2015

Day 88

Posted on by Sibylline

Sunday December 28

Despite getting to bed at ridiculous O’Clock this morning – 5am – and despite the fact that I’m in work today at 12, I wake up at sometime between 9 and 10am with last night’s events ringing round my head. They just keep going and won’t let go. That’s it. No need for an alarm. No need for more sleep. No thoughts of lying in until I feel ready to get up. No. All I can think of is the solo I was thrown into last night and how things can be done differently next time. I just have to get up and go have a look at that.

I don’t want to go too technical, but I jump straight out of bed, power on the computer and drag the bass out of its case. I think it’s more sleepy than I am. Well, of course it is. I’m suddenly wide awake. There’s only one thing on my mind. Autumn Leaves, the modes within it and how they can be used to solo. What mode goes with what chord? Could that be the key to breaking the solo? I’ve done it before. It was a good few months ago when I did it last but I did it. I have a go at that, very slowly, and mess about with soloing through the chords. It starts to come back.

Then I forget all about that because something else happens. Very very suddenly. For the past week I’ve been trying to play continuous arpeggios, that is going from one chord to the next by playing the nearest available note which means not necessarily the root note of the next chord. It has been very difficult going.  But then a switch suddenly flips and a whole new world of possibilities opens up in front of me. Way back in May I developed a technique to play all the chords in a scale without changing hand position. I thought it was a fun/challenging little exercise. But now, out of the blue, I see a use for it. Once you know how to play all the chords like that, you can just interchange between them and, whether you’re hitting root notes or not is of no consequence at all. I don’t quite hit soloing territory but I’ve found a huge area on which it could happen. Everything is there. It’s quite a bizarre comparison but all I can think of is Marconi discovering radiowaves and dismissing them as a novelty, something to have a play with after a few drinks or whatever. Not something that could actually be used for anything. Well, that’s how I’ve always felt about this little exercise. Until now. Really not a bad before work shed.

 

Day 89

Monday December 29

Today I discover that someone of my acquaintance is quite a major music player. He’s a band manager of quite a few up and coming and happening UK and international acts. I’ll put it this way. When a certain pretty huge American band comes to town, the singer doesn’t stay in a hotel. He stays in this person’s house. I guarantee you would know the band if I told you.

The thing is, the person I know just wants to hang out. He doesn’t want to be bothered with work stuff or people coming up to him talking about this or that about music. He’s just hanging out with the boys and that’s it. He and I have had some really fun chats with nothing to do with music. And I’ve decided that’s how it has to stay. We know a lot of the same people. I’m sure sooner or later he’ll discover what I do. Maybe he already knows. I have no idea. But rather than push me to get to know this guy better, this new information is more likely to lead me to become more distant because the last thing I want is for him to think I’m ingratiating myself. No. This really is a time to play it cool.

I discover all this in a late night drinking session. I’m with the boys from work and we’re just closing up. We’re standing at the corner of the bar. All the lights are off and the only illumination left is coming from the beer taps giving a slightly epic quality to the conversation.

In this environment, we start talking about the possibilities of London. It’s me, Kieron and Dan, the songwriter I mentioned not long back. Kieron starts talking about the possibility of extra work. You know, adverts and small films and the like. Or big films come to think of it. Why not? I signed up to one when I was in Madrid. Not because I had any ambitions to be an actor or extra but because there was always the promise of a big payday and because native English extras or ‘actors’ were often needed. And think about it. You’re an actor. Madrid, or any non English country is not really the place you think about going. So film production companies there will take what they can get if they’re looking for someone who’s native English. Well, I never got anything and there’s absolutely no reason I should have done, but there were a few interesting auditions. So I have a little experience. With Kieron’s prompting here, and the fact that he’s brought it up, all of a sudden this seems like something I might want to sign up for in London. Apart from a very welcome income boost, you never know who you might meet on one of those things. I mean, three of The Corrs were extras in The Commitments and look where they ended up. They actually met their manager as a direct result of being in that film. It’s during this conversation that we get to talking about the difference between what people say they do and what they actually do; the main point here, according to Kieron, is the huge amount of people in London claiming to be actors and models when they’ve never been anywhere near either but are just trying to get there. I put my hand up. “Guys,” I say, “I know I say I’m a bass player but I admit the truth is that at the moment I’m a waiter.” The comeback is spontaneous. Kieron and Dan loudly denounce that and say, almost in unison, “No. You’re a professional bass player.” OK. I won’t argue.

 

Day 90

Tuesday December 30

Just a thought today. With the idea of going to jams on the days I have off, I realise this gives me very little opportunity to catch up with friends who live in London, or to see friends when they visit London as happened again this week. Twice actually with Madrid friends. With both of them, I was just unable to get my agenda to match, jam sessions or no jam sessions. With all this in mind, I decide that if I’m going to be able to keep up with anyone, it’s going to have to be lunches. Unless they want to meet in darkest Camden sometime past midnight.

 

Day 91

Wednesday December 31

I’m well aware these are the big payday days for professional musicians but for now I’m just keeping working. I remember back in Ireland in a band I was in, for just the one week or so around Christmas and new year, every member made over €1000. But really, I’m not thinking about any of that. I really am just glad to have a job and to be busy. But I discover there are worse places to spend new year’s eve than working in a busy bar/restaurant. It really is a fun night with all the staff dressed up from the 1980s. No pictures I’m afraid but I end up looking like an extra from Saved By The Bell. This bit of fun goes on until about 4am. Then…

 

Day 92

Thursday January 1

Did I mention I was back in work today at 12pm? And that I’m going to be on until the bar closes? No? I must have forgotten that. Just like I forget to reset my alarm when it goes off at about 11. A little later, my phone buzzes with a Facebook message from Jenn in Madrid. Although at that time I don’t know it’s from Jenn. Instead, the buzzing wakes me up, I look at the phone and see the time. 11:52. Balls balls balls balls balls. I’m up immediately, dressed so quickly I’m surprised it all goes on the right way round, and on the road. I arrive at the bar less than 5 minutes late and really, no-one seems to notice or care so that’s that bit sorted. Everyone’s nursing their hangovers but I’ve not had time to get one of those yet. Instead, I’m settling myself in for what I’ve been told all week will be a nice quiet, easy day. To that effect, I’m in the restaurant on my own. All day. But then at 12:30 a table of four comes in. Followed by another then another and yet another. I’m turning round and seeing people all sat down and settled who I hadn’t even seen walk in. The other staff are noticing it too with something like disbelief. Without hesitation, Dru, the boss, joins me in the restaurant. At first it’s a case of him helping out while I’m overrun. But it soon becomes apparent this isn’t going to stop and he stays for the entire day doing everything any other floor staff member would do. It really is a great piece of mucking in and hugely appreciated by me. And that’s how I spend new year’s day. The two of us manning a restaurant until 9pm that more and more resembles something out of the film Zulu. For the last hour or so, when it’s all over and I’m just cleaning up, until sitting down and having a massively deserved pint before going home, all I can do is make quiet relief-filled swears.

It’s around this time that I discover that this new year’s day has done nearly five times as much business as last new year’s day. Why? No-one knows. And no. I really haven’t had any time to have a hangover.

 

Day 93

Friday January 2

I’m working again today. 5:30pm this time but is it any surprise to hear that very little gets done in the hours before setting off?

But tonight is mercifully quiet and around 11pm I realise I can easily get out of here before midnight and head off to Troy Bar. The restaurant’s all closed and there’s hardly anyone in the bar. So I’m asked what the hell I’m doing still hanging around. With that I take my cue to leave and go home.

Once there, I run a very quick check on the internet on that brief stop home but all the website has is the usual every Friday night jam. There’s no update for whether it’s happening tonight or not. It can’t hurt to check. And if nothing is happening musicwise, maybe I’ll have the chance to hang out with one or two of the Troy regulars and get myself a little more known in the process. And if the place is closed altogether, I’ll do the same in the nearby bars. This is, afterall, prime creative people territory. Less than five minutes home and I’ve got my bass ready and I’m out the door.

When I arrive, I get a London first. I see someone I played with at another jam session. So finally the connections between them are starting to happen. It’s one of the guitarists from Troyganic. I know it’s only round the corner, but even so. I come round behind him and give him a little nudge on the shoulder. As I do, he turns around with his hand all ready for shaking. And that’s when I notice an immediate difference in this environment. In most places where someone gets a tap on the shoulder, it’s, “Who are you?” Here, they’re ready to shake the guy’s hand before they even know who it is. Once he sees who it is, he’s like, “Oh, you’re the guy from last week. Great to see you here.” That little introduction made, I turn round and there’s Milan, the four year guitarist who comes and mixes it up with the big boys. Although I’ve not been here for a while, he tells me I’ve probably only missed one session. So that’s good to know. Still, it does feel, with working those Fridays, that I’ve been away a while.

That’s confirmed when I head into the main room where the houseband is up and running. David’s on keys tonight. When he looks up and sees me, he pulls a huge face of surprise which also says, ‘Great to see you.’ It’s quite a fun moment actually.

After that, the main guy James starts to take names for the jam session and I go to see him and get a huge handshake and a ‘happy new year.’ Then, when he starts calling names, I’m the second bass player on. Not only that, but this time I’m playing with David who’s now switched to drums. And damn, he’s as good as anyone I’ve seen in here. It’s around this point that James playfully starts telling the crowd how much he hates David. You see, earlier on he was playing trumpet so he really seems to have everything covered. In fact, I don’t think he touches the bass all night.

As we start, the guitarist sings me a riff to double up with him. It’s a famous 70s funk riff but  can’t remember what song it is. I recognise it but I’ve never played it before. I play what he’s just sung and he’s, ‘Yeah. That’s it. What key do you have it in?’ I tell him, carry on playing it and he kicks in. Me, him and David build and rise this thing and I start to groove it with the actual main riff acting as a refrain. During all this, a trombone player jumps up and starts giving it big time. Taking a breath, he stops, turns to me and shouts, “Great grooves man.” Thankyou very much.

We play another song, I take a solo and we’re done. Cool. As I take my bass off, I get a big handshake and a well done from the next bass player to take my place. He asks me my name and I get his – Terry Smiles. I’ve just googled him. He only played with Michelle from Destiny’s Child. Bloody hell.

Tonight I start to feel I’m getting a pretty decent handle on the place. Who’s who, who knows who, that kind of thing. Not totally deep into how it all works but enough to see that some of these guys have been around a long time and quite possibly went to college together or have played gigs around the place together. There are also some guys who feel more free to wander about the stage than others. I mean, I don’t think it would really fly if I took off my bass and then headed over to have a play on the bongos. But there are people who do. And David just seems to get up and play whatever he wants whenever he wants. Then you have James who will go up to various musicians and scat with them. And the occasional bass player who’ll go up more than once in a night. Yes. This is clearly a community with links that go out and beyond Friday night at the Troy bar. So right now, I’ll settle for the fact I’m just able to get up there whenever I turn up.

Come kicking out time with a slightly less populated bar, the trombone player comes up to me and says, “That was some great groove playing you were doing up there.” Then he continues, “If you ever need a horn section, give me a call.” With that he gives me his card. Someone giving me their card like that. Another first. I tell him thanks a lot and give him mine. We’re in a bit of a melee with people swarming all around and bouncers trying to get people out so that’s as far as the conversation goes.

When I get home, I send him an email saying it was great to meet him and play with him and will probably catch him at another jam night sometime. So now there’s a little more contact made with a musician on the scene.

Day 94

Posted on by Sibylline

Saturday January 3

I have a day off today but is it any surprise that I find myself a bit under the weather? Even a skype conversation with a friend in Madrid I have lying down. As a result, I don’t even go to tonight’s jazz jam at Troyganic.

I do, however, get a reply from James the trombone player. It turns out he’s a full time professional musician and plays and sings with a band called Swingpunks who he invites me to check out. As I now invite you. They’re about to release their debut album. As you may imagine, it’s big band recreations of punk classics. I have a listen and it’s all huge fun and played with great musicianship which is slightly ironic considering the ideals of punk. I’m sure that, with the right marketing and a favourable wind, it will be a huge success.

 

Day 95

Sunday January 4

A little development today as I discover I’m working tomorrow at 10:30am till 6:30. First, this means that I’m now going to be trained on the bar as well as the restaurant, but it also means that I won’t be exclusively working nights anymore which could well go a huge amount to squaring that circle I’ve been talking about. And even with working some days, when I do, it’s not like I’ll be having to get up at 7:30am.

 

Day 96

Monday January 5

I turn up for my first day shift and it’s me and Kieran on the bar. During it, I discover that it was the idea of the boss, Dru, to start giving me day shifts so I can have more evenings off to go and play music and just generally get myself a little more known by being able to go out more. This is confirmed when I hang around after work to talk to him about a minor issue. He says, “Are you still here? Haven’t you got a jam or someplace to go to? That’s why I put you on days.” I tell him indeed I do. We sort out the little thing very quickly and I’m gone. For the first time since I arrived at The Oxford, I’ve done my work for the day and now the evening is mine.

What to do with it. I decide it’s well past time I went and had a look at The Blues Kitchen in Camden. I take my bass, just because, even though there’s no sign of a jam session happening there tonight. But you never know. I may even end up some other place in Camden.

I get to the place and settle down at the bar waiting to see what the night will bring. It’s good just to finally see the venue. Big and long down one side, all open and massive restaurant tables nearer the entrance. And a little dark, like a blues bar should be. My idea of coming here is also to start to get my face a little on the Camden scene. Just little by little, night by night. Post work/midnight happenings with Kieran and the boys, this is my first foray onto the mainstream music scene here and I pause just to take it in.

Chatting to a barman and having a look at the signs around the place, I see there’s a show in here every night of the week, tonight of course being no exception. And there’s a jam session on Sunday nights, advertised as London’s biggest Blues jam. Whether it is or not I’ll leave the London boys to debate. But I’m informed that singers and guitarists can expect to get just two songs while bass players are often left up there for four or five. As for the band tonight, it will be good to actually see a full show, and maybe get to chat with the guys afterwards.

The time for the band to start comes and goes and I ask my friendly bartender what’s happening. He says it looks like they’ve not shown up for some reason and that the sound engineer is calling around to see if he can get a band to come in and cover. I inform him that I’m a bass player, I have my bass and if they find they have a solution but are short a bassist, I could help out. He thanks me and I see him go over and have a little conversation with the sound guy. But ten minutes later, I hear one of the bar staff say to another, ‘No show tonight. Turn all the equipment off.’ Shame.

