The Birdcage is a weird venue with little pixie boy barmen. I like little pixie boy barmen, they make nice G&T’s with Tanqueray.
It’s a weird venue because there is a lot going on in there. Cakes next to beer, shoes and clothes for sale next to coffee machines, huge sofas next to a tiny stage underneath a load of bicycles stuck to the wall. It’s all very confusing. The best bit about this place is the hallway and the loo. The walls are covered in pages from 70’s and 80’s music magazines, Playboy, the odd gay propaganda flyer and classical music manuscript. That I like a lot.
It wasn’t full at all but some stupid fucking bint stood in front of me and sometimes on me so my view of the stage was restricted. She was clearly blind or very very thick, I’m a 10 stone 5ft 6 ginger woman, and I’m hard to miss.
Vents are 2 people, 2 gorgeously discordant guitars, one amazing voice and a backing track. Things went wrong but no one cared, I had fun. The singer Emily is a whole lot prettier than the light makes her look in the photo and even if she was piss shit ugly no one would care, she has great legs and like I said, an amazing voice. She’s all the best bits of Patti Smith with a bit of Siouxsie Sioux that can actually sing in tune.
You can see for yourself here: