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?