In spite of its being March in England, we managed to have a glorious, sparkly, magical night at the Jericho Tavern. Have a look!
Like many things in Oxford, the place is steeped in history. The current pub was built in 1818, on the site of an inn dating back to the 17th century. A conveninent place to lay your head, if you were approaching from the north and the gates to the city were shut for the night.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, the venue was part of a thriving music scene, with Radiohead and Supergrass making serious waves and signing record deals. (When they played at the Jericho, Radiohead was called On a Friday. Learning that fact brings me joy.) Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, I was learning to play guitar, discovering the Indigo Girls, and organising* school music shows. Also writing songs and making jokes with my friends like, “Bumper? Sticker? I hardly know her!” They were, on the whole, Good Times.
Anyhow, I hope you like this song, which I wrote in Chicago, recorded in Middleton Stoney, and now swims through the ether – in this video, but also on Bandcamp and Spotify. I have mixed feelings about Freud, but I have learned a lot from him over the years. The title is very much a reference to his work. Also a way of making peace with longings that pull me in 360 degrees, all at once.
Singing Discontent with the Sometimes Band at the Jericho Tavern was an absolute thrill. My thanks to our incomperable host, Sam Taplin, for holding the space and gathering us all together.
Here’s to surviving March – even adding a bit of sparkle! Bring on the spring.
*I find making decisions about using American or British spelling very stressful. I could tell you more about why, but I suspect our time is better spent in the company of good music. Just watch the video.