Elvis Perkins at the Borderline (no relation to Dorothy)

Yaz and I have been to a lot of gigs recently. A LOT. Of gigs. We've totally become gig whores (Yaz especially - I'll get to that), but that's OK because at least we're not wandering the streets happy-slapping old people and hobos (save that for the weekend). Anyway, last night we toddled off to see Elvis Perkins play at the Borderline in London.

Now, regular readers (I know there's one of you) will recall that we've actually already seen Elvis (Perkins, not Presley - let's get that one done straight away) this year - back in May when he supported Willy Mason. Yaz was quite smitten by his rockabilly ways, while I was slightly less enamoured. But seeing as I drag Yaz to every gig I want to go to, I figured it was only fair I go to this one with her (aren't I nice?). Plus, it was only a tenner: bonus.

The evening did not start well - we failed to secure our regular seats: OK, we've actually only been to the Borderline once before (to see Josh Pyke), but we're creatures of habit, and we wanted those seats. That and the fact that there are only, like, five seats in the Borderline anyway. That being the case, we lurked threateningly behind the ladies who had gotten there before us; our threat rating diminshed, however, when Yaz got chatting to them (obviously never learnt the wisdom of stranger danger).

There were two support acts. The first was a lady called Farah Naz, who was apparently doing the gig at a moments notice but was nevertheless quite cool, and was pretty good. I'll remember her performance for another reason entirely though; between songs she made a remark about the crappy weather we're having, and some loudmouth behind me shouted something, admittedly not offense, back at her. She then turned to me and basically asked me a question about the weather – to which I just stared at her for a bit, then shrugged my shoulders and screwed my face up like I was suffering from spontaneous constipation or something. Fortunately, she swiftly moved onto another song. Anyway, she's playing the Bush Hall (stop laughing at the back) in a couple of weeks so I might go check her out again if I've got nothing better to do.

Next up was a band called The Wallbirds. Oh. My. God. Absolute REVELATION, people. This band was AWESOME. Really, really, funkin' good. They were brilliant to watch, played superbly, and had some fantastic songs. So good, in fact, that I bought one of their CDs; it was three quid, and was clearly burned off their computer pre-gig because it's a bog-standard recordable CD onto which they've handwritten their name and drawn their little logo. I don't care, though, because I think this band are going to be HUGE, and I've got a souvenir of when they weren't. I absolutely want to see them again VERY SOON. Note how I'm using CAPS to EMPHASIZE how much I LIKED THEM.

(Oh yes - Yaz as a slut. Right, well I asked her to pick me up the CD on her way back from the loo, which she did - but it took about 15 minutes. I was beginning to think she'd gone home. But no, she 'bumped' into The Wallbirds and ended up 'chatting' to them. They're 'lovely,' apparently. Slut)

And then we got to Elvis Perkins. It was a throughly enjoyable set, but after The Wallbirds - and I'll be brutally honest here - it didn't really do too much for me. Isn't that rude? I'm basically saying that Elvis was outdone by his support. Gosh. Anyway, he is very good, and I think you should check him out (I'm listening to his myspace as I type, and am quite enjoying it), but I probably wouldn't rush out to see him play live again. Plus he had a safety pin holding his flies shut; the spotlights kept shining off it and drawing my attention to it, which was disturbing. Anyway here's an obligatory youtube vid (stupid me didn't get one of The Wallbirds!):


Also, check this out - Yaz popped outside for a ciggie, and they stamped her arm.

They branded her a freakin' sample!