How to be a Punk Rock Girl...

So I might seem the most unlikely suspect to blog about being a Punk Rock Girl - I wear dresses every day, I love Dolly Parton, I recently blogged about a cupcake tour of London... these things are NOT the stereotype of what a Punk Rock Girl is, right?

But I think being a Punk Rock Girl comes in many guises... it's having a rebel yell in your heart, it's the smoking-behind-the-bleachers attitude that never leaves you (even if you don't smoke - p.s. E-cigs are not punk rock!), it's drinking cava in the park even though it's against the law because it's a silly law on the hottest day of the year.  It's telling it like it is even if it's hard to say.

A Punk Rock Girl is an outsider, she plays by her own rules.  That's not to say she's a baddy.  Punk Rock Girls can have good manners too.  I.e. if someone's glasses fall off in the mosh pit you help them find their specs.  That's just common pit etiquette!

A Punk Rock Girl has an adventurous & curious spirit and will try most anything once.  She has a strong sense of self and doesn't need to be told what to do or how to do it.  She forges her own path, even if it is the road less travelled.

So in that sense ladies and gents, I am a Punk Rock Girl.  I do my indie thing and embrace new experiences with a sense of wonder.  I find solidarity in my fellow riot grrrls and sense a new wave of feminism is upon us.  One where the Punk Rock Girls will lead the way and I mean Punk Rock in the broadest & most inclusive sense... (p.s. you can be a Punk Rock Guy too).

I'm going to leave you now with The Dead Milkmen enjoy!  And hey, do something a little crazy, something you've never done before, something a little out of your comfort zone.  I dare you...

xx
P

A Cupcake Tour of London - bon appétit!

As I type this I'm aware that this is possibly my twee-est blog topic... but if knowing is half the battle, then I'm halfway there, right?

My dear friend Katrin, some might remember her as 'The German One' from The Schla La Las.  If you don't remember who The Schla La Las are, we were a blip on the London art-rock scene a few years ago, here we are on youtube, see?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jDI6oUkudw


Anyway, I digress... so Katrin kindly took me on this cupcake tour of London, it was a touristy sort-of outing.  I so rarely stop to enjoy the city I live in.  I'm always too busy rushing around, trying to take over the world!  So it was a much needed day out.



Here she is with a miniature cupcake at Lorraine Pascale's Cupcake Bakehouse in Covent Garden

We then went to the famous French macaroonerie Ladurée of which there are 2 in London and yes, we went to them both!

Our charming Scottish tour guide took us down the real alleyway that inspired Diagon Alley from the Harry Potter Books, which was conveniently near Sweet Coutoure


We walked through China Town and I was disappointed we didn't stop at any of the odd Chinese bakeries, but I can always go back to China Town.



We passed through Soho and our tour guide told us all sorts of facts about the old Soho, the new Soho and some of the rock 'n' rollers that passed through the historic region over the years.

We had more cupcakes at The Hummingbird Bakery which never disappoints.

Then we had more sweet treats, this time macaroons, at a blue place that looks like an Aquarium and these may have been the favourite sweet treats of the day in my book!  But this is not the end of our sugary plight.




We crossed Soho to Patisserie Valerie for more French fancies and then headed to Savile Row to see where The Beatles did their famous roof-top gig.

(Apparently, it's possible
to get a vegetarian version,
but I'm not very desperate
to try one.)

Last but not least we went to Fortnum and Mason which was established in 1707 and takes credit for inventing the Scotch Egg.

As a vegetarian, I have never tried a Scotch Egg.  For the fellow Americans of you, dear readers, I will explain that a Scotch Egg is  a hard boiled egg covered in sausage meat and breadcrumbs and then baked.  Sort of weird, huh?  But normal if you grew up over here in the UK post-1707.


We then bid our lovely Scottish host Adieu and hopped in a black cab for a sugar-fuelled adventure, an adventure for another blog post, as this is getting lengthy.  If you want to see more photos of our culinary adventures, the cakes we ate are all here for you to see...

https://www.flickr.com/photos/88986055@N00/sets/72157643524024644/

Meanwhile, don't forget to take some time out and enjoy the cake, the scenery, or whatever takes your fancy.  Bon appétit!

xx
Piney

Tube Strikes = Lord of the Flies

Those of you who have not lived in a large metropolis might find the issue of a tube strike un-relatable.  But to those of you who do, you will know just how our 'survival of the fittest' instincts start to kick in.  I think there's a kind of fight-or-flight reaction to it.

