Day 124

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Monday February 2

Mercifully I have a day off today so can rest the foot which I very much do after getting up quite disgustingly late. The only thing on the agenda is a three hour rehearsal with Omater tonight. I limp along to that and find she’s recruited a new guitarist called Matteo. It’s going to be just him, me, Omater and the drummer tonight. We go into the first song and immediately there’s a really nice feeling in the room. Damn he’s good. Really understated with great rhythms and a decent volume that means everything can be heard clearly. We bounce off each other nicely too and he’s confident and experienced enough to pitch in a few new ideas for the songs which we try and which work. Nothing too radical, just a touch and a tweak here. We just play a D minor? Why not throw in a C? Simple stuff like that which lifts quite a few moments.

Me and the drummer Pawel take the opportunity for this stripped down rehearsal to try a few things between us to tighten up some parts as well. We all really get into it and Matteo devises a lovely opening riff to a song which I jump on and glide over, holding and improvising to go with the first verse. So much of today’s rehearsal is like this, full of really cool improvised moments. And when we’ve gone through the songs Matteo knows, I show him a few others and he’s away on them too.

We leave feeling quite good about how today’s gone.

I limp home. But as I continue, walking does get better and easier. If it continues to be better tomorrow, I’ll be fine.

Day 125

Tuesday February 3

I have another day off today so more much needed rest. The toe still hurts but it does seem to be improving so I see no need to go check out the health centre. I mean, I was contemplating walking home from central London last night. How bad can it really be?

Besides, I have a three hour Punching Preachers rehearsal tonight to prepare for. I manage a good two hours in a few separate sessions and really concentrate here on American Girl and Rival Sons’ Keep On Swinging. As well as a few details on some other songs and I also make sure I play the more familiar ones just because it’s so easy to take them for granted, get put on the spot and not be able to remember the note they start on and it not only all falls apart from there but immediately looks like you haven’t learnt the song at all.

Guess what happens in the rehearsal? Yep. I manage to mess up American Girl and Keep On Swinging. Not huge but enough that we have to stop and go round again. American Girl is just a complete mental block on a part I played over and over for about 10 minutes today and Keep On Swinging happens because, when it gets to the bass heavy part, it just all feels and sounds so different in here rhythmically that I just can’t get hold of it. A stop and check on that one sorts that out and a run through of the mentally blocked chords of American Girl gets that one back on track too. Apart from that, I get through everything else fine, including a few songs we hadn’t played before and a few passages unique to the band that I pick up on. For the first time, the lads start talking about Saturday night with me as part of the package. Craig even asks how my backing vocals are. I tell him they’re acceptable as long as I’m singing with someone else but not too good if I’m on my own and exposed. I tell him I am able to carry a tune and that playing and singing is absolutely fine. That somewhat qualified answer given, he tells me not to worry about backing on this gig and it’s something we’ll look at maybe in the next rehearsal. Fine by me. I do love singing and it’s one thing I really wish I could properly do. I just have a limited range, especially full on as backing vocals have to be, and a crappy voice.

A very notable aspect of this rehearsal is how much physically easier I find it than any other time I’ve played with them. I’ve done a lot of work in the past week on stamina, often playing 16ths in songs where they weren’t needed. I’ve also properly warmed up and stretched. Not just today but for the past few days, keeping my arms, wrists and hands in a state of readiness. I’ve also – and this is the clincher – done a lot of my practice standing up, especially when working on their set. This means that when it comes to playing some of the songs tonight, everything looks and feels exactly the same as it did at home. At no point in the rehearsal do I feel in trouble. In fact, just the opposite. I know I’ve developed, or redeveloped, a lot since that first reaudition when I had some difficulty, but tonight I feel the same as I do when I’m just playing these songs at home. Huge huge difference and in a very short space of time. I think I’ve been like a footballer that just needed a preseason to get back to matchfitness, although I know a full gig, which I haven’t done since before the summer, is another matter altogether.

Also, in this rehearsal and the last one with Omater, I’ve discovered that there are people in both bands who are full time musicians, or at least not far off. In my six years in Madrid, I never knowingly met one full time professional, not even when I was doing the jazz jams. I’ve now been in London just over four months, including the first month when I was nowhere near the music scene, and I’m in working with two.

I should get back to the transport issue for this location. I discovered that there is indeed an overland train that comes here. I’m told it’s direct. So I get to the overground station of Kentish Town West to be told I have to change at West Hampstead. Oh well. When I get to West Hampstead, I see boards announcing trains to and from Kentish Town. What have I missed? I guess I’ll find out. But I get from there to Mill Hill Boulevard fine and then set about finding the platform and times direct to Kentish Town. I find it. It’s just 15 minutes away on this line. Once I’ve done the short walk to the studio, I’m able to say that if I leave in good time from home, I can get door to door in about half an hour. Result.

When it’s time to leave, Matthew, the guitarist, says he’s going to the station. This will also give us a good opportunity to talk which we haven’t had so much apart from the little breaks in rehearsal. We’re also in a tiny bit of a rush to get the train but my toe has got all angry again and I’m really struggling to walk now so we have to go a bit slow. Bloody hell. Carrying the bass and adapting my walking to not put pressure on the toe at all really throws the whole body and there’s a pain right down my side now as well.

But again, as last night, something loosens up and by the time we get to the train station, it’s bearable. There, after the rushing, we discover we have ten minutes to wait so that’s good. Here, Matt tells me I’ve done really well to learn the whole set and he’s impressed I’ve got the basslines down the originals note for note. I’ve thrown a few of my own things in there but I have been quite faithful to them. He tells me how they’re really going for the corporate market now and have just done a live video to get that particular ball rolling. What I discover here is that the sound of the live performance won’t be used which is standard for these kinds of videos. What that means is we’ll be going into a studio soon to record the actual soundtrack. What that means is that I’ll be playing on the promo video but not actually featuring in it. But as he says, it’s just a promo video so all cool. I feel fine about that.

We have a good casual chat on the train. I tell him how I feel about my professional progression as it stands. That is that with The Punching Preachers and Omater on the go, I’m not looking for any more band projects now which I think is a pertinent point. What I’m hoping is that I can eventually start to build some other musical work around them; starting to regularly play live and being seen and getting known that way will be a huge help as far as that’s concerned. Teaching could start to be a possibility as well and he’s impressed that I’ve got so much experience in this field in Madrid. OK, English but teaching is teaching. “There are a lot of great guitarists who think that’s good enough to teach but it isn’t like that at all,” he says. Same with speaking English. We’re all top level professionals but teaching it is another matter entirely.

The subject of me possibly getting a five string also comes up and I say I would really like one but when he asks me what kind, I simply say, “The kind I can afford if it appears.” I did once see one in Madrid for €160. I don’t know if it was any good as I didn’t try it out; at the time, after rent and stuff, I was getting by with not a great deal more than that a month.

When I get off the train, I discover that walking really does hurt now and decide I’m bussing it home. There’s no way I’m walking all that way now. But the station looks a little strange to me even though it says Kentish Town. I follow the exit sign but when I start to reach it I’m a little disoriented. I recognise the supermarket chain across the road but I don’t remember Kentish Town West having any supermarkets near it. What exit am I coming out of? I soon find out. The side of Kentish Town underground station. Of course. I’d totally forgotten it had an overground station attached. Brilliant. I’m right around the corner from home. Good job too because every step ignites a fire in my whole lower foot now.

I make it home and am actually a little scared to take my sock off to see what I might find. When I do it’s not pretty. The end of my sock is stained and not just with blood but with whatever other crap has been leaking out of it during the evening. And to touch it. Oh no. It’s a mess and for the first time I wonder if the side of the nail will start to come off eventually taking the rest with it. The area around it is red and slightly swollen as well and there’s a slightly sharp pain on the side of the foot. This isn’t good. I decide there’s something in there that just has to go then surely it will be OK. I get the sharpest pointiest knife I have and give it a good heat up in the flame of a lighter I just happen to have. That gets inserted just to the side of the nail and I give a good push. Well. All that happens is a ridiculous pain that almost has me sweating and all for no result. Once that’s calmed down, it’s time for bed. By now I can’t even rest my foot on the mattress and have to rest it on my other foot which has the effect of cutting circulation off there. What a conundrum. Absentmindedly, I shift the duvet with the bad foot and that just causes all kinds of ructions. I finally get to sleep but am woken by the pain a few times in the night. Remember, I have a gig in a few days.

There’s nothing for it. Tomorrow, I have to go to the doctor. The only problem is, I haven’t got one.

Day 126

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Wednesday February 4

I don’t even attempt to walk to the medical centre. Getting down the stairs of home is bad enough. Luckily, I discover there’s a bus right outside the apartment block that goes by it. That’ll do. I don’t care how long it takes to arrive. I get off at The Abbey and find there is indeed a medical centre nearby. It’s huge. More like a hospital than a GP office. I’m to discover it’s got three levels and about 50 doctors’ surgeries in it, maybe more. Again, welcome to London. I stagger to the main desk and tell them I need an emergency appointment. I’m due in at work this evening and am really hoping a doctor can get out an injection or lance or something. I don’t say this though. Instead, I tell the receptionist that my work involves a lot of walking and I barely made it here. I’ll cut out the bureaucratic shenanigans which really aren’t as bad as they could have been to be fair. They’re not helped by the fact that I’ve not been registered with a doctor in England for about 15 years and have no idea who my last one could have been or what his address was. I could physically take the receptionist there and she could see for herself but I don’t think that would fly. Maybe she takes some mercy because she says she’ll put me in the system and they’ll call me when a doctor is available. I say I don’t care, I can hang around. But she says it could be a while so I’m best off going home and waiting. That’s what I’ll do. Out of the surgery, down the street, onto a bus and get off just at my building. Handy this London transport lark. Expensive but handy. Before I’ve even got to the outer door my phone goes. The gist is, “Hi Mr McClelland. Could you be here in 20 minutes? We’ve found a doctor for you.” Bloody hell. Good news but come on. I tell her I’ll be there as soon as the next bus coming allows me to. That seems good enough. One does in fact arrive in five minutes so I’m on my way.

I get in to see the doctor and he asks me what’s wrong. I tell him I’ve no idea how it happened or what it is. “OK. Just show me.” I do and he all but recoils. “Oh my,” he exclaims. Now, I’m sure you understand that doctors don’t react like that easily. And right now, this is the worst it’s ever looked. Even I’m a little shocked.

Straight away he says, “That looks like Paronychia.” Oh, right. That clears that up then. But I have to say I’m glad it has a name and, in a strange kind of way, glad of his reaction. I mean, when you’ve gone to the trouble of troubling a doctor you want something to be properly wrong with you, right? You definitely don’t want them to say something like, “Is that it? Here. Drink some water and try not to lift anything heavier than twice your body weight for the next few days.”

A quick investigation and he confirms that it is, in fact paronychia, a fungal infection that affects the sides of nails and can crop up with no apparent cause. He pulls up some pictures on the internet and my toe right now looks worse than all of them bar one. Not only that but he says it’s also developed into cellulitis which has spread to the surrounding areas. This explains the pain in the rest of the foot and now he says it, I can see it.

There are no injections or lances or any of that scary stuff I was actually hoping for. Instead he prescribes a solid course of antibiotics and tells me to take lots of painkillers. He says if it’s not improved by Saturday I should call the emergency medical number of 111. This is the number you call if something is urgent but not a 999 (911) emergency. However, he says if at any time it looks like spreading beyond the foot, I’m to immediately call 999 and take a trip to a hospital with full flashing blue lights. Bloody hell.

Almost as an afterthought, he adds that I have to keep total weight off it so should stay off work for a few days, maybe even a week. I don’t tell him I have a gig on Saturday night.

Later, absence from work tonight and the next few days assured, my mum happens to call. When I tell her I have this cellulitis thing she takes a sharp intake of breath and says she had it after breaking her ankle a few years ago. It was absolute agony apparently. When we finish, I decide it’s about time I looked it up. Oh. If left untreated you can die. Oops. Well at least now I know I wasn’t complaining over nothing.

Day 127

Thursday February 5

Incredible. The antibiotic’s already doing its work. The improvement is dramatic. Apart from that, it’s totally take it easy day.

Today I have a little space. I mean, I’m not sick that I can’t do anything. So with all the upheaval of getting to London and what it’s all involved, then putting myself about, then having to get down to learn the songs of the two bands I’m involved with, I finally break from all that and get back to my overall bass learning and improvement. That means straight back into drills of modes and chords although of course I have still been using them all this time. But this is deep dive modes and chords. I’m going to spend the next week on just mixolydian. With that, exploring all the chords and modes of each interval which I’m already familiar with, but really going to town on it. This is hugely going to help with Omater’s stuff which can be very improvisational and really demands a lot from the bass.

I even make a priority list of things to work on as I start to think about getting back on track. Slap is on there, as is reading – charts and dots – but step by step. In the course of doing all this, I also examine one of Punching Preachers’ songs – Australia. I have a little solo in this but have been having trouble finding the key centre of the song. Today I crack it. It’s D, meaning the song is in E Dorian. Well, we play it a step and a half down but the principle is the same.

But after the next few days, my plan of getting back to everything is going to have to wait just a tad though because I’m off to Madrid for a week on Monday and the bass won’t be coming with me. But I think it’s a really good start of what I’m going to focus on when I get back.

