It is an incontrovertible truth, just like the inevitability of barbecue rain, inept politicians gaining high office and the ubiquitous simultaneous arrival of a whole troupe of omnibuses that blog hits come slowly and quietly.
That would explain my surprise when checking the control panel today, I found whole host of hits to a blog that was not at the time, actually written.
To explore this, and other mysteries, some musical included, welcome Gentle Reader, and read on.
First, a quick explanation as to the non- appearance of the blog this weekend, a recurrence of Poorly Parent Problems meant that the vast majority of the weekend was completely stymied…
…apart from playing at the Trent House in Newcastle on Sunday night.
This is a characterful, quaint, faintly rustic hostelry, featuring hand carved table surfaces and period graffiti. The period in question is just after the departure of sobriety, and before the return of sensibility. A PA welcomed us and was expertly driven, louder than we are used to but with great skill and a very good sound quality. It may be open to sonic debate whether a room no wider than eight feet (maybe seven at the pinch point between the bodies) needed a PA but, there it was and very good too. FG seemed to be the only representatives not to come from the University Traditional Music Course. Which tells one two things. The first is that the musical standard is going to be very high, technical ability and background knowledge similarly so.
Earlier in the week we went to The Bridge to see Jez Lowe. We did a few from the floor and so shall boast henceforth that we opened for Jez Lowe; then settled to watch the great man at work. This was another interesting (axesmith for heavy folk thunder outfit jiva would have called it ‘cracking’) evening, watching at close quarters a bona-fido folk legend performing. I had not appreciated what a versatile player he is either.
Otherwise we have been rehearsing, trying out some new songs and trying to get some promo sorted out to firm up gigs for next year. Email is not the best thing to get the attention of organisers of folk clubs, all of whom have busy lives as it is, I think I’m going to have to recourse to doorstepping!
I’d like to have another go at cartooning and have in mind a series all about a folk club. Expect gratuitous stereotyping, fun at the expense of banjo players and all songs ending in a communal “Nyy-yaahhh”.
Tonight we’re off to Croxdale at The Daleside Arms, hopefully we may see a few of you there.
As the spring loaded capo of justice clamps around the banjo players throat and the pinkety-plonk of C&W collides with the thumpety-thump of the discerning listener’s fist, I notice it’s the end of this blog.
Until next time acoustic chums,