On Gemma Hayes, and Things We Forget

This blog was written in my notebook, longhand, over the course of the day, and has had one or two paragraphs swapped around as it was typed up on this site.  Just thought you'd like to know!

Gemma Hayes and me, after her concert at The Plug, Sheffield, Wednesday 24th October, 2012

  It's very odd coming back to a city where you've had some sort of strong, emotional bond.  I am sitting in a cafe in Sheffield (and have just had a sneezing fit so prolific that it would almost have been preferable, not to mention less embarrassing, to just stand up and spray hot shit down my leg), and have spent today walking from one part of the city to another, in order to find 'Record Collector', the independent record shop.  And I'm glowing with pride because I found it, after seven years of convincing myself that Sheffield was Satan's Maze, seeing as every time I've come here, visits have seen me getting myself catastrophically lost, walking from street to street for over two hours at a time, like a panicky rat.  Somehow, this time, I found my way from my hotel to Broomhill, and back again, inadvertently causing a lost memory or two to emerge from the mist, wave cheerily, and sink back into the ether again.  

  I found myself telling bits of what you're about to read to my friend Claire who lives in Sheffield, as one or two memories dislodged themselves as we walked through the city centre.  It's very nice to come to another town and see a friendly face, and we would have caught up more today had a whiteboard not fallen on her during the course of yesterday.  Send well-wishes, please.  But yes, as we chatted over junk food & some quite frankly startling laughs from passers-by, I remembered one or two things about my previous visits to Sheffield, which really snowballed today.

  Seven years ago, I went out with a girl with whom the relationship lasted precisely a month - 1st September to 1st October.  We met, started dating, she went to university in Sheffield, and soon afterwards realised that we weren't going to last.  Short but sweet is probably a very apt cliche to use.  I did go to Sheffield once after she moved away (before we broke up), and we had a very nice couple of days wandering and chatting.  Some of the wandering was done solo while she went to do enrolment stuff, during which time, whilst being very lost and panic-stricken, I nearly fell over a local news cameraman during the filming of a report.

[I am now writing this from a train, which has been at a standstill for so long that some of us are starting to eye each other up, deciding which ones to eat, should the need arise.  I am really playing up my cold symptoms, in order to make myself a less desirable prospect.]

  On my way to Broomhill this afternoon, the walk became startlingly familiar, for example - walking past a pub that we'd had been to for a pleasant outdoor lunch (September had been very sunny and hot that year), and I had also tried one of her plastic rings on while finishing our drinks, and there ensued a rather intense couple of minutes when it wouldn't come off.  I also spotted a wall that I'd been sitting on after getting lost during the induction hour.  Between that and the cameraman, I'd covered a lot of distance without realising where I was.

  One of the first shops I encountered on my first trip in Sheffield was actually Record Collector, which we had gone into out of curiosity (mostly mine, as I recall), and I noticed a copy of Erin Mckeown's 'We Will Become Like Birds', which I had known was due for release, without knowing when, just sitting on a nearby "New Releases" shelf.  As if it doesn't get better than that, I was given student discount.  Being neither a student, nor local to the area, I continue to wear this as a badge of pride.

  After fishing around Record Collector and picking out some good albums for members of my band, I walked back to the city centre, and realised I was doing so in two separate time zones, 2012 and 2005.  I had completely forgotten walking down this road that lead past two hospitals and the university campus, but suddenly it was all too familiar, right down to the set of steps from which I waved goodbye to my girlfriend, and then fell over an old lady's pushcart (which nearly caused me to fall down the steps).

  The last leg of the walk back was down West Street, the base of which I had only seen in 2005, bathed in warm, late-afternoon sunlight, and I recall it being one serene moment in a cloud of desperation, after having gotten terrifically lost again after the pushcart incident, and I very much needed to find the bus station.  Even now, walking through Sheffield Interchange, I remember being so hot and bothered as a result of trying to find my way around, that I ducked into the gents toilets, hid in a toilet cubicle and mopped the sweat off me with toilet paper, and then got changed into some clothes I had bought from Topman that day.*  We broke up a week or so after I got home.

  For so many parts of Sheffield, I have been terminally unable to piece them all together to form a whole city, until this week.  For example, just before I left this afternoon, I found the street whereon sits The Leadmill, where I went to see Gemma Hayes in March 2006, a mere six months after tumbling around in a heatwave and knocking over the shopping of the elderly.  It was one of the coldest evenings I can remember, and I was still smarting from the break-up.  Arriving in Sheffield again so soon was quite weird.  I got lost again, only this time, after having walked in entirely the wrong direction for two hours, suffered the extra ignominy of giving up and flagging down a taxi, the driver of which drove me round the corner and charged me four quid.

Just outside The Leadmill, where I went to see Gemma Hayes in 2006

  And now, six years later, I've come back - a happier person, a more confident person, and evidently not as lost, as I saw all these different parts of the city and made an entire place out of them.  Instead of wallowing in memories, I have simply waved at them whilst continuing to move.**

GEMMA HAYES

Gemma Hayes, performing with Ann Scott, at The Plug, Sheffield, 24th October 2012

  As I may not have mentioned so far, the reason I have been to Sheffield was, again, to see Gemma Hayes.  It's only fair that I write about the gig a little.  Gemma was on good form, and has always had an uncanny knack for reducing a room to a reverent hush.  Everyone is always focused on the stage and on listening, during songs and between-song chat.  Her tale of Louis Walsh is becoming something of renown (you may remember me blogging about it a while back), and the quietest I've ever heard a crowd was while she was telling us the story of the song 'Oliver'.  I think I could sense the audience being stunned during the telling of this.

  Stand out moments for me were 'Keep Running' (a song I will always love), 'Back Of My Hand', 'Ran For Miles', 'Ruin', 'Happy Sad' and 'Out Of Our Hands', which I have found myself almost singing aloud at various points this afternoon.

Ann Scott, opening for Gemma Hayes at The Plug, Sheffield, 24th October 2012

Mention must also go to Ann Scott, who opened the show, and also accompanied Gemma throughout the gig.  Ann's songs were brilliant, as was her performance of them, and I recommend heading to http://www.annscott.net/  to avail yourself of her work.  The song 'Mountain' stood out for me, with some wonderful combinations of lyric, chord structure and melody.  That's my "Must Listen".  Ann's voice compliments Gemma's perfectly, the two of them create some unexpected, but beautiful, harmonies.

So that's me done.  All in all, a very interesting two days in Sheffield.  I've waved at the past, seen one of my favourite musicians, met a friend, and didn't get lost at any point during the proceedings!

Until next time,
John xxx

*I also remember walking through Sheffield Interchange on my way back from the 2006 Leadmill Gemma Hayes gig, and noticing that each of my trainers had a squeak - one high-pitched, the other more of a squelch.  There was only one other person in the Interchange, right at the other end, and I could see him wondering what the "EEP!"  "SPLAT"  "EEP!" SPLAT" noises were, echoing around the building.

**At the very least, I waved simply.