Day 128

Friday February 6

I wasn’t scheduled to work today anyway and not working Friday night usually means only one thing – Troy Bar. But not tonight. Instead I decide I have to save myself for tomorrow and, as per getting a cold, I really don’t want to push things too much too soon. So I continue to concentrate on The Punching Preachers and play through some of the less familiar songs in the set especially the so called easy ones with hardly any chord changes. They’re the ones where you can really trip up especially if they’re neglected. “Right, this next change. Is this the one to the four or the five? Do I go to the four twice before the five or hit the five between the two fours? Oh balls. The drummer’s started his count. What’s the first note?” That’s the kind of stuff that can happen when you get up to play something, ‘simple’ live and you’ve not given it its due respect.

It’s also great to be able to go out for a long walk on an errand around the Tube system as the latest little episode starts to come to an end. That’s a little back of the mind obstacle for tomorrow being steadily removed.

Day 129

Saturday February 7

Well, I went to the gig, finished every song more or less at the same time as everyone else, played more or less the same songs at the same time as everyone else, got paid and got home. So essentially job done.

Getting there was a minor issue with none of the lads coming my way or able to help me out with the amp but that was absolutely fine. Craig did say he might possibly have been in north London around gig time but in the end wasn’t. All completely fair enough so nothing for it to but to get a taxi there. It does cost a little more than I would have thought but hey, this is London and we all know getting around, especially in taxis, can be a little pricey. The company charges a little more for carrying an amp and tells me as much on the phone. OK. In the past I’ve had taxis refuse amps so at least I’m able to get there. The other good thing is that once I’ve done this, I’m sorted for the next gigs as Craig is going to take it in his van then, after tonight, all I’m going to have to do is get myself and bass to and from gigs.

Not knowing how long anything would take, I leave very early. I do get a little alarmed when the taxi driver stops after a good while and says, ‘here we are.’ Er, no we’re not. Where have you brought me? ‘This is the postcode the operator told me.’ Well, I told him the name of the bar and he repeated it. I’m wondering how much I can press the guy to take me to where I’d ordered a taxi for without charging more as this isn’t my mistake when I just say, ‘Try going down a little further. Maybe this bar and the Salmon And Ball share the same postcode. So he drives on a little more and there it is. Relief.

Out comes the amp, into the venue and that’s that job done. I’m a little more than half an hour early but I’ve brought my book as I always do just incase I have waiting round time. However, it just so turns out that Juventus and AC Milan is about to start so that’ll keep me plenty occupied until the lads turn up. I get the bottle of water out of my bag and settle down to the game. After about ten minutes, a guy who, let’s say, looks like he knows how to look after himself, gives me a little nudge and says, ‘Hi mate.’ In the split split second before he continues talking, I have enough time to wonder just who this might be and I can only conclude he must be an SBLer or a friend of an SBLer about to ask if I’m Mark. He’s neither. What comes out of his mouth is, ‘You’re going to have to buy a drink or I’m going to ask you to leave.’ ‘Oh, I’m with the band,’ I say, pointing to the amp and bass case a few feet in front of me by the corner stage. Immediately he goes from mildly menacing to hugely friendly and expressive. ‘Oh wow. What is it you do then? A bit of the old guitar?’ ‘No. I’m the bass player.’ ‘Fantastic. Well, you relax and wait for the lads and enjoy the footie. I thought you were someone come in just to watch the football and not buy a drink. ‘Absolutely not,’ I assure him. ‘I definitely wouldn’t do that.’ He has a quick laugh then goes about the rest of his business of running the bar.

The guys turn up in good time and I’m thrown straight back into memories of setting up a stage for a gig. Up to the van. Back to the venue. Up to the van. Back to the venue. It feels very pleasantly familiar.

As it gets closer to showtime, it gets more and more apparent that this is going to be quite a low key affair which, for a first gig with a new band, is really no bad thing. There’s no stage. Instead, we’re set up right across the venue widthways facing the side part of the bar which then turns a right angle to go down the rest of the pub. There’s a decent enough area in front of us and then, to my right where Craig and then guitarist Matt are, they have a good view right down to the back.

Day 129 – part 2

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

I’ve been told by people who used to live here that this is a real east end of London place. For those of you who don’t know, London’s East End has a historic reputation of being a hard area – it was also heavily bombed in the war and came to represent the popular image of Britain’s unbreakable spirit. This is where England’s most notorious gangsters, The Krays, came from. Right here where I am now in Bethnal Green. So close, in fact, that when I was looking for the place on the map, I saw that it was just down the road from The Blind Beggar. This is the pub where, on the 9^th of March, 1966, Ronnie Kray walked in and calmly shot a gang rival dead in broad daylight in front of customers. This was the crime for which he was eventually imprisoned. The East End’s reputation is also encapsulated for much of the country in a soap opera called Eastenders which follows the day to day hardships and triumphs of the people who live there. It’s been going for nearly 30 years and has been at or near the top of the ratings for much of that time. It has been criticised for straying too far from the truth and too close to stereotype and cliche, but then, a soap opera like this could hardly have been inspired by a district in the Cotswalds.

So there’s a little idea of the setting of the venue and I do feel slightly excited just being in Bethnal Green purely for its notorious gangster history however distant that that may be; being within touching distance of The Blind Beggar just makes it that more real. The place steps up a little more in my estimation when I’m told by a reliable source that it’s actually a more authentic east end location that its breweried colleague. I guess you could say it’s quite a long way from the famous Barfly in Camden.

So we’re not expecting much more than a working gig and that’s pretty much what we get. So much so that, at the interval, the lads make a point of telling me the shows aren’t all like this. We open with U2’s Vertigo and after that it’s pretty much one song straight into the next. I have a setlist by my side and we stay completely faithful to it.

For most of that first set, we play to a few oldish guys spotted sporadically along the bar. But in this unpromising setting, I see that The Punching Preachers adhere to the old rule of playing the same gig to ten people as you would to ten thousand. Craig’s still giving it all, sometimes going and sitting at someone’s table to sing, sometimes going almost out on to the street. The other guys aren’t exactly staring at their shoes either. As for me, well, I’ve always had that attitude but then, once the music catches on I can’t stay still if I want to. Something does still feel a little forced but then that’s the professionalism of dealing with the situation. If you just go through the motions, no-one out there is ever going to get into it and people walking past won’t be tempted to come in. If you do manage to tempt a few people in off the street, what you start to get then is a crowd, however small. And nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd.

During the interval, the place suddenly fills up with an influx of Italians and it looks like for the next set we’re going to have something more resembling that crowd I’ve been going on about. Just as we’re getting ready to go back on, an Italian girl comes up to me and says in broken, strongly accented English, ‘Maybe it’s not the right word, but why do you have a longer guitar arm than the others?’ Where do you start answering that? All I can think of to say is that it’s a bass and so has a different sound which means it has to be longer. I have no idea if she understands the words or the explanation but she seems happy enough. She wanders back into the developing crowd and I go back to retrieve my long armed guitar ready to go again.

This time, as well as the large group of Italians which has now filled the place, we also have a small knot of regulars opposite us and they seem to have had enough drinks now to really be in the mood. It’s a party within a party. We’re kind of playing for the bigger crowd at the same time as playing for them. When they start to file out in between songs towards the end of the night, a few come forward and shake every band member’s hand.

But despite all this, when we get to the end, there’s no huge shout for an encore and the boys don’t force it which I’m happy to see. I really don’t like forced encores. I quite liked Robbie Williams’ one at Dublin Castle a few years ago though – maybe he does it everywhere, I don’t know. “Now I’m gonna go and do that pretend go off thing that everyone does and then come back again.” Contrast this with the quite poor Elvis impersonator I saw at a holiday camp when I was a kid. He left the stage to deafening silence. Then, just as everyone was getting back to their drinks and thinking, ‘I’m glad that’s over,’ a voice came over the PA. “Do you want some more?” “Nooooo,” came the shout. After which he confidently reemerged and played his encore.

After that it’s all breakdown and back to the van, although this time there’s an addition. The bass amp. All I’ll have to do next time is get myself to the gig. In between all this comes the payment part. Now, like most people having a serious go at breaking into entertainment while having to pay the rent, I have a minimum wage, semi flexible job. So I’m not making a huge claim here but the money I get put into my hand after playing bass for just under two hours is more than I would have got if I’d gone into work tonight and done a full shift.

We had a few drinks ordered just before the bar shut so that’s a little bit of post gig chilling during which time I’m able to assess my own performance. I think I’ll give myself a 7/10. My overall playing has been good and solid, my improvised runs, I think, have been good. And the brief solo on Manics’ Australia was passable. All the other little high bassy parts in introductions and stuff I also carried off OK although I did have a minor blank when it came to the high bass part in Alright Now which I just couldn’t believe. My biggest issue was in songs I’ve been playing fine but haven’t yet totally assimilated which meant that for some reason I was missing a few cues and going into parts hitting totally the wrong notes although everytime I instantly recovered and hit the right ones. But it was hugely annoying that I had to recover in parts I thought I knew well, and not without reason as I’d played them flawlessly in rehearsal and at home. This all told me one thing. Before the next gig, I have to drill and drill and drill the songs again. I’ve played shows where I’ve had blank moments on the next part of a song and, without thinking, my fingers have just gone to the right spot. I’m not going to achieve that overnight but the fact that I’m a long way from that with these songs proves that work can still be done. And, however simple a song is, if you come in on the wrong note it’s all gone wrong. I’ve not done that tonight but there were a few spots when I was looking at the setlist of songs to come and thinking, “What exactly do I do in that one? How exactly do I start that one?”

Here are a few examples.

Setlists get changed round on the spot all the time. It’s how you react to circumstances or could be on the whim of the singer. That’s all fine. But when Chelsea Dagger takes a new position, for some reason, I don’t get that memo. So the drums start and something in my head says I should play something with them but I don’t know what. It’s only at the last split second I realise what song he’s playing and that it starts with a bass intro. Do I catch the very first note? I’m really not sure. But I do catch something recognisable enough that the rest of the band comes in as they should. Last ditch save. At least I don’t do what Steve Harris did on his first ever gig. Apparently the whole thing started with a bass intro which he messed up so badly that the band didn’t realise he’d played it and so didn’t start.

Another one.

The band has an original song called Down South. The setlist I’m looking at calls for us to play Down Under. Spot my mistake. I’m all set for a four count and all in. Instead, the drummer sets off on a weird little pattern. What the hell is that? It takes me about halfway through it to realise he’s playing Land Down Under by Men At Work. By the time that’s happened, I’ve wasted half of the two seconds of drumtime and have exactly one second left to recover myself and remember exactly how that song’s supposed to start and get myself repositioned accordingly. It’s quite a fast, intricate bass intro doubling the guitars so everything has to be in the right place to begin. This time I do make it just in time. Wow. Don’t want to get caught out like that again.

But for all this, 90% of the time I hit the stops and starts right and, as an old band leader of mine once said, get them right and you’re halfway there (This somewhat reminds me of a quote in The Untouchables. “Remember men, surprise is half the battle” To which the reply comes, “Many things are half the battle. Losing is half the battle. Let’s concentrate on what is all the battle.”) While I’m mulling all this over, it’s announced that the next gig will be done without a rehearsal so it’s all on me to get everything straightened out in time for that one and I’m quick to let the lads know that I realise a little tightening up is in order.

After all this, it’s goodbye and onto the next interesting bit. How to get home from here at this time of night. I’d already checked to see if buses went from here to the city centre and the friendly landlord of the place directs me to a bus stop about 50 yards away where it goes from. Yep. This’ll do. Through Tottenham Court Road and onto Oxford Circus. I get off a little way between the two of them and begin a walk I’m confident will bring me in alignment with a night bus home. The area of Tottenham Court Road is completely visible from my apartment front door in the shape of the Telecom Tower. As long as I know I’m going north and keep the tower in my sights then get past it, I know I’m walking in the direction of Kentish town and will, sooner or later, come across a bus stop that goes there. Just to make sure, I do check with a cycling taxi that I am indeed going north and he confirms that I am. Keeping the tower in sight isn’t hard as it’s the third tallest building in the country. There I go. Right past it from a distance of about 20 yards and now well and truly on my way. A little further on and I see a traffic direction sign for Camden. Here we go. I stay on the main road for that and within about 10 minutes see the bus stop I’d promised myself. The display says it will arrive in five minutes then it’s job done. I guess this has been about a half hour walk which has felt a little longer with its slightly uncertain nature. The next day I’ll realise I could have stayed on the bus all the way to Oxford Circus and got a nightbus from there (the C2 if you’re wondering). But this little adventure is an education and confirms my thoughts that wherever we play in London I’ll be able to make a connection to get a nightbus home. I just need to research it a little more next time. Well actually, here’s what I decide I’m going to do; make a list of all the nightbuses that come through or near Kentish Town and see the different destinations they all pass through. Once I’ve done that, all I have to do is get to one of those destinations from whatever venue we’re playing at. I’m going to be able to Tube it to all the gigs so that’s that part taken care of. This is how I’m going to take my backside and my bass around London to whatever venue a given night has in store for us.