So I’ve managed to get a night off and used it to go to a major London blues venue where I’ve managed to see no band, play no bass and not even really meet anyone. I don’t think a quick word or two with a barman really counts. Well, that’s how it goes sometimes. And sometimes you’re minding your own business on a nightbus and make a Facebook friend.

 

Day 97

Tuesday January 6

When my phone goes off at work tonight, I see it’s Craig, vocalist from The Punching Preachers. The restaurant’s quiet so I answer it and step outside, being careful to make sure I can still see what’s happening inside.

After the preliminaries, he tells me the reason for the call. The boys want me to come in and do a full rehearsal with them to see if I could become their dep bass player. But reading between the lines, I feel there’s a little more there. I’ll just have to see how it plays out but he tells me there’s going to be a specific few songs they want me to look at. This time, rather than me just going in and playing, they want to see how I actually interact and work with the rest of the band in working up a new song or two. He tells me they’ve got gigs coming out of their ears. All in all, quite an interesting call.

 

Day 98

Wednesday January 7

Craig calls me again today to confirm the date for the rehearsal or, as I’m calling it, reaudition. He says they want me to learn two originals the band has just demoed and three new covers they’re adding to the set. They want me in for two hours to see how I really work with the band on material they’re not too familiar with themselves. This way they’ll be able to see how I work with them as they go through the process of developing songs. I figure that with so many gigs happening and people off doing other jobs, either in or out of music, different people are sometimes needed in the same position. I’ve seen this with Nora at the Troyganic jazz session and Omater’s spoken about this kind of thing as well.

The date will be Saturday the 17th in a studio in Bethnal Green.

I do some bass practice and gently meander into the afternoon when I think I’ll get some diary writing done. Before I can do that, I have some little shopping errands to run and decide to use them to pop into work and see what time I’m in tomorrow as I didn’t check last night. Basically, the end of my street is at one end of Kentish Town Road so, unless I pop to my local shop for milk or something, any trip out takes me by the Oxford so it’s convenient to run in.

When I do, Kieran’s there with Dan, the assistant manager of one of the Oxford’s sister bars, The Vine, on the other side of The Forum. Dan insists I stay for a drink which he’ll buy. Well, yes I have things to do but I’ll still have those things to do tomorrow and he and Kieran look nice and settled at the bar and are inviting me to join them. What can I do? I tell Kieran about the reaudition and they ask me if I have any plans for tonight, no doubt planning a bit of a session. Well, I actually do have plans tonight. I’m taking the opportunity of a Wednesday off to head on down to a jam I’ve not been able to go to before.

Kieran says he’ll come which is great, although I do say I’ve heard it’s not a night for singers. No problem. We’ll see how we go. He also says that after this drink he’s off to The Abbey down the road for one. Do I want to come? Dan’s on his way out so cool. I’ve abandoned all thoughts of errands or writing by this point but I do manage to check the schedule so at least one thing gets done.

Then it’s off down the road to The Abbey. This is the bar I came to the first night I came out with Kieran and met all the staff and regulars at a lock in. It’s also the bar I came to on my way to my walk into the West End the day I got my accommodation sorted. The two same barguys who were on that day are on now so there’s a nice little hello there. After a little while, a huge bear of a man with a big beard comes ambling in and sits next to me. He knows Kieran so says hi. I think we’ve established that everyone knows Kieran. Then Mr K walks off for a nature break and I introduce myself to the newcomer. His name’s Lee and he’s a bouncer at something of an exclusive new bar just down the road called Ladies and Gents. I discover it is what it says. An old underground toilet which has been converted to a cocktail bar. Time Out’s been apparently. It’s really fun meeting him and having a chat but a look at the time says I should be heading off if I don’t want to be in a rush for getting out again. This jam session starts at 11pm and finishes at 1am so relatively early.

I wonder where Kieran’s got to and it seems he saw me chatting with Lee and left me to it to go and hang out with some of his mates in another area of the bar. I’ll give a brief description of the place now. It’s essentially one big open square with a very high ceiling. It’s also on a corner of Kentish Town Road and has enormous windows. Practically the whole bar all the way around two walls is windows. Through these we can see the weather’s not getting any better. At all. Rain is coming down quite hard. Studying this, Kieran says he won’t be coming to the jam. He doesn’t fancy the trip there or the night bus trek back with the threat of wetness all night. Combine that with the fact that it’s not singers night, he’s been out a bit longer than I have today and is now newly settled with some old friends, it’s hardly a surprise the homier comforts have won out. Absolutely cool. Well, as you know, I prefer to go to new jams on my own anyway so I say goodbye and head off into an increasingly soggy London. I’m going to walk home, pick up my bass and go try out this new jam.

I arrive in good time and immediately see it’s a totally different crowd to Friday. Younger for a start. And not at all packed. There’s not one person in here I recognise. I feel I’ve never been here before. The host is also a lot more low key. He basically goes onto the stage and says, “Can we have a guitarist,” or whatever it is he’s looking for up there. When the call comes up for, “Any bassists here?” I put my hand up and call out. He looks at me. Cool. I get the bass out and make my way to the front but before I arrive, I see someone’s already jumped up. OK. I’ll make the next one.

It gives me a chance to sit back and see how this thing happens. I’ll save my impressions of that for what happens when I get up.

First, the guitarist asks if I know a particular song. No I don’t. He tries to play it for me. It’s change city. I’m not going to try to follow that and no-one should be asking anyone to. Now he can’t play his song, he seems a little lost so I go easy and suggest just going for a blues. I tell him to just take the lead and me and the drummer will follow. He doesn’t seem incredibly excited about that but he’s given nothing else to play with so I’ve made the call. You can’t hang around too much on those stages. He goes off on a decent pattern and then I come in behind him. Then the drummer comes in.

Did I just say the drummer comes in? I’m not entirely sure what he does but at least he starts hitting things. Essentially, what he’s doing behind us is a solo. A full on solo using every part of the kit, often at the same time. With snare rolls at any given opportunity. We’re playing a blues riff. Against this, the guitarist is going mad soloing which is fine. He’s the guitarist. So what do I do?

I have two choices. The first one is to be the only one up there holding some kind of groove. But how can I hold a groove when there’s nothing there to hold onto? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Period. My other option is just to go off on one like these other two guys around me who seem unaware there are other people on the stage. I end up neither playing a groove or soloing. I mean, what would a solo have done? As for a groove, I feel we’ve entered a realm where time signatures don’t exist.

At one point, something skips and the time of the song floats away and I’m really unsure of where we are now. I look round to the drummer who’s now momentarily paused in his epicness to mouth, ‘sorry.’ I give a little nod. All cool. At the same time, I give a hand signature to him, “Calm down.” He nods an acknowledgement and I think it’s going to change. But no. He’s off again. Ram! Crash! Smash! Bash! Dash! Lash! Zash! Keep adding letters to the beginning. You’ll be fine and it’ll sound just as good.

The ‘song’ ends. I don’t know how. I think the other guys just remember they have drinks at the bar or something and decide it’s time to go get them. Maybe they let me know, maybe they don’t. I just have an awareness at some point that the maelstrom has ended and I’m somehow still on two feet. After this, the host comes up and says he’s going to play a funk riff in Eminor. He asks that we just keep it solid behind him. The drummer changes and there’s some semblance of harmony and rhythm this time and the guitarist actually looks over to me for a quick nod and smile. As this is happening, I notice my previous percussive tormentor settling very proudly in the audience like he’s just come up and really done his thing and wasn’t it amazing? Well, the noise of the band you were just playing in was pretty bloody terrible and I was part of it. So I would suggest it’s not job done at all. Would I pay to see any band he’s in or recommend him for anything I was involved with? No. But he’s hot stuff on the drums and he’s let everyone know it regardless of what it did for the music or any semblance of band, group, collective. I guess he’d be the drumming equivalent of the fantastically skillful footballer who never ever passes.

I soon realise he’s not alone. All night I watch bass players show amazing technique, guitarists shredding to the absolute  max and drummers pulling off lightening riffs. But for practically the whole time I feel that there are three musicians on the stage with no idea that anyone else is up there with them. Close your eyes and imagine this. You give a guitarist, bassist and drummer a key and a speed. Then tell them to work on the biggest baddest most technical soloey thing they can do with that information and record it. Once they’ve all recorded their parts, you’re just going to stick them all together and call it a song. This is what I listen to most of the night. There are some decent spots but on the whole, it’s like I’ve just explained. Oh, and there’s a very definite cliquiness about the place. With whoops and cheers as some guy pulls off a musical triple sumersault, irregardless of what it’s just done to the other two guys he’s playing with. So I seem to be alone in thinking music should be played a little differently to this.

I’m sure you’ve read about sportsmen saying that the higher the level they got to the easier it was to play. Well tonight I’m beginning to appreciate the truthfulness of that statement. These guys are all technically very good and I’ve no doubt they all impress their girlfriends or boyfriends or mothers or grandmothers. But to play with them was not a fun experience. And not in an ‘I’m out of my depth’ kind of way. Just not fun.

When it’s time to leave I leave. I think this is the first jam session I’ve ever been at that I have no intention of returning to. It’s also the first jam session I’ve ever played at where I remain totally anonymous. As I leave I’m aware it’s as though I never even arrived. That’s OK because I won’t be arriving again.

Day 99

Posted on by Sibylline

Thursday January 8

I go to The Punching Preachers website today and pull up their whole repertoire. It contains 64 songs. At some point in my musical experiences I’ve played 28 of them. By the end of some shedding with Youtube videos, I’ve got that number up to 34. I’ve now played more than half of their repertoire although, to be fair, how much of it I remember I’m sure I’ll soon be finding out.

 

Day 100

Friday January 9

Today I receive the reaudition tracks from Punching Preachers. Two unmastered original recordings as promised, three new covers the band is working up and a copy of their typical setlist. I have a look at the setlist and see there are only five songs on there I’ve never played before. Then I get about having a listen to the tracks they’ve written themselves to see where they’re going with this. First, for unmastered demos, they’re really good recordings. The songs are very punchy, have a great speed and energy and are very memorable. At least one of them is clearly an instant crowd pleaser. As a rock cover band, that’s what it’s all about and it seems they’ve delivered. Now I’ve got to learn all this stuff and make sure I deliver too. Craig’s already told me he loves the bassline on one of the tracks, which I saw as a hint that he didn’t want me messing about with it too much. Listening to it, I can see exactly what he means and no, I won’t be messing about with it at all. It’s a fantastic walking pattern under frenetic rock guitars and hugely melodic vocals. It sounds like a bit of a monster to learn but that’s what I’ve bought into.

 

Day 102

Sunday January 11

On Friday I started work at 6pm and got out of there around 2am. Then I was in at noon the next day to finish at 1:30am. A few drinks after meant I got home at about 3:30am.

Today I’m in again at 11am but the good news is I finish at 6:30pm which means I can finally try to go and play at The Blues Kitchen in Camden which is just down the road from me. From what I’ve heard, it’s one of THE blues jams in the city. They advertise it themselves as the biggest blues jam in London.

My plan had been to take my bass to work and go straight down after but I was a little slow getting my crap together this morning and thought, ‘It doesn’t matter. I can come back and get it.’ But when I do come back and get it, there’s no way I’m running back out straight away. A totally exhausted fall over collapse nap is on the cards which happens just after I remember to set an alarm otherwise I really could sleep right through till morning. When I finally stop resetting the alarm and do actually get myself upright again, a small part of me says, ‘Let’s not go. You don’t have to go. It’s warm in here and it’s cold and rainy out there. Really. Let’s not go.’ I give that part of me a proper slap, get the bass and run out the door before the conversation can begin again.

You can walk to Camden in about 10-15 minutes and I often do but as I said, the weather’s not the best, I’m still damn tired and I’m carrying my bass. The only way is busways. On the way I pass Ladied And Gents and standing at the top of the stairs on street level is Lee who I met at The Abbey the other day. I go over and say hi to him. Of course he spots the big strange case and asks what it’s all about and I tell him about The Blues Kitchen thing. He tells me I’ve got two choices of bus here. The 214 which doubles as the nightbus I get back from Troy Bar or the C2 which goes to Victoria. Just as I finish chatting to him, I turn round and see the 214 leaving. “I’m holding you directly responsible for that,” I call back to him. Five minutes later the C2 arrives and then not long after that I’m walking into The Blues Kitchen bass in hand.

I’m aware I’m arriving a little late but then I remember getting to Troy Bar a while back when I thought I should and having to wait an hour just for the house band to go on then two hours after that for the jam to start. So I’m playing just a touch fast and loose with the rules.

The first person I see once inside the door is someone who looks like he works here so I ask him about the jam. “Registration was between 7 and 8,” he says a little sternly. It’s now nearly 9 O’Clock and everything is clearly well underway. I tell him I’m a bass player, well aware that for a guitarist or vocalist, turning up this late would be game over. “Well, the guy who runs it is the bassist and he plays most of the night. If you can get to the front and get his attention, you might get lucky.” OK. Now I know what I have to do. But as I pass the bar and head into the venue area the crowd suddenly becomes all but impassable, especially with this huge hardcase I’ve got with me. And it’s a big crowd. Right now I can’t figure out how I’m going to get past the first two rows, nevermind get to the front. So I just stand and watch for a while, slowly accepting that this is as good as it’s going to get this week and next time, no matter how tired I am, if I get out of work on time I’m going to run straight down here and sign up. At least I’ll get a good look at how it all works and if I can somehow get to the bar through the crowd behind me with this lot I might be able to get an after work drink and just relax and enjoy the event.

When the band stops playing and starts the changeover of musicians, the crowd suddenly seems to become a little more open. It’s the opposite of my experience with the front rows of huge shows. If you’re looking to get right to the front before the band starts and you’re not already there, forget it. But if you wait till the band kicks off, the crowd starts to move and little gaps appear here and there and once you’re in, at some points you can’t help but get sucked a few rows further forward. I have a lot of experience with this and once crowd surfed three times during a Metallica gig, each time going over the barrier, running along it to get back into the side then round to the ‘back’ of the front then all the way in till a few feet from the stage to go and do it all over again. While I’m here I might as well recount this little incident. All this happened at The Milton Keynes Bowl. Once you were over the barrier, the security guards told you to run. This was because there were so many crowd surfers coming over; the way had to remain clear for them to be able to make it. On one of these such runs, just as I’d cleared the barrier, a guy in front of me stumbled. That made me stumble but as I banged into him, I was able to stop him from falling and then push him back into a run. Behind us, tens of Metallica fans were forging over the barriers like some kind of attack from a war film. Just to our right and above all this was the stage. Metallica just happened to be playing One. Not only that but right at this moment, they were doing that machine gun part which comes complete with its huge strobe lights. Well, that guy stumbling, me getting him running again, the hordes coming over behind us, it was all happening in real slow motion as the strobe lights did their epic work. In those few frantic moments, I was in a real, live Metallica video.

