Winter draweth on. The old seasonal melancholy is set to start snowing down. I was telling a friend the other day, "When you get old, you just want what you're used to." I think I'm used to this sinking sensation of wintertime.
Played another solo show tonight. This time it was at Fourth Floor in Kichijoji. The walls are deep red and it's so smoky, you half expect a mustachioed devil or two to pop out, with pitchforks.
First to play: Ryota Fujiwara. A poppy sort of folk. A male singer on acoustic guitar and harmonica. His site.
Third: Gurupari. An eccentric quavery running style of unpredictable music, maybe folk. A talk after the show revealed that he's actually homeless...
I was last. Set list:
So. As usual, I'll end with a few songs (which have nothing to do with me, but for the fact that I like them).