With this more or less thought through, I arrive home around 3:30am. The first thing I do is check the maps and see that the route I took home really wasn’t a bad one at all. The second thing I do is realise I really should get to bed now. I have a rehearsal with Omater in less than seven hours followed by a shift in the restaurant till closing time. As for my drilling the songs, I won’t be able to start that for another while because once I’m done with Omater and work, come late Monday morning, I’m off to Madrid for a week and will there be bassless.

Day 130

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Sunday, February 8

I enter the studio this morning to find another new guitarist. I’m getting a little frustrated with this. It’s not something I’ve spoken about too much here but things really are chopping and changing a lot with this band. I do understand; Omater is looking for the best people and is having to go through one or two to find them. By that I mean musically, personally and attitudewise. She’s all about harmony and creating a vibe which actually isn’t a bad description of her songs. So hopefully we’ll get there but as I said, it is starting to become a little frustrating. But we get into it, the guy really knows his stuff and me and him work well together. We end up with a successful rehearsal and a positive feeling. Once everyone’s up to speed, we can gig with the lineup we have now and possibly add as we go. When I arrived in London, joining a band that was starting more or less from scratch was definitely not on my list. In fact, I had it in my mind that it was something I definitely wasn’t going to do. When I joined this band, I had the impression it was a rolling project that just needed a bass player to slot in before it continued again. But now myself and a backing vocalist are all that’s left from my first days with them. However Omater is very good and she’s putting her all into finding the right people to take her and us forward. I also like her a lot but in the past, I’ve put liking people too far up my agenda. That is to say, I’ve stuck with musical projects far beyond what I should have done purely because the people in them were friends, or I liked them, when I would have been better off saying, this just isn’t working out. It’s a tricky balancing act. I mean, on the other hand, you don’t want to be working with a bunch of A-holes just because they’re good.

I really do think this is worth giving a shot. And anyway, it’s not really stopping me picking up other projects and if it does, then that will only be because it’s started working. We’re also not too far off gigging now and once that happens, we can see where it takes us. If nothing happens a while after starting to hit stages, maybe then a rethink might be in order but I very much want to see where this goes. Possibly more, it would be a nightmare to say, “Guys, I’m done with all these changes, I’m off,” and then see the thing come together and properly take off. Can you imagine?

Back to today, once rehearsal’s done, it’s time to go to work where I’m timetabled on till close. Due to all the foot shenanigans and timetable quirks, this will be my first day in for a week. I arrive and as soon as I’ve dropped all my stuff downstairs and headed into the restaurant, the chef bell goes. This is the signal that food is ready to be taken out. Two bowls of chips to be delivered to the other end of the bar. I’m nearest so I pick them up. Now, last night I played my first full gig since before the summer. And I’ve just come directly from a two and a half to three hour rehearsal. My whole bass style right now is finger picking. I get two yards with these chips and the fingers in my right hand decide they’re just not having it. A bowl goes crashing to the floor. Chips everywhere, all eyes on me. Just then the boss walks past. “Mark’s back everyone,” he announces. Even the chefs have a little giggle as I give them my profuse apologies. Two more bowls of chips coming up.

Day 131

Monday, February 9

Today I’m off to Madrid until Saturday. I’ve been thinking about how I would write this bit. Do I make it the Madrid diary for a week? Do I just continue it as the London diary? Because I’m going for completely non bass/diary related business, I thought I’d just visit a few little points of interest through the week, but I’m going to keep the London Diary day numbers. I should get through this quite quickly.
I’m also hoping to catch up with a few friends and get a little relax time into the bargain as well. I’m going to stay with Jenn in our old apartment and generally just have a good old hangout. I get the underground to Sol, right in the heart of Madrid. Exiting the station via the new and famous ‘egg’ I get a surge of excitement I never expected to feel on returning here. Google Sol metro pictures and you’ll see the egg. I’ve always said I loved Madrid, it was just the working there that was the problem, and then there was the little thing of no pro music scene. As a Spanish friend said to me, and I’m sure I’ve said it in here somewhere before, ‘A great place to live, a terrible place to work.’ Not having to work here, or find work, for the first time in forever makes just the feeling of being in Madrid totally different. As a great friend of mine who now lives in Wales said before I went, ‘You can be there without it being real.’ When I send him a message saying, ‘bum me, I’m in Madrid,’ he replies, ‘Enjoy it from a new perspective.’ I already am.

Monday evening around 10pm I wander into our local bar just on the edge of Madrid’s La Latina party district. Enrique, my old football partner, and Jose, greet me like the long lost friend I guess I am and the two of them quickly confirm that I’ve lost none of my Spanish. Which is nice. After a hugely generous portion of tapas and some free drinks – a custom in some places if you’ve spent a decent amount of money in a session but tonight we just get them – me and Jenn head on to what I used to call home to get stuck into the nicely expensive whiskey I bought on my way here.

Day 132

Tuesday, February 10

Today’s MMDDMM. This is Madrid Menu Del Dia Martes Madness. Menu del dia is an old tradition in Madrid which is a three course meal for around €10 to ensure the workers could get a good, affordable lunch. Even some nice restaurants do it. The MMDDMM is organised by a friend of mine called Marc who’s one of the better known English language characters in Madrid. He’s a Dubliner who’s worked in bars his whole time in Spain. The crowd is always different but there are plenty of regulars, many of them from the English scene who know each other and a sprinkling of Spanish people taking the opportunity to speak English. With the strange, irregular timetables everyone’s on over there, more people than you would think have random days or afternoons off, or just a decent chunk of Tuesday. They take place in a different location every week and then afterwards, copas, tapas and cervezas for those who want to continue mid afternoon into late afternoon and beyond.
When I lived in Madrid I was rarely able to go because I was always working. I think I went to two. I at least know I went to one. That’s because it was my last day in Madrid before I went to the Costa Blanca to begin this little thing. That very sunny July day, the whole crowd went onto a rock/pool bar where I became the de facto pool champion by beating the girl who no-one could get off the pool table. I proved it was no fluke by also winning the rematch. We were going to go for a third but just ran out of time.

Back to today and it’s a very successful Korean lunch but unfortunately hardly anyone ventures out afterwards. Me, Marc and two Spanish girls who buy us a drink then leave after that. So then there were two. No harm. I have a busy schedule and it all slots nicely into place. Rick, the Drunken Monkees singer who directed me a little around Benidorm, says I should swing by and say hello to him. We’re more or less in his area. You might remember I helped him clean out the kitchen in his new restaurant when I landed in Madrid, broke from the Costa Blanca adventure. Well now it’s up and running and goes by the name Tuc Tuc. This is a quick visit because he’s working and I’ll be in again during the week. Plus we’ll make time for a drink or two. But also, Rob Thornburn, the guitarist in my old Madrid Blues band Soul Mission asked on the phone, just before lunch, if I could come by and see him after I’ve been to Rick’s. He’s trying to make a go of it with a mixing studio set up in a huge rehearsal studio complex we used to use and whose owner he knows very well. I’ve also been in touch with Sally today and she’d love me to go to an open mic with her tonight. So that’s Rick, the singer from my old Madrid pop punk band Drunken Monkees, Rob the guitarist from my old blues/soul band Soul Mission, then Sally the singer of the same band all in one seamless evening. And all preceded by a rare visit to MMDDMM. Not a bad start at all.

When I get to the studio to meet Rob, he’s eager to play me some of the recordings he’s been working on which sound fantastic. Having managed to set up office/studio in this space, he’s instantly accessible to all the bands that come here and also hang out in the bar before and after rehearsals. During this listening session, he plays me some more work he’s done on a backing track I’d written a song to, using a hook of his as the centrepiece of the chorus. He’s keen to get Sally on the track with all three of us working together on it while I’m here. I tell him I’ll be seeing Sally tonight so I’ll see what we can do.

After this, we go to the bar where, as if to prove a point, a band immediately gets talking to him about possibilities of fixing up a recording for them. We all chat for a while and then they ask if we’d like to hear some of their songs. First, it’s for the benefit of Rob so that he can hear the recordings he’s going to work with. Then they say they’ll play some stuff and ask if I’ll sit in with them. Cool. That can be done. Then, just as they start to set up, their bassist turns up. They leave him to it and I don’t mention it either.

Once me and Rob have left and gone our separate ways, I head on out to the open mic to catch Sally. I find the place and it’s now the venue for a pay-in gig. The open mic started and finished early. Balls. I hadn’t thought about that possibility. Poor planning and forgetting charger means my phone’s now also out of battery so I can’t call Sally to see where she is post session. It can’t be that far. Oh well. With that I call it a night.

Day 133

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Wednesday, February 11

I intend to get back to the diary today and start by writing up the gig with Punching Preachers. A few hundred words in and all the keys on the computer suddenly decide to mess themselves up. So, for example, I hit a ‘g’ and get a ‘k’. The whole keyboard’s like that and it will take a restart to fix it. “Oh yeah,” says Jenn. It does that. It’s a bit annoying. A bit? I restart it and continue only for it to happen again about 20 minutes later. That’s it. I’ve had enough trying to write with that.

Instead, once Jenn’s gone out to work, I decide to use the day to just have a good old fashioned wander. When I start to get a bit hungry and am thinking about where to go. It comes to me. There’s only one possible place. Palentinos. This is the place I heard about from Jesus, the Spanish guy I met the other week. Now I remember promising him that when I got to Madrid I’d go to his favourite bar there. So now I do. It’s deep in Malasana. Malasana is a special place in Madrid. I’ve just wikipedia’d it. It’s said to be to Madrid what Camden is to London or East Village to New York or Baixa de Porto in Oporto. It was the absolute centre of Spain’s counterculture movement in the 70s and 80s and features in quite a few Pedro Almodovar films.

Well, I now live in the borough of Camden, just 10 minutes walk from Camden Town itself and, when I was in New York about 18 months ago, the village was the place that resonated most with me. And I lived in Malasana for three years and, despite my Madrid misgiving, totally loved it. I enter it from Gran Via. It’s a totally self contained village or town within a city. It has theatres, shops, supermarkets and bars and restaurants. And plazas and squares. It’s a place very few tourists see. You see some occasionally looking lost in the side streets close to the city proper but that’s about it. I never thought I’d say this but, writing this now, I’m missing it a bit. Coming in from Gran Via there’s a definite feeling that you’re entering another place. First you have to make your way through the prostitutes. When I lived here I was a familiar face so they’d leave me alone but today I get a few hisses for business. Rule number one. Never make eye contact. That all but makes you fair game. Once in Malasana, it’s very easy for even those familiar with it to get lost. For the first year or so I lived there, whenever I entered from an unfamiliar point I felt like I was winging it. I’d often walk home at night down the hill towards the main city centre then, at some point have to take a sharp left and into the jungle sprawl and uncertainty of Malasana. One wrong turn in there and I’d have trouble finding my bearings again. I didn’t know it at the time but in my first weeks in Madrid I got hopelessly lost and couldn’t even find the city again despite being in the centre of it. As I got to know the place, I realised I now knew the area I’d been stumbling round in. This is where I head in now to visit Palentinos, feeling like a local again as I knowingly and confidently negotiate every twist and turn. And there I am at Palentinos. I take a quick snap of it as I arrive and a selfie with the bar in the background. Will I see Jesus again? I have no idea. But if I do, I can’t possibly not be able to show him these little mementoes. Once in, I order a wonderfully leisurely drink and sandwich and tell the owner about my chance meeting with one of his regulars in London. Bloody hell. Central Camden town as it happens. And while I’m here, I dig out the wonderful book I recently found – The Berlin Wall. I lived there for two years, 1988 – 1990. And what happened in 1989? Yep. I’m reading a history book which contains a part of history I lived through. Alright, I was annoyingly at boarding school so missed the momentous, epoch changing day itself but was there just weeks later when I enthusiastically took to personally helping take the Wall down. So I’m in Malasana talking about a guy I met in Camden while reading about a historic event in my old town of Berlin.

For the evening, me and Jenn are heading out to Triskels, our one time local English bar in Malasana and still the go to place for Premier League football and home of a weekly open mic event which is a huge feature of the English language music scene. So I’ll be in tomorrow for that. We see the game – her beloved Everton losing very unfortunately to a last minute Chelsea goal. But that’s not important. Five minutes after the game, I get randomly chatting to a guy called Paul. We’re talking about this and that and eventually he asks where I live now. Kentish Town, Camden. “Oh cool,” he says. “I used to work in The Vine.” This is a pub just down the road from The Oxford and its staff come to our place all the time. I’ve been there twice I think. “Wow,” I say. “I work in the Oxford. The Vine’s part of our same company.” “Oh. I used to work there too. Is Lucas still there?” Lucas is not still there but I do know him and was at a party with him less than three weeks ago – the night with the fortuitous nightbus. I tell all this to Paul. I miss out the bit about the nightbus.

Day 134

Thursday, February 12

It’s around this time that I start to get a little concerned about returning to London and work. I’ve not mentioned this but Dru, the boss who hired me, is leaving in the next few weeks. Without losing any of the boss dynamic, he’s someone I’ve come to get on really well with. Not only that, but he hired me being fully aware of what I was doing in London and subsequently became very supportive of it. Will the next person feel quite the same way? Also, I worked one day last week, am now away for another week on holiday, and I already know my timetable next week is pretty sparse. I could be in danger of being forgotten here. I do manage to push those thoughts out a little but parts stubbornly remain.

