DAHLING: How do I begin to describe possibly the best night Ive ever spent in this crazy city? And how do I explain the significance of a little Belle and Sebastian tribute night to those of you who are lucky enough to have Belle and Sebastian as a casual part of everyday life - who hear their songs on the radio, in clubs, who spot other fans in the supermarket or at picnics? Well, Ive enlisted the help of my lovely fellow listee and partner in crime, Ms. Joan of Dark herself. Gosh, I think this might be my first post with actual content. Imagine. Lets begin. When I moved here four months ago I suspected I would be entering a musical wasteland devoid of indie activity. But I never expected that the sightings of corduroys and shaggy hair would be quite so few and far between. In fact, it took two months for me to see my first Greek punk among the masses of twiggy girls and slick boys in skin-tight spandex trousers or jeans, and I dont think I ever saw anyone of the romulan-haired or twee variety. The only half-way decent radio station still plays Slayer and Britney Spears in between the occasional Low and Tindersticks song. So imagine my surprise when my roommate ran in the front door Saturday waving a TimeOut-esque music listings magazine I had never seen before, pointing to a listing for a Belle and Sebastian night at a local club, organized by the bands official fan club, Wandering Days. WHAT? Athenian FAN CLUB??? Where the hell have the other Athenian Belle and Sebastian fans been hiding? As far as I knew there were only four or five other fans in the entirety of Greece. I suspected maybe there were a few more, but I sure as hell had no idea where to find them. And here they were, organizing an INDIE NIGHT! Insane! So I called Joanna immediately, of course. We made arrangements and before we knew it, we were meeting at a subway station, squealing in unconcealed glee. I actually believe Joanna was bouncing. I was too, inside. Outside, I was still a bit knackered from a week of entertaining my parents, but no lack of sleep or sanity would have kept me away. Oh no. I was fantasizing about this fabulous homey place where all these Greek indie kids would be floating around in a contented nirvana, meeting each other and having a generally fantastic time. And I would finally meet the elusive bunch of OTHER B&S FANS! We found our way to the club in the nearby university area, pressed up against the foot of one of the many hills of Athens. It was early yet. We peeked inside, but the place was pretty much empty. So we wandered for some water, returned, perched higher on the hill where we could keep the door in sight and watch for the first sight of OTHER B&S FANS. We sat for what seemed like an eternity along a wall near a smelly, overflowing dumpster (the trash workers were on strike last week), and gossiped a bit. Every time someone walked by we stopped talking and tried to assess - fan? Random schmuck? I think we were unclear as to what form a fan might take. Eventually we saw FOUR people enter at around 11 p.m. or so and we took it as our cue to go in ourselves. The club was quite cozy - a renovated old apartment with four rooms, one with a bar, where were promptly sat down. There were two girls in typical indie garb -old Johnny-collar t-shirts - manning the CD player. There were two older men sitting in front of them, chatting and sneaking looks at us. There was a group of three regular-looking twenty-somethings hidden away in the corner of another room. That was about it. For at least half an hour. Later, two other older men joined the crew. There was no B&S coming from the sound system. We sipped at our Amstel and Gin and Tonic very slowly, thinking perhaps we had mixed up the dates or something. But we spotted a B&S postcard, and later a bag of badges. Joanna got up the courage to approach the DJ girls and talk to them while I was on my mobile, and she came back with badges and two fan club sign-up forms. People started to trickle in while we racked our brains on the question: Other favorite bands. Other bands? What? Theres more than B&S? Oh, right. Ha! The Stars of Track and Field came on and we called the esteemed Mr. Chu to squeal inaudibly and listen to his lovely accent. We moved to another room, where we sat in a dark corner watching an older gay man in a bright orange t-shirt pace in and out about 50 times in a very strange and amusing way. A few other people came in and went to the bar. Things were not looking encouraging. No one was mingling. There was hardly any B&S being played. In between the occasional B&S song was spattered a completely random array of music, most of which I had never heard. It certainly did not sound very B&S-esque. We agreed we would make much better DJs. Eventually, we decided to make a fateful trip back to the bar. When we did, we saw all these people that had somehow managed to sneak past us, even though we had been staring directly at the door for an hour. Among them was a guy Joanna vaguely knew from university. There were a few speedy introductions to his big group of friends, and within minutes, we were swallowed up into them. Two insane members of this group, one with an enormous head of fuzzy hair and goggling eyes that concocted in the strangest expressions, took it upon themselves to entertain me. One put an arm around me and led me into the other room, where he went off on a five-minute tirade about a philosophy he had just developed about the individualism of language and communication, and its impact in an international climate of change or something like that. The other then stole me away and started using big words ending in -ation. It was a little dance that was repeated over and over again all night. STACEY! one would begin, head leaning forward in what I assumed - and hoped - was a drunken stupor, come HERE, what are you doing there alone! Let me tell you about our cooperation in this evil battle against Bin Laden. Come, dance. Joanna, what are you DOING? They were clearly mad. But entertaining. At this point, we had to move to another room because the group was growing in size and activity and could not be contained at the bar. Joanna was also getting pulled away randomly by other members of the group, and she would turn around occasionally to make sure I wasnt being carried off somewhere. She would come over, laughing hysterically, offering to rescue me as I got led by both arms in circles, sets of slurring lips pressed to each ear, listening to some insane story about Greek gospel singers. I believe the dancing began in earnest shortly thereafter. The two crazy boys obviously also had crazy dances as well, which