Day 121

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Saturday April 30

Rehearsal at Dan’s and we really get into harmonies and a little more jazz today. Well, far from challenging but Buena Sera is a little more swingy than anything else we have and is another touch in a new direction as we continue to open the wings of the repertoire.

What’s really cool is how we put in the work with the harmonies. The main songs like this today are California Dreaming and, believe it or not, Mr Brightside. We have a few lines which we slow right down so that we can hear how each note we’re singing is working, or if they are even working at all; at full speed, you might only be getting away with it. Slow it down and everything is right there with no place to hide. No. Sounds good. Carry on. We also do a lot of acapella today, again to be able to concentrate on the harmonies and see if they really do sound as good and as tight as we think they do when the music’s playing. And also to direct each other and ourselves to notes we think will work. A lot of it’s still ad libbed but this process is definitely helping to get it tightened up and maybe, as we go, we’ll settle on definitive versions of what we’re doing.

That was so much fun, and sounded so good that, as soon as I get home, I realise I want to get started on the next bit right now.

Day 123

Monday May 2

Bank holiday means Blues Kitchen on a Monday rather than a Sunday. This is the first such one I’ve been to. I’m told by Kes that they’re generally quieter than Sundays but still good on the quality.

I’m arriving late – 10pm – because, footy fan that I am, I wanted to watch the Spurs Chelsea game which had the possibility to give Leicester the title. The game ends in a fantastic 2-2 draw and the whole of Leicester, and most of the country really, goes crazy. If you don’t follow soccer, or English soccer at all, yes, that little team you’ve never heard of has just won the Premiership title. At 5000-1 at the beginning of the season, a guy who I get talking to says it’s the highest odds that’s ever come in.

I leave that and it’s time to get to the jam. I arrive just after 10 which is the time I texted Kes to say I would arrive. We have a bit of a chat and then he says, ‘By the way, you’re on next.’ By the time the current set’s finished and I’m called up, I haven’t even had time to get a drink.

We play that set and it goes really well and as Kes comes up to introduce the changearound, he says, ‘I’ll be getting you on later as well.’

The later turns out to be Dre’s set like it was last week. The big finale to end the night. The place isn’t packed like it was last week and with this being the bank holiday, not the full house band either. So it’s a slightly different vibe but no less enthusiastic and it still all sounds fantastic.

We get to the solos. Dre calls each person out in turn. As usual, it’s variations of: ‘Give it up for [name] on [instrument].’ It gets to my solo. I decide to just rip it up this week and that’s what I do. I completely go for it, keeping the form of the song and I’ve never played this fast for this long in here before. It’s not all speed. I do slow down at times and lay down a bit of an establishing groove, but then I’m off again. I’m not entirely sure how much theory is going into what I’m doing. It’s just shred. I keep it safe enough so I know it all works. It’s just a ton of fast with a few slides and grooves thrown in. Then, as I work my way to the top of the fretboard, I hit a high high E and pause, holding the note. As the note rings out, this is now the only sound in The Blues Kitchen. I hold it for a whole bar. It starts to fade. Almost to silence. In these few seconds, I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do next. I didn’t even know I was going to stop until it happened. Then I suddenly kick in again. Building everything back into the song. As I’ve kept the form more or less, the band know what’s coming and we exchange glances to say, yes, this is nearly it. Almost time to come in. OK. Now. And we’re all in again. He does this with other people sometimes, but it’s still really cool when Dre jumps onto the mic and dramatically calls out, ‘His name is Mark McClelland people.’

There’s one main guy in here I haven’t played with yet. He pretty much only ever plays with the house band. Maybe a guitarist swapped here and there. But, apart from Kes, I’ve only ever seen one other bass player play with him. As well as being one supercool, in control dude, he’s blind and generally doesn’t hang around at the bar. If you want to talk to him, you go to his table and say who you are and have a chat for a while. I’ve introduced myself a few times and recently he’s been quite complimentary of my playing. Tonight, maybe with it being a little quiet, or just because he feels like it, I don’t know, he’s at the bar and hanging out with everyone. He and I get talking and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt fully engaged with him. There have been some nice quick chats before but usually it’s me stopping on the way out to say hello, and we’ve ended up talking for a little while. You know the type of encounter I mean, I’m sure. But tonight we’re just hanging at the bar and neither of us is going anywhere. He says a few nice things again and I have a few comments about his playing and his sets. He’s always in total command of the room and stage whenever he’s up there. Then he says, ‘You should play with me.’ This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned it but before it was more of a, ‘We should play together sometime.’ I didn’t mention that to Kes because I really see this as me going up when I’m called. If I end up playing with that guy or that guy, great. Or not. I know some people do make requests of people they’d like to play with and I know I get included in that sometimes. But I also know that the guys organising these things have enough to juggle around without trying to figure out who does or doesn’t want to play with who. So, for the most part, I tend to keep myself out of that and just go up when I’m called. There have been notable exceptions. When I took a band I’d just auditioned for there for example.

But now Mike shouts out to Kes who I hadn’t realised had yet joined the loose group at the bar. ‘Kes, I want Mark on bass with me next week. Cool?’ Yep. It’s cool. I assure Mike I’ll sit back and won’t go for it too much. He’s having none of that. ‘No. You do what you do,’ he says. ‘Go for it all you want. That’s what I want people to do.’

OK. So for the first time at The Blues Kitchen, I have a jam date.

Day 125

Wednesday May 4

It’s time for an originals rehearsal and another open mic with Dan. We know the songs we’re going to do so it’s round to his for a quick run through of them just to make sure then we’re off.

This one’s in The Elephant’s Head, a bar I of course know very well but I’ve never been to the open mic there. We’re met by Tony, the organiser and a whole ton of people signing up. We’re right in the centre of Camden so it’s no surprise to see that this is a popular one for performers.

Once it gets going, two other things become quickly clear. As well as performers, it’s very popular among just regular punters. Open mics are often just songwriters playing their songs to each other and then quite often leaving as soon as they’re done. So really, no-one’s interested in seeing anyone else but by that concept, they’re playing to a room that has no interest in seeing them either. Not only do most performers hang around here but there are a lot of people who are here just for the music and it doesn’t take long before it has the feeling of a real event taking place. The second thing I notice is definitely related to all this. The quality is really, really good. Great singing and great songs. If other open mic nights here are anything like this one then yes, it’s one for the punters and that, to be brutally honest, is a rare thing. Open mics throw up a lot of great, unexpected moments but understandably, a lot of people don’t think the trade-off’s worth it. I’ve willingly sat through plenty in the past knowing that in the middle of all the mediocrity, or worse, something fantastic will happen. But that’s just me. I have to own up now too and say I possibly have a little less patience for that now.

It’s not all polite clapping either. There are some truly spontaneous outbreaks of cheering that clearly isn’t just coming from friends and it’s very easy to get caught up in it. Also, for the first timer, there’s another thought. Bloody hell. Not only is the bar pretty high around here, you’re practically expected to jump it. Am I going to be good enough for this lot?

Me and Dan get to find out at about 9 O’Clock and, unlike our previous experience, this time the crowd hasn’t drifted away by the time we get on. He’s earmarked three songs to play. By the time we’re getting close to going on, we realise it’s two songs per act and a decision has to be made. He asks me what I think. I have no hestitation. ‘This crowd does not want to hear a slow love song right now.’ He agrees pretty readily so we go for the driving Intact and the more swinging, but still musically upbeat When Love Turns To This. We don’t get the high pitched all the way whooping that some acts got but the reception is still high enough in the register for it to be a success and plenty of people seemed into the songs while we were playing them. A good first outing here we think. Dan’s wife Saffy turns up just before we play and takes recording duties.

When we come off, I tell Dan he should try to come to this one as often as he can. Like the jam sessions, get yourself established in one. To get noticed, you need to show clear signs of support, that people know and love your songs. If you can rotate a few at one open mic night and build some kind of recognition for them, you’re on your way.

It continues around us and we hold our table near the front. Jenn comes out and joins us. She’s missed our set as we went on a little earlier than expected but there’s still plenty of the night to enjoy. Jenn does not like open mics. At. All. Purely for reasons I explained earlier. But I think it’s a bit of an endorsement to say that she likes this one. I won’t itemise each performer but it really is great fun all the way through and I decide that Tony, the host, is the best open mic organiser I’ve ever seen. He holds the sound down perfectly and completely keeps it about the performers. He also seems to genuinely enjoy most of them like a punter and, most importantly, he takes no nonsense but always in a controlled way. I’m sure you can imagine that an event like this on a busy corner in central Camden town needs a strong hand. He has it, but never overtly and that’s really good to see.

Afterwards I have a really good chat with him on the stage as he’s packing up. He tells me he’s looking for a new venue to do an open mic and I say I might just know one. I’ll be in touch if anything comes of it. If not, surely we’ll meet again at this one. I think it’s safe to say me and Dan will be returning.

Day 126

Thursday May 5

This is exactly how I feel when I wake up this morning.

I’ve got to be honest. Some days it’s hard to face getting on the phone or going out to drop in cold on bars. Some days I really don’t have it. When that happens, I just don’t do it anymore. The effort of going out and carrying on is admirable but if you’re properly off, it’s going to come through and you’re not just wasting time, you’re screwing up potential leads that you can’t really go back to again.

Today I’m on. Completely. I will sell this house today. I will sell this house. To. Day.

I’ve not been diarying all my calls and visits but this day is worth writing about, even if just to demonstrate how a typical day goes with this stuff. Yes, I know I’ve said that it’s better to visit bars than call them, but all the calls on this list are to bars that are at least in some way warm to the idea. Also, they’re all over the place so I think it’s best to set myself up in a control room (or bedroom) and, in the words of Leonardo di Caprio’s Wolf of Wall Street, pick up the phone and start dialing.

Bar visit. Contact not there.

Phone calls.

Contact on holiday.

Contact not there.

Straight to voicemail.

No answer at all.

Agency call, contact not there.

Exhibitions company. Interesting one this. They said they liked what we did and could have something in May. I’ve been trying to get hold of that same person for the past two weeks or so now to be told they’re away or in meetings or call back in a few days. I get hold of her today. Yep. They did need someone for that event. Yep. We would have been suitable. Sorry. We booked it. Balls.

We continue.

Call to a bar we played before to see about future dates. She’s on holiday.

Company call. Contact not there.

Restaurant call. They have live music and I’ve played there but I’ve no doubt they have a long list. Still, got to keep trying. Come on. All together. One, two, three…Not there.

The number I was given doesn’t work. There’s a surprise.

The next guy says he gets so many emails and can I please email him again. OK.

Not there times four.

Special mention in dispatches goes to this guy who I call somewhere in the middle of all that lot. He’s the bar manager whose house I was in back in November. He was saying he wanted to get us in his bar and, once he’d seen how we worked there, he knew loads of other places he’d be able to get us into. Quote. ‘Before you know it, you won’t be pulling pints anymore.’ The following week I was in his house again and he brought it up again. Quote. ‘I just want you to know it wasn’t drunk talk. I really mean this. We’re going to do it.’

A few weeks ago he spoke to Dan in the bar. All excited about getting something going.

He’s a busy guy and we’ve not always been able to talk on the phone. We do today. Quote. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m going to go ahead with this. At the moment it’s never.’ Wait wait wait. You came to me. Twice. This was never my idea. After stalling for five months on an idea you had, you now say it’s not going to happen. That pretty much falls into not cool territory. I don’t say any of this but when he asks how it’s going, I say, ‘A bit frustrating to be honest. Including this phone call. A lot of people are making very nice noises but very little is actually being laid down.’

Sorry to hear that, he says. I’m not going to fall out with the guy but I’m very disappointed with this. I may let him know in a bit more detail next time I see him. It could go something like this. ‘Remember you said it wasn’t just drunk talk? Well I’m afraid that’s exactly what it looks like from where I’m sitting.’

I get back to the calls. This next venue is one I’ve made a few calls to. It’s unusual in that I’ve never been to it but I managed to get something of a rapport going with the manager. On the verge of turning that into something, she left. Of course she did. But I got the name of the incoming guy and call him now.

My aim is just to see if I can send him something and maybe come down and talk to him about it all sometime. He thinks about this for a while. ‘How much do you cost?’ I tell him. ‘Hmm. How would you feel about playing immediately after England’s first game of the Euros? That could be done. He asks about posters and we talk a few more logistics things and that’s it. Goodbye and thankyou very much.

This is the 18th venue on the list. And ironically, apart from the one successful call, none of them were cold contacts.

I will sell this house today.

Day 127

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Friday May 6

I have another go at what I started yesterday. I’ll just leave you with the highlights.

