Some gigs you just know are going to be spectacular. The spark just lingers in the air all day as you get ready to go. Everyone's on top form, in high spirits and excited for the show ahead. You get there and you play a blinder, the crowd goes ape and everyone gets to leave satisfied.
Then there are the other kind. Much like tonight.
The pre-gig rehearsal goes well at first. But as will happen when you stick five hairy, sweaty men in a room together for a long enough period of time... things get hot very quickly. And plying your dirty trade in such heat for a long enough period of time will put you in somewhat of a bad mood. It also gives you a headache.
And so it's finally under these conditions that we drag our sorry selves off to Tall Trees Nightclub in Newquay for the Indoor Winter Festival known as 'Bucca-Fest.'
Now it's my fault, really. I guess alarm bells would usually ring when one hears the phrase 'Winter Festival.' It's the sort of phrase that speaks for itself if you think about it... it's not the sort of phrase that screams 'venue filler.' 'Winter Festival' sounds like a small handful of couragious travellers who pulled on their little hats and coats and managed to brave the bitter wind and rain in order to huddle up in an entirely too big room to listen to some bands who have probably all caught colds in the time it's taken to travel down from their respective hometowns.
Which, as it turns out, is precisely what tonight is. Not that I even ponder on that for a second. I still harbour dreams of a thousand adoring screams as we storm the stage like modern day Roman gladiators. Not that such a thing has *ever* happened, but that's besides the point. Anyway, we'll get to all that in a while.
You knew it was coming... we get lost in Newquay. iPhones are whipped out and maps are scrupulously studied, but none of the wonders of the modern age get us anywhere close. Naturally, everyone is too proud to ring the venue for directions so we drive round and round in circles for a bit, slowly getting more irritated with each other for not caving in by the second.
The whole thing is a bit of a blur for me. All of my immediate distractions - designed to keep me from getting caught up in the frustration everyone else is feeling - are starting to run out of batteries, so I turn to the time tested, foolproof method of keeping entertained. I start drawing dicks on the steamed up window.
After about 20 to 30 minutes of internal squabbling, Rhi - who has been kind enough to drive us on an intimate tour of Newquay for entirely too long - does the first sensible thing of the night and walks into a shop to ask for directions. And wouldn't you know it? The plan's a good un! We scramble to the venue in a matter of minutes and pour inside. We get our artist/guest passes which entitle us to a free drink at the bar and access to all areas. I should mention that part of Bucca-Fest's draw is that it's a bit of an ale festival. For all the ale drinkers in the band (of which there are many) this is a bit of a nirvana after the events prior.
The main stage is empty. And I mean not a blessed soul. Still, the penny doesn't drop as we're assured everyone is upstairs watching the acoustic acts. And indeed they are. All 12 of them. Nonetheless we settle in and watch a little music. The guy starting off as we arrive is pretty nice. I like his chord progressions, but I decide not to tell anyone as everyone in the band is looking tired, grumpy and in no mood to discuss any kind of issue on a long term basis. I have a little banter with Harry and then decide to go and put my free drink token to good use.
I get to the bar and order my ale... the barkeep pours it and I show him my card. He informs me that he has not been told of any passes... and that despite what the pass is *clearly* saying, he will not be honouring anything tonight. Go home, thanks for playing, goodnight New York. Luckily I have cash so I pay for it and save Roger the embarassment of trying the same trick. We end up using our passes at the main bar on some unusually yeasty lager.
I quietly grumble to myself something about free passes at an ale festival discluding the actual ale itself but my heart's not really in it. We watch Hold The Sun play the mainstage. They're actually good enough that they lift my spirits a bit. Their singer looks a little like Kurt Cobain and he sings a little similarly, although the musical backdrop is completely different. Their harmonies are well put together as well. Once again, I tell nobody any of this.
Eventually we play and a few people actually start milling about. They're appreciative, none too interactive but at least they're paying attention. I feel like we actually do a good job of playing as well... and the sound is clear enough in the monitors that I don't blow my vocal chords. So, a win I suppose.
On the way out I'm told I have a natural wit and I should consider stand up. I take about seven steps away and I'm further informed by someone who happened to overhear the first guy talking that I don't actually have the aforementioned wit and that stand up comedy probably isn't a career I would find suitable after all. Easy come easy go.
Now don't get me wrong, I gripe, but I am actually grateful that we got to play at the fest. I enjoy any gigging experience on some level, even if it's just getting to try out some new stage banter or some stupid dance moves... and y'know, I always end up meeting someone likeable. So all in all, I'd say that I've had a good time tonight.
