Shed picture #2

Teach you to mess with me motherfucker.

Chicken

Chicken dance like elastic band.

Pay-up

Not coming?
Too bad.
May be you weren't invited- really sad.
Got an invite and just sitting on it thinking something better might happen- not likely.
Changed your mind?
Pay up sucka!

Dawn

Drinking til the early hours of the morning is never a good start for a day that you know will end with drinking til the early hours of the morning. But those were the cards that were dealt and the hand I had to play. Saturday night was a clubhouse type of affair with a bunch of cool guys 20 miles away and was a landmark journey for Ol Blue the camper van. She buzzed along nicely there and back and mostly protected us from rain over night. She's got a lot of work that needs doing but she's mobile and legal right now and that is good enough for me as I've got a couple of overnight gigs shortly and she will be my home from home.

I hadn't realised how rough I felt til the adrenaline from the return journey had worn off; good call to stick to back roads I think. After a little time spent getting our heads together we packed and set off for Hesket Newmarket which is the the first big event of the new riding season. The turnout of vintage machines was lower than usual presumably because it had rained horribly for a couple of days and when you have exposed tappets or a leather drive belt i'm not at all surprised. The procession of well used vintage bikes came and went as the sun slowly set and the beer started to go down easier. Before I knew it last orders had been called both for beer and conversation. We covered some really interesting topics and it was nice to talk to people with common interests and similar problems. New friends made, old friends remembered and allegiances forged. Drifting back to the campsite we made yet more new friends around the campfire and sang all the campfire songs we knew until we had to make some up. As usual it was dawn as we went to bed. It has been said that one should watch a sunrise at least once a year. After a bad start to the year it felt wholesome.

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.

Goon Movie

I love The Goon. Stumbled upon it shortly before Hellboy had gone totally mainstream. It's a shame that success fucks something up when the reason for its success is it's underground, subversive and cult appeal, once it turns mainstream the money steers it towards safe and mass appeal and Boom! It's fucked! The trailer makes this look good tho and may be the Goon is tough enough to resist the mainstream; everyday stories of love and loss set against a backdrop of gangsters, zombies and voodoo priests.

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.