The Blues Kitchen is nothing like that.

So anyway, the crowd loosens a little and I’m able to make my way through it but not all the way so I end up being the idiot in a crowd holding a huge basscase. Thanks for coming. Eventually I’m able to get myself in a relatively comfortable position, in front of the main thickness of the crowd to an area where the stage is about ten feet away or so. It’s not like it’s a mosh pit with a seething mass right to the edge of the stage so that’s good. Now I can also see everything that’s going on. And what’s going on is a guy at the front of the stage is chatting to the bass player high above him. When he’s finished talking the music’s going to continue again and I’m not going to run up there now and hold up things anymore than they already have been by the changeover that’s currently taking place. Instead, I wait until the two songs have finished. Then I plan to chance my arm and, in front of this huge mass of people behind me and carrying the case, to walk across the clear, empty area, totally exposed and try to catch the bass player’s attention before things build up again. It turns out I don’t have to do that. Instead, he hands over to another bass player and comes down onto the floor, clipboard in hand. Fantastic. Now I can go and introduce myself properly and have a relaxed conversation with him. Two guys are ahead of me in the queue to talk to him but I wait patiently then we meet. His name is Kez. I tell him I’m a bass player and he says there’s a chance I could get on. Brilliant. I thank him very muchly and take a step aside to let him continue with all his busy stuff.

When I do step aside, I get a knock on my shoulder. “Hey. Are you playing tonight?” I look and see a girl I don’t know and she says, “If you need a place to put that and sit down you can come and join us.” OK. Thankyou very much. “Where are you from?” she asks. Now, I’m not really from anywhere having never lived in a place long enough as a kid to be able to say I was from there. But no-one wants an explanation to that question. It’s like asking how old you are. “Well, I don’t really have an age, but…” Just answer the bloody question. Not that I’m suggesting you go around asking people how old they are. So sometimes I say Warrington, sometimes I say Manchester, just because my extended family’s from there and it’s close to Warrington. Not many people outside of the north have even heard of Warrington. Its famous exports are Chris Evans and Kerry Katona. But I sense a northern accent in this girl so I say Warrington. At which she gets really excited and says she passes by it all the time when driving to Newcastle. See what I mean? You don’t go to Warrington by accident. For most people who know of it, it’s a traffic sign. It is a big enough town to be fair though with a massive, sprawling population. But this girl knows where I’m from. Kind of. Now she’s all gushing enthusiasm but as I get talking to her she just genuinely seems that kind of person. So somehow, I’ve not only managed to get to the front of the crowd, meet the bass player and get my name on the list, I’ve also now got a seat and a place for my bass to sit. And a table. I’ve not mentioned this yet but Jill is with her husband Peter, from New York, her cousin Gary, his girlfriend Anna and their friend Tammy from LA. I meet all of them, they’re all  hugely welcoming and Jill insists I must let them buy me a drink, on account of me having to hang around to wait to be called up to play. How can I refuse? Tammy, who I’ve not even spoken to yet, says she’ll go. And she returns with a very fine pint. Through all this, I’m mainly talking to Jill and Peter, simply because it’s too loud to have a conversation across the whole table. I find out some fun stuff about them but that’s all their business and they ask me about the bass playing thing. Then we stop and watch the show again for a while. An old blues singer gets up called Sonny B Walker and he’s a huge presence. All sunglasses and long black coat. The real image of a bluesman. He does a few songs. Then a female singer and her harmonica playing friend get up and just tear the place apart. Jill keeps nudging me asking when I’m going on. I say I have no idea. When I see another bassist go up, I decide I have time to run to the toilet. When I get down there, I see Kez. I say hi and tell him that once I saw the next set starting I figured I had enough time to come and sort things out down here. “Cool,” he says. “You’re on next.” Fantastic. Perfect timing. I run up and tell the guys and they’re hugely enthusiastic about it. This is it. I’m about to play The Blues Kitchen.

Five minutes later and my name’s called. I grab everything, mount the steps to the stage and plug in.

The other jams I’ve been at have been really cool but this feels like a proper gig. There’s a big drum riser behind me and in front, the lights are all on the stage and a lot of the crowd is little more than a shadow but it can certainly be seen that there is a crowd. It looks, from here, like it stretches right the way back to the venue even though a lot of the people over there are probably just hanging out only vaguely aware there’s a band on a stage somewhere near them.

Up there we have five guys who have never met including one Freddie Mercury lookalike. This is very deliberate. He goes by the name Freddie and is only a click or two away from being ready for a fancy dress party. But he pulls it off and is totally flamboyant about it both in how he carries himself and then in how he performs, even to the point of carrying the top half of the mic stand. It’s a bit bizarre to be playing Freddie Mercury at a blues jam but it really is all fun. As we run through the riffs, I settle on a really powerful walking line that Freddie gets right into, banging his head with every new note while joyfully playing airbass along with me. It really feels like a show and he’s right up there as the frontman with me taking the place as instant sidekick. I get into it all. I’m right in the groove and just give it as though I was playing up there with my own band. But still, all the time I’m very careful to keep communication with the guitarists and the drummer to make sure everything is tight and all looked after.

The performance of this ad hoc band all gets a fantastic reaction and when our two songs are up, all the lads make their way off the stage and I start getting my bass off too. That’s when Kez walks up to me and says, “You’re staying up for the next one.” Great.

For this, me and the two new guitarists are joined by Dan, the house drummer who adds quite a bit of power to the mix and we become the driving force at the back of the stage although, in the first song, a slow blues number he does shout out for me to play less notes. I didn’t think I was doing anything that radical but OK. I settle into a kick drum fuelled root note pattern with the occasional passing note which gets an approving nod. After that, it’s a fast, driving shuffle into which I really go for it while keeping all the low end present. So there’s no solo and I don’t go looking for one but I still get seriously busy while always maintaining the rhythm. There’s no shout from Dan to play less notes this time and he gets right into it as the three of us out front set about giving it some. A few quiet parts set up some nice dynamics and we move in and out of them as though we’d been rehearsing all week. There’s just good, solid communication there and, as one guitarist changes gear in a solo, the rest of us just fall in behind him. Then it all builds up in a blues crescendo before crashing down and we’re done.

Kez comes up and introduces us all individually and the crowd’s reaction to my name makes me feel like a little rock star.

I’m also reminded here that musicians in jam sessions can sometimes be a little like dogs in a park. There we are on stage, strangers who somehow look like the best of friends as the music takes over and we all really get into it and bounce off each other. Then, especially in a place this size, we all walk off stage, into our separate ways and possibly don’t talk to or see each other for the rest of the night.

All that over, I climb down the stairs of the stage and straight into my new friends at the front. Jill seems to be in a little state of shock. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she says. “We had you so underestimated.” Then Peter’s next. “You said you had work tomorrow?” he asks. “Yes,” I reply. “Well, for me, you’ve just been to work. You are a professional.”

Then, as I’m talking to them, I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn round and there’s Sonny B Walker. “I had to come over to congratulate you,” he says, before saying a few other things I probably shouldn’t repeat here before I start to get too high an opinion of myself. He concludes by saying, “You and me are going to play together.” I thank him profusely, give him a card and watch him disappear into the crowd again.

It goes on like this for quite a while. I lose count of the number of people who either have something to say or ask, “Are you the bass player from earlier?” I’m watching one guy on stage and I think he’s fantastic. Real solid technique. He looks seasoned. He looks a pro. There’s no flash in his movements but everything is executed crisply and effortlessly. When he comes back, he walks past me and I give him a tap and say, “Really good playing.” “Thanks a lot,” he says quickly but politely. And walks off as you would. Then he’s back. “Are you the bass player?” he asks. I have to confess that I am. “Thankyou very much,” he says, this time giving me a good, solid handshake.

And so it continues. While I’m there grooving to it all, a girl emerges, dancing from the crowd. She sees me, walks over pointing, gives me a huge hug then an emphatic high five.

Then, up on stage, something happens. Most singers get up and say hi, or thanks or whatever, or just get on with singing. This guy comes up like it’s his own show and we’re all there to see him. He acts like the main act and, maybe it’s the confidence with which he does it, but he’s welcomed as such. So right in the middle of the blues night comes a singer who plays his originals backed by what seems an assortment of friends and random jammers who just happen to be there. Immediately he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. His songs are fantastic and catchy and he has everyone singing along.

Later, as I’m walking back from the bar, I see him. He sees me too and we kind of just point at each other. Then we meet in the middle and have a quick chat. He tells me he runs an open mic on Brick Lane and he’d love to see me there, and maybe I’d get up and play with a few people. Then he tells me about a show he has coming up in Westminster. It seems like fun. Walking away from that quick little encounter, I have a CD in my hand of one Nick Howe. I’ll definitely be having a listen later.

When I get back to my new friends at the front, they’re making plans to move on out. Before they do, I get a hugely enthusiastic goodbye from Jill and Peter. They ask for any contact details and I give them both cards. During all this, Jill says to me that her cousin told her, “You have to get me that guy’s number.” I tell her she has it on the card and that he can call me anytime.

Things are winding down now but there’s still not a seat or stool to be had. Among all this, a girl comes over and asks if she can take the one stool next to me. I say she can then look up to recognise one of the singers from Troy bar. I tell her I’ve seen her there before and she says, “Oh yes. I’ve seen you play there too.” She’s only just arrived here now though. She’s one of the more well known singers at Troy and often gets up a few times, especially at the last song of the night. I get her name as Rosey and she goes off to join her friends. Now dots are starting to connect. I mentioned that I did meet someone at Troy from another jam a while back but that was from a place just round the corner. Tonight we’re in Camden, down the road from where I live and quite a way from Hoxton. With this brief meeting I feel some kind of connection has been made. Not with Rosey but with something else in general.

Not long after, the live show finishes and I just sit back on my own with a pint and watch the people filing out. I lose count of the number of people who wave at me or come and say a quick hello and well done as they walk out. After a while, with not a whole lot of people left around, I see Kez at the back of it all, right at the end. I decide to go over and say hello. When I look up, he’s there walking towards me. Somehow I hadn’t seen him. I tell him I was just about to come and hang out for a little and he tells me he was just on his way to come down and tell me the same. He’s off to the lads’ room so I go up to his table and am shortly joined by some of the other house musicians and one or two other prominent musicians of the evening and I get chatting to them all. Noticing the place is practically empty now, I hear the bouncers call for people to please drink up and head on out. I’d either misunderstood a bar member earlier on when I’d asked what time closing was, or they’d misunderstood me or simply got it wrong. I say this because I still have almost a full pint in front of me so I get to work on that before someone says, “What are you doing?” “Well, we have to get out of here soon, don’t we?” “Oh, don’t worry about that, he says. You’re with us. Do you want to get yourself another before the bar totally closes?” So I do. And then we all get out of the bouncers’ way and onto a decent sized table off to the side. The house band of The Blues Kitchen and a few of the more heavyweight musicians. And me. Yes, it is a very cool hangout. During it all, Dan, the house drummer, takes the time to come and apologise to me for asking me to play fewer notes earlier on. I have no idea why he does this but it is a nice little gesture. When I decide it’s time for me to leave, I get a good, solid goodbye from everyone and Kez walks me over the side exit of the place.

I head out onto the street in a state of euphoria, all but wanting to shout out. It’s cold, I’ve still got my jacket in my backpack and all I have on is a short sleeved shirt. But I don’t care. Neither do I have any thoughts for the night bus. I’m going to walk home, dressed like this and reliving every last second of what just occurred in the past few hours.

On the way, I see Quinns to the left, a late night spot which looks like an old time pub. But they’re a little selective of who they let in this time of night. I’m not thinking of going in at all, but just as I’m about 20 yards away, I think I see Lee walking from the other direction and then going in. So I reach the place and say to the bouncer, “Was that Lee who just went in?” “I think so,” is the reply. Cool. So I decide to head in after all. And indeed there he is. I give him a nudge and he’s surprised and happy to see me there. We get a drink and start chatting enthusiastically about the night while he tells me a little more about his venue, Ladies and Gents and says the management boys are on their way. Then, here they are. I meet the owner, Steve, and a few of the guys and girls who work in the place. As we’re all there getting right into it, I get pulled from behind. I turn round and get a big hug from Carmen, a fantastic female guitarist from The Blues Kitchen who was part of the after hours crowd there. Behind her are about five of those people. I tell Lee I don’t want to be rude but I’ve just been with these guys so I really should go and say hi. To which he says, “Look, they’ve just seen you walk in there for the first time, just arrived in the area, then they come in here and see you hanging out with us. That doesn’t look too bad at all. Go for it.” So now I have two crowds in here and spend the rest of the night going back and forth. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the owner of the place, Vince, was only too happy to take my bass behind the bar. He recognised me a little because he’d seen me in here with Kieran once or twice. Because of that, when it’s time to leave, he brings the bass round and me and him have a little chat for the first time.

As I leave, I just feel a little guilty that Steve, the owner of Ladies And Gents, bought me a drink and I forgot to buy him one back. Oh well. That’s one more excuse to go to Ladies And Gents or for a quick stop off at Quinns one night in the not too distant future.

Day 103

Posted on by Sibylline

Monday January 12

I’m not sure what time I got to bed last night/this morning but it was clearly late. And I’m in work today at 10:30am. I set up the bar and our first customer comes in at just after midday. He orders a steak and a red wine and sits in the restaurant area. Which means I must take everything to him. As I get his wine sorted and make the walk to his table, Dru, the boss comes by. “Last night I was a rock star,” I tell him. “Now I’m taking someone’s wine to them.” “Welcome to the life of just about everyone in London,” he says. Pow!

Later at home, I check out Nick Howe and have a listen to his stuff. It’s good. I mean, like I could become a fan of it good. Go have a look yourself. www.souncloud.com/nickhoweuk

I then find him on Facebook as he invited me to and we have a decent brief chat.

I invite you here  to see his facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/nicholashowefans

It turns out that last year he played over 300 shows in ten countries and among those gigs was a show at Glastonbury. Not bad going at all. I’d kind of already decided to but it’s now cemented. I book next Thursday off work to go to his event in Westminster.

