I’m supposed to be making good use of my free ticket to the Hyde Park Calling festival this afternoon and watching Crowded House live. Sadly, I’m not there. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: having a bad back sucks. It sucks at the best of times, but having my most painful day in nearly two years on the very same day I’m supposed to be watching my favourite band sucks so hard it, uh, blows. (Which is an expression I’ve never really understood, but it does seem to sum up the feeling.)
Instead I’m watching re-runs of Dark Angel on Sci Fi and marvelling at how young Jensen Ackles looks, how funny Joshua is and how JC MacKenzie’s Normal is the best thing about the whole series (“Bip bip bip!”). I’m also paying tribute to Crowded House by drinking a can of the Kiwi drink L&P after it was recommended to me by my friend Jeff the other night – which reminds me, funny story:
Jeff, who I hadn’t seen in nearly three years, is the kind of guy you can always rely on to spin a good yarn. He’s also an old friend of Peter Jackson’s, which means he’s full of amusing, Rings– or Kong-related stories. Annoyingly, I can’t repeat many of them here, but he did tell me one that made me chuckle…
Apparently Jeff met up with Peter when the London Philharmonic Orchestra were recording the soundtrack for The Return Of The King at Watford Town Hall. (Yes, Watford Town Hall. That’s the glamorous location used to lay down the music that went on to win an Oscar. Go figure.) Anyway, they were just getting into the swing of things that evening when suddenly everybody started packing up. Puzzled – because it wasn’t really that late, and the musicians had been on a roll – Jeff asked someone why they were leaving.
“It’s because we’ve got to be out of here by 10pm,” said the guy.
“Really?” replied Jeff, surprised. “Why’s that, then?”
“Because there’s a disco on at 11pm.”
So that’s the London Philharmonic, recording an Oscar-winning score on what was to become THE SECOND-BIGGEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME, kicked out of their studio by a town hall disco.
There’s something so ridiculously British about that…