Back in the land of the the hoity toity

I've just spent the weekend in Yorkshire, land of my 'roots', celebrating my Aunt's 90th Birthday.
She is remarkable, still as bright as a button and with a memory that puts mine to shame.
The cousins had organised a real family get together with 45 people. They were amazed that the southern contingent (Suki, Ben and I) actually bothered to come, and I was amazed that I recognised so many of them, since I hadn't seen most in 20 years.
Getting to know Ben was great too. Strange to have a nephew who is 29 and you don't really know. Now I do, and thoroughly approve.
To cap it all Suki put me in touch with Mike who I hadn't seen in 10 years. Good stuff.
I feel like the wind has blown Mary Poppins in the window.

A bit of a do

I've finally converted the Global Fusion Gig to MP3's. All 11 tracks are now up for aficionado's to peruse... So that would be me then.

Now all I have to do is choose the best song and create a video for it from... erm... a static wide shot. Could be interesting (Why did I ever leave the film industry? Why didn't I start performing 20 years ago? Oh foolish man).

The plan (or so I'm told) is to get an agent to find us gigs. Good idea! Let's give a total stranger 10% because we're all worried about picking up the phone. I must find some balls... Hmm.

My determination for the next year is to play Glastonbury, and Jools Holland. I also want to tour europe. I shall do this.

There's nothing like a positive mental attitude, unless of course you happen to be mental, in which case buy thorazine... I can't find a thorazine shop in the yellow pages.

The cage

The cage of life surrounds us all,
From kingly court to shanty town,
The debts we owe no matter what,
Are burdens none the less.

Yet we strive to better live,
The western mind a mortgage bid,
The car, the house, the credit cards:
Whilst children elsewhere starve.

Is it fair? Well no it’s not,
But frankly we all have our lot:
The bills to pay, the boss to please;
Often on bended knee.

Would I change? Would I fuck!
I don’t want to live in old mud huts.
Bulldozed down by tyrant lunes,
In far off sunnier climes

I want to live the life I want,
B&Q paint on prefabbed crap,
Gawking at Big Brothers shite,
A couch potatoes feeble cry!

I’m not happy, I’m not sad,
I’m just pissed off fucking mad,
Lets face facts, if we don’t change now:
We are all of us going to die!

Sooner rather than later.

The beginning is nigh

It's whatever time it is, and in ten minutes I am leaving to go to a final rehearsal and then the GIG.

God knows what happens then. Back to reality I suppose. It's meant to be fun... A laugh. Why is it then that I feel like I'm off for a date with Madame Guillotine! Odd that.

Also it's damn hot and I'm sweating, though I'm not sure if it's from the heat or nerves.

Fingers and other bits crossed.

A Band is a damn good thing

Today for the first time I played with the complete band, had a small glimpse of what my music could be and ended up one very happy man.
Though I can't honestly say we're ready for this gig (even with a year's rehearsal with a full band I'd probably have reservations) I can say we're going to give it out best and it should blow a few people away.
I still can't quite work out why all these people are doing this. It can't be for the money.
None the less, playing is the ultimate legal high. So glad I can partake.
The only slight downer is that my strumming hand is hurting. Hopefully with some TLC it'll be better by Friday.

Ego's Suck

'nuff said.

Another day...

Another full rehearsal, with some dreadful blunders, yet all in all 'it' is getting there. Mick fixed his Sound Canvas (dry Joint) and I have decided to use a kazoo rather than Harmonica on 'Train'... Possibly?
One of the festival organisers want me to send a stage plan. Hah! Oh, and they can't find the contract.
I'm getting a stye, which has to be stress... Or nerves... Or possibly terror. And, and it's all for one hours 'something'... Then what?
Tomorrow David joins in. Oh joy.
Bed.

Light at the end of the tunnel?

