This was a late addition to my itinerary, only added in the morning as I saw a tweet regarding the line up. As you might guess it was a compilation show featuring three acts - the first was an African vocal / guitar group called The Freetown Collective, the second a certain female vocal group called The Three Belles and the third an act I shamefully neither stayed for nor can remember her name.
First up was The Freetown Collective, featuring three incredible female singers, a male vocalist with a guitar and Rasta hat and a dreadlocked rhythm guitarist. Their sound was, umm, rather popular-African I s'pose. All original songs as far as I could tell. What a lovely noise - incredible harmonies from the women and, in a better venue with a bigger crowd it could've generated quite an atmosphere. The women were also very easy on the eye (hey, they were right in front of me and I couldn't help noticing). Excellent entertainment - they're on that Facebook and Instagram that they have these days.
There was then an interval where I was thoroughly ripped off for a glass of wine. And then the reason why I was there and had changed my plans - The Three Belles.
I've been following the adventures of the girls for a few years now and I saw them at the Fringe last year in their saucy London Life show (FULL DISCLOSURE - I contributed to the funding of that show). I like them (yes, I know that makes me sound like some kind of creepy stalker). So, as I was milling about the foyer before the show I was surprised when Betty, Gail and Dorothy appeared in costume and started chatting to the folks. Clearly this was a chance to say hello, introduce myself and ask for a cheeky wee selfie ("Hi! It's nice to finally meet the Belles! My name's Michael"). Instead my stomach dropped alarmingly and I slunk off to one side pretending not to recognise them (thus making me look like an even bigger pervert). Very discombobulating - it's been a while since I've had that panicked reaction (probably the last time I considered approaching a girl).
The Belles were brilliant, as they always are. They performed six songs, starting with In The Mood and ending with Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend. During the set they were pimping their CD (fair enough, it's the Fringe) and said they'd be around at the end of the gig to sell copies, sign them and meet the audience. "Great!" I thought, "A chance to finally meet the Belles and get some signed merchandise to rival McGeeney and Stewart's Ortega merch. Maybe even that cheeky wee selfie!" So OF COURSE I bottled it and left after their set. In my defence I DID have another gig to get to. Needless to say I felt like such a pathetic old fool walking back from the New Town Theatre to The Stand. Idiot.
Ho hum ...
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