It has been oh-so gently pointed out to me (thank you, DB) that I did actually promise to post a series of photos from Majorca here. So, I remedy that now. It was actually such a pleasure looking over the wider selection, particularly as the trip was so idyllically work-free, in distinctly sharp contrast to now. Not that I am complaining, rather things are as they should be, which is wonderful. Still, the blue skies and warm oceans feel a world away as brown leaves sweep along the Fulham pavements I inhabit at this moment in time...
So here are a few memories - a blast of Summer on an Autumn day - some are cheeky shots taken of handsome strangers - particularly number three, which I just could not resist - others are just funny moments. The one that is all sparkly and white and pink is of a place where they harvest salt for cookery. In fact it's quite well known and fancy. Sold in Fortnums, dontchaknow.
The penultimate one is actually me, staring out to sea. Feels rather odd looking at that again, clad in knitwear.
That's the door to the bar at the Connaught Hotel in thrillingly expensive Mayfair. I was wandering round that part of town on Saturday morning ogling stilettoes in Louboutin... and doing a bit of weekend work for a client of mine who just opened a store in that neighbourhood (true story!). A domain of the super-rich, it is the land the credit crunch cannot touch - if the fully-booked tables at Scotts were anything to go by.
The weekend work I was doing involved taking photos of the new store and rolling round on the pavement to try and get the perfect angle to flatter the comparatively small space. Given the high polish of the glass and other fittings, obviously the reflection was almost as important as the objects in the window. However, given the buildings and stores on the other side of the street were so totally beautiful, this was more help than hindrance. The best part? I was paid not in dreary money but by picking something from the store - a divine thrill. It did mean I got to wander through the new Dunhill concept with the ultimate accessory - a freshly filled designer shopping bag. Those store bitches treat you a whole different way if they think you're not just a browser.
That Madonna, she'll work hard for you, but she wants a little something in return. It's give and take with her - and the concert she gave at Wembley Stadium last Thursday was true to form. I had seen that Kylie extravaganza at the beginning of last month which was bigger, brassier and bolder than anything the pint-size Aussie had attempted before and wondered - post-Confessions Tour, post-Hard Candy, was Madonna going to match up? Had Kylie's fun factor taken a hop, skip and a jump ahead and stolen a march on the Queen? They would seem to be on a level playing field in many ways since the over-riding theme of Madonna's last two albums has been to go back to the beginning and insist she just wants to have a good time to a disco beat. Would Madonna's ticket prices feel worth the cash?
It's pretty easy to answer: like it or not, Madonna has history on her side both in terms of her own musical back catalogue and age - she gives a performance of substance. There's a seriousness there, both in intent and theme. Would Kylie ever give a rallying environmental, political or religious call to arms as Madonna did? No. Maybe it's a personal preference, but wrapping her songs around this has given her shows a backbone that Miss Minogue probably wisely shies away from. The one thing they do have in common is that their performances are great lumbering roadshows. There exists precious little scope for improvisation with the choreography, vast video extravaganzas, tightly rehearsed band and dancers. Even Madge's 'request' section was a toss-up between a carefully planned Like a virgin and Express yourself. That's not to do either show down, just an observation.
My gays and I were in the Golden Circle at Wembley Stadium. We had come by tickets via a carefully trodden path of preparation and inside knowledge. We knew what tickets we wanted and how to get them. And we were very fortunate. The Golden Circle was a free-wheeling, easy-going, chilled-out front-and centre semi circle of Madge obsession. The people behind the barriers were crushed like battery hens around Gwyneth, Fergie and Kate Hudson. We were not - even when the great diva arrived, forty minutes late, we weren't uncomfortable. Incidentally, yes she was late, no I didn't really notice. Once you've waited for Amy Winehouse, anything else seems like a idle dawdle. But the ramifications of this small delay set in motion events which ended up ultimately spoiling the evening - but more of that in a moment.
