Sorry Alex

Time escapes us far too quickly. About which, it would be nice if something was done. This is my theory at least.
Not, "you should be taking greater stock of how you are spending your precious minutes on this incredible Earth, this includes blogging at half 3am". More, "could you possibly locate the speed dial, the one that controls the Space-Time Continuum? Because sometimes it gets a bit silly and I'd like to be able to do more stuff please".
It only happens occasionally. Like now, when a neglected blog is noticed, and some other times.

This posting has no real purpose. Other than to let you know that you are unlikely to see a greater likeness or more authentic performance than those provided by this group of humans here:

Tonight's show was fantastic. Especially the first bit with that Tudor-Pole man - a genuine madcap. (This is now a noun).
Although gig reviews should probably be re-read the following morning, prior to submission to bodies of an editing and publishing nature. I think I may take my own advice.

There's a video shoot that I have to be part of in a few hours too. It's the Tribal Settlement, weather-permitting scene, and I get a rather nice Hornby book for my troubles.
The sensible, forward-thinkers amongst men would have refrained from posting this until the following evening when said video shoot is able to be reported upon, thus rendering the time taken to read it as "worthwhile".

This was the best I could do.
xx

By the lake

Sometimes when you spend time alone, you realise things you didn't think you could.
Little walks turn into tiny adventures, the relevance of clocks temporarily subsides and spirits are lifted. Like if a foggy cloud of grey that usually follows you around decides it wants to go away and read a book for a bit.
Water often helps this, which is maybe something to do with the science behind cloud formation, deformation and precipitation. It's also nice to look at though, which could be a different reason altogether.

I've always liked a good boat as well, for as long as I can remember. Or since last Tuesday (whichever came first).

I spoke to this swan for a bit too:

He didn't say very much although you could tell he felt a real contentment with his life. His little swan face kept saying "breathe in, smile, and be happy".
My lack of bread became apparent and he swiftly departed.

Just thought I'd share.
xx

The Gig Issue

The PoZe stuff is coming along quite nicely now. Some rough edits of the new tracks are nearly ready and the other day we began mixing 'Spare Fairy', another session which Greg and some of the other guys did back in January.

The EP is starting to sound quite big now and we're all pretty pleased. Not as big as maybe a flying jet, or a sphinx from Egypt, or Simon Cowell's ego/bank balance.

(Look at his smug little face)

Still quite big despite this though. Perhaps the aural equivalent of David Mitchell's IQ, this is a joyful size.

And what better way to celebrate than by organising an evening of local punk bands for only £3 entry? Apart from a Lottery win or flame-grilled chicken panini, though these aren't valid options.

We had a special bond as the "door team":



Quite a comfortable turn-out in the end, and nothing broke.
What a fine day. A fine day indeed.
xx

I've got a brand new Combined 5-day Weather Forecast

Remember that bit I said before about the rain and the weather and globe-spanning networks and glorified windbreaks? (Don't worry, it wasn't that interesting anyway)
Well it happened again. Yesterday. And we were dry. Then we went all wet.

The Dorset Steam Fair is always an experience, and this year they had a big outdoor staging thing with lights and sound (fortunately). People could stand on it with their instruments and sing if they wanted, although only if they'd been good and had eaten all their greens.

We had a watch of Ant's acoustic set and then wandered around for a bit, encountering plenty of candy floss, fried food, working engines of the 20th Century, those organ things that you wind up and they make noise, broken engines of the 19th Century, and rigged sideshows along the way.

The sky teamed gallons of wet, fields of mud swallowed a formerly white pair of French-graffitied Converse shoes, and I nearly bought a giant banana with a face although they were a bit yellow for my liking. Plus there was something about their eyes (I've never found myself able to trust enlarged depictions of stuffed fruit, hopefully this will ease with time).

Here's a picture of what our evening set looked like from the rear view like on Sky Digital's multi-angle sport thing. We particularly enjoyed the bucket positioned just in front of the stage monitors catching drops of precipitate whose straying towards the equipment nearly damaged the equipment (many of which were in fact emanating from our soggy selves).
Ant then decided it was time to put me back in my cage:

I'm drumming there tomorrow night and sorting out some kind of all-day festival on Saturday. I'll have my coat though, the coat protects. And entertains.
xx

Strike a PoZe

All plans were in place after only a few emails - Bournemouth's Glam monster of the early 90's would inevitably remanifest itself at some point.
Looks like the demand just about qualified as "popular" now.



