Africa Hotel, Axum, Ethiopia

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, stayed at the Africa Hotel, Axum, for a few days in November 2015. It is pleasant and clean, and the rooms are around a courtyard that could be nice. The restaurant was very large, though always nearly deserted, and the food was variable. This place has potential - perhaps this is why men with power-tools were renovating from 8am to 6 pm, though with a break for lunch, which means I cannot recommend it at the moment. Efram will try to book you on some good though expensive tours to the town and the churches. Axum itself is a dismal, poor town on which some international taxpayer, probably myself, has clearly spent a great deal of money to improve the road and infrastructure, but omitting to replace the people. I do not think that Ethiopians much like strangers and I think this is the only place I have ever abandoned a sightseeing stroll due to incessant "beggars" and "guides", indeed finally preferring the construction at the hotel.

Yeha, Tigray

I visited Yeha, an old temple near Axum, Northern Ethiopia. It is interesting to see a site so much earlier than the others, though since it is covered in scaffolding (of metal rather than the usual wooden variety seen in these parts) the effect is generally spoilt. I rather doubt the assertion of the guide that it had really remained standing since pre-Axumite times. There is a small church nearby with a few unremarkable items which the deacon wanted a payment to look at, and an excavation site from which not much can be made.  My guide picked up some cooking oil in the village, explaining bafflingly "none is available in Axum - because it is such a big town".

Debre Damo Monastery, Ethiopia

I did visit the Debre Damo Monastery in Tigray, Ethiopia, not far from Eritreia. It is necessary to climp up a cliff with a rope to visit this Monastery, which is not at all easy -- in fact probably impossible if you have not done any rope climbing since junior school very many years ago. Coming down is also rather scary as you cannot see where to put your feet. Without the assistance of my guide, who managed to crack his head several times against the cliff trying basically to raise and lower me on his shoulders, I would not have managed this! The monks at the top were kind enough to charge me an extra 50bir (£1.50) in addition to the standard 50bir for a pull on the leather-assisting rope, on the grounds that I was "heavy". Somewhat exhausted, they took pity and gave me a little water from an old can, which my guide assured me was safe to drink. In fact I spent the next half hour coughing up some dustlike substance I had ingested. I asked him again if he was sure the water was alright, and he said "of course, it is holy water, kept in the holes in the rocks. They scrape off the algae before drinking it". There is not much to see at the top, except some illuminated books, indeed I was in no state to look around much. The monks were not, however, beneath hitching a lift with us on to Adigrat.

The Mekele Martyrs' Museum

I did visit the Martyrs' Museum in Mekele, Ethiopia (40bir). It is quite a large complex, with a Soviet helicopter, jet fighter and library. The museum is filled mainly with photos and artefacts (guns, radios) of the Tigray Front's fight against the Derge (Mengistu's regime). Although some signs were in English, I did not find the historical succession of exhibits easy to follow. There were some pleasant coffee places near the assembly hall.

Witchsorrow

This sorrow

Brule blesses

I did watch Brule, Sea Bastard, and Witchsorrow at the Black Heart in Camden, London, on 14 August 2015. Brule played a very pleasant if unremarkable mid-tempo doom with high vocals. It would be delightful to see them again as a support act. Sea Basterds had some amplifier problems but when they got going played a extreme slow doom with rough vocals, a bit like Moss but with more form. 

Witchsorrow delivered not unlike a stripped down Electric Wizard. Though suffering in range a little from being a three piece, they certainly deserved an audience larger than the few dozen present.

Les Hameaux de Pomette, Cazals

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did stay at Les Hameaux de Pomette, a collection of chalets half a kilometre outside Cazals, in July 2015. One can park beside one's chalet - these are on a slope a few dozen metres from one another, each with a fine shaded patio to sit and read, with plastic chairs and a table. Ours was quite clean, though one evening a column of ants launched an offensive on the kitchen. Cazals is a pleasant small country town, with a supermarket, two restaurants and a bar, though a long drive from the autoroute to Toulouse or Paris. Plenty of charming medieval villages lie within an hour or two, but I could not really recommend this area to someone without a car, unless a dedicated touring cyclist.  Wifi was available down in the reception, or by sitting fairly closely outside it in the evening, where there were also a few toys and games.  The pool was unshaded and a bit short of sunbeds. The "child lock" on the gate defeated not only children. Most guests were French. In principle I would not mind staying here again, had I not already stayed here.

