Gig slut

I was going to go to a gig last night.  In fact, I was hoping I might be able to squeeze in two gigs.  Maybe even three.   And, as the plan started to go awry, and gigs started to be eliminated from that programme, I began to think about the possibility of trying for 4, 5, 6.... Checking out every music bar in the neighbourhood.   The original plan had been to check out the Joyside gig at MAO Live House.  I haven't been to a rock gig in quite a while, and Joyside are a pretty decent band - although nothing so very remarkable, in my limited experience of them (they have a little laowai fan club who represent them as the best thing since sliced bread, which is always a little baffling: are they talking about the same band?).  And this was billed as being their last-ever performance.  I'm not sure if I believe that.  They may not have overworked the "comeback" ploy quite as often as 'Ol Blue Eyes, but there have been so many rumours of breakups, and actual breakups, over the years that cynical observers are predicting a speedy reunion.  In fact, the very cynical suggest that the whole 'farewell gig' thing was nothing but a marketing ploy, since they haven't played much this past year or so and needed some kind of special hook to stir up interest in this show.   If that was the case, it worked.  This was the first-ever MAO show I've turned up to that was purportedly SOLD OUT.  (The security was so leaky that I probably could have found a way to sneak in, but.... well, without the Chinese skills to provide a supporting blag if challenged, it might have been awkward.  I didn't just want to play the surly foreigner and rely on size, determination, and an inability to understand the language to carry me through.  Crashing stuff is supposed to be a test of guile rather than bloody-mindedness; charming, persuading, or duping - but not just throwing your weight around.  I think not all of the excluded punters last night - Chinese or foreign - were feeling so ethically constrained.)  I was not desperately disappointed.  As I said, they're not that wonderful a band.  And MAO, when it gets that crowded, is unpleasantly sweaty.  So..... next!   Well, my old friends the No-Name Trio were playing in a new bar over near the Lama Temple a little later, so I thought I'd go and check that out.  I was not enamoured of the venue, however - an undistinguished bistro type of place, designed to appeal to Chinese yuppies - and although the mellow French jazz was as delightful as always (and benefitting from an unusually good sound system), I thought I'd move on after a few songs.   I had been planning to hook up with The Weeble to check out Scots band Skerryvore at Ginkgo, but.... well, he was vacillating.  And the band were absent.  Since I'd already got a fair flavour of their music the night before, and had also suffered their vexing disinclination to start playing promptly, or at all, I didn't feel disposed to wait around to see when/if they would finally turn up and start doing their thing.   It was at this point that the notion of attempting to check out every single gig in the neighbourhood briefly took hold.  I really fancied dropping in on Jianghu and East Shore Jazz to see what was going down there, but.... well, it was already nearly 11pm by this point, and those two places did represent a sizeable detour.  The Weeble had heard a rumour that there was a "Buddhist rock" act at Jianghu - which sounded interesting, rather than good.  Anyway, the much more accessible - well, much more on my way home - Jiangjinjiu was supposedly playing host to an American folk/blues outfit called The Redbucks, who I was eager to see.  However, the one thing you can rely on with 3J is that the programme is never as advertised, and in fact there was a Mongolian solo folkster on - throat-singing, traditional robe, acoustic guitar, the usual stuff; no idea what his name was, but he was pretty good.     Hmmm, so the great evening of gig-going peripatetics ended up being barely an hour of music at only two venues.  Well, that's how it goes sometimes (most of the time, in Beijing): "plans" can seldom be more than a guideline.   I got me plenty of exercise, at least.   I am now vaguely regretful that I didn't check out the "Buddhist rock"....