doxxing myself but i think glasgow is a great city. i personally just don't want to be here
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anyway it's my 30th next year, and while I've not decided what kind of Event I'm having, I do know the theme will be 2018 Met Gala Heavenly Bodies theme
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Last A Haunting at Nice 'N’ Sleazy next Tuesday 5th May before we break for Summer, 11PM - 3AM FREE ENTRY.
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My main beef with my appearance is that if I don't dye my hair, and just let it be the natural sand grey, I look like my mother. But if I dye it black, I'll look like my father. And if I shave my hair off, I look like I've had, at least once at some point in my life, had my facial features re-arranged with the blunt end of a pint glass in a Glasgow night club.
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So much news! THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS TOUR THE MIDWEST!
John F. here. First off, we are going back on the road in the Midwest this May and June. THE BIG SHOW is landing in select cities, usually for two nights, for an “Evening with” which means it starts early with no opener. 2 very different shows from night to night. 8-piece band including 3 horns. 2 sets. Gets loud. Some shows are in big clubs, some seated.
This is the blurb the promoters are using:
"They Might Be Giants are in top form and back on the road with their ever-evolving show. Featuring songs from the earliest days of their Dial-A-Song service, through their platinum album Flood, all the way to their Grammy-nominated album BOOK; each night is its own distinct celebration of the band's singular songbook. Backed by their notorious live band now including a three-piece horn section, expect a spontaneous, sprawling, enthralling musical event unlike any other."
TWO-NIGHT TICKET BUNDLES: A limited number of multi-night ticket packages are available –– that means reduced ticketing fees.
HOTEL ACCOMMODATIONS?: This time around, in some places, our local promoters are supplying our audiences preferred rates for nearby hotels for TMBG fans. In the past these have proven to be very good values, so check it out. Any applicable hotel deals will be listed on the show's event page.
5/9 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/10 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/11 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/14 CINCINNATI at MADISON THEATER
5/15 CINCINNATI at MADISON THEATER
5/17 DETROIT at THE MAJESTIC
5/18 DETROIT at THE MAJESTIC
6/14 MINNEAPOLIS at FIRST AVENUE
6/15 MINNEAPOLIS at FIRST AVENUE
6/16 ST PAUL at THE FITZGERALD THEATER
6/18 CHICAGO at THE VIC THEATRE
6/19 CHICAGO at THE VIC THEATRE
6/21 MILWAUKEE at THE PABST THEATRE
6/22 MILWAUKEE at THE PABST THEATRE
6/23 MADISON at THE BARRYMORE THEATRE
MORE SHOWS!
It is comical how many of the shows that have yet to sell out have just 50 or 100 tickets left, as some folks had to return tickets due to rescheduling. We know it’s far away, but now is not the worst time to make a move.
ON SALE NOW! AUSTRALIA
www.theymightbegiants.com/shows for direct links to regular tickets
SOLD OUT 2 Oct Adelaide
4 Oct Sydney
5 Oct Sydney
7 Oct Brisbane
8 Oct Brisbane
10 Oct Melbourne
11 Oct Melbourne
13 Oct Perth
ON SALE NOW! THE BRITISH ISLES
www.theymightbegiants.com/shows for direct links to regular tickets
1 Nov Southampton
SOLD OUT 2 Nov Cambridge
3 Nov London
SOLD OUT 5 Nov Glasgow
6 Nov Newcastle
8 Nov Belfast
SOLD OUT 9 Nov Dublin
SOLD OUT 12 Nov Manchester
SOLD OUT 13 Nov Leeds
15 Nov Nottingham
SOLD OUT 16 Nov Bristol
SOLD OUT 17 Nov London
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hey there, was wondering if i could get a soap x reader fic where the reader is in a very underground rock band, just like small gigs at pubs and clubs etc, and after a mission soap takes him, ghost, and the others to the pub his s/o is singing at for a post-mission night out, SORRY IF THATS TOO MUCH ITS SUCH A STUPID IDEA😭
SWEET MELODIES
Pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Singer! Female Reader
Prompt: (Requested) Soap takes the 141 to visit his girlfriend, who sings at a downtown bar on Friday’s.
Words: 1.4 k
Warnings: Drinking, a little bit of teasing, but this is pretty much fluffy.
“This better be worth it, MacTavish.” Soap’s captain growled from the shared truck his squadmates were all packed into.
Johnny was squashed next to Simon, his Lieutenant’s bicep whacking into his side with every curve and bump of the road. If he wasn’t so excited, Johnny may have grouched at the constant whacking of their muscles.
“It will be, Sir.” He reassured, his eyes brightly round despite the dark circles of exhaustion eating at his skin. They were all tired, but it was tradition to go out to a pub on a job well done, and it just so happened that the force finished around Johnny’s hometown of Glasgow.
While there was a pub closer to their location, he insisted to go to this one in particular.
“Plays live music on Friday nights.” Soap added, gaze falling to the pretty lights of the city. He twitched when he pinpointed the street that the pub was sandwiched between.
Gaz perked an eyebrow at the excitement radiating off his teammate’s body. Still, all of them seemed happy to hop out of the rented truck and walk on their own two feet. Countless hours of EVAC was enough for all of them to want a drink, regardless of sitting on lumpy barstools.
They entered the pub with tired faces, all four of them catching quite a couple stares as they went to the bar and ordered their own drinks. All of them had particular tastes. Soap settled on a glass of scotch, Price with an expensive whiskey, Gaz nursed a brew between his calloused fingers, and Simon ever the one to sip on Kentucky Bourbon.
Soap tapped his foot against the side of his barstool, spinning his glass in his hand as he gazed longingly towards the small stage the pub had. It was rickety and old looking, yet it held its own.
“Is the music really that good?” Gaz spoke up next to Soap, who startled slightly and broke his stare away the stage for a moment.
He chuckled, realizing he’d been caught looking at the flimsy gray curtain that separated the musical equipment from the actual bar.
“It’s damn good, Gaz.” Soap smirked when he heard the familar clicking of heels and the luring notes of the piano begin to twinkle through the very busy bar. The chatter went silent for a moment, all anticipating the singer who had yet to walk through the curtain.
A long leg peaked out from behind the fabric, only a tease, enough for the crowd to observe the heels and bare skin that shined against the shitty bar lights.
Then, you began to sing.
Something that Soap had heard for quite some time, yet it never stopped his lungs from constricting and lips to part in awe.
The curtain drew, putting you in full display, among with your band. You were stunningly beautiful, dressed to impress in a dress that hugged in all the right places, and opened in the sweetest spots. It had been too long of a deployment for Soap MacTavish– too long to go without seeing your gorgeous face.
“You dog, it’s definitely not the music you come for!” Price joked with his Sergeant, just as Soap grinned teasingly.
You had to be a siren of some sort, because when your mouth opened, the most enthralling sounds escaped. The crowd all had eyes on you, even a couple people cheered and clapped as you made your way into the middle of the stage. The song was a slow croon, something old and classy that had Soap sitting on the edge of his seat, among with the rest of his squad.
He rose his pinkies to his throat, folding his tongue exactly right to release a high pitch whistle. Simon startled beside him at the loud noise, whacking him across the back.
“The hell you doin’ that for?” He growled, setting down his scotch with a playful glare, but Soap didn’t seem to care, because your enchanting stare settled on him, a quirk of a smile pulling from your lips as you moved down into the crowd, all the while belting out the lyrics.
You stopped by several tables, offering teasing winks. Yet, it wasn’t hard to pinpoint that you were making your way towards Soap and his companions.