A small chain of bars has followed us on Twitter so I figure there must be something there. I go to the head office website connected to their account and make the call. The guy who answers says he’s the manager of one of their bars. So this isn’t their head office number where I can speak to someone in operations who deals with all their bars. Balls. I soldier on anyway and make the pitch. He’s polite and encouraging enough though and says if I send him an email, he’ll forward it on to the right people.

One of the exhibitions companies thanks me for getting back in touch and suggests I remind them of our presence in September as they may be looking to get dates in the diary around that time. OK. That will be done.

A Canadian bar in Covent Garden, The Maple Leaf, expressed an interest a while ago to have us play Canada Day on July 1. Here’s some free advice. If you don’t mean it, you really don’t want to express any interest to me. Ever. No matter how slight. I will not let it go. Just say no on the first day, but even then that might not be good enough. This particuar venue has given me the slightest sniff and I think the time is about right to call and see if they want to go ahead with it. The phone gets dialled, then it gets answered, then a conversation happens. Are you listening Thursday? That’s how it’s supposed to work. They ask how much it would cost, I tell them. Yes. This is probably going to happen. They’ll call me back on Monday to hopefully confirm everything.

Day 128

Saturday May 7

A little bit more about that small fact that Leicester City have won the English Premier League title after only just escaping relegation last year. As lifelong Leicester city fan and former player, and general all round football legend turned TV presenter Gary Lineker said, still stunned after the fact, it’s actually impossible. As I said on Monday, the same price was being offered on Elvis being found alive. Just consider that today, Northern Ireland are 2500 to 1 to win the World Cup in 2018. So even that wouldn’t be as crazy as what’s happened here. I researched it a little and discovered, for American sports fans trying to figure this out, it’s as if the Philadelphia 76ers managed to become the top team in today’s NBA standings or the Cleveland Browns had the NFL’s best record heading into Week 12.

Today they play against Jenn’s team of Everton to be handed the trophy so it’s a special game we want to go and see. We ponder long and hard over venues to go to. I mention O’Neills in Muswell Hill. It has food and booths upstairs in front of a big screen. We’ve been meaning to go there all season and went one night to discover they didn’t have the channel we needed. Jenn’s eyes light up at the suggestion so that’s that decided.

It’s not really on my agenda to speak to Chris, the new manager here. Of course if he’s around I’ll say hi and have a pleasant chat but I know they can’t put music on for the foreseeable so I’m purely here as a punter. We just want to see this amazing afternoon of the season in a big and open, classy and vibrant setting. After the game, I have my first encounter with Chris when he rolls his manager sleeves up and comes to clear our table. You may remember it was him I sent information to about the Night Mayor and related proposals a little while ago. The one that, among other things, said venues shouldn’t have their music shut down just because a single local resident decides to get a bit moany. Especially when the music or music venue was there before they moved in. I tell Chris it’s exactly like someone moving into an apartment in Time Square and getting all the lights shut down because they complain about them. I once moved into a smack bang city centre area in Cork, Ireland. If you know it, the end of South Main Street where it meets Washington Street. Music bars all over the place there. I would no more have tried to get those places to quieten down than I would have called the council and ask them if they could do something about the wind. I moved into party central, so I went out and partied. The one night I did try to have a quiet, early Thursday night it didn’t happen. You know what you do if you can’t swim? You don’t go in the pool. I ask him if they’ve had any progress with their neighbour and he says, ‘No unfortunately. We still can’t have any bands with drums at all.’ ‘So just with drums?’ ‘Yeah. That’s why I couldn’t book your lot again unfortunately.’ Wait just a minute here. I think he had me confused with someone else, or maybe it was the Punching Preacher connection. I played here twice with them, the second time with nothing at all running through the PA to try to keep the noise down. Still no good. ‘Chris, my thing’s just bass and acoustic guitar. There are no drums.’ ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I must have got you confused with someone else when you called me. Give me a call on Monday and we’ll sort some dates out.’

Day 129

Sunday May 8

It’s been brought to my attention that when I first moved into the house I live in now in Kentish Town, I spoke about it a lot and about the fantastic Italians I lived with and the adventures we got up to. Then it got less and less then nothing about the house at all. Well it went like this. To keep it simple, first off we started having crazy neighbour trouble that I decided not to write about but it got quite dramatic with the completely unreasonable complaints they were making about our house. And they were totally crazy and it escalated. And it came to a head. And it got sorted out. Yes, I had something to do with that. The sorting it out part that is. Then, to uncharacteristically cut a long story short, the Italians moved out one by one. Three of them live together now a couple of miles north and I still see them from time to time. Other people moved in. Perfectly good people, just not as socially active. Not at home anyway. So it’s become more a place where not much more than polite small talk goes on.

Me and Jenn don’t do too bad in the old getting out and doing mildly interesting things though. We manage that today with a quick sunny Sunday walk to Dartmouth Park, another one of our local parks with a view overlooking the city centre. It doesn’t break any exciteometers but it’s a good opportunity to get some pics with the spectacular London skyline. Here’s one. I’m waiting for Jenn’s approval department to get me one of her as well.

At just four miles away, the centre is actually a lot closer than it looks in the picture. And if you could go slightly to the left of me, looming large you’d see Arsenal FC’s ground. It looks like a giant space ship that’s somehow managed to park itself right in the middle of a load of houses.

And here’s Jenn’s

After this it’s a leisurely walk to one of the bars on the Dartmouth side of Archway, meaning the nice side. It’s like that all over the place. Expensive area, cheap area. Sometimes with barely a distinction between them. But to be fair, you do know when you’ve left Dartmouth and crossed into Archway. This large family bar’s right on the edge of that. We get ourselves in the beer garden and avail of the offer on their menu that gets us fish and chips and a pint each for pretty much damn on half price what the same thing costs in The Oxford. See. Going out in London doesn’t have to be expensive. Just the one sunny pint and we’re off.

A little while later and I’m off to The Blues Kitchen for an unusual night given that I already know who at least one of my jams is going to be with.

I’m called up for the first jam of the night which ends up being two sets, the second of which gives a perfect demonstration of the job of the bass player whether anyone out front notices it or not. After the first set, everyone except me is replaced and three people I’ve never played with before come up. A drummer and double act of female guitarist/singers. They say they’ve been playing together for a while but have never got up to jam like this on stage before. They seem a bit uncertain about what they’ve got behind them and I can’t blame them. It must be nervewracking enough thinking they’ve got to do their own show now without thinking about what unexpected elements they might have to deal with. The drummer seems a bit uncertain too. One of the girls starts talking me through their first song. As far as I can tell, it’s just a straight twelve bar. But she’s anxious to get the rhythm across to me and the drummer. I tell him to just keep it simple and relax. We’ll be fine. The girls get started and we fall in behind. Not completely tight at first but nothing to worry about. I face the drummer and through good communication, we get a solid rhythm going that locks. After that, I just make sure we’re on the stops and starts with the girls and keep an eye on any changes while occasionally making sure the drummer’s alright. The girls seem to be happy with what’s going on now and get into their own thing and the drummer’s got this tied down. It’s what we’re here for. Next song there’s a slight change of pace as they call The Thrill Has Gone. They don’t really explain it very well but I know the song and catch onto the minor sixth quick enough. And it’s the same routine with the drummer although he’s a lot more confident this time round. When we get to the end, the reception is great and the girls are very happy with themselves and rightly so. They’ve done more than just get through it and I think they appreciate the contribution the two of us made in the background.

Once back on the floor, I take the opportunity to get hold of Kes when I can. I’m due to play with Mikey Christer later and he has a song he often plays that has quite a few changes in it. I’ve tried to find it online before but have never found anything like his version of it. Kes tells me and I think I’ve got it.

I don’t get the call to go up with Mikey. Instead, I’m already on stage having just finished a jam when he gets called up. He says hi and gets himself sorted out up there. Then we’re into it. Two songs that are just an amazing force of nature as well all slot into it effortlessly and just groove along as the dancefloor below us fills up. It ends and what a jam that has been. I’ve got through it and haven’t had to worry about that one with all the changes. But Kes and everyone else wants to hear more. So we’re not going anywhere. Mikey calls THE song and starts talking us through it. I think I’ve got it but I’ve got to admit I’m still a touch antsy. Just as he’s starting to get ready to play, Freddy McVintage pops up at the front of the stage and calls up to Mikey. He wants to come up and do one with us. Mikey’s absolutely fine with that so up he comes to claim the stage. I’m sure I would have been fine but there’s a definite feeling of saved by the bell. Freddie calls the tune and we’re all off again. It was already primeval up here but he’s another showman and the temperature gets raised another notch with a frontman up here free from not having to play guitar. But the time this third song finishes, it really does feel as though we’ve been part of an event. Classic. Quite possibly the best jam I’ve had in my entire time in London. The crowd is still rippling when Kes comes on stage to reclaim the bass. He’s closing the show with Dre this week. Brilliant. I feel our evening up here is done. And of course the last show is absolute killer as well and it’s great to be down on the floor for it and mixing with the punters who, a few minutes before were going mad for us. A few of them are drunk and a fair amount of stranger hugging action happens.

Once it’s all done, the social merry-go-round commences and eventually I find myself at a table with Mikey, Kes, Adam and Joe. The conversation turns to Scottsbasslessons. I think that should all be one word. Me and Kes get into telling the others how good it is and Adam, who’s a guitarist, has said he’s thought about going onto it purely for the musical value. Joe’s considered it too as, although he’s mainly a drummer, he does also play a lot of bass. Kes also says he can see the improvement in me here week on week and adds that he and the guys have commented on it. Cool.

After a while, I leave them to it and it’s Elephant’s Head time. As usual, a few of the guys have gone onto it and it’s a while since I’ve been. I get there and it’s the usual pantomime of being asked for ID. This place is well staffed by bouncers and they’re a strict and, for the most part, a pretty unsmiling lot. But not in an overt in your face way, at least not that I’ve experienced. I normally have ID with me but not tonight. I’m trying to tell the guy I come here all the time when the guv, Vince, appears. I look at him, as does the bouncer. He asks how I am then gives a discreet nod to the doorman. Thanks Vince. Later, he comes up to me and says, ‘That set you and your mate did in here the other night, well it’s up on our website.’ And he gives me a card to help me find it. Cool again. Thanks a lot.

Day 130

Monday May 9

I call Chris of O’Neills Muswell Hill and the first thing he asks me is if we could play this Friday. I tell him I’ll check with Dan and get back to him. While he’s got me, he wants to check a few more dates. No problem. There and then, we book a provisional date in each of June, July and August. One phone call. Four dates in the diary. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

I hit Aint Nothin But The Blues for the first time in quite a while and Olly, the main with the plan tonight, puts me on the next jam after the current guys finish. I catch up with a few people I’ve not seen for a while as well as one or two guys from The Kitchen last night. Nothing ground shattering but a good re-showing my face at this fantastic jam night bang in the centre of town.

I also check out The Elephant’s Head open mic link. You might have to scroll down quite a bit to catch us but I think this is just a good place to see what it looks like if you’re interested.

https://www.facebook.com/ElephantsHeadCamden/?pnref=story

Day 131

Tuesday May 10

The Maple Leaf emails me today to confirm the date on July 1. Then they ask if we would be free to play there this Friday. It’s for a benefit for the Alberta fire and would be a good thing to do although we don’t get as far as talking about payments or non-payments. It’s a new feeling but I have to apologise and say that we’re already booked for that night.

If you’ve ever seen Highlander, you’ll know all about The Quickening. We may just be experiencing the Softening. With this and what’s starting to come in from Spain, there’s suddenly a lot to juggle. This is not the time to lose your head.

Day 132

Wednesday May 11

When I booked the gig for England’s opening day of the Euros on June 11, the guy asked if I could get him posters. We have some but I wanted to have new ones reflecting the Euros. Maybe we could get a few more shows after a game. I’ll certainly give it a go. As is standard for this kind of thing, the posters have a big white space along the bottom where a date and time can be written and they go in the venue. Jenn’s good at finding bargains on the old internet and she comes up with a very affordable printer someone is selling nearby. We picked it up a few days ago but have been having trouble getting the software installed. Not a problem for a computer whizz like Jenn but it won’t be solved immediately so I have to pay a printer to do posters that, with Jenn’s help, I’ve designed specially in time to give this guy some this early this week as promised. OK, Wednesday’s middle of the week but I told him yesterday I was having slight issues so all’s good.

When I’m at the printer I give him a call. How many does he want and what size or sizes? One A3 three A4. Cool. I’ll be there in half an hour or so depending on the buses.