One good thing in retrospect is that once we're packed up and gone, everyone seems to have unexpectedly brightened up a bit. So we grasp this newfound joy by the mantle and go to enjoy a greasy kebab supper whilst tightly packed into a small vehicle in a Redruth car park.
Ahh, the life of a rockstar.
------------------------------
Setlist for 3/12/11:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
Hey Ya
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Dayglow
My Voice
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
Chad
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Friday, 18 November 2011
Lost in Eden
Hello.
I fully intend to try and fill in this little blog thing after every performed Moonlet & The Love-Monks gig... partly to entertain and inform you, partly so I can look back fondly sometime in the future and say 'yeah, I remember that!' ...sooo... now you know why you're here... let's get on with the first entry.
The date's November 18th and we're due to play the Eden Project Cafe in St. Austell tonight with support from Relentless. So after a quick practice we get on up there. Taking three cars mean that Harry (bass) and I take the lead and Harry quickly decides that no matter what happens... we need to eat. Even if it means running right over Dan's (guitar) head to do so. We make a sneaky stop at McDonald's behind his back.
We queue up in a... a suspiciously regimented queueing system. There appears to be more staff on hand to herd the cattle into neat lines than there are on hand to serve them. It's all a little overwhelming and it's hard not to appear flustered when I finally get jostled to the front of the line. Not to worry though! I deliver my order with clarity and some degree of charm... it's a balance that's hard to get quite right when you're sort of person who is constantly afraid of stuttering, stammering, being indecisive, getting the order wrong a couple of times and generally holding everyone up.
Seriously, everytime I'm forced to order food, I have that same fear! It's mighty!
So I'm standing there awash in a glow of self satisfaction when it unfortunately occurs that my fears aren't unbounded. It turns out my card is absolutely knackered and an embarassing scene unfolds involving numerous McDonalds workers paying me an unnecessary amount of attention, culminating in one of the staff telling me that I would, in fact, be 'going hungry' that evening. Her words, not mine. Luckily Zeno (drums) comes to my aid and the situation is resolved. I wish I would say that was my lowest moment of the night.
It... it was not.
Fed and watered, we drive off to the loading bay in order to stuff some surprisingly willful steel cages full of equipment. The first two trips in the elevator with the stuff go fine enough. It's a relatively simple system. Carry the equipment up the wall and into the cage. Take the cage to the lift. Lift up to sixth. Take the cage down the massive corridor. Take the firedoor out into the open and into the cafe. Empty the cages of equipment. Take the cages back through the fire door, down the massive corridor, into the lift, down to the loading bay, jump down the wall and repeat the process.
So when we complete the second transaction, things go seriously awry... see, the support band, Relentless have turned up with their equipment and it turns out that with our final load and their cage full of equipment, not everyone is going to fit into the lift. Luckily for everyone, Roger and I had previously taken the stairs for a laugh, so I know a quick, alternative route to get to floor six. So with this in mind, I offer to take relentless and their equipments... as well as Harry's bass guitar... up the stairs myself.
Mistake.
It's worth mentioning at this point that Relentless consist of kids ranging from about 7 or 8 to 12. And their numbers are many. In short, not the sort of group you want to get lost in a very large building.
Which is precisely what I do.
Unable to find the stairs previously so easy to locate, I stumble across another lift and I assume that if I take it to floor six, we'll go up and we'll eventually come across the others. We take the lift up and when we get to six, as done so many times before, the doors open to a corridor much like the last. Only the door we'd usually take leads to a dead end. So we decide to go back to the lift and try again.
Trouble is, the door leading back to the lift has locked itself... so we're essentially trapped in the stairwell. At this point some of the younger group members get a little edgy - understandably so - whilst other members take inspiration from this adventure and decide they'll be the ones to lead the charge. This is incredibly bad news for me... someone who is unable to keep a group of like minded people organized at the best of times... and I find myself starting to sweat. And when was it exactly that this bass guitar started getting so damned heavy!?
Back down to four... darkness. Up to 8 and 10. Nothing. Down to two... locked door. Younglings start to weep. I'm starting to wonder if joining them would be such a bad idea. Down to floor 1... boom! Freedom! We circle back around and find ourselves in the loading bay again, exactly where we'd started. There we find Relentless's manager who too is lost. My mind once again returns to thoughts of weeping... although this time in relief.
We get the lift we should have taken in the first place, now vacant enough to contain everyone and go up. The door opens and there stands a sight I've never been happier to see. Roger (guitar) and another Relentless crew member. We all pile into the cafe and I look for a pile of coats to collapse under.
