Title required…

My right leg has got right fed up.

It got to the point where it formed the opinion – rightly or leftly – that it would be better off going it alone.

So it had a little vote with the rest of me, and blow, me, it voted to b*gger off.

Well, I’m sure we will get on just fine without it; no big miss I suppose – why would anyone need a right leg these days?

Except that the left arm, which wanted right leg to stay, has decided to nip off and join it.

Might make guitar a bit tricky.

Never mind, I’ve got other things to worry about. Brain has received a vote of no confidence in the way it handled the whole right leg thing, and it’s on its bike too. There are three new brains in the wings though. One is a megalomaniac idiot (no change there, he’ll probably get in), one is an insane wrecker and one is a complete winker (choose your own vowels, won’t you?).

Still.

Eh?

Be Welcome Gentle Reader, and read on…

 

 

Well, after an interesting and quite possibly important week in the world at large, it is time, Gentle Reader, for you to peer through your special window into the world of unique insanity that is Fool’s Gold.

Insanity not because we are clinically insane; at least not last time my certificate was checked, but because we have the temerity, audacity and yes, stupidity to think that anyone else might be interested in what we do.

You may recall, if memory serves you well, that we have been serving up that which we do, trying to make a go of it as (of all things) musicians. Gentle Readers possessed of very long memories indeed will recall that we tried hard to break into the folk club circle, but the folk club circle (in the main, with notable and welcome exceptions) remained unbroken. I’m sure that the chronicles of The King’s Head and Washerwoman’s Legs Folk Club (every Thursday in the back room unless the Leek Show is on) did a very great deal to help our chances of breaking in to the In Crowd, but somehow we remained Bloody Tourists.

So, we broke out, rebelled, left the union[1].

We left the world of folk purism behind and had a go at entertainment.

So, for the last 18 months – two years maybe, we have been pedaling our own special brand of lunacy, known mostly as ‘Stories with Strings’. Unless you have been a non-dom at Life on Mars, you will know that this means that we have built a show around the idea that songs have stories, which we can tell, perform the songs (live, natch) and wrap the whole parcel up with visuals on a big screen – some to help the stories, some to backdrop the songs while we play.

And lots of fun it has been too.

We have played big halls, little halls, church halls, village halls, palaces, dumps, toilets, libraries and yes, even Folk Clubs. We’ve played to WI, Probus, U3A, Old Persons, Young Persons, Humans, Animals and Politicians. We’ve had big houses, little houses, small houses and two occasions, the walls.

And it can get tiring.

You might think this is leading up to a retirement announcement, but if you did, you’re out of luck.

What we are doing at the moment is developing the 2017 show. It is going to be slicker, quicker, brighter and better.

(Quite a strap-line, I must write that down.)

One of the problems we have faced, as the show developed, is the amount of gear we have to trudge around and the required set-up time. We’ve had loads of bookings where the person has said something along the lines of “Oh, you can start at 8:00, so if you make sure you’re there by ten to…”.

So this week we’ve been playing with new projection systems, new instruments, and new toys. A recent birthday allowed me the indulgence of another pedal. The pad sounds (to be played live) are coming along nicely. Some new kit, visuals and sound are starting to find their place.

And all of it, even if it is lighter and quicker it will be money for nothing.

Unless the songs are good. Music is my first love, so that means the songs have got to be better too.

We have a setlist for the new show, and several titles on the list have to be written. And they’d better be good.

I’d better start tomorrow.

I don’t like Mondays.

That one was the easiest, hope you found the rest.

 

And so as the Sunsets on Empire across the Field of Crows and the Light Dies Down on Broadway, I notice that there is no Dark Side of the Moon really, as a matter of fact, it’s all dark.

Until next time Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

[1] Not that the union ever accepted our membership. Oddly enough they took our subs though.

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