Sunday, September 12, 2010
Over the years I seem to have made an accidental habit of ending up at gigs I had no interest in attending, and whilst most of these have been miserable affairs (yes I'm talking about you Fields Of The Nephilim) every now and again I have ended up thoroughly enjoying myself.
The Band Of Holy Joy was one such occasion, dragged along by someone (probably Woody) because there was literally nothing better to do - I had heard a couple of their singles and not been hugely impressed, but live they totally blew me away.
Often lazily described as an English Pogues, they did indeed play more traditional folk instruments but they were a lot more esoteric in their song-writing. It was a far cry from the indie guitar bands of the time, in fact probably the only band I saw at The Duchess Of York that didn't have a guitar player
The singer was an intense young chap and the last song they played was delivered with such emotion that it was hard not to love it.
I'd always assumed this was about Marilyn Monroe but is apparently about a Monroe impersonator who mirrored her idol so closley that she even died the same way and at the same age. Quite a sad song then. But a good one..
Band Of Holy Joy - Bitten Lips