Minutes of The Tiny Dancing Social Committee Annual Planning Meeting

Present: Mr. Tiny Dancer, Mr. Crisp Debris, Mr. Ricky Stardust, Mr. Casanova Cox

Apologies: None

Location: Mr. Dancer’s Lodgings


Mr. Dancer welcomed all to the meeting, and thanked them for attending. He also congratulated Mr. Stardust and Mr. Debris on their recent co-habitation, commenting on the elegance of the arrangement. Mr. Cox also offered his congratulations. Mr. Stardust and Mr. Debris offered their thanks in return.

Mr. Dancer confirmed that the purpose of the meeting was to agree the first outing of the year of The Tiny Dancing Social Committee, and stated that he hoped a suitable agreement could be made that met the requirements of all concerned. All confirmed that they were hopeful that this could be achieved in a timely fashion.

Mr. Debris asked where more ale could be found, and was directed towards the local emporium. He decided to remain for the moment.

Mr. Cox commenced proceedings by stating his vehement opposition to attending the Glastonbury Festival this year, indicating that after last year’s farce, his patience had been pushed beyond the pale. Mr. Stardust seconded this feeling, Mr. Dancer concurred. Mr. Debris stated that as long as he had breath in his body, he would not sleep in a tent. It was therefore decided that The Committee would not attend the Glastonbury Festival this year.

Mr. Stardust took the opportunity to recount an amusing tale, wherein Mr. Baker (S), an acquaintance of The Committee, relieved himself of his dinner in a stranger’s tent whilst watching Bjork at last years Glastonbury Festival. All found the tale very amusing, and Mr. Cox thanked Mr. Stardust for reminding him of the occasion.

Mr. Debris enquired as to whether there was any wine available. Mr. Dancer stated that there was a bottle of port in the pantry, which was swiftly fetched by Mr. Dancer’s man.

Given Mr. Debris’ strong feeling against the use of a tent as a means of accommodation, Mr. Dancer moved The Committee’s attention to the forthcoming All Tomorrow’s Parties functions, taking place at Butlins Minehead and Pontins Camber Sands.

It was explained to Mr. Debris by Mr. Cox that attendance at said extravaganza would allow him to sleep in a bed in a chalet. Mr. Debris confirmed that he would find this agreeable, as it would allow him to reside in a manner as a gentleman might expect, and not in a fashion that would not even be suitable for swine, at which he consumed a generous glass of port with a decadent flourish.

Mr. Dancer then moved proceedings on to the tricky choice of whether to attend the Minehead or Camber Sands Parties. Much heated debate was held on the aspects of both options, with the pro and contra arguments given equal regard. At one point, Mr. Debris attempted to leave the meeting without prior warning, but was persuaded to stay by Mr. Dancer, with the help of a brass poker.

Following a sustained period of in depth and intellectual deliberation, the balance of opinion was deemed to favour Camber Sands. At this point, Mr. Cox reminded The Committee of the performance of Mr. Baker (T), an acquaintance of The Committee, at the first All Tomorrow’s Parties in 2000, which included accusing Mr. Lamacq of being "two bob" and the excellent achievement of consuming ale through his blouse. Everyone agreed that it was a most commendable performance, and that all hoped that similar feats could be achieved in Mr. Baker (T)’s absence.

Mr. Dancer dispatched his man to the local travel agent, to make the appropriate preliminary arrangements for The Committee’s attendance. A celebratory port was taken by all.

Whilst this business was taken, Mr. Dancer confirmed that he was very much looking forward to taking in the performance of A Place To Bury Strangers whilst at the event, and Mr. Cox agreed that he was very much anticipating their performance, especially given their reputation as New York’s loudest band.



A Place To Bury Strangers – Missing You


Mr. Stardust concurred with Mr. Cox, and added that he was glad that the chance would be presented to renew his acquaintance with Mr. Lekman, of whom he had not had the opportunity to discourse for some time now. Mr. Debris agreed that it would be excellent fortune to take ale with the Swedish troubadour once again, with which he took up the bottle of port, and drained the remaining liquor.



Jens Lekman – A Little Lost


Mr. Cox took the opportunity of Mr. Debris being silenced by intoxication to confirm with The Committee that his anticipation was piqued by the planned encounter with Fuck Buttons, after a recent appraisal of the Bristolian ruffians synthetic noisings and shoutings. Mr. Dancer was in the process of agreeing, when his man returned and confirmed that all had been arranged with his travel agent.



Fuck Buttons – Sweet Love For Planet Earth


The sound of rejoicing roused Mr. Debris from his slumber, from which he emerged with a somewhat disagreeable disposition. This was exasperated by the discovery that there was no more ale or spirit or wine in the vicinity, and in order to placate him, The Committee took the decision to retire to the local hostelry.

