Reaches for Peaches at the lonely disco

Oh my, hasn't she grown up? You know the clichéd story. The plain girl who no one notices, suddenly takes off her glasses, lets down her hair, puts on a bit of lippy, and then she's the hottest thing since sliced bread, toasted.

Well, we might not be the one every jock wants to take to the prom, but at least we are being asked out by boys that don't have bowl haircuts and braces. Saying that, we actually wish the girl in the grade above with the bowl haircut and braces would ask us to skip the prom and hang out with her instead. She has some Lucky Strikes, a bottle of Thunderbird and a cassette player with The Smiths on tape. Anyway, I digress. Though I may finish that privately later, fan boys and girls.

You see, since the Brighton Folk gig at The Brunswick we have played three more gigs and have another two lined up, as The Sweet Ordeal live experience starts to create momentum. So much so that we have over 60 followers on twitter: #unstoppable #nextbigthing #whyamihashtagging. Though, when the magnificent Peaches is one of your followers, I am happy to shut up shop quite frankly. #qualitynotquantity #teachesofpeaches #whyamistillhashtagging.

Not waving, but following. Peaches tweets the Sweets. November 2016. Photo: Nick McMaster

The highlight of these three gigs was supporting Michele Stoddart, of The Magic Numbers, on the Brighton leg of her Pieces solo album tour. Yes, that's right of The Magic Numbers. Yes, of the platinum album selling band. Little old us, who only a few months earlier were literally dying on stage at The Westbourne (due to the dreaded lurgies) had now stepped up and supported a musician who we would have wanted an autograph from.

Is that with one 'l' or two? Autograph for Michele. September 2017. Photo: Hannah Beaumont.

To be honest, including this gig, it wasn't our best performance to date. That probably, marginally, went to our Brighton Folk slot at The Brunswick. This was due to having a decent sound check and a larger stage. Our gig with a quarter of The Numbers (thanks Melting Vinyl!) was at the smaller of the Brighton Komedia venues: the studio. The stage is tiny and sound checks over ran, which meant we had to squeeze our band set up on with Michele's set up and only have the briefest sound check ourselves. Though thanks go to the touring support act and Michele band member Raevennan Husbandes who forewent her own sound check for us, and to Ali the sound guy at the Komedia for doing such a great job under time pressure. Oh, and Hannah got to borrow Michele's bass amp. #brushwithfame #oratleastabassamp #stophashtaggingnick

But all told, a minor quibble and we move on adding to our experience and helping us be the best we can be at that moment in time. Perhaps we respond best to pressure, whether it is sharing the bill with The Self Help Group or Michele Stodart, we are pushed to step up our game and expose ourselves to a more expectant audience than one we would encounter at an open mic night or showcase type event. Saying that, with a set up that involves more discombobulating moving around than Ed Balls on Strictly, there's no way we'd make an open mic.

And from this we are definitely growing in confidence, walking off the stage knowing we did a good job. Though I am still personally at the "Really?!" stage. As in, for example, Clara from The Self Help Group at our last gig, in which we supported them, saying that she loved our harmonies. "Really?!" I replied, still not quite believing someone who has the west coast harmony thing nailed on would make such a compliment. The thing is, we know we can harmonise a little and that it sounds good, but the "Really?!" is still there, waiting to pop out like the crocodile at a Punch and Judy show. I wonder if it'll ever go? The "Really?!", not the crocodile.

Live at The Marwood. Really?! November 2016. Photo: Jamie Freeman.

One thing that will of course go, is 2016. Tom Waits once said "Don't look back, because someone might be gaining on you." Well we'll have to risk it, and I like to think that whoever it is will put their arm around us, give us a squeeze and say well done. I imagine though it will be Hannah that gets squeezed. John and I tend to get ignored in these circumstances.

Looking back, at the beginning of the year we had just really started to gel as a band. Sure, the month before had seen us record three demos, but in many ways that was a strange step, like having the shot gun marriage in anticipation of a pregnancy. Yet as readers of this blog will know most of the things we have done so far it is all a bit arse over tit, as my mum likes to say. Usually loudly in public.

So we skip a few steps, take a few risks and end the year in a way we were never expecting but secretly hoping we might be lucky enough to experience in 2017. Back at The Brunswick, this time with a slot at Lonely Disco, the night hosted by local folk legends The Galleons. That was a bucket list gig for sure. We also have a animated video being made for our song Where Do I Go From Here? and finally a website up and running. Our inter band relationship is becoming stronger and this dynamic is creating better songs. As for 2017, who knows? Michele Stodart was only our 4th gig, so see you at the O2 for the 8th! Wherever we end up, please keep tagging along, your support has been fantastic, and your feedback great.