But all those concerns disappear when I find myself back in Triskels for the Thursday open mic night. Oh, but before I go there, let me tell you that Jenn and I have a joint birthday dinner at Rick’s place Tuc Tuc tonight. Yes he’s a friend and yes, I’ve eaten at his house before and always fantastic, but I can say without bias that Tuc Tuc is among the best restaurants I’ve been to in Madrid. If you do find yourself in this fine city sometime, pay it a visit. But if you’re planning on a Thursday, Friday or Saturday night, you’d better book. It’s Philipino style by the way.

After dinner, Rick closes the place and we all go to the open mic at Triskels. There I catch up on a lot of old faces and a few people do ask if I fancy getting up and playing bass with them. Unless my songwriting, producing friend James comes along with his bass in my old bass case that I gave him when I left, that’s probably unlikely. Someone asks why I didn’t bring it from London. I just tell him I had enough to carry. What I don’t say is, ‘Yeah. It would have been an idea to have paid the extra baggage to bring my bass to Madrid – both ways – then carried it around on the offchance I got asked to play a couple of sets in Triskels at the Thursday open mic.’

But it is really cool to hear some of the old tunes again and just have a general late night hang out, again in the old hood of Malasana. And it’s made a little extra special by the fact that Sally’s there with her new musical partner and they get up and just totally silence the place. When I first saw Sally perform and long before I got to know her, I thought, ‘here is a girl who could take on the biggest of stages and win.’ When she came to audition for our band she just smashed it and there was no-one else close in the running. She just keeps taking it to new levels and I’ve now decided that no trip to Madrid can be complete without seeing this amazingly versatile and charismatic singer perform. She’s a wonderful person too by the way. You’ll discover that if you ever happen to be in the area and lucky enough to meet her. Ask around. People will know.

Day 135

Friday, February 13

Today I finally get to play some bass. And meet a few more people before shipping back out. Richard Harris and The Red Telephones are playing tonight and me and Jenn go along. Rich is a born and bred Essex boy, lifelong Hammers fan, and the organiser of the Triskel and Cafe Palma open mic nights, among other things; Cafe Palma is where Soul Mission played their debut show – if you don’t count our live national radio appearance as the first show. Rich is also a huge Clash fan and his band is just unashamedly loud, although he does perform all the same songs acoustically from time to time. He’s also an intermittently prolific writer so this is a great gig to catch up with him. He’s managed to pull a really good crowd and, Rich style, launches himself totally, Joe Strummer style, into every song. On drums he has the wonderful Woody Woodenman who’s also run the Triskels Open mic and is one of the real characters of Madrid. He gives me a big smile from the kit as I walk in and generally plays with a total abandon and lack of inhibition while never missing a beat.

I’m very pleased to see Rob Thornburn’s there, as is James who I was particularly keen to catch up on. Sally thought she’d make it too but doesn’t which is a shame. And there are a few Spanish friends there to catch up with too. After Rich finishes, I think it’s all over but instead he invites Padraig O’Connor up to play, who is one of the most talented songwriters in Madrid. He goes on keys and up with him comes Kestor Jones on guitar who is possibly the best all round musician in the English language community of the city, although I personally prefer Rob Thornburn as a guitarist. They’re joined by Hugh Kearns on Cajon who plays fine and solid. Once on stage, Padraig looks at me and mimes a bass action with that head signal that says, ‘Get on up here.’ Well, none of the gear up there is mine so I have to find Rich’s bass player who, somehow, I don’t know. Turns out his name’s Will and there he is. So I go up and introduce myself and practically in the same breath ask if I can use his bass and amp. ‘No problem,’ he says. So up I go as soon as Padraig and Kestor finish their current number. Once up there I have no idea what we’re going to play or if I’m going to end up stumbling around trying in vain to follow Padraig on his latest composition – it’s happened. Mercifully, he turns to me and says, ‘We’re going to do a blues in C.’ Game on. So the three of us rock it out and close the whole show with that one. I even manage to get in a solo which is how we finish the jam and the set.

After, a bunch of us follow James who knows a place which gives huge tapas with every round of canas. For those of you who don’t know, a cana is essentially a thimbleful of beer that would get you thrown/laughed out of any English pub if you tried to order one. But in Madrid it’s the way many people go, especially seeing as one round of drinks equals one round of tapas. Doing it with canas just means there’s more to go round, although I never quite got the hang of them to be fair. But I join in tonight and indeed the food does keep coming with James saying to everyone, ‘Told you, didn’t I?’ Indeed he did. Jenn unfortunately doesn’t make it because she’s stayed back at the venue talking with our bilingual friend Mike. She told us she knew the place but turns out there were a few too many streets in between and for some reason my phone decides to switch itself off just as she’s trying to call.

In among all the noise of the bar and the people in here from the gig, I ask James about his current musical plans. He says he’s doing a lot of studio work which he’s combining with English teaching with students he picked up from me – it’s practically impossible not to have to do that second bit. He’s also playing every open mic he can with his own acoustic songs while putting his own gigs on from time to time. I ask him about the possibility of putting a band together. ‘That would be no problem at all,’ he says. ‘We could do that, but then where do you play?’ We say that last line in unison. Alright, Rich has just played a show. Shows do happen but not in any real kind of momentum way or in a fashion that could actually lead to anything and James has just summed that up. Yeah, I could put a band together, but why?

As closing time comes, it’s our lot who are the only people left in the bar. It’s time to go and everyone’s talking about going off somewhere else. Maybe to invent a party at some unsuspecting person’s house. Their plans are still solidifying when I have to say that it’s time for me to leave. I have a flight in the morning. So we all say goodbye there and then on that street corner after a great night of live music and tapas. I walk back through familiar streets, past the Royal Palace, over the famous Calle Bailen Bridge and finally into the the old apartment. Jenn’s still up and that’s when I find out my phone was off. She’s not mad though. Her and Mike had a good catch up and another drink somewhere else in the same area. Probably in the bar next door to ours.

Day 136

Saturday, February 14

Morning comes, me and Jenn say an emotional goodbye and I’m off to the airport. Back in London I get the Gatwick Express to Victoria then a couple of Tube trains to Kentish Town station. From there I go straight to The Oxford making it just in time for the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. Well, ten minutes late to be fair. It’s the first time I’ve ever been late to this place but it just happens to be on what is traditionally the busiest dining night of the year. I would have been just about on time if I hadn’t watched one of my trains leave.

Tomorrow I have a 10am Omater rehearsal and then I’m back in work from 2pm until close.

Day 137

Sunday, February 15

Not only am I back in rehearsal at 10am this morning after the late one last night, but this is the day we try out a new place and it’s at least an hour away from me. No rolling out of bed and across the road to Kentish Town Studios today. I say an hour, but as I’ve never been there before I have to make that an hour and a half which stings just that little bit more.

Mile End is the destination. We’re going to Pawel the drummer’s place which he’s kindly offered to let us use. I get only slightly lost and arrive just a tad late although everyone’s sitting round having a cup of tea so that’s fine. Would I like a cup? Are you kidding me? Bring it on. After that, it’s time to see what kind of rehearsal space we’ve got here. And it really is interesting. Downstairs. Or that should be, down the ladder. Bloody hell it’s steep and everyone has a good laugh at my reaction as I go first with the bass. I get down there and it really is a very cool but with an ultra low ceiling that even I could headbutt. Drumkit, a few amps and a PA with speaker tops which we’re going to run vocals and bass through.

Once we’re all set up, I’m in the unfamiliar and slightly bizarre position of not being able to see Yannis, the guitarist. He’s ended up positioned on the other side of a supporting beam. This should be interesting for mid song communication. It’s down here that Omater confirms what she’s been thinking lately. We’re going to take what we’re doing in a more pop direction. The songs will stay the same melodically and, for the most part, structurally. But the rhythms and style will be changing. More simple and accessible basically. This is where it begins.

We start with a song we’ve played quite a few times before and 40 minutes later we’re still working on it. Something just isn’t clicking and it doesn’t feel right. There’s no immediacy there. We go through a few more songs and they come together a little quicker and towards the end come back to the first one again. It’s all centering around what the bass and drums will do. Before it was a simple 1-5 bass pattern. Now we’re looking for more of a call and response. I’m really having trouble with it. A few suggestions are thrown my way but none of them feel right either. Eventually I think I hit on something. It’s fast but it has a real disco feel and everyone else seems to be getting off on it as well so finally something’s working on this one. We finally manage a play through of the song that has everyone moving. And it’s just at this point that I have to leave. It’s a good job I’m in work at 2pm today and not one like I am most Sundays. This means I’m able to stay for most of the rehearsal and then get off. But it is very much remarked on that I really am now alive to everything and it’s true I’m talking with more animation than I have all morning. I suddenly have ideas of what can be done with certain songs and they’re all coming out at once. I have to get out of here before we get started on another song otherwise I’ll be far behind time before I know it.

After that I find the tube station easy enough. Time to do Sunday.

So that gets done. Bearing in mind my sparse schedule this week, when work finishes I take time to write on the rota that I’m available for extra shifts should someone need cover. Then I’m done.

Although it’s far too late to go to The Blues Kitchen now, I think I might just be able to catch a few of the guys at a late bar afterwards. I mention to Kieron I’m going out and he fancies a bit of that too. I have a nice quietish one in mind. That one’s closed. Balls. Off to The Elephant’s Head it is. And it is rammed, rammed, rammed. Think of the front of a big rock concert. There you go. My thoughts about catching someone come true when guitarist Alan walks in. He asks where I’ve been all this time and I just tell him I’ve been working. I also mention Madrid and Palentinos and Jesus. “There’s Jesus over there,” he says. Cool. Nice one. I try to make my way over but this crowd just isn’t having it. He goes one way, I go another and before I know it, not only have I lost sight of the guy, I’ve forgotten what he looks like now since Alan pointed him out. It really is about as busy a bar as I’ve ever been in. I do find Kieron and he directs us in the other direction and somehow we come up onto a raised area and suddenly have chairs and tables and he knows the guys occupying them. Of course he does. While we’re sitting there finally just chilling a little I’m able to look back over the bar. Yep. Front row of a rock concert. And here we are with all the room in the world. I just can’t figure that one out.

This coming out tonight. I think it’s just about keeping myself in the thoughts of whoever I might see. You just never know when someone’s going to ask someone else about a bass player they might know. I’ve not been to The Kitchen for a while now. If Kes, the house bassist, or any other musician there, had been asked today, would I have been on the list? Maybe not. If I bump into someone tonight and they’re asked tomorrow, I just might be. This isn’t a case of simply going out tonight and hoping I meet someone I know and something happens in the next few days. This is a whole way of life and an attitude. Keep going out. Keep meeting people. Keep playing. That one day when you make that strange connection and end up meeting that person because they happened to talk to someone you met the night before. That doesn’t happen because you went out on February 16 and had a magical alignment with the stars – although that could also be true – it happens because you’re out every possible night making every possible connection.

Pick a number and stick with it. Now throw a one thousand sided dice. As long as you don’t put the dice down and give up, sooner or later you will roll that number. Did you get lucky with a magical roll or did you just keep going?

Day 138

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Monday February 16

I’m not working today so after the last couple of days’ madness I really take it easy with plans to get productive at some point in the afternoon. I don’t even get up till about 11. Round about 2:30 I start to think I can get my doing stuff head on. Just then the phone rings. Can I come into work tonight? With the concerns about that I’ve been having in Madrid and what I’ve written on the rota, I can’t possibly say no. I don’t want to say no anyway. So my doing stuff turns into a quick run through of as many Punching Preacher songs as I can and then it’s time to do all the usual bits and pieces before heading out to work this extra shift.

Day 139

Tuesday, February 17

There’s a bar just down the road from me that’s been mentioned as a real hotspot for some top musicians. Maybe I’m getting totally the wrong end of the stick but I’ve only heard it mentioned once and when I had a look into it, I got the impression they liked their little known quantity thing so I won’t mention the name of the place here. Besides, I’m sorry but I feel I’ve really put myself about and got myself known just a tiny little – enough that someone told me about the place over a drink after what felt like a mild interview, so I really don’t want to just give it away.

Apart from that, I set about drilling songs for The Punching Preachers’ gig on Saturday. Tricky to remember parts I just play over and over again. Then it’s just a case of playing as many songs as I can as many times as I can. My plan is to do this until early to mid evening and then go and see what this bar is all about.

Wouldn’t you know, at 2:30 again I get another call. Can I come into work tonight? Not in the restaurant but on the bar? Well, I do kind of have plans but it’s not like I’m letting anyone down or anything was super arranged so yep. I’ll be in. Besides, this will transform my hours for this week. And given what I was thinking a few days ago, I’d be mad to not be happy about getting the call.

I think it’s worth noting that tonight is busy. I don’t do many evenings on the bar so maybe I’m wrong, I think. But then, in the words of Kumi who’s on with me tonight, it’s disgustingly busy. We have him and me on the bar, and Dru the boss also there in case things take off. And we have two new girls in the restaurant. When we get hit, we get hit hard. And of course, understandably, every now and then one of the girls doesn’t know how to do something and, being the only one of the two of us on the bar who knows the restaurant, I have to take care of all of that. We’re essentially working at full on sprinting pace for about two and a half hours. When it all really calms down around 10pm I do a little mock collapse all the way to the floor. We of course now have a chat about what the hell all that was about. In the rush, we didn’t have time to ask any of the customers what was going on. I’m convinced there’s an event in town which means they’ll be back once it’s over.

