Play with the city - brighton

It began with ‘welcome to Mali.’

Apparently Marium’s appearance was in doubt last night and the gig was at one stage looking likely to be cancelled after she’d contracted a throat infection.

Amazing then that her ethereal delivery of ‘Sabali’ was pitch perfect, even if the concordeII sadly supplied a couple of bad reverb screeches during the rendition.
At the tracks end Marium simply said ‘bye, bye,’ instead of her usual crowd rousing ‘yeah’ and exited the stage.

It was left to Amadou to kick off the next few songs with his usual ‘let’s go’ or ‘on e’ va’ [I’m rubbish at French] and on went the show. The night attracted a strangely passive crowd at first, more mid-fifties than i expected, people with an ear bent to the ‘world music’ scene who had arrived early to sit on the perimeter bar.

The throng, front and middle, jigged throughout, and when hand drummer Pape took the spotlight in ‘c’est ne pas bon’, he lifted the beat to pulsating, impossibly touching his nose between each quickening strike of the drum.

It was head-touching next when Marium reappeared on stage, she took her mark next to Amadou by feeling the top of his head as he sang, a touch of intimacy that suited the subdued mood of ‘I follow you’ - the English love song that built in to a sweet-treacle-like crescendo of sound. Following that was always going to be tough, but even the most staunch of standing-only patrons were shifting their feet and sliding their shoulders to the ultra-funk of ‘Batoma.’ A song made even more outstanding by the Barry sisters who combined spinning around in a frenzy, with a bodacious and mesmerizing air guitar. This was basic world-vibe rhythm and people were feeling it.

All in all, an unmissable and uplifting treat from sunnier shores.

So anyway I was parked up in the city… and suddenly all the nearby buildings began to move like huge robots, with windows for eyes and garage doors for mouths… and this metal stairwell arm unhinges itself and slaps me in the rear bumper, hurling me forward like a bowling ball…

Only kidding.

Though if the buildings in Brighton did come to life and start playing with the Qashqai [ala TV ad] then they’d most likely resemble giant icing-sugared cakes and the Nissan would be dodging a bun fight. It’s a place where regency period crescents and white seafront facades seem as if they’re melting in the sun. Adelaide Crescent looks like wedding cake to me, and the town houses of Hove look like giant sponges with painted cream fillings. The pier itself, with it’s multi-colours, looks totally like candy and then there’s the city’s centrepiece – the Pavilion. Obviously made of marzipan, it would be at home in a scene from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, complete with encrusted sweets bejewelling it’s sugared domes, lollipop towers and ornate iced cornices.

So, if that hasn’t got me a job writing the next TV ad, let’s at least continue the edible theme…

I thought I’d feature a few of the best pudding places in Brighton. And that’s no euphemism, I’m talking desserts here. Dining out all the time can get expensive, but limit yourself to a few choice desserts and you can go out without going all out, if you know what I mean. So, in no favourable order…

La Forchette. 42 Church Road, Hove. French cafe with a great selection of pastries and quiches, pretty good coffee too, but it’s the little cakes that really overtake the biscuit. Try the tiny little dark chocolate ones, they’ll send your caffeine levels through the roof but are useful for staying awake whilst walking around Hove.

Doughnuts on the Pier. Little deep fried buggers rolled in sugar, best eaten when hot, ideal after a long bike ride when it’s necessary to celebrate your miraculous return home. Its surrounding environs include arcade games.

Scoop and Crumb. 5/6 East Street. Is it sublime homemade ice cream time in your head? If so, you’ll like being in this place, it’s like being 10 years old and going to a Swedish girls birthday party. You half expect naked parents to be wandering around. Ok so I’ve gone too far there, but sod it, just look at some of the happy people pictured here, jacked up on a sugar rush. Why exactly is it called an ice cream headache anyway?

Marrocco’s. 8 Kings Esplanade. Hove Sea front. More homemade ice creamery here, http://www.marroccos-restaurant.co.uk - worth linking to because of the classic photos. Every Brightonian knows this place, it’s an ideal end of the walk venue for most sundae dreaming Sunday strollers. It’s also an easy bribe to get kids to behave I imagine. A proud family orientated Italian café, rightly loved by all.

The Coach House, 24 High Street. Here’s a place you can turn up to after 9pm and not get a huffy response when you ask only for the sweets menu. It’s situated near the Hop poles [my favourite Pub] and the waitress staff lovely. The steaks on the main menu are spot on too. It’s got an inside/outside bar area, perfect in the summer, good dessert wines to boot.

The Mock Turtle Tea Shop, 4 Pool Valley. You head back in time with this one. In a word- quaint. In three words, quaint and scary. The flowery wallpaper seems to close in on you as you grapple with tea strainers and vintage china sets lucky to survive the war. Doilies and crocheted cloths cover hand-varnished tables and cakes stack up in the window on those silver triple-tiered cake stands. When I was there, ‘JR Hartley’ from the old Yellow pages TV ad was actually sitting in the corner testing his dentures on Rock cake and cinnamon toast.

It seems too ironic to me that this New Year my phone decided not to work properly. One button didn’t work. That button was the ‘WXYZ’ button in the bottom corner, which pretty much screwed me when trying to text ‘NEW’, ‘YEAR,’ ‘WISHES’ ‘YOUR,’ ‘FAMILY’ and adding a few kisses. Since the same defect button is also the ‘9’ I couldn’t even default to ‘have a great 09!’ Even my girlfriend’s name has ‘Z’ in it. Sod texts. Simply conveying best wishes to friends became an exhausting test of mental and finger endurance, just when you want to be having fun.