Greg (the main one) arrived from Nottingham on Tuesday and it's been non-stop Recording, Reunions, Rocking and Renthusiasm every since.
A host of both old and new PoZe faces have pulled together to do their thing on two freshly-arranged tracks earmarked for a new online release.

Several days/reminiscences/flasks of (rock 'n' roll) tea later and we've managed to record virtually everything, with the ever-vast task of making it all blend/metaphorically kick the metaphorical listener in their metaphorical face pencilled in for next Sunday.



Hard rocx & mettals. Genius.
xx

Tent tunes for all

Yesterday I realised that, ploughing ever-further into the present digital age of instant communication, globe-spanning networks, and 24/7 media-inundation, our primitive reliance on outside weather conditions is often astounding.
Not least where outdoor music festivals and events are concerned.

A 5:30 slot meant there was plenty of time for the fields to waterlog before our set - this was inevitable.
By the time we had arrived the PA was long gone, with the staging (in true Heather Mills style) left only half-standing. It seems the clouds were so upset by the immorality of splatting rats and hooking ducks being so popular among today's youth that they could no longer hold back their tears.

Still, we made the most of it, squeezing into the only remaining intimate little marquee and instead offering an improvised acoustic rendition to around thirty or so cosily chilled teen folk.
Having no initial idea of how the songs would translate onto a minimalist set-up certainly threw that extra bit of spice into the mix (we put this spice through channel six on the outboard desk as it was DI'ed).

Our glorified windbreak looked like this but with people in it and a different shape:

Good fun in the end. And some people even told us we had managed to scrape a degree of tolerablility, although we'd never met them before so they were probably just being polite.

xx

-

It was announced yesterday that the one person responsible for my main passion in life is no longer with us. Sad times for anyone who has ever mic'ed a guitar cab, twiddled an EQ-knob, or shown frustration towards a tempered multiband compressor; with the world's guitaring population most likely feeling a similar tinge of upset.

The next time I boot up the Tascam, it's for Les.
xx

Drum kit-sized peg in a car-shaped hole

Sometimes you find out who your friends are, it happened to me only yesterday.
Although this wasn't down to some form of gargantuan betrayal, where a devout group of intimate confidants is forced to take sides between two disputing parties while causing an irrecoverable rift in the process (like in that F.R.I.E.N.D.S programme. Or M.A.T.E.S).

Instead, and on a somewhat smaller scale, a cheery pal planned, aided and executed the loading of a tiny, tiny car with a many-pieced drum kit (about three hours pre-gig) when he probably had some better things to be doing for himself.
We had to remove the whole parcel-shelf, detach the speaker cables and everything. Manic.

(artist's impression)

A kind favour soon to be returned. I think I'll buy him a packet of Gary Barlows as a thank you.

He likes them.
xx

Cream of Tomato Sloop

Mammoth recording sessions are the best.
Especially when a less-than-favourable guitar tone can be fixed with a single tilt of a mic. And the mammoth is woolly.


Although next time Marshall are compiling a product manual, perhaps they could make mention of their amplifiers' tendency to begin receiving local radio transmissions during an otherwise perfect solo take. Irate engineers and guitarists will always ensue.
Still, 2CR FM's "Better Music Mix" soothes even the savage beast. Even if it is called 'Heart' now.

We are half-way through the 'Open Mic Tour', stopping off last night at The Sloop for another jovial acoustic sing-song.
Unfortunately, Health and Safety dictates a restriction on campfires and marshmallow-toasting (something to do with roaring naked flames, alcohol, and wooden-style buildings with walls and a ceiling I think they said)
Only a few more dates to go and I still need the lyric sheet for 'Run' by Snow Patrol.
We nearly had t-shirts printed although not enough people really cared in the end.




My Dad has just walked in with another newly-traded guitar.
Instruments under our roof have a higher rate of turnover than the Labour cabinet.
xx

Only one June-based post then (sorry about that...)

These laptop keys are currrently being depressed by quite blistered fingers (as in, the keys are having pressure applied to their surface - rather than being made to feel very sad by the fingers).

