Bad influences, good music

I’m blaming bad influences for losing my bank card last Monday. Was I feeling rebellious after an evening of high spirits and rockabilly rock’n’roll? Could be, the band were after all The Best Bad Influence back in Stramash, always a blast. I was stood near the stage, enjoying the tunes when they struck the first notes of Johnny B Good, I think I may have yayyed out loud because a lady close by looked at me, I looked at her, and that was us, two crazy dancin’ fools until the band finished; both of us thanked the other profusely for dancing, but no, no, thank you, I never usually get to dance. There was even hugging going on, the happy joyous type, she was there with her other half but he’s not the dancing type, and he was clearly delighted to watch her dancing without having to oblige her himself. Such a shame that they were only here on holiday, I wouldn’t mind bumping into them again, so great to let loose on the floor.

Anyhoo, so Monday afternoon I was in Holyrood Park, I went up Moose Ridge, then across to the rocky top of Crow Hill. Now, officially the path down from the Nether Hill to Powderhouse Corner is still closed, officially, but recently I’ve noticed plenty of folk using it in the evenings, so as it was after five, I decided to check it out. Turns out that after the initial stepped area at the top (still with large bags of rocks to be used), the rest is pretty much done. The horrible, scary, slidy bit is now a delight, they’ve done a brilliant job on it, sweet! Annoyingly, that didn’t stop my mother’s voice sounding in my head that closed means not to use it (I had way too much parental guidance as a child), I reasoned back that all was fine, then not half an hour later the cashpoint at Tesco’s accepted my card then shut down, bugger. I know it’s daft, but it felt like retribution for being naughty! Sorry, mother. Apparently, a swallowed bank card is treated as lost, so I’ve had to cancel it and order a new one, thank heavens I have another account as well. I’m now wary what might happen to me if I use that path again before it reopens!

A heron engrossed in finding some lunch in St Margaret’s Loch, Holyrood Park

Tuesday night was a Scat Rats midnight set at Whistlebinkies, so I checked out what was on at the cinema ’til late. Oo, a film that Edgar Wright recommended on Instagram, Sinners, blues music and vampires (anyone else immediately reminded of From Dusk Til Dawn?!). A voice-over at the start of Sinners tells of musicians “with the gift of making music so true, it can conjure spirits from the past, but it also can pierce the veil between life and death,” and alas, it can attract evil that wants such power for itself. The setting is 1930s Clarksdale, Mississippi, Sammie Moore is a blues guitarist with this particular gift, Remmick is an Irish vampire who wants it for himself, Smoke and Stack are Sammie’s twin cousins who are setting up a juke joint, inadvertently providing the setting for the big showdown.

Like From Dusk Til Dawn, Sinners is a film in two halves, the first, a story of the twins returning to their home town, reconnecting with folk as they prepare a big opening night for their venture, there’s just a few hints to what lies ahead; then, there’s the expected (well, I was totally expecting something spectacular after that voice-over) awesome scene where Sammie’s music moves the assembled in euphoric, mystical ways, causing the vampire (now with two more, freshly turned) to come a-knocking, aaand that’s the second half underway, nuff said. Oh, and the coda after the first credits very neatly ties everything up in a blue bow (I knew to watch out for it thanks to Mr Wright’s Instagram).

God, there’s a lot to enjoy in this film, the performances, the music, the cinematography; I like how it starts on one morning, then goes back to twenty-four hours previous and shows how Sammie got into the state he’s in. I also like the premise that some musicians, some music can be so sublime, transcendental – you know where I’m going with this, if you’ve read much of my blog. Maybe I should start carrying a bottle of garlic water and a pointy stick when I go see certain musicians?!

It’s late. Time for bed. Sweet dreams!