The first ever Songwriters’ Round was a reasonably pleasant affair broken too often by a bunch of unappreciative ingrates in the screened-off area behind where we were sitting. I don’t think they were even here for that. Towards the end, they were making fun of one of the performers.It certainly wasn’t an improvement of my mood after sitting through Land of the Dead in front of a bunch of brats who were so disappointed that this is nothing like… oh, I don’t know, Resident Evil maybe… that a couple of them chattered loudly in Chinese about how boring it was and how it wasn’t what they expected.
I realise that PMS Week is starting, my head is getting fuzzy and I’m getting more blur than usual. I’m not quite up to the toss-people-out-on-their-ears stage yet, but we’ll get there. Great time to start blogging again.
Anyway, Songwriters’ Round was held at this bar called Mojo, inside Denise the Wine Shop. It’s fairly new and is a posh-looking place, although the lighting is not really meant for photography. Maclean and I were having trouble getting clear shots.
I thought Maclean was attached to a publication, but he gave me his card and it’s not a publication. Heh. I also finally met Sharon from The Star, after hearing so many people mention her, and we lasped into shoptalk almost immediately.
There are plans for other Songwriters’ Rounds in the future, which is good. I’m generally more interested in solo acts.
I’m also always pleased to meet anyone who recognises Kuching for the boring dump it is but are willing to do something about it instead of just grumbling that nothing ever happens here.
People came, people left. I recognised a handful of them as friends of friends, business associates or from astronomically expensive dinner events. The wine & song scene would attract the yuppies rather than the younger demographic who shows up at PUAS or Lord of the Bands.
Jennifer was one of those who came and left, but she didn’t leave before arranging a radio interview with the trio who performed tonight.
Or last night rather. It’s way past my bedtime again.