Your legs followed to Ghost first. He was the closest of the four. He leant back against the bar as you grew closer, obviously attempting to hide his fluster. Johnny would have laughed at his expression if it wasn’t for the wink you sent his Lieutenant’s way.
He’d waited a long time to see you, your eyes locking to him next. Like a fish on a line he leant forward, only to be met with mocking disappointment as you turned to his captain. You halted your crooning voice to pluck his cigar from his fingers, taking a long drag and savoring the feeling before exhaling right next to Gaz’s round eyes.
“Bloody Hell.” The young Sargent cursed in awe, just as you cooed a particular sultry note in his direction.
Then finally, finally you stopped in front of Soap, a soft look in your eyes as you were nearing the end of the song. Johnny’s grin was bright as your nails dug against his warm chest, a finger hooking around the collar of his shirt and pulling him incredibly close to your lips.
He took a moment to inhale your familiar perfume, a scent of fresh jasmine and warm summer breeze. A scent that reminded him bittersweetly of home.
Ever the tease, your fingertip settled upon the plump of his bottom lip, pushing him slightly back as you finished the last swooning lyric of your original song. A song you’d wrote about the Scottish man in front of you.
You turned, unwillingly leaving Johnny with a red blush dusting his cheeks as his squad looked on in shock.
“You’ve been hiding her this whole time, mate?” Gaz was the first to speak when you climbed upon the stage again and began a different song. You’d sing a couple more before another local band would come to take over.
Soap only shrugged, lightly sipping on his scotch.
It wasn’t long before you closed out your time on stage, loud cheers and whistles were heard amongst the crowd, loudest of all being Soap.
His squad was growing tired, made obvious by the loud yawn Price let out and the fluttering of Simon’s eyelashes against his black surgical mask.
“John MacTavish!” A cheerful voice called from across the bar. Soap had turned, already standing up as you rushed at him with a happy giggle trailing from your lips.
He caught you around the waist, as he always did. Soap was never the one to let you leave his clutches, when he was home he clung to your side like a leech.
His head turned into the crook of your neck as he swayed, a happy sigh falling from his tired body. He inhaled your familiar scent, a smile tracing upon his chapped lips. Finally— he could rest.
“Missed ya’, hen.” His draw wasn’t as uncommon in his home city, but the rich tone of his voice was something you could never forget.
You hit his chest playfully as he sat you back upon your heeled feet. “You could have told me you were coming! And with guests no less.” You scolded playfully, a small wrinkle creasing between your eyebrows.
“Yeah, we’ll I fig-” He was cut off by your fingers pulling upon his collar again, his lips happily meeting against the softness of your own. The taste of cherry lipgloss made the gunshots and yells desolate from his mind. Now the only thing important to him was you, you holding him and kissing him. Making him feel like a man again.
You pulled away, watching as the Scot breathlessly blinked, his mind still on autopilot as you took his calloused hand in your own.
“I’ve heard a lot about you boys from Johnny.” You introduced yourself as you maneuvered next to the soldiers. You sat upon Johnny’s stool, taking a sip of his forgotten scotch.
They all happily introduced themselves, Gaz even offering to tell you embarrassing stories about Soap, who was quick to shut it down.
“I heard you all can hold your liquor, care for a little bet? I’m parched.” You teased, after they began to settle from your presence.
“Oh, I like her.” Simon held his glass up, just as the rest of the squad clinked their drinks together, happily getting to know the woman who had mysteriously stole Soap’s heart.
—
Tags: None I don’t think. I hope this doesn’t cut off like it has been.
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Anthony Robert McMillan was born on March 30th, 1950 in Rutherglen, we knew him better as Robbie Coltrane.
Robbie was educated at Glenalmond College, an independent school in Perthshire, from which he was nearly expelled after hanging the prefects' gowns from the school clocktower. Though he later described his experiences there as deeply unhappy, he played for the rugby First XV, was head of the school's debating society and won prizes for his art.
From Glenalmond, Coltrane went on to Glasgow School of Art, where he was ridiculed for "having an accent like Prince Charles" (of which he quickly disposed, though not before gaining the nickname "Lord Fauntleroy"), and thereafter the Moray House College of Education (part of the University of Edinburgh) in Edinburgh.
In the early 70's Robbie took the name Coltrane, due to his love of jazz musician John Coltrane, and began a career of a stand-up comedian at night clubs, at the Edinburgh Festival, as well as an actor with Edinburgh's renowned Traverse Theatre.
After picking up a few bit parts in films and TV series I first remember Robbie appearing in the BBC Scotland comedy sketch series A kick up the Eighties, he went on from there to appear in The Comic Strip Presents films during the 80's The Supergrass and The Pope must die being the most successful. At that time Coltrane had a drinking problem, downing as much as a bottle of whisky a day. In 1986 he flew to a clinic in Mexico and was treated for obesity. In 1987 his partner for 15 years, Robin Paine, left him for good. A year later he met Rhona Gemmell in a pub. They married and had a son, Spencer, and a daughter, Alice. His career took off during the early 1990s with the leading role as Dr. Eddie "Fitz" Fitzgerald, a forensic psychologist, in the popular TV series Cracker.
Coltrane is one of only a few to have played "baddies" in 2 Bond films, playing Russian mafia man Valentin Dmitrovich Zukovsky in GoldenEye and The World Is Not Enough. He went on to play Rubeus Hagrid in seven Harry Potter films.
Robbie has also featured in factual TV series, Coltrane's Planes and Automobiles, as well as a host of other TV series, none of which, surprisingly are Taggart! He was voted No. 11 in ITV's TV's 50 Greatest Stars and sixth in a poll of 2000 adults across the UK to find the 'most famous Scot', behind the Loch Ness Monster, Robert Burns, Sean Connery, Robert the Bruce and William Wallace.
Robbie passed away on October 14th 2022, he had become a virtual recluse, living a a rented converted barn near Stirling, living off takeaways from a local Chinese. Coltrane was cremated and his family spread his ashes around several of his favourite places around Manhattan, New York.
His death certificate shows that the actor died from a string of conditions including multiple organ failure, the causes of death given were sepsis, where an infection triggers an extreme reaction throughout the body, lower respiratory tract infection and heart block.
I always loved Robbie, from his early days right through his career, it's sad when the people you grew up laughing at and enjoyed in folms and TV pass away.............Rest in Peace big man.
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The Port & the City
Buenos Aires, photo by lasgalletas (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)
Introduction
City of witches and of asphalt,
port with no exit to the sea!
— La Portuaria, from the port of Buenos Aires
Some cities have a port, and some port cities have a port culture. That's how I call it, anyway. It's a very special thing. It's created by the furious economic activity that concentrates around the coming and going of ships, cargo, and people. A port needs to cater to all of that, the ships and the cargo, the shipowner and the dockworker, the captain and the deckhand, the tourist and the sailor and the fisherman. And that transforms the entire city.
Where a port city meets the sea, there's shipping companies, travel agencies, imports/exports, truck companies, posh hotels, shitty hotels, fancy bars, seedy bars, brothels, strip clubs, theatres, restaurants, casinos, bookshops, tool shops, souvenir shops, fishing supplies, and fresh fish. There's peddlers and businessmen, porters and accountants, all sorts of people, and they all mingle. They have to! The port's there!
Port cities have their own landmarks and geography, with docks, wharfs, piers, depots, gates, shipyards, and people can orient themselves by relation to the water.