I am a flight person, i.e. I want to stick to the walk-able distances from my house and work from home and let the world duke it out.  But sometimes that's not possible... I.e. my day job seems to have a more 'bums on seats' mentality.  A lot of places do, spurring a cold, hard case of presentee-ism.

So, I made it... schlepping from a corner of North East London to a corner of South West London, I wasn't sure I would make it, but here I am.  And for those of you (Kansas City, home-town friends I'm looking at you) who have never experienced this, this is what it feels like...

This scene from Godzilla (1998) is not far
off from today's commuter experience

Leaving the house, the streets were overcrowded with grumpy people, late, in a hurry, rushing, and tutting when someone crosses their path.  Hostility fills the air like a thick funky fog.  There are people in suits with briefcases literally running.  There is no point hailing a cab, traffic isn't moving.  I'm not sure how to sum this up really, but if you've ever seen that film where Godzilla is crushing New York and people are running around all crazy while traffic is in a state of grid-lock, then you're not far off.

Luckily there was still a skeletal tube system on offer, slow and intermittent, overcrowded like the typical sardine-can metaphor.

I was lucky enough to get a seat, but ended up sitting next to a guy who actually urinated on the floor whilst sitting next to me (and yes, I was fast to pick my pink leather bag up off of the tube floor) the miniature yellow rivers trickling ever-closer to my suede, ankle boots; smells filtering through the carriage.  Good morning, Britain!

The mile-or-so walk from West Brompton involved, getting totally lost, stumbling onto a construction site in conjunction with icy gales of wind hailing South from the Scottish Highlands.  Oh to be indoors sipping Scotch and nibbling shortbread next to a fireplace with a hound at my feet.

This man looks very pleased
to be cooking me up for dinner

The tube strike brings out a real animal quality in people, snarling for space, pushing their way through with a sense of self-importance.  It clashes with the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do to you."

If Tube Strike = Lord of the Flies then I'm yesterday's BBQ.
xx
P

Sometimes it’s good to remember where you are from.

This lesson has taken me a while to learn.

When I left Kansas City I felt like I couldn't get far enough away.  That’s not a bad slant on Kansas City… K.C. is an awesome place to be from & a great city.  I had to grow up somewhere and I would have wanted to flee wherever I was from; that’s my nature to explore the exotic… So I went as far away as I could think to go.  London, England.  And here I am; lately I’m feeling a sense of nostalgia.  Maybe it’s the long winter nights giving me too much time to think… this heightened nostalgia could be a result of social networks like Facebook and Twitter and Instagram.  There are always reminders of old school friends; it’s so simple to be a part of someone’s daily life by scrolling through their Instagram profile, or to get a little banter going on Twitter that you would otherwise have had to plan a long distance phone call, write a letter or compose a thought-out e-mail to achieve.  Technology has connected me to my roots, and now that I’ve been far away for a while… I miss it!  Dorothy Gale had it right when she said, “There’s no place like home.” 

Dorothy Gale & Toto

I’m just not sure where home really is.  The only constant place in my memory is my grandparents' farm in Wisconsin… surrounded by forest, sometimes we’d spot a wintry wolf on the trail of a fat wild turkey; in the summer if the wind was right, we could hear the Dixieland jazz coming from the river boat cruises on the Mississippi River.  But Kansas City’s different from that, it’s more cosmopolitan yet still with a friendly Midwest sensibility: there are kitsch cafes, vintage shops, velvet lounges, red-neck bars, cool little art galleries, the jazz district at 18^th and Vine, and diners!  24-hour diners where you could get a grilled cheese after a night out and all the freaky people would be there downing pancakes and fried fancies at 4:00 AM debriefing the evening's events with friends, waitresses never stop pouring coffee top-ups and driving home when the sun came up.  I miss that!

