Things to ponder on a sore head

The morning after. Foggy, just a bit. Too much Doris' 90th Birthday Ale at a very small music festival. After the work was done and all the PA equipment was packed away the drinking began in earnest. It's not that I hadn't been drinking since 2pm- I just sped up. We played music well into the night until the whole thing became a bit of a mess. Stood by Doris' own chair, eating free chips and trying to concentrate on calculating chords on capo-ed guitars, banjos and penny whistles I looked up to this poignant message on the bottom of a tankard hung from the ceiling. Sobering.

There was a one-eyed dog called Seymore there (see more- geddit?). Was he named after he lost his eye? Was it ironic he lost an eye? Or in a completely philosophical way could a one-eyed dog really see more? He was a sweet dog whatever.

Stark

A surprise was waiting at my local session. Jamie was already a talented guitarist before he left for music college. His homecoming saw him laying down a surprise gig for us for bed and board before heading back to Brighton. They play a nice mix of folk and blues without trying to sound like Led Zep and create some superb rocking grooves. I will be getting them to play a gig up here next time they pass.

POPITY POP

Crazy vibe for motorcyclists.  

By Slim Gaillard featuring Bird and Dizzy in the band. 

 Enjoy.

Sound

Once again my tiny little PA strode into action like "The Little Engine That Could" and performed faultlessly despite my own lack of confidence. The power amp is a MOSFET, which is almost indestructible- so I'm told. You could cook a meal on it by the end of the gig and the thermal fan still hadn't kicked in.
The main band was eventually defeated by sub-standard guitar strings which was a shame because they were pretty good. I was a little disappointed that the crowd let them off so easy but I obviously don't understand the stresses on the modern-day touring band or for that matter the stresses on the modern-day mid-week music audience.
The band had made the Mercury Music Prize long list and as such had some kudos. The sound-check could have been easier if the musicians had a clue about what they wanted to sound like but I got the feeling they would have rather been anywhere else than right here, right now. Eventually intervention was appropriate and with a few minor adjustments the mix came right; loud does not always equal good. My ears are just about shot to bits from too much loud music and motorbikes but I can still hear the difference between a good and a bad mix.
The band picked up and split like there was somewhere they had to be.
The drummer took a moment to say thanks and that was very cool.
I wished him well on his quest for fame.
He seemed tired.

Marcus

So I get this call saying "Do you want to set up the gig now or what?" and I'm a little bit like "er- i'm watching Dr Who on the iPlayer right now" but then I think "it might be quite useful to set up right now actually". Anyway, we're part way though setting up when the act turns up and I'm like "wow, you're lucky we're even here" and he's like "cool, whatever". Anyway- we sound-check and are totally at a loose end for the rest of the day. So we get back to my place, chat, have a coffee or two, jam some stuff- this is like the best day of my life, but I'm totally keeping a lid on it if you know what I mean. Anyway, we get to the gig and it turns out he's only the best fucking bluesman you ever heard- check him out... Marcusbonifanti.com.

Dirtbagging

Travelling light; blanket, bedroll and tarp. Even then I over-packed- I didn't need the bedroll or the tarp. Crashed out on a hay bale under a blanket after beers and jamming til 4am with some very cool people at a local mini festival. There's a good scene here when you look for it and make the effort to get to events. Notes to self; hay bales are not comfortable, absinthe is brutal.

You got the teeth of the Hydra upon you

The Pistoleros lay down a blistering set of the most complicated Led Zep you can imagine together with some kick ass T-Rex at Stormin the Castle. Skinny as a rake and with his foppish dark curls the lead singer/guitarist is perfectly placed between Bolan and Page in looks as well as talent.