Richard II at the Globe

I did see "Richard II" at The Globe, London, in July 2015, and received an e-mail from the theatre asking me to share my opinion on their "facebook". Well, it is a pleasant venue which I had not visited before. Although for the full experience one would have to stand in the pit, from around the side at the top I could see well and was pretty comfortable. The play is about a not terribly effective king who has to deal with some rebels. I thought the Presence of the king quite fine, and did not find the usurpers as charismatic. Indeed, I am surprised more did not rally to the king. There were many memorable lines, though I would have preferred more rhyming, and the dialogue was too often marred by silly puns and wordplay. As for the plot, it was all easy to follow, but for dramatic tension could be reworked a bit. It started with rather a lengthy scene with two usurpers arguing, and I thought this would set up the stage for the rest, but one of them just disappeared from the plot until someone came in towards the end and said he had been killed in a crusade. People also seemed to speak warmly about England at random points for no very obvious reason. Several mildly amusing bits went on for rather a long time. I was expecting a fine oration at the end, of the victor over the vanquished, but instead it all ended quite abruptly. But I would certainly like to see the next play in the series!

Electric Wizard at the Roundhouse

I did see Electric Wizard, etc., at the Camden Roundhouse on 15 May, 2015. This venue is rather overspecified as a metal dive, though a bit short of toilets once the frontloaders arrived, having missed

A wondrous ponder

Moss, for example, who confessedly are an acquired taste (that I have not yet acquired), though the resolute refusal of their sole guitarist to play any riffs may be something to be admired. Indeed, almost all rock guitarists play slightly ahead of the beat to generate a sense of pace, but he plays either on or slightly behind, generating an overwhelming sense of ponder, and wonder - though only in the sense of "what chord will he try next?".

Stars

Following them Purson were relatively normal, with some new material moving away from a quixotic indulgence to a more driving heavy rock in the direction of the Grateful Dead... though I could not hear the synthesizer or the rhythm guitar. I understand that after an EP they are working on a second album; perhaps their third will be the masterpiece.

Cosmic plugs

Now, a synthesizer I could hear well, even too well in the shrieking bits, was the retro contraption of the Cosmic Dead, their first number a rather fast jam on Interstellar Overdrive, their second an orthodox mass in a monastery of monks battering their heads against gold-backed prayer books. How to dance to this? Yes! One must turn one's head from side to side, if not entirely round and round, like the whirling dervishes of old! This also allowed us to flummox the common moshers. Their third Sign was a glorious swirling construction of great weight, and then speed, marrying to the Floyd a Stockhausen. Well this was extraordinary stuff, though not something I could really imagine listening to at home.

Could Electric Wizard match this? Another of their curious one-off performances, bludgeoning on its way, in surprisingly coherent sound, with lurid film projections compensating for static stagecraft, weak bass and unexceptional volume. I gathered many of their acolytes wished to get high before they die. They deserve to cancel as many of their Black Masses as they like, say I!

Incineration Fest 2015

Heil Endstille

I did attend the "Incineration fest" in Camden on 9 May 2015. First up were Jotnarr at the Black Heart, a couple of men in white with good rhythm which would be the base of a good band, but need of development. Otagos over at the Underworld sounded remarkably like Behemoth, and looking the part played to a largely passive crowd but not for want of trying, with many gloriously anthemic numbers featuring guitar leads though subdued in the mix. The big advantage of the Camden festivals is that one can nip for cans of Special Brew from Sainsbury's in the breaks (or, as I did, Coke Zero). But those preferring a little Prostitute Disfigurement would have found a sound quite similar to Cannibal Corpse but without the mighty windmilling Corpsegrinder. I cannot imagine what they were singing about.

Finnish Nazarene

I caught the end of a storming set from the Keep of Kalessin, and will have to look into them some more. Then to Endstille with a more mellow metalcore compared to the Impaled Nazarene who were not unlike Napalm Death.

I also saw Funeral Throne but could not make much of them. Shining managed a superb mixture of the somewhat brutal with the epic, though the endless spitting of Jack Daniels at the crowd seemed a waste (unless it was the honey flavoured sort). Godseed were curiously static and uninvolved.

Last time I saw Alcest they sounded worryingly murky, and I was surprised they were headlining this rather heavy assemblage. But here they were much less dopey, moulding Celtic-style harmonies that would not be out of place in a Lord of the Rings soundtrack with crushing and epic climaxes, and even neat lighting effects to make a super end to the day!