I get there and meet him for the first time. Personal contact always good and all that. He has a look at the posters. Great. He likes them. Then he asks if we’re available for Saturday May 28 which is a bank holiday weekend. I check. Yep. Cool, he says. We’re thinking of changing you guys from the 11th to then. Right. That would be no problem at all except I’ve just come here to deliver posters that I’ve just paid to get specially done for a date he no longer wants. And I’m in the middle of a round trip of more than an hour to do it. And I spoke to him about this just over half an hour ago. Not particularly cool. I don’t say any of that of course. It’s good to meet him, we’re able to have a face to face chat and I take the posters back, incase I can use them for someone else, I say. Great. He’ll let me know to confirm the date change. Fantastic. I’ll be waiting.

I get home, pick up my bass and head off to Dan’s for what will be a short rehearsal tonight. We’re going to see what new songs on our agenda we can add for Friday’s show at O’Neills. We have to be careful here. A few songs we try we’re just so far away from that it would be a waste of time to struggle through them now. So when a song doesn’t come together quickly, we forget it and move to the next one. In the hour and a half we have, we manage to get two and possibly one more that we can work on a little on the day. That will have to do for now.

Day 133

Thursday May 12

Some people really don’t like private numbers or numbers they don’t recognise. I love them. I love not knowing who I’m about to pick the phone up to and wondering how the next conversation might unfold. That’s always been the case but I guess it’s a bit more marked now.

I’m just starting to think about heading off on my venue visits when this very thing happens. It’s Chris from O’Neills in Muswell Hill. ‘Nightmare,’ he says. ‘I double booked you this Friday. I’ve just seen I already have someone else coming in. Balls. But then he says something really quite interesting. ‘You know that trouble we’ve been having with the neighbour?’ Of course. ‘We’re having a test gig on the 21st. We’ve got a few of the big bosses of O’Neills coming in, a guy from the council to check noise levels and there’s going to be a representative at her house checking for what it’s like there. How would you like to be the band to do that show?’ Wow. I would love to be in the band that gets that sorted. That’s exactly what I say. ‘Can you confirm that and get back to me?’ Absolutely.

Before I call Dan with the bad news/good news, I think I’ll see if I can just have good news and different news. It’s very short notice but I call The Maple in Covent Garden. They wanted us for their thing tomorrow. Maybe they weren’t able to get anyone and the spot’s still open. I get hold of them and, after a considerable amount of to-ing and fro-ing their end the word comes back that thankyou but they’re not doing any show tomorrow now. Balls. Oh well. We’ve still got the 21st. So I call Dan just to confirm it. ‘No, I can’t,’ he says. I wait for the punchline. ‘It’s Saffy’s birthday.’ Oh double balls. I remember talking about that a few days ago. They’re making a big deal of it. I even joked about us having a gig that night. Dan says that’s now probably come back to bite us on the arse. He’s probably right. Balls.

Day 134

Friday May 13

I’ve been dealing with the assistant manager of The Lion And Unicorn in Kentish town. He’s the guy who gave me a resounding no when I first walked in off the street but then, after taking a minute or so to hear me out, suddenly became very enthusiastic about what we could do in his place, saying he thought we would be doing quite a bit of business there over the summer.

I’ve had to wait until today for his boss, the actual bar manager, to finish her holiday. She’s semi expecting me when I arrive and is very courteous. We go outside for a chat in the sun on the benches. She gives me all the time I need to explain what it is we do and when I finish, says, ‘We don’t really do that kind of thing here.’ Bang. ‘But we do do a lot of special events and I think you could be quite good to accompany them.’ OK. That softens it a bit. They have some kind of gin tasting evening coming up that she thinks some ambient live music might fit quite well with. OK. Not quite what I thought I was coming for but a positive enough start. If I had come with no expectations at all, I would have walked away feeling quite happy with that. Afterall, first, yes they do forsee something of a relationship. Once you get that started, and get your first foot in the door, you don’t know where it could lead.

On the other hand, this is yet another example of finding myself in the middle of assistant managers and managers finding themselves at cross purposes. Especially when an assistant manager is full of possibilities only for their boss, the manager, to have quite different ideas. I guess that can be the problem with delegation sometimes.

A very similar thing happens when I go to Wahaca, a Mexican chain restaurant I’m very fond of which is above Kentish Town tube station. This was where me and Dan had our pit stop on the four gig day. I meet Monica, the girl who was so positive about the possibilities of how we could help brighten up events on their forthcoming roof garden. She’s there and says I would be better off speaking to Matt, the manager. First, he says that yes, something like what we do would be great on the roof garden. However, with planning permissions and foot dragging councils, that is, or has become, a long running saga and he doesn’t envisage anything happening in any kind of immediate or mid term future. Maybe next summer. He might well take something in the restaurant but it would have to be completely latino in feel. I have to be honest and say, no, that wouldn’t be us. I’ll be over here not holding my breath and waiting for the roof garden idea to happen.

With the Diaries having been added to WordPress in the past few months thanks to the efforts of Siby, they’ve started to find something of a new audience. I check in today and there’s a few automated notices from the site. The first says that they’ve notice this page has been getting a lot of traffic lately. I’ve been seeing the numbers and I’m not sure I’d call that a lot but OK. I guess I don’t know what kind of traffic other pages on there get. The second note says that they recently added marksdiaries to search engines. I go and check out Google and, when I write marksdiaries in there without a space, it comes up as the fourth and fifth result. Result.

Day 135

Saturday May 14

When I time mine and Dan’s practices I never include the breaks. I check when each session starts and when it ends and add them up. This one was just over the four hour mark. A way to go to beat our eight or nine hour marathon session a few days before our first show on New Year’s Eve but not bad. Add my preparation time and I’ve done just shy of five hours rehearsal. It’s clear Dan’s prepared too. As always. So many times when I call, he’s like, ‘I’ve just been playing through the set,’ or, ‘I’m just going through the new songs we’re doing.’ At our last session, as we didn’t have long and thought we were playing in two days’ time, any new song that didn’t work quickly we just abandoned and moved onto the next one. They were so far away from being ready it was a waste of time to work on them when there were others we could get together quickly and have added to the set for Friday’s gig(s) which, of course, didn’t happen. When we get together for this session, those songs that were so far away from happening come together really quickly. So quickly that in four hours we not only finish five songs we’ve been working on and add and a completely new one but we get them all recorded as well. One or two are more there than others and there’s a lot of unison rather than harmony singing but if we had to we could take them all on the stage right now. And that next play round would probably be better again and it wouldn’t surprise me if a few harmonies spontaneously appeared. Now as we continue with them, harmonies will emerge but that’s all part of the process of us developing as a unit anyway. A few months ago I don’t think we could have got this many songs to this level from where they were as quickly as we have today. As a wise, not so old guitarist friend of mine once said, ‘As you go on, you get better at getting better.’ Case in point right here.

The one brand new song is Seven Nation Army which we’ve spoken about quite a bit but have never done. Dan has an idea for a slightly new arrangement and I quickly see how the bass could be slightly altered to fit it. This conversation happens right at the beginning and rather than tackle the five we’ve been working on for the past few sessions, we launch straight into this one, chopping and changing structures and arrangements. Forty minutes after starting and we have the thing recorded. Next.

Each new song we come to, unlike the last rehearsal, we’re able to play a recognisable version within ten minutes. Then we just keep working on it bit by bit until we have something we think is ready to record. If, for nothing else, as a rehearsal tool to remind ourselves of what we did. And also to have something we can individually look at to come up with harmonies to develop them because, as I said, there is a lot of unison singing going on. But it still all sounds good. There’s also quite a bit of microphone technique work going on as well. From me of course, not Dan. He’s got his down. But as we record and listen back to them, certain tweaks that can be made, especially in that department, become clear. So we set record again and try it. Example. Seven Nation Army. First recording too close. Second recording too far. Then the Goldilocks recording. Just right. It shows me how I have to adust myself with the microphone for the kind of vocal or harmony I’m trying to do. It’s a big learning curve but the switch seems to be set in the up position.

Also, as I listen, I realise something. By a weird kind of alchemy, when put with Dan’s voice, my singing voice sounds nothing like I recognise it. At all. I’ve always been able to carry a tune. It’s how I’ve been able to get my songs across to the singers who are going to sing them. But in terms of what it sounds like, let’s just say no records were ever going to be sold. But with Dan, all the harshness goes and it really sounds as though someone else is singing.

With this new discipline, I have started to practice a bit more and generally use my time out on the streets to practice and build up vocal strength and stamina and I’ve found it really makes a massive difference as singing, particularly for long periods, has become significantly easier with Dan even remarking that my voice is starting to sound stronger and rounder. My practice is basically humming, doing vocal warm ups that Dan suggested to me a while ago. Low notes feel like they take more strength so I concentrate on holding them, kind of building up the ‘muscles.’ And I run through scales and patterns. But I always make sure there’s sufficient street noise going on, usually cars. And I don’t do it when walking among people. I don’t want to look like another London crazy. But then again, it might just already be too late for that.

Our take on Seven Nation Army. After working on this, we also beefed up the outro so it’s a lot bigger now but we moved on to other stuff rather than holding ourselves up to record again. That wasn’t the priority of this session.

Day 136

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Sunday May 15

Dan comes down to The Blues Kitchen tonight with Saffy. He’s only been there for the jam once before and that was the night Kes very accommodatingly put me on the last set so that my workmates from the bar could come and see me once they finished. He thinks it’s time he came and saw what the whole thing is about. We also have the idea to do something here together for the jam night when we get the chance. With The Insiders, we do a five song rock’n’roll medley. There are a few stops and starts and a few places where notes are unexpectedly held so we need to adapt it a little to make it more easily jammable so that’s not going to happen tonight. The three of us manage to get a nice table down by the front.

There are a lot of bassists in the Blues Kitchen house tonight so when I get called up and do one set of two songs, I’m quite happy with that and think I’m going to sit back and watch the rest of the show. But a little later on, a guy comes up to me and says he’s been waiting for a few weeks to make his first appearance on the stage as a singer. Would I please be his bass player? I tell him it’s OK with me if it’s OK with Ed who’s running things tonight. Ed calls him up, then asks for me again so I guess it’s fine. We do Roadhouse Blues. A simple enough number and I just keep it simple and powerful. His name’s Christian and he has a great time up there. He’s also got Adam on guitar and Adriano on drums so he’s doing OK. It’s all super solid and he does a great job and it seems this first experience is everything he thought it would be. He’s ecstatic when we finish and insists on buying me a drink. Well thankyou very much.

I go and have a chat with Mikey Christer and he asks if I’m playing with him tonight. I tell him there are a lot of bassists in the house and I’ve already been up twice but I promise I’ll mention it to Ed. I think I’d better get that done quick so I go and see him. ‘I already had you down for Mikey,’ he says. Cool. I should point out that Kes isn’t here tonight otherwise he surely would have been in that particular seat.

Mikey’s turn comes and I go up for my third set tonight. That song I was so worried about last week with all the changes, well we do that tonight. After a couple of turnarounds I have it and feel a bit more comfortable with it now. When we finish, I’m packing my gear up on stage as I see Mikey walking through the dancefloor area to get back to his seat. As he walks through the crowd and it parts to let him through, a spontaneous clapping and cheering goes up for him. I’ve never seen that happen for anyone at any jam session.

Day 137

Monday May 16

Among other things today I think I should go and visit The Grafton again. The new assistant manager is Helen who I used to work with at The Oxford and who then became a supervisor at The Vine, the pub across the road from my house. She’s been making encouraging noises so I drop in today and find the place suitably deserted.

We have a little hello then I bring up that she says they were thinking of doing stuff in July. Would she like to lock anything down? ‘That might not be a bad idea,’ she says, and goes off to get the diary. She checks it out and asks how we would feel about the end of July. No problem. ‘How about the 28th? It’s a Thursday,’ she says. Sounds good, I say. Should we pencil it in? ‘We should.’ Consider pencil brandished with considerable intent.

On the way back I pop into The Vine which is across the road from me and which has recently had a new manager installed. When I meet her she says she’s heard about my time at The Oxford and invites me to take a seat in the restaurant, under the sun of the huge skylight.

She comes and joins me and asks to hear all about what it is we’re doing. At the end of it she says this sounds like something she would love to work with but she has a personal policy that she has to see everything first before she books it. When are we playing in the area? I can’t answer that right now but as soon as we have something handy, I’ll let her know.

Day 138

Tuesday May 17

I’ve never got the bus to Angel before. What this means is that when I come in, I see a bar I’ve never noticed before. It’s on the main road from Kings Cross, a hundred yards or so before the left turn which sees the start of Angel’s high street. ‘Why not?’ I think and retrace back the way the bus has just come to go and have a look.

The bar’s called The Castle and it looks roomy and welcoming enough. I go in and ask for the manager. ‘Can I ask what it’s about?’ the girl says. I tell her. ‘Oh, the event manager is sitting just down there. Go and say hi.’