Kumi, who’s big into his music, decides he doesn’t want to think about that possibility and goes and puts on some Marvin Gaye. Appropriately, the first track is What’s Goin On? and I give him all my wonderment about the bassline. Last year I tried to transcribe it, only I decided to do it in dots which I wasn’t too familiar about either. I thought it would be a good dot reading/learning exercise. I did a ton of work on it, left it for a few days and then came back to go to the beginning to play it through and pick up where I’d left off. It turned out I couldn’t read anything I’d painstakingly transcribed and felt like I had to start the whole thing all over again which I just couldn’t bring myself to do. Pencils and other bits and pieces almost went flying all over the room but I caught myself just in time for that little drama. I think it’s one to get back to sooner rather than later now I think of it. While I have this little recent memory, Kumi has something else – how the song morphs into the next track, What’s Happenin’ Brother, which he says is simply an incredible moment of music. He puts the song back to the beginning so we can appreciate the full wonderment of the two songs going into each other. The bar is a beautifully relaxing ghost town now so we can do this. But with the modern world of downloads and singles, when the song finishes, there’s a pause before the next track which completely kills the effect. We’re both really disappointed but yes, I can still hear it.

Chilling to this music but with a mild sense of bewilderment still in the air at the shift we’ve just had, we start to half close down the bar to make the final take down and clear up all the easier. The boss has wandered down again and all of us are just calmly getting the job done. Then it happens. Just after 11, the doors start to open again and the trickle becomes a stream becomes a mob. Before we know it we’re right back to where we were a couple of hours ago. All I can think of is the scene in Zulu when the British have heroically fought off the hordes again and again, only to see them appear on the horizon once more.

In the time I’ve been there, my busiest shifts were, 1: New Year’s Day which left me in such a come down that I was practically unable to speak for the last half hour after it was over, 2: a night on my own in the restaurant when there was a Forum gig on no-one knew about. The bar staff were so over-run they were unable to help either, and 3: tonight.

This is what happened. We knew Chelsea were in the Champions League tonight. We had the game on, but on silent as we’re not a football pub. Upstairs we had the very popular weekly quiz. But then, to the right of us we had a sold out gig at The Forum – Interpol I learned in the second hit. Not only that, there was another sold out gig not far to the left of us. In other words, we were right smack bang in the middle of a perfect storm.

Day 140

Wednesday, February 18

I recover from last night and get back to drilling PP songs. Then I’m in work as scheduled tonight and it’s busy but can’t come close to last night.

Day 141

Thursday, February 19

The daytime is pretty much the same as yesterday. With more emphasis on some of the parts I’m having more trouble remembering, especially rhythms. Then I start to make sure I know all the first notes of all the songs. As for songs we play in slightly different keys, rather than retuning the bass to play along, I just play along where I would be on the fretboard with the band with the sound of the bass turned right down. I’m fine tuning things at this stage. Which is a good job too because tomorrow, my friend Paul is coming for the weekend to see the band. Yes, that Paul. The one I’ve known since childhood and who essentially got me the job in my first company in London which got this whole thing started in the first place.

Before all that, it’s yet another very busy day in work. Maybe I’ve been helped by the Tuesday experience I don’t know. I’m in the restaurant on my own tonight and, for the better part of two hours there are only four tables unoccupied. But I manage and everyone gets what they want without hopefully waiting too long. There’s actually a customer in tonight who was there on my first night and has been pretty regular since. He says he’s really seen my development but that it was really clear tonight. I like to think that it’s my having this attitude which is reflecting on the management’s attitude towards me taking time off for what I’m really trying to do. What I’m particularly grateful for is that one of the new bosses, who met me for the first time when I said my foot meant I couldn’t work, is there tonight. If her first impression of meeting me wasn’t a great one and I said so at the time, her second impression is of seeing me in action tonight on a proper busy one and dealing with it. I’ll take that.

Day 142

Friday, February 20

I’m off work today but I go in to wait for Paul who’s on his way from his hotel down the road. The first person I see is the new/ stand-in boss who says she was very impressed with how I handled last night. Reassuring to hear thankyou very much.

Paul arrives, we order lunch and Dan, the singer/songwriter barman who I may well do some stuff with at some time stops by for a chat while the bar’s quiet. Paul, who has it big in his head that I’m a bit of a clumsy bugger asks Dan if he’s noticed the same traits. “Apart from the foot burning thing, no not really,” he says. “Oh come on,” Paul replies. “You mean he doesn’t drop glasses all the time?” I jump in now. “Two. And one of them just exploded because it was hot.” “Yeah, seriously,” Dan comes in again. There’s hardly anything I can remember.” At which point, with not a single distraction around him, he drops one of the three glasses he’s holding and it shatters all over our table. That one’s going to keep me and Paul going all weekend.

Lunch finished and glass smashing over, we head into Camden. The plan is to go to Jongleurs comedy club tonight then go and see a band we both know well from Cork who just happen to be playing down the road in Holloway. A fun trip around Camden market, which resembles a high class fairground foodzone, is followed by a swing-by Jongleurs to get tickets. Here we discover that there is one Friday each month they don’t have a show. And guess what Friday it is. So instead of that, we decide to play tourists and get the tube into central London to get a few selfies at as many major landmarks as we can manage. Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Leicester Square, Big Ben, The London Eye and a few more all get the treatment. After all this, we don’t get lost. We just don’t know where we are for a while. So I insist we nip into the Tube and get back to the familiar surroundings of Leicester Square. Once there we have a look around for something out of the box to do.

Paul sees it. A casino. Life choices aside, I’m not a gambler and never been in one before. Paul, who likes a flutter and who plays the odds pretty well, just can’t pass this one up. “Oh come on Mark,” he says in a tone of excitement. “We have to do this.” OK then. First, we ask the doormen if we’re not too underdressed but they assure us we’re fine. So we’re in. For me, it feels more like walking into a highclass hotel. Past reception where we’re ordered some kind of free drinks pass. We pass. Then to the bar for a pint then a wander of the floor. There’s activity everywhere. I’ve long ignored the Hollywood depiction of casinos and have seen them as depressing places full of desperate, depressed people making themselves more desperate and depressed by the wheelspin. This is nothing like that. Every roulette pit is so full you can barely see what’s going on. Just as well because I don’t remotely understand them. Paul suggests Blackjack. Ah. I do understand that.

We find a table. £50 minimum bet. No thanks. The next one. £20 minimum bet. Same. We’re getting into quieter corners now. We find the £10 minimum table. There’s also a five but we don’t want to go all the way to the end of the line or we’ll find ourselves playing on the penny waterfall. I’ve already decided. I’m giving myself £20 maximum to play with and once that’s gone, it’s gone. A friend of mine once went to a casino with that attitude. She played two card games and in about a minute, her casino experience was over. I hold back while Paul buys some chips and settles down to play. He ends up splitting a bunch of hands and has all his chips on the table. With only 20s in his wallet, he asks me for a loan of a 10 to continue the game. I give it to him and he wins. With that, he pays me back with a £10 chip. Oh well. I guess I’m in now. I sit down and join in the game. Paul to my right, a complete stranger to my left. Twist, twist, stick. I win the first hand. I now have £20. I do something similar and win the next one. And the next, the one after that, that one too and then that one. Six hands in a row. In about the average length of a hit song, I’m £60 up and Paul’s up 40. The casino aint gonna fall tonight but that’s good enough for us. I announce I’m out of the game, Paul follows, we cash in and go and get some ridiculously expensive central London casino cocktails. I’m absolutely buzzing and tell Paul that I’m completely aware the worst thing a gambler can do is win first time out. “Enjoy it,” he says. “You could play everyday for another few months and not win six times in a row.” Very content with this nice little addition burning a hole in my pocket, I have absolutely no desire to lose it trying to keep the run going. It’s time for us to leave. We have a band to see.

On the tube we get to Holloway Road and off to see Irish cover band Blue Moose. This is a nationally touring band who occasionally hop across the water and, I believe, into some of the inner reaches of the continent. So Paul, who manages bands in Ireland for a living, comes to London and ends up seeing a band he knows from Cork. I’ve seen them a few times myself. We get to the door and are asked for ID. Now, 18 year olds hadn’t been born when we were 18 and Paul has a bit of trouble getting his head around being IDd – how the hell are you supposed to spell that anyway? I explain to him that it’s not an age thing, it’s an if trouble gets started inside thing. I’ve seen it around Camden. The ID thing, not the trouble thing. Although give it a little time and I’m sure I’ll make it a full house. ‘But we know the band,’ I say, as if that’s going to cut any ice. Anyone can say that. Paul does it with a little more style. He actually namechecks a few members. Not only that but the manager too and says he’ll call him and ask him to come out if Mr Doorman wouldn’t mind. Mr Doorman doesn’t quite know what to do with this information but the boss turns up and helps him out by letting us in.

What follows is an education in how to play covers to a packed house. Everything about it is polished and big. It is really big. But at the same time it all feels spontaneous. In my cover days in Ireland I’d go out and have a look at some of the big boys. A band leader I worked with made it his business to get us all together every now and again to go and see how it was done. Some of the bigger ones left me cold as it was so clear they were playing that song for the hundredth plus time and, the next night, every note would be in exactly the same place again. Even with all the smoke, mirrors, shapes and smiles, I still felt like I was looking through the windows watching some of these guys at work in the office. Blue Moose aren’t anything like that and I enjoy their set in a way I really didn’t think I would.

But as I’m watching the show, I’m thinking, ‘Paul’s going to be seeing my band tomorrow night and the last gig he’s seen before that is this one.’ Oh dear. We’re going to be directly compared with one of the best in the business and so far, the bass player’s so far only done one show with them. This should be interesting. The band finishes and we make our plans to go home. I thought Paul would have wanted to stay and have a bit of a catchup with them but they’ve given him a few salutations from the stage and that seems to have been enough. I’ve scoped out the nightbuses from here but we dispense with that and taxi it. Now we’re going to get together sometime early afternoon tomorrow. I wonder if I’ll be able to get some last minute preparations in.

Day 143

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Saturday February 21

I do indeed manage to put in a whole solid hour polishing off a few more tunes for tonight. Paul actually calls during it but I tell him I’m going nowhere until I’ve finished my two practice sessions. He’s happy to have a wander about by himself until then. When I’m done, I call him and he’s at my local at the end of the road. The Assembly House. I turn up just before 3pm and we have a few drinks and keep in touch with the footy until we’re joined by my housemate Gavin just in time to see Man city’s destruction of Newcastle. With that all sorted out, I go to get my gear for tonight, head back to the pub, then me and Paul are on our way. He tries to get Gavin to come along but he decides to wait till we’re playing a little closer to home. I know the band does do a show or two in Kentish Town so he’ll get there I’m sure.

Now I’m getting ready for my second gig with the boys and there’s Paul all expectant. This bar’s a little bigger than last week and we’re even on a proper stage which is a plus. It’s what I would call a decent sized and shaped football pub. Even as we begin soundcheck Paul’s giving me the thumbs up although before we start, he says, ‘I didn’t expect you to be in a terrible band to be fair.’ Then we kick off and blast through the first half of the set during which I really feel assured as all those hours of shedding between the last gig and this one really pay off. Three songs in and, not only do I relax a little but it feels as though the band relaxes round me as well and we start to have fun with it. Craig also looks back my way a few times and gives a good solid wink of encouragement.

We get to the interval and Craig’s the first one to come up to me. ‘Last week, a bit ropey to be fair. This week, you’re really on it. Well done.’ I even get a pat on the back from the drummer – my first. I really don’t think he dishes them out that easily. Then Paul’s there. ‘That’s a fantastic band you have there,’ he says. ‘Maybe not the same level of staging, but musically every bit as good as what we saw last night.’ Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. And me and Paul really don’t sugarcoat things with each other.

Now all I have to deal with is the interval. I really don’t like intervals. I don’t like bands taking them and I don’t like taking them. But this band does so I’ll roll with it. Even playing football and rugby, it was something I always had a problem with, even moreso if I was playing well. You see, you spend all day focusing, get out there, do the business, feel good and in the zone and then all of a sudden you’re told to take a break. I’d be like, ‘I’ve got to go out there and do that again?’ That’s how I feel tonight. The other thing is, from an audience perspective it can be cool to go and hang out with a band after a show. What do you do with an interval? But there is one nice moment in there when a guy in the audience gets talking to me and asks if we could play Whiskey In The Jar. Funny. We were requested that last week too. In front of the guy, I call Craig over and tell him what’s just been asked of us. ‘I think I could manage it,’ I say. And I’m sure the other guys would pick it up pretty quickly. What do you think?’ To this, Craig says to the guy, ‘I’m not too sure mate. I’ll have a chat with the lads and see what we can do for you.’ Then he turns to me and whispers, ‘You dealt with that well.’ Smoke and mirrors.

As we start the next set, maybe it’s just a self fulfilled prophesy, but I start making errors all over the place. Well, probably not but that’s what it feels like. The first half was practically flawless as far as I was concerned but that focus has just disappeared into the interval vortex and I’ve got to get it back all over again. I wouldn’t say I know this set of songs any less than the last set but I just keep dropping notes, although missing notes isn’t noticed half as much as playing the wrong ones so that’s not so bad. I make it to the end of the set and over a beer after, Mark, one of the guitarists and the one who’s closest to my amp says he only noticed mistakes in two songs. I don’t tell him how many I noticed.

