An evening in the charming company of Amanda F***ing Palmer and her ukulele
I actually wrote this blog post late on Monday night, but thanks to the unpredictable nature of web editing, the whole thing disappeared in mid-edit. Whilst mustering the energy to start again from scratch, who should pop-up on my iPod but the Dresden Dolls. Considering I have over 5,000 songs, and it is set to random, I took this as a sign to finish what I had started.
This Monday saw a performance from Amanda F***ing Palmer to a full house of her loyal and adoring fans in the intimate setting of British Library conference centre. With the exception of a couple of songs played on an electronic piano, AFP accompanied herself with a ukulele and mandolin.
She was also joined on stage for a couple of songs by new husband Neil Gaiman, who just happens to be an award winning science fiction writer, and who surprisingly hails from my home town of East Grinstead. Neil also gave a talk earlier in the day as part of our excellent Out of this World science fiction exhibition (which closes on 25 September).
I have to admit to not being aware of what I now understand is the cult of AFP, before Monday, so like any good librarian did a bit of desk research. I discovered she has performed as a solo performer, the driving voice of The Dresden Dolls, the Emcee in Cabaret, and as half of the conjoined-twin folk duo Evelyn Evelyn. And that her approach to clothes seems to be āless is moreā. So I was somewhat surprised by her initial rather prim and proper outfit (below).
However, it did not take long for her to revert to her more ātraditionalā attire of basque and suspenders (below with Neil Gaiman).
(Many thanks to Hannah Daisy for allowing me to use her wonderful photos of the evening.)
Although Amandaās cabaret style of music is not normally my cup of tea, I was really impressed by her intelligent lyrics, humour and emotional depth.
The only slight niggle from the eveningās entertainment was the swearing. Now donāt get me wrong, I am not easily offended by rude words, and of course AFPās stage name gives something of a clue to what might be expected at her shows. But I am now rather bored by the number of visitors to the British Library who seem to think that swearing in such an august institution is terribly naughty, and so irresistibly cool.
My first encounter with the f-word at the Library was back in 1997, courtesy of James Brown founder of Loaded Magazine, and perhaps not so surprising given his role as father of the āLads magā. You can still see him in action on our YouTube channel.
Perhaps both could be excused because this was how they expressed their great passion for their business activities.
However, the same cannot be said of comedy veteran Arthur Smith, who during his set at Whatās So Funny @ British Library last January, lead a rousing chorus of āI am the Mayor of Balham / oh yes I f***ing am / I am the Mayor of Balham / I f***ing f***ing amā
I could see he was positively revelling in his ārebelliousā swearing.
So, Iām afraid on Monday I refused to sing along when Amanda asked us to yell āf*** itā, in response to prompting during her performance of Map of Tasmania. Although, from the sound of it, I was probably the only one not joining in.
The evening wasnāt all swearing however, and including a surprisingly warm mention of my local (and rather dull) town of Crawley, for being the home-town of Robert Smith founder of 80ās pop band The Cure.
I canāt wait to see what surprises the Library will throw up next.