I do that and she introduces herself as Geogie. She’s at a laptop and surrounded by piles of paper and a diary. She lets me tell her all about what we do then asks how much we charge for that. ‘Could you send me something?’ she asks. It will be done. ‘Great. I’ve just closed the book on the next few months of events but I think I could squeeze you in somewhere. Let me have a look at what you do and I’ll see where we can fit this in.’ Great. No more to be said. Thankyou very much. First venue of the day, first result.

After this I visit 11 other venues. I know everyone I’m going to visit, who I have to speak to and where the conversation is at the moment. Some elicit positive call backs and a few new ones want to receive emails so they can have a listen. Off the beaten track, I manage to discover a new venue so go in and try my luck. The girl says they don’t do music at the moment, but they are looking into it and I should come back to them in August when they may have sorted out some of their issues. Of course, there are also a few people I need to see who aren’t in so I make a note to go and try another day. One venue that had looked ever so mildly promising but I was never entirely convinced, totally closes the door. This is MeatLiquor, the spectacular burger restaurant. The girl I’m dealing with there is nice enough but says the owners want to concentrate on other things. This doesn’t really explain much but I get the message and cross it off my list. I may still return as a punter though.

The most frustrating visit is to a venue I visited way back in February and spoke to the assistant manager. It’s a big place and I’ve found getting hold of people since to be quite tricky. I manage it today and the assistant manager enthusiastically introduces me to the real manager, saying he thinks I have something really great to offer the place. Well thankyou very much. The manager, Martin, greets me very warmly and gives me all the time needed to introduce myself. When I’ve finished, he says, ‘That does all sound wonderful and something we would certainly be interested in. Unfortunately, I’ve done all my bookings for the year and won’t be looking at anything else until October. Could you possibly come back or contact us again around that time?’ He adds that two bands have approached him today by phone and email and he’s given them the same answer. However, he does add that it’s far better that I’ve come in and we’ve had a face to face chat and that will certainly help when the time comes to make decisions. On the face of it, this is a decent result. A venue is keeping its doors open and a dialogue has definitely begun here. However, inside I feel massively put out that, from doing no music at all when I first came, they’ve started looking at it and have opened themselves up to the concept. Then, while I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to make new contacts with them, they’ve gone and filled the book. Something similar happened with an agency just a week or so ago. It’s massively frustrating and another lesson in keeping on it. However, it’s a fine line between keeping yourself in their thoughts and becoming a nuisance they won’t want to deal with anymore.

Day 139

Wednesday May 18

A very wet, slow, frustrating day. The rain comes down intermittently and unpredictably. Torrential at times. As I watch it batter the window, I decide I aint going nowhere. I work the phones a bit but it’s clear it’s just one of those days. It’s all a bit listless. Maybe it’s just me but it seems no-one’s in anyway. The most productive thing that happens is that I get properly stuck into some music reading practice. I’m doing a little almost everyday but now I manage an hour of very concentrated practice over a couple of sessions. It’s in some mild state of disbelief that I slowly sight read stuff that, a few months ago, would have terrified me to even look at.

In this period of inactivity, I decide the time has come to start looking at some extras agencies. You register online and I concentrate on two that I’ve been told about. One of them has an extensive and categorised set of skills they want you to tick off. In the musical section is a question asking, ‘Can you read?’ For the first time ever, I tick the yes box.

I just saw this on another site and my morals instruct me to credit Steve Shrago. I have no idea who he is but this is brilliant.

Where best to live in London

Best for young professionals: Clapham/Balham

Best for young professionals who have had their first kid: Islington

Best for young, indie types: Camden. Where I live. Me, not Steve Shrago.

Best for old, indie type: Spitalfields

Best for curry: Aldgate (ok…Brick Lane)

Best if money is no object: Mayfair

Best if money is no object, but you are not from Moscow: Kensington

Best if money is no object, you’re not from Moscow and you like horses: Hampstead

Best for access to the oldest profession: Kings Cross

Best for access to the newest professions: Shoreditch (Old Street)

Best if you want to get your riot on: Hackney

Best for access to the seat of power: Westminster

Best for access to the real set of power: The City

Best for borderline inappropriate double entendres: Mud Chute

Best for being spotted in front of the cameras: Soho

Best for being spotted behind the cameras: White City

Best place for being a tourist: Covent Garden

Best place for avoiding tourists: anywhere other than Covent Garden…

Best for underground, overground, wombling free: Wimbledon

Best place for people who ask “where’s the best place to live in London”: Birmingham…

Day 140

Thursday May 19

I’m going to the theatre with Jenn. In a pub in Angel. At 3 O’Clock. It’s the kind of thing that happens in London quite a lot. I have a few bars in Angel I could do with catching up on so I decide to put the two together and get the tube a bit earlier and on my own. The daily newspaper of London is The Evening Standard. Has been for as long as I’ve had anything to do with the place. It’s now free and is everywhere. There’s a big practice of picking the paper up from a stand, reading it on the train or bus and leaving it on the seat when you leave. This is frowned and seen as litter by some. But a lot of people, myself included, see it as leaving the paper for the next person. In a city a little undeservedly not known for its sense of community, this is no small thing. It’s only because I’m on my own that I pick up a discarded copy for something to read on the brief ride to Angel. You might remember a little while ago I talked about plans for a London night mayor, and also my thoughts that, with a mayoral election and inevitable change coming up, these plans might be shelved. Not so. Flicking through the paper, I come to this.

‘The Mayor (hmm. They cap it) has vowed to take the arts as seriously as housing and crime as he confirmed he will appoint a nigh czar and help to protect music venues threatened with closure.’ I’ll continue. ‘In a speech at City Hall, Mr Khan said he wanted to protect the 800,000 jobs the sector provides in London and the estimated 35 billion it generates for the economy.

”Supporting the arts and creative industries will be a core priority for my administration, right up there with housing, the environment and security as one of the big themes that I want to define my time as Mayor,’ he said.

‘There is no question London without culture would be a much poorer place and we can’t rest on our laurels. We face stiff global competition. And just as we need transport and housing plans for the next 30 years, we also need a plan for our cultural infrastructure.’

That’s that question answered then.

Onto Angel and I know exactly which bars I’m visiting. The Joker, whose manager Gaz has been quite elusive. Despite me never having met him, he emailed me a while back saying he was interested in having us play there and asking for a price. I replied and that was that. Nothing since. The Taprooms which currently doesn’t have music but the manager, Ben, is quite open to the idea of us playing there, although there are logistical and neighbour concerns. The John Salt, which seems to have a wildly convoluted and seemingly impenetrable way of booking acts, and The Kings Head itself where I’m headed for the theatre once I’ve been to the other three.

On arriving at The Joker, I’m told Gaz is indeed in. He’s over there having lunch. I’ll wait for him to finish. No, it’s fine. Go and say hello. So I do and I tell him about our brief email correspondence and his interest. Yes, he does remember and he still is interested. However, they’re undecided as to what way they’re going to go. Music or quiz? Quiz or music? When that’s decided and if they’ve gone with the not quiz, he’ll be in touch. Cool. Now I know.

At The Taprooms, Ben immediately remembers me, saying, ‘I know you. You’re the guy who was in here talking about music.’ That would be correct sir. We have a good chat about it and he’s still very interested but he has to check out issues with the neighbours. Always with the neighbours.

Now to take a deep breath and dive into The John Salt a little up the high street from The Taprooms. I almost don’t go in. I don’t really see the point. This place has blown so hot and cold with different messages coming out of it. They’d love us for a Sunday. Oh no they wouldn’t, they’re not booking music. Oh, they are booking music but you have to speak to this person who will then liase with this person to decide what they’re going to do. It’s all sounded so unnecessarily complicated and time consuming. So far I’ve been given the name of the first point of contact and have emailed her. I get to the bar and ask if she’s in. She is. The girl over there at the table with the laptop and ton of paper. I go over and finally meet Valeria. After the introductions and the fact that she does remember us and likes the videos she’s seen, she asks, ‘Would you be available during the day on Sunday the 29th?’ I check and yes we would be. She’s running some kind of promotional event and hadn’t got to thinking who the live music for the day would be. Now she knows. All that to-ing, fro-ing and going. Why do to-ing and fro-ing need hyphens and going doesn’t? Mark’s ponder for the day. Well yeah, all that and all it took was for two people to sit down, compare calendars and make it happen. A demonstration that you just have to keep knocking on the door.

Now I can get off to the Kings Head and speak to the guy there before the show. Way back in February, he promised us a trial date in May with a view to getting us on the rosta. I sent a reminder email in March and he sent a polite but firm request to let him get on with it, he’s on it for May. Just leave it for now. Well now is now and I’m here so let’s talk about what we’re going to do. ‘I’ve filled May and June and I’m not thinking about too much more right now,’ he says a little wearily before having to run off to serve someone. What now? What was all that about leaving him alone to sort it out. A demonstration that you should not leave people alone.

He’s busy with the bar so I leave the conversation there for now. When he comes back to me, he says, ‘I remember now that I said I’d give you a slot for May.’ There you go. ‘Sorry about that.’ What can I say? Well I tell him we’re playing The John Salt at the end of the month and he can check us out then.’ He perks up at that. Maybe I’ve pushed his guilt button. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Remind me about that at the end of next week and I’ll see if I can come along.’ That same night he says he’s playing in here so I might want to come along and see how it works. Yes I might.

Not that I’ve been taking massive advantage of it or anything, but one of the great things about living in London is all the theatre shows and they are something I would like to see more of as I go on. I’m not talking about the west end here but pubs. I used to go to them all the time way way back when I was an entertainment editor and writer and I don’t remember a single bad show or bad actor. The productions and sets aren’t as elaborate as what you’ll find in the West End but they can be every bit as passionate and absorbing. Often even more so because of the tiny, intimate setting. You literally are right on top of the actors with the front row often being on the very stage itself. Theatre pubs are generally small spaces in a back room of a bar but on occasion, they can be in the bar itself. I saw this too once, and it was a really interesting experience. Also, as they’re often in smallish rooms, the audience tends to be all the way around. Maybe three or four rows with all the action happening in the middle. That’s what this one is like.

The play we’ve come to see was written by an old friend of Jenn’s who now lives in London and that’s why we’re here but yes, we did pay for tickets. This is an in production show which means there are no sets and things may change as a result of feedback forms we will all be asked to fill out later.

Brazen Strap Of An Electric One is the name of it and I won’t go into deciphering the Irish slang of that. Referring to someone as a brazen strap of a one is basically saying a woman or girl is a bit wild, and the electric part is a reference to something that happens in the story. It’s about a Dublin gigolo who sails to a remote island to have sex with an older woman. A far, far older woman. In the fallout after the experience, our antihero discovers deep and dark secrets about Ireland’s violent past and uncovers a few uncomfortable home truths about himself. There’s so much covered here that it could just be one big mess. But it isn’t at all. And neither is it massively sexual in content. And double entendres could have been dropped all over the place. A form of wit I have absolutely no time for. It’s why I find Graham Norton so hard to watch. But no. Not a brazen strap of a one. It’s so well written and acted that I completely forget there are no sets and totally buy into where the characters say they are; the two main locations being a living room and a wild, open and cold field by the sea. It’s shocking, warming, irritating and genuinely funny. And so captivating throughout that I think about asking for half the money back for my seat as I only use the edge of it.

In the bar afterwards, Jenn gets reunited with her friend and we have a fun and interesting hangout with the actor playing the gigolo.

After all this it’s home for a while and then I go for the second part of Thursday. I’m finally going to go to a jam at Ronnie Scotts. And, if luck allows, make my debut in that iconic world famous venue.

This is not the jazz jam, rather it’s the funk W3 jam at which the house band has included musicians who’ve played with Jesse J, Rita Ora, Eliza Doolittle and Incognito. The venue for this is upstairs, reached by a narrow staircase that I wouldn’t fancy queuing on. Even passing by someone feels a little claustrophobic. I reach the door at the top and opening it, emerge into an already high temperature atmosphere jiving to a band that almost smells of heavyweight. Three horns, a drummer, bassist, guitarist keys, and extra percussion going on out front. And they’re playing in a cubbyhole lined with plush sofas making it look like they’re inside their own backstage area. The main seating area of the place is in front and to the right of them. A long, classy mix of sofas and comfy chairs. To the left of the band is the bar, all along that wall. So the band is facing across the room. In front of them, the crowd goes almost all the way to the entrance, there’s almost no room to walk through it and it’s moving almost as a single being.

I’ve not been there long when I see a familiar face. Guiseppe, a drummer I know from The Blues Kitchen arrives as I’m still taking this all in. He’s only 19 and looks younger but is a talent to take seriously. When the band takes a break, he comfortably walks in among them to take a seat on one of those sofas. OK. I don’t think I’ll join him. You got to earn the right to sit there.

