals and piano, brilliantly supported by double bass and percussion. Later Jamie Rowan did a guest spot and I remembered to book him for my next Inn On The Green gig, as Al Vincent is unavailable next month.
Wednesday night was Tom Nolan’s party at The Eel Pie Club in Twickenham. Again a big crowd of the faithful joined in the celebrations. We were treated to plenty of Rolling Stones songs by members of The Strolling Bones, Tom’s tribute band. Mind, I’m not a great fan of tribute bands, as they get paid too much and obviously play to people trying to relive their lost youth. Anyway, I thought the Stones were still alive and gigging. Who needs a tribute band? However, that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy all those lady dancers who’d never lost the boogie disease.
Some of the Downliner’s Sect did a spot, as did Paul Cox and even I managed to get on for one number. I think that’s when the dancing stopped. Ah well! I am a bit older than these swingers.
Pete Miles was at both evenings and we did debate whether the older crowd had been there in the sixties and were actually trying to re-live it, but we coudn’t decide whether it was because they remembered it and felt guilty, or didn’t remember it and tried to feel something. As for the younger crowd, I don’t understand them either, but I am still trying. Isn’t the learning process wonderful?
Tonight I’m off to Park Royal for the Grand Junction Arms gig, which may be the last blues gig there. Nothing to do with me, Guv! Apparently the brewery are cutting back on music. At least they call it music. Isn’t that polite?