 

Day 104

Tuesday January 13

I’m working in the evening today so I really take advantage of the daytime to get through as much of the songs I need for the Punching Preachers reaudition on Saturday as possible. They’ve given me Australia by the Manics, Land Down Under and Maybe Tomorrow by Stereophonics. And two originals they’re about to start doing and which two members of the band haven’t yet played on either.

Among this, I’ve also got an Omater rehearsal to prepare for on Sunday so I have a run through all her songs as well. I do it all with five half hour sessions on Punching Preachers’ material then a half hour session for Omater.

When I get to work at 5:30, the first thing I do is look at my rota to see how my schedule is going to be for the next few days. What I see stuns me. Fitting all the music bits in, it looks like this.

Tomorrow I have a day off which will be practically my last chance to prepare for the weekend because then this will happen.

Thursday: work from 10:30am till around 1am.

Friday: Work from 12pm till again around 1am. If I can get away at midnight, I’ll go to the Troy jam in Hoxton.

Saturday: 10am to 12pm, reaudition with Punching Preachers in Bethnal Green. Then in at work from 6pm till about 2am.

Sunday: 10am to 1pm, rehearsal with Omater. Work from 1:30pm till 7:30. Then off to The Blues Kitchen jam.

I guess I’m really going to have to make the most of that day off tomorrow.

 

Day 105

Wednesday January 14

I’m going to take you back to New Years eve now. Or one or two days before. Actually, it all starts with the day Radiotrib (Kevin) came to visit way back on November 20. There we were having a nice little lunch at my workplace on my day off and a guy came and gave us a flyer for the New Year’s eve party there. He had to talk to us to be able to tell us the name of the big name comedian they had on that night but who, for contractual reasons, they were unable to put on any publicity material. I can tell you now it was Lee Nelson. We said thankyou very much and that was that.

Over the next few weeks, I started chatting a little bit with that same guy. He hadn’t realised I worked there and one night remembered me from that lunch. His name is Martin Besserman, he’s a comedian and he runs the Thursday night comedy club upstairs in our place. As we got closer to new year, we started to talk about the comedy night for that night a little more. Then, the week before, we managed to have a bit of a longer chat as he was clearing up and I was helping and he asked me where I was from and what had brought me to London. So he gets the thing about why I’m here and asks if I’m any good, if I can jam along with people, if I have a repertoire. That kind of stuff. He gets all the right kind of affirmatives and says. “I’ve got a girl singing that night as well.” I knew nothing about this. “She has a guitarist coming along. Maybe you could bring your bass and play with her. Would you be able to do something?” I tell him I’ll probably have to speak to her and she may well want to at least meet me and have something of a rehearsal or at least see me play but yeah. It could be on the cards. Talking of cards, I give him one of mine and he says he’ll get in touch with her and we can take it from there.

I decided to take this into my own hands and get in touch with her myself. Her name’s Layla Amini. A little history of her goes like this. I don’t know her age now but when she was 21 Simon Cowell signed her to BMG. She subsequently performed on Top Of The Pops, although her website doesn’t say with which song, and then toured with Shaggy. Later, she worked with Britney Spears’ producer Robert Jazayeri. As a result of all this, or maybe not, she was booked to play at the New Year’s Eve party at The Oxford.

Without confirmation though, I tell Martin I’m reluctant to just bring my bass along on the night because it would be a bit presumptuous but he absolutely insists that I do.

But I still want to make contact so I google her, find her website and, through that, send an email introducing myself and mentioning the conversation with Martin. I tell all this to Kieran to see what he thinks Dru will say should I ask him. He reckons it’ll be cool. So I tell Dru who is well up for it as long as most of my work is done at that time. As I’m working in the restaurant that night, I should by clear by midnight and just helping out on the bar by then.

On the night, I introduce myself to Layla, who looks and sounds amazing by the way. And her guitarist, Toby – I don’t get his surname, is sensational and would be just as good a person to meet. She’s really enthusiastic and says Martin’s told her all about me and that we should see how the night goes and later, it could be possible. I must say here, that it’s just because of the possibility that things like this can happen, and connections can be made in this way, that I came to London.

The night is very chaotic. At one point it looks an absolute given that I’m going to play, but in the end it doesn’t happen at all but that’s cool. I say to Dru that it was one of those situations where, if I hadn’t brought the bass, all kinds of possibilities would have opened up which I wouldn’t have been able to jump into. You just never know. So now Layla and her great guitarist have disappeared back into the ether from which they came. Oh well.

Then, around 2am, I just happen to be upstairs in the comedy club with the comedians all milling around when Martin comes up to me with a big red notebook. He doesn’t know whose it is but wants to give it to a member of staff to keep and I’m the one on the spot. It could belong to a comedian who’s left, or it could be Layla’s or Toby’s. I have a quick flick through and it’s definitely a musician’s book. Lyrics, setlists, phone numbers. All that kind of stuff. I conclude it’s Toby’s. I take it downstairs and try to find a place to put it but everything’s a bit chaotic. It could easily just get buffeted about tonight, even if I go and put it in the office. No-one will know it’s there. So I put it in my bag to take home with me and try to find the owner from there.

I’m quite busy for a week after new year but then I get the book and have a good look at it. From the notes in it I can now see that it’s Layla’s. But there are no contact details for her, only random numbers dotted about the place. I call a few to see if I can get a contact for her but get hold of no-one the first few days. Eventually someone tells me to send a message to a facebook music group who may know her. So I do and they come back with a phone number.

Today I call that number. Layla comes on the line and is like, “who’s that?” I can imagine someone in her position can get a weird call from time to time. I don’t really know how to start. “Well, you don’t know me,” I begin, “but I have your red notebook that you left in The Oxford on New Year’s Eve. I’m the bass player.” At this her recognition forces click into high gear. “Oh. Yes. I remember you,” she says. “I was wondering where that was. It’s so cool that you have it. I tell you what. Let’s meet up, I’ll pick up the book and we can have a chat about your bass playing as well. I don’t need a bassist all that much, but sometimes I do. But I may also know other people who would need one from time to time.”

You’ve seen my schedule for the next few days so I tell her I won’t be able to do anything till after the weekend. It’s been over two weeks now so she says there’s no rush. We’ll speak on Monday.

 

Day 107

Friday Jan 16

Had a few drinks in the bar after work last night and ended up getting home about 3am. I’m in today again at 12 and plan on getting up as late as possible to do that. But around 8am, I’m awake. Wide awake and I just have to get up and straight onto the bass to go through the songs for the Punching Preachers tomorrow. I do that and it all feels pretty good. So I’m ready. This is a consolidation session following on from what I did Wednesday when I spent a few hours filling in all the details – all the little licks and tricks and stuff. And finding the key centres for the originals and seeing what I could do there. That done, it’s shower and off to work for a 12 hour shift before hitting the Troy bar tonight. If I can get off that is.

Dru, the boss, knows all about it and has said that if we’re not too busy and there are enough people to do all the things necessary to shut the bar down, I can get off. So my bass is downstairs waiting to be called on.

At 10pm I’m running up the stairs to do something or other and I bump straight into Dru coming the other way. “You said you wanted to get off early tonight, didn’t you?” “Well, yes, but not until 12.” “Look, there’s enough staff on to get everything done. You can get off now if you want.” Result.

Down I go, sign myself off and get the bass upstairs. When I do, I meet one of our very regular customers outside who asks what the hell I have there. I show him and he’s very interested. He’s been telling me for a while now about his blues guitar comings and goings. And he is a very intriguing character full of mad experiences which he lets drop out in trickles every now and again. The first thing he does is ask if I write. I tell him I do. He likes that. Then he tells me he’s hooked up with a drummer of serious pedigree and would I be interested in having a play with them sometime. Why not? This guy’s a great customer, hugely interesting to talk to and spending some time in his world away from the bar could be a cool thing to do. He wants me to come to his table and have a chat but I tell him that I’ve been let go early because I have somewhere to be and it wouldn’t be cool to be hanging out in the bar with everyone working around me so it’s left at some other time. He’s in a lot. That other time will be sooner rather than later.

I get to the Troy bar a good deal earlier than I have for a long time. So early that, for the first time, I’m able to avail of their fantastic chicken curry Caribbean style. Do they have chicken curry there? I don’t know but this one does the business.

In the band’s break before they start the jam, I find myself standing next to Mario, the house drummer and Ruben, the house guitarist. I discover a little about Mario’s history. He’s Lithuanian and came to London six years ago to become a professional drummer. He says it was hard for the first three years but adds that he’s a much better drummer now and there was a language barrier issue. I’ve heard it before from fantastic English speakers who thought, back in their own country, they spoke English well until they got here and discovered they couldn’t understand anyone. But he’s here now and doing it and mixing with the big boys around this place.

The band goes back up and James, the host, announces they’re open for anyone wanting to play. So a little while in, I get up from my seat and start to walk over. He sees me and, almost laughing, shakes his head and with a wave of his hand, dismisses me back to my chair. The whole very friendly gesture quite clearly says, “What the hell are you doing coming to register? Of course you’re down.”

So I chill with my bass all set up in its hard case in no state of preparedness to play at all because I can see he has one or two bassists lined up at the side of the stage and ready to go. Yep. That’s when he calls my name. Balls. I’m nowhere near ready and it’s a little awkward to get everything sorted and up to the stage from here. But I hurredly start getting it all together and that’s when he decides things are taking too long and pulls in one of the other bassists who are there and waiting. Oh well. I continue so at least I’m now ready for as soon as I’m called up. But now I become like that plane that missed its slot to take off. You know what it’s like. Once that’s happened, it’s not like it just goes and takes the next one. It doesn’t work like that. So I just get into what’s going on and finally, James comes up to me and says, “OK. What do you want to play?” Oh bum. I’ve never had to think about that before. That’s a kickstart warning for next week or next time. But right now I have to make a decision on this spot right here. “Superstition,” I say. Simply because that’s the first song that comes into my head that might be someway appropriate and I’ve done it in a jam before. Hmm. He doesn’t seem convinced though. So when I do get up, he asks me to follow what the guitar player’s doing. I don’t know what it is. Tiredness maybe? Other sounds going on? The differences between bass and guitar frequencies? Or just the fact that, around his main riff, he’s hitting some cool other stuff but to me it’s just distracting from the essence of the sequence. Whatever it is, for some reason, I just can’t get it properly. “Just play what he’s playing,” says James. A few times. And he’s getting a little exasperated. So am I. Up there in front of everyone and I’m not quite nailing this part. Eventually I get it so it’s at least some way acceptable and the song kicks off. I think any other time, what I’d already been doing might have worked but James is going to sing this song with us so I think he needs it to sound how he expects it to sound. It is pretty cool though cos this is the first time James has got up to sing on a song I’m playing. If anything, I feel I’ve let him down just a little by having a little difficulty catching onto the guitarline. Now I’ve got it, I don’t do anything flowery or try to figure out any licks, I just concentrate on keeping it solid. It is quite an intricate pattern so it’s actually good exercise just to hit every note as clean and hard as the last.

But we all get into it and it all goes well until the horns come in. They’re great, but because there’s been no singing for a while, it feels like things are developing so I start to jam along to what the horns are doing. Then James is in my ear. “What are you doing?” OK. So he’s planning to sing again and I’m taking it somewhere else. I guess I’ll stop that. Then there’s another little first as me and James start doing a call and answer section. Again, I’ve seen him do that with a few people, especially horn players but never with me. So that’s a fun little piece. When that comes to an end, it’s getting late so he needs to get the house band on to finish off the night, so that’s it. Just the one song for tonight and I really don’t think I brought my A game but I guess there are going to be nights like that.

The houseband does their thing, the lights come on and that’s it for another Friday. But as I’m walking out, I see James, the trombone player from a few weeks ago. Or rather, he sees me. “I’ve got an email I have to send to you,” he says. “I started writing it and just got halfway through so I’ll get it finished and send it. Then he’s off.” Intriguing.

I get home at about 4am to be met by one of my housemates, Gavin. He’s bearing beers and wants to hear how tonight went. He’s got quite fascinated by my little journey and is always keen to hear how things are going. Talking to him over a beer overlooking our part of the London skyline, which includes the Telecom tower and the Centerpoint building, often feels like one of those end of sitcom/comedy drama things where the characters sum up the days events. It’s a nice way to round things off but does mean I now get to bed at 5am.

Tomorrow – or today – I have to leave at 10:30am for the reaudition which begins at 12. So I guess that’s good night. Or good morning.

Day 108

Posted on by Sibylline

Saturday January 17

I get up with no problem at all and head on out to Bethnal Green to hook up again with The Punching Preachers. I arrive at The Vatican Studio about 20 minutes early. The boys are already in their studio and have been since 11am. I decide to leave them to it till the correct time and have a cup of tea and get my arms and hands warmed up. I’ve given them a good working over on the tube here so I feel in decent shape. When the time comes, I knock on the door and Craig opens it and all but pulls me in to meet the boys again. Matt and Mark on guitars and Andrea on drums. First off, it’s the biggest rehearsal room I’ve ever been in. The idea is that you’re on a stage and everything is arranged that way. There’s no standing in a circle like you would expect in an audition. Instead, everyone is facing one wall which is a huge mirror so everyone can see what’s going on. And behind the band, just as on a big stage, there’s a drum riser. Next to that is a double stack bass amp. Easily the biggest thing I’ve ever played through.

Preliminaries over, the first song we’re going to do is Australia. They do it in D. But the band plays half a step down meaning we’re already in Eb. I’d prepared for this and had worked out where various licks and tricks were with the E string tuned down a further half step to the other strings. When I do that, I’m told, “No. It’s D from where we are.” So that actually means C# so another half step down. It’s hardly a difficult change but having what I’ve learnt so ingrained and then having to retune a string suddenly sets my thoughts in motion. But I haven’t got any time to think about it because now we’re playing the song. So instead of thinking about the transition from intro to first verse, my mind is still frantically thinking about the break in the middle and how I’m going to play that now. As a result I totally mess up the first change. But I catch it and the rest of the song goes through fine. We do it again and I catch everything this time.