New York City, photo by Kari Nousiainen (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)
Crime
My gold watch and my pocketbook and lady friend were gone
And there was I, Jack all alone, stark naked in the room
— the port of New York City
Port cities attract furious criminal activity. Firstly and obviously, everything that's smuggled will be smuggled through here, from cocaine to counterfeit handbags to guns to oil. (I mean crude/refined oil, though with the prices we've seen lately, olive oil is equally plausible.) Port authorities, customs, shipowners and workers, all can have a hand in the pie, a little finger or both hands shoulder-deep, depending on how high up the ladder they are.
Second, ports are always full of newcomers, sailors and passengers, and all newcomers are potential marks. Con artists, scammers, and grifters of all sorts can ply their trade here. There's also a lot of shilling for more or less legitimate businesses (come buy this, sir! rent a room here, ma'am! oh but you must have a drink there, buddy!), and peddling less then legitimate goods (may I interest you in a fine watch? Rayban glasses, I have Rayban glasses! 100% genuine!). And then there's good old pickpocketing. Although in most cases, pickpockets are not allowed to operate within the port itself: it's bad for everyone else's business, and unlike cops, "everyone else" can actually enforce that.
And third, there's the entertainment sector: the trifecta of night life, sex work, and gambling, all going hand in hand with the sale and consumption of drugs and booze. Expect the port city to be much more entangled in all that than other cities, and the port itself to attract the bulk of it, or the worst of it. Things that are theoretically illegal might be tolerated here, things that are heavily regulated elsehwhere might follow their own rules here, and things that are otherwise unheard of can be found here. What are you into? Step right up but beware: the large print giveth and the small print taketh away.
The upshot of all this is that people in the port's vicinity (not the whole city, though) are more likely to be involved, or at least personally know someone who's involved, in profoundly shady and/or illegal business. And that certainly affects the culture. Breaking the law is more "eh" than "oh my!".
Clydebuilt Museum, photo by Paisley Scotland (Creative Commons CC BY 2.0)
Politics
All my life I've lived beside the waters that they call the Clyde
I build the ships and watch them glide down the Broomielaw, sir
Trudge to work in sleet and rain, labour for another's gain
know yer place and don't complain, that's the rich man's law, sir
— Alistair Hulett, from the shipyards of Glasgow
A port displays furious political activity. Unions are strong here, because labour is not only working, it's working hard, manually, in the same spaces (so they can talk about it!), and facing the same dangers to life and limb. Working on the docks, handling cargo containers, and ship-building and maintenance are very hazardous jobs (scrapping even more so, I'd say dramatically so), and under these conditions, it's easier to spot the enemy. Not automatic though. Port cities are traditionally, but not unconditionally, strongholds of the left.
Today, it's extremely important for the left to take the ports, because if it doesn't the fascists will. The workforce here has significant ethnic diversity, coming both from inland (immigrants and local minorities) and from the sea (sailors who go around the world sometimes end up working in random ports). So basically, this either goes "proletarians of the world unite" or "foreigners are stealing our jobs", no middle ground.
By the way, if all your knowledge about port unions comes from The Wire, or worse (for our older readers) from On the Waterfront, please be aware that these are slanted depictions, and you don't actually know anything. [They're not equally slanted, The Wire is nowhere near the other one's level of shameless propaganda, nor so completely divorced from reality. I mean yes, unions can be involved in shady business; so can literally everyone else in the port. But On the Waterfront, without the slightest exaggeration, is to American organised labour what Birth of a Nation is to Black Americans.]
Valparaíso, photo by [o] Rolando Vejar (Creative Commons CC BY-SA 2.0)
Culture
Amo el amor de los marineros que besan y se van.
Dejan una promesa. No vuelven nunca más.
— Pablo Neruda, from the port of Valparaíso
The port's culture seeps through the rest of the city. This is where sailor lore gets created and spread, and a port by definition loves travel and the ocean. Many non-sailors fall for it hook, line and sinker, and write poems and sing songs and their heart swells at the mere thought of sailing. But their fascination is often rose-tinted, whereas people who make a living from the sea typically have a love/hate relationship with it.
Maiden voyages are important occasions in shipbulding ports. A ship's last voyage, before it goes to scrap, is also memorable. If the ship regularly docks there, it will be the talk of the town, and if it's a passenger ship [this assumes a geography with regular passenger runs], a whole mess of people will be sharing stories and memories, waving it farewell, shouting, applauding, crying a little. It can get very emotional.
There's also a silly sort of localism/professional pride going on, where even the port's accountants, who've never set foot below decks IF they've actually boarded a ship, feel like they're a different species of accountant, inexplicably tougher and saltier than their more, er, inland colleagues. No matter who you are and what you do, it's badge of honour to say you're from and/or work at the port, like you're automatically endowed with tenacity and street smarts. It doesn't make sense, but there you have it.
Rotterdam, photo by MaxAmy Photography (Creative Commons CC BY-ND 2.0)
Desire
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries, in a drunken town fight
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who's born
On a hot muggy morn by the dawn's early light
— Jacques Brel (in David Bowie's adaptation), from the port of Amsterdam
A port is filthy, grubby, and hopelessly romantic. If it faces somewhat west, it's on fire every sunset. Silhouettes of gigantic cranes are framed by red clouds like alien tripods. The sun sinks into the ocean, and tell me, in the whole wide earth, is there a sweeter sight? Ships approach like sea beasts, and dock in their usual place like old friends.
A port carries the whiff of grease and petrol, the cool sea breeze, and the incessant sounds of waves and engines and – most of all – people. A port IS people, passing. And tell me, in the whole wide world, is there anything more exciting and heartwrenching than people passing? A port city can fill you with wanderlust and feel like a prison, or a warm welcome, or a devastating farewell.
And if you point a gun to my head and force me to describe a port in a single word, I'll have to say: desire.
Love me, leave me, hold me tight, walk away, forget.
Look at how I broke inside, and how the sea has swelled!
It's pouring out a riot of colours, scents, and lights,
and in the city's gutter it's building paradise.
— Ξύλινα Σπαθιά, from the port of Thessaloniki
Thessaloniki, photo by Arend Kuester (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)
La Portuaria - Un dia cualquiera (El bar de la calle Rodney) | the port of Buenos Aires
Ξύλινα Σπαθιά - Ρόδες | the port of Thessaloniki
Tom Waits - Step right up
Finbar Furey - New York City girls | the port of New York
The Dubliners - Go to sea no more | the port of Liverpool
Alistair Hulett - The Old Divide and Rule | the shipyards of Glasgow
The Dreadnoughts - Roll Northumbria | the shipyards of Tyne
The Longest Johns - Fire & flame | the port of Halifax
Maria del Mar Bonet - Merhaba | the ports of the Mediterranean
Cesária Évora - Mar de canal | the port of Mindelo
Susana Baca - Los marineros | the port of Valparaíso
Παντελής Θαλασσινός - Άσπρο καΐκι στη Νέα Πέραμο | the little port of Nea Peramos
Jacques Brel - Amsterdam | the port of Amsterdam
Social Waste - Kasbah | the port of Algiers
Πάνος Κατσιμίχας - Ο πιλότος Νάγκελ | the port of Colombo, so far from Lofoten
Ξύλινα Σπαθιά - Φωτιά στο λιμάνι | the port of Thessaloniki
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Does Robert Carlyle, now 62, get his kit off in the new TV series of The Full Monty? ‘Nobody wants to see that,’ he says with a grin.