Really?! Really.

Getting on my 'wick

Right, let’s get this straight. We are now a band. We are now a band who can play a set confidently and competently. We are now a band who can play a set confidently and competently in front of a good sized audience and get positive feedback. We are now a band who can play a set confidently and competently in front of a good sized audience and get positive feedback and get our first ever fan request for a photo and a CD. We are now a band who can play a set confidently and competently in front of a good sized audience and get positive feedback and get our first ever fan request for a photo and a CD and get invitations to play again and record with another musician. Amazing what not having pneumonia does for a band dynamic. Yep, right now in the world of The Sweet Ordeal, things are pretty, pretty good.

But moving on from Larry to Craig David let’s rewind.

After the trauma of our current line up’s relaunch and first gig in April, compromised by the dreaded lurgy and sound problems, we still had managed to have enough belief in ourselves to go to Brighton Folk and ask for a slot.

                                     

What's the point? July 2016. Photo: Hannah Beaumont.

Brighton Folk is one of the many folky nights round Brighton, but it is set apart by being held at The Brunswick, having an established audience and a very talented host in musician Amy Hill (Thanks Amy!). In this fair city, The Brunswick is like the Mecca of folk music. To avoid any religious controversy in the midst of the ridiculous Birkini Ban, I am of course referring to the bingo chain rather than the Holy City. And by playing The Brunswick we are in Full House territory. Even well established, critically acclaimed bands, such as our friends The Galleons, who have made albums and tour in vans and everything, still name The Brunswick as the best. Now I am even writing this blog from here after coming in to collect a kettle lead I left behind. That really was the worst thing that happened, which regular readers will know makes it as near to perfect as we are ever going to get.

                                      

All at C. July 2016. Photo: Anthony Palmer.

So naturally this was another step up for us: one that was going to really test our mettle. It was here where we would really find out if this project was worthwhile continuing with, whether we had the material and the talent we thought we had. So, boy, did we rehearse. Even to the point of John agreeing to play a song more than twice in a row. Even to the point of John not trying to sneak in new, brilliant tune to play around with as light relief. We decided on a set and we practiced again and again and again.

Which was important. A band like us are part of the awkward squad. We have a set up that in an established band would be seen as idiosyncratic but in an unknown band could be seen as highly irritating. We are the musical equivalent of a Barnsley based swingers night, swapping instruments and lead vocal duties at the drop of thong. Like our suburban host who prefers to watch his 17 year old lover and not take part, John is always on guitar for every song. Hannah is the sole purveyor of bass and cello and me of uke and glocks, with both of us on keyboard duties. John and I then tend to share lead vocals, with backing vocals rotated between the three of us like our Yorkshire woman between two…actually let’s leave that one there.

So the result is that with every song there is at least some movement, whether bodily or instrumentally. If you have ever seen Katzenjammer it is cool and quirky. But then I’d like to think we would be if we were on a massive stage, with roadies. And super talented.

But in the world of your local folk night we felt that this would be a problem. Too many mics, too many instruments, too much hassle. But then we hadn’t banked on Tom: sound guy extraordinaire at The Brunswick, and calmness personified. We once had advice from an experienced and lovely musician that our set up was too much and too difficult for a band starting their journey, but then he didn’t know about Tom either. Sheepishly getting to the gig with our –assumed – annoying to big-for-our-boots requirements, to set up our six instruments and three vocal mics, Tom took it in his and our stride and put us together perfectly. For the first time ever we had a sound check that gave us confidence (in part thanks to Beth form The Galleons who gave us great feedback) and keenness. So much so that without us begging, afterwards, Tom invited us to play one of his own nights at the same venue.

Taking the mic. July 2016. Photo: Anthony Palmer.

The gig itself then did go really well. Despite the fact that a cold had left me deaf in one ear, which has made me draw the conclusion that I like to have some kind of malady every time I play. I am sure John was trying to stake claim to a cold too. What a softy. There were a few mistakes on the way, the best being Hannah going briefly awry on the keyboard solely down to never having heard it so loud before, but on the whole we felt we had a good solid 6 song set which we can have as the basis for our first period of regular gigging. I even managed to sing lead vocals and play the keyboard at the same time for Finding Land. For me, difficulty wise this was not so much akin to rubbing my tummy and tapping my head at the same time, but more like doing it to someone else, whilst avoiding getting slapped for invading their personal body space.

