Last night G and I went to see Willy Mason at St Giles-in-the-fields. St Giles is a circa 18th century church, and so a very atmospheric venue suited to Willy's acoustic-style music.
It was a terrific gig. Actually, I should qualify that statement and say that it was almost a terrific gig. The detracting feature was Willy forcing us all to listen to what must be a friend/relative/drug creditor sing. I say that she must have had such a relationship to Willy because, quite frankly, if she did not there is no way I can believe he would subjected his audience to listening to her sing. Imagine the worst X-Factor contender you have ever heard and you'll be close to picturing this woman. Her music was terrible. I believe it was intended to be folksy, but could most kindly be described as spoken poetry, it was so flat and lifeless. The lyrics were no better. One painfully long song was to the effect: "I am a foal. A little horse, running on the field. I have a master." The song went on for some time, describing the little "pretty" foal. By the end some audience members were loudly booing. I'm also sure I heard a "you suck" shouted from the back row.
All of this served as a rather painful (for my ears) reminder: being kind is not always a good thing. Particularly if it means you agree to friends' requests to sing, even when they are manifestly unsuited to doing so.
Oh, and for those masochists out there, you can hear Willy's friend here.
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