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