Last night I attended a "Science in the Pub" event at the Republic Bar and Cafe. It may be difficult to believe but occasionally I put aside going to the pub for more intellectual pursuits. Being able to do both at the same time is really the height of sophistication, I reckon, human progress at its best. This was the first time I had attended on of these events and it was excellent. I got to hear three eminently qualified speakers talk about teaching, science and maths teaching in particular. Inspirational. I heartily recommend attending if you get the opportunity.
Science in the Pub Website
Never to let an opportunity to enhance my "patron of the arts" status go by, after the event I headed downstairs to catch some live music. Pete Hawkes (Vic) and Shane Lestideau (NSW) were due to perform. A quality night of stringed music with a scottish baroque influence was on the cards. It had the potential to be a real winner.
The scheduled starting time came and went. Not unusual - it is one of my pet hates, musicians not starting at the advertised time so I will drink more at the bar. As if I need any help with that one. I started to become concerned when only one microphone was set up - maybe more an acoustic work? The death knell was the appearance of a middle-aged snoozer in jeans, suit jacket and a pink Floyd T-Shirt. I couldn't see his feet but there was every chance that he was a sneans (sneakers and jeans) guy. This dubious apparel choice is universally a bad sign. He started a basic sound check, it was not looking promising for my night of stringed elegance.
Now, when someone announces to the audience that they only got the call up to play 20 minutes ago you should probably give up on a musically enriching evening right there and then. It may mean a pleasant journey to an unexpected land of musical bliss but mostly not. He started with a well known and popular tune and he was OK. Decent singing and passable guitar playing (only the occasional wrong chord) and if I was there on a Saturday night with a bunch of friends then it would have been more than passable background entertainment as we discussed important things like which apples make the best cider, the demise of the apostrophe or why no-one ever says 'Reykjavik' in a song*. This not being the case, I decided to head across the road to The Homestead where Diamond Duck (NSW) were playing.
Is there such a thing as "concert leaving" etiquette? There were only about 15 people in the room so how does one slip out without being rude. He had made the effort to leave his home were he was presumably enjoying a good night enjoying a overprice boutique beer and watching 'Alaska-The Last Frontier' on the box with his labradoodle. In the end I opted for hanging around for half a dozen songs to show my appreciation of his efforts and then ducked out the back way whilst pretending to go to the loo. Just to complete the rouse I left half a pint of my beloved Willie Smith cider on the table to give the illusion that I would return. Well done I thought.
I walked into The Homestead to the sound of some fine guitar playing and some exquisite harmonised yodelling. Ah, this is what I was after for evening entertainment. I grabbed a drink from the wonderfully friendly girl behind the bar and found a dark corner to settle back and appreciate the act. Now yodelling is not everyone's cup of tea but this was fantastic. Funny and beautiful all at once. I couldn't wait to hear more. Except I had waited too long to leave the previous venue. I had arrived half way though their final song. An evening killed by live act etiquette.
* Check out my mate Bruce's blog - it's much better than mine; he is funny and can actually write. And he is a much better drinker.
No Holds Bard
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