“All I Really Know”
After a week off from sweating my tits (hence why I am going) off at the local Hendon gymnasium, it does feel decent to be back in action as part of the 7.30am workout crew. Just kidding. I don’t have a crew. I do go for a jog and/or row and/or cycle and/or attempt to lift approximately half my larger-than-I-thought bodyweight on any number of machines available. Swimming has taken a slight nose dive, as has the ritualistic end point of hitting the sauna and/or steam room due to the sheer abundance of naked and rather elderly men that seem to sit there, bits out, and do that horribly suggestive intermittent groan that only really sweaty old naked men can do when they’re doing their thing in such situations. I may have to campaign for a Never-Nudes Hour, whereby me and people like me – the kind that don’t really fancy the otherwise-deemed locker room etiquette of walking around, bare as the day one was born, with a group of the aforementioned being present whom we really don’t know very well nor do we have any particular to know them better beyond having to reluctantly sit next to them in the sauna – might be able to get our own sweat on without having to feel, like, fucking weird about it all. It’s not all bad though. The odd 15-20 minutes that pass per machine bearing the brunt of our relatively newfound will to want to exercise on each one respectively is currently being used to check out shit that I honestly couldn’t be bothered to before when the grip of lethargy and can’t-be-arsedness was generally wrapped around my proverbial neck for a sizable portion of 2018 and prior to that. The theme of this week is checking out the line up of SPOT Festival, to which I am going as a first-time attendee next week just after checking out some other cool bits in a far-more rural part of Denmark (which hopefully I will get to boast about later, depending on how it all goes) via the medium of their rather useful Spotify playlist. In fact, there’s quite a few gems to be reeled off in editorial form which will likely form the basis of the next few posts I do. So, first up is one Iris Gold, who is in fact UK born and Copenhagen based. Upon further digging, it turns out that I actually put her on a London show all the way back in 2014 when we had some kinda deal going on with the King’s Head Members Club in Haggerston. How about that. Seems she’s been busy ever since then, lapping up praise and plaudits alike from a number of tastemaker press outlets crossing the rather large rift that I feel exists between the likes of Indie Shuffle and Pop Justice. This suggests what we refer to, in this business/whenever we feel like it, as a “crossover”. Upon hearing sass-bleeder All I Really Know around about the 10th minute of the rowing machine, I have decided that Iris’ rate of progress over the last 4 years has been both surgical and enviable and I shan’t imagine it would be terribly long before we’re all laying claim to her in the way I inadvertently have during this post.