I rekindled an old love last night at the Monkey Chews near Chalk Farm station. The moment I saw the sheet music on stands in the corner, and I'm talking pure, genuINE readable sheet music with notes on staffs and everything, my heart jumped. And then the horn players sidled up to the stage and the electric guitarist bounced his strings and body on the off-beat of the drummer and I was in ska heaven.
It's not like I ever really gave up on ska, I just sort of stopped listening to it. Now that I've had overstated emo rock wearing down my tastes, not unlike the jackhammer outside my window that's been drilling into my brain these last few days (the neighbors next door are renovating) it's like I've been rejuvenated by the mostly happy music played in major keys. I owe my reunion to Hamfatter, an indie band that is apparently big stuff in Australia. By big stuff I mean they get to ride in a limousine to all their gigs. But last night we were privileged to hear them in an intimate room dressed with lamps and mirrors at the top of a narrow set of stairs in a bar that looked like it belonged in L.A. In the spirit of Australia I even drank a Fosters.
Ska. How I missed thee. Welcome home to my iPod.