A huge weight off my mind now I've told Grant about the KTwins no go. He, friend that he is, has been totally understanding. I would probably have pouted and moaned a lot.
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Having now rehearsed every day for the last week I can finally see where it could go, and it's starting to get exciting.
We have a set of eleven songs, which are pretty much the way I want them...
The only problem with intense rehearsal with just a keyboard player, is that when the full band gets together the dynamic is going to change, especially with a drummer (can't wait). On the one hand this is good, but from the POV that we only have the one full 'in studio' rehearsal, and the gig is in a week, it is frightening me a little.
The gig cometh all too soon.
What I am determined to do is carry on afterwards. I love playing live... After the event I can't wait to do it again, it's just the angst leading up to it I hate.
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The set list in running order:
Love song
Sincerity machine
Piece of the heat
Train
Gin or Ginseng
Life
Blonde Hair
Sally
Spring of Teal
Superman
Friends of the Earth

White Rabbit

No time, No time.
From worrying about no work I'm now panicked because not only is there work, but I have to rehearse as well. Getting home at ten and vegging out to a meal and the tube is not condusive to a happy fufilled life methinks.
I've finally plucked up the courage to tell my twin I can't perform with him. He's going to be mad, but I'm only a bear with a small brain.
The rehearsals are going OK. Some nights are unfortunately better than others. I can't let it be a random roll of the dice, it's just got to get better day on day. The set now seems solid, and works, which is good... Now if I can only remember the lyrics...
My 'piece' in the local rag came out. I've been told I look like 'Donovan'. Pah.
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Three nights ago I hit a Badger on the top road. I stopped and went to look, but it had vanished. I only hope that he/she is ok, though I can't truthfully believe it. Even though I slammed on the brakes I must have been doing 35mph.
I keep thinking I should have done something else. If I'd have swerved and run off the road I would have trashed the car, but it only cost £230, which is less than the vets bills might have been.
Poor Badger.

Too much

It's all too much.
I finally get a chance to do something I've been dreaming of doing forever and a day, and I'm terrified... Or am I just stupid? Moot point really. I either do or I don't. If I don't I'll regret it until the day I die and look like a total cunt to boot: If I do I'll probably peg out from the stress. I think it's called Hobson's choice. Fuck Hobson.
Hey ho. Bring on the stress.

Old New Labour Anew - Again

Once more into the breech... Though given a fair method of voting (proportional representation) the political landscape would be very different, you can only admire the front that is the chimeric Tony/Gordon beast. All hail the beast I say. Or should it be 'better the beast you know'?
Having voted for the 'nice' party I can't say I expected to be on the winning side, though given the choices on offer with UKIP being the only 'outsider' on offer, nice was the only path to wander. The alternatives I might have gone for such as the 'Official Monster Raving Luny Party' or 'The Green Party weren't on offer. Damn shame that.
I do feel a tad sorry for Michael Howard. Poor. poor chap. Fangs for the memories.
Hey ho.

A New Pope

Well there it is. We have a 78 year old Benedict XVI. And will he be a wise and worldy man? Nope (it rhymes). Though I'm sure he is wonderful if you know him personally, and probably blind enough not to question discrepancies in the petty cash, I very much doubt he really knows what goes on in the real world. Certainly if he continues in the conservative mean of John Paul II and carries on forbidding the use of condoms he will be doing the planet no favours.

"Dear brothers and sisters after the great Pope, John Paul II, the cardinals have elected me, a simple and humble worker in the Lord's vineyard."

Does the Lord really consider Earth a Vineyard I wonder?

Nothing Less Than Everything

Nothing Less Than Everything is the next Songfight that I probably won't enter. It's the cyan fight, which is apt seeing as how useful a vial of cyanic acid could be. Too painful, though swift. Were I ever to 'top' off, I would like to do it in a... ummm... pleasant fashion; with tweating birds, flowers and nymphs in attendance, not frothing at the mouth in extreme pain.
Damn the fightmaster. If it were the magenta fight the above twaddle wouldn't exist. Instead I could waffle on about camp things like dresses and mincing and angst.

So anyway; I've written a nice song about love. and though the lyrics aren't finished, and it's raw, check it out... Go on. You know you want to. ;-)

Reality - A sharp slap in the face.