Eventually everyone settles in and I scan the room to see what sort of crowd we're gonna have. I'm startled to see that some of my favourite regulars have traipsed all the way up to St. Austell to see us. Favourite even if I'm yet to have a proper conversation with some of them but that's hardly the point. This, for some reason, cheers me up a little - for no discernable reason - and the spring is back in my step. I get back into gig mode and start getting excited and giggly and stupid. And probably very annoying. Roger has to deal with it. Screw it, he'll cope.
Relentless play and I have to say I'm just a little bit surprised at their prowess. That's not to sound patronising or anything, but for their age they're really talented. They played some cover songs better than I played them in The Boogaloo Dudes... an old cover band from years gone by. The crowd seem into them... it bodes well for our eventual taking to the stage. I drink a couple of beers and I start to feel both comfy and confident. And a little sleepy.
The time comes to play and once more I scan the faces in the room.
Be cool, O'Neill. Be cool. It's a mantra that always looks good on paper. Within five minutes of playing, however, it all goes out the window along with any real vocal prowess I may have displayed in practise merely hours earlier. From then on the whole night becomes a series of gambles... ranging from whether my awkward and stilted banter has an effect, to whether I'll manage to hit any of the right notes. Some of the gambles pay off... some don't.
C'est la vie.
All in all, things seem to go well though. People are laughing when they're supposed to be laughing... and the notes I'm singing seem to co-incide with the music being played... I guess you can't really ask for too much more. I'm happy. I look around often... everyone else in the band seems happy. This too makes me happy... and it puts my mind to rest a little.
Somehow we end up at the obligatory encore section. We have one more song... the big one. The song written to blow everyone's socks off. Dan's banjo just needs a tiny bit of tuning and I'm painfully aware of this. Time to fill the space with a few really choice lines I'd prepared on the bus earlier.
...
I'm sure I had something prepared... I'm sure of it.
...
It doesn't matter... just say something.
...
Anything. SAY. ANYTHING.
After a small amount of time which seems to stretch beyond all reasonable realms of acceptability, the banjo's ready and we get to it. It goes swimmingly and people are very nice to us afterwards. I feel grateful, but I also feel very very tired. Were my feet this sore throughout the ENTIRE gig? I feel like I would have noticed... I feel like I would have screamed.
They still hurt now. My brain's also very mushy... so I apologize if you made it this far and feel unsatisfied... I'm expecting to read this tomorrow and want to delete it. I'll resist the urge.
See you soon.
- Joe. x
---------------------------
Setlist for 18/11/11:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
Hey Ya
D.U.I
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Dayglow
My Voice
Goose in 4D
Made With Love
Mary the Snowdeer, I Hate You
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
Chad
---
Bonkers
The Rules
I fully intend to try and fill in this little blog thing after every performed Moonlet & The Love-Monks gig... partly to entertain and inform you, partly so I can look back fondly sometime in the future and say 'yeah, I remember that!' ...sooo... now you know why you're here... let's get on with the first entry.
The date's November 18th and we're due to play the Eden Project Cafe in St. Austell tonight with support from Relentless. So after a quick practice we get on up there. Taking three cars mean that Harry (bass) and I take the lead and Harry quickly decides that no matter what happens... we need to eat. Even if it means running right over Dan's (guitar) head to do so. We make a sneaky stop at McDonald's behind his back.
We queue up in a... a suspiciously regimented queueing system. There appears to be more staff on hand to herd the cattle into neat lines than there are on hand to serve them. It's all a little overwhelming and it's hard not to appear flustered when I finally get jostled to the front of the line. Not to worry though! I deliver my order with clarity and some degree of charm... it's a balance that's hard to get quite right when you're sort of person who is constantly afraid of stuttering, stammering, being indecisive, getting the order wrong a couple of times and generally holding everyone up.
Seriously, everytime I'm forced to order food, I have that same fear! It's mighty!
So I'm standing there awash in a glow of self satisfaction when it unfortunately occurs that my fears aren't unbounded. It turns out my card is absolutely knackered and an embarassing scene unfolds involving numerous McDonalds workers paying me an unnecessary amount of attention, culminating in one of the staff telling me that I would, in fact, be 'going hungry' that evening. Her words, not mine. Luckily Zeno (drums) comes to my aid and the situation is resolved. I wish I would say that was my lowest moment of the night.
It... it was not.
Fed and watered, we drive off to the loading bay in order to stuff some surprisingly willful steel cages full of equipment. The first two trips in the elevator with the stuff go fine enough. It's a relatively simple system. Carry the equipment up the wall and into the cage. Take the cage to the lift. Lift up to sixth. Take the cage down the massive corridor. Take the firedoor out into the open and into the cafe. Empty the cages of equipment. Take the cages back through the fire door, down the massive corridor, into the lift, down to the loading bay, jump down the wall and repeat the process.
