In the pub
Last night I played a gig in a pub. That’s not unusual for me but this one had been originally planned for a manor house, then a back garden. The manor house had been double booked and the back garden, whilst being big enough, was too wet thanks to the pounding rain that had been coming down since Saturday.
The gig was a book launch, the book being a collection of lyrics. The songs were all originals and our meagre line-up (bass, piano, guitar) was joined by a stunning vocalist who had only learned her songs the night before. The invited audience seemed to enjoy the music but, more importantly, the pub regulars did too. We even got invited back.
For gear nerds and fans of Robert Fripp’s work you may like to know that I provided soundscapes before both sets by using my five string, fretless bass, an Eventide Picthfactor pedal (whoooosh, twingle, twingle, bleep) and a Boss delay pedal. No one complained.
After the gig was over and notes had been swapped on the fiddly details that only the people in the band care about I drove home and slept.
My dream, and I hope it’s not a symbolic one, involved me driving a Range Rover backwards around a, industrial looking building’s car park until, somehow, I had got it stuck… in a tree. No cheese or other mind altering drugs had been consumed.
The gig was a book launch, the book being a collection of lyrics. The songs were all originals and our meagre line-up (bass, piano, guitar) was joined by a stunning vocalist who had only learned her songs the night before. The invited audience seemed to enjoy the music but, more importantly, the pub regulars did too. We even got invited back.
For gear nerds and fans of Robert Fripp’s work you may like to know that I provided soundscapes before both sets by using my five string, fretless bass, an Eventide Picthfactor pedal (whoooosh, twingle, twingle, bleep) and a Boss delay pedal. No one complained.
After the gig was over and notes had been swapped on the fiddly details that only the people in the band care about I drove home and slept.
My dream, and I hope it’s not a symbolic one, involved me driving a Range Rover backwards around a, industrial looking building’s car park until, somehow, I had got it stuck… in a tree. No cheese or other mind altering drugs had been consumed.
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