Mr Wolfs, Bristol

Great little venue this - nice PA, right in the centre of Bristol, and bursting at the seams with people; one tiny gripe - no draught beer! AAaagh! Man cannot live by lager alone! But man will have bloody good try nonetheless.
No mandolin on this outing, as Nige has apparently injured his wrist in A Bizarre Exercising Accident, details of which remain shrouded in mystery... in fact, it was touch & go whether we'd have a drummer, after Nick scalded his hand in A Bizarre Baked-Bean Accident earlier this week (I'm not making this up). Lovers of Spinal Tap will see where I'm going with this, but fear not - Chris has already survived a Bizarre Gardening Accident a few years back, when a ride-on lawnmower exploded under him. Ouch.
First up tonight are the Monaros, a new band from Bristol playing only their 4th ever gig, though you wouldn't know it - bags of confidence, good poppy songs and a gorgeous singer - can't go wrong. The mostly youngish crowd loved 'em, and many thanks from me to their bassplayer, who lent me his rather splendid amp for our set, as mine is still sulking in a corner of a repair shop in Malmesbury.
We quickly barred the doors to prevent any escapes, and gave the audience both barrels - great fun, and one of the best gigs we've played in quite a while - loud, hot, sweaty & dark, just the way we like it. Great to see some familiar faces again too, especially Ally & Sol.
Oh, and ta to Grekken for the pic of our own gorgeous singer above!

http://uk.myspace.com/monaros
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17644302@N00/sets/72157604036135251/

Fox & Hounds, Coaley

Once again we turned up far too early to this place, forgetting that we have to wait around for people to finish eating in the restauranty-type bit before we can get on with soundchecking... still, we lugged all the gear in, overlooked apprehensively by the Saturday night dining crowd, and Chris, Nick & Nige all retired to the bar to gawp at the unprecedented spectacle of England actually beating France at Rugby. Apparently this is of interest to some people.
Ruth & I contented ourselves with hiding behind the drumkit, peering out at the merrily noshing punters like a couple of malevolent goblins...
Time ticked on, and the prospect of a reasonably early night was gradually receding so Chris took an executive decision & we started playing anyway. That put paid to any polite after-dinner conversation, but amazingly most of 'em stayed, even the couple bravely cowering under one of the PA speakers, determined to finish their tiramisu in the face of the aural assault.
Cor, makes yer proud to be British, dunnit?

Scallys, W-S-Mare

Ah, Weston Super Mare... home of the International Helicopter Museum, the Lambretta Scooter Museum and, last but not least, the Weston Miniature Railway! And during the summer months, home to thousands of sunburned & drink befuddled Brummies, for some reason.
No sign of them in Scallys tonight - nor anyone else, come to that. Where are the usual crowd of happy bikers (you can tell they're happy, from the flies stuck to their teeth!)? Possibly they're all at the Lambretta Museum? No. Probably not.
Save for a jolly hardcore who disconcertingly seem to know our material (and back catalogue) even better than we do, punters are a bit thin on the ground tonight, which is a shame 'cos we get the best sound we've ever had down here, due in no small part to the lovely bass amp I borrowed from Ali - a truly monstrous beast that takes four grown men to lift it out of the van. Or just me & Chris and a lot of swearing...

Fiddlers, Bristol

After a gap of about 10 years (where did the time go?) a welcome return to my favourite Bristol venue, the excellent Fiddlers club down in Bedminster, still run by the avuncular Joe Cleary & his son Dan, and apparently unchanged apart from a new monster PA suspended from the ceiling above the stage - woo hoo! Last time here was as support for the Oysterband I think, but tonight was a triple-header with old mates The Dolmen, a terrific pagan folk band from down on the South coast, and the John E Vistic Experience from Bristol.
The Dolmen kicked proceedings off in fine style - since I last saw them they've had a few line-up changes and are now much harder edged than before, but still with their infectious sense of fun that has the crowd up & dancing straightaway. They've also got a very good blonde bass player who, as was pointed out to me on several occasions, is much prettier than me... honestly, I brushed my beard especially, what more do people expect?
John E Vistic started their set with a couple of quiet, introspective songs, then gradually increased the pace - great, driving songs with a voice that put me in mind of Tom Waits or a young Johnny Cash. And he's not putting it on, either - he sounds like that offstage as well!
By now, time was starting to run away with us somewhat... in fact it had blindfolded us, bundled us in the boot of a car and driven us out to the middle of nowhere. By the time we took to the stage it was 12.30, and waayyy past our bedtime, but the hardcore had stuck around and we had a blast. Nice to catch up with so many people we hadn't seen in ages too, especially Ally our old sound engineer, and old mate Rick.
Only fly in the ointment for me was that at some point in the evening my wheezing old amp coughed it's guts out & died. A minutes silence seems appropriate, broken only by snaps, crackles, pops & ominous fizzing noises...

http://www.thedolmen.com/
http://www.vistic.co.uk/

The Plough, Manston

A new venue for us this, and almost impossible to find (especially by Nige's SatNav, which apparently took him for a mystery tour through several counties before reluctantly agreeing to show him the way), which is a pity 'cos it's well worth looking for; an unspoilt country pub with real ale, no juke box and a landlady who's not afraid to put on bands that are 'a bit different'.
They do food too, and a few diners retreated in terror as we lugged all our huge threatening looking black boxes through the door... they all came back though, and it turned out to be one of the best pub gigs I can remember playing in a long time - no doubt helped by the pints of Palmers courtesy of the landlady (almost unheard of in this day & age, and very welcome they were too).
Apparently they do an outdoor mini-festy in the summer which we might be back for - hope so, as it's a really friendly place, and I've got a bit of a taste for that Palmers, now...

Bayshill Tavern, Cheltenham

1. Second time at this venue, and a combination of flooding and road closures meant we only just made it in time. Nice pub, quite posh (you can tell it's posh - there's a carpet, and it ain't sticky), but the mainly older crowd actually listen, which counts for a lot.
2. Bafflingly however, despite their obvious enthusiasm, they don't call out for more when we finish - this leaves us with a bit of an 'encore etiquette' conundrum; do we:
   a. Ask if they want any more? A risky strategy this, as you run the risk of complete indifference, or even worse, a stampede of boots towards the exit.
   b. Play another couple anyway, which looks a bit 'staged' - what was the point of saying "that was the last one" if it wasn't? Or...
   c. Shuffle about indecisively for a bit, then pull all the leads out & scuttle to the bar. Needless to say, we went for c.

On a totally unrelated topic, the flyer above is for a new play about the last days of the late, great Brendan Behan, uncle to our Ruthie, written by her sister, which opens later in January - see http://www.brendanatthechelsea.com/ for details.

"It’s the Sixties, New York and we are in that legendary bohemian bolt hole, The Chelsea Hotel. Arthur Miller is just across the hall, the sound of Ornett Coleman is drifting down from the penthouse and the symphony of 24th Street is rising up and in through the open window of Brendan Behan’s room. He’s broke, hung over and way past the delivery date of his latest book, the first line of which he has yet to write. He was told to stop drinking or he’d be dead in six months – that was two years ago."

Hell, we've all been there...

Loudest Drummer in the World rediscovered in Frozen North!

Believed for many years to be extinct, Mark Rodgers, the last drummer for the Brew Band, has resurfaced in Glasgow. He's now beating the living daylights out of his kit for the Scruffs, along with ex-Brew Band bass player Simon Cottrell (whose amp I once rather embarassingly threw out of a van... I wonder if he's forgiven me yet?)

Here they are on the back of their new release Pop Manifesto:

http://www.thescruffs.com/index.html