So when we complete the second transaction, things go seriously awry... see, the support band, Relentless have turned up with their equipment and it turns out that with our final load and their cage full of equipment, not everyone is going to fit into the lift. Luckily for everyone, Roger and I had previously taken the stairs for a laugh, so I know a quick, alternative route to get to floor six. So with this in mind, I offer to take relentless and their equipments... as well as Harry's bass guitar... up the stairs myself.
Mistake.
It's worth mentioning at this point that Relentless consist of kids ranging from about 7 or 8 to 12. And their numbers are many. In short, not the sort of group you want to get lost in a very large building.
Which is precisely what I do.
Unable to find the stairs previously so easy to locate, I stumble across another lift and I assume that if I take it to floor six, we'll go up and we'll eventually come across the others. We take the lift up and when we get to six, as done so many times before, the doors open to a corridor much like the last. Only the door we'd usually take leads to a dead end. So we decide to go back to the lift and try again.
Trouble is, the door leading back to the lift has locked itself... so we're essentially trapped in the stairwell. At this point some of the younger group members get a little edgy - understandably so - whilst other members take inspiration from this adventure and decide they'll be the ones to lead the charge. This is incredibly bad news for me... someone who is unable to keep a group of like minded people organized at the best of times... and I find myself starting to sweat. And when was it exactly that this bass guitar started getting so damned heavy!?
Back down to four... darkness. Up to 8 and 10. Nothing. Down to two... locked door. Younglings start to weep. I'm starting to wonder if joining them would be such a bad idea. Down to floor 1... boom! Freedom! We circle back around and find ourselves in the loading bay again, exactly where we'd started. There we find Relentless's manager who too is lost. My mind once again returns to thoughts of weeping... although this time in relief.
We get the lift we should have taken in the first place, now vacant enough to contain everyone and go up. The door opens and there stands a sight I've never been happier to see. Roger (guitar) and another Relentless crew member. We all pile into the cafe and I look for a pile of coats to collapse under.
Eventually everyone settles in and I scan the room to see what sort of crowd we're gonna have. I'm startled to see that some of my favourite regulars have traipsed all the way up to St. Austell to see us. Favourite even if I'm yet to have a proper conversation with some of them but that's hardly the point. This, for some reason, cheers me up a little - for no discernable reason - and the spring is back in my step. I get back into gig mode and start getting excited and giggly and stupid. And probably very annoying. Roger has to deal with it. Screw it, he'll cope.
Relentless play and I have to say I'm just a little bit surprised at their prowess. That's not to sound patronising or anything, but for their age they're really talented. They played some cover songs better than I played them in The Boogaloo Dudes... an old cover band from years gone by. The crowd seem into them... it bodes well for our eventual taking to the stage. I drink a couple of beers and I start to feel both comfy and confident. And a little sleepy.
The time comes to play and once more I scan the faces in the room.
Be cool, O'Neill. Be cool. It's a mantra that always looks good on paper. Within five minutes of playing, however, it all goes out the window along with any real vocal prowess I may have displayed in practise merely hours earlier. From then on the whole night becomes a series of gambles... ranging from whether my awkward and stilted banter has an effect, to whether I'll manage to hit any of the right notes. Some of the gambles pay off... some don't.
C'est la vie.
All in all, things seem to go well though. People are laughing when they're supposed to be laughing... and the notes I'm singing seem to co-incide with the music being played... I guess you can't really ask for too much more. I'm happy. I look around often... everyone else in the band seems happy. This too makes me happy... and it puts my mind to rest a little.
Somehow we end up at the obligatory encore section. We have one more song... the big one. The song written to blow everyone's socks off. Dan's banjo just needs a tiny bit of tuning and I'm painfully aware of this. Time to fill the space with a few really choice lines I'd prepared on the bus earlier.
...
I'm sure I had something prepared... I'm sure of it.
...
It doesn't matter... just say something.
...
Anything. SAY. ANYTHING.
After a small amount of time which seems to stretch beyond all reasonable realms of acceptability, the banjo's ready and we get to it. It goes swimmingly and people are very nice to us afterwards. I feel grateful, but I also feel very very tired. Were my feet this sore throughout the ENTIRE gig? I feel like I would have noticed... I feel like I would have screamed.
They still hurt now. My brain's also very mushy... so I apologize if you made it this far and feel unsatisfied... I'm expecting to read this tomorrow and want to delete it. I'll resist the urge.
See you soon.
- Joe. x
---------------------------
Setlist for 18/11/11:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
Hey Ya
D.U.I
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Dayglow
My Voice
Goose in 4D
Made With Love
Mary the Snowdeer, I Hate You
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
Chad
---
Bonkers
The Rules
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