So, in conclusion I think this year is the year we have become a thing. Other gigs are lining up, a more collaborative way of working is establishing itself and the songs are improving because of it, giving us a more defined sound.

Things are so hunky dory at this rate I might even learn to play my musical saw…or mandolin…or guitarlele just to get another challenge for the next gig. Wait a mo, is that a sore throat I feel?

The 'bourne Objective

Well, reader, I may not have married him, but I did turn up at a pub in Hove with John and Hannah and play for him, and about 30 others.

Yep, as our latest and hopefully last line-up, we finally got that gig under our belt. Much like the belt of a Midwestern trucker, it was on the last notch and underneath the large stomach of quickly fading dreams, drinking in the last chance saloon. Yes, we really did need to get this gig out the way.

Three at last. April 2016. Photo: Rebecca Deeprose

Of course, nothing goes quite to plan in the world of The Sweet Ordeal, and so various nefarious things tried their best to stymie us. Much like Darlene keeps keeping our trucker hanging on at the saloon, saying she will leave Karl this time, just as soon as her next pay-check comes in. And so he is stopped from following his dream of being a beekeeper in Vermont. Anyway, I digress.

A combination of a disappearing mixing desk, sound engineer no show and the dreaded lurgy getting me and John, meant the gig was a struggle. Having to set up and sound check ourselves whilst cobbling together two of our own mixing desks was not the most auspicious start. Trying to untangle leads and work out which jack went in which hole took an hour. Getting the levels right was very tricky. So tricky in fact we probably got them wrong. It was hard to say as when we started playing we couldn't really hear ourselves. In addition, with troublesomely placed mics we occasionally experienced worse feedback than David Cameron's offshore tax interests.

The Sweet Reveal. Playing live at last. April 2016. Photo: Rebecca Deeprose

Boo hoo, poor us.

Yet afterwards our lovely audience gave us some good, helpful reviews, even when I pressed them to be honest. Feeling that waterboarding was a touch over the top to double check they meant what they said, I had to accept that as is often the case when a band is sad because of technical problems, those watching don't really notice.

Funnily enough, the song I was most bothered about -Pity- got the best reviews. With that lurgy, for me later diagnosed as pneumonia, there was concern that we wouldn't be able to manage the vocals on a song that starts with a Capella harmonies and has me singing at the edges of my usual capacity.

But your brave little boy managed it backed up by Hannah and John. Pity wasn't so shitty after all. Which was good as it second in our set and one of our tunes on our demo recording. And, as far as we can remember it didn't include coughing and spluttering.

Our actual set was:

1. Where Do I Go From Here?
2. Pity
3. Slow Down
4. Chinatown
5. Feet of Clay
6. Museum of You
7. Without You
8. God Loves A Trier
9. Still You Fell
10. In Sun Bled Yellow

Or, and yes, I know I have done this before, but its my dead horse and I'll flog it:

1. A song about Chris McCandless who died in the Alaskan wilderness of either food poisoning or starvation.
2. A song about lack of intimacy.
3. A bittersweet song about children growing up.
4. A song about a one night stand.
5. A song about fallibility in relationships.
6. A song about the unwanted end of a relationship.
7. A song with lyrics by John, so I am not sure what its about, but its definitely downbeat, so don't worry.
8. A song about fancying someone. And rain.
9. A song about infanticide, based on a true story.
10. A song about dumping someone at the airport.

Or, more succinctly:

1. Death
2. Sex
3. Sadness
4. Sadness
5. Resignation
6. Breakdown
7. Probably sadness
8. Sex
9. Death
10. Breakdown

Or: 1-10 the usual indie folk subject matter, if its not fey and pastoral.

In the end highlights for me were getting the handclaps right in Chinatown, John's frown of disapproval when I halted Feet of Clay after messing up, and seeing how happy Hannah was playing an 18th century cello. Thanks Evie! And let's not forget the lovely Jon Arthur who supported us and gave that memorable reworking of Freedom, including his much anticipated kazoo solo.

Hive Five Hannah. April 2016. Photo: Rebecca Deeprose

As I say, those who came were wonderful and kindly clapped in all the right places, except at the end of the aforementioned restarted Feet of Clay when there was a deathly tumbleweed moment! Tut tut!
Best of all was the fact we raised about 60 quid for Heads On mental health charity. Though even better than that? I think I know which hole that jack went in after all.