Then we’re onto Land Down Under. I’ve got this one sorted. The only difference is that at the end, they break it into a complete punk number with the bass playing straight 16ths through the changes. No problem. Only what I’ve only just realised now is that this room really is quite cold. I play through the song fine but when we get to the 16ths, I’m struggling. It could be match fitness because I’ve not played straight 16ths with a band for a while, or, and this is what I think, the cold has got into my right arm and totally undone all the warming up I’d done. I don’t think anyone notices my little struggle over there because I manage it OK. I just know that if this was a gig and the whole thing was to be like this, I’d be in trouble right now. Another run through of that and the band decide it’s time for a break because they’ve been going about an hour and a half by this point. Bloody hell that’s lucky. A chance for me to regroup and adapt to the cold. By that I mean go through warm up again. The massages, the stretches I’ve already done but this time set against the new temperature. And another cup of tea. Which holding onto really does help the hands to get new warmth and so movement.

This break also gives me a chance to talk to the lads for the first time, particularly Mark and Andrea as I have at least hung out and had a pint with Craig and Matt before.

Back into the room and it’s decided another go of Land Down Under is in order. Immediately I feel transformed. Everything is now moving as it should and, when we hit the 16ths, I power through them effortlessly and smoothly. That’s more like it.

I’ll cut to the chase here. I am now a semi professional bass player with a solid paying gig diary with The Punching Preachers. It unfolds like this.

We move through Maybe Tomorrow, quite a simple but effective song and then onto the originals. One of them, Come On Sweetness, has got a very definite bassline which the band love so I have to be very careful with that one although I still have some ideas of my own and there’s also room for interpretation. We do it three times and I don’t think I’ve ever played such a song for the first time with a band and have it come together so quickly and sound like the finished, or almost the finished article. We look at some rhythmic issues at the beginning and at the end but they get quickly resolved and that’s it. The whole band is delighted with how it’s gone. Not looking at me as the new guy coming in, just how everyone has come together on this song, learnt it and then done the business.

We do the other original and it’s pretty much the same result. The only thing is that they ask me to give a bit more definition between the verses and choruses so I can come in bigger. This is essentially because the bassline in both is similar. I achieve this by taking my right hand most of the way to the bridge for the verses, producing a harsh, quiet metallic sound. Then when the chorus comes in, I move over to the middle pickups and the full thunder and power of the bass comes in. No more is said about it. Job done.

We finish about ten minutes early with everyone happy with the day’s work they’ve done. While the boys are settling up with the studio’s management, I talk to Mark again and I’m pleased to hear that, when they first started today, he also struggled with the temperature of the room and found that his fingers weren’t moving properly. I don’t tell him of my early issue but it’s good to know it wasn’t just me.

Once we’re outside, Craig wants to stay back and hang out with Mark and Andrea, leaving me to walk to the underground with Matt.

On the way, Matt asks me about the songs I know in the set and I’m able to show him; before I came, I’d called up the set on the computer and bolded the songs I knew or had at least played at some point. When I show him this now, I see that there are only five songs left of their set list that I don’t know. Of the full repertoire of 64, I know 34 but of the first set of songs they want me to learn, that’s just the five. “OK,” he says. “Can you do backing vocals?” I tell him the truth that my vocals aren’t great but if I’m singing with one or two people at the same time then yes, I can make a contribution. OK. He then tells me they’ll probably need me at some point and that I should make it a priority to start learning the songs I don’t know. Cool. We reach Bethnal Green tube and he goes into the nearby bar to wait for Craig and I go down to head off home.

I’ve been home about 20 minutes when my phone goes. It’s Craig. “How did you feel today went?” he asks. “Yeah. It felt good.” “So you like this band?” “Yes.” “Do you want to be in this band?” Oh. OK. “Yes. Absolutely.” “Right,” he says. “This gig’s yours for the taking. If you show the same work ethic you’ve shown so far, you’ll be absolutely fine. We won’t put you in for our next gig because I don’t think you’ll be ready for that, but you could pencil in early February to start. I reckon with you we would just need one or two rehearsals and then you’d be ready to go.”

Cool. Then it gets a little bit serious as I ask about getting to and from gigs. I don’t have a car but the London transport system is good. I tell him I can get myself anywhere I need for a lift to a gig, or even get myself to a gig. Then after, maybe just a lift to the nearest nightbus. It’s all around the London area. “That’s fine,” he says. “But how you get your amp about, that’s your problem.” Totally fair enough but I’ve thought about this. I tell him that I have an amp but I couldn’t leave it with them because it’s not actually mine. I have it courtesy of Radiotrib – Kevin. A lovely Trace Elliot. I tell Craig that my idea is to buy my own amp and then leave that with the band’s gear that they take to shows. He thinks that’s a good idea but adds, “Mark, leave off for a little while on that. You may decide a few shows in that this isn’t for you or whatever.” He says that he’ll be coming my way for the first few so I’ll be able to bring along the amp I have and get it home and then after that, maybe I could buy my own, which would become the Punching Preachers bass amp which would stay with them. It seems a good solution.

So now I can tell you that their gig diary has a show at least every month between now and the end of November. There’s one a week for certain periods and sometimes two in a weekend. I’m sure more will be coming along. I know a few things about this but I have to be careful what I write about the band now. I’ve always known this. These are my diaries and my experiences but inevitably they were always (hopefully) going to involve the inner workings of a band, rehearsals, politics, backstage. I have no doubt that some of that is going to have to stay where it happens and neither can I betray confidences but I’ve already dealt with that last one with discretion on quite a few occasions. But all those are considerations for another day.

Back to today and I just put down the phone and out comes a gutteral roar. A roar of triumph and maybe a little of relief. A door has opened. I no longer have to just tell people I’ve come to London to become a professional bass player. I can now say I’m in a semi professional band and open to other projects. My words are now backed up with action. It moves the level of the game, and the conversation, up a touch.

Moving onto the practical aspects, rehearsing and playing at this level can only greatly improve my chops which, I’ve seen, need some work. You can practice at home all you want. And go to jam sessions. But even at those, you rarely play for more than ten minutes at a time and even then, not much more. And home playing never reaches the intensity of live playing no matter how much you might try to replicate it. And believe me, I’ve tried. No. You want to be professional and play live then you’ve got to be a professional and play live. No amount of bedroom shedding or part time jamming can substitute that. It can help keep up certain standards and disciplines, but for sheer physicality, playing a full sweaty set has absolutely no substitute.

All that considered, there are now three hours before I have to go to work. I know exactly what I’m going to do with them. A glorious nothing.

If you want to check out The Punching Preachers, here are a few links.
http://www.lemonrock.com/thepunchingpreachers
http://punchingpreachers.wix.com/punching-preachers
https://www.facebook.com/punching.preachers

 

Day 109

Sunday January 18

A handy start to the day today. I’m rehearsing with Omater for three hours from 10am. After working quite late last night and getting out of there about 2am, the rehearsal is about 10 minutes walk away from me on an industrial park in Kentish Town. Its in KT Studios which, I understand, has moved from Denmark Street due to redeveloping going on there. I’m also due in work at 1:30pm so I can do this rehearsal. I’m then due to finish work at 7pm which means I’ll be able to head on out to The Blues Kitchen for the jam there.

For today, Omater is bringing in a new drummer and a new guitarist. I won’t say too much about either of them right now apart from the fact that they both very much know what they’re doing and add a good vibe to the room. Omater’s got our schedule all sorted out. We all had to prepare five songs for today then it’s five songs next week then it’s hopefully start getting out playing live.

We work quite quickly and Omater is very impressed that everyone has turned up fully prepared. She picks a song, we play a recognisable version of it. There follows a discussion of dynamics and stops and all that kind of stuff and we go again. In between, there are some conversations between me and the drummer, then me and the guitarist all while the backing vocalists and Omater are sorting their things out. So when we go again, there is often a lot more meat to what we were doing before. Maybe a third play of a song and then move on. The only thing is the room is quite small so the bass often ends up being big, boomy and at times quite muddy. So, for the purposes of today, I whack the bass right down and the treble right up. This makes me feel a little naked on parts of songs where everyone stops and the bass continues but that just means I have to concentrate on playing super cleanly.

The whole rehearsal has a really positive vibe and the work gets done with no fuss whatsoever. The songs are up tempo, clear structurally and at times maybe even simplified. It will be interesting to see where that leads.

Afterwards, I stay behind after everyone has gone and Omater asks if something’s wrong. “Not wrong, so much,” I say, “But I have to tell you that yesterday I joined a semi professional regularly gigging band.” I’ve not been particularly looking forward to telling her this but there’s only a positive reaction. “Mark, you’re going to be a working musician,” she says totally matter of factly. “That’s generally the kind of person I deal with anyway. It’s just a case of getting dates to match and that’s what I work from. But it is good that you’ve come and been completely up front about it. I’m happy for you. ” Oh. So that’s that sorted then.

I should also say here that the reaction in work to what happened yesterday was brilliant and so it continues today when I go in again. I end up working until 7:30 and then I pick up the bass again and go out to get the bus to Camden for my second Blues Kitchen jam.

Day 109 – part 2

Posted on by Sibylline

I walk in the door and am happy to see that this time nothing’s started although I have still slightly missed the registration deadline of 8pm. But as I head down to the stage area, I see guitarist Alex coming the other way and he greets me with, “Oh hey Mark. I’ll let Ed know you’re here.” I have no idea who Ed is. I actually think I’ve misheard and he’s said Kez. But no. There is indeed an Ed. He’s a drummer and, as far as I can tell, the guy actually who runs the jam. It seems Kez just did it last week while he was away. Apologies to Kez if I’m getting this completely wrong. So I go up and am introduced to Ed who says that yes, there is still space there for me. Cool. I go to settle down and on the way see Kez who, first of all demonstrates that he remembers my name from last week, and then says I should get a good run at it this week. He also says that they’re putting me with people they think I’ll go well with. Wow.

I take a seat on my own and a girl comes and sits almost next to me, just a little in front. I think I recognise her from behind but can’t quite place who it is. About half an hour in, the next group of people starts to get announced. “Can we have Julia on vocals?” That’s when the girl gets up to make her way to the stage and when I get my first good look at her. Bloody hell. That’s the Julia the Hungarian girl who I met a few weeks ago outside Troy Bar after she had blown everyone away by her performance in it. Then the next name’s called up. “Can we have Mark on bass.” OK. Now I’m going to play with her.

I get my stuff organised and get up there and the other musicians are sorting themselves out too. I go and give Julia a nudge and, in front of the whole watching crowd, we have something of a mini reunion. Everyone ready and she calls the first song. A Tina Turner blues number with a quick change – that is, go to the 4 after the first bar then back to the 1 before settling back into the regular 12 bar blues pattern.

It’s two songs with Julia and she has the crowd right where she wants them. She really is good. During this, I demonstrate my professional credentials by just settling into the background and playing the supporting role of the bass player. I remember seeing a guy at Aint Nothing But totally hamming it up and playing all over the place during a rendition of The Thrill Has Gone. Totally inappropriate and exactly what I want to avoid. Julia’s songs and style call for the bass to just settle into the pocket with the drums so that’s exactly what I do.

Julia’s two songs finished and Ed comes up and asks if I won’t mind sticking around for the next change. So I play for two more songs with another set of musicians. Then he asks me to stay again. And again. One of the singer/guitarists who comes up takes a little time to show us all the changes to one of his songs, then says, in the middle of it all, “It’ll be alright. I’ve got Mark on bass behind me.” That’s handy. Through all this, Julia’s sitting down there at the front getting into it all.

When Ed comes up after I think the fourth set I’ve played, he asks for a big round of applause for me because I’ve played for about an hour now. Then he calls Kez up to the stage. But Kez must say or gesture something because Ed says, “Mark’s going to stick around a while longer,” turning to me, “if that’s alright with you?” Absolutely. So I play another couple of sets. After this, Ed comes up and says, “Mark really is going to get a break this time. I think he’s been on for an hour and a half.” So now I do step down and into the very welcome and loving arms of a post jam pint.

Like last week, I speak to a lot of people when I come down. One of them comes up to me and says, “Do you work in The Oxford?” I tell him I do. “I thought so,” he says. “You served me a few weeks ago.” Well, I did figure this kind of thing would be a matter of time. “How did I do?” “Fantastic. All you want when you go out is for the staff to be courteous and give you their time and make you feel like you matter, and you did that.” Brilliant. Thanks for letting me know.

Another notable person is a girl who says, “Do you have students?” Do I have what? This makes no sense to me. We chat back and forth and then I realise she wants me to teach her bass. “How much do you charge?” she asks. Oh balls. I feel right put on the spot now. I stammer, think and then blurt out a ridiculously low hourly rate that has her eyes lighting up. Double balls. I give her a card. If she calls I’m going to have to honour it. We’re getting towards the end of the night now and I go and have a chat with Julia. She loves how tonight went and so do I. She asks if I’ll go and play with her tomorrow at Aint Nothing But on Kingly Street, behind Regent Street. I’d love to. I ask if she can email some songs with keys she sings in and she’s very happy to hear I want to do the preparation. She tells me during this chat that she sang for a while in China and did very well there but decided London was really the place to be. Around this time, Kez comes and joins us and I introduce them to each other. It comes out again that me and Julia are in exactly the same boat. Come to London to become professional musicians, been here around three months and have played pretty much the same jam sessions with similar results. Although, talking with Kez there, I say that my situation is a little less complicated because I just have to find a band or group of musicians to play with whereas a singer kind of has to do the whole thing. To which Kez wholeheartedly agrees. I then suggest that Julia should really be trying to hook up with a producer, again to big agreement from Kez who adds, “You should be using jam sessions to find your musicians or at least to be identifying musicians you would like to work with when the time comes.” It’s all a bit of an insider’s look into playing the scene. Then I tell him about my latest experience and how I think I’ve sold myself a bit too cheaply. He says there was a time he may well have reacted the same in that situation and gives me some more realistic prices I should be charging, including a ‘you going to them’ price and a ‘them coming to you’ price. Fantastic and it’s all taken on. But I’ll still have to honour what I told the girl. But he suggests doing that for two or three lessons and then maybe saying that that was an introductory rate. I’ll see how it goes. She’s going to have to call first. This all concludes with Kez saying that I’m going to have to keep coming back to The Blues Kitchen, adding, “I really thought you’d enjoy playing with some of the people I put you up there with and it seemed to work.” I give him the very much affirmative and he adds, “Mark, you definitely have a presence here now.” Damn!

