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.

Shack party

Up til the 1970s the A6 was the main north-south route on the west into Scotland. On the highest point of this road there is a tiny little brick hut that was owned by British telecom. Surplus to requirement in the modern digital world this hut was auctioned off and an acquaintance of mine bought it with the express purpose of putting gigs on every full moon. It's much bigger inside than it appears and upstairs (yes, there are 2 floors) in the music room I could just about stand my bass up but had to crouch to play it. We played an hour of the finest hobo music known to man, got drunk and had a great if very snug gig. We met David at the top after he had just celebrated his halfway point on the Lands End to John O'Groats unicycle trip. It's not every day you unicycle to the top of a mountain pass on a thousand mile trip and get invited to a party in the only building as far as the eye can see.

Fire

The smoke of the fire mingled with the typical smog of bonfire night spreading the coloured explosions of the fireworks into more of a blur than sharp scattering of sparks. Most of the crowd seemed to be heavily laid back and getting into pattern and colour by that point of the evening. The sound of the double bass carried remarkably well as we experimented with different instruments, different styles and different wavelengths. It all worked well leaving everyone with a warm glow.

Happy Days #1

Flying along in Ol Blue, door open in the sunshine, at who knows what speed (speedo broke but probably less than 60mph), puffing upon the lovely St Johns tobacco sent to me by Rowan, listening to the cd made by the immensely talented Alex and the Wanderband with whom I had the pleasure of standing in on double bass at a wedding last night. We had one practice of the set comprising some complex folk, Balkan, jazz and blues. I acquit myself by the very seat of my pants. Sometimes it's rewarding to challenge yourself to the limit of your ability. I was nervous but fairly confident in my 5 pages of notes. The crowd was chilled and everything fell perfectly into place. I left the campfire with a pang that I hadn't taken Ol Blue and stayed overnight to jam but I have a gig with the Moonshine Daddies today at 4 so sense prevailed.

Tough

You only get tough from taking a beating. You only stay tough from taking regular beatings. I played my third gig in three days on the bass and I can feel all kinds of different pain from every little part of my finger ends. It got so bad that slapping was easier than plucking. Even then I burnt out my first and second reserve fingers. That just leaves me with my little finger and one more gig to play; I'm not sure those figures add up. Tomorrow I will present myself ready to play with some trepidation. I have a fear that one of my fingers will spurt a magnificent arc of crimson over the audience mid way through the first set regardless of how I will get to the end of the second. Lee Rocker once posted on his web site that he was getting up to speed on their tour because he'd played til his callouses blistered and bled. Respect is due. As it was when Dizzy had to play through cracked and broken lips because that was his job. When I was a kid music seemed like an easy option. Not so easy now.