The White Room, Ventura

I did dine at The White Room, a restaurant by Marco Pierre White at the top of the Ventura, itself a P&O cruise ship then someway off Lisbon, in April 2015. We sat inside as it was raining. For complementary starters, we were presented with an astringent aperitif, followed by a chowder of halibut, in an espresso cup, which I sipped curiously, and nibbled on the lumps of fish at the bottom. There were several varieties of bread in the basket, none particularly fresh. The waitress poured olive oil and balsamic vinegar together for a dip, however this made the dip too acidic and after it was finished I poured olive oil alone, which we preferred. My entree was parma ham, which lacked flavour and salt, on top of melon chunks, which I thought too firm. On top of both was a thin disc of a chewy substance I could not identify. Slightly separated, and at a 45 degree angle, was something resembling a spring roll without the filling, assuming the roll had been left outside for a few hours. In sum, I would not say the entree was the finest I have eaten. My companion ordered something with oysters, hoping she might get some oysters, but received lightly fried balls of fish-substances which may have included an oyster substance. At the corners of my plate were four small black cubes. I enquired of one of the two very efficient Asian waitresses what it was. They had already described the dishes as they brought them, but rather quickly and I could not understand their accent easily. She said it was a jelly with olive. I thought it gelatin strongly flavoured with vinegar. To drink we had a bottle of Lanson Black NV, which I thought a bit lemony. The main course was a fine rib-eye steak with pleasant if unremarkable vegetables. Hers was a lobster tartufi, which she though the best dish she had enjoyed for a long while. The dessert was Mr White's rice pudding. You would not have got fat on this portion of rice pudding, served in a small cup (indeed I felt a little peckish after the whole meal). But it was of exceptional smoothness and very tasty with the apricot sauce and dried apricots. Total cost for two was two covers (£25), champagne (£40), to which one should add the opportunity cost of not dining in the main restaurant (say £20) making about £130. In all, a very pleasant meal with excellent service. Although the waitresses had problems using my mobile phone to take a photo of us, so do I.

Doom Over London V, 4 April 2015, Dome Tufnell Park

Khosting

This mini-festival started at 3.30pm, so involved getting out of bed early. Fortunately I live quite close. We began with Khost, a two piece performing a very slow bass event with occasional taped Arabic wailing, similar to Om but less eventful. Like being sieged in a Crusader castle, with moorish drums of war and chanting from the besiegers outside. Crypt Lurker seemed relatively upbeat compared to this, with charming candles, but  I thought the five piece unutilised and rather ponderous. I preferred Uncoffined, who had more groove and a growling lady drummer, despite feedback problems. How cool if we had a really ancient granny for the  tooth-spitting! Serpent Venom added to these a lead guitar and more traditional doom vibe. Witchsorrow started with a surprisingly a fast number and their oeuvre was more varied and rhythmic than last time I saw them.

Crypt Lighter

Fen-bass

Funeralium were indeed funereal, but did seem to pick up some themes in their slowness and I think maybe would flourish in a longer set. Indeed, perhaps every festival should in future have a special "funeral" tent! Isole were a little out of place, their set punctuated by puzzlingly heroic-sounding vocals. I was impressed by Fen, producing a magnificent wall of sound in their threesomeness, though I am not convinced the rhythm guitar was plugged in properly as I could not hear it very well. I did not make much of October Tide, and  Forgotten Tomb sounded to me like a normal guitar band.

Martinsphyx

Wielding their great Asphyx, the headliners delivered with excellent crunching sound numbers mixing death and crushing doom without a hint of fussy prog. We had not seem them before, and they should visit London more often. The event was well-attended, though far from crowded, and readmission was allowed before 7, preventing starvation. Yea to nice venues, even with some seats. Nay to the aesthetics of vigorous headbanging - with backpacks.

Le Rock pub cafe, Bangalore

Strolling round Bangalore, India, in November 2014, as one does, I had been excited to see a metal festival advertised down the road from my hotel, and had ventured thither, only to find it a local high school infested very many extremely young people. Although there may have been a hall there somewhere I thought it probably not appropriate to scare them with my hairy presence. Prowling the streets further I encountered some heavy metal kids, surrounding a small store selling rock memorabilia staffed by a young man with a Lamb of God T-shirt. I told him I had seen them last year, and he became frightened and ran behind the counter. Not abandoning my dedicated search of the defense of the faith, and more lubrication, I did then happen upon the Rock Pub, attracted by very loud beat, and sat at the bar, drinking beer with a few chips. I dare say the local bangers  could not afford the beer, for there were only one or two other patrons, or they may even have worked there. The place was modern, clean, somewhat stylish, and the music not a bad heavy rock mix on video screens, though including some poppy numbers. On leaving after about an hour I asked the manager how late they were open, and he said they were just closing (at 11), and indeed the blinds were coming down. Whether this place is ever happening, I cannot say, but it would be a pleasant though rather aseptic joint if it were.

