On Paloma Faith

Paloma Faith @ the Shepherd's Bush Empire

Last night I went to see Paloma Faith. She was bloody brilliant, and I heartily recommend her gigs - she's quite the entertainer on top of having an amazing voice. Even N enjoyed himself, despite having spent most of yesterday trying to wriggle out of it. Although, he did buy me the tickets, so I'll let him off of his lame attempts to make me go on my own.

For those of you that don't know, Paloma Faith is a British singer. She's been compared to Amy Winehouse, only with less drugs and more likely to perform without being sick down her top. That's not the only difference; her songs are a lot more layered and theatrical, and she has an eccentric style and visual presence that mark her out from the crowd. Some of her songs, particularly the ones she's released as singles, are a bit too pop for my liking, but the mellower, darker ones I think are fantastic. Her covers of songs by Etta James and Billie Holiday last night were unbelievably good... What I also like is that she has such a laugh doing what she does; she looks like she's having a great time, which is important. Watching someone who's really talented but miserable as sin can be quite a chore in my humble opinion, so watching someone who can sing while having a giggle was much fun. She doesn't take herself too seriously, which is quite refreshing to see. Her music shall be gracing the Pod for a while methinks.

The only problem was caused by my laziness. I decided not to put my bag in the cloak room. Once a gig is finished, I have an almost irresistible urge to flee the building as soon as possible. I hate queues for cloakrooms, not least because just by being in said queue you are accepting that the fun has been had, and now it's time for bed. So I kept my things with me, and N capitalised on this by shoving his massive coat in my man bag. [Haha, that sounds a bit like innuendo; it's not. Grow up T.] This meant I couldn't really relax; I spent a lot of time wedging my bag in between my feet, or resting it on my shoes, or moving it to the side, all while holding onto the strap so no-one could steal it. I'm not sure how, but I seem to have pulled a muscle while doing this. I think I must have kept my right leg tensed for the duration of the gig, because this morning I noticed I'd developed a limp and can no longer walk down stairs. Up is fine, but not down (I believe cows also have this problem? Perhaps I'm becoming a cow - watch this space).

Anyway, happy April everyone - I hope we all have a great month, and I'll write again soon unless my fingers turn to hooves.

tbr