I watched an episode of CSI last night. The Miami version with Horatio (who is Cat's hero). The plot involved a woman who was poisoned with a radioactive isotope in her orange juice and suddenly found she only had five days to live.
It made me think. If I was told I had five days what would I do? The short answer, after an all to brief panic attack, would be record an album... A month to live? The same, but abroad in the sun. A year to live? The same... Etc.
It made me realise music is what I want to 'do', to leave behind. Maybe some poetry too, and possibly a novel if I get lucky. I don't want to shuffle of this planet leaving nothing behind except a bitter ghost, moanng at having been 'a good boy', up to date with mortgage and taxes.
Then I realised I am finite. Each day that rolls by with nothing accomplished except a few invoicable hours is a FUCKING WASTE. Each of these days is sand that will never run though the glass again.
I know all this, yet why am I seemingly incapable of doing anything about it?
A cheery point to ponder.

Well Hi there!

And the days shoot by with the turning of the sky...
No songfight entry this week, or last week either, though I did both write for, and record 'Digital Chimera' and 'Ancient'. These can be found (aficionado's only please) here, though beware, they are demo's and not even vaguely polished.
Speaking of which I am supposed to be a web designer and yet have no proper site. This situation, being reminiscent of 'Coals to Newcastle', 'Grandmothers and Eggs, or some such, will be rectified shortly by a fully blown 'thingy' to which I will probably move this blog as well.
I love this free association lark! Having mentioned Grandmothers I must tell you (oh audience of 1) my Grandmother was on TV the other night. BBC 4 had a program about the early days of Television, and my Grandmother, who had a show of her own in the 1950's, was the first featured segment. Hughie Greens 'Double your money was the second. It was very, VERY dated, and stilted. Then it was live.
The sun is out, the birds are singing, and life goes on... And on. Oh to win the lottery!

'tis an odd thing...

... but I started this blog to waffle on about music, and it seems to have wandered off course. In light of this, and because I aim to drift back to a strictly musical flavoured blog I shall end this non musical excursion with a eulogy for my log, who died last night.
I had Sidney, my log, ever since I moved into the house. He was given to me by Brigitte and I had intended to use him as the raw material for a sculpture the like of which will now never be known. Every year I managed to save him from the flames of our voracious furnace. Often only by the skin of his bark.
Brigitte though me silly, but Sidney and I had an understanding. He was a loyal log, a good log, and, I like to think, a wisw log. He was always there for me. Last night, in a moment of mutual catharsis, he has been released. He has travelled to the place where all good logs go, and I wish him well.
Goodbye Sidney.

A new Doctor? Yes. A good Doctor? No!

I was eagerly anticipating the new Doctor Who, and tonight I was badly disappointed. Perhaps It's more from distorted childhood memory, but I remember Dr Who as being fresher, ballsier and rather cutting edge. This new Who couldn't cut its way out of a paper bag if its life depended on it.
I would like to blame BBC Wales for the parochial feel, but I think in actuality Dr Who has been stuck down by the dreaded English disease. Instead of wobbly sets we were given wobbly shop manequins. A Very sad day for sci-fi.
Grant seems to like it, which I find vaguely unsettling.

sad

I read in Grant's blog that Dave Allen died. In the 70's and 80's I used to watch him sitting on his swivel chair (with added shelf for ubiquitous glass of Irish whiskey and packet of fags) getting drunk and telling the most outrageous jokes. The whole family used to watch. His jokes and sketches seemed either political or religious in nature.
Though I imagine he would be tame by modern day standards, I remember him as razor sharp. Whilst his missing finger used to weird me out!
Bye Dave.

Hmm?

I'm continuing to learn Zoops, which I think will be a doddle once I get my head around the concepts and decide on a theme. I've got a meeting on tuesday to discuss three static web sites, one of which will end up being a cms at some 'later date'. I have a pitch on monday for another cms which should be a 'shoe in' (wonderful Americanism), though I have a gut feeling it's going to be grief. I have all these positive signs for a rosy future... So why do I feel like the world is going to fall on my head at any minute?

Finally... Again.

Quite chuffed really. It's nearly 4am, and I'm going to be having (preens himself) Installed apache server, php and sql on my local machine. Then installed both wordpress and xoops AND got them both working.
A doddle, a mere bagatelle, water off a Duck's back... Not.
Bon nuit, schlaff gut, etc.