This isn't to say that the keys don't also feel very sad at the same time - this could be a potential side-effect of the pressure being felt upon their surface - although I haven't yet managed to ask them and find out, so it's pure speculation at this point really.
I like to clarify things.

Yesterday evening I was fortunate enough to play alongside Sham 69 so the blistering is very much drumming-induced. Great show, and once the initial equipment issues were resolved the night ran relatively smoothly.
Always be cautious of venue managers who have handed in their notice.

Opposite my chair sits a window with a big grey cloud in it; I'm sifting through a large pile of demos I've been sent for a festival while the trees thrash around violently outside - looks like the one in the middle has the manliest branches, he's just hit the two baby conifers either side so they know who's in charge.
Time to see if Mike Oldfield has anything new to teach my ears I think. As unrelated as these two scenarios are.
xx

Let There Be Light

I recently revived the CD half of "A Cross The Universe" - had it virtually on a loop for the last few days or so, and can feel my ardent enthusiasm for French House/electro slowly beginning to reintroduce itself. I'm brimming with ideas, and can't wait to get them down and start messing about with some of my gear again!

Imagine having one of your ultimate passions stolen away from you without warning and for reasons beyond your control; inspiration becomes non-existent and any current projects are practically written off. Endless possibilities immediately become finite and every note, sample and morsel of hard work ever produced is essentially rendered irrelevant.

Now imagine that, just as suddenly, one fortunate day presents the opportunity for conversation with an occasional but loyal friend; conversation which gives you reason to revisit the neglected depths of your music collection, to sit and listen with an entirely renewed perspective, and to begin feeling that same buzz that brought you such energy and ambition so many months ago. You would feel a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude.

These are hopeful times :)
xx

Punk's not dead

It was a bit smokey backstage, although this was to be expected - the UK Subs are law-defying punk legends. Twenty-three seconds later, and the smoke was quite clearly emanating from the kettle in the corner of the room, as opposed to the initially suspected freshly-opened packet of Silk Cut or some form of illicitly anarchic substance.
They quite liked their tea (milk, two sugars) and even ventured outwards for some Peking Duck at one point.

Four of the nicest and most talkative people I've ever had the privilege of sharing a stage with. Charlie even congratulated us personally and took some photos of our set! We must have stood chatting for a good half hour afterwards - plenty had happened on their current tour, and he and Alvin were more than happy to share.

A truly enjoyable evening which brought with it some fascinating people.
Meeting those who genuinely have their own stories to tell is one of the most rewarding experiences on Earth.
xx

On the move

Happy day. I appear to have mobile dashboard access, which means I can now blog from anywhere that isn't a tunnel or Lulworth Cove.

These words come courtesy of an LG KC550 which limits the amount of characters I can donate before the GPRS demons begin gorging themselves on my credit balance. So no replication of petitions, legal documents, or Holy scriptures then (sorry).
It's also purely text-based, meaning anything of remote visual interest will have to wait until I can reunite my laptop with a WIFI hotspot. I don't actually have anything that you might want to look at for now though, so it's worked out quite nicely really.

Onwards and upwards.
xx

Furnish it with love

My new online home is looking a bit cosier now. I've settled in quite nicely and have even given a lick of Dulux to that really annoying apple-shaped woodchip on the wall.
Splendid.

I managed to spend today laying down three drum tracks for a new EP. As with all things that are worth doing properly, it took a little longer than expected meaning acoustic and piano are saved for another day.

Here is some screen-grabbed evidence:

I could say something a bit profound like I left the snare track the default grey colour because it aids my creativity or "Rick Rubin does it". Actually, Cubase performed an illegal operation, terminating itself immediately; I went to find a Kellogg's™ Nutri-Grain bar (blueberry) and then I forgot.

Lovely weather this afternoon as well. I walked to the end of my road, posted a letter and heard the birds in the trees.
xx

And we're off...

How lucky am I?!
I just clicked a few buttons and now I can publish typed stuff. This is going to be so much fun.

Thanks for stopping by anyway.

Here is a thought for the hour...
"If Jono and Char wanted a true taste of life as a seal and a penguin, this is about as authentic as it gets".
Thanks BBC3.
xx