Mumbo jumbo

Well, you've got to believe in something.

Better

If I were to write a book on how to be successful it would be called "Work hard, make good choices". The working hard bit is up to you but if you want to make a good choice, go get some Closedmondays. I've been ageing the new classic biker wallet since the Trip Out. It's like the classic biker wallet we all loved back in the day, you remember; the only biker wallet that you could get back then, only better. Much better.

Danger, danger, high voltage!

Smoked Ghost Chilli powder.

It's gonna hurt.

Buzzing

Even though at the time it just seemed like another rake of gigs I think I've just finished playing probably the biggest musical weekend of my life so far. I only say that because I'm still buzzing two days later. It's wrecked my brain being so focused for so few gigs but it's been an amazing experience. If I remember I'll link this post up so you can sample some of the music but if I don't you'll just have to dig it up yourselves. I was playing for Katus all weekend but we supported Whiskey Moon Face for the first night and I swear I am so in love with that band I could cry.

Old-timey

Just

one

more

ukulele...

I don't really care that most people don't get it, I'm fairly obsessed with ukes at the moment. I'm thinking of writing songs again, in the old-timey fashion and this little beauty has the perfect sound for it.

Limitations

I think it was in a Dirty Harry film or Coogans Bluff where Clint says "A man's got to know his limitations". To me it's one of Clint's seminal lines and I'm reminded of it when I have got to just about as far as I can get without my head exploding.

I'm just recovering from organising a friends band from Denmark to play a mini tour of Cumbria. Arranging the gigs (and let's face it- there were only three) was one thing, sorting out the other bits and bobs was a whole different level of headache. Anyway, after all that the band were awesome and just got better every gig. That was nice because it was my own gig that was the final night.

As a thank you they brought me some Gammel Danske. It's like Jaegermeister but without the hype; it's bitter but it's nice. I remember cold Danish mornings being served pickled herrings and Gammel Danske for breakfast- nice.

If you like blues check out Delta Shakedown.

Ghosts

Grief is a funny thing. You can't rush it and you can't dodge it. It seems like every time I go for a big ride I'm chasing ghosts. To be more specific, Johnny's ghost. We rode so many miles together to all the best parties. But he is gone. That's a cold, blunt fact.

On the way to The Trip Out I taunted myself with staying overnight at a place we went before on the way to The Hayride but plainly he wasn't there. I was chasing ghosts again. Guy pointed me in the right direction, straight after biker yoga. It was like a smack to the back of the head when I clapped eyes on it; Johnny's ghost. I spent a bit of time crawling around it in almost disbelief but a frame mount, then a brake rod, the rear axle nuts and on and on... this was Johnny's bike. I don't know what I expected to feel but I wasn't feeling it. I was a bit excited, a bit sad, a bit... dunno.

It was good to see it. There were no ghosts here either. This WAS Johnny's bike but it isn't any more. The new owner has done exactly as he should have done; he made it his own. Thereby exorcising the machine. To me it would have remained an heirloom but now it's a super sweet ride in a similar mold but different. I loved what he's done with it (but I would still put mini apes on it). I wished I could have caught up with the new owner to jibber at him a bit about the bike. He might have been really polite and listened to me for a bit and that would have been nice.

Intimate

How do you get back from the Trip Out? One answer is to just reverse the journey. But can you ever really reverse any journey? The paths may stay the same but the experiences change. Whatever, the Trip Out was awesome. I'm struggling to return to real life. Excellent party with great people. It's growing fast so if you like the intimate party you might miss your chance if you don't go soon. The go-go dancers were fabulous.

Awkward.

Oh yeah, I remember now; I play guitar. It's a bit of a shock to the system when all you do is play bass all the time. Feels a bit awkward especially in the solos. But it was hellish good fun.

Distinguished

I had heard is said somewhere that man was distinguished from animals by his use of tools... that's it Jonny, use the 'fine adjuster'.

Respectable

My new rum receptacle. I'm no bum I'm respectable.

Dragonfly

What the fuck is this place? It calls itself a museum but it's like a garage crossed with Aladdin's cave. Maybe it's Aladdins garage. Tons of old bicycles, classic motorcycles, cars, domestic and agricultural machinery, carbolic soap, train stuff. It was a good investment at £3 entry for two of us as we waited for a storm to blow over on our way home. The Douglas Dragonfly was immaculate.

Rock Ridge Rumble

I've just returned from the north of England's finest rockabilly weekender. Actually I'm not aware of another one so it might be the north of England's only rockabilly weekender. Whatever, it was a great party. It's not quite the Hayride nor is it not trying to be but it is great if you like rockabilly, beer and dancing and I think it might grow into something special. I will certainly be going again and next time the high Pennine roads might not be such a slog- pretty much stormy all the way there and most of the way back but the triumph wasn't bothered.

Spanners

Ahh, the jangle and clang of spanners as you knock the overloaded tool board, made in haste many years ago from poor materials when fewer spanners were needed. Finally fed up I made a new one. Easy to lift off to take to the job if necessary. I might even paint it and put a handle on top eventually. Now every spanner including a King Dick has a secure home. If you get too close it still looks shonky like I made it in a hurry but that's part of its charm.