Photograph: Alana Paterson/The Observer
Interview
By Rebecca Nicholson, printed in Guardian/Observer
Robert Carlyle’s life has been defined by two remarkable characters: the explosively violent Begbie, and Gaz in The Full Monty. Here, he talks about his Glasgow childhood, Britpop hedonism – and playing the PM…
It was 1997, and Robert Carlyle was in his mid-30s, when he first played the stripping Sheffield steelworker Gaz in The Full Monty. Last year, to get ready to play him again – this time for an eight-part TV series – he sat himself down to watch the film. He seems slightly embarrassed to admit it – he’s not the kind of actor who likes to watch himself. “And I’m not about trawling back through something from 20-odd years ago,” he says. But The Full Monty was calling him to South Yorkshire, so trawl back he did. He decided that he would watch a few minutes, then he would move on. “And I sat there and watched the whole thing.” He was surprised to find that it still worked, even after 25 years. “I don’t know if I can say this, but I really enjoyed it. It really stands up.”
The original Full Monty told the story of six unemployed men from Sheffield who put on a DIY strip show at the working men’s club. It was an indie film, shot on a very small budget, and it almost went straight to video; a last-minute re-edit saved it from obscurity and it went on to be a staggering global success, making £200m at the box office. Carlyle’s Gaz is the ringleader, a schemer and a dreamer trying to keep enough money in his pocket to put the heating on when his son comes to stay.
I had misremembered it as a film about men getting their kit off, a bawdy hen night of British comedy. But rewatching it I was struck by how political it seems now. Three decades later, in the new series, people are still broke and Gaz is still scheming, but the working men’s club has shut down, the school is crumbling and children are going hungry.
‘I love it when I dive into a job. You’ve got a little family unit, you love each other to bits and you think you’re going to be friends forever’
“It’s easy to forget that the film is quite heavily political,” says Carlyle. “It makes a point. And I think the same applies to the TV show. These people have lived through what seems like 25 years of austerity.” He credits the writers, Simon Beaufoy and Alice Nutter, with its gallows humour. “But you see that the older people’s lives have been pretty tough for the past 25 years, and then there’s 20 years of what Simon calls the Young Montys, the younger characters, heading for the same shit. So it’s good that this has been made. It shows what people go through to survive the day to day.” Not just men getting their kit off, then. Does he strip this time? “Nobody wants to see that,” he says, with a grin.
Carlyle is a great talker, open and funny and relaxed. He admits he was not always this way, particularly when it came to the press, though he did have his reasons. He’s calmed down a lot since his wilder days, in part because he is, as he says, “125 years old” (he’s just turned 62, though he looks younger) and also because he now lives in Vancouver, on the west coast of Canada. “There’s a laid-back attitude and quality here I enjoy,” he says. He moved there to film a TV series, Once Upon a Time, in 2011, with his wife, Anastasia Shirley, and three children, and found that he liked the city, though he has kept a home in Glasgow, where he grew up, and the family splits its time between the two. His kids are 21, 19 and 17.
Do they have Canadian accents? “Aye, they do,” he laughs. “My eldest son’s got this strange – hang on, let me see if I can do it – this half-American thing with a bit of Scottish thrown in, you know?”
Carlyle is at his happiest when he’s at home. “I’m a homebody, there’s no doubt about that,” he says. “I’ve got loads of friends, particularly in London, and I enjoy it when I get to meet up with them. It’s brilliant. But I’ve always been a bit of a loner to be honest.” Carlyle was brought up by his father; his mother walked out when he was a child. He has spoken before about moving around a lot, living in communes. “I always think about it as darkness and light, my life, because the first part of it was pretty dark. My mother had left when I was a wee boy. I was brought up by my dad alone in Glasgow in the 60s, and the single- parent family, there was not a lot of that around, especially a single-parent family with a father. That made me instantly different from the rest of the people who were around me.” He seems surprised by his own candour. “Genuinely, I’ve never really spoken about this before. But I guess that’s probably where it started.”
I still love Begbie. It was such an explosion. An absolute avalanche
Did he feel like an outsider at school? “When I was very young, yeah, definitely. It’s the little things.” He has a teacher friend and he says he is pleased to hear that things are very different now. “But back in the day, if you had to get permission for something, the teachers would say, bring a note in from your mum. Stuff like that. Of course, when you don’t have that, that really hits home, even when you’re a wee boy.”
Carlyle left school at 16, became a painter and decorator, and worked with his dad. At 21, he came across a copy of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, and it lit something up inside him. He went on to the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, and set up his own theatre company. For a loner, he has picked a very sociable job.
“Yeah, but I’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve become very good at separating those things. I love it when I dive into a job, whether theatre, film, TV, whatever. You’ve got a little family unit, you love each other to bits and you think you’re going to be friends for ever. Then two months later you never see them again,” he laughs. Family means a lot to him. “I’d always wanted to have a good family unit, to be able to connect with each other and be pals with each other,” he says, talking about his three children. “Thankfully, we’re great friends.”
In 1991, he was cast as the lead in Ken Loach’s Riff-Raff, and worked steadily through the 90s, playing a serial killer in Cracker, which set the tone for more villainous roles to come. But nothing prepared him for the double whammy of playing the sadistic maniac Begbie in Trainspotting at the end of 1995 and Gaz in The Full Monty, 18 months later. “From that point on, they were massive shadows that then followed me around for the rest of my life, the rest of my career,” he says. “So it was something that I had to get used to, the whole fame thing. Because I am, as I’ve been saying, quite a homely guy, a family man, it took me a long time to get used to that.”
To say the films were hits is an understatement. Both were phenomena that travelled around the world. One of the strangest things about watching The Full Monty again, he says, is that it took him right back to that time. “It’s looking at yourself in another life, and all the things that were happening in my life back then. I mean, we can all look back in photographs, but I’ve got this living, breathing thing in front of me.”
What was happening in his life back then?
“Ha!” It was the height of the Britpop era, and because of those films, Carlyle was right at the heart of it. Back in the day, as he puts it, he was invited to everything and went to most of it. “I met all the personalities of the day, the Oasis lads, Damon Albarn, who’s still a great friend. I was right in the middle of that whole thing, enjoying that life.”
Was it as hedonistic as it seemed? He doesn’t pause for breath. “One thousand per cent,” he grins. “It was incredibly hedonistic, but it was exciting. If you think about it politically, we’d just come out of Tory rule. Blair was there, everything seemed to be on the up. And I can remember that feeling.” He appeared in an Oasis video, for the song Little By Little.
Was it easy to be friends with Blur and Oasis, given their famous rivalry? “Hahaha. To be honest with you, I was really good at not getting involved. But I remember when I did Little By Little, Damon was like, ‘Why the fuck did you do that? Come and do one for me!’ I said, ‘But you never asked,’ which was true! And that was the end of the conversation.”
“It doesn’t sound like you were a homebody in those days,” I say. He laughs again. “No,” he says. “There wasn’t so much homebody then. I certainly wasn’t shy in getting out the door.”
But there was a darker side to that era. His fame made him a person of interest to the tabloids. He says it’s nothing compared to what some people experienced, but still it sounds unpleasant.
“At the time, going through that was horrible, to be honest with you, because I didn’t understand it. I was suddenly in this world and I was very open. Probably too open, at times.” The papers responded by reporting on his private life and his family. “They got in touch with my mother and pulled her out the dark, and that was really upsetting. So I slammed the door shut for a long time, because I just hated it.” He was tight-lipped in interviews and wouldn’t do chatshows, though he will say he still regrets saying no to Michael Parkinson. “I think that was probably quite clever, because then you do keep a little bit of yourself. I mean, you see people on these chatshows and everything comes out and you go, ‘My God, I don’t know how you can live your life like that.’”
