Bonjour! Je m'appelle Edith Piaf! Bienvenue a mon blog. Bits of that might be French but most of it is a lie.
Last night I was in London, although I very nearly wasn't. They're messing with the trains again! I hadn't expected to get a train all the way home late at night - that's a luxury they save for the weekend - but it turned out I couldn't even get back to Cambridge without a change. Frankly the thought of it was nearly too depressing to go. And I felt like I had the start of a cold. But at the end of summer I promised I'd go to everything I had a ticket for as long as I was physically able, so off I went.
I went to the Barbican to see the lovely Martha Wainwright singing Edith Piaf songs, to celebrate the release of an album of Piaf's songs. The album was recorded live in New York in the summer and this is the first time she's played the songs since - clearly I had to be there!
When she took to the stage the first thing I thought was, "oh my God, what a dreadful top!" - sequinned with horizontal stripes, the kind of thing you'd find in one of those shops for the fuller figure that doesn't quite understand how women dress. I'd hardly got passed the, "blimey, that makes her look fat!" thought before she turned to one side and I realised she is pregnant - another generation of the Wainwright dynasty/insanity - how thrilling!
She sang songs from the album, all in French obviously, so I didn't understand a word! But she introduced each one, explaining what they were about, and behind her as she sang were screens with pictures and films on, so the meaning was pretty clear. They were dramatic and passionate, about lust, death, lovers, soldiers, hookers, and more death. Some of them were a bit playful, some really dark. She has a fantastic voice and always sings passionately anyway so she really suited the material. She had a small band with her: strings, trumpet, trombone, accordion, piano, double bass, guitars - and the whole thing sounded magnificent!
As an encore she sang Brother can you spare a dime, which is about unemployed soldiers, because it was Remembrance Day. Then La Vie en Rose, the only really well known Piaf song she did, because she wanted people to sing along - so we did!
When the woman besides me took her seat she said to her companion, "I don't like people singing French songs who aren't French" then hardly clapped at all during the first half. I assume she was hating it and silently tutted at her. Then she came back to her seat at the end of the interval, asked me if I was enjoying it and we ended up having a nice chat. Turns out she actually knew Martha's grandfather! She was only there because of him and Piaf, she didn't know Martha's stuff at all. So we had a good gossip about the Wainwright family, which was fun!
But even during the interval I found myself thinking how much easier the whole thing would have been if someone else had gone with me. But I don't know anyone else who is prepared to spend five hours on public transport to hear two hours of music. I did wonder if next year I should stop doing stuff like this because it's a bit silly, but the whole evening was so fantastic I'm glad I did! Despite the replacement bus service on the way home, which the rail company secretly described on the website as a change of train. Naughty people!
The Barbican was also rather marvellous - only two stops on the Tube from King's Cross, which is always a bonus! I've been there before for cinema and Art, but didn't feel like I'd been in the concert hall before, which is stupid of me as it was lovely - big, but with great views from everywhere, loads of legroom, and all rather stylish. I want to go back!
