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

The George, Bradford on Avon

Blimey, a whole month without a gig, and for once I'm not driving! Beer, beer!
We used this one to try out a few new songs we've been working on, plus a revised set-list without any gaps, which seemed to work out pretty well apart from not giving me enough time to slurp beer, which was probably just as well.
The most people we've ever seen in this venue tonight; clearly everyone has had enough of Christmas and is ready for some serious drinking - so serious in fact that we don't leave the pub till gone one a.m., the landlord having gone to bed.
An excellent night all round - and judging from my head this morning, I must have managed to slurp more beer than I supposed...
Oh well, good practise for New Years Eve (otherwise known as Amateur Night). It's been a few years since we had a gig on that date, and once again I'll be spending it watching Jools Holland & his soddin' Hootenanny on the telly. Whoopdedoo!

Rave from the Grave...

You'd think it would be easy to mime to one of your own songs, wouldn't you? Think again... this was filmed in around 1995 (it's a bit hazy) for a now-defunct cable TV station that operated out of some Portacabins at the back of HTV West, who I suspect had an extension cable going out through their toilet window that they knew nothing about. The production values of this video have been much admired, particularly the 'no expense authorised' visual effects...

We were still called the Brew Band at the time (later on, Chris got fed up with our being constantly mistaken for the infamous 'Brew Crew', which probably lost us quite a few gigs), and this line-up includes the original drummer 'Old Man' Pete, Lenny on the whistle and Tim on mandolin, who kindly sent me a DVD of this. Tim was well known for making himself as inconspicuous as possible at gigs, usually hiding behind a speaker stack if possible - this explains the somewhat panicky expression he wears in the video. In fact, we had to tie his foot to a drainpipe to stop him from running away.

I've inexpertly chopped off the start & end of the song, as the worryingly 'perky' presenter kept leaning into shot to update her 43 viewers on local traffic reports and lost pets...

Right, you asked for it...

In complete disregard of my own 'sufficiently flattering' guidelines above, I present this picture of me sweating attractively at Ashton Court. Gavin challenged me to post a photo with nothing but a guitar, but a quick canvass of the mums at the school gate down the road yielded no-one willing to take such a shot, despite my pleading that I really was extremely cold. God, that was a long walk home...

Still, it took guts to post this one - some of them are visible in fact, hanging over my belt. This was taken in about 1995 though, since when I have embarked on a rigorous programme of self-improvement - as I always say, why settle for a six-pack when you could have a Party Seven?

Gavin ups the ante... look away now!

Shocking evidence comes to light of what happens when you move to France & go into 'showbusiness'! Apparently Gavin is now performing with these other leggy lovelies in a lap-dancing joint in downtown Marseilles, for the gratification of visiting sailors.
Full marks to Gavs for accessorizing though - the belt & hat combo does it every time. I'm slightly worried about the guy to his right - perhaps he did a bit of shopping on the way to work and couldn't find anywhere to stash his legumes? Either way, I'm sure he's a hit with the sailors... Not sure how this affects the 'which Simpson is better looking' debate, but if you think I'm posting a picture of me in my pants, you've got another think coming...