In this break, I find out who the main guy is and go and introduce myself to him. His name is Jackson and he’s one of the horn players. Trumpet. Cool, he says once he’s taken my name down. We’re going to do another set, chill out and wait for your name to be called.

They do that, announce the jam with the first guest bass player of the night and it’s on. That song plays out for a while and then Jackson’s on the mic asking me to come to the stage. This is it. I’m about to play in Ronnie Scotts.

I get up there and the first thing I have to do is not step on the house player’s pedals. He’s got more pedals than any guitarist I’ve ever seen but I do have to say that he is also one damn fine bass player with a mean line in soloing, and he makes really tasteful use of those pedals.

I get the lead and plug it in. But my first few notes immediately sound wrong. All distorted and jerky. Wanting to keep things going, Jackson calls the band in to start. I know something’s wrong but there’s no drama. The band is playing through something of a reprise intro led by the horns and the soundman’s on his way to come and sort this thing out. He has a look at it and I really have no idea what he does but I know enough to understand that some jack somewhere, probably to do with the pedals, was connected somewhere it wasn’t supposed to be connected to. He gets it in and I hit a short test note. Yep. All sorted. Now, to come in, all I’ve got to go on is the horns and their melody so I jump in with a B, letting that ring for a second. I think that’s it. I’m not sure Jackson registers that or not but he notices everything’s fine again so turns to me and says, B flat. OK. Not bad. I almost made it.

Then I’m in. Just riffing and grooving. As I do, Jackson turns round and nods approvingly. A few others do the same. Thankyou. Nice to meet you. We go on like this, all the while the crowd out front really getting into it. I’m just keeping the funk going but after a little while I start to open up and a few fills start to come in. After one particular fill that starts high and comes smoothly down with a few hammer-ons which I think come in the right place, the keys player looks up at me and gives a big nod and smile. Cool. I don’t go crazy, keep it going but I’m not shy in opening up either. Then the round of solos begins. I was going to The Blues Kitchen for months before I got called up for my first solo but it looks like it’s going to be first time out here. And yes. I guess I’ve shown enough for them to be comfortable calling me to the spotlight. And so Jackson does. On bass, please welcome Mark. I start to play, going faster and faster, higher and higher, and as I do, I’m very, very aware that the band has all but fallen away and left me to it. Maybe there’s just a touch of drums. Out there the crowd is silent, save for the occasional whoop. This means that right now, in a packed Ronnie Scotts, I’m the only person making a sound and everyone is listening. And it goes on and on. Each time I think the band is going to come in, they don’t. I break it right down, back into low territory and just start walking round the chords with a few staccato notes and little trills thrown in. Jackson turns round, we make eye contact and both laugh. I give him a little raise of the eyebrows. But I’m still going and the band still hasn’t come in. That means I’ve got at least another four bars to fill. I do, really going for it now, as fast as I can building up to what I really really hope is going to be a crescendo. I reach it and am actually relieved when the band does indeed come in and the crowd fairly erupts. I’ve done it. My Ronnie Scotts cherry. Broken, squashed and eaten.

We roll on to the end of that song and I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. Jackson seems to want to keep me up. No-one’s being called. I’m standing there with my bass off, looking around and shrugging. After what feels quite a while but probably really isn’t, he turns to me and says, ‘Do you know…’ I can’t remember the name of the song. I give my usual stock answer in such a situation. ‘Is it easy to follow?’ Mmm? He gives a little pained exclamation denoting thought but veering towards the negative. Then he’s gesturing to the house player who walks towards the stage while giving me a big smile and thumbs up. Jackson turns back and says, ‘Sorry mate. Great playing though.’ Hey, absolutely no problem. And I’m back out with the general population. A few people do say hi and I get a few nice comments but it’s not overly exuberant. This is Ronnie Scotts. Home of the greats. They’ve heard it all before. If anything, my solo and performance probably just about hit the required level to even exist in here. But I feel good. Really really good. Not far from exalted really.

I go to the bar, get a post jam beer and just chill and enjoy the show. I’m hoping I’ll get called up again. It might happen. Another jam happens, then a guy gets up and makes a horrible job of a famous Prince song, then there’s a jam after that. Once that’s done, Jackson announces the house band is going to come up for a couple of songs to play the night out. What? That’s it? Five songs? Maybe six? And the house band played for over an hour before that. I’m not that bothered I’m not going back on because I’ve come and I’ve done my thing. But really? Six extended jams and back to business, thanks for coming? OK. I guess that’s how it is around here.

I hang back once they’ve finished. I’m going to stick around for a while. Once they’ve broken everything down, Jackson comes over and has a chat. It’s all quite high energy. From both of us. He says all the right things and just in the middle of all this, he gets pulled away to deal with something regarding the houseband. As I’m hovering there, quite happy to continue chilling, the first bass player to get called up comes over and says hi. Oh he’s tall. So tall. And with me barely able to look over my bass when it’s in upright position, this is a very uneven conversation. But we make it work. His name’s Andrew and he’s a luthier. Not only that, but the house bassist here plays his models. As, of course, does he. ‘Well, I have to,’ he laughs. We chat for quite a long time and he tells me about a blues jam I’ve not heard off that happens once a month and goes on until everyone decides it’s time to finish. That can be four or five in the morning, he says. Now I definitely have to check that place out. He says there’s one next week. Right. That’s Friday sorted. When he says it’s time for him to leave and we shake hands, I look up to see the houseband guys are making their own plans to leave and decamp to backstage. Balls. I didn’t even finish my conversation with Jackson and I didn’t think to give him a card either. Oh well. In my general experience of jam sessions, the first time you’re seen as a one off, someone who may never return. You don’t want to seem too keen either as you’ll basically be treated like an autograph hunter. Yeah. Great to meet you. Hand shake and smiles and all that. Then it’s your turn to play the rules of the game, be gracious and get back to your side of the room while they get back to theirs. Only with repeated trips do you start to have a chance of becoming a part of what’s actually going on. One jam just makes you a tourist. It’s when you go back and back again that connections start to get a bit more solid.

I’ll be back.

Once outside I have to find my way to a nightbus. I fancy a bit of a walk so take quite a convoluted route before finally reaching the bus stop for the 24 hour C2 that stops pretty much at my door. It’s way past 4am by the time I get home.

The W3 house band at Ronnie Scotts

Day 141

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Friday May 20

When I was 16 years old I walked 24 miles to buy an album. Yes. You read that right. When I was 16 years old I walked 24 miles to buy an album. Bruce Dickenson had just left my beloved Iron Maiden and had released his debut, Tattooed Millionaire. I was up on all this stuff and always knew release dates so I knew exactly when it was going to become available. I was mad crazy to get it the minute it came out. Either that or wait a few years for them to invent the internet, then invent Itunes and Youtube. You don’t have that kind of patience when you’re 16. The problem was, at the time, we lived in a tiny village four miles from the nearest very small town where there was a record shop. I don’t even remember if there was bus service to this town from where we were. Probably not or I would have remembered taking it sometime. On the day of release, I very confidently set off on the four mile walk to the record shop. I got there, he said he knew about it but they didn’t have it yet. Come back tomorrow. Nothing for it but to turn round and walk the four miles back. An eight mile empty handed round trip. Exactly the same thing happened the next day although he spoke with a bit more confidence this time. He said he’d specially ordered it because he knew my face reasonably well and he gave me an actual day when it would be in. Another eight miles but not quite so empty handed despite still going home with nothing. Day three was a few days later. The Friday I believe. I think the first two days were Monday and Tuesday. Yep. In I walk on the Friday and there is a wonderful shiny brand new smelling of vinyl and promise copy of Tattooed Millionaire. When I got home, I played it so much over the next week or so that when Bruce Dickinson sang the title track as the album’s single on Top Of The Pops, our dog started crying when it was over. Accustomed to routine as dogs are, I can only assume he was quite put out when what he expected to hear after that song didn’t materialise. This was a dog that got excited when the drums came on at the end of Eastenders because he knew they signified walk time so he did have something of an ear for music, if not quite the natural aptitude for bass. It’s that high pitched hearing they have apparently. It leaves no tolerance for lower notes. Maybe if we’d tried him on piccolo.

I’m reminded of all this in my latest encounter for a venue which has come to a conclusion today. The Wrestlers in Highgate. A wonderful walk up there if you’re ever in the area. If London is to be seen as a collection of villages, then this must be on the list as one of the very best ones. As its name suggests, it is up high and from its main street you can look down on the city. Apart from that, you could be anywhere in rural England. It’s a beautiful, green, relaxed place that’s reached from Kentish Town by a picturesque hill with high hedges and trees on both sides all the way. Venture up the hidden driveways up this narrow lane and you come to some quite big and stunning mansions and houses that are probably an annex short of mansion status. It may well be in one of these that George Michael lives. I believe he lives in Highgate somewhere. Might as well be here.

The area is two miles from Kentish Town and I found The Wrestlers by happy accident when I was looking for another venue just a touch off the beaten track. The first time I went in, I met the assistant manager – yes, another one of those – and was told we could well be something the manager might want to go with. Other things took over and it remained on my back burner for a while. After all, it was a trek, or a bus ride out to one venue that may or may not be anything. A week or so ago I finally got round to it and walked up and bussed back. I met a different assistant manager, a lady this time. She said no at first, but when I talked to her a bit more about what we did and how we could do it, she said it could be of interest but that I needed to speak to the manager. She gave me his name and said he’d be in the next day and I should come and speak to him. I went the next day and she was massively apologetic, saying he’d been called away on something. Fair enough. Come back on Monday.

So I did. She wasn’t there and neither was he. Instead, the very helpful staff said he was supposed to be in but for some reason or other he hadn’t made it. They said he’d be in the next day. That next day I was busy myself with the Angel trip.

If you’re keeping up you’ll know that today will be the fifth time I’ve been to this venue. I walk there. Up the massive hill, but just because it is a really nice walk. I get there and finally the manager is in. His assistant greets me and tells him I’m the guy who’s been in to see him a few times. He shakes my hand and asks me what it’s about. I start and within about ten seconds he starts slowly shaking his head. I break off mid sentence. ‘You’re shaking your head. Is that a no or are you thinking about something?’ He explains that they’ve tried this sort of thing in the past and had complaints from the neighbours. ‘What? Even acoustic?’ Yep, he says. They just can’t do it. Sorry. There’s nothing more to say. His assistant looks at me. She seems as surprised as I am. The whole time I’d got nothing but positive, encouraging messages about this place. ‘Sorry,’ she says seeming quite genuine and put out. ‘I had no idea.’ That’s fine, I say. Thankyou both for your time. And that’s the last walk home from this place.

But not quite as empty handed as you might be thinking.

When I’d got up here, for some reason it hadn’t yet opened so rather than wait outside like someone getting the shakes for their first drink of the day, I took a walk to another bar that I’d found, again, quite by accident while going about my business wtih this one. Again, an assistant manager and again positive noises. An email was sent to her boss a few days ago and I think this is the perfect opportunity to chase it up. I walk in and the boss himself is there. I tell him who I am, about my previous visit and the email. ‘Oh yes,’ I remember that,’ he says. His tone of voice is mildly encouraging. He goes on to explain that he currently has a regular guy on Sunday night music but he’s thinking of starting something on Fridays. However, he’s offered Fridays to the Sunday guy as well. It’s not clear to me, and I don’t ask, if he’s stopping music on Sundays or if his incumbent will be playing two nights a week. He tells me that he wants to give him a chance to take up the offer but that I should contact him again in a month. If nothing has changed, he says that night could be ours. That’s certainly something.

Back in Kentish Town and I drop in on The Vine to see if the new boss Edyta is around. She wanted to know dates we were playing in the area so she could come and see us. I’d been hoping The Lion And Unicorn would offer something in the not too distant future but this isn’t going to be the case now. So I’ve come up with an idea and run it by Dan with a positive response. She’s here now and I put it to her. ‘How would you feel about dropping by a rehearsal sometime and we’ll do a few songs for you? That’s just up the road in Camden.’ Absolutely, she’s up for that. Great. I give her our next two rehearsal dates but she can’t make either of them. Fair enough. She gives me her mobile number and asks me to keep texting her whenever we’re rehearsing or if we do indeed get a nearby gig. Great. That’s that job done.

At Ronnie’s last night, Andrew the luthier had given me his card. When I get home I find him on Facebook. We have ten mutual friends including quite a few people we have actually hung out with. Scott’s in there too. We have another decent text chat and, among other things, he gives me a heads up on a few songs that would be good to learn for going back to Ronnies. This really is the social network.