As I tried to enjoy my night in the Duke Of Norfolk [113-114 Western Road], my pasting became more frenetic and fraught with the danger of mixing up friends’ names. The whole thing soon became an irritating challenge I couldn’t snap out of. Instead of simply copying and pasting from other people’s messages – this was suggested to me in hindsight, I juggled a drink and a phone and fired off crap phrases such as ‘top tidings to you at this time’ and ‘av a beaut oh nine.’

Needless to say the night rubbed me up the wrong way from the start and wasn’t really helped by the doo in a pub I usually love. The Duke of Norfolk is great because of its proximity not just to Bankers chippy, but also many international language schools. Hence it often feels really optimistic and full of people who are keen to socialise. Ensuing travel stories combine with a generous 6pm-10pm happy hour -Sunday to Thursday, to create memorable nights. They also encourage board games, have free Wi-Fi access [which incidentally covers the entire block], have amply stocked bookshelves and feature the odd, low-key live music gig. It’s a gem of a place.

It wasn’t happening in there on New Years though, so we changed the scene. We drove up the steep road to Ditchling Beacon [rising from 90 metres to 248 metres in just under a mile] and shortly before midnight I parked up. With my passengers clutching small, smoking bottles of bubbly we watched the fireworks fizz and pop over the fair seaside city.

There’s cycling along the sea front and then there’s cycling across the sea. The sand crabs won’t know what hit them. Described as a fun cycle dash over the exposed sand flats during one of the lowest tides of the year. The ride goes from Brighton Marina to the King Alfred Centre in Hove and beyond (note different details to recent rides!), or as far as you and your bike can make it. The organisers suggest you borrow a bike ‘from a skip’ to do this, which is a sensible disclaimer because salt and and spokes don’t mix. But hey, it’ll be fun.

The ride will set off 15-30 minutes after meeting, so as to catch the lowest tide (6:45pm, 0.4m) and the sunset (5:09pm). Following August 2007’s Low Tide Naked Critical Mash-Up bike ride, the event is clothing-optional.

With the inevitable ‘time and tide wait for no-one’ warning the organisers expect riders to be good time keepers. Skinny-dipping in the sea at the end of the ride is optional. Bring bikes, waterproofs, warm clothes and a set of lights.

Note: This is an evening ride, starting from Brighton Marina!

http://www.flickr.com/groups/lowtidebikeride/

Obscure multi-dimensional creatures form strangely twisted tales in the heads of the Quay Brothers and they faithfully recreate their imaginings by constructing landscapes and fractured puppets in order to explore the depth of matter itself. I was pleased with that sentence in my notes after seeing the exhibition because their work inspiring but hard to pin down.

The University of Brighton Gallery houses their intricacies, but it’s only on show until the 20th December, so hurry [or, if you miss it and are interested check out http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=uWtaGI9zuIY] At the exhibition, you’ll see a mixture of scenes and maquettes taken from their fantastic films and then displayed alongside them.

If like me, you memory is filled with tv advertising from childhood then you’ll already know their commercial work. The Skips ‘frizzly on my tongue’ ad is burnt into my psyche along with the pneumonic ‘mmmmm melt city.’ Enjoy.

Ok lets begin with the sea. Let’s leave the party shots aside for now. Sure, you’ve had a bit of a Nick Cave write up. But the Sea is where it’s at and that’s not the name of a washed-up bar. Although it seems many beverage swilling pads here have named themselves after the seaside, some of which I’ll no doubt be visiting during this blogfest; the Reef Bar, the Blue Lagoon bar, the Star and Sailor, the Squid and Starfish, the Water Margin, the Venus Bar, the list goes on…

Anyway, the sea - an incredibly poetic timeless thing that exists along one side of the city. Just to be able to look out upon it and not see buildings is a mighty fine thing.

In fact it’s a pleasure, which is exactly why Brighton came about in the first place – a home to high society pleasures. That and the old adage that the sea air makes you feel better, though I reckon if you lived in 18^th century England and knew someone with Consumption or the Bloody Flux you’d tell them to head for the sea just to get rid of them.

There’s something sad about the sea too. Whenever I see someone staring out at it I always assume they have many worries and are surely contemplating huge things like why are we here?

Maybe that’s why Brighton feels creative, the sea inspires thought and sucks in thinkers. And Brighton likes to think a little different, someone once said to me that Brightonians would be quite happy if the city floated off and formed it’s own country, quite true, but then a lot of people would be broke because London bank rolls most of it [more of this to come].

To sum this intro up, have a listen to ‘the Ocularist’ by the Bees, not my favourite band, but a song that sums up the Brighton commuters mood, ‘It’s good to get back to the sea.’

Supported by a band ‘that sound like death itself’ Nick Cave took to the stage at the Brighton Centre last night and poured out his soul like an evangelist on speed. Perhaps overcome, a guy near me turned white and was sick on the floor, a couple quickly took up the space and stood in it to get a better view – it was that kind of gig. Brighton’s chosen son was rumoured to have walked back from the venue to his flat in Hove. When he sang ‘Midnight Man’ – everybody back to my place, everybody was up for it.