Analogue.

 

I only took my new hipster camera to Linkert Attacks and got surprisingly better results than I had ever got before. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the booze. Here are the best. One was taken on the bike at about 40mph pointing backwards- I'm pleased with that one. The rest have no other effect than the camera, the film and my own ability. Pure hipster analogue joy.

Every last drop.

Linkert Attacks... again. There's nothing much to say beyond what's already been said but if you squeeze every last drop out of it you never stop laughing, dancing and riding. For just a weekend away, albeit a long one, I feel like I've been away for months. Needless to say 45s rock!

If you look closely you might see a Gaz Archer original. SSIG

Bush-man

Sometimes it doesn't matter how hungry you are, lunch will be ready when it's ready. It doesn't help when the mission at hand is to cook using my Panhead pan, over an open fire, lit using a fire-steel. It sure took a while but once it was ready it was... well, it was just like any meal you'd make on a gas hob only I felt like a bush-man while I ate it... in my back garden... in the middle of the day.

Hipster

Jeez, I think I've turned into a hipster. I just bought this plastic camera that uses 35mm film and takes pretty awful pictures unless you start learning about shutter speed and aperture. Needless to say I haven't taken a good picture yet. I've taken loads of bad ones tho. Some are so bad they're pretty cool, ironic huh?

Fucking hipster!

But seriously, there's lots of stuff that hipsters dig that I also dig: real coffee, selvedge denim, jazz, beards, old motorcycles, vinyl, steel frame bicycles, and so on. But I still don't class myself as a hipster mostly because, in my opinion, the hipster only inhabits a scene while it's hip and then blows where the wind takes him. Thus he doesn't have enough time to learn the intricacies and mores of that scene. Some cats get into it and stick around and lose the title of hipster. In that case weren't we all hipsters once? As a budding rockabilly and biker I hung around the scene til I figured out what was what. Wait, does that make me a scenester? (Maybe a scenester hangs around a particular scene while a hipster only hangs around a hip scene- I don't know). What I believe is that once you gain the secret knowledge you can, if you want, become truly part of a scene.

After all that I suppose I'm trying to say that I'm not too bothered with hipsters. The idiots will blow away once the wind changes and the ones that stay will probably be quite cool. In fact I feel a bit sorry for the real hipsters because most high-street shops are selling the instant hipster uniform so now all the lowest common denominator fashion junkies can look like hipsters too so the real hipsters are being swallowed up by a bigger group of idiots.

Like the joke says- How do you drown a hipster?

In the mainstream!

Haha, funny. Ironic but funny.

Gypsy

Playing upright bass has opened up a world of music to me that I never imagined. It's not often you get to play on a gypsy caravan stage under a full moon.

Rock n Roll

Just setting up for a local late afternoon gig when who should walk in the joint, none other than Big Elly from the Tex Speed Combo; a band I watched tear up the Hayride a couple of years ago. First band of the weekend and nothing hit the mark quite like them all weekend. We're still quite heavily rock n roll as we haven't changed the set much since Christmas (still!!) so we aren't in the same league as them but he had his thumbs up and looked like he was enjoying it til he had to run for his train home. Excellent fella and awesome band.

Now just chilling with some brown beer, a pipe of tobacco and a summer evening bonfire. We played well tonight which was nice. Last night we weren't quite so good but hey, that's rock n roll.

BSAmaha

It's one of those bikes you recognise but can't figure it out and then all of a sudden you see it and it's all like, OMG, WTF? The owners name is Yammie; should have been a big enough clue.

Soul

Yeah, so I've been away a long time.

What can I say, I fell out of love. I fell out of love with a lot of things. At least I thought I did. When I started this blog I gave myself a mission statement and that still holds true. There's still a lot of stuff I want to share so I guess I'll carry on the monologue for a bit.

I was inspired by reading an article that said vehicles do not possess a soul. It went on for ages about how some vehicle owners desire to ascribe certain characteristics to an object. Blah blah blah but in my opinion essentially correct. Vehicles do not possess a soul (also it must be said that it has not been proven that a soul even exists). They do not possess A soul but some vehicles do have soul. What that means to me is that a craftsman has imbued an object with a certain amount of energy through a construction process and this energy inspires the subsequent owners. I recently acquired this early 80s Dave Yates racing bicycle and have been obsessing about getting it to a particular specification. I'm close now, just a few more bits and I'll be happy. I stand back and look at this beauty and it sings to me. It sings a song of joy to my heart.

Hula Boy

We went to The Wet Spot burlesque on the weekend. There were lots of talented ladies artistically removing their garments but the only photo I took in the venue was of Craig The Incredible Hula Boy. He was indeed incredible- very amusing act, well worth seeing if you get the chance. I wore my Old Town fully lined Harris tweed trousers and while they look nice they are hellish warm to jive in.

Studio

I love going to the studio especially when I'm getting paid to go. Hours spent driving, tweaking knobs, moving cars, trying to find cashpoints, eating and drinking, with the occasional song played in between. Actually those were the things that got in the way of an otherwise quite productive day. My advice- never try do anything in one take unless you want to play the same song a hundred times.

Homemade Cider

I know it works cos I can't see straight.