Day 143

Sunday May 22

It’s a fair criticism that those who live in London don’t appreciate London. There’s that, ‘Oh, it’ll be there tomorrow so I don’t need to go see it today,’ attitude and I can be as guilty of it as anyone. I know I was in Madrid. When I first worked here and in the centre, I lived with a friend who also worked in the centre. Everyday and separately, we would walk home through all the iconic sights that people travel thousands of miles to see. So one day, we made a point of meeting after work and going and appreciating where we actually were. We didn’t casually walk past Trafalgar Square. We went in and up to the lions and Nelson’s Column. We took time to hang out and sit in the park in Leicester Square and we stopped and savoured the atmosphere of Picadilly Circus. A few other things as well. It’s in this same spirit that Jenn’s booked us on a walking tour of London’s hidden history. We’re going to be tourists in our own city for the day, something everyone who lives here should do. I’ve said this here before but, to (mis)quote Downton Abbey, ‘I’m so excited to be in London. All the shows and museums.’ ‘Everybody says that dear but one only goes when one’s friends come to visit.’ Oh, so true of Madrid as well.

We set off on to meet our tour and are cutting our time a bit fine. This would be absolutely no problem except when we arrive at Bank Station for the short walk to St Paul’s Cathedral to meet the group, we get somehow lost in the underground system. Following the signs for ‘Way Out,’ we don’t realise this is one of those stations that leads to another one and, if you’re not careful and follow the wrong way out signs, you find yourself going all the way to that other station. Yep. That’s exactly what we do and we’re two very confused pretend tourists when we emerge out of Monument Station ten minutes after the tour’s started. Yes, there’s the big spectacular monument that gives it its name. But who the hell cares? Where’s St Paul’s? Well it’s all the way back that way, all through the streets and back to where we would have started and then a little way more. We have a few moments of frustration and try to walk at a decent pace until Jenn says, ‘Forget it. They’re gone. It’s already started and it’s going to take another ten minutes at least to get there. We’re here now. Walking through sparsely populated Sunday afternoon streets. We’re also practically in the financial district which is all but a ghost town on the weekends. It’s all but a ghost town after 7 O’Clock in evening on weekdays.

It feels like we’ve got the place practically to ourselves. Jenn has something of the itinerary of the tour so we decide to just do it anyway. In place of a tour guide, when we reach somewhere, Jenn just Wikipedias it on her phone and we get all the information we need about it. We’re sure there would be a few more stories and yes we’re a little disappointed about that but we’re getting on with it.

We walk up to St Paul’s Cathedral and go into its grounds, the closest I’ve ever been to it. A few more people around us now, and we take a few pictures. We go from there to The Old Bailey, the famous still very active criminal court which used to be across the prison to which its unfortunates would be dispatched. The more unfortunates would be hanged somewhere around here and very publicly, although no-one knows exactly where anymore. On the way to The Old Bailey we come across part of an old underground water system from where ancient Londoners got their drinking water. We read a plaque that says it was lost in 1666 and was discovered in routine underground works only in the last 20 years. The year escapes me right now. We see this date 1666 quite a lot and I wonder what it was that so many things were lost around then. Then it comes to both of us at the same time. Oh. The great fire of London. Destroyed the whole place, including the bubonic plague, and then it was all built again most notably by archtect Chrisopher Wren who also built St Pauls. That was completed in 1710.

Jenn also points out a few churches of which, once they were finished in the 1800s, the architect sent the design blueprints to the fledgeling America. Go round New England, she says. All you see are churches that look just like those. And now we know why.

On we go into more deserted streets and past other little known historic sights, including the ancient house of Charles Lamb, contemporary and friend of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth. Then we come to Smithfield, the execution place of William Wallace. You saw Braveheart right? That painful last scene. This is where it happened. Or near here, as the commemorative plaque says. Again, no-one’s sure exactly where. It’s a cute little villagey garden type place now with ancient churches and a little green square. And hardly anyone around. In the corner is a church built sometime in the 1200s. We don’t go into the church itself because they’re asking a fiver for the privilege. But we go into its cute little grounds where I manage to get without doubt the best wildlife picture I’ve ever taken.

Out of here and one last stop to visit. The old London Wall, built by the Romans around their city of Londinium. This also happens to be right next to the huge Barbican housing estate, built in the very descriptive and evocative style of brutalism. Oh dear. Well, niceties weren’t quite top of the agenda when London was rebuilding after World War II. This area, Cripplegate, was literally crippled in the war and totally destroyed. So this massive ugly estate was built with a massive central towerblock that now probably affords views of London you’d have to pay a fortune to own. As for the wall that runs nearby, large sections of it are still there, along with a connected museum. We go and take a little walk along it. I always get a little overwhelmed seeing such ancient structures, thinking someone was actually here when there was nothing, and put that brick on the ground to begin building this thing. And of course the sights and sounds and activity that would have happened on this very spot. And over there too. This is why I loved visiting Rome so much. It’s amazing to be walking by and able to touch something so ancient right in the middle of all this extreme modernity.

We’re done now. Nearby there’s a bus stop from where we can catch a bus to Angel, which I’ve grown to like very much. But coming to it from here rather than Kentish Town, we see for the first time just how central it really is. When we arrive, it feels like we’re still in the heart of the city, or maybe just coming out of it. I already kind of knew it but it’s still something to get a perspective of exactly where this little town of Angel is. We have lunch in one of the bars here and then it’s off home.

Well, it was going to be off home. It’s about 7:30 now and as our bus goes through Camden, I see we’re going to go right past the Blues Kitchen where I’m planning to play tonight. I could stay on this bus, go home, get my bass and come back. Or I could just get off here and use Kes’ bass. I do that and Jenn stays on the bus to go home. Once in, I discover Kes isn’t here tonight but speaking to house drummer Joe, he says he’s got his bass in the car across the street so I can use that tonight. Brilliant. Thankyou very much.

When it all gets started, apart from the houseband taking the first few songs and the last few to close the night, I’m up practically the whole time. Apart from the houseband sections, there are only three songs I don’t play.

The little fellah gets tired of being papped

This pic needs no introduction. Jenn took this during one fine day

Out with the new in with the old. Modern London lines up next to The Roman London Wall

The high street of Angel

Day 144

Monday May 23

Nice surprise when I check out Marksdiaries status and progress on WordPress. They’re the top featured blog of the day and that coincides with the second highest number of views they’ve had in a day. With the previous highest being last Monday, make of that what you will.

Day 145

Tuesday May 24

Me and Dan have dropped a lot of songs we’ve chosen to do for one reason or another. One in particular that we really liked was Creeque Alley which we had down quite well but could never get the right energy or sound live and it was always flat. Flat in atmosphere, not tuning or anything. Our last performance of it, almost as soon as it started, I just wanted it to end. I knew it wasn’t going well. I might even be right in saying that as soon as we finished, we looked at each other and said, ‘Let’s not do that one again.’ There are others that have gone, but not quite as dramatic as this. Then there are songs we thought would be a great idea and we’ve learnt them, then spent ages trying to rehearse them but they’ve just not quite been there so we left them alone. Two great examples of this are Counting Stars by One Republic and Titanium by David Guetta. For both songs, if we pitched them so the intros sounded good, we couldn’t hit the highest notes. If we repitched them so we could hit the highest notes, the intros didn’t sound good. So they went. Rolling In The Deep too, for some reason, just never quite made it.

I’m saying all that as a way of thinking that it’s taken us all this time, from starting at the end of last year, to finally have a full two hour set. So far we’ve not had to play two hours but this Sunday we will have to. If we’d had to, there are songs we could have thrown in to fill it out, and there’s also always the originals. But not quite a full two hours of songs we’ve felt really comfortable with that people would know and love. With our latest set of additions, we think we’ve finally got there with a solid set of 40 songs.

Today for rehearsal we decide to go through everything. First, to see what kinks are there and to have confidence in the whole lot; some of our older and more familiar songs we’ve not played for a while because we’ve been concentrating on new ones so it makes sense to go back and make sure we still have them. And second, we want to time it to see how long it all really is. A few songs do need a little tweaking so we take time out to do that, and a few times we decide to have a look at what kind of harmonies could be added. In doing this, I stop the clock and start it again when we’re ready to move onto the next one. We take a break after just over an hour in which we see we’ve played 19 songs.

Back to it and we get going again. It’s all cool until at some point I check where we are timewise and, for reasons I won’t bore you with, I see I’ve managed to set the stopwatch running backwards. Balls. We do an estimate but we’re not completely sure. By the time we finish, we see we haven’t quite reached two hours. But then there was that backwards thing going on for how long we don’t really know. Oh well. At least we played through everything we have and sorted out some kinks. As for how long this set actually is, I guess we’ll find out on Sunday because we sure as hell aren’t going to sit down and play the whole thing again between now and then.

Day 146

Wednesday May 25

In attempting to open up another area of London, I’m off to Crouch End today. While I’m out and before I get started on that, I decide to go and do a little mopping up in Angel to see what I can do. One venue there has been very elusive with managers never being in when I’ve visited and off on holiday for whatever length of time. This is the first place I visit. I was told she’d be in today and yay. Waddayaknow, she is.

She sits down with me to have a chat. I explain who I am and what we do and also let her know that emails to her have bounced back. When I finish, she says, ‘That won’t work. We only have one pieces here.’ OK. I sit back to let her fill the space. She explains it’s just background music to give the place ambience during Sundays and that a two piece would be too big. Oh oh oh oh oh. Wait a minute. I’ve obviously not been clear enough. That’s exactly the kind of thing we can do, and I tell her about the Cluster concept where we’ve been used to do exactly that. Atmosphere music in an environment people have come to to talk. She wakes up to that and tells me how much they pay. It’s right in the ballpark. I think we can work together on this. Yes, she says. I think we can. She gives me her personal email address and asks me to send something to that. They more or less pay our price for a three hour stint. So give a little, take a little. Three 45 minute sets with fifteen minute break. Looks like we’re going to do business.

I go to three other bars but no movement in any of them today as no-one I need to speak to is in. I’ll have to be back then. There’s one more that I’ve not had great vibes from and have spoken to variously uncommittal assistant managers. Today I get the manager. Very friendly but he says he’s leaving and the place is closing down for July. Come back in August, he says. Who knows? The new guy might be well up for it. I do hope so because this could be a lovely chilled venue and also quite lively because of the sports. Me and Jenn actually came here for a football match a week or so ago and I think it’s one of the better pubs in Angel which really is saying something.

So on to Crouch End. Oh my. What a lovely lovely little town this is and not much further out than Angel. I’ve had reservations about this place because it will take us two buses to get there and it seems a little awkward to get back from, but on arrival I see there’s a nightbus to Camden. All roads, it seems, do lead to Camden. First impressions are just so good. A really quaint town full of artisan shops, award winning independent bakers, butchers and bars. Time Out awards, Best In London awards and a butcher with a national award. And they definitely do look up to pace. The bars all have a more or less local feel to them as well. I walk around a little to get my bearings, to see if I can more or less start at one end of the town and work my way through, ticking off the side streets one by one. I find what I think is the far end of the place and get cracking. Into my first venue in Crouch End. Wish me luck.

Day 146 – part 2

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

This is a big corner pub with what looks like at least three semi self contained seating areas with one main bar servicing the whole lot. I speak to a lady called Paula who, as far as I can make out, runs the place but also has a manager. She seems very enthusiastic about what we’re doing but says she would have to run it by her boss. She asks if I have a card. I do. Next.

In no particular order, this happens. Again, cue montage music. Make it upbeat. Maybe a happy Bare Naked Ladies song. A promising looking theatre bar says they do do music sporadically and I should leave a card and send an email. I’ll keep on this one. I come across a music bar but they’re not open and there’s no indication of when they will be. But they do have a number on the door. I’ll give them a call. A large comedy bar says they do have music but they have an external guy who runs it and I should email him. I don’t really like this as these things don’t come with phone numbers and you end up just being another message in an inbox. It also makes me think they deal in original multi band gigs that don’t pay, but can’t hurt to send an introduction. A boss in an Irish bar, a very Irish bar, says yes he is planning on starting live music but he has a ton of his own connections and isn’t looking for anyone else. We chat a little I suggest that maybe I email him something then never darken his door or phone again. He’s happy with that compromise, not least, probably, because it finally gets me out of the door. Onto somewhere else and the boss isn’t there but his assistant pleads licencing regulations while saying it is something they would like to do. I educate her on what my research has said about this and tell her I’ll be back. She asks for a card.

We can fade the music out now as I recount what went on in between that lot above.

