There is an old muso saying: 'Shit rehearsal, good gig'.
Don't always work. Indeed it's usually the only way to play the next gig. Especially when the rehearsal is really bad. And trust me we did not want to play The Golden Lion last Friday, May 31. It was that bad.
It had started out badly when Mr Guiver . .. guitar and all round good egg . . .set off at half nine with Mr Alan (Bass Player- Bitten by Monkees) and again, all round good chap . . . and did not get to Bristol due to traffic problems until 2.30.
Very hot, Mr Davies . . . bass and all round lovely chappy . . . even hotter as has been suffering from virusy thingy and not sleeping . . . only coughing . . . and he looks ready to drop . . . of course in the betting stakes he is down to be the first to go so we always have to have the paddles ready just in case. Mr Seabright, drums and all round goodsleeper in skips, is grumpy whilst I am the personification of relaxed.
Try as we may we can't get into it and bitchin' at each other . . .oh alright I bitch at them.
So . . . shitty shitty shite shite.
No. 1 son is down . . . Kahn Johnson, comedian and alll round amazing chap . . . and he is distracting wildly. Forcing the old man out of the door to do a gig that he already knows is going to be a disaster and right on his doorstep too.
Skinny White and The Goods open. Good front man with excellent voice. Fab drummer and all round Televisionistic sound.
The crowd is small. Apparently, the sun has driven everyone to the parks and can't be encouraged in.
Glastonbury's Taranga show great promise and a huge Beatles influence. WTF? These guys are only about twelve. Watch 'em grow.
11pm and we go on. Suddenly there is a surge from the front of the pub. Thank goodness for that says I.
It's by in a flash as usual but there is something in it that feels like a performance. Not sure what but we have touched something different here.
Great buzz after. New song 'Accept' is talked about which is a great sign.
Owner Andy - see 'Idles' - is well pleased and a frantic few hours of partying takes place.
See . . . shit rehearsal good gig.
Where is the bloody time going?
Two weeks tonight we play Golden Lion
So, I reckon time to gee up the boys.
So I sends 'em a text saying basically, hope your solo rehearsing is going well . . . keep it up . . . ensure you come to the gig knowing the set plus these four songs.
I receive a telephone call from the drummer man who tells me he has managed to find an app that allows him to have all the songs in one place that will allow him to access them . . . (eh?) . . . all he has to do now is to get his computer working . . . (ah).
Then a text comes in from Mr Bass Man . . . 'why? what's happening in two weeks?' . . . he's joking . . .right?
From the guitar man not a thing . . . zilch . . .nada . . .
All in all SNAFU.
So it came . . . and it went . . . and it were great.
Guivey came down Wednesday night and I had a little bit too much to drink.
Thursday woke feeling slightly off-key.
Good days work. Came up with what we think is a stormer of a new track.
People downstairs from me came round with a bottle of wine to ask if we would go out the next day as they were having prospective buyers round. The bottle of wine they proffered as a bribe slipped down a treat. Didn't have the heart to say we were going to be out of the flat all day the next day anyway. Drank wine after coming back from a tour of local hostelries. Awoke Friday morning feeling even more off-key.
Much ribald digs at how unprofessional I was. Did I know that I had to work the next day? Why drink then? Cos my mate Guivey was down that's why so sod off and leave me alone. Bloody rhythm section.
So songs worked out:
Skinny Skinny (2013) - the stormer . . .sounded so good we decided we will debut this at The Golden Lion in Bristol May 31
(I'm just giving a little life to) China (2000)
Trying for the Sun (1985)
Aretha on the Radio (1984)
Holy Days (1985)
plus our version of a Neil Young song for live work - again to be debuted at The Golden Lion.
As you can see we are going back over the catalogue and resurrecting songs from different eras that we think will work and hopefully most will.
We are all well buzzed.
Laters Dickheads xx
Apologies for the interecession but I have been ill.
Whilst I am realiably informed that I had flu and that is why I feel like shite I soldiered on like the brave little soldier I is.
I've noticed that Mr Neil Taylor also has flu . . . but is being attended by his very own geisha girl . . .I'm fine on my own chaps . . .don't worry about me.
What is worrying is the inability of anyone in this band to remember anything that has occurred over the recent past. We can remember the songs from all those years ago but on the way out to see Mickey Flanagan I played Shugs a couple of demos we recorded 13 years ago. Complete blank was his response.