He does them these days, however. “Because I’m 125, I’m more used to it,” he jokes. “I can do it better now. Time and age is a great thing.”
Is it just time? Has he mellowed with age?
“It’s family, children. My children came in the 2000s, so all the stuff in the 90s, there were no kids then, but once children arrive in your life, everything changes overnight. So that becomes more important. That becomes your focus. And you begin to think, ‘Oh, the other stuff’s not actually worth bothering about.’”
Carlyle has had the chance to go back to two of his most iconic characters. He revisited Begbie for T2, the Trainspotting sequel, in 2017. A sequel was always planned, and Carlyle says he and Jonny Lee Miller, who plays Sickboy, wanted it to be sooner. “But Danny Boyle [the director] always said, we’ll do it, but when you’re older. He was obviously right, because it’s in the face. You can see that life has been lived.”
Even more so than Gaz, the terrifying Begbie is the character who has followed him around the longest. “The terrifying Begbie!” he laughs. “I love Begbie. I mean, who knew? Who knew what was going to happen with that character? It was such an explosion, Trainspotting. An absolute avalanche.” At the time, he knew that the film was going to be something special. “I thought this character is gonna be around for a while. But I thought, maybe a few years.” Yesterday, he says, he went to the butcher’s near his house, and the man in the shop, in his 20s, from Bilbao, recognised him and said he loved him in Trainspotting. “He said, ‘I’ve got a T-shirt of you, of Begbie with the glass.’ This thing I thought was going to last a few years, is still there, in people’s minds, 27 years later.” Wherever he goes now, people still recognise him as Begbie. “That mad character!” He’s not exactly a teddy bear, is he? “I mean, this is a line from the film – he’s a psycho, but he’s a mate, so what can you do? I do love him. And Gaz. Both these characters have given me a tremendous career and a tremendous life, and you’ve got to love him for that.”
Besides, Begbie’s not dead yet. There is a six-part TV series, The Blade Artist, in the planning, about Begbie’s post-prison life as an acclaimed artist in California. Carlyle is working on it with Irvine Welsh and Hex author Jenni Fagan.
“It’s been brilliant, this one. I mean, let’s face it, Begbie is me. So to be right in at the beginning of that and be able to go, well, actually, maybe change this, change that… that’s where we are at the moment.” He thinks they’ll start shooting in the next year or two.
For now, he’s off work, relaxing in Vancouver, travelling with his wife, spending time with his family. “Back in the day, it was all about the next job, next job, next job and I don’t think so much like that any more.”
Recently, he’s been playing the British prime minster, Robert Sutherland, in the political thriller Cobra. “Who would have thought? Begbie, Gaz, the prime minister…” he says. In the original Full Monty, Gaz explains that he can’t go shoplifting because “I’ve got serial killer written on my forehead.” Carlyle nods. “That’s right. That’s probably my issue with parts. Certainly with Sutherland, when he gets angry, I’ve got to really pull it down. Don’t get Begbie-angry,” he says. “Begbie as the prime minister!” I wouldn’t put it past him.
The Full Monty will be streaming on Disney+ from 14 June
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The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in July 2023
01/07 Princess Anne accompanied by Sir Tim, opened the 30th Scottish Traditional Boat Festival at Portsoy Harbour. ⛴️
03/07 As Chancellor of Harper Adams University, visited the University’s Future Farm, Edgmond and met the 2023 Marshal Papworth Foundation Scholars. 👩🎓
As Patron, Scottish Fisheries Museum’s Reaper Appeal visited the Scottish Fisheries Museum in St. Ayles, Anstruther. 🎣
04/07 Visited Strathcarron Hospice, Denny. 👩⚕️
As Colonel-in-Chief of the Intelligence Corps, attended a 5 Military Intelligence Battalion Training Night at the Army Reserve Centre, Edinburgh. 💂
05/07 As part of Holyrood week in Edinburgh, Princess Anne carried out the following engagements;
Opened the Royal Hospital for Children and Young People and the Department of Clinical Neurosciences, at NHS Lothian as part of #NHS75 celebrations. 🧸
Opened King’s Buildings Nucleus Building at the University of Edinburgh. 👩🎓
Launched WETWHEELS EDINBURGH Accessible Boat at Port Edgar Marina. 🦽🛥️
Attended a Dinner at the Waldorf Astoria for Eric Liddell 100 programme. 🍽️
06/07 As President of the UK Fashion and Textile Association, attended the Textile Institute World Conference at the University of Huddersfield. 🪡
Opened Bradford Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust’s Maternity Theatre at Bradford Royal Infirmary.🤰
As Colonel of The Blues and Royals, with Sir Tim, took the salute at the Household Division Beating Retreat on Horse Guards Parade. 🫡
07/07 Attended a Charity Polo Day at Cirencester Park Polo Club for the Spinal Injuries Association 🐎
11/07 Visited Flintshire Adult Day Care Centre, Hwb Cyfle in Queensferry, Wales. 🏴
HRH, as the new Patron of BASC (British Association for Shooting and Conservation) visited their Headquarters at Marford Mill, Wrexham, Wales. 🦡
12/07 Visited St Helena’s Nursing Campus at the University of Derby in Chesterfield. 👩⚕️
Opened Chesterfield Royal Hospital NHS Foundation Trust’s new Urgent and Emergency Care Department. 🏥
Attended a Reception at Rolls-Royce Learning and Development Centre for the Motor Neurone Association. 🚘
13/07 Sir Tim represented the Princess Royal at a service of thanksgiving for the life of Admiral of the Fleet Lord Boyce at Westminster Abbey. ⚓️
Princess Anne opened the King’s Arch at Government House, visited the Tortoise Takeover Trail at Gorey Castle and subsequently opened the Tortoise Tunnel at Jersey Zoo. 🇯🇪🐢
Princess Anne with Sir Tim, later attended the Royal Academy of Engineering Annual Awards Dinner at the Londoner Hotel in Leicester Square, London. 🏆
14/07 Opened the new Southampton Citizens Advice Bureau and visited DP World Shipping Container Terminal. ⛴️
15/07 As Colonel-in-Chief of the Intelligence Corps, attended their Annual Corps Day at Chicksands. 🪖
18/07 Princess Anne and Sir Tim carried out the following engagements in Kent;
Opened a new affordable housing development at Bartlett Close, Staple, Canterbury, followed by a Reception at Staple Village Hall. 🏡
Visited St James’s Cemetery in Dover in her role as Patron of the Remembrance Trust 🫡
Visited Folkestone National Coastguard Institution Station in Folkestone to mark its 25th Anniversary, followed by a Reception at Folkestone Yacht and Motorboat Club. 🚨
19/07 In South Wales, visited Barry Citizens Advice Bureaux in her role of Patron of the National Association of Citizens Advice Bureaux and later visited HM Prison Cardiff in her role of Patron of the Butler Trust. 🏴
20/07 Joined the ship’s company of HMS Albion and visited Clyde Marina near Glasgow, Scotland. 🏴
21/07 Princess Anne and Sir Tim attended a Dinner at the Royal Ocean Racing Club Clubhouse, to celebrate the 50th Edition of the Fastnet Race in Cowes, Isle of Wight. 🛥️
27/07 Attended the Tall Ships Races Captains’ Dinner at Lerwick Town Hall, Lerwick, Shetland Islands. 👨✈️🍽️
28/07 Visited ships in Lerwick Harbour taking part in the Tall Ships Races. 🚢🏁
29/07 With Sir Tim, attended the King George Day at Ascot Racecourse. 🏆🐎
30/07 Princess Anne and Sir Tim visited Cowes, Isle of Wight for Cowes Week and carried out the following engagements;
Viewed Cowes Week Racing and met Squadron Staff at the Royal Yacht Squadron. 🛥️
Visited HMS Tyne and The Royal Navy Stand. ⛴️
Attended a Church Service at Holy Trinity Church. ⛪️
Attended a Reception for Members, Racing Crews, Flag Officers and Sailing Associates at the Royal Yacht Squadron. 🥂
Total official engagements for Anne in July: 42
2023 total so far: 304
Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in July: 14
2023 total so far: 70
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Pride Month list part 2: book edition
I read a lot (and I mean a lot) of queer books, especially during my YA phase ages 15-17, but here are a few that have particularly stood out to me, and why you should read them:
Maurice by E.M. Forster (published posthumously in 1971): everything you'd want from an early 20th century romance, except it's gay, and arguably the best piece of 20th century queer literature
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (2019): absolutely heartwrenching, will have you gasping for air in between sobs, and it's written by a poet so you KNOW the prose is amazing
Young Mungo by Douglas Stuart (2022): set in 1990s Glasgow, will absolutely rip your heart out and tear it to shreds
Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo (2021): 1950s lesbian coming of age during the red scare, need I say more?