I go into a really cool place which is quite small but has a certain studenty charm. And a newspaper article on the front window saying it’s a favourite haunt of the likes of Simon Pegg, James McEvoy and their friends. And yes. As I think about it, I can totally imagine the celeb set coming out here to hang out. It’s a little off the beaten track but still central enough and just has its own little aura of cool. The girl I speak to in here isn’t one of the bosses but is very happy to chat about what we’re doing. She says they did have music but have had neighbour issues. I tell her about the night mayor thing and she’s really interested to hear about it. Then it’s onto where we’re from and she says she absolutely loves the Kentish Town, Camden area but is very happy with her Crouch End thankyou very much. I suggest she gives me a shout anytime she’s passing through and recommend a bar or two. Returning the favour, she takes the time to recommend some bars I should go to for what we’re trying to do. Some of them are round this area and I’ve either been to them or plan to, but one is in between areas and I’ve never heard of it. I’ll check it out. I’ll also pay special attention to the venues she’s suggested I look at round here.

Down the street, I go into a large chainy type looking bar and, from the choice of drinks and snacks they have, I quickly realise it’s a Greene King pub, the chain I used to work for. I don’t have high hopes. These hopes start to get lower when I wait and wait for the manager to come down. I even start to think about just leaving. This is surely going to be courtesy at best. Well she comes down, I do the pitch thing and she’s very attentive. I finish and she tells me that they do have a budget for this, but it’s all gone for now. The last of it was used up to run an all day music festival outdoors and indoors of this very bar. It will include a few acts who will be using it to warm up for their Glastonbury appearances. She says that if we want, we can have a half hour slot. We can do what we want with it and it will be unpaid,m but she will film it and pass the video around bars she knows with budgets for music. I think this is something worth going for, especially in trying to open up a new area. And the way she talks, she seems well plugged into the music scene and who’s doing what where. I think this is a place we want in to, regardless of fee. I tell her I’ll check with Dan just to confirm and I’ll be right back to her. In the interests of keeping it all together, I’ll move forward a little again. Dan confirms, she loves our videos and we’re on. Sunday June 12. Indoors, 7:30pm. Half an hour.

Now I have one more venue to visit and it’s one I was recommended to earlier. I go in and once again get an assistant manger but the place is quiet and he’s really interested in what I have to say. He asks how much we charge and says it is something they do want to get into. Do I have a card? Damn. I’ve given a card to every venue I’ve been in today. I left home and my wallet was thick with them and I decided not to bring any spares. Any other day it would have been comfortably enough. Not today. I’ve run out on my very last venue. I explain this to him and get his email address. Rather than wait for the day it happens, I’ll jump ahead right now and say that a few days later I get an email back from him. He’s forwarded everything onto his general manger and says he’ll be in touch in the next few days to set up a meeting.

This is the first time I’ve visited an area and every single venue has left the door open. Alright, it’s very much to a greater or lesser degree but I have not received a single all-out no all day and I’ve got a lot to follow up on. That really is something.

Day 147

Thursday May 26

I finish my detailed application for my first casting agency today for extra/walk-on work in commercials, TV and movies. As well as bringing in a bit, for want of a better word, extra every now and then, I think it could make great diary material. However, at the end of the application process is the terms and conditions you must sign off on. They strongly suggest you read it rather than just click accept. I do. It contains this sentence: ‘You must not post any comments or photographs on any website, blog or social network about any production you have worked on (this includes Facebook, Twitter and Marks Diaries). Oh alright, it doesn’t really say Marks Diaries. If you breach this clause we will immediately remove you from the casting book. Oh dear. I may be in breach of contract just writing this. I’ll shut up about it now. I’ll see what I can do about that as I get to it because I think it could be all really interesting stuff but I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’d rather err on the side of caution. How often do you think I do that?

After this, my plan for tonight is to go and hit up Ronnie Scotts for my second go at that jam session and maybe get in a little more socially this time. Then this happens.

Jenn is a member of an Everton fan club and I’ve been to a few games at the bar of the chairman, not to mention I’ve played at it. This particular bar was asked a few weeks ago to supply Everton fans as extras for a major commercial. It paid a decent amount and Jenn suggested I throw my hat in despite not being an Everton fan. I did, even going so far as to get myself pictured in an Everton shirt for it. I heard nothing back. No problem. Today, she gets a call saying things have gone slightly frantic over there. Times and locations have been changed and changed again until it’s become inaccessible for a lot of fans, not least because of the now 6am on set time. They’ll take anybody and everybody now. I make the call, get the fee agreed and get myself on it. The day I make my first application to be an extra and, in totally unrelated circumstances, I get my first extra gig.

Given that this is cash in hand work – all to go on my tax return at the end of the year of course, and given that I’ll have to leave about 5.30 in the morning to do it, Ronnies is going to have to go by the wayside. Not least because last week I got home considerably past 4am. Could I physically do it? Probably. But would I have a face the producers would be happy to put on screen, however fleetingly? Probably not.

Oh, I also didn’t say last week that Ronnies is damn expensive. Eight quid to get in and more than fiver for a bottle of beer. I’m saving on that and making it on the extras gig. Here we go. Repeat in a tuneless manner for a well known football song.

Day 148

Friday May 27

Today, however briefly, I work up close and personal with a bona fide legend. A global icon and international household name who fully transcends his sport and the passionate allegiances within it. However, remember those rules and regulations I spoke about yesterday? Well they apply here too but not quite as stringent. Instead, it’s requested that we refrain from any kind of postings about the experience until the advert is aired, then we can do what we want. So I will respectfully adhere to that and hold back on posting about today until the time is right.

All this begins at 6am and finishes a little after 4pm. I don’t think I’m breaking any contractual confidentialities saying that. Section II Clause IX: Under no circumstances should you divulge you worked a full work day. Don’t really remember reading that to be honest with you.

When I get back home, I have a few hours and then it’s off to this new jam I’ve heard about. Arch1 it’s called and it’s in a strange looking place and I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to get home after it. They go on until they feel like finishing so this could be a late one.

I walk this lonely road…la la la.

I check my maps a little further on and see I’ve completely overshot the place. Ah. There it is on the map. A little road leading off into a cul-de-sac. I remember seeing it now. I track back and turn into it. On a little further and it leads downhill. This means the path falls away from the road. As it does, the road is kept going by a brick wall filled with arches, much like a railway bridge. These arches are filled in with doors of different businesses. That explains it. The first one must be Arch1. And yes. There it is. I get closer and am able to see inside. A tiny space snug right in the arch. A few chairs and tables face a small stage. There’s no ‘this must be the place’ about it.

After stopping to take a picture, I walk in feeling like a gunslinger entering an empty saloon. Once in, I’m able to see the tiny bar to my left, set back in the wall. And there’s someone in there although his back is to me as he leans into a fridge. ‘Oh, hello,’ I say.

He stands and turns. ‘Hi there,’ he says right back holding his hand out. His name’s Robert. I know this because he tells me.

The website says it starts at nine so I think I’m not going too well when I don’t manage to leave until around 8:45 to get the overground train down to a station called Star Lane in east London, near West Ham. I get off and wonder where the hell I am. Well, I have an idea. High in my field of vision as I walk across the bridge over the tracks is the Millennium Dome, or The O2 Centre. But the London skyline is little more than a silhouette in the distance. We aint in Kansas anymore. I check my maps on my phone and get myself pointed in the right direction. This doesn’t make anything any clearer at all. I’m on a road cutting through a modern, clean looking but very large industrial estate. There’s a housing estate nestled somewhere within it but very little in the way of anything that looks like it might hold a jam session. There are certainly no musicians flocking to the place.

He says I’m the first which I really didn’t see coming. I tell him I was sent here on the recommendation of Andrew, the Anaconda bass luthier and yes, he knows him. I tell him the place looks spectacular and we have quite a chat about it. It’s been here around 10 years and he’s run jams all over London. Once very well established, he fancied having something out of the way. What that ensures, he says, ‘Is that every person who comes through that door loves music and is serious about their art.’ That’s one way of putting it. And he confirms that yes, they do indeed carry on until they feel like stopping. He also says there’s no formal list of who does what when that you see in a lot of jam places. Instead, what he describes is more like a house party with people just taking it in turns and organising it more or less among themselves.

While he busies himself with continuing to get the place ready, I sit back and take it all in. I’ve never seen anything like it. After a while, a girl comes in and I’m introduced to her as Sophie. She’s come from Croydon and is a regular. Calling herself a beginner harp player, she says she dabbles but mainly loves to get into the vibe of the jam. She’ll be leaving earlyish to be able to get the train home. We have a chat for a while and she finds it hysterical when she asks how I’m getting home and I answer, ‘No idea.’ It’s about this time that I tell her and Robert that I once went to a jam session in Spain and ended up ‘sleeping’ on the beach before getting a bus to the next town in the morning. If you’ve not read that particular story, let me direct you to the following link in which you should go to Day 5/6: https://marksdiaries.wordpress.com/2015/12/19/day-three/

When we’re joined by two guys, guitarist John who’s never been here before, and his friend Steve, along for the ride, there are four punters in the place, three quarters of whom are newbies. Not only is this John’s first time here, it’s his first jam session period. He’s been meaning to get to one for a while and has now got round to it. Brilliant. I meet people all the time who say it’s something they mean to do. I tell them about the jams I do and say they should come along, and the next time I see them, they’ve still not made it to one and are still saying it’s something they really should be doing. Well here’s someone who really is doing it.

After chatting for a while, 10pm rolls round and Robert asks if we fancy getting something started. I suggest that for John’s first jam, he really should wait for a drummer, just to give him the full experience, but John’s having none of that. He just wants to get going. Great. Get going it is then.

It’s going to be a three piece as Sophie’s joining us. As for timekeeping, that’s going to be my job and I’m going to just have to keep it really simple with two essential newbies to look after. But there’s no audience so we can all just enjoy it with absolutely no pressure. We set off on a blues and it’s great all the way. The two of them are assured, I think I give the solid base they need and we work our way through a perfectly acceptable blues jam sans drummer.

They want to go again as soon as we finish. There’s no-one else here so we do that. While we do, a few more people turn up and nod along approvingly. When we finish and leave the stage, we’re introduced to them as Micheal, a drummer, and Jazzy Ron. I’ve heard of Jazzy Ron and tell him so. This seems to surprise him but he says someone said something similar to him a few days ago. I guess if you’re called Jazzy Ron you’re going to leave a bit of a trail.

Micheal’s well warmed up now and is all good and ready to take on the stage with a drummer. Jazzy Ron has his own bass with him and I leave him to take the stage. They go on for a while and, true to the word of Robert, me and Ron take turns on the bass. Sometimes Robert himself comes and joins us on harp and he plays it seriously well as you would expect. Then we’re joined by a sax player, Alan. A couple of people turn up and just watch as well. Wow. A whole audience to play to.

Time passes before we know it and Sophie has to go home, having contributed quite well to the sounds of the night. Then, an hour or so later, John and Steve call it a night. I carry on swapping with Jazzy Ron while the other guys just stay up there, Robert coming to join intermittently. By now we’re into jazz standard territory and Michael lends us chord charts on his phone. This is really great practice for me as I start to get my jazz chops going with occasional bits of advice from Jazzy Ron on how much or how little to play. This one’s mainly root and fifth, go free there. That kind of thing.

When Michael leaves, we have no drummer. Do you think that’s going to stop us? With no takers, I jump onto the kit. Now, I am no drummer at all. So I don’t try to play the full thing. Instead, I just keep simple rhythms on the snare while sometimes employing the hi-hats with their raise and snap down adding a little to it. I think I get into something of an acceptable flow given the circumstances. The only little thing is, while I’m doing this and having a fine old time at it, another sax player walks in who I will be introduced to as Ollie. He’s never seen me before and his first impression is of a guy who’s walked into a far out of the way jam session who doesn’t even know the rudiments of instrument he’s supposedly playing. I take the first opportunity to tell him I’m a bass player, not a drummer. He gets into it though and mucks right in with Michael. There’s no taking it in turns there. They just work out their parts between them and we have two horn players.

As well as the other musicians, the audience members have also left by this stage but it all carries on very much as promised. I get into a bit of a sticky situation when we try to play Autumn Leaves, only in a far different key to the one I’m used to. I am able to transpose it on the spot but something here isn’t translating at all. Well, if you remember, I did get up at 4:30am and then spent the day on a very hot film set. Oh yeah. It was very hot. I think I’m OK spilling the beans on that one too. Just look up today’s date and you’ll see it was the hottest day of the year so far. What this means is that I’ve been up nearly 24 hours, a lot of that in quite considerable sun, and have had a drink or two. I think we can assume I’m not quite at my best right now. They ask me what key I want it in and I tell them. No problem. We’re away. One Autumn Leaves coming right up.

It’s almost 3am when a natural close comes to things. We all feel that yes, we’ve taken this thing about as far as we can for tonight and it’s time to make our way home. This should be fun.