After all this, Paul gets talking to them individually. He’d asked me beforehand if he should hold anything back if he thought anything needed to be said and I told him no. I stay away from any one on one he has. And in the one time I do get talking with him and Mark, I manage to knock practically a whole pint over myself and completely derail the conversation. Mark’s (this one) reputation for clumsiness is restored and all is right with the world.

There are a few Preachers’ fans and followers there and I get introduced around. One of them says she’s not seen the band for a few months and wonders how I’m settling in. Craig tells her that’s only my second gig. Well, that just makes her evening as she can’t believe I’ve only played with them once before. I can because I know there are still a few things there that can be tightened up but I don’t do anything to dampen her enthusiasm. It’s been a good night, Paul’s impressed and that’ll do.

We help the band load the gear – Paul’s done it enough times so knows what he’s doing – and then we taxi it back again. I’ve got a 10am Omater rehearsal and then I’m working till close so we say goodbye in the taxi as Paul gets dropped off at his hotel and I continue onto home.

Day 144

Sunday February 22

I’ve been the first to arrive at so many Omater rehearsals. I’m sure you know the drill. Starts at 10. So I’m there at 10. By the time everyone’s arrived, said hi, set up amps, it’s 10 past or quarter past by the time rehearsal starts. I have absolutely no problem with that as long as everyone’s more or less on time which, to be fair, we are. After last night’s bits of fun I wake up quite late. Late enough that I’m not going to get to rehearsal by 10. But I don’t sweat it. I get ready as quick as I can, leave and arrive there at ten past. Everyone’s all set up and waiting for me. Balls.

Once we start, we really make good progress. The songs are sounding solid and confident. We’re short a guitarist who’s away and will be there next week but between the five of us we really knock out some good versions of changed around songs. Towards the end, we try a couple of newish ones. Or at least newish for us – Underground and World Of Pain. Both demand really physical basslines with a lot of fast movement. Underground is basically a riff covering C minor Pentatonic while World Of Pain covers three chords and scales which I exploit to the full. When we finish, Yannis, the guitarist, remarks, “You were all over the fretboard on that one.” After this, I jokingly plead, “Please don’t ask me to do that now again.” My fretting hand, it feels, has reached the limits of its stamina. But that’s rehearsal finished anyway. After the exertion of the show last night with me still only now probably starting to come up to full match fitness, this really is enough for one day. “You’re in training,” says Omater. Bloody hell. She’s not wrong.

Now it’s time to go to work. It’s strangely quiet for a Sunday. Most Sundays it’s impossible to get a table in here without booking and on other Sundays, only the luckiest, turning up at just the right time, manage to get a table. Today you and a group of your mates could have turned up at any time and been seen to. This continues into the evening and at 7pm Kieron, the manager for the day, says that one of us can leave if we want to. I get that long straw which means only one thing – Blues Kitchen.

I arrive and everything’s just getting cooking. House bassist Kes is one of the first people I see and he greets me enthusiastically. It feels quite a while since I last made it down. The second person I see is Sonny B. Walker, the old blues guy who congratulated me so strongly the first time I played here. That night, he said, “One day you and I are going to play together.” I’ve googled him and found platitudes such as ‘legendary bluesman’. Who wrote that and where it comes from I have no idea. But he certainly comes across as the total blues veteran and has the whole look and persona befitting it.

I buy him a pint and we have a little chat and he tells me why he likes my playing so much. “Many bass players go up there and they can play. But all they want to do is show how well they can play. You support the songs and do what a bass player should do. But when it comes to it, you know what you’re doing.” He repeats this last phrase a few times and says that he really wants to get something professional going live and he’d like me involved when he does. No problem Sonny. In the meantime, he just expresses the hope that he and I get to play together tonight. Kes is nearby and comes to chat. In doing so, he confirms that, among the sets he organises, one of them will include me and Sonny.

It’s a while before I go on so I go to the front and somehow find the same stool I was invited to sit on the first time I came here. It’s at a table just behind where the dancefloor starts with a great view of the stage and some convenient little spaces for my basscase to fit in. It’s not the first time I’ve found this favoured spot waiting for me. I think I may have found my own little bit of ground in the Blues Kitchen.

I get called up to play and then after I’ve played my first set of two songs, Sonny gets called up. He calls two numbers, a slow shuffle then a fast rock’n’roll blues number and comes right back to the stage to go mad and dancing with me as we just tear it up. His presence from the floor is big. On the stage with him, it’s unmistakeable. He finishes and I stay for at least three other sets. By the time I come off, he’s gone so no post show catchup.

I settle down to watch the rest of it, and out of nowhere I get a belt on the back of the shoulder. I turn around and no-one’s there. I turn back towards the stage and there’s Tre making his way up, looking back at me with a little glint. “I told you you’d see me around,” I manage to shout at him before he’s up and taking his place on the keys. So I’ve seen him play bass and drums and now he’s a keyboardist. But the real surprise is the next number when he goes to take up frontman duties. Man, he just has the whole crowd. And what a voice. He’s just brilliant and totally dominates the stage and the room without even trying. He has the whole place clapping and singing. This is not a Blues jam anymore. This is the Tre show. I realise now that he is simply the most charismatic and talented performer I’ve so far seen in London. He finishes the show and comes off and is greeted with handshakes and hugs by so many people. Then he comes over to me and gives me a big hug too. “Great to see you got out here,” he says. “But I can’t stick around. I have to get off.” Where, I don’t know but that was the whirlwind right there.

As things start to wind down, while people are milling around chatting, catching up and doing whatever else it is they do, I’m just having a chill on my own. Out of nowhere an older guy comes up to me and says, “Everyone else was getting all the applause tonight but you were my hero up there.”

The night’s not over. Time to go to the Elephant Bar round the corner which has become the late night spot of choice in Camden since our quieter option has stopped being late for a while. The Elephant is fun and loud. But it’s not really the easiest place to hang out and chat and make connections. It’s too packed for one. It’s not like a group of five or six people can shoot the crap. You just have to let yourself get caught up in the party vibe and rock it. So that gets done for a while with a fair amount of people from the Kitchen, including Kes and the mainstay Alan, then it’s time for a nightbus and home.

Day 145

Monday February 23

Aahh. Glorious Monday morning. Nowhere to go. No having to get up. Nothing to have to do. That is all.

Right. Let’s see how this goes. For the past few weeks I’ve either been too busy or too tired to do anything diary or SBL related. Any free time I have had I’ve spent drilling my new band’s set in preparation for my second gig with them which happened this weekend. I also hit a bit of a computer problem during my week in Madrid, not to mention that I think my body just about crashed in that week. Now I’ve finally got to sitting down at this again, last night I had a door slammed on the tip of the middle finger of my right hand. That is, to say, one of my picking fingers and, by extension, typing fingers. It was hit hard enough that a decent amount blood was dripping out the end of the nail and yes, I’m feeling it a little this morning. As I said, let’s see how this goes.

As far as bass work goes, the rest of the week is work, and when I’m not doing that, I’m just playing through the Punching Preachers’ set as much as I can. It’s time to nail it totally.

Day 149

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Friday February 27

My third gig with Punching Preachers tonight. It’s in O’Neill’s Muswell Hill. I check out where it is and it’s just a few stops on the Northern line which means it’s direct from Kentish Town. However, when I get off and start to walk, Google Maps has played a little trick on me. It’s a lot further away from the station than it looked and at one point I think I’ve gone completely the wrong way. But no. The road signs look all good and when I ask someone, he confirms I’m going in the right direction. Then I get my first sight of it from the outside. Bloody hell. It’s a church. It looks absolutely spectacular and huge and that’s just from the outside. When I go in it’s just breathtaking. The stage’s at least four feet high and is probably where a pulpit would have been and from there you’re looking out into a cavernous space with a second balcony level above the bar at the far end.

We get started and the first set we have quite good crowd but they all stay at their tables and it’s polite but enthusiastic applause even though we’re up there and giving it. From my point of view though, it’s all about just playing the set right and I’m happy to say I manage that, hitting every cue, every stop and start and every change. It’s feeling good.

When the second set starts, the crowd goes through something of a sea change and all of a sudden we’re playing to a full dancefloor and looking out into a mass of people upstairs and down. Craig leaves the stage and plays the full area. So much that for a short while I can’t even see where he is. Sex On Fire and everyone’s getting a go on the microphone. When he’s not up on the stairs in the middle lording it over the whole proceedings. As we continue this mid song jam, Mark turns to me on stage and says, “We’re going to be here a while.” But eventually Craig launches us into the finale which we finally hit to a roaring crowd. We fly through the numbers and, by the time we hit the encore of Johnny B Goode, it feels like we’re in a movie. From my point on the stage, with the lights flashing, the snare pounding like a gunshot and the guitars wailing the dancers into submission, I can almost see the changing, swinging camera angles and it feels like I’m right in the centre of it despite my position on the far left of the stage. We finish and the crowd’s still screaming for more. We debate continuing but Matt calls it right. “Leave ‘em wanting more.” It’s a cliche but totally true.

Through the takedown, Mark tries to give me a debrief on my performance but finds he has nothing to say. “There was just one song where you seemed a bit lost on the stabs and rhythms, but that’s our own version of it so there’s no way you could have prepared for that.” He’s talking about Long Train Running. “So apart from that, as far as I could see you had it.” “I’ve basically sacrificed my bass development to just get this set down,” I say. “It definitely shows,” he answers. “A lot of work there and it came out tonight.”

As we’re talking and packing up, Craig comes up to us. “Lads, the guy who books for all the O’Neills in London was here tonight and he’s going to put us on their whole circuit. That’s more than 20 venues around London.” That helps the taking gear out in the cold to the van a little easier. This also comes at a bit of a rest period for the band as well which makes it not a bad punctuation mark. They seem to realise there and then that, with a few people away, we won’t have another gig now until April. So with that, there are calls for us to use that time to really start adding to the set. We don’t even have a Patrick’s Day gig because the bar that booked us then decided they wanted a full on Irish band, which this one definitely isn’t.

Goodbyes done and I go to the bus stop I’d scoped out earlier. I’d seen it went to Archway which is where I go for my library so a manageable walk. Now I see it goes all the way to Kentish Town, right to the end of my road. No odyssey getting home tonight.

Day 150

Saturday February 28

Now I have The Punching Preachers’s set under my belt, I do feel ready to start getting back into all the bass learning I was doing before I devoted all my shed time to their set. Actually, without me even saying anything about this, I did overhear a conversation between the guitarists the other day and one of them was saying that he felt he wasn’t growing as a musician because he was concentrating on covers all the time. I once heard a similar thought from a member of a famous band – it may have been Snow Patrol. The gist of it was that when he came off tour, he felt he had to learn to play the guitar all over again because, although he’d been playing everyday, it was the same songs, the same chords in the same positions. So I guess this is a trap I have to be careful not to fall into. Well, now I finally have the time to start developing my bass skills again, where to start? I’ve missed so many SBL lessons and Bass Hangs and am ridiculously behind on the courses. Not to mention other areas of improvement or growth I may have already earmarked for myself. The stage is set for a marathon world class procrastination session inspired by option paralysis. This is the same condition that causes you to miss just about everything at a music festival because you just can’t decide which show to go and see. Or you go the other way and try to see everything and catch the first five minutes of that set, the last five of that one and so on. I have been writing lists of things I’ve been wanting to start work on recently, and also fine tuning that to especially focus on the top one which has become something of a minor obsession of mine – modes and the modes and chords within them. I feel this is a simple project to grasp but with a huge, almost never ending scope and a way to fully feel the bass beneath your fingers. But I don’t end up working on that today. Instead, with The Blues Kitchen featuring bigger and bigger in my consciousness, I aim for a Scott lesson on Blues Soloing from the second Ask Scott. It’s one I’ve been meaning to go to for ages so today’s the day. When I finally finally get down to practice, this inspires me to dig out some guitar backing tracks and just go mad either soloing or playing elaborate blues basslines. At least it breaks me out of the mold of learning rock covers.

With something of a direction achieved there, my thoughts turn to the evening. We were supposed to have a gig tonight but the place closed down. With me having booked the night off work for it, it’s a very rare night off. The only jam session I know of is Troyganic which is a jazz jam. I don’t feel ready to start tackling jazz jams again just yet so that’s off the table. There are one or two bars I’ve heard about that I’ve not got to yet. Maybe tonight could be an opportunity to check them out. The procrastination continues. It seems to have swept over me today like a fever. I have a Skype call with my whole family who happen to be at my sister’s house along with her one and three year old boys. I get talking about tonight and she tells me to just put a film on and chill. Now, this is a girl who’s very mantra is up and go. With her telling me to take it easy, the die is cast. Especially as I am tired and really don’t feel like going out tonight. The procrastination continues but now I’m saved by the weather. It’s cold and raining. I’m generally not one to let weather put me off my plans. When I lived in Ireland, I refused to let the weather know that I knew it was even there. If you live in that country and don’t want to go out in the rain, you’ll never go out. It was a very rare rainstorm that diverted any plans I had. But thinking about it, if I’m to go out to a musicians’ venue, I’m going there hopefully to meet some people. I bet they’re put off by this crappy weather, or at least a fair few will be. The decision’s made. I’m going nowhere tonight. As my sister suggested, it’s film night. Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes. Loved the first film. Been wanting to see this one ever since.

