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?