After all this, I go down to meet Alan, a fantastic yet understated guitarist I met last week and played with tonight. He’s going to a place called The Elephant’s Head. I get directions to it and, when I arrive see it’s a place I’ve been to with Kieran quite a few times. Excellent. I go in and find Alan who’s already with quite the crowd. With them, I hang out for the rest of the night and music doesn’t get mentioned once. What does happen though is that I get chatting to a Spanish guy, in Spanish. When he learns I used to live in Madrid, he starts to tell me about his favourite places. Among them is the bar where he feels most at home in the city and loves dearly. Palentinos. Bloody hell. Not only do I know it but it’s practically at the end of a street I used to live on. I used to walk past it all the time and occasionally went in. For reference, the street I lived on was Calle de la Puebla. His bar is on Calle Pez which Calle Puebla kind of leads to, after a quick right and left turn around a church. He gets his phone out and shows me a picture of it. Yes. That’s the place. And I describe some of the things surrounding it which are out of shot. He’s blown away, announcing, “I could cry right now.” I don’t know when I’ll see him again, but I promise him that the next time I go to Madrid, I’ll get a picture of me at the bar. Well that just about makes his night. Not that ridiculously far from home, but at least in a different culture. With this conversation, he feels like a connection has been made back to his city.

 

Day 110

Monday January 19

Mondays have lost all meaning to me. For a while, as I said, it had shifted for me from a day when you return to work to the first day of the week I had off after a heavy weekend. But since I started working days, I can likely be in Monday morning as Saturday night. So a day off has become a day off and nothing more. Not at all unlike a working musician, I imagine where days just melt into each other with one off every now and then and the concept of a regular weekend ceases to exist, apart from being times when you might be more busy. But then, that’s one of the attractions breaking that nine to five, Monday to Friday. I guess I’ve managed that much so far.

Today I have a day off. It just happens to be Monday. But I was still woken first thing in the afternoon by a call from work asking if I could come in tonight due to a late function room booking. I would have been happy to help out but of course, tonight I’ve agreed to play with Julia in Ain’t Nothing But. With no feeling of guilt whatsoever, I finally get up and turn the computer on to find an email from her containing songs for tonight and the keys they’re in. Brilliant. She’s told me she’s fed up with playing with so called professional musicians who don’t learn the songs. I’ve had my experiences ‘working’ with singers who think, that because their ability is inside them, they don’t have to work. This often extends to not knowing what key they sing a song in, just that they sing it different and then it’s up to the musicians to find out where everything is now.

The jam starts at eight so I get there a little before to give myself the chance to see what’s going on and meet the organiser. There he is. Making his way through the already quite dense crowd towards the stage. Or at least, that must be him because he has a clipboard. He’s a little younger than most jam session organisers I’ve seen. Maybe early to mid 20s. I head into the crowd and catch up with him and ask if he’s taking names to play. He is. I suggest we get through the crowd first but, “no, that’s fine,” he says. “You can tell me now.” Cool. I tell him my name’s, Mark, I’m a bass player and I’d like to play with a singer who’s coming. “Great,” he says. “Just let me know when she’s here.” It’s all done very perfunctorily and matter of fact but I guess that’s just how it has to be when you’re running an open mic night bang in the centre of London; Kingly Street is parallel with Regent Street and close to Oxford Circus underground. I can’t imagine how many people come here from all over the world on holiday and never go again, until maybe the next time they’re in London. So, to the organisers here, your first time out, you’re just another anonymous face in the crowd, not a newcomer to be enthusiastically greeted. Welcome to London. Well, my name’s on the list so I continue through the crowd and have a look around the front of stage area, where all the tables and chairs are, to see if Julia got here before me. She hasn’t. That’s fine. I’ll just sit back and wait for her to turn up. If she’s not there by nine, I’ll let Olly know I’m ready whenever.

While we’d arranged the day and place last night, we hadn’t arranged an actual time so I have no idea when she’ll arrive. She could be working late for all I know. But that gives me a chance to get settled in and just enjoy the music for a while. So I’m right at the back, by the door, having found a nice little corner there so I’m easy to spot for anyone coming in. But after only about 20 minutes, I hear, “Can we have Mark on bass please.” Oh dear. That’s not supposed to be happening. There’s nothing for it but to go and get up there. I get through the crowd relatively quickly, through the open-ish area in front of the stage and then I’m up and ready. Olly, for I now know that’s the name of the organiser, once more tells everyone that the people up on stage have never met before, and there we are. A drummer, bass player and two guitarists, one of whom will sing. We’re in A, the guitarist announces it’s going to be powerful but not too fast, he takes the lead and then the three of us jump in, me and the drummer hitting everything in perfect unison. More than once he looks up and just smiles at this tight little unit we’ve instantly become. During this jam, I realise there are two or three people in the crowd filming whole sections. This is something that I soon see goes on all the time. Clearly the central London/tourist vibe.

We do our two songs and Olly comes up. “Mark’s going to stay,” he announces as me and the drummer are having a quick chat in the lull. He says he’s not played like that for a while. I’m not sure what he means but he’s very happy about it and it was really quite fun playing with him. Next to me, the guitarist is wondering where to put his lead, prior to the next guy coming on. He has the bright idea of plugging it into one of the guitars hanging behind us on the stage. “That’s a really cool idea,” I say to him. He nods with a little smile. “Yeah,” I continue. “I wouldn’t have thought to have plugged it into Jimi Hendrix’s old guitar.” Well the guy’s face just falls apart and he doesn’t know whether to snatch the lead out, coax it out gently or leave it for someone else. He gives me a little look, his eyes asking for help, and I just laugh telling him I was only joking. He gives me a little playful dig on the shoulder as he leaves the stage, the lead staying where it is for the next guy to pick up.

During this set, we’re joined by one of the house guitarists who’ll take a supporting role on the other side of the stage while the guy in the middle takes guitar/vocal duties. This set all sounds really lively and energetic but there’s one little problem. The guy on guitar keeps losing the form. When he does, me and the house guy just look at each other behind him and quickly figure out what he’s done. At one point, I do have to shout out across the stage, “Where are we?” It all gets picked up again and I don’t think, at any point, that the singer has any idea of the mild but greatly amused chaos he’s causing.

Olly asks me to stay on after this set, then the next one then the next one. By the time he finally says, “Thankyou very much Mark,” I climb down and check the time. I’ve been up there just under an hour. It doesn’t feel like it was much more than 20 minutes. Maybe I really was on for an hour and a half at the Blues Kitchen last night. I get a lovely reception as I step down, including a huge bear hug from quite a large guy after I’ve helped him carry a round of drinks to his table.

I go to the bar, get a pint and head back to the back of the table area to enjoy the rest of the show having, to be honest, forgotten all about Julia coming. “Hey Mister bass player, come and have a seat.” It’s an invitation from two Americans who have the left hand back corner of this area and the last available seat in the house right in front of them. Thankyou very much. I get a big handshake from both of them as I appreciatively take a seat. In between gaps in the music, I discover they’re long haul pilots who come to this bar whenever they get a layover in London. They say they prefer London blues to New York blues, adding, “we invented the music and we have to come here to see it played properly.” I’m also told that, while they’ve been here a few times before, this is the highest level of talent they’ve seen in one night. And as they tell me that, up gets Alan, the guy I know from The Blues Kitchen. And they tell me they’ve seen him before and he’s one of their favourites.

After a while I make my way to the men’s room and, on the way back, get grabbed from behind. It’s Julia. She made it. “I’ve just finished work,” she says. “I’ve been on my feet for ten hours.” Well, it just so happens I know where there’s a spare seat in this thriving musical metropolis. She also tells me she’s also already spoken to Olly and she’s got a slot and she’s told him she wants me up there as well. So I’m getting back up again. This time as planned.

 

Day 110 – part 2

Posted on by Sibylline

Julia had been planning a guitarist and drummer she’d met to come along but neither could make it so it’s just us with whoever else comes up. Olly calls Julia to the stage and says I’m coming back, calls up a guitarist and drummer, takes a guitar himself to join us and up we go. The other guitarist is there first as Julia hits the stage. He turns round and, as though it’s completely involuntary, like a reflex action, blurts out, “Oh, you’re beautiful.” Julia just smiles and turns to the audience. Now it’s her show. She shouts out, “Are you ready?” or something like that. She’s taking total control of the room now like I’ve seen her do in Troy. Working the crowd up to get them onside before jumping straight into the first song. While that’s going on, I have two guitarists to teach a song to and I’m literally talking to them behind her back. The song we’re doing is Tina Turner’s Proud Mary. I basically show them the chords and tell them to watch me for the changes but there’s also that big lick that finishes the main riff. Balls. They don’t know how that goes. Well, there simply isn’t time to teach them that and I hadn’t figured on being up here with people who didn’t know it although that might have been half an idea. So I basically have to rewrite that part, on the spot, behind a singer who’s about to go into it as she’s working the crowd, and then get my point across to two guitarists in front of everyone. I declare that we won’t do the rundown. Instead of that, I instantly decide it goes C C A C C A. Then every accent just gets hit on the C before we run back up to the D. Got it guys? They have. Good job because, without looking back, Julia starts into the spoken intro. I join in with her expecting the others to just fall in naturally but then the drummer calls out as discretely as he can, ‘wait for me,’ so I stop. He hits out a four count and we’re all in this time, gently behind the vocals. Then it’s a quick 1-2-3-4 and we’re all full on. Once that starts, well, the crowd is just on it, totally responding to Julia’s calls of Rollin – mic out to the crowd and the call comes back.

All through, the two guitarists are looking at me for the changes and I have to be 100 per cent decisive of how they’re going to happen because there simply isn’t time for any second opinions. I get through that fine but another problem has just popped up. Having played for nearly an hour earlier on and not sure whether Julia was going to come or not, I haven’t done any warm down or warm up. What that means is, playing fast sixteenths as we are now, I’m just not prepared for it. My whole lower arm starts cramping up halfway through the song. Not good. Really not good. I power through and it feels as though my fingers are on autopilot, just keeping on going through the motions even though I’m not quite getting the messages to them. Then Julia calls me for a solo. Oh no. I’m barely managing 16ths here and now I’m about to have to go into 32nds. I think I manage it. Everything’s so frantic up there I’m still not really sure. I think my right hand just did it on its own with no help from me at all.

I come out of the solo as quick as I can. Now, having struggled playing 16ths before I’m now having to do it having played eight bars of 32nds. It really doesn’t feel pretty but I hang on as tight as I can.

There’s one more corner to negotiate. This is when Julia starts doing a full on call and response to the rolling part as we near the end. Now, do we hold the chord or make the usual change? We haven’t rehearsed this part. Hell, we haven’t even spoken about any of it apart from the key. The guitarists are looking at me so I have to call it. I call the change but she keeps on working the crowd with the call and response. Oh well. She’s going to have to come with us now. She does. Without missing a beat. With that, we play through to the end of the song and the crowd erupts. It’s the biggest noise they’ve made all night. Julia just takes it in while the rest of us breathe a sigh of relief and I try to get my right arm and hand working again. But the physically hard part is over. The next song is Rock Me Baby which we’re just going to work slow and sultry through a regular 12 part pattern. That one goes off without any of the drama of Proud Mary and we all hold it together really well as Julia does her thing out front. Then we’re done and we all make our way down. When we do, there are quite a few people who are quick to talk to Julia. More than one say she’s been the best thing all night. One guy says he doesn’t even know where in London he is or how his friends knew about this place, in the back streets as it is. He’s just so happy to have found it and to have seen the performance that’s just happened, among everything else he’s discovered tonight.

I myself give Julia a huge congratulations. She’s come here into the heart of London and nailed it. I tell her what I’ve spoken about in here. OK. It was a performance of less than 10 minutes but the amount of time isn’t important. All that matters is that you’re able to get up and do your thing and be seen to do it. She’s happy with that. We hang out and chat for a while with intermittent wellwishers coming up to say hi, and then she has to be off a little early because she doesn’t have the luxury of nightbuses that I have.

After Julia leaves, there’s still plenty of live music to go. This is a four hour jam session. Into it steps a bass player with not particularly great technique but everything he plays is just right and, when something complicated comes up, he still nails it. And he’s up there totally feeling every single note with the best bass faces of the night. He plays the bass like a guitarist. You know, that style where only the index and middle finger seem to be available to the fretboard. Maybe the ring finger at a push. But he doesn’t play like a guitarist playing the bass. His note choices and rhythm are all what a seasoned bassist would play. This lack of technique on the bass is explained a little when he pops up next on the drums where he looks completely comfortable, again feeling every note and beat and showing it.

With my stage partner now gone and our friendly pilots having exited stage left, I have no-one to leave my stuff with. It was safe down the front of the stage for a while but it got a bit crowded down there so I had to take it away. So now I’m standing just off to the side with what must be a look of some kind of concentration on my face. “Are you OK there mate?” It’s the bass player/drummer guy. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m just trying to figure out how I can go get a pint and then get to the toilet with all these bits and pieces I’ve got here.” “You go mate,” he offers. “I’ll take care of this lot.” Not wanting to take advantage, I rush through the procedures and get back, offering to buy him a drink for his troubles. “That’s fine, but bloody hell that was quick.” Thankyou very much. He asks me what my axe is and I say it’s a Washburn. “You get that sound out of a Washburn?” he exclaims, “Man, you’re good.”

Then he’s off. About ten minutes later he’s back and he gives me a little wave from the bar then signals me to join him and take a seat. This time we do proper introductions. I can’t remember why he says he had to come back but this time when I offer to buy him a drink, no, I insist I do, he accepts. I ask him about his bass playing and how much he plays around the place. He playfully asks why. “Well, your technique is really bad but you play really well. What’s that all about?” “Oh, you’re talking about the left hand thing. Yeah. That’s been said to me before. But I’m not really a bassist.” “So you’re a drummer then?” “Well, not really that either.” He explains that his problem is that he’s too verstatile so people find it hard to pin him down to one instrument and he talks vaguely about this or that tour he’s been on, including a jazz tour. “But you,” he says, “You are a bass player.” “Yes I am.” Well, I can’t disagree can I? He asks how much I play and I tell him a little about what I’m doing and the advice comes back. “Play every jam session you can. But also, find one that works and pay special attention to that one.” The first part, check. As for the second part, I’m really feeling The Blues Kitchen.

“What style do you specialise in?” he asks. “I mean, where are you really comfortable?” I blurt out The Blues which is totally not true but it’s the first thing I can think of, probably because of The Blues Kitchen and probably because I’ve just played around two and a half hours of it in these last two sessions. I then say rock before adding, “Pop. I really like and feel comfortable playing pop.” Then I tell him about my hitjam practice concept where I just put on the top 40 and try to play along instantly to the songs. He really likes it and says he keeps on top of what’s happening by DJing.