What of her performance? The show? Well, it was blistering. I'll say up front I preferred the Confessions Tour, but then that album is much better than 'Hard Candy'. Overall I felt the set list would have done with a light tinker. It would not have hurt to have skipped 'The beat goes on', 'Human nature' and 'Spanish lesson' and dropped in 'Get together' and perhaps a couple of hits like 'Secret' and 'Keep it together' to fit with the R&B theme of the recent record. But oddly enough, even the songs I was not so keen on from the new album came across incredibly well. A combination of bold staging, great choreography (though we felt Madge was keeping her own powder a little drier than in the last couple of outings, she is a venerable age these days, after all) meant they had an oomph and presence lacking on record. And if that could be achieved for the likes of 'She's not me', the welly and wow-factor it gave the better new songs, particularly 'Devil wouldn't recognize you' was startling.
Highlights were 'Devil', a synthy, singalong 'Into the groove', the gritty, guitar-driven 'Borderline', the flame-swirled, remixed 'Like a prayer', a faultless 'Ray of light', the gypsy re-upped 'La Isla Bonita' and the barnstorming finale of 'Give it 2 me'. Wait, that's quite a few highlights. And I've not even mentioned the wonderful stab at 'Miles away', the stunning visuals of intertwining, self-weaving lace behind 'Vogue' and bouncy 'Heartbeat'. Gripes? 'Vogue' did sound a bit like it was being done by numbers - plus, I didn't like the 'tick tock's from '4 minutes' jabbed in there. 'Hung up' with guitar and precious little Abba was ruined and miserable... and though beautifully sung, 'You must love me' stuck out like a sore thumb. But I am grabbing at straws.
She was gone very suddenly. But that's her way these days and she has earned the right to do whatever she pleases. It only remained to head for the tube and home. But! Not so fast! In fact, not at all! Remember that 40-minute delay? It put the kibosh on my trip down the Metropolitan line. Together with another seven thousand (that's an official figure!) people, my coach turned into a pumpkin and the tube was closed at the stroke of midnight leaving me and some Grand Gays stranded in hateful late-night Middlesex. It was vile. Girls in you-regret-those-now stilletoes teetered around in circles. Desperate gays, drowning in the deep end of their comfort zones, looked pale and miserable. Police men on horseback, in a part of London they neither knew of nor cared to, looked on nervously lest a riot erupt. One of our party speed-dialed a car company who, scenting blood on the wind, quoted the first number that came into their heads. Eighty pounds to get to Clapham - that is US$130 or so - but there was no other way out, with bus stops clogged and roads jammed to prevent any kind of route anyway. There may be shivering Madge fans still there as far as I know. But guiding him in using iPhone GPS - every technology at our disposal was ruthlessly deployed - our car turned up, we paid the money and got home - eventually. Somehow we made it through the wilderness, somehow we made it through.
Madonna Devil wouldn't recognize you (live in Cardiff)
Before we know where we are, we'll be having Guy Fawkes fireworks BBQ food...
Alright, I am back. Two weeks' wonderful holiday, then a week of total insanity catching up. Now, I am hoping, things will take a more even keel. In terms of keeping this blog updated, it didn't particularly help that while I was away, I didn't have the cable to link camera to laptop plus every day had demanding clients wanting things. That, plus a dial-up connection and guests to entertain meant something had to give.
Excuses over.
Despite (or because) the fact that rain lashes my window panes and my hand hovers gently over the central heating thermostat wondering whether to put it or a winter wooly on, I am going to post a few of my Majorca photos over the next week or two in a vague and unrealistic attempt to conjure pure sunglight out of my computer screen. It's something of a long-shot, really.
In many ways, it's a good time to look forward, rather than wish I was elsewhere. The Autumn is a time I usually associate with renewal, as I have discussed before, so perhaps it's a good time to write a list of things that are good about the next four months rather than wallow in the negativity of the end of holidays and summer.
List. - Madge on Thursday at Wembley - Friend MS flying over from the US to come with me, and staying a few days - Will Young album (saw him on Thursday at Sadler's Wells, looking yummy) - Keane - Week to New York at the end of November - Friend SW coming to visit from South Africa at the end of the month - Roesheeeeeeeeeeen, Coldplay and Goldfrapp en concert
Hmm, I'm running out of ammunition here.
Just going to crack on, I think.
Christian Falk featuring Robyn and Ola Salo Dream on