Sterling Stanev

I did attend the Liszt recital of Vesselin Stanev at St John's Smith Square, London, on 13 March 2015. The acoustics in this venue are good, but the chairs uncomfortable, as though in a school hall, and the crowd seemed to wander around and whisper a lot. Last time I saw Stanev, again in Liszt, I had some doubts about the evenness and smoothness of touch in the playing of quieter runs in the treble, but I thought this time the Reminiscences de Norma was fine in this regard, though he remains one of the more aggressive masters.

Some of the sections sounded a bit random in their noisy bits, possibly because the structure was not immediately apparent to an ear not accustomed to the piece, which may be a criticism of the ear, or perhaps the composer, rather than the performer. The most effective piece was of course the Annees de Pelerinage Italian section, with an epic quality and nice clear themes.

Primordial in Islington

Greater Man?

Arriving at the O2 Islington, on 7 February 2014, without having drunk, due to the ridiculous start time, the first band I heard I quite liked, but I was concerned the screaming vocals were not loud enough. I then ventured to the serious business of the bar, where I ordered a Tuborg, and was charged £5.10. I confess I gave the bartender a slightly hostile look, while searching in my pockets for an additional 10p, though it would not have been his fault. Cradling my precious cargo carefully with both hands, I approached the front, until standing beside a longhair of indeterminate gender but with substantial metal spikes on the leathers at the shoulder, which I thought should discourage any argy-bargy that might threaten the nectar. The next group were also quite good with a mesmeric curtain of trancy sound and a bellowing lead. By the time Primordial appeared it was heating up a bit and their singer -- resembling a Celtic twin to Nergal -- belted out his convincing dramas, to a few aggressive dancers in a nice variety of ages, myself surrounded on the left by a tall white-haired wind-breaking elf, and in the front by a curious, old, white-haired dwarf who pranced without once raising his eyes from the floor. A bit more melody or thematic variety from the band would have been nice, though we were spared the exhaustive double drumming of the Poles.

Saint Vitus and Orange Goblin

Orange by name

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Concert of Orange Goblin and Saint Vitus, on 29 October, at Heaven under the Arches at Charing Cross. I have not previously attended this venue, the  brickwork and arches striking me as most suitable for darker sounds and certainly much preferable to the O2 Islington. Heavy Metal is not the most subtle of art forms, and Orange Goblin are not its most delicate proponents, but for some basic driving rock they performed the business, though I rather preferred the simple dirge of Serpent Venom preceding them.

Washed out

Saint Vitus seemed old in a very literal sense and their doom lacked any clear riffs or themes; I have a few of their records and cannot really remember anything from them either. I liked more their Shrinebuilder project, which did seem to build to some more structured pieces.  The singer implored the people never to sell out, indeed I gather he was expelled from Europe shortly afterwards, so clearly adheres to that philosophy, though on the basis of this gig Melachi is not sure his absence from these shores will be a great loss.

Kikoru Country Kitchen, Kisumu

Ugale, ugale everywhere

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, ate at the Kikoru Country Kitchen restaurant, opposite the Imperial Hotel in Kisumu, in February 2014, as there seemed few other options near my hotel and it was getting dark. The gentleman who seated me seemed surprised that I intended to sit before selecting my food from the menu. I ordered "wet chicken with ugale" which he said was a local speciality, with mango juice. The juice arrived soon and was thick and tasty. The main arrived a respectable time later and included something like spinach. The chicken was only an arm and small breast, topped with a stew of some vegetables with sauce and tasty enough, though the bird itself a mite dry and scrawny. The ugale was copious (he said it was from maize) but very dense. When the sauce was used up I found it too dry to eat and had to leave two thirds of it. The cost including the drink was 500KSH (about £4). All half dozen tables were full when I left, which Melachi thinks is as it should be.

Aga Khan Palace, Pune, India

Shrine

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Aga Khan Palace in the North of Pune, India, in November 2014, arriving by Rickshaw (100r), a fairly modern pavilion-type building where Ghandi was detained for some time, in unremarkable grounds. Entry was 200r which allowed the viewing of a few rooms of faded photographs and a couple of nice statues marked "do not touch". I did not know Mahatma well, but I have no doubt he would have approved of children not touching his statue. There was also a barely kept shrine. For Gandhi completists only.