“Will I be seeing you around much?” he asks. “As and when work allows,” I tell him, explaining what I’m doing for work and how I manage to fit the jam sessions in. Then he starts to tell me about a few jam sessions I’ve not heard of. Not only that, but he tells me a few hangout places for musicians and in areas you would never think of, including one walking distance from me in quite an unfashionable area. From all the people I’ve been speaking to and the internet searching I’ve done, I’ve not heard of a single place he’s telling me about. Now, I may well be getting ahead of myself here or totally misreading things, but it really feels like a little door is being opened and I’m being invited in. When I’m going to get to some of these places I don’t know but my new friend here seems confident I’ll find them and we’ll meet again. “I’ll see you around,” he says as the night winds to a close we both prepare to leave. No contact details are exchanged and I don’t even consider giving him a card. I’m sure we will be meeting again. Either that or I’ll meet someone who knows him.

 

Day 111

Posted on by Sibylline

Tuesday, January 20

Before work today, I essentially just work on Punching Preacher songs. I have two rehearsals slated with them before my possible first gig and that means 32 songs to either learn or relearn including keeping up to speed on the songs I learnt for the last time I played with them. And it’s not just learning a song. It’s learning a song, going through three or four others and coming back to what you played three new songs ago and seeing if you can still remember that. In all that, there are a few mini transcription projects with licks and the like. But as for most of that, unless it’s an integral lick in a song, I’m just going with my own feel. Find the key centre and from there discover what notes are available for licks through the modes and chords within that key. But mostly, just getting the structures and the stops and starts right. Even with that there’s a lot to learn. And yes, a good percentage of the songs I’ve played in other bands but some of that was over six years ago which is incredible to think about but it’s true.

There’s also a lot of repetition going on through this process because the more you repeat a song, the more it comes automatically. It’s so easy to learn a song, go, ‘Oh, I know it,’ then turn up at the rehearsal and you just can’t remember the first note and it all falls down from there. With songs I’ve played a certain amount of times, I’ve been up on stage, forgotten what the next change is only to find that my fingers have just gone to it. I’m not saying I’m going to get that comfortable with the set in the next few days but I’ve got to do what I can. And that sometimes means having to forget how many more songs I’ve got to learn. All I can do is pull up the next one and get to work on it. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.

 

Day 112

Wednesday, January 21

You read yesterday’s entry right? Well today’s is the same.

 

Day 113

Thursday, January 22

Today marks the first time I can remember, apart from Christmas, when I get two days off in a row. It’s also the night of Nick Howe’s show which means, since I got to London, my first night out in the centre of this fine city – not counting when I lived here before of course. As for my plans for today, they involve doing as much of nothing as possible. Time to catch up on some downtime I think. At least until it’s time to head on out.

The venue is The Plaza Hotel next to Westminster Bridge, practically opposite the London Eye. The invite said to dress smart so shirt and suit jacket it is, but no tie. Apart from rare exceptions, I simply don’t do ties. The show, as far as I understand it, is going to be Nick and his singer songwriter friends. It’s a chance for me to maybe network with a few up and coming London songwriters or, at the very least, be seen at a show and also see what’s going on with these guys. What their bands are like, how they compare to songwriters I’ve known in the past and so on. This is a big part of what Kieran’s been saying I should be doing. Going to shows. Getting to be known on the live scene. I know in Ireland, that was how everything happened. Yeah sure there’d be adverts going on but if you were on the scene going to gigs you got to know everyone and everyone knew you. Everyone knew what the bands were up to, who all the musicians were and what their availability or head turning position was. Of course that was on a vastly smaller scale and I had a leg up as local media person. Conflicted interests? You could say that and I wouldn’t argue but getting myself right into the music industry was a big part of my motivation for becoming a journalist in the first place, or was by the time I first broke into it at least.

With work, jam sessions, rehearsals and, hopefully, gigs, not to mention needing a night totally off now and then, I’m not sure how many shows I’m going to be able to go to, to get myself known in that way but when I can, I’ll go. Tonight, I can. In an interesting diversion before all this, I get a call from my cousin saying he’s in town for a few days with his wife and three year old daughter on something of a mini break. Would I be up for meeting tomorrow? Brilliant. Day off. Cousin in town. Job done. His name is Phil and he’s at least 15 years younger than me but we’ve always got on great right back to when he was very young.

As for the show tonight, yes it is smart, smart, smart. I’ll give you an idea. While I’m hanging out at the bar, I overhear some guy is telling his friend about how he and his mates blew £1,500 on a night out recently. In one bar. Literally way above my paygrade.

Now, before a show really isn’t the time to meet performers. They’re focused on what’s going on and I know I don’t always like to talk that much. Sure, if I’m introduced to someone I’ll be polite but I’ll totally forget all about them the instant the encounter’s over. So I’m not expecting to meet too many people early on. Nick swings by to say hi but it’s clear his mind is very much elsewhere. He’s happy I’ve come though and, like I said, I’ve now been seen to come, so that’s cool. The opening act is an acoustic singer/songwriter complete with a loop pedal which he uses well enough. He has a hard job though. This is a hotel bar. It’s free in. It’s quickly clear that there are a fair amount of hotel guests here and they’re just chatting away to themselves. It’s a famous tough London crowd. Not in that they’re intimidating or heckling or anything. Just hard to impress and get to be quiet. At one point he tries to come out into the audience to do an unamplified number but it’s clear the talking isn’t going to stop enough for him to be able to do that. So he good naturedly goes back to the stage and continues his set.

I won’t go through all the perfomers although there is singer/songwriter Dana McKeon who is introduced as having come fifth in the world beatboxing championships and she gets the crowd’s attention. Even my two friends with the £1,500 bar bill. And when she gets up with Nick during his show, it’s the highlight of the night. And yes, all the acts were polished and professional but for me, Nick’s show was just an extra level above and he’s the only performer all night who’s really able to fully engage this tough crowd. It shows I’m not yet completely wrong in having marked him as someone to watch out for. If everyone had been at or above the level then I’d clearly underestimated the scene. But that may yet still prove to be the case. Having a glimpse at what the level of talent is like at this level in London is definitely an interesting experience. Higher than what I was a part of in Ireland? I don’t necessarily think so but there is certainly a little more polish and a little more stagecraft. And, I would say, a little more overt ambition, purpose and urgency. It’s certainly a good introduction to the playing field.

When it’s all over, I hang around a little but the performers are all over the place and have some secret room they’re hanging out in and Nick’s also disappeared so I decide to forgo some introductions for tonight. It’s been a good night and it’s time to get off home. Then, there’s Nick in the carpark as I leave the hotel. “Thankyou very much for coming Mark, really appreciated.” A decent way to close it out. Now for home.

 

Day 114

Friday, January 23

I get an email from Julia today asking if I’m out at Troy tonight and saying she’s got some musicians heading down there with her. Damn. It sounds good but I’m with Phil and his family today. I might still make it tonight but I’m not going to bale out on him to go. So after last night’s night out in London I have my first day out in London city centre since I got here. Not counting my little jaunt round it while I was waiting for Monica to finish work.

I won’t go into too many details but we do indeed have a lovely time walking round various parts of the city after meeting in Leicester Square. Him, daughter Lexie and lovely wife Hayley. There’s one thing though. I get the tube to Charing Cross which is practically Trafalgar Square. I used to go from here to work through Leicester Square and Picadilly Circus all the time. From a certain point of Trafalgar Square you can actually see the Swiss clock in Leicester Square. Today I manage to take a wrong turning and get lost and have to ask for directions. The very well dressed man who points me in the right direction says, ‘Enjoy,’ like I’m a wayward tourist. It’s London and nobody cares so I don’t correct him that a) I live here and b) Leicester Square is just a meeting point. But it is a little bit irksome. Oh well. I suppose I deserve it. Even moreso when Phil calls me. “Where are you?” I’d told him I’d be two minutes. So I have to tell him what’s happened which makes him chuckle quite uncharitably.

All met, lunch happens, followed by an extended and squirrel accompanied walkabout – I told you his daughter’s three – and then back to their hotel. Like me, Phil’s a Manchester United fan and, on this day off of mine, they happen to be playing in the FA Cup. Cambridge – in the lower reaches of English football. Hardly one to get the heart racing but I still get to see a United game. With Phil. In central London. Bizarre. It’s 0-0 and the less said about that the better. When it’s time to go, I ask if he fancies coming out with me for a while. We could go to Camden and hang out. Maybe visit The Blues Kitchen. But with a three year old, he can’t really head out with me after once it’s time to get back.

I’ve had a few drinks with him and it’s getting on so running home to grab the bass and heading off to Troy really isn’t on the cards. Instead I decide it’s finally time to pay a visit to Ladies And Gents, that underground little cocktail bar near me where Lee is the bouncer. I discover it’s actually called All The Small Things but I like Ladies And Gents as a name.

I have a little chat with Lee and then head downstairs where I immediately run into Steve who runs the place. He welcomes me in like an old friend and I soon realise he has this charming way with everyone he speaks to. It really is quite a special looking tiny place. And it really is tiny although there is a round the corner bit you don’t see when entering which makes it just a touch bigger. It’s almost 1930s in style or at least has the feeling of those dark, small clubs you see in the movies. And it has a bar menu. All cocktails, although you can buy a bottle of beer with a whiskey on the side for £9. I almost go this route before deciding to be adventurous and go down cocktail alley ordering a hot buttered rum from Frasier who I also met at the after hours bar a few weeks ago with Lee. Leah’s there too so I have a few friendly faces around. I couldn’t tell you what’s in the hot buttered rum but it comes in a teacup on a saucer. And I don’t feel mildly strange or self conscious drinking it. It’s also nice that, around the place, one or two people see me alone and tip their glasses to me. It really is quite a spectacular drink and I’ll be going back to it and recommend you to it right now.

When he gets a minute now and then, Steve comes over and says hi and I congratulate him on the place. He sums up a huge part of its attraction. “Everyone thinks this is their little London secret.” Well, it’s not their little London secret. It’s mine. And I’m not going to tell anyone about it.

Doh!

 

Day 115

Saturday, January 24

I’m not in work till 6pm today but, despite yesterday’s activities, I think I’m still in some sort of recovery mode. I don’t even go out to see the football. However, I do decide to see what I can find on the internet of Julia and come across this which is an appearance on some kind of Chinese X Factor: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoDLdNGBBhk

 

Day 116

Sunday, January 25

I got in from work at about 2am this morning then it’s a 10am to 12:45 rehearsal with Omater before heading straight into work for 1pm until about 11 tonight.

There isn’t too much to say about the rehearsal really. We’re going through 10 original songs right now working up some decent versions. However, there is a little nod to less is more. We’re in a new room and, although we’re not playing ridiculously loud, it’s not until everything gets turned right down that we can really hear what’s going on and we can start to appreciate the intricacies of what we’re doing. I must say, I’m not a huge fan of this room; so many things seem boomy and close in here but maybe that’s just us getting used to it. But it is just 10 minutes’ walk from home and the same distance from work which is more than a little handy.

 

Day 117

Monday, January 26

The Punching Preachers have a gig tonight but I’m working so can’t go. But I’m not sure it would be a good idea anyway as I don’t know the situation. Have they told their current bass player of the situation? I’m really not sure so I think, until I know the situation there it’s probably best I don’t go anyway.

 

Day 118

Tuesday January 27

The London Bass Show is on the horizon. Being in Madrid with somewhat limited funds, I missed this last year although for a little while before, I did harbour small hopes that I might be able to make it but no. Seeing a load of SBL guys there and the main guys, Scott and Geoff, not to mention close encounters with some superstar bassists did make me massively jealous of all the people who were able to make it. I didn’t make any vow or anything to myself that I’d get there this year but of course I hoped I would. But then neither was I thinking, at that point, that London would be playing any part in my near to mid term future. Well, here I am.

Not only that but today, Radiotrib – Kevin – pops up having bought a ticket and now not able to go. “Does anyone want to take it off my hands?” is his shoutout. I answer and a short time later my phone rings. There he is. I ask for his bank details and he simply says, “Forget about that. Buy me a pint next time.” Alright. I’ll buy you two. Whatchya gonna do about that?

Not only that but, having seen that I now have a pro band in the works, he makes the offer that I wasn’t even thinking of asking about, saying I can leave the amp with the band. “They’re a professional bunch. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” he says. Wow. So now I don’t have to buy a new amp to gig with them which was completely on the cards. We chat for about 15 to 20 minutes covering all manner of things and then he says he’ll be back in London in the not too distant future and will be able to make it down to The Blues Kitchen for the Sunday night jam session. Brilliant.

He interestingly tells me that when I first started the diaries, back on The Costa Blanca, he was reading them then thinking, “This guy is five years too late.” Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the thriving musical metropolis it had been five years earlier but there were still plenty of professional bands around but, a reminder, certainly not in Benidorm which had originally been my first choice of destination. Practically nothing there but backing tracks and guitar duos. While I have a mostly positive take on the experience and it did directly lead to the London move, I won’t relive it here. But I will say that the five year thing is interesting because the crash essentially happened at the end of 2008 so that would make sense.

Apart from all that, just stoked that I’ve got a ticket for the Bass Show and that Kevin’s coming back down to the hood and there’ll be bassage involved this time.

Day 120

Posted on by Sibylline

Thursday, January 29

Today is the first of two rehearsals with The Punching Preachers before my first show with them on Saturday February 7.

Today I essentially play bass for nearly five hours which is made up of two hours final preparation and then a nearly three hour rehearsal. But first I have to get there. I first really appreciated how big London really is when I once read Bill Bryson’s first impressions of the place. “Gee, London’s big.” When an American says something like that, you really should take notice. Around the same time I remember reading an article in the Evening Standard welcoming students to the city. “You are not,” it said, “coming to a city. You are coming to a new country.” And to bring us right up to date, a few weeks ago, someone asked me how many countries there were in the UK. Five, I said. “Name them.” “OK. England, northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales and London.” This received a very appreciative nod and smile. For those of you out side the UK with little working knowledge of the place, here are some figures. The population of the whole of Great Britain is just over 60 million people. The population of London is just over 8 million. That means that nearly eight per cent of the whole of Great Britain’s population is in London. The second largest city in the UK is Birmingham with a population of just over one million. Very simple maths. It is an eighth the size of London. Why am I telling you all this? Because when you join a band round here, the rehearsal room is unlikely to be on your next road. Which puts into perspective how lucky I am with the Omater situation. Of all the rehearsal studios in all the city…

The venue of choice for tonight will be the third place I’ve played with The Punching Preachers. The audition was held near Denmark Street in central London. I walked to it. The reaudition was in Bethnal Green. Took me about 45 minutes. I can’t really see a simple way to get to this latest place, Mill Hill. The map tells me Burnt Oak is the nearest tube station so I make that my destination. But even with it being on my own Northern Line, I still have to take two trains to get there. When I arrive, I get a real idea of how far I still am from the studio. About two kilometres. Possibly more. So now I have to get on a bus. When the bus reaches the end of this long avenue and turns left, I know I have to get off to go the other way. So I do that and walk under a bridge which happens to hold the M1. The studio, I know from the map I studied before I set off, is on the left on the other side of the M1. An interesting little thing and I do consider it greatly as I pass under the bridge. The M1 is the great artery motorway of the UK. The 1 probably offers a clue. It was the UK’s first intercity motorway. Just a bit of trivia. At the beginning it had no speed limit, no central reservation, no crash barriers and no lighting. It’s nearly 200 miles long – over 300km – and goes directly from south to north connecting London with Leeds. The point under which I’m passing is less than two miles from its starting point. It’s a long way to Leeds.