Day 151

Sunday March 1

Today starts with an Omater reahearsal at 10am with everyone there bar backing vocalists which is absolutely fine. Bottom line. Everyone knows the songs and we even start to change some of them up a little spontaneously. There are some hugely fun improvisation moments and we’re generally feeling pretty good about it. We don’t get to every song though because we still take the time to get the ones that we get to right. Next week I have the London Bass Show to go to but I don’t have to say anything about that because someone else can’t make it either so it’s decided no rehearsal next week. Instead, we’re going to aim for the following week and, after that, try to get some gigs on the table. I say that we shouldn’t wait until after that rehearsal to start booking. We know now that we’ll be ready. Booking can now be put up as a priority. Omater and the others agree. We have a plan.

After that it’s straight into work and straight into chaos. But with an extra pair of hands now on board, things get straightened out relatively quickly. At half past seven, I’m told the kitchen’s shutting down early for maintenance. Which means I can get away early. Which means Blues Kitchen. I know it will still be nearly 10 before I get out of here and then touching 11 by the time I get myself organised and actually arrive. I’m not expecting to play but it will be enough just to keep myself in touch with everyone there. I go home, get my Oystercard, come back for the bass just in case and take off.

When I arrive, a set is just finishing. Not only that but the first person I see inside the venue is Kes. “Ah. Perfect timing mate,” he says. “Do you want to go on now?” Bloody hell. OK. I run downstairs to the toilets – it’s my thing. I really don’t like playing bass with grotty hands. I always have to wash them before playing, even at home. Strange though. Halfway through a gig there’s sweat everywhere and I rarely think about then although I do make sure I have a glass of water with ice handy and a hand ice rub does happen from time to time. I run up from the toilets, make my way towards the stage and Kes has communicated the message up there to Ed. “Can we have Mark on bass please?” I get up on stage and I’ve not even stopped walking since I came in the venue. My jacket’s still on, I still have my backpack and my bass is still in its case. Everything gets sorted out there and then while musicians are getting ready around me and the crowd is watching.

After that it’s just a really rocking set. I think I play four sets. One of them is with one of the house musicians who comes up and does a few really up tempo numbers with just me and a drummer.

Then Alan gets up, who I’m seeing more and more of a kind of senior statesman of the scene. He’s certainly a calm yet authoritative presence on stage and he knows what he wants from his musicians and he expects to get it, even in a jam session. I play a song with him and then we have a singer. But oh dear. She’s come with a fixed idea of the song she wants to do and only one person up here knows it. Not only that but it’s a real change-abouter. She keeps insisting she wants to do it and the guitarist and keyboard player to my right keeps insisting they don’t know it. And then I have Alan to my left who says he knows it but it’s not a good one to have people following along to. As this drags on and on, with the crowd getting restless and Ed asking us to just get on and play something, I whisper to Alan that I’m sure I could follow him. Apart from that I keep my mouth shut and stand back. Ed comes up and explains to the girl that this is a jam session and not a live version of Karaoke. Well, he doesn’t use those exact words but that’s the point I take from it. Then he uses the words I’ve heard a few times at jam sessions and never means that things are going well. “Guys, will you just start something.” Around about now she now starts to say that maybe she should just leave the stage and let Alan take over. I have no idea how long we’ve been at this. At the very least the length of a long song. I’m really trying hard to ignore the increasingly restless audience in front of me. The place is packed. Now she mentions Son Of A Preacherman as an alternative and I say I know it. I don’t say that I haven’t played it for so long that I can’t remember the bass intro but I think I’ll know it once we get started. But for some reason we don’t start that song either and the talk continues going on about what I don’t know and eventually we’re back at her original choice. I have no idea what it’s called but Alan calls it and we’re in on him. Here we go.

Alan takes a few moments to show me the form. Yes, it isn’t that easy followable but I’m able to grasp it and, while watching him play through the first few times, it starts to make sense. The others get on board too and, after all that, we’re away. I can’t say I don’t stumble once or twice but maybe the others do too. Then the girl starts. Wow. She’s really good. But really, apart from her opening which I concentrate on purely out of curiosity, I really don’t notice her for the rest of the song. A few runs through in and Alan has stopped calling the changes to me and is just indicating them. I give the nod more and more that I’m on it and then he relaxes, eases off and leaves me to it. We’re in it now but I’m still concentrating more on what I’m doing than what’s going on around me. I’m only playing root notes and the most fundamental of rhythm just to keep the thing going so I’m hoping I can just hold onto that and not worry too much about anyone else – just as long as I keep my around senses enough to catch a stop if one is to happen. It doesn’t and eventually we make it to the end of the song. There are a few moments where I start to improvise around the changes but I hold myself back. Just get it right. That’s all that’s needed here. The girl finishes her moment in the spotlight and it seems she’s done very well. However, she decides not to stick around for another number as Alan prepares to take over. As she comes round giving everyone a kiss, including me, I try to persuade her to stay and maybe do some harmonising but I think she’s had enough. She leaves to a healthy amount of applause and we kick into it practically straight away, this time with Alan on a strong and steady lead.

As I’m up there watching the toings and goings below, I see our girl. She’s behind the bar now. Oh. I never knew that. She’d had a break and come up from there to have a go in the spotlight and now she’s back at work. Nice one.

When I’m done, I head back down into the crowd. Among the wellwishers down there is a Spanish guy with a metal crowd of friends and I reply to his words in Spanish which he’s delighted to hear. We have a little Spanish chat for a while and he invites me to join him and his friends at a table at the centre, just behind the dancefloor. I now finally have somewhere to sit, have a drink and relax. When I go to the bar to grab my first drink after a long day, I bump into Ed. “You learnt that song on the fly and just kept hold of it. Very impressive,” he says. Thankyou very much. “And now you have another song.” I enthusiastically agree with him but I don’t really. The paradox is that I was concentrating so much on the changes and getting through it that I’ve already all but forgotten them.

I watch the rest of the show and then just as it all ends, in walks Kieron. He said he’d come after work but you never know how closing that place will go. But yes, he’s made it in time to have a drink here and then come along to the next place. I introduce him to Kes who has a few nice things to tell him about my bass playing but I’ll leave them where they are. As they chat, it turns out they know a few of the same people which is hardly a surprise. But what it does mean is that when we hit the Elephant’s Head later on, Kieron’s already almost a part of the group. And, seeing as we’re right in his comfort zone here, maybe they’re part of his.

Day 152

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Monday March 2

I have a day off today. I have a late enough start and then a few errands to run including a spot of shopping. After that, I plan to have a good think about what I’m going to work on next then hit the shed. After that, I’ve decided I’m going to go and play at Aint Nothing But.

My little bit of shopping takes me by The Oxford. Kieron had a good natured dig at me a few days ago because he saw me walk by and not pop in and say hello. So once I’ve stocked up, I decide I really should go in and say hello. He asks me if I want a pint but I say no thanks, I have things to do. I really am just coming in to say hello because I didn’t the other day. It’s an in joke and we have a laugh about it. Then I go to say hello to the chefs, Steve and Marco, simply because I’m there and it would be rude not to. For some reason, they have a burger and chips there that hasn’t been claimed. Maybe the customer left, or whatever, I don’t know. But they say it’s mine if I want it. Can’t say no to that. So because that’s happening now, I go to see Kieron and tell him, thankyou, I will have a pint now. Burger, chips and pint done and I go back to the bar to have a quick chat, say goodbye and get on with things again. This time Kieron hands me another pint. Customer didn’t want this one either. Or whatever. If I want it, it’s mine. Thankyou very much. Would be rude not to. So that’s happening now. I stay and chat with him and the other guys for a while and then the clock gets on a bit. It really is time to go. Thankyou very much again guys but I have a jam to get to.

I’ve not even done any shed work today. That was on my agenda for when I got back from town but no time for that now. But I do have a quick look at SBL and see Scott’s left some video feedback for me from the one thing I’ve managed to get up in ages of my own playing – a rehearsal jam of some new Omater songs we did last week. Well, new for the rest of us. I’d asked for thoughts on repetitions of basslines. In a particular song, should I stick to an established pattern or should I really mix it up each time? He has no doubt I should establish a line and just play it through the whole song practically unwavering. He says this is something Abba’s drummers did, often being instructed to play the same fill each time. “Go and listen to some Abba,” he says. Now, here I am at the beginning of my next part of bass development and I’m really leaning towards finally diving into the world of jazz having flirted with it for a while with SBL and here’s Scott, the jazz jedi bass master, now telling me to go listen to Abba. Brilliant. So yes, I do take a little time there and then to play a couple of Abba tunes and see exactly what he’s saying about the drum patterns. I don’t have time for much more though. It’s time to leave.

Just as I go to pick up my bass, I suddenly remember that Aint Nothin But has a house bass hung on the wall behind the stage. Then I look at my hardcase, all big and chunky and remember trying to manoeuvre it around a packed Aint Nothin But before and decide it just doesn’t seem like a good idea tonight.

What a great call that is. I get there and the place is absolutely rammed. Front to back. I can barely get me through let alone a huge brick like bass case. And then where would I keep it? I really think if I’d turned up with that tonight I would have just had to have turned round and gone back home. They’re in between sets so I’m able to go up to the stage and introduce myself to Olly again. He remembers me and puts my name down straight away. The night has the potential to be big. This mass of people isn’t sweaty yet but just give it time.

I get called up after about 20 minutes and go and play three sets. The house bass feels absolutely fine. I’m able to adjust the strap to get it to more or less the length I feel comfortable with and after one song playing on it, I don’t really think about it anymore. However, for some reason I can’t hear the bass up on stage so well tonight and ask Olly about it. Yes, it’s coming out fine and big out front but for some reason, not so much up here. I play two sets of two songs, after which the rest of the members of the ‘bands’ get changed around. But me and the drummer remain. I don’t catch his his name even though we try to introduce ourselves in the mild chaos of changeover. But we remember that we have played together before in The Blues Kitchen. For what turns out to be my final set, Olly gets up. To his right he has a guitarist called George and in front of him he has a girl who wants to do Summertime. I’ve never played this song before. Olly says that’s OK. He’ll talk me through it. We go through the changes a few times and once I get it I slightly start to relax. But no. New new changes start to get introduced in each pass until George looks over at me and mouths, “Where are we?” He refinds his place soon enough. Unlike last night, I never attempt to do anything but play root notes and that seems like it’s enough. As the song reaches its climax I have to concentrate more and more as new changes get introduced but we make it. As we’re exiting the stage Olly says, “Well held on that one. It really was different nearly every time.” And yes, for a while there, I was starting to think it could just have been me forgetting the structure.

I get a drink, mill around, mingle, chat to a few people I’ve played with before or tonight and generally just get into really enjoying the show. Alan, who seems to be a ubiquitous presence, gets up for his second stint of the night and delivers another solid set. During all this I get talking to a guy at the bar who introduces himself as Matt. I ask if he’s been out about town all night and he interprets that as me saying I’m out all night. “We are too,” he says giving me a high five. “You wanna come hang out?” Noooo. I wasn’t planning on that. I don’t know what to say to that but his friend rescues me coming over to replenish their rounds. After this I get talking to the friend too while Matt turns round to check out the music. Colin, the friend’s name is. After about five minutes, he tells me that Matt is a singer signed to Simon Cowell’s label Sycho. You never know if these things are true when people start talking but then, it would be nothing strange to be in a Soho bar and meet an upcoming singer signed to a major label. He asks what I do. I tell him I’m a bass player and give him my card which he looks at with some interest before handing it to his friend who takes it. He asks if I’ve been up. Affirmative. He asks if I’m going up again? A few guys in front of us turn round and ask me the same thing. No idea. But then, about 45 minutes after I finished Summertime, I do get recalled and Matt and Colin’s attitudes are like, “Oh cool. Our new friend is going up.”

I’m up there with George again and the ubiquitous Alan. And also another drummer I recognise now from seeing him here a few times. We play three songs, all with George leading and calling. Welcome To Grandma’s House which has some tricky changes which I eventually manage to feel comfortable with, a blues which only plays the one and the five which confuses the hell out of me for a while, and then a really upbeat funky blues number which we just hammer the hell out of. The two guitarists blister the stage with their solos while I pump out a fast and frentic bassline with the drummer just going crazy to the side of me while holding it all down at the same time. It’s a number that has the crowd bouncing and shouting out all through it. It peaks and troughs and seems to go on forever until we all seem to have no idea what we’re doing but we’re doing it anyway. When at last George calls out last time and we crash and cacophony to the end, the crowd gives up its biggest cheer of the night. We all think we’re going to carry on but Olly comes to bring up the houseband to close the evening. Well, a perfect place for us to finish really.

I go back to my new friends at the bar and Matt comes up to me straight away, talking about how much he loved it and how organic our playing was. Then he starts to say something else but it gets lost because Colin, for no apparent reason suddenly gets him in a headlock. Matt laughs but isn’t too happy that he’s just been interrupted in this way and manages to get himself out and come back to start talking to me again. Colin, who’s clearly very drunk now isn’t having any of that. He’s in full playfight mood or whatever it is and grabs Matt again. “Stop,” Matt shouts. But he doesn’t stop so Matt’s forced to muscle back, all the time asking him to stop, and before we know it, drinks are getting knocked over on the bar and people are trying to make what limited room there is for these two to sort themselves out. Security gets called, comes and the two of them are quickly shown the door. That’s not how I was expecting that particular conversation to end.

