From early in the day wandering Brixton Market on through the touch and go through the winnowing of the mission at hand, nothing to do once the energy was spent but to return to base, or such as it is, the hotel. Moments later reserves in effect it’s out in the streets of London to meet up with the well-spoken Jonny Summersault and just passing thru from Sierra Leone,
Diamond Wade. Pints and a plan are hatched for Soul Food but the cooks say no so off for curry we go. From there quickly it’s down the hatch of St. Moritz for
Gaz’ night of happy. DJ’s twirlin’ cool Northern soul and ol’time swing n’ roll. Eight deep at the bar but without a word, each of us parting his own sea with the silent efficiency of men well versed in navigating such subterranean environs and winding up at the shout simultaneously. A laugh and another pint to the dance floor with a head nod fingersnap as the selectors finish off their end of the night’s business with style. Gaz floats through, birds and a kamikaze fedora, full style up to the stage to bring on
Girls On Top. From the back to the front improved the sound quality entirely and it was on. Not on in any sense of the old school pit of love this blues soul punk rockin’ bunch of girls and boys should have instigated. But on. Dancing crowd of kids and older farts, prep school suits mixing with tradesmen’s blues. The band kicking it into gear with harmonica blasts and cowbell-clanking throwbacks that honey you could dance to. Skank and bop till nothing’s left but laughter. Set complete, it’s another crowdninja move to the bar. Our Wade finds himself in with the band, who is holding court apparently for us. Kudos to the Girls, ‘cause they’ve been kicking around twelve years, current lineup eight and no sign of stopping. You can’t go wrong with punk rock that’s got rhythm, 'cause then it’s got soul. Conversation veering from Paris to New York with jaunts to Africa passed another pint. Suddenly it was very late. The action in the street would have you guessing it was half ten, a glance at the timepiece revealing half three. We leg it, parting ways into our sorted parts of the world. Muster for the following day all the wiser from the experience. Onward.
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