I managed to avoid. In fact, I managed to avoid most dancing for awhile. We were quite a scene, we were. And it was just so silly that I didnt even care. The crazy boys made the place seem so much less intimidating. Eventually, after another drink and a few especially fantastic songs, I joined Joanna on the dance floor. Joanna, by the way, is quite a dancer. Adorable, as always. She had quite a few fans, I dare say. But Ill return to that later. It was much fun. I believe I even did the Molly Ringwald. Yup. And whenever a B&S song was played, Joanna and I would bounce about singing every lyric. Actually, heres the semi-disappointing thing, we were the ONLY ones singing every lyric. And people were staring at us in wonder, and I dont think it was just because we were with this big wacky group and were the only ones dancing. They seemed intrigued and maybe impressed at our lyrical knowledge. Hmm. So maybe we didnt really see any big fans after all. But it didnt matter. Eventually, the crazy boys left, and we danced with other boys in the group, including two cuties - one who was moving to Wales the very next day, go figure. Other boys also joined the dancing. Among them was a group of indie boys who looked like they walked straight off the pages of MOC! Joanna spoke to one, who she had seen earlier on the subway and was convinced would be there. It was so much fun! Can I say that enough? No. I guess it should be said here that we were the only two girls dancing, which may explain the following. But perhaps not. A sketchy older man entered the club - there always has to be one, eh - and quickly stationed himself very close to Joanna. He was STARING in a very lecherous way, and following her around. Ack! He later approached us as we took a break near a window. Belle and Sebastian is a very good group, no? Is your friend from somewhere else? Where? (Was I that obviously a foreigner? Maybe it was the dancing. Or the crazy English rants of my insane new pals.) Joanna tried to be as rude as possible and he left. But he returned later to tell her she was the pop girl, and he would writer her a poem! My god. It was a very strange poem, of course. The guy was obviously COMPLETELY out of it. He later decided that dancing in a very strange way by himself in the middle of our dance floor was the way to our hearts. Right. Anyway, the whole incident made us bond that much more with our new group of friends. And we danced some more, until it was nearly 4 a.m. when Joanna really had to go. But I think we both could have stayed there, dancing. The boys escorted us out and partly home. We exchanged email addresses with one of the cuties, and were invited out again next Sunday for post modern night or something. We floated the rest of the way in a giddy state, agreeing that it was the most fun either of us has had in a long while. Okay, Im going to shut up now and send this along to Joanna so she can get a word or two in. Maybe, if youre extra nice, shell share the contents of her lovely poem. Hehehe.
JOAN OF DARK: ...so hear goes my bit....although i am well aware of the length of this post and that prolly even the few people that have managed to reach this point they'll abandon the ship this very moment.... "Thou Art The PoP gIrL And I Shalt Write You A Poem" these are the very words of the nobly drunk and hallucinating probably 40 something weirdo that approached me last night at Decadence and whispered them with a silly grin in my ear as i was dancing my brains out.... "HuH??" you 'll say, and this is what i said too.... " I shall write a poem for you cos the way you dance is an inspiration for everybody in this room..."<----weirdo "Huh Huh??????" <----me so he withdraws and scribbles something on a scrap of paper... after a while and while i was sitting, exchausted on the floor he came again and proudly gave me his work of art.... (please keep in mind that this is a product of severe alcoholism, overdose of drugs and long term sexual deprivation) "You move enormously(???) and your eyes dance graceously like the lull of the nettle's earrings swinging in the breeze but when on the grass you sleep, your beloved with poppies drip droplets of sweat and cigarettes(joints perhaps??)hover in the air like butterflies...." ....surrealism....ouch!..... so i said thanks mate , besides this is the first time i am the muse of an artist of such intellect...... last night i rediscovered the art and pleasure of Dancing. Oh Dog...havent danced in like months and now i went for straight 4 nonstop hours of PoP surrounded by cuuute boys in striped shirts...*giggle* dancing pop and tango and twist and shake , even the Indian Rain Dance.... How legs flow on the dance floor, how the body glides and slides between the auras and fluorescent glow of other dancers. When you half close your eyes and you get high on Pure Music when the last fibre of your body gets synchronised....and when you concentrate on that pair of eyes in front of you and the whole world spins around you....the whole world revolves around the mirrorball..... this morning the songs of belle and sebastian did not sound the same on my headphones....they were different..they had swollen and had risen from their humbleness....they were blasted on speakers last night and filled time and space on a 4x5 dancefloor Belle and sebastian were not a figment of my imagination. A whispered secret. A complex ideology, hard to explain. They were walking proudly down the street in my head, chins up! And Stacey, my lovely Stacey , that underwent the Indian dance of rain with the loony guys and all the pulling around, finally i managed to prove to her that Athens was not just what looks like to the casual onlooker...there is something different deep down..not just tight trousers and dyed hair...as the fuzzyhairybrain guy wxclaimed last night improvising a rap song: "STACEY STAY!!!!" Btw: she's such a pleasant and happy person that can take away all your troubles with just one look of her gorgeous eyes.... i prolly dont make much sense..but for once in my life i am truly exilerated...really happy...*joanna is bouncing on her chair* sorry for the tremendous lenght of this...for any psychological traumas it might have caused you....in any case yer all invited to the post-podern night at Decadence club, Voulgaroktonou + Poulxerias 69 next Sunday around midnight!! ta ra! Stacey + Joan PS:And Mr Brierley Random, since you got a mobile, high time you messaged (or massaged, it's all the same) me dont you think?
===== Stacey Shackford Amoriou 14-16 112 51 Athens, GREECE +30 97 328 9719 www.geocities.com/dahling007
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