When things are calmed down, I go out and talk to the security guy who says that one was clearly more drunk than the other and one was clearly less happy with the situation than the other. But he confirms that they were playing rough rather than fighting, but says they were doing it in the wrong place around the wrong people who just wanted to have a drink and enjoy the music. Absolutely right.

After this, it’s all winding down and we get talking to a guy who’d just brought his friends here who are on a London visit from Canada. “They asked me where they could see some great music in a cool place and this is where I said it was happening,” he says. “Thankyou so much all of you for making me right. They’re very happy. With what all you guys have been doing tonight.” Then after this I’m sitting at the bar on my own for a little while when two other girls walk past, look at me and say thankyou as they walk out.

I’m thinking about heading home now but a few people have other ideas. No no no. Late bar time they insist. So I head off with three of the musicians from tonight to The Crobar, a metal bar in Soho which specialises in whiskey and canned and bottled beers. On the way we pass The Toucan Bar. I recognise it and I’m told, yes. That’s where Jimi Hendrix made his first ever London appearance. Once in the bar we continue to chat our amiable chats till I’m not sure what time which is when I decide to leave and head out into the streets of Soho and beyond. I head north until I make a rendezvous with a bus stop that will take me home. Once again, I’m very glad I haven’t brought my bass out with me. I arrive home sometime between 4 and 5am.

Day 153

Tuesday March 3

I’ve been thinking I need a project and now I’ve decided what it is. I think my achilles heel has always been my lack of jazz standards and now I’m finally going to make a concerted effort to do something about it. I’ve gone through some in the past with SBL and have been learning some of the jazz sensibilities such as modes, chords and chart reading. But now, after everything else, it’s time to really get down and build a repertoire. I think within that, so many of the other things I’ve been working on and want to work on will come into play. I’ve never really been helped by the fact that I’m not a huge fan of jazz music, or at least not a lot of the jazz music I’ve been exposed to. I’m sorry, but I’m talking about those sets when everyone sounds like they’re playing a different song at the same time. I really can identify with some of the quotes I’ve heard about it; Nigel Tufnell: “Jazz is just wrong notes.” Tony Wilson: “Jazz is the only form of entertainment where the people on the stage are enjoying themselves more than the people watching it.” Noel Gallagher: “They’re all playing a different song, all at the same time in different tempos in different keys. It’s nonsense.” That’s how a lot of it has sounded to me I have to say. But a certain Scott Devine has opened my eyes to what understanding and being able to play jazz can do for you as a musician and, especially as a professional. So while I don’t necessarily want to become a jazzer, I’ve realised that it really wouldn’t hurt to have the skills of one. I’ve also come to realise that, as much as I’m meeting great musicians at the places I’m going to, if I want to meet the real top line ones on a more consistent basis, I have to be in the jazz venues.

But where to begin? I’ve been through some of the SBL jazz songs. I can manage a few. Autumn Leaves and So What I’ve played through at varying levels of competence. Rhythm Changes I managed to work up a passable version. Oh, and Blue Bossa. One or two others I’ve read off charts and just about bumbled along and even managed a few jazz jams in Madrid, and that one by accident in London that I spoke about. But I’ve never built up a repertoire I’ve felt comfortable with and I’ve never gone to a jazz jam with any real feeling of confidence. So that’s the target now. To help me in that, I decide today to go hunt some beginner jazz tunes. I’ve been aiming before at maybe more intermediate ones. My reasoning here is that if I can go for the easier to learn and play jazz tunes first, I’ll build up a repertoire quicker than if I spend two months getting comfortable with something like All The Things You Are, which I actually managed to learn a few weeks back. Oh, and being able to play the songs I learn in different keys on demand as well. That’s something else I’ll be aiming at and something I think will be made simpler and quicker in the learning – and certainly in the live doing – by knowing a simpler repertoire to start with.

Having all this in mind, I do a few internet searches and come up with five standards that will form the first part of my repertoire to be added to the songs I’ve already mentioned once I get them back off the high shelf in the attic and dust them down.

Day 154

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Wednesday March 4

I start to develop my jazz project a little more in my mind today. Of course the ultimate jazz jam is Ronnie Scotts but one step at a time. I decide I’m going to aim to get myself in a confident position to walk into Troyganic again and take it from there.

Meanwhile, dilemmas are going on at work. Dru’s now left and changes are starting to happen. Among them, we seem to be getting fewer hours now. Things may settle but I’m not delighted with the way the wind’s blowing and I let my feelings be known to a sympathetic management ear. I’m not thinking about leaving the bar or anything like that, but I do think I’m going to have to get this music thing working for me sooner rather than later.

Day 155

Thursday March 5

This jazz project really takes shape in my mind today. I’ve mentioned Troyganic purely because it’s one of the most laidback jazz jams I think I’m going to find. But I’m just gonna get myself prepared and go straight to whatever jazz jam is going on, laidback or not. If nothing else, I’m sure it will make for good reading.

Today, is the first time I get hit by the reality of playing in two bands. Punching Preachers have booked a rehearsal for a week on Sunday. Yes, I know I’m normally with Omater on Sunday but it’s not been a regular planned thing. More a case of, “When can we get together next, guys?” And it’s just always ended up being on a Sunday morning. For this reason, I’ve not felt too bad about telling the PP guys, yes that’s fine as I’ve nothing else in the diary. But then I go get a text from Omater. “Next rehearsal, a week on Sunday.” Oh dear.

I call her and tell her I’m already booked. Of course she’s not too happy but accepts the situation. That could have been awkward.

Day 156

Friday March 6

Today I’m finally going to do it. Time to go get a soft case. I decide to take a trip to Denmark Street. While there I do the usual browsing and when I see a music book shop, I think, “Why not? Let’s go have a look here too.” Then I see what I don’t even know I’m looking for. A set of Real Books. Oh. I really can’t not. Buying one will totally cement my commitment to the jazz road and will also make it a whole lot easier to work with jazz charts; up to now, apart from the occasional print out, I’ve either had to write my own questionable chord charts or read them off a computer screen and that second one is never ideal.

Then I walk into a shop called Wunjo. The guys in there are very open and welcoming and, after confirming that they have what I’m looking for, I get to asking them about amps. Do they have anything that could play a rock gig but still be light enough to carry about the place? I’m not talking about walking all round town with the thing, but carryable enough to take down onto the Tube then up again to the venue without too much fuss. And maybe onto a bus or two. They introduce me to a couple of ridiculously light Fender amps which aren’t quite powerful enough but I get the picture of what the next level up might be, and then show me their Mark’s Bass amp collection. They don’t have the one I might be interested in – they have a really small one which would be great for a low level jazz gig, and then a fantastic big one which would play just about anything but you aren’t hustling it down any subway steps on your own. But again, I get the picture of what the in-betweeny would be. The one I would want is more than twice the price of the equivalent Fender amp but the guy makes a good point; “It’s worth saving up for a few extra weeks and getting the one you actually want rather than getting the cheaper one now and wishing later that you’d held out a little.” Great advice. When I’m really going to be in the market for an amp I’m not sure but now I know exactly what I’m going to go for when I am. To be fair, the Mark’s series has been high in my thoughts for a good while, ever since I used them in two jam different sessions in Madrid clubs, and for a couple of gigs in one of them. For the record, Sala Barca and Junco.

I walk out with my freshly bought softcase – I went for the mid priced on in a three way option – and past the first Tube station. I just fancy a little Soho stroll for a while and why not?

After this, I have plans to finally get to that bar I’m not naming tonight. I really just want to have look. Nothing more. Maybe speak to a person or two. When I’m done there, I’m going to go and jam at the Troy Bar so I’ll legitimately have my bass which will shortcut straight to the fact that I’m a musician.

The bar ends up being a little more out of the way than I thought. I leave home, go away from central London, past a few towns and down a dark dual carriageway. This leads to a tiny street of shops and there it is on the left. Red carpet, velvet rope and one doorman talking to a girl. I say hi and walk in. It turns out the girl is the barstaff because when I walk in, the place is completely empty and it’s about half past ten. Well, I have just come to have a look at the place so I’m getting a look at the place. I order a beer from her and a guy emerges from a sound booth to my left. As I’m the only one there, he comes and says hello. His name’s Roberto and it turns out he owns the place.

It isn’t huge but it is classy. We’re sitting at the bar just in front of the main door. To the left of the door and in front of us is the stage. You’d fit a five piece on it quite comfortably. Then to the left of that is a few cocktail tables. Roberto is hugely friendly and confirms what I’ve heard about this place. It is exclusively a musicians’ hangout. Generally people who play around London, most of them professional and a few of them fresh from touring with a big boy or two. They come here, plug in and play. Why is it empty tonight? A party cancellation I hear. I also hear that this is where members of Incognito choose to hang out and jam when they’re in town. It seems that if I was looking for the centre of London music cool, I’ve found it. And it’s nowhere near the centre.

I tell Roberto I’m the bass player in the backing band for a solo artist. A little jazzy fusiony with a pop sensibility. I also tell him how I heard about this place having played my way round a good few jam nights. But no he doesn’t know Dre – that’s his name, not Tre as I’ve been writing it. I ask Roberto about the possibility of a gig here and he suggests I come back to check the place out first. “See what kind of music we do here and the kind of musicians we have,” he says. “Get a feel for it, decide if you think you guys would be right for here and then if you think you would, we’ll see then.” Fair enough. I mean, I’ve just wandered in off the street, I have no recording and, as far as Roberto’s concerned, zero track record.

We hang out and chat for another 20 minutes or so. About music, about music bars, about the jams around town. During this I discover that their main nights are after midnight on Fridays and Saturdays which means I’ll be able to get here even if I’m working late. I have no idea what it is I said or is it something about how I act? I don’t know. But he suddenly says, “Why don’t you bring your band and come do a show here tomorrow night?” He says that a quirk in the bookings means that the stage will be empty and ours for the taking. He shows me around it. Where the inputs are, where the speakers are and so on. And there’s also a bass amp there so I won’t have to worry about that. He says we would do two sets of 40 minutes starting a little after midnight. The gig won’t pay but he says we’ll all have free drinks. For a first gig in a bar like this, I’ll take it and I’m sure the others will too.

Cool. I tell him I’ll make some calls and see if we’re free as this is quite extreme short notice but that’s the way these things can happen. A little aside. Back in my Cork years, a major local promoter also ran a bar. One night he had a very famous band in town and their support act fell through. The guy was in his bar when he heard. His was also a favourite spot for musicians and the musically minded. He looked around and there, having a drink in the corner, was the guitarist for one of the local hero bands. He was asked if he fancied the gig, said he did, got on the phone to his bandmates and that was that. The next night they were playing at one of the biggest shows of the year. Right place, right time and good mobile connection.

All I get is an answerphone which means I have to tell Roberto I’ll get back to him tomorrow. “No problem. Just let me know. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it. If you can, the stage is yours.”

So that’s it. I have a gig in one of the coolest venues in London. Now all I need is a band.

I can’t get hold of Omater so just leave a voicemail and tell Roberto I’ll let him know tomorrow. No problem, he says. Well, introduction to this venue made – I’m going to have to think of a name to call it if it coming here becomes a regular thing – I have to get going. I have a Troybar Friday night jam to get to.

So now I’m in Troy. The first thing I notice is that there are two film cameras, each equipped with huge bright lights. James says we have TV in tonight but what it actually is, I don’t know. I’ll actually say now that I neglect to ask which, for the purposes of the diary is probably a bit of a miss. Never mind. The important thing is that I make it onto the stage tonight which I duly do. As for how that goes, I think I’ve talked through enough jams, especially Troy jams so you know the drill. If something noteworthy happens, of course it will be mentioned but I don’t think I have to go through the full experience of every jam anymore. However, what is worth talking about here is how I fare in the full glare – literally – of TV (possibly) cameras. If you’ve ever met a really famous person, you may be familiar with this feeling. And I mean meet in that you actually talk to them for a while, not just a quick hello and autograph like in a signing session or some other equally brief encounter. It’s incredible how quickly you go from the first stage of, “Oh wow I’m talking to (insert name here)” to just chatting to them like you would any other person you’re meeting for the first time. And it feels totally normal. I guess unless we’re talking about someone truly iconic or idolised by you, but even then, I would risk saying it’s not much different. That’s what it’s like once I get up in front of the cameras. I really do forget they’re there as I just focus on what the band’s playing and on what I’m doing. I’m also please to say that I don’t go for it anymore than I would. I just, as you say, play my normal game. But then, I do think that a good trait of mine as a live performer is that I’ve always been able to ignore cameras and let the photographers just capture the natural shots they’re looking for, even when I’m aware I’m their sole focus of attention. So what do the cameras film while I’m on? What do they look at? What will they use if anything out of a whole evening of footage? I have absolutely no idea.

	Day 79 \| marks diari… on The Blues Kitchen’s 100…
	bassdiarymark on Day 14
	grand canyon helicop… on Day 14
	Steve on Day 89
	bassdiarymark on Day 71

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