Don't Cry for Me by Daniel Black (2022): written in the form of letters, from a Black father to his gay son
Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski (2020): for some reason, no one seems to have read this, and they absolutely should have. will, once again, leave you in sobs (I am beginning to suspect I might cry easily)
My Government Means to Kill Me by Rasheed Newson (2022): another underhyped one, about race and sexuality during the AIDS crisis
Un Garçon d'Italie by Philippe Besson (2003): one of the narrators is literally a rotting corpse, that should be intriguing enough
A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood (1964), Confusion by Stefan Zweig (1927), Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown (1973) and Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin (1956) because, if you're like me, you're desparate to find queer literature from before the 1990s
Angels in America by Tony Kushner (1993), much quicker to read than to watch though, unfortunately, you do not have Andrew Garfield as Prior Walter in the written version
Ace of Spades by Faridah Abiké-Iyimidé (2021) starts with a quote from Get Out and that tells you everything you need to know
Ziggy, Stardust and Me by James Brandon (2019) is surprisingly rich for YA, exploring homosexuality in the 1970s, conversion therapy and Native American identity
Crush by Richard Siken (2005) if you're more into poetry, particularly the kind that will bring you physical and emotional pain
Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel (1986) because you can't not read Alison Bechdel
The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun (2021), The Feeling of Falling in Love by Mason Deaver (2022), and She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen (2021) are the perfect romcoms if you want to switch your brain off for a few hours (or emotionally recover from half of the other books on this list)
For the similar list I made about movies, click here
Happy Pride!🏳️⚧️🏳️🌈
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COMING OF AGE
YOUNG MUNGO by Douglas Stuart
Growing up in a housing estate in Glasgow, Mungo and James are born under different stars (Mungo a Protestant and James a Catholic) and they should be sworn enemies if they're to be seen as men at all. Yet against all odds, they become best friends. (TW abuse)
LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by Malinda Lo
Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club.
RAINBOW MILK by Paul Mendez
At the turn of the millennium, Jesse seeks a fresh start in London, escaping a broken immediate family, a repressive religious community and his depressed hometown in the industrial Black Country. But once he arrives he finds himself at a loss for a new center of gravity.
HISTORICAL FICTION
THE GREAT BELIEVERS by Rebecca Makkai
In 1985, Yale Tishman is about to pull off an amazing coup. Yet as his career begins to flourish, the carnage of the AIDS epidemic grows around him. The AIDS crisis and how it affects a group of Chicago friends and the survivors who meet decades later in Paris.
STILL LIFE by Sarah Winman
A sweeping portrait of unforgettable individuals who come together to make a family, and a richly drawn celebration of beauty and love in all its forms. A group of english outcasts used to meeting in a London pub end up in Florence.
SWIMMING IN THE DARK by Tomasz Jedrowski
Set in early 1980s Poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide.
A TIP FOR THE HANGMAN by Alison Epstein
Christopher Marlowe, brilliant aspiring playwright, is pulled into the duplicitous world of international espionage on behalf of Queen Elizabeth I. A many-layered historical thriller combining state secrets, intrigue, and romance.
TELL THE WOLVES I’M HOME by Carol Rifka Brunt
A moving story of love, grief, and renewal as two lonely people become the unlikeliest of friends and find that sometimes you don't know you've lost someone until you've found them.
CONTEMPORARY FICTION
THE GOLDEN SEASON by Madeline Kay Sneed
A love letter to the places we call home and asks how we grapple with a complicated love for people and places that might not love us back—at least, not for who we really are.
JUST BY LOOKING AT HIM by Ryan O’Connell
A darkly witty and touching novel following a gay TV writer with cerebral palsy as he fights addiction and searches for acceptance in an overwhelmingly ableist world.
REAL LIFE by Brandon Taylor
Almost everything about Wallace is at odds with the Midwestern university town where he is working uneasily toward a biochem degree. But over the course of a late-summer weekend, a series of confrontations with colleagues, and an unexpected encounter with an ostensibly straight, white classmate, conspire to fracture his defenses.
SKYE FALLING by Mia McKenzie
Told in a fresh, lively voice, this novel is a relentlessly clever, deeply moving portrait of a woman and the relationships she thought she could live without.
FUTURE FEELING by Joss Lake
An embittered Trans dog walker obsessed with social media inadvertently puts a curse a young man—and must adventure into mysterious dimension in order to save him—in this wildly inventive, delightfully subversive, genre-nonconforming novel about illusion, magic, technology, kinship, and the future.
GIRL, WOMAN, OTHER by Bernardine Evaristo
Follows the lives and struggles of twelve very different characters. Mostly women, black and British, they tell the stories of their families, friends and lovers, across the country and through the years.
MEMORIAL by Bryan Washington
Benson and Mike are two young guys who live together in Houston, and they've been together for a few years -- good years -- but now they're not sure why they're still a couple.
THIS IS HOW IT ALWAYS IS by Laurie Frankel
Change is always hard and miraculous and hard again, parenting is always a leap into the unknown with crossed fingers and full hearts, children grow but not always according to plan. And families with secrets don’t get to keep them forever.
ON EARTH WE’RE BRIEFLY GORGEOUS by Ocean Vuong
a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born.
DETRANSITION, BABY by Torrey Peters
A whipsmart novel about three women—transgender and cisgender—whose lives collide after an unexpected pregnancy forces them to confront their deepest desires around gender, motherhood, and sex.
EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM WILL SOMEDAY BE DEAD by Emily Austin
Gilda, a twenty-something lesbian, cannot stop ruminating about death. Desperate for relief from her panicky mind and alienated from her repressive family, she responds to a flyer for free therapy at a local Catholic church, and is abruptly hired to replace the recently deceased receptionist Grace.
SHORT STORIES
FILTHY ANIMALS by Brandon Taylor
It’s a tender portrait of the fierce longing for intimacy, the lingering presence of pain, and the desire for love in a world that seems, more often than not, to withhold it.