This morning I had to do Mr Seabright a favour and I played him the same tracks. He said that he had a vague recollection of the second one because of my repetitive raving on it.
Then this morning Mr Guiver sends me a track which, with the horribly out of tune guitar means that it can only have been played by me, yet I haven't the faintest recollection whatsoever.
Remind me . . . who are you again?
There's something about today's date that sends a shiver down me spine. Wonder why that is? It'll come back to me.
Talking to a friend about the Clash brought back memories of when we played Notre Dame in London a week after a famous Clash gig at the same place. Management had us pumped, press were in, A and R guys all over the place. Lights down.
Count in . . . 1 . . .2 . . .3 . . .4 . . .
Lights up . . . singer strikes pose . . . Guivey comes in playing one song . . . Sybs come in playing another . . . shugs stands staring wide eyed . . .
Honest . . . you can't make this shit up.
Winny (our website manager) looks like she had a great time with Mr Taylor t'other night.
PS Apologies to anyone I may have offended recently . . . you know who you are xx
So I gets a call from Sybs the Drummer Man. No he's not lost this time but he is afraid SOMETHING is lost.
He's afraid that Mr Guiver - guitarmanextraordinaire - has lost his marbles . . . a ukism for nuts, gaga, frooty loopy, mad as a bag of badgers (when I first heard this I asked why . . . man said if you were in a bag with other badgers wouldn't you be mad . . .good point).
Anyways, Sybs man is thinking the Guive has lost it cos he told him - Sybs got told by Guivey that is, keep up - that him and me were prepping wed and thurs this week and the band rehearsing Friday.
That is correct says I.
Now it fekkin aint says the drummerman. It's May 3 for rehearsal. That's this week says I.
Oh fek says the sybs its you aint it . . . you've lost a week . . .
Apparently this is so . . . I've lost a week of April and it took a man who got lost in Berlin without shoes at 5 in the morning to point this out to me.
Marbles . . .losing. . . yep, that's me that is.
So I thought that I would have an 'Honest Sunday' yesterday.
Unable to find anywhere to go to meet young ladies i have succumbed to the Internet. Had three dates last week . . . all perfectly lovely ladies but not a spark.
I suddenly thought that probably my . . . ahem . . . mercurial personality (ahem again|) might be the problem. I mean I just can't shut the fuck up. And the more I gabble, the more nervous I get and , we.., I'm not sure about the dates but I scare the shit out of me.
So I thought . . . let's get that elephant out in the open . . . no not that one Kahn Johnson . . . and let the ones I'm still talking to know about the band. Bollox I thought. Just get it out there.
So I wrote to each of them and said here's the website . . . I'm not doing the documentary yet . . .I aint that fekkin mad . . . and said this is me and my best mates and if its a problem just block me.
The results? Well two have come back and said essentially fekkin right on . . .let's meet.
One has written back that it was scary and she was blocking me. One that it was scary and she aint blocking me. The others have not replied which I reckon is a result!
Get in . . .
Well the trawling through the back catalogue is throwing up some surprises . . . some good, some not so bloody good.
For example. Giving a hand to China was written about thirteen years ago and was one that we tried in a get together in June 2000. A very traumatic yet sooooo exciting period of my life. I came upon a recording of the session which is pretty shit throughout BUT 'China' actually worked. A nice surprise.
I then, yesterday, came across a CD with the word 'Dicks' written on it by the cursive hand of one Mr Titty Taylor. WTF? was of course my first thought. Then when I slipped it into the computer I was delighted to find it was about half a dozen songs I had written for the newly resurrected Dicks 5 years ago whilst on holiday in Florida. Coincidentally, I had only been speaking to my daughter EJ about that very thing only last Sunday.
So I was excited to think there had to be at least ONE that we could revisit. There had to be hadn't there? Nope. It was all shite. Complete and utter bollox.
So I would like to take this opportunity to thank Mr Taylor for giving up a day of his time to help me record them and to also publicly apologise for putting him through such pain. You should've told me boy, you should've told me. He's such a nice bloke y'know.
The search for songs that had disappeared continues apace. Found some tracks that me and Guivey wrote mid 80s and I reckon there's a chance one or two of them could stand a workout with the boys.
Had a date recently with a woman who badgered me into seeing the documentary. Good to know that it captures the spirit of the band cos I aint heard from her again.
Hopefully will have London date soon . . . just reciprocated with Brad from Monkish and got them a Bristol gig when they return from the states.
Looking at venues and dates as I type.