That being said, I love London; it’s a vibrant city full of culture, bursting with creativity, and plenty of quirk and glamour.  These things are what drew me here.  I’m also a big fan of vintage detective mysteries like Poirot and Sherlock Holmes, but that could be a topic for another blog.  Having been in London for over a decade now, I have a lot of good friends; like a second family.  I have career opportunities, creative outlets, constant cultural stimulus… I can’t complain.  I came here and I ‘made-it’ for lack of a better word.  But it’s funny how the grass can start to seem greener on the other side of the pond.

This photo was taken in Kansas City by Nate K.

It makes you ask yourself what ‘home’ means.  Is it where you are from?  Is it where you are now?  Is it where you are going?  Or is it simply where the heart is? 

One thing is for sure… I’m not in Kansas anymore.

xx P

p.s. Yes I have the sparkly red shoes
and no, they do not work… 

My New Mission & Golders Green

Hello Readers

I am on a mission to rediscover London.  After living here for over a decade now, I find myself in patterns and ruts adhering to the daily grind… cramming in studio time, gigs, videos and all the busy Piney stuff on top of work work work.  It's a viscous cycle and if I don't do something to break that pattern I will soon be mayor of Burn Out City. 

So, I have made a list of cool stuff to do in London to remind me why I live here.

Because we all know London is one of the finest cities in the world, right?  There is the best theatre, modern dance, art galleries, music of all types, fashion shows, pop up restaurants, cocktail clubs with secret doorbells, tranny bars in Soho, foodie markets, dog beauty contests, kitsch bowling and indie discos alongside the Royal Opera House and Shakespeare's Globe… every night one is spoiled for choice, able to do just about anything at any time (apart from ordering blueberry pancakes at 3AM - if anyone finds a place like that in London, please let me know!)

Anyway, it is so easy to find oneself suffering from tunnel vision; when all we see is what we already do as a course of habit.  It can be a real drag, the same-o/same-o, and one could forget why we chose to live in The Old Smoke in the first place.

… and so I've made a list, because I don't want to lose sight of why I live here, that it's not just about paying bills and cramming in as much work as possible.  It can also be about the good stuff.  I need to make time for the good stuff.

Now, my idea of the good stuff might be different from yours… but join me on my 'Rediscovering London' Mission if you wish, and feel free to post your ideas on this here blog forum.  Thanks!

Today, I went to explore a part of London that I've never been to before.  Golders Green.  Golders Green is historically Jewish - popping up as a London suburb in the 1800s or so… though it is more diverse in these modern times, there's still a hub of kosher delis, bakeries and shops.  Some local attractions tend to be closed on Saturday (the Sabbath) so bear that in mind if you're planning a trip to G.G.

This zone 3, North London destination may not be everyone's cup of tea.  However, I had a fantastic time exploring.  I browsed the many charity shops (there are so many, that I lost count!) charity shop staff was quirky and attentive, prices were very reasonable and there was a good mixture of genuine vintage and designer labels as well as your typical discarded Top Shop and Primark fare; I bought a few Christmas presents (yes I always start early with that kind of thing) and enjoyed whiling away the afternoon on the little high street there.

I went to the Paradise Bakery and bought a chocolate babka that was AMAZING.  I had a coffee-flavoured gelato at Bella Del Gelato and a good strong kosher coffee at SoYo.  Though what makes a coffee kosher, I'm not sure… does it need to be blessed by a rabbi?  

I went to Golders Hill Park for a walkabout before the weather changed.  And then had some fresh sushi at Cafe Japan.  

All in all it was a grand day out...

Stay tuned for the next instalment!  I wonder what I'll do next?

xx

Piney

Londonniversary - 15 years!

So, it's official, I think I can truly call myself a Londoner, I have been a girl about town in London for 15 years now!  

I know, it’s hard to believe that 15 years ago, I got off the plane from Kansas City via Newark with two big trunks full of tweed and wool and jaunty little hats and sensible shoes (because I thought that’s how Londoners dressed... well that’s how you guys dress on the shows I’d seen on PBS like Poirot and films like Cold Comfort Farm).