THE SECRET LIVES OF CHURCH LADIES by Deesha Philyaw
Explores the raw and tender places where black women and girls dare to follow their desires and pursue a momentary reprieve from being good.
NON FICTION (MEMOIRS)
IN THE DREAM HOUSE by Carmen Maria Machado
About the complexities of abuse in same-sex relationships. (TW abuse)
ALL BOYS AREN’T BLUE by George M. JohnsoN
Weaves together the trials and triumphs faced by Black queer boys.
THRILLERS & MYSTERIES
WHERE THE TRUTH LIES by Anna Bailey
When a teenaged girl disappears from an insular small town, all of the community’s most devastating secrets come to light in this stunningly atmospheric and slow-burning suspense novel.
BATH HAUS by P.J. Vernon
Oliver Park, a young recovering addict from Indiana, finally has everything he ever wanted: sobriety and a loving partner. With everything to lose, Oliver shouldn't be visiting Haus, a gay bathhouse. But through the entrance he goes, and it's a line crossed.
DEAD DEAD GIRLS by Nekesa Afia
Set in 1920s Harlem featuring Louise Lloyd, a young black woman caught up in a series of murders way too close to home.
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A Haunting at Nice 'N' Sleazy 11PM - 3AM next Tuesday 7th April, FREE ENTRY.
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Happy Birthday, Modern Glasgow!
On Halloween Night 2015, I went with a friend to a club. Something I never do. I had a terrible time.
But I’m thankful every day that I went, because that night inspired me to write the first chapter of what eventually became Modern Glasgow - a short story where a modern Jamie and Claire go to a club, get angry at each other, and make up.
With time, the Modern Glasgow universe has expanded beyond my wildest dreams. The fanfiction landscape has changed, as well - back when I published Modern Glasgow in November 2015, there were no other modern AUs. Now there are too many to count.
When I posted the latest Modern Glasgow chapter over at AO3 a few days back, the statistics really struck me.
132,000 words
126 chapters
90,000+ views
Never would I have imagined that my crazy ideas would be so welcomed by so many people.
I am so humbled that you have all indulged me on this journey with the Modern Glasgow Frasers. I’ll keep writing them as long as you want to keep reading them!
So thank you. And if you've got an idea for a story, or a question about the Modern Glasgow universe, or want to know about my writing process...please send it in!
With love and appreciation,
Gotham
(PS - click here to read the stories in chronological order!)
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So much news! THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS TOUR THE MIDWEST!
John F. here. First off, we are going back on the road in the Midwest this May and June. THE BIG SHOW is landing in select cities, usually for two nights, for an “Evening with” which means it starts early with no opener. 2 very different shows from night to night. 8-piece band including 3 horns. 2 sets. Gets loud. Some shows are in big clubs, some seated.
This is the blurb the promoters are using:
"They Might Be Giants are in top form and back on the road with their ever-evolving show. Featuring songs from the earliest days of their Dial-A-Song service, through their platinum album Flood, all the way to their Grammy-nominated album BOOK; each night is its own distinct celebration of the band's singular songbook. Backed by their notorious live band now including a three-piece horn section, expect a spontaneous, sprawling, enthralling musical event unlike any other."
TWO-NIGHT TICKET BUNDLES: A limited number of multi-night ticket packages are available –– that means reduced ticketing fees.
HOTEL ACCOMMODATIONS?: This time around, in some places, our local promoters are supplying our audiences preferred rates for nearby hotels for TMBG fans. In the past these have proven to be very good values, so check it out. Any applicable hotel deals will be listed on the show's event page.
5/9 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/10 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/11 PITTSBURGH at MR. SMALL’S THEATRE
5/14 CINCINNATI at MADISON THEATER
5/15 CINCINNATI at MADISON THEATER
5/17 DETROIT at THE MAJESTIC
5/18 DETROIT at THE MAJESTIC
6/14 MINNEAPOLIS at FIRST AVENUE
6/15 MINNEAPOLIS at FIRST AVENUE
6/16 ST PAUL at THE FITZGERALD THEATER
6/18 CHICAGO at THE VIC THEATRE
6/19 CHICAGO at THE VIC THEATRE
6/21 MILWAUKEE at THE PABST THEATRE
6/22 MILWAUKEE at THE PABST THEATRE
6/23 MADISON at THE BARRYMORE THEATRE
MORE SHOWS!
It is comical how many of the shows that have yet to sell out have just 50 or 100 tickets left, as some folks had to return tickets due to rescheduling. We know it’s far away, but now is not the worst time to make a move.
ON SALE NOW! AUSTRALIA
www.theymightbegiants.com/shows for direct links to regular tickets
SOLD OUT 2 Oct Adelaide
4 Oct Sydney
5 Oct Sydney
7 Oct Brisbane
8 Oct Brisbane
10 Oct Melbourne
11 Oct Melbourne
13 Oct Perth
ON SALE NOW! THE BRITISH ISLES
www.theymightbegiants.com/shows for direct links to regular tickets
1 Nov Southampton
SOLD OUT 2 Nov Cambridge
3 Nov London
SOLD OUT 5 Nov Glasgow
6 Nov Newcastle
8 Nov Belfast
SOLD OUT 9 Nov Dublin
SOLD OUT 12 Nov Manchester
SOLD OUT 13 Nov Leeds
15 Nov Nottingham
SOLD OUT 16 Nov Bristol
SOLD OUT 17 Nov London
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Jeff Buckley in the U.K.
JEFF BUCKLEY loved British music; the nervous energy in British punk, the wired consciousness of the Clash, the way Siouxsie and the Banshees went from gun-metal moodiness to skies full of fireworks.
He adored the Cocteau Twins, of course, especially Liz Fraser's "impossible voice". He loved how the Smiths called to outsiders and nerds. He loved the textures of Johnny Marr's supple guitar and the mordant presence of Steve Jones's guitar in the Sex Pistols.
Jeff, whose own nervous energy was considerable, became even more wired whenever we went to the UK; he was stimulated by its variety. He also appreciated its compactness – the lack of eight-hour drives between cities was refreshing.
Sony had passed on Live at Sin-é in Europe. We were understandably disappointed, but there was a solution close at hand: Steve Abbott, known to everyone as Abbo, who ran the eccentric indie record label Big Cat and had picked up on many of the promising un-signed bands playing in New York: Pavement, Mercury Rev, Luscious Jackson. He had approached Jeff after Gods & Monsters and Sin-é shows and asked him if he'd like to record with Big Cat, but then Sony stepped in. Jeff felt that he owed Abbo a record, so when Columbia UK passed on Live at Sin-é and Michele Anthony instigated a funding deal with Big Cat, it seemed the perfect opportunity for them to become involved. Abbo jumped at the chance.
Big Cat's small team – Abbo, co-owner Linda Obadiah, Frank Neidlich in marketing, and Jacqui Rice in press – did such a good job that the week it was released in Europe, Live at Sin-é sold over four thousand copies, which was amazing for a complete unknown.
After a Sony conference, where it was clear that a lot of the affiliates were bemused by him, Jeff had a warm-up show at Whelan's in Dublin. By the time he came on, the crowd, several drinks into its evening, had become a little boisterous. Jeff said hello softly, as usual, but no one was really paying attention. Jeff just stood there, waiting. People started to quieten down and watch to see what he would do. There was a pint of his favourite beer, Guinness, sitting on the stool next to him. Jeff lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one hit. Everyone on the room cheered, and he began the Irish show with the crowd completely on his side.
