Submitted by Nick the Bookman:

Steve, Franklin, Leigh and friends: 26/09/2010 at Diesel's.

"Have you heard that Wayne Rooney's in trouble again?"... I'm sitting at the back of Cath's Bar with Mitch who has just asked the above question. "Apparently, he's been caught shoplifting. Stuffed a packet of Pop-Tarts down his track suit trousers". Pause. "His wife says he shouldn't pay for tarts anymore". Another pause. "It's a joke".

It's not a verbatim reconstruction, (Shock! Horror! Fictive Journalism!), but I'm finally writing this review on 14/10/2010. The Feel Good Story Of The Year is about to end. As I began this effort, the sixth and final rescue worker is being winched up 700 metres or so to safety. After spending about 24 hours in the shelter with the 32 trapped Chilean miners, one Bolivian miner and his five colleagues. Seeing them all hauled to safety. Then spending the last hour on his own.That almost certainly makes him the globally watched Loneliest Person In The World. What was it like down there on his own? The last man standing from the greatest rescue of a large group of trapped miners in recent history. All of whom were carried up to safety in a 4.5 metres tall by 1.5 metres wide retrieval capsule.

For the miners, it was their first fresh air, panoramic view since 2/8/2010. A view populated with their families, friends, one mistress, two Presidents, dozens of techies, medics and fellow workers. And a very large number of journalists relishing the opportunity to report good news to a rapturous world wide audience.

Unlike, say, the reptiles, wriggling and squirming around Private Eye's Street of Shame.The ones who uncovered Rooney's cavortings with call girls (or grannies). The ones who think nothing of sticking their own sexual shenanigans on expenses. Under supper. Dining at the Y for twelve. It wouldn't have been such a story among the other soccer sexcapades if the fair Coleen had hypothetically said: "Look, Wayne's randy. He wants sex. I'm pregnant. Can't oblige. So he said he'd go and revisit some old roots. Have safe sex and pay a fair price. Prostitution isn't illegal if it's private and there's no poncing or public solicitation. It's no problem and our private life". Anyway, she didn't.

And what has Wayne Rooney and Manchester United got to do with this review? Nothing, except they were playing away to Bolton on the telly. Last I checked, the score was 1-1 and Rooney was about to be substituted off with an injury. The game is silent because (taa-dah!) Steve Cray and Franklin are about to start their latest (semi) acoustic gig. With special guest guitar man, Leigh Eggins sitting (standing) in. It's Steve's last Lamma gig this year as he's off to darkest Zambia quite soon. Possibly to track down the mythical Faqawi tribe who cameo'd in my review of his previous gig at Diesel's.

There's a good buzz and a good crowd. Ex-Cicada's Kieron and Marcus to my right.Josh, the Transnoodle vocalist, is to my left. Leigh has arrived and is chatting to Caroline in between intermittent lupine yodels of joy. There's Bob Davis, Hugh, less Sally, John on laptop DJ duties, John and Alba (who's not filming tonight) Katherine F., Mitch, Oz... All enjoying the folkie groove.

Steve and Franklin play an acoustic set (guitar, harmonica, vocals and bass). Mostly taken from Steve's summertime carouse around the UK Festival circuit. The songs include "Turning Tide" which is a sort of landlocked sea shanty. Bit Roy Harper and hints of vintage Fairport Convention. And did those chords borrow from "Watchtower"? The next tune is "Wild Wind" and it's haunting, elegiac refrain of "I hope and pray the wild wind blows your troubles away". Reminds me of Tim Hardin in places. Another "hoow-ool" from Leigh shows his approval. Franklin is in free flow mode tonight. His bass riffs are meshing nicely with Steve's chords. At least he knows the songs better now. There's a reverent hush as "Wild Wind" finishes and then applause. Lots of it.

A couple of blues workouts including "Walking Blues" by Robert Johnson. Also done very well by Red Star Rising, Some insouciant bass twanging by Franklin and loneseome-train-whistle-in-the-night style mouth organ from Steve. Another hard blues number to keep the (Fuck! Michael Owen has scored for Man Utd. I think they're now 2-1 up) tempo hot and sassy. Another "how-ool" from Leigh and the set ends. Bob Davies wanders over and moans his lack of luck in getting any ladies to join him in a brief boogie. "They all say they want to listen to the music". Perhaps, he'll pull in the second set.

John plays a short set, including Primal Scream, The Smiths and "Tonight, tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins, The soccer ends (2-2) and it's over to the Singapore Grand Prix. The crowd has swollen and I'm not in the front row anymore, Toto. Bob has scored a celebrity dance partner. Karen (aka Steve's latest Significant Other). Leigh sings a slightly more polished version of "Walking Blues"

And at one point there is a mesmeric jam on a song called "Rain". Ripples of melody. Thumping bass. Steve drumming on his guitar. The closest thing I've heard to The Grateful Dead in Space/Jam mode. The guitars snarl and spit over each other. Near tidal swells of tangled tussles of notes intertwined like Keef and Ronnie when the Stones are really cooking. Or like Quicksilver Messenger Service indulging in lysergic musical alchemy.

One of the greatest music performances I've heard this year. My hairs are rising. I'm getting ecstatic chills. And naturally, no one is recording it. There's a story that Rachmaninoff and Horowitz met one night for dinner in Los Angles in the mid 1940's. They ended the evening playing piano duets for their mutual pleasure. No audience present. That has to be a legendary lost recording opportunity. The non-bootlegged SLF Trio version of "Rain" on 26/9/2010 pangs me as well, although to a lesser extent.

There's no time for withdrawals. Josh has ambled up to do his bit. Leigh has left for a previous future appointment and the ambiance gets dirty delta. Raw blues with big beefy vocals by Josh, conjuring up a hooting-and-a-hollering revival tent vibe on "Bringing It Home To You" All that's missing is the ghost of John Belushi doing multiple back flips around the floor. A seismic bluesrock groove complements Fernando Alonso and the Red Bull Team streaking to victory in Singapore.

Sue Shearman has arrived without her guitar. Pity, she's always worth hearing. Josh leaves the dynamic duo to ravage a rare acoustic version of "Megaphone Man" which brings the tension and energy levels down a notch. He's wandered off for a drink. Or possibly to gargle a jar of crushed razor blades in anticipation of an encore. He duly obliges on "House Of The Rising Sun" with a vocal that makes Dan Spiceboy sound like the legendary castrato, Farinelli. Complete with a jutting ciggie and a pint clasped firmly in his mighty paw. Jasmine and Annie are entranced by this back-to-basics powerhouse performance.

Having compressed, re-arranged and remixed the elements of this gig, it's time to wrap it up. It's about 2200 and Franklin (and his cool new Afro-cum-dreads hairstyle) has to get the ferry soon. Sue has gone. Again a pity she didn't get a chance to sit in.. As for me, another great night. Thanks to all at Diesel's. A nigh on perfect night. All it needed for completion was a Man Utd defeat coupled with Fergie going into an apoplectic overload and his head exploding. Still, can't have everything. The Salvation Of The Miners is approaching faster than they dared dream or hope. Only 18 days and counting down...(that's with the benefit of hindsight of course).


P.S. Steve told me just before he left that Sue went and got her guitar and played a short set of about 5-6 songs. Those who stayed behind got an extra-time treat. I'm sorry I missed it. Next time, perhaps....

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