Chronicles from the Underworld (Lost in the Supermarket, Kultur Shock, and Another Little Sister)
20 Gennaio 2010
Another day wandering around – still not knowing what to do next months, and taking the day off to go shopping and then relaxing, as I needed to… Went to Tesco in the area of Hackney Central Station: “I’m lost in the supermarket / I can no longer shop happily”. Little differences for an anonymous non-place. I found my way by talking to people: “God gave us the tongue to be able to ask directions” – as I used to say to strangers on my first Inter-rail when I was 18, and everybody wondered how this young girl could feel home everywhere, even in perfectly unknown places.
I spent the evening watching with my flatmate (and landlord) “The Boat That Rocked” (on a big screen & videoprojection: sometimes is not bad to enjoy others’ richness!), a lovely good film, with an amazing sountrack, about the first free radios in UK in late 60s. Rebels, pirates – we keep on building on that, isn’t it? The last romantics…
Thuesday passed in writing emails to universities, then, in the evening, I eventually went to one of the best concerts I’ve seen the last years: Kultur Shock, playing at the Camden Underworld. The Underworld is a music club, in the basement of a tipical victorian building. A good band played as supporters, Drunken Balordi. Fine gipsy punk, slightly folk too, sometimes. But really good.
And then Kultur Shock went on stage. And their songs and attitudes are really engaging and immersive! Take a look at the video to have an idea of the two hours I had the pleasure and honour to join. The violinist was the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and the singer had such a powerful voice and shy attitude at the same time, that you felt like crying at the lyrics of their songs.
Little differences: people in Italy dance. With different styles, some being a real vision of beauty, some others making you smile as they still have to train – but yet, they all dance and move according to the rythm. Here none of the people of the audience could dance, not even move to the rythm. Running, punching, kicking or, less dangerously, simply jumping. No surprise that “the music of the people who couldn’t play” – the punk – was born here by these beat&melody unconscious people! But I’ve been told that *the norther people* (expecially the ones from the area of Liverpool or the ones who come from different areas of England and then joined together) are much better, ahahah!…
The concert ended at 11pm – quite surprising for me used to concerts beginning at that hour, but this meant no worries in coming back. Even when not knowing where the bus stop to come back was. I asked a little young girl with violet hair, piercings, black clothes, with the @ stuck everywhere on her light jacket. And she moved from her way to lead me to the right bus stop – walking in the coldness of this humid town. “Aren’t you cold?” I asked. “Yes” – she replied with a smile. We said goodbye at the bus stop, and she straight off kissed me on my cheeks. I will probably never see her again, but she is part of my personal beautiful world now – a sister, a mate, an ‘accomplice’ in making the *wider society* better, and more mutually supportive. So thanks, my dear: wish you to keep on behaving this way!