Author Archives: Fordiebianco

Fordiebianco and the serious quest for breakfast in Glasgow.

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If it’s autumn it must be Glasgow, so this morning I rose from my bed, showered, put on my tartan underwear and donned my best brown corduroy jacket. I grabbed The Guardian and the Ipad and started on my odyssey to find a nice full Scottish breakfast. In my mind I saw a plate of toast, Lorne sausage, black pudding, beans, hash browns, bacon, maybe even some chips. When I last lived in Glasgow, the place was heaving with what the East Londoners like to call a ‘caff’. You know the place: neon lights, men with high visibility jackets, tea urn behind the counter and a menu made mainly up of fried pig’s bits. But after one hour, I still hadn’t found one. I walked up and down, East and West through Glasgow’s city centre, down the full length of Sauchiehall street, past Queen Street and Central Station, but: nothing. Loads of Prets, Costas, Burgerkings, Greggs, but no caff.

None.

I already resigned myself to sit with the middle classes in the John Lewis cafe in Buchanan Street, when something green caught my eye. There, in a souterrain on West George street, somebody served breakfast. Ok, it was far too tasteful and clean for a proper caff, but the waitresses’ Glaswegian twang was so broad that I struggled to understand anything and the word ‘Lorne Sausage’ was clearly visible on the breakfast board. And they even insisted to take your order at your table. How posh is that?

Anyway, after 1 hour and 20 minutes of looking for a caff (during which I almost bought a Samsung Note 2) I was presented with this:

Ok, so there are were neither chips nor beans, but you can’t have everything in life. The coffee was great, service cheerful and the place spotless. I would have stayed for hours, but they were playing Shania Twain on a tinny stereo, so I had to flee pretty quickly before I could have caused a Shania Twain triggered incident.

So 3 out of four stars for breakfast, location and service, but nil points in the background music category.

Cafe Wander

110 West George St,

Glasgow G2 1Q

Tel: 0141 353 3968

Kung Pao Kitchen!

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My giddy aunt,

I haven’t been so excited about the launch of a new album since, er, oh, I don’t know. I am officially to old to care about new album releases, especially as most of the artists I like have long hung up their portable synthesizers to either go into a cocaine riddled coma or to turn into real estate salespeople. But since last week I have 9 shiny fresh songs from one of my favourite bands ever. Nu Shooz new release is called ‘Kung Pao Kitchen’ and contains more pure funk than the Great Wall of China. No really. It’s electrofunk at its best and there’s not an (audible) autotune in sight (be quiet, I can smell something).  Mrs Day sounds as good as ever and like she hasn’t aged a bit (and if you see the pictures of the release party, that certainly rings true) and her hubby hasn’t changed his approach to e-funk. It still sounds like a kid with ADHD was let loose between a ton of electronic percussive elements and…

Oh, Sorry.

You have never heard of Nu Shooz?

Well. Let me remind you.

Right, do you remember now? Late eighties hipster funksters. Cool. Let’s go on then…

 

Because I planned to do a series on unknown electro pop innovators (the other one was Richard Anthony Hewson who never answered) I wrote a few emails, and John Smith actually sent me a long, enthusiastic email which I promptly deleted in an overzealous act of ‘cleaning up my inbox’. He wasn’t particularly pleased and never wrote again. Sniff. Anyway, they have made a new album which is ridiculously good and as last.fm seems to record me as Nu Shooz only listener (ok, almost), I would like you to buy their album. The link is here.

Thank you.

The Gherkin From The Top

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I have now been living on and off in London for 12 years. Just like the amazing Konstantin Binder I consider myself a fan of the place (though I lack his stamina, encyclopaedic knowledge and gift for the narrative) and have been around its quite a few numerous microcosms. Actually. let’s talk about these microcosms for a second: have you ever noticed how each and every tube station that you enter seems to propel you into a different world? There is not one stairwell of the London Metro that delivers you into an area that in the slightest bit resembles the station previous. Each and everyone seem to completely inhabit a different plane of existence, not in anyway connected to the other stations in the vicinity. Only if you actually take a small car and drive from east to west at 5am in the morning on a spring day you start to realise how these dots on the map are connected. I haven’t attempted this yet from north to south, as this would mean venturing south of the river, but I am sure one day this can be achieved as well.

Anyway, back to the Gherkin.

Has there ever been a building that looks more like a mechanised pleasure item for the female nether-regions like Sir Norman Foster’s phenomenal phallic frolic for posh office workers? While I personally think that the building is more a object of ridicule than architecture (although it’s apparently highly ecologically worthy), I’ve never entered it. Until recently.

Searcys (a posh caterer) opened a private club/restaurant on its tip, and it’s a bloody revelation. Apart from the stunning views the architecture offers, the food is impressive, the service immaculate (once they get going), the wine list a revelation and the whole experience worth every penny. Good work Searcys.

 

(Sorry for the rubbish quality of the pictures. My new Lumix isn’t particularly good at low light situations)

 

Hooray For Charity Shops

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Originally the best girlfriend ever suggested to head for Arlesford (Essex village of the year) for the traditional weekend trip north, but the weather turned nasty just minutes after we were on our way, so we ended up much closer to home in a small Essex coastal town famous for its salt.  Maldon has everything she craves for on a Saturday afternoon: a bit of shopping in the organic shop, a cutesy flower shop, an unbelievable venue that sells everything apart from pinking shears and for communal elation one of the best pubs in Essex, the Blue Boar. So while her highness was busy exploring the floral improvements that our house could incorporate, I spotted a basket full of vinyl in one of the charity shop. 5 minute later I walked out, elated. Not only did I get two of the best electronica albums of the eighties, I also purchased two excellently preserved ‘Deutsche Grammophon’ LPs with recordings by Karajan and Boehm. Price? 2 pounds for the four of them. As soon as I got home I gave them a spin on my Ortofon studded Pro-Ject and wasn’t disappointed: these bargains sounded magnificent, with the 2 classical recordings specifically giving the Klipsch Horns loads of dynamic to work with. 2 Hours of music for 2 pounds. I have to accompany the best girlfriend ever more to her little shopping trips.

2 Pounds worth of music