Jon and Libby

  EMOM can be a life of woe! The life of an EMOM performer is filled with woe. Take poor Steve Hardaker of Hardaker and Zux. On the way to play Bleep 17 last Thursday, he had a blowout and couldn't make the gig. Cue a small army of performers who had put their names down to play but hadn't been picked, secretly crossing fingers and waiting by their phones for the call to fill in.  In the end, the gap was plugged by our host for the night, the inimitable DJ Johnny Deluxe, who performed a longer set to pad the evening.  Spinmeister Johnny Deluxe playing an extended set to cover for Steve H.  But what of the other acts?   Well, as usual for BLEEP, I had a curfew of 9pm. In this case, it was a super strict curfew because ASLEF was taking action, and pretty much every train out of Manchester that night had a service announcement warning of possible disruption. So, what did I get to experience before I had to leave? Engines is a new one to me, but nonetheless he ...

It was back to Manchester on Thursday this week, for Bleep #16. This is a significant event for me. First, it marks a year since I first descended the badly-lit steps to the venue space beneath the Peer Hat, and heard some things that made my inner idiot command me to do something in response. A genuine epiphany. A year on, and I'm about to do my 6th gig, having never been on a stage since an ill-fated attempt at a punk band at school. We walked on to silence, played four terrible songs to silence, walked off to silence, and vowed never to do it again. It was clearly the right decision for all involved, especially our audience. But I digress. It's exactly 40 years later, and time for tonight's acts, such as I had time to see before my train called me away to bed and the usual 6:30 start on Friday morning. First up was WhereIsRoamer, who previously graced the Bleep stage last summer with a live set. With a look seemingly influenced by Marc Bolan and Robert Smith, we were tre...

...but this town never drags me down.  Yes, last Thursday the relentless monthly carousel of EMOM nights landed once again on BLEEP in Manchester, accompanied by the kind of rain that seems at first to be far too light to be of any consequence but is actually deeply penetrating, and quickly soaks you to the bone. But dodging puddles on Newton Street, I didn't care. The performance space below the Peer Hat is warm and welcoming.  My train was late into God's own city, and by the time I arrived and grabbed a pint, the space was already filling with familiar faces ...and an enigmatic lady in sunglasses, clad in black, and sitting still and alone, staring at the stage.  The night wasn't as well-attended as usual, but I can safely say that before my 9pm home time called for a 6:30am Friday start, we would all be in for many diverse treats.  First up was Neural Maker, a very interesting and creative DJ. Now, normally, I can take or leave DJs, but this guy is something else...

An unexpectedly cold night, but snuggled up at home with a glass of slutty Merlot to keep me company and the promise of a live stream from the Sonicstate Bath EMOM #4, I was planning on staying put. The format for the evening was pre-recorded interviews with each act chatting about their influences and sound, followed by their live performance. This is an excellent technique that I hope that other livestreamed EMOM organisers follow it because it allows the viewer to understand where the performers are coming from before they play. However, the first act needed no such introduction as it was the one and only Martin Christie. The man we really should call the Creator, Originator, or Founder. Without Martin, it's likely that EMOM would still refer to a form of tortuous interval training. He began the movement as a reaction to having to perform at "normal" open mic nights, surrounded by dreary acoustic guitars and depressing sets of moribund noodling. His brand of poésie con...

They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and I really need to get my daily count up. Insulating myself against the good advice of staying home, I instead braved the storm that was battering the UK, and strode out once more up the hill to the train station, bound for God's own city and BLEEP #14. On the way, I pondered: is it really a whole month since we played BLEEP #13? It feels like a fortnight at most, and yet the calendar claims otherwise. To misquote Douglas Adams: time is an illusion, January doubly so. My usual chums had other plans this month, so I made my way to The Peer Hat alone. Not that Bleep ever means alone. Since I first set foot through the door last April, I've never felt like I was on my own down there. The atmosphere, fuelled by familiar faces, is always warm, welcoming and up for pretty much anything.  A pint of Squawk in hand (£4, dry, hoppy, and a hell of a hangover if you drink one too many), I descended the stairs. The Manc...

My tummy went all funny when I saw the poster the Collective had made for us. I don't know about Libby, but I've been super excited ever since hearing that we'd been picked to play Bleep #13. Excited, as in waking up in the night and grinning like a cartoon. Excited, as in washing my hands at work and grinning at my stupid reflection in the mirror. Excited, as in sitting in traffic, and suddenly shouting at Radio 4, "Oh my GOD! We're playing BLEEP!" Bleep was the first EMOM-style night I attended when, back in April, I stood alone in the audience downstairs at Manchester's famous Peer Hat, and my inner idiot said, "I bet you could do that...". Mental cogs began to grind away in the background, and "I bet..." morphed quickly into "I demand..." I say Bleep is "EMOM-style", because there's a subtle distinction between what the Manchester Electronic Collective do and the nights mounted by most other organisers. At a...