It’s now that Ollie says he can take me as far as Finsbury Park in his car. Result. This is just down the road from Camden. So that’s what he does. I get out of his car there, saying all the right grateful things. He really has saved me what could have been an I don’t know what. Out on the street, I get my bearings and have my second piece of luck in the last half hour when a night bus to Camden trundles by. Lovely. Once in Camden, I do the decent thing and walk the rest of the way home. I walk in the door a little after 4 to end a 24 hour day. Jack Bauer’s got nothing on me.

Day 149

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Sibylline

Saturday May 28

I get what is far and away my strangest ever compliment today.

Me and Jenn have gone into nearby Tufnell Park to watch the Champions’ Leage Final between the two Madrids. Alright, yes there are two others and I have been to see them both, but you know what I mean.

Just before half time, Atletico get a penalty. Cheering all over the place. The drunk guy stands up. Right in front of the screen. OK. He’s excited about the penalty. People stand up. Only stays standing up. And stays standing up. This goes on for so long I tell Jenn I think I’m going to go and have a word with him. Before I know it, she’s off. I didn’t see that coming. She asks him nicely. He doesn’t even turn round. She asks again, this time the guy’s friend joins in and is motioning him to sit down. He’s getting lairy now. Jenn gets a dismissive arm followed by him turning round and doing the aggressive thing.

She turns round, shrugs at me and continues to her seat. This has happened in front of the entire pub. My turn.

I go and at first ask him, in Spanish to please sit down. His friend does the same. We are right in the middle of the whole crowd of Spanish who are spread across the screen and some way either side of it, and of course forwards and back. I get met with what equates to a swear accompanied by hand gestures artistically appropriate to the moment. OK. Again in Spanish, I tell him if he doesn’t sit down I’m going to make him sit down. The same response. Without hesitating I grab his shoulders and slam him down into his chair. He stays there and doesn’t say another word. Doesn’t even turn round. I tell him not to make me come back. His friend doesn’t say anything either. Job done.

We get a decent table in the middle of the bar facing the giant screen and the place fills up quite nicely. In front of us, a massive group of wildly cheering Spanish fans gradually accumulates, all adding brilliantly to the atmosphere. One of them is clearly very drunk; before the game even starts, he’s introduced two pints to the floor. By the time it does start, all his clapping and cheering has pretty much ceased.

I turn round and get grabbed by someone immediately behind him. A Spanish guy speaking in perfect English. ‘Hey, you can’t just do that to people.’ ‘Yes I can,’ I say. Blood a little of the way up, I tell him how it went down. My friend asked him to sit down. His friend asked him to sit down. Then I asked him to sit down, again with his friend joining in. He didn’t listen. What happens next stuns me. The guy says, ‘Look, you’re a great bass player but you just can’t do things like that.’ This snaps me right out of aggressive mode. No idea where or when he saw me but he clearly knows me, or of me at least. ‘Oh, thankyou very much,’ I say, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. Then I’m on it again without repeating it all here. I finish by saying, ‘Mate, he was standing in the way of the whole pub. And there was a penalty going on.’ He stops and thinks about this for a second. ‘You know, you have a point.’ Thankyou very much. Now it’s done.

Later, my remonstrator walks by our table and gives me a big smile and thumbs up. I return it. All friends again. The seat guy? He disappears. No idea where he went. As for the penalty, Atletico missed it. They miss one in the shootout to decide the whole thing as well. Real win.

I like to think it all looks something like this.

Day 150

Sunday May 29

First paid gig in Angel. A daytime starter of 3pm for a two hour set. We’ve been asked to take our full system, small as it is, to work with the system at the venue, The John Salt. We weren’t going to take the amp as we were expecting to go through the house PA. But past experience has told us it’s better to have than to need. At a gig a while ago we didn’t take it as we were told we didn’t need it, then when soundcheck time came round, none of the equipment worked. A solution was finally found without one of us having to return to Camden to get the amp, but for a while of that one, it looked like the show was off. Maybe we would have gone completely unplugged, acoustic, two vocals and no bass. I just don’t know. I think we were too engaged trying to sort the problem to think about contingencies. Then the problem did get solved so we didn’t have to resort to alternatives, or even think about it.

Well we have the amp today, despite walking into a place with its full system. And guess what? None of it works. Well, we can’t get it to work anyway. Valeria, my contact for this gig, isn’t in. Instead, the welcoming duty manager Dan is on the spot. But he’s no PA expert. He comes and tries to help out but he can only really repeat what we’ve done.

We tell him we’ve got our own amp there and maybe we should just go ahead with that. OK. It’s a solution and it’s not like the last time something like this happened. We have the means to keep it on. But Dan says there’s someone down the road who knows about all this. He puts the call in and we wait. We’re only a few minutes to showtime right now but it’s all chilled. We’re the first band on and there are only a few people in. It’s not like we’re backstage with a baying mob out there. They know we still have to soundcheck and they’re happy to wait until this problem’s fixed. Fine by us. When the guy arrives, I see it’s Alex from The King’s Head. Dan explains they’re a sister pub. I had no idea. Me and Alex have a quick hello and I introduce him to Dan, then he’s onto see what he can do. For all his expertise, the same as us. Nothing. Something is actually wrong with the equipment. I feel quite a deep sense of relief. Imagine if he’d come in and said, you didn’t turn such and such on. But no. Looks like we did everything right and the thing wasn’t working. He messes around with it for another ten minutes and we offer again to use our own gear and get started. Still no. Alex has it. He leaves and returns a few minutes later. I don’t understand exactly what it is but it seems a certain part of the desk wasn’t accepting any kind of inputs so he’s gone off and come back with some kind of adaptor so we can use a different part of the desk we weren’t able to before. Finally, this works. Our mixer’s plugged into this and now we have sound in all the speakers of the bar, including the open plan upstairs. Which is exactly what they wanted. Our little amp, adequate as it would have been for this bar, wouldn’t have done that.

I announce through the mic that we’re going to do a little soundcheck and then begin. There are perhaps ten people dotted about the place. Saffy’s there with a few friends and Jenn will be coming too.

During soundcheck, we get to a point where everything’s fine and we’re just about ready to go. Then I ask Dan to turn the bass up. There are a few people sitting to the left and slightly behind me and I hear one of them say, with incredulity and a little amusement, ‘Turn the bass up?’ Damn. I’m so preoccupied with soundcheck I don’t turn round and explain what’s just happened. I’m not trying to make the bass louder. Instead, I’ve just noticed that in getting a decent level I’m having to hit the strings quite hard. That won’t work for two hours and it will definitely be no good for soloing when I have to fly over the strings with a light touch. No-one will hear anything. So by having the bass turned up, I’m able to lay off the strings while keeping a decent volume, and I’ve still got enough in reserve to add a little extra when it comes to the solos. Of course I wouldn’t have explained all that, but enough to let them know I wasn’t turning the bass volume up, just making it easier for myself to play. Kind of like having a louder microphone; the quieter I can sing, the more control I have and the better my voice sounds. Once I start to have to go loud, I can lose control easier, and there’s a greater risk of voice breaking and pitching.

As we start, I see Dan the duty manager getting into it a little and singing along, and Alex sticks around. This is particularly good seeing as he’d been planning on bringing us in for a trial show in his bar. Maybe he’s seeing this as the trial show now. If he is, he seems to be happy enough with what he’s hearing. As we roll on, the place starts to fill up a bit more and people also get warmed up. Of course they’re carrying on with their conversations over there but the reactions start to get bigger and bigger. And, in front of us, all the bar staff are singing along.

We’ve saved our newest song for last. Seven Nation Army. With it being an early gig, we’re not anticipating an encore but when we finish there really is quite the reception from the not too massive audience. We could probably continue and play one or two more but for my own thing, I don’t try to engineer encores like some acts do. And I’ve already said that was our last song. If they’re screaming and baying for more, great, give it to them. But even if an encore is called, if it’s only a few people and more half hearted and polite than anything else, I’m generally not up for doing one. I’m not sure if I’ve told this story before, but on the total flip side of this, I once saw a really bad Elvis impersonator in a holiday camp style gig. He finished and went backstage and people got back to whatever they’d been doing before. Over the PA, and obviously him, we heard, ‘Do you want more?’ Barely a response in the house. Louder. ‘Do you want more?’ A few people actually called out, ‘No.’ But yes, he then came out and did his ‘encore.’ I hadn’t even seen a bass up close at that point, but there and then, I decided that in the unlikely event I ever played a show and if I had anything to do with it, I was only going to do an encore if it was real.

As we’re packing up, Alex comes up to me and says, ‘Great show. I’ll be in touch about getting a date sorted in my place.’

As for the question from a few days ago – ‘Do we really have a two hour set?’ The answer is still not quite. We threw in a few originals at the beginning because Saffy and her friends asked for them but we still came up just a little short on the two hours. But with the late start and everything going on, I think we were the only ones keeping track of time so no-one was shouting that we had five minutes left or whatever it was. But yeah, if we’re to get to that two hour mark, a few more numbers are yet to be added.

This is what it sounded like.

And plonked straight into the middle of the rock’n’roll medley

Day 151

Monday May 30

I’ve not been too concerned with being a little behind on the diary because I get to catch up almost a whole week in a few quick words here.

An early start this morning for me and Jenn to get the train to Devon where we’ll spend a week with my family – parents, sister Katrina and her husband Steve, and nephews – five and two.

It’s not great timing for me trying to get this Insider thing off the ground but my sister and her husband are both teachers so they have this week off with half term so it made perfect sense. It’s family stuff, it’s nephew stuff and it all does what the brochure said it would. I also see if I can get together with SBL’s Mike Concannon but we just can’t get our diaries to match.

I have visions of getting some stuff done musicwise too, keeping in touch with venues, contacting new ones, practicing and the like. But with two young boys swirling around, it becomes impossible. I wasn’t planning to, but I submit to reality and accept the truth that I’m on holiday.

Day 157

Sunday June 5

Got back yesterday and got into a chat with Jazzy Ron on Facebook first thing this morning. While we’re on it, he tells me about his jazz radio show on Mixlr which starts at 10am on Sundays. Today as it happens. I check in and get a shout out from him and he proceeds to play all kinds of jazz including live stuff from around London and beyond.

After the show we chat a little again and he says that some of the musicians featured today will be around next time we jam. I have no idea where that will be but I’m sure there will be a next time.

Day 158

Monday June 6

For our show in The Maple Leaf, Covent Garden on July 1, we have to play some songs by Canadian artists as we’re playing there on Canada Day, often referred to as Canada’s birthday. In today’s rehearsal we get right down to deciding what those songs are going to be. We’ve got a little into it and looked at a couple of songs while I was away but we’re really getting down to it now. We have a nice surprise when we discover that The Weekend and Drake are Canadian as we already do a song by each of them so that’s a head start. And Carly Rae Jepsen – I know – is Canadian. Another surprise and we’ve had the big hit Call Me Maybe on our radar for a while so that’s also semi learned. So that’s five more or less on the go. We pick out five more including a few Bryan Adams numbers and get to work.

My way home takes me past The Oxford. Walking past it I see one of the regulars standing outside and decide to go and say hello. When I do, one of the chefs sees me and beckons me in to say hi. I do that and a small knot of regulars at the bar call me in for a few man hugs. Then one of them, Mark, insists on buying me a drink. I spent quite a drunken evening round his house once and a touch of jammage happened there too. He’s also one of the bar’s most loyal regulars. I guess I’m staying now. I get bought another drink and no-one’s accepting anything from me. ‘You’re a struggling musician,’ is the refrain.

Just when I think I’m going to be on my way, Tom, one of the mangers at The Vine, and sometime manager in this place, drops by with a couple of friends in tow. I guess I’m still staying. We decamp to the benches outside and I get chatting with one of Tom’s friends called Alex. We’re in mid chat when Tom suddenly says, ‘Oh, I should properly introduce you guys to each other.’ I thought we’d already done that ourselves. We know how. But Tom goes on. Alex, Mark is a really great musician and is in a professional band. Mark, Alex is someone you should definitely know. I almost half already do but please continue. We both look a little bashful now, but between them, I glean that Alex is quite, pun intended and unavoidable, instrumental in booking music for a major group of bars. Alex tells me a little about this and tells me of a night in one of his bars that would be a good place to start. This would be a gig night with a few other bands. I don’t ask but I take it that it wouldn’t be a paid gig but Alex is adamant it’s a good way in and a meaningful introduction. He gives me his personal email address and asks me to send a few links, and he also tells me how to get in touch with the guy who runs the night he’s talking about. While all this is going on, Helen, assistant manager of The Grafton joins us and it’s very much mentioned that we’re going to be playing her bar in a few weeks. These are all exactly the kind of people I spend so much of my time going round trying to meet and here we are just shooting it up over a few beers on an outdoor bar table just off Kentish Town Road.

	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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Day 150

Day 151

Day 157

Day 158

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