I soon realised that y’all are a much more stylish bunch, intimidatingly stylish.  I went through phases to try and blend in, wearing all black, the C&A equivalent of what waspy girls were buying at French Connection in 1998, I tried to dress ultra modern in 2000 – ya know, millennium style , lots of white and silver, anime Japanese tops  and crisp trendy sportswear, my favourite store was SuperLovers on Neal Street...  I recall having a silver bum bag (which of course I referred to as a fanny pack).

Then I thought, f*ck it, who am I kidding?  I like vintage dresses, the kind I used to pilfer from the back of my grandmother’s closet, why am I trying to blend in?  The thing is, you can take the girl out of Kansas, but you can’t take the Kansas out of the girl.  And it was then that I really felt I found my niche, my London niche, and I’ve stuck with it for 15 years...

My first weekend in London I went to Notting Hill Carnival.  I vowed never to go back!  But this year, just days before my 15 year anniversary here in London, my boyfriend’s mother was really determined to go, she’d never been... and I felt sort of morally obliged to help her though the experience.  Like a local guide who enables tourists to climb the Himalayas so shall I guide my boyfriend's mom through the Notting Hill Carnival. 

Now, one thing I can say is Notting Hill Carnival is the same now as it was 15 years ago and something tells me it wasn't so different from the first Carnival in 1966.

But I tell you what, this time it was different, this time instead of feeling overwhelmed by the sea of people, the chicken bones in the street, the warm Red Stripe, piss and vomit creeping steadily down the streets and sidewalks; I felt strong, I knew where I was going, I knew what side streets to take to avoid the worst crowds, I knew which tube station to hop to, to avoid the worst of the rush, and I knew I wasn’t going to let Notting Hill Carnival win.  I felt a bit like I’d conquered London, I’m winning!

You’re a tough city London, but I love ya (most of the time)

xx

Piney

My Will Oldham Story - the FINAL Installment

Okay, so I’ve kept you waiting long enough haven’t I?

Here is how the story ends.

After the gig Will Oldham was swapping wardrobe tips with Calexico (before you get too baffled by that fact, they were discussing the merit of vintage waistcoats) and I was stood about 4 yards away discussing with G, Rob and Garo the “Should I / Shouldn’t I?” talk-to-him dilemma.  I was there, holding the CD with my cover of the Bonnie Prince Billy song “Ease Down The Road” and I had totally psyched myself up to give it to him leading up to my trip to West Virginia’s Mountain Stage.  

But when we finally came to be in the same room he had these intense eyes, he barely spoke to anyone pre-show (I put this down to him getting into character) and frankly, he wasn’t putting out a ‘come-up-and-talk-to-me’ vibe.  And so I was nervous about approaching him.

Eventually Rob told me to, “Get a grip, he’s right over there and he’s just a guy so go talk to him if you want to.  It’s no big deal.” – Easy for you to say Mr. Robert B. Campanella!  And so I took a deep breath and marched on over there. 

Me: “Excuse me for interrupting (your discussion about vintage waistcoats).  I wanted to say how much I enjoyed your show.  I’m a big fan, and I have even covered one of your songs on one of my singles.” 

I shoved the CD into his hands, he looked down at it... 

...insert awkward silence here...

Me: “So if you hate it, then you hate my guts”

...More awkward silence... I turn around and walk away...

Will Oldham (speaking to the back of my head): I liked your set.

Blushing giggles in the back of the tour van, "He liked my set, he liked my set!" cue copious amounts of wine at the after show.  The after show!  This is where we'll become new best friends over a few drinks and some vol-au-vents...everyone loosens up after free hotel wine and black olive tapenade, right?

... And then he'll invite me to tour the world with him.  I'll sing on his album, he'll sing on my album.  I'll move to Kentucky, we'll be neighbours.  I'll make him a pie for his birthday.  He'll whittle a flute for me out of a twig.  I'll learn to play that flute.  I'll become the greatest twig/flute player the world has ever known, and I'll owe it all to him.  Good ol' Will, my new best friend.

But he didn't come to the after show.

That’s right folks, I’ve met Bonnie Prince Billy, and unfortunately we are not new best friends.  He might remember the girl who once said "If you hate it, then you hate my guts" though.

Xx 

Piney