The Winks at the Railway

...in which the Winks discover a new sort of professionalism, and, under Tyr's lead (since it was Tyrsday), call slightly short a set of not particularly engaged (but perfectly acceptible, professional) renditions of their songs, since, I'm guessing:

a) there were only 25 people in the audience at the Railway to begin with
b) 10 of them were there for the alcohol and wouldn't notice anyhow
c) of their fans, one of them (guess which) was getting kinda drunk too
d) one of the other drunks (with whom I shared my hickory sticks) was shouting non sequiturs about Phil Spector (and sometimes dancing -- not badly, actually, compared to other Drunk Guys Dancing that I've seen, but still...) (Trivially, he later claimed to be recording with Buddy Miles).
d) ...and, I mean, they're going to Australia anyhow, and really don't NEED to impress 25 people at the Railway tonight. Really. As an ESL teacher, I know. There are some classes where I just don't get that enthusiastic myself, knowing there will be classes in the future. Like on the 13th, at Blim. I plan to be there.

Really, it was a fun set. I listened to their drummer, Paul, more carefully and decided that a buddy of mine who didn't like him at a previous gig was kinda WRONG; I liked what he did, it fit perfectly. (I got into a pee race with him in the men's room later, but that's a whole other story). Plus tonight was good in that I was moved to meditate for awhile on the line "the uniform fits my head like a monarch's tie," which reminded me of the following passages I'd been reading earlier from Jacques Attali's Noise: A Political Economy of Music:

All music, any organization of sounds is then a tool for the creation or
consolidation of a community, of a totality. It is what links a power center to
its subjects, and thus, more generally, it is an attribute of power in all its
forms... Everywhere we look, the monopolization of the broadcast of messages, the
control of noise, and the institutionalization of the silence of others assure
the durability of power... The monologue of standardized, stereotyped music
accompanies and hems in daily life in which in reality no one has the right to
speak anymore. Except those among the exploited who can still use their
music to shout their suffering, their dreams of the absolute and freedom.

(Italics mine). Really, I don't know if that's what the band was thinking of, but that's how it felt at the moment, eating my hickory sticks, drinking my Grasshopper, and nodding my head like a drunk to the music. As the drunk guy beside me danced and felt sorry for Phil Spector, and I drank and felt sorry for myself (it had been a slightly painful day).

Finally got me a Winks T-shirt, tho'! Thanks, Tyr! And black is the perfect colour for me! Have fun in Australia! I'll e-mail my friend there about you...!