Good evening readers, I hope you're settling down with a cup of tea - perhaps a cushion for your bottom? - you may be in for a long'un.
As I write this, my dinner is cooking in the oven, quite late really, except I have been writing a song. I don't know if I've ever described this to you or not (most likely I have), but I have a sense when something wants to be written. Imagine walking home & seeing a few dark clouds on the horizon & thinking a storm's on the way. Then there's that feeling when the air feels like it's swelling up with potential rain. Then it pisses down. That's almost what my head does when a song's due. At which point my lyric book needs to be in a nearby pocket (preferably my own), because something will appear - it may be a drum part, it may be a melody, it may be the entire first line of the song, but whatever it is becomes the spine around which I build the song.
I would also recommend not going to a supermarket when a larval-stage song is rolling around your noggin, because it can be so easy to let the instore music squeeze down your aural canal & strangle whatever it is that's gestating. I was in a supermarket earlier on today, and I can assure you it's the "classics" which are the worst. The opening bars to Sweet Home Alabama burst out of the speakers and I promise I was mere kilojoules of energy short of jamming both hand down my ears.
I've had the feeling this song would come for days, and the time it picked to ping into existence was on a busy day when I'd never have chance to write it down properly. Cheers Brain, yer a pal.
I am happy with this song, as happy as I've been with anything, because everything seems to have the right sound (at least internally) as I'm writing it. I hope I can share these songs with you sooner rather than later, the need to get crackin' rains down on me daily.
[oven buzzer has gone, talk amongst yourselves for a bit]
Hello again, I'm back! [wipes pie gravy from chin] What I could really do with now is a tub of yoghurt (preferably Greek honey), and it's moments like this I remember being in supermarkets and failing to buy such produce. I've actually taken my own advice and brewed a nice, big, hot cup of tea before I get stuck into the events of the last few days, because, as readers of an earlier blog will remember, I had been getting ready to do quite a lot. Namely (in chronological order): Play a song with my friend's band; partake of a busking competition; perform a set at a charity event at de.bees in Cheshire. Before I go onto that though, I would like to impart unto you the ideal conditions for a proper cup of tea (bearing in mind I don't like my tea too strong).
First: get a big mug - I can't emphasise enough the fact that a small mug of tea is just not satisfying. It's nice, but it's like someone cooking up a massive batch of hot dog sausages & just handing you the end of the smallest one. Knickers to that - get a bucket if you have to, just so long as it's more than a pig's mouthful*
Second: Pour some milk into the mug first. This may seem odd to some of you (it seemed odd to me when I used to watch my parents make a cuppa, but Christ, it makes sense!). I'm not sure how much milk is best, as I'm lousy with measurements, so go for more than might fit in, say, a snake's head.
Third: Pour in hot water (perhaps this should be the fourth point, and point one should be "boil the kettle", but for one thing that seemed bleedin' obvious and for another, it's too late now so if you're complaining, stop it and carry on reading), and pour it as close as you feel comfortable to the brim of the mug,
Fourth: If, like me, you hate washing teaspoons (and if you don't have sugar in your tea), get a teabag, give it a good shake to get all those loose granules off the surface, and then dunk the tea bag in as you might a biscuit (shit, I haven't got any biscuits - there's a way to remind myself, eh?), several times. For me this is infinitely preferable to squeezing the life out of it with a teaspoon against the inside of the mug.
If you follow these tips, you will have a lovely, flavoursome cup of tea, which you can savour over a few episodes of Look Around You, or one episode of Quantum Leap. See? You don't just get dull reportage, you get lifestyle tips as well.
Right: the weekend! (Still with me? Good!) Friday night was the night Our Mutual Friend played a support gig for The Control at The Full Moon in Newcastle-under-Lyme. They had been very kind and learned to play my song, "Dirty Badger". They did very well too, which made it all the more embarrassing when I flubbed my guitar solo in the soundcheck. The soundcheck was an interesting affair anyway, when I unfurled my amp & pedals, and only had one feasible power outlet to which both would not stretch, assuming I kept my pedals where I could see them (which, as any guitar pedal conoisseur will you, is the best way to keep them). In the end I gave up and put my pedals on top of my amp, because there was no lead that would reach them otherwise. This meant that during the guitar solo, I had to operate my wah pedal facing away from the audience, and with my leg at a right-angle to my torso. I am told it looked "awesome", so I may bear this in mind for the next electric gig I have. Although "I've Still Got Your Blood On My Curtains" could end up resembling a backwards a-rhythmic Riverdance if I adopt that approach again... In any case, Our Mutual Friend were brilliant, and I can't wait to see their show at The Artrix Theatre, where I'll also be opening the night for them. They're great, musically & lyrically, go and Google them!
Actually, finish read this first. Then Google them. Cheers.
Saturday was the busking competition as part of Stone Music Festival. I have never busked before, and that was the main reason behind me doing this. It was a lot of fun, with some of the interactions between me & passers-by being faintly amusing. I was a little disconcerted to see no awnings, umbrellas or coverings of any kind when I was directed to my busking spot, and my fears were further justified when five or so minutes into my hour, the heavens opened & rained heavily on me & my guitar for about two minutes.** As the rain died down, I elected to play Crowded House's perennial hit "Weather With You", at which a chirpy man in a flat cap, strolled by & called "Good choice!" wile pointing comedically at the sky. Had he heard me play "Four Seasons In One Day" after the second minature deluge, doubtless he would have said the same.