Before they departed, Mr. Dancer requested whether there was any more business to be had, and with nothing tabled, it was agreed that the next meeting would be held at the earliest opportunity, with the possibilities of attending The End Of The Road Festival and Bestival still to be explored.

With that, Mr. Debris burst forth from the lodgings whilst spouting extreme vulgarities, and the meeting was closed accordingly.


Tiny Dancer


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It's The End Of The Road - Part The Second

I was going to do a re-cap of the End Of The Road Festival a lot sooner but I seem to have spent the last week and a half with a series of hang-overs that have left me unable to be able to do anything other than cry or watch Heroes dvds. When I’m feeling particularly sprightly I can sometimes manage to cry AND watch Heroes dvds.

Writing this on Wednesday morning having broken the unwritten rule (that needs to be written by someone very quickly) of no Sunday, Monday and Tuesday night drinking in a work week, things don’t seem to have improved much.

In short, I am tired. If Satan had a dog then its eyes would look very much like mine do now. No doubt its mouth would also have a similarly horrifying taste lurking in the depths of it.

Reading the site I see that due to a post by the man-child Debris, thunder had been stolen and wind removed from sails. And thank God, as most of those acts had disappeared into a small tightly sealed box in the back of my mind due to a Saturday day-time on the Pimms and an evening where I consumed a whole bottle of vodka.

On this theme here’s a tip - if you’re ever camping with Debris and he’s gone to bed early, do not turn up at his tent at 3am and see if it’s possible to fit five men in his two-man tent. This is not appreciated and is apparently not as funny as it seems to be at the time.

Now what he neglected to mention was the fact that he bowed out of the festival early on the Sunday (if a man such as Debris can be said to be built for anything, then it is for small suburban towns in South-East London and not for the countryside) and by doing so, missed arguably the two best acts of the weekend.

My main reasons for going to it were to see Jens Lekman and Lambchop, although obviously as soon as the schedule came out I realised they clashed. Now, having endured Glastonbury this year I am more than used to “organisers” (and I use that term very loosely when it comes to the Glastonbury fiasco) ruining my weekend by having all the best people on at the same time. However, at the last minute Lekman decided to switch his set to an hour and half later and the beginning coincided beautifully with the ending of Lambchop. There was even time to send a minion to the bar to bring me more cider. Suddenly everything was coming up Stardust.

Before I go into that evening I want to back up Debris on Willard Grant Conspiracy. They’ve long been a favourite of mine and if you want to know why then here is Work Song.



Willard Grant Conspiracy – Work Song


Lambchop have become a mildly more stripped down proposition of late and have lost the string section. In all honesty it doesn’t really matter; they’re still just one of the most astonishing bands around today. If you don’t know them then the closest thing I can compare them to would be to maybe Nick Cave, but with light and beauty filtering into the dark places. Anyone who doesn’t own Nixon needs to sell hand jobs down at the docks until they’ve scraped together enough pennies to go out and buy it (or just nick it from HMV, I know a way of getting past their security system – email me if you want the secret).

I felt they lost their way a bit with the big double album which I’ve never been properly able to get my head round, but the last album was also fantastic. It takes seeing them play live to remember exactly how unique this band are as they launch into one beautiful song after another with Kurt Wagner’s amazing voice and truly great lyrics. The highlight of the set was the encore where they came back on with Howe Gelb to perform Up With People. How can a lyric like:

We are screwing up our lives today

Sound like the most joyous and life affirming thing ever said by anyone? Prior to this though they had made Howe Gelb read a paragraph from Bez’s autobiography whilst they all sat around laughing their heads off. Hearing that deep Southern accent recounting an anecdote about a Manchester club where the floor was covered in piss and the women stank of piss will go with me to the grave. They then finished with a cover of Leonard Cohen’s Chelsea Hotel #2. Yes, it was good. Here is The Man Who Loved Beer.



Lambchop – The Man Who Loved Beer


By the way, Kurt Wagner is playing a solo show at Union Chapel for which, criminally, there are still tickets. You must go.

Now last up was Swedish troubadour Jens Lekman. At times during his set I described it as Adam Green fronting Belle and Sebastian. At other times, when my mind wandered, I described it as Mike Flowers fronting Belle and Sebastian. But fine lines such as these need to be trodden by someone and 90% of the time the result was perfect pop. If you like pretty girls playing trumpets and saxophones over songs dedicated to hairdressers then this man is for you. Here is his song Black Cab which is on his collection Oh You’re So Silent Jens.



Jens Lekman – Black Cab


I was then kept awake all night by the kids sitting up and playing their electronic music on a "ghetto blaster". I grow old, I grow old…


Ricky Stardust


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