2019 has been a great year for me. Zone one London living on cheap-as-chips floors, seasonal ups and downs and yet an ultimate sense of moving forward more than backwards. 

Happy at the Spanish villa, I look out of the windows to see wispy white clouds stitched into the pale blue sky. Reeds in distant furrows wave at me as they rock back and forward in the shallow breeze. Peace. Restful peace. Chill.

I know that there are some back in Blighty for whom Christmas will have been tough. And not just those turkeys who voted for food-banks and a widening of the gap between the have and have-nots. It’s a time of reflection and for many life will be irrevocably different to how it was in 2018. Loss, grief, release, memories. 

Number six in my countdown of Sonic Breakfast 2019 gigs is one that will always stick in the memory. It was at 26 Leake Street in May that I learnt of the passing of John. I wrote about it here. A fine man, I’m sure that there were tears and yet joyful tales told in his memory around dining tables this past week. 

Since that night in May, Fake Turins have raised their profile with video releases and headline shows. Without giving too much away about the rest of this top ten another of their gigs that I saw features higher up the chart. So I won’t dwell much upon them here. Suffice to say that they’re one act that I plan to see before Winter gives way to Spring. 

Shattercones ended the year playing support shows with New Model Army, dabbling in soundtracks and soundscapes. Their artistic endeavours will undoubtedly draw me in again in 2020. 

Happy New Years Eve. Must get a boogie on with the top five whilst thinking of 2019’s highlights and lowlights. 

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I am bereft. Just before arriving at 26 Leake Street, I receive a text confirming what’s been on the cards for a short while. 

A great man, the Grandpa to my son, has passed away. 

I didn’t see John much in the latter years of his life. My memories are of a kind, busy man; a witty cynic who had an enduring curiosity for life. He tried hard to convince me about the jazz he loved though I was never sure at the time.

I sit at the back of the Leake Street railway arch on a communal bench and have a private moment. A tear falls. 

Shattercones might have to forgive me in this circumstance that I don’t give them my full attention. I see enough from this distant vantage point to know that they’re a band I’d typically like. It’s very Dirty Three; fiddle-led murder ballads played by quiffed men in suits. Their songs build into thrilling, orchestrated climaxes. The higher, arched ceilings in this venue perhaps moot and muffle the overall, intended effect. Regardless, I note their name and resolve to check them out again in months to come.

Fake Turins are headlining tonight. So impressed was I by this sprawling collective when I first saw them (here) it was a no-brainer to choose to see them again a couple of months on. If anything, and this is the highest of praise, they’ve got tighter and more urgent since that initial gig. 

They’re really going for it tonight. When I last saw them, I observed that backing singer, Alex, might have been an expert in some sort of throat singing. Tonight, you can be left in no doubt that his contribution to Fake Turins is considerably greater than that. His harmonies carry the extended jams into different directions; at times, he becomes the tick making this clock tock.

Their Lead singer, replete with red hair tonight, still conducts the rest of the band a bit but the need to do so appears reduced. Each member of this consortium knows their place and there’s a comfort as a whole in the sound being produced. It results in an astonishing array of rhythm; at times, an euphoric, gospel-based rush. 

It’s the drummer’s birthday. Fake Turins draw attention to this and celebrate accordingly. They’ve got kazoos and cowbells; they know how to party even if the audience remain mostly seated and reserved. 

I’m glad I persevered with tonight. Fake Turins provided an ounce of cathartic release just when I needed it most. 

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