Over the course of the hour I played a mix of my own songs & songs people might recognise, and at one point a man in a luminous yellow jacket stood in front of me, listening intently. I panicked, assuming him to be a judge, and misguidedly launched myself into a cover of No One Knows by Queens Of The Stone Age, at which I went to pieces. He put a pound coin in my guitar case, turned around, and could not help but notice the word "STEWARD" emblazoned on his back. I will not lie, readers, I was relieved. But at the same time I wanted to kick him.
My hour finished, and I had enough money in my guitar case to make back the money spent getting there on the bus. I was happy with this as a result, and am glad to say I enjoyed the busking. The guys who won the competition, Joey Preece & Dave Dove, are a fine pair of musicians, and make a good duo. They form two-fifths of Bearfoot, who host the open mic at The Rigger, and as anyone who has seen themm will testify, they're bloody good.
I had yet to eat at this point, so made my way home for a pub dinner and a marvellous text-message conversation with a lovely new friend of mine about social awkwardness (she once inadvertently whistled "Dude Looks Like A Lady" in front of two transvestites - I love her for this). From there I got a bunch of flyers photocopied, whilst listening to Gemma Hayes' new album 'Let It Break', which is a brilliant album, although I suspect my mp3 player may have played the tracks in the wrong order. I will need to sit at home & listen to it, as is my usual custom.
Sunday. Lovely, lovely Sunday. I travelled to de.bees in Winsford for a charity event in support of Christie's, and I travelled down with MEME and the people related therein, and it was a really pleasant journey & wonderful afternoon. Although I should mention that I can't seem to travel to a new town without ending up on a ramble for at least half an hour.
Sheffield is the worst. I have been to Sheffield city centre on three occasions (I know there will be a fourth, and that it will not differ), and on each one I have walked around its cruel maze for at leat two hours, shirt sticking to my sweaty torso in fatigue & tears of desperation clogging my eyeholes. The last time this happened (when I went to see Gemma Hayes at the Leadmill, coincidentally), I gave up the search & flagged a taxi, who drove me round a corner & charged me £4. Bastard.
The decisive point came when I said to my friends, "I'm going to try & find a cashpoint." Directions were given, and I set out in entirely the wrong way. My friends & I had been misdirected, it seemed. The first two routes I took lead me to increasingly desolate stretches of derelict suburbia, and it became increasingly obvious that, on a Sunday, Winsford is, by and large, shut. I was also becoming concerned that my choices were becoming: "Either this town has a cashpoint, or the people of Winsford print their own money!" although I should point out that this conclusion was more to do with my geographical ineptitude rather than, say, a complete absence of amenities.
I arrived back at the bar a tidy forty minutes later, and immediately bought some beer. A running order had been left for our perusal which said MEME were on at 7pm. My name was at the bottom of the list. With a question mark by it. Nothing worries one more than instances like this, but I put it to the back of my mind & enjoyed the frankly excellent live music that was being produced from the stage. There were some great acts on that day, including Arthur's Vision, whom I recommend you check out. An acoustic duo also played, who were very good, but had a bit of a strop at the sound man after a song.
A tip for the budding musicans among you: If you have an issue with what you're hearing through the monitors (maybe you can't hear your vocals properly, or perhaps your guitar is being overpowered by your heavy breathing), ask the sound man nicely if he could tweak your mic level or whatever. DON'T shout "Oi, could we do summit about these monitors, I can't hear f**k all through this, it's all guitar!" It does not make you look terribly professional. Or pleasant. He will be far more willing you to help you if you're nice.
My set was brief, but fun. I played directly after MEME (again, brilliant band, check-a dem out!), appropriately seeing as we'd travelled together, and it was nice to see a bit of headbanging for "Blood On My Curtains", and a slight hush during "Imagine If We Fell In Love". I should give massive props to Sarah & Liv, who did good work distributing a few of my flyers around the bar. I put a few around also, but suddenly felt quite self-conscious about it. I did notice the gents had a pinboard above the urinals, so I pinned one there, just as a bloke came in to use the facilities. I ran off.***
So all in all, it's been a fun musical weekend. Full of laughs, unexpected moments & general japery. I really enjoyed it. I hope you've enjoyed reading about it. And think of what we've shared in the telling, since this blog started I have made dinner, eaten it, made a cuppa, drank it, and even imparted my tea-making method to you, the charming, discerning reader (you really are rather pretty, you know - your eyes sparkle. Do you do yoga?).
It's now time for me to go & get a good night's shuteye before the rigours of another day. There will be more adventures and ruminations soon, so keep them peeled! In the meantime, have fun & be safe. If you can't be safe, be seen.
Lots of love,
John.xx
*not an official tea measurement
**My guitar is safe & well, you will be happy to hear.
***What does one say at this point? "I want you to look at my face while you wee!" Hardly!
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