The audience was more blasé the next night at his London debut at The Borderline, a Western-themed venue under a dubious Mexican diner in Soho, right in the heart of London, a group of local reps for hip American indie labels like Sub Pop and Merge yacking away rather disrespectfully at the bar. In the age of grunge, a lone guy with a guitar softly singing Edith Piaf covers was baffling for some.
"It was an epiphany for me," says Sara Silver, Sony's European head of marketing. "There are some shows where it just feels like you're a voyeur, looking into someone's soul. This was one of those. He was charismatic, but also haunting, and I think because of my particular situation at the time, still suffering from the [loss of my husband], he resonated hugely. This haunting sound was a powerful force, and it was my job to work out how we took it to the world."
A gig the next night in Glasgow meant an early-morning flight back to Heathrow the following morning to catch a session with GLR, London's local BBC station, a slot designed to alert people to the next couple of gigs at the Garage in Islington and at Bunjies, a cute little basement folk club in Central London that dated back to the early 1960s and made Sin-é seem generously proportioned.
Abbo was accompanying Jeff on this run.
"We'd meet regularly at a bar called Tom & Jerry's in New York, hang out and drink Guinness together," Abbo says, "I suppose I became a friend of his, and he didn't seem to have many real friends. I'd only discovered I liked the blues since living in New York, so it was great hanging with him, because he was a huge blues and jazz fan and if there was a guitar around he had to pick it up and show off. He knew every Robert Johnson song, every Muddy Waters tune, Bessie Smith; he introduced me to the physicality of the blues, watching it at close quarters. Everybody talks about his voice, but he was a brilliant guitarist. The guitar was an extension of his body.
"Tim Buckley hadn't really entered my line of vision growing up listening to black music. Singer-songwriters with fluffy hairstyles were not currency on my council estate in Luton! We were in Tom & Jerry's and someone said to Jeff, 'I've been listening to your dad,' and I said, 'Who's your dad?' and he said, 'Tim Buckley.' I knew the name from record shopping; I'd seen the sleeves in the racks, but that's it. But when he came over to Britain there were loads of Tim Buckley fans. And it was a real problem early on, because he really didn't like talking about him."
The traffic from the airport to the GLR studios just off Baker Street was awful. A road accident had slowed everything to a standstill. Jeff's slot on the mid-morning show was fast approaching. "Of course, this was before mobile phones, so I had no way of communicating with the radio station that we were stuck in traffic," says Abbo. "For the last few days on this tour, everyone who'd interviewed Jeff had been asking about his dad. How did Tim write 'Song To The Siren'? Was there stuff in his lyrics that he might have related to? Things Jeff couldn't answer.
"We were listening to GLR while we waited in traffic and the presenter kept saying, 'We're supposed to have this artist, Tim Buckley's son, turning up, but he's late....Will he or won't he turn up?' This went on and on. She must have said 'Tim Buckley's son' about four times and didn't mention Jeff once. Suddenly, he just kicked my car radio in with his big DMs [Doc Martens], just smashed the fascia and then sat back sulking all the way there. I could get another radio, of course, but I was mostly worried he wasn't going to do the performance.
"We finally arrived about forty minutes late and they were all so rude to us, and yet they knew what the problem was, as they were broadcasting traffic updates and warnings of delays themselves. If I were him, I'd have walked out. The female presenter was a typical local radio DJ, a bit gushy and knew nothing about him and his music. I had a word with the station manager to ask her to stop mentioning Tim Buckley, and he handed her a note to that effect. Jeff just sat there silently and she said, 'What are you going to play?' and Jeff said, 'A song.' I'm thinking, 'Oh god, here we go.' And he started to play "Grace." He did this long guitar introduction, went on for about a minute, like he needed to calm himself down before he got to the actual start of the song, and then he launched into the most electrifying performance. The best I ever heard him do it.
"There were about six phones in the control room, and they all started lighting up. 'Who is this? Who is this? It's amazing!' And all the time, Jeff's getting more and more into it. The presenter went from being this standoffish woman to...I swear she would have thrown herself on him given half a chance, the second he finished singing. You could see she was totally enthralled."
Presenter: "You looked quite exhausted at the end of the song."
Jeff: "I was getting a lot of anger out. Something happened on the way here..."
"The phones didn't stop throughout the next song. The station manager said that in all his twelve years at the station, he'd never seen a reaction like it."
Abbo thinks this performance sparked Jeff's breakthrough. There were certainly plenty of people in line outside the Garage in North London that night. Inside, the first stars were taking note. Chrissie Hynde and Jon McEnroe were in the audience. Chrissie had been a big fan and a friend of Tim's, had actually interviewed him while she was briefly a music journalist with the NME, and she was obviously curious to see how his offspring compared. They struck up a conversation after the show and she clearly said the right thing, because he went off with her to jam with the Pretenders in a nearby rehearsal room. I wasn't carrying anything heavy because of a recent lung collapse, and I didn't want Jeff to pull any important muscles, so I asked McEnroe if he wouldn't mind. He happily hauled Jeff's amp downstairs to the car. The Pretenders' jam with special guests Buckley and Mac went on all night.
Bunjies, as I've said, was tiny, a basement folk club and coffee bar on West Street in Soho, along from the Ivy, with gingham tablecloths and melted candles in wine bottles on the tables and a performance area tucked into a couple of arches in what must have been a wine cellar at one point. It looked unchanged since it had begun in the early 1960s, and had seen a couple of folk booms come and go. It was more of a cafe with an open-mic policy by this point, which felt like a good place for Jeff. There wasn't really any need for amplification, so when we arrived for a sound check there was very little to do but see where Jeff was going to stand in the cramped space and gauge how his voice reflected off the nicotine-stained ceilings. While Jeff did that, I went outside for some fresh air and was stunned to see a line of people already waiting to get into the show.
I took a look at the guest list and realised we'd be lucky to fit twenty of this assembling crowd in the tiny space. Every time I looked up, the line was getting further down West Street. I went back into the venue and found Jeff talking to Emma Banks, the agent. He was saying how great the venue was and that he'd like to do something like hand out flowers to everyone before he went on.
"Jesus, you won't believe what's happening out there," I said to them. "The line goes about four blocks. There's no way these people are going to get in. Is there any way we can do two sets?" Jeff was happy to. Emma spoke to the club owner and was told they had some regular club night happening later on. She came back and said, "They can't do it but I've had an idea!" She disappeared up the steps onto the street, and I spoke to Jeff.
"What flowers would you like?"
"White roses," he said.
"I'll get them," I said, and went back up to the street, where the line had grown even longer.
I walked around looking for a florist and bumped into Emma. "I've booked Andy's Forge," she said. "It's a little place just around the corner in Denmark Street. He can go on at 10:30."
I bought as many white roses as I could find. Jeff handed them to people waiting outside and those lucky enough to get into the club, as he squeezed himself into the corner that passed for a stage. He sang upward, listening to his voice reflect off the curved ceiling into this hot, crowded, and attentive space. There must have been a hundred people stuffed in there.
When the show was over, Jeff walked up the steps to the huddle of patient people that Emma had gathered, plus anyone from the first show who wanted to tag along, and led this crowd like the Pied Piper toward Andy's Forge. Abbo was alongside me. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" I said.
"Never!" he said. And we laughed liked idiots at the wonderful absurdity of hanging out with Jeff.
Jim Irvin, 'From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye' (Post Hill), May 2018
Excerpted from Jeff Buckley: From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye by Jeff's former manager Dave Lory and former MOJO man Jim Irvin (Post Hill Press).
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