Sophie had no choice, Hannah got her gun, but Sam can play it again.

It had to happen eventually, didn't it? A woman was bound to like us eventually, surely? Well, in our case, yes. And rather nicely there were three of the blighters. At the risk of offending half the population I will compare them to the proverbial buses, because we didn't see any for ages and, well, you get the point. And so I can't be accused of one sidedness (towards women and buses), let me say that men are like taxis. They're no more than ten minutes and you tend to have to show them the way home. I thank you.

New singer hits the right note. July 2013. Photo: Nick McMaster

But I digress. First we thought it might be Sophie. Sophie was quirky. She came with a beautiful cheap guitar that she had dragged half way round the world from somewhere like Peru. She never carried it in a case as she didn't want it to be too precious. Funnily enough I once used that rationale with a dead gerbil until social convention intervened. Her lyrics (Sophie's, not the gerbil's) to her own compositions seemed to veer from the the maddeningly simple to the brilliantly violent, as though Phoebe from Friends had started doing PJ Harvey covers after drinking too much coffee in The Central Perk. In my initial enthusiasm I told her that I thought she would take us in an interesting direction. On reflection it would probably have been to an empty gig. Though the best empty gig ever.

To be fair, Sophie was talented but not in the way we needed. I mean, John often wears a Trilby when performing. With Sophie in the band it could have been a tampon. With antlers. When I communicated with Sophie that we might try someone else I think she was equally relieved. Back to the bus analogy. I think to her we were very middle of the road. She was more of a crash though the barriers and drive down an embankment kind of girl.

Crouching Singer, (not) Hidden Talent. July 2013. Photo: Nick McMaster

That someone else was Hannah. She was a singer songwriter. She was a folkie. She had a great voice and could play guitar. She had loads of hits on Soundcloud. She had lovely curly hair. She had photos of her walking through trees looking wistful. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick Hannah, get your gun. You're the new sheriff of The Sweet Ordeal, Pop. 3. Unfortunately despite the ticks something didn't click. It was as though we spoke in English as a second language. Seemingly simple conversations became confused and convoluted. An innocent question about future collaboration became a fraught, complex discussion about copyright. It was as though Joni Mitchell had ditched the Laurel Canyon hippie scene for a job as an lawyer.

Ultimately, with an already impressive back catalogue she was more into being in a collective and having backing musicians rather than forming a band. So Hannah left the scene in much the same way as she entered, via miscommunication.

Whilst this wrong end of the stick stuff was happening another email came from a Sam. She sounded all very, er, sound. Ex professional singer, good at constructing harmonies, the right age (Don't. See previous blogs). Hell, she even had a small child. So, like me and John, she would no doubt have some equally complex reasons for not being able to rehearse on a Wednesday night.

Despite having no recordings or no wistful, wood strolling photos, I returned her email and she came to a rehearsal. She made an immediate impact. She was relaxed company ,apologetically opinionated and showed us a glimpse of her fantastic voice. By the second rehearsal I thought I had found a Frankenstein folk dream combination of Stevie and Sandy. By the third she was no longer apologetically opinionated and right now she talks about our songs being on loop around her head and about what festivals we should try for next year. Songs have transformed. A band has formed.

Turning over a new leaf. Introducing Sam Burgess. July 2013. Photo: John Hamilton

So, Dear Reader, we have found the missing piece to The Sweet Ordeal. But don't worry, after all this human drama I'll still write this blog. After all, I've got a great story about trying to replace my broken tuning peg from my electro acoustic Stagg uke.