Past that little landmark and I do indeed see the studio which is a bit of a relief. I’m there quite early so get the bass out and do a few last minute checks for changes then sit back and read my current book – Berlin: The Downfall by Anthony Beevor if you’re interested. I used to live there too, straddling the pre and post wall period so there’s an interesting juxtaposition at place here right now.

When the lads arrive, I ask how the gig went and, especially, how the originals were received. Very well and very well is the comeback with one original getting a better reaction than the other, although the latter was placed towards the end of the set which they say they’ll rethink next time. I point out that a quieter reaction at that time of night to an original shouldn’t be worried about too much. “Even Bon Jovi only play the hits in the later parts of their set. Well, everyone does really.” And this is acknowledged. “Yeah, at that time of night, people do just want the hits.”

There are two things I can say to that, apart from the fact that yeah, towards the end of the night, people just want the hits. The first is this. I was there, at Donnington 1991. This was just four days after Metallica released the Black Album, or Metallica Metallica as some of us called it. The album that pushed them from one of the heads of the thrash scene to the undisputed heavyweights of, well just about everything really it seemed. And they’ve kept that momentum ever since. Anyway, with the album only just out, they kept new songs to a minimum that day. Remember, this was all way way pre internet and pre Lars Ulrich’s best friends, Napster. They played Enter Sandman, which had been released as a single and was already a smash among Metallica fans and many beyond – a small clue as to what was to come. But the only other song they played from the album was Sad But True. Now, this remains a classic and was a metal club floor filler for as long as I can remember after. But on the day? Really didn’t go down too well. Jason Newsted did that see-saw thing with his hands as if to say, “You guys aren’t too sure about that one are you?” And as you’ll see below, James Hetfield says, “Seems like we’re getting a little flat.” I wonder if that’s why they did Master Of Puppets straight away. Just a little lesson in originals. Even the big boys don’t always get the reaction from the big ones.

Check it out. I’ll suggest from 35:20 just as the song ends.

Then there’s this, from the great TV comedy sketch show, Big Train. It’s really not far from the Truth. After all, comedian James Spade once said he went to see Lynyrd Skynyrd and decided every other song should just be called “Not Freebird”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1YNEtaHbzA

Once I’ve added my tuppence to their original playing experience, I then explain how, even if I hadn’t been working that I might not have gone along, not knowing how things were with the current bassist. To this, I’m told there would have been no problem at all. As was explained to me in the beginning, the previous bassist was still happy to be available as a dep so he was covering. Would have been interesting to have met him and had a chat about things especially at this early stage but, like I said, I couldn’t have gone anyway.

Getting started, my main concern is dealing with the physicality after my last experiences. But I’m more prepared this time. More warmed up and I’ve also done more fast picking stamina practice since that last session. There are still a few difficult spots but I find I’m adapting quicker tonight. But then another issue raises its head. I’ve not been practicing any of these songs standing up which means I’m not seeing things as well as I normally would and which also causes more difficulty than should be the case on some faster passages. The one phrase that keeps running through my mind is, ‘Rookie mistake.’ I’m still able to play everything and it’s fine, it just doesn’t feel as free or fluid as I’m used to. Well that’s one thing I know I’ve got to look at between now and the next session.

Then we get to Jeff Beck’s American Girl. This is one song I’ve worked most on because the different sections are so similar. The middle section. I just go a complete blank on it and we have to stop. I go through the chords with Mark and Matt, the guitarists, and then pay close attention to Mark, who’s standing next to me to my left, and just about manage to get through it. There are a lot of flowery little bass parts that I’ve been working on for this song too, but some of them just don’t feel right in this setting for some reason so I just put my head down and aim for the basics of the song. “You really want to nail American Girl,” says Craig when we’re done. “That goes down really well.” OK. Back to school with that too. I try not to beat myself up too much. I mean, this is a lot to remember after such a short space of time. The band also throws U2’s Vertigo at me, a song I used to play in a band over six years ago. I tell them I’ll give it a go and I do manage to get through it OK. There’s just one difference to how they want me to rhythmically play the chorus. No biggie. It’s different to how Adam Clayton plays it and to how I used to play it. This is what playing covers can be all about. Adapting them to the band. That and coming up with endings to songs that fade out. There’s one more song I have a little trouble with – Rival Sons’ Keep On Swinging. It’s a simple enough song but there’s a little bass part in the middle that I haven’t quite got solid rhythmically. This song was only on the reserve list so I was messing about with it but figured I should learn the rest of the set and come back to it. I didn’t get back to it and that’s what happened.

The first half of rehearsal over, we take a break, have a cup of tea and then get going with the second half. I’m much more comfortable here and actually start to enjoy it for the first time, having been so concentrated and a little on edge in the first half. When we finish our version of Land Down Under in which I power through the fast 16ths with no problem at all, the end of the session is called. “What? Already?” is my thought. Yes. I’ve just got lost in it and time has just disappeared. Literally. 

For the whole thing, I think I’ll give myself a 7 and a half out of ten although there was that second part rally. But that aside, would they confidently play a gig with me tomorrow? Probably not. I wouldn’t either. But there’s still Tuesday to come and then a few more days to really tighten myself up.

Now to get back. I tell them of my mini journey here and I hear it should be simple to get here from Kentish Town on the overground rail. Well, I had checked that out on my tube map which includes overground and there didn’t seem to be a route. “You need to get something better than that,” says Craig. There’s surely an easier way for you to get here.” But for now, to save me the whole return journey, he offers me a lift to Bounds Green tube from where I can get home. The first thing he says in his van is, “Well done. We can see you’ve really put your work in.” I’ll take that. We do talk a little about American Girl but he seems satisfied that I just had a block on a song I’d worked quite hard with.

Once we get to Bounds Green and he drops me off, I have no idea where I am, or even what line this is. It turns out we’re up in North West London not a great deal away from Kentish Town, but unless I want to put myself at the mercy of the buses at this time of night, I have to stay on the Tube network. That means going right into central London and changing at Leicester Square to then get the Northern line home. The lads are right. There has to be an easier way than this.

 

Day 121

Friday, January 30

They’ve started putting rotas up in work that go beyond the following week so I can get a decent heads up on where I am now. I go check it tonight. With all the days off I’ve requested for gigs and rehearsals, I haven’t got as many shifts there as I’ve been having. I knew that would be the case but I can now see very clearly that I’m going to have to start making this pay at least something very soon to at least make up for all I’m going to be missing at the bar. I guess this is the tricky period. That in-between when you’ve got to take the time off for music but you need to be working that time to pay the bills. Now, if taking time off for music means music is paying the bills, we’re all well and good. But if it’s not, you start to hit problem territory. I made this challenge for myself. Now it’s throwing itself down in front of me.

 

Day 122

Saturday, January 31

I’ve been having a real problem in my shed recently. The weather’s been getting a little cold and that’s brought into sharper focus the fact that the window to my room, and therefore shed, has not been very well insulated. I’m on the fourth floor and have quite a decent view as I’ve mentioned before. But what this also means is that when the cold wind comes in, I have little protection. My curtains twitch and twist ever so slightly but that means wind coming inside and that ain’t good. It’s cold even when the radiator’s on full and has been playing total havoc with my concentration. At times it’s made shed sessions real chores with cold hands not moving as they should and my concentration really not switched on at all. And this has even happened in sessions of just going through songs I know for the band. If you’re losing your concentration and not enjoying that, what chance do you have when the real stuff begins? Perhaps luckily, because I’ve been doing so much song learning and audition/rehearsal preparation, I’ve not been studying a lot of the really gritty stuff but this really has to stop.

Yesterday, after barely being able to sleep due to the cold on Thursday night, I finally did something about it and went out and brought some insulation tape. Three rolls. I used a full two on my two windows. The rise in temperature was almost instantaneous.

While I’m at work tonight, for the first time in quite a while, I get a real itching to play bass. Just play. This has been an almost forgotten sensation lately and is hugely welcome but is also frustrating at the same time because I can’t do it. But that in turn feeds the exhilaration I feel purely because that fire has returned. And why? Because I know I’ve got a comfortable place in which to do it again where I can just enjoy it and concentrate. At least, that’s the only explanation I can think of. But it’s Saturday night and there’s going to be no getting out of here early tonight.

But then, inexplicably, we have a real quiet night. So quiet that, at around 10pm with two of us in the restaurant area, it’s announced that one of us can go home. Rosey, my partner for tonight says she’s quite happy to stay. Oh thankyou thankyou. Not only that but I’ve started feeling a slight issue with the big toe on my right foot lately and it’s been a bit of a pain tonight, literally. This is a job with a lot of walking involved. Foot issues really aren’t welcome.

But I’m not thinking about that right now. Somehow I’ve got out early on a Saturday night. I go home, pick up the bass, dig out the songs for Punching Preachers and, for the first time in a while, discover the real joy of playing the bass again.

 

 

 

Day 123

Posted on by Sibylline

Sunday, February 1

If you’re eating and reading, it’s time to stop doing one of them for a few minutes.

Oh dear. Toe really hurting before work today. All red and not very nice things coming out of it. I won’t go into too much detail. You get the picture. Just touching the tip of it feels like I’m digging a needle in and the same goes for part of the inside. How the hell am I going to get a shoe and sock on this, never mind go to work and walk on it for six hours. It’s been hurting a little for a few weeks now but it’s only yesterday it really started to come to a head – literally. And now it feels like it might explode. Again, literally.

I leave at a decent time to discover I can’t walk at any speed at all and arrive a few minutes late. But we’re all good although I do feel I should tell Loren, the assistant manager I’m a tad late because I’ve got a bit of an issue going on. Throughout the day I manage but every step on my right foot causes a jolt of sharp pain. For the full six hours. With an hour to go, all I want to do is stop and grab a good shot of whiskey or something like it. Loren is quite concerned which is nice and asks a few times how it is. Hurts. Driving me crazy is the answer. By the end of it all she’s telling me about a health centre near me where I can get an emergency appointment. I’ve got to tell them that I’m in danger of not being able to work. It’s just by The Abbey apparently, the next pub south of The Oxford and a place I know quite well. OK. I’ll think about it.

As for the whiskey shot, the handy thing is, it’s the staff Christmas party tonight – you know, in this industry you work all over Christmas so it happens now. So as soon as I finish it’s shots all round. This isn’t just a party for our staff but for the staff of every pub in the company in London. We’re going to a bar right in the financial centre of London for it. Just off Threadneedle Street between Monument and The London Wall. After another drink we pile into a couple of taxis. By the time we arrive, I’m feeling better and head in to the party to see a few people I know from other bars around our area. And meet their friends. For one, this all helps with being recognised next time for the staff discount; they come to our bar and get looked after, we go to their bar and the circle continues.

I don’t dance or do anything too strenuous but I’m walking about comfortably enough. A whole bunch of free drinks all night might just be having something to do with that. When I think it’s time to go, I can’t find any of our lot to say goodbye to; I’ve generally been mingling about the place. Oh well. I’ll just head off then. Just as I reach the door, Kieran appears from nowhere. “You’re not leaving are you?” Well, maybe one more. The crowd has thinned considerably and there’s a bit more room to move about now. So we go and get one more then I think it really is time to leave now, this time with real goodbyes.

It’s not long after 11:30 so I’m comfortably in time for the Tube. Down I go, into Bank. It’s closed. Oh. I walk to the next one. Can’t remember which one it is. Closed. Bugger. So now I’m in the centre of London, no idea where I can get a nightbus or what direction home is, it’s minus 1 and all I’m wearing is a shirt and a suit jacket. After quite a while of semi aimless wandering during which I find myself in the vicinity of a few famous skyline buildings including The Natwest Building, I start to steel myself for an uncomfortable night. At best, a four kilometre walk home once I get oriented which could take a while. Right now I’m just walking aimlessly through deserted streets. This being the financial district, it’s not a place people generally come to at night. Everything’s shut and no-one lives here. I also know at some point the foot pain’s going to kick in again and I’m just going to get slower and slower. I’m already starting to feel some muscle pain up in the lower leg region from overcompensating all day and then tonight. That was giving me real trouble in the restaurant earlier and is starting to be a complaining bitch again. No. This really isn’t going to be a fun night. Oh bloody hell. Why did Kieran have to appear when he did? I would have been out, on the tube and home by now. This becomes a recurring theme as I continue to trudge the cold empty streets, not caring in the slightest about famousy landmarky buidings now. I even get my closest ever look at The Gherkin but I just couldn’t care less. Alright. That’s a minor lie. I do stop and have a look for a few moments but only out of obligation.

Half an hour, maybe more, maybe less has passed and I’m now still walking aimlessly but now quite coldly and rather limpily. And I could be going further from home with every step for all I know. There’s as yet no way of telling. I’m still internally asking, no, demanding, to know why I didn’t leave when I first intended to. I’m still unhappily contemplating the next few hours ahead when a bus passes me. Not only that but it stops right in front of me. Not only that but it’s the 214. This goes right to the end of my street. Or will if it’s going in the right direction. Oh please be going in the right direction. I’m not sure how much I dare to hope as I catch up with the front door and somewhat wide eyedly ask the driver if this is going to Kentish Town. He nods. It is. Bloody hell. Two seconds later I’m sitting on a warm bus and on the way home.

I tell Jenn in Madrid about this the next day, and the fact that it was after our staff party. She tells me it was my very own Christmas miracle. Yes. I believe it was.