Monday, May 24, 2004

The Whiteadders go forth

Life gets more interesting. Friday I went to see Steve the landlord of the Wheatsheaf, to give him the definitive list of all the acts we’re putting on over next weekend. It’s a bit of a showcase for new talent, and it made me think, perhaps we can do this regularly give new talent a chance to get some public exposure, some live playing experience. I put it to him that we could do this on a regular basis. Maybe once a month. Well it was all agreed on a handshake, except he wants it every three weeks. I put the word out on the street immediately. I’ve already got one E-mail from a band who wants to play. So that’s encouraging.
So now the hard work starts. Actually I’ve already covered a lot of ground. I’ve spoken to the local newspaper and got them on board. Also I’ve got the Peterborough Live Music centre enthusiastic. Hmmm in amongst all that talent out there we might find someone who really shines. That would be great.
Spoke to Simon my partner in this project. He was initially worried that we were going to get paid for effectively doing nothing. I explained to him that we were doing far from nothing. I was doing all the organisation the planning the bookings the liaison with newspapers etc and he was doing the sound engineering on the night. Making sure that each band sound as good as we can possibly make them sound.

Saturday was Del’s wedding. Beautiful day. Except for his father. Del’s parents are known as the Whiteadders. That being a reference to the “Blackadder” series, where the Whiteadders were strict puritans who never smiled, never drank, smoked or did anything vaguely enjoyable. MR Whiteadder came to me during the “standing-about–in-the-church-yard” bit.
“I think I’ve upset Del.” he said. “Last night I mentioned that he was a BIG fat pig. I don’t think he liked that.”
No shit Sherlock! I thought
Later Del and Di were having their pictures taken beneath a beautiful tree full of brilliant purple blooms. Whiteadder turned to me and said “That will be the last year that that tree will bloom, after they’ve been under it.”
I couldn’t believe the vitriol coming from this guys mouth.
Del is one of the guitarists in our band, we all love him to death. On stage he sparkles with energy and humour, and even when he’s falling over drunk, he can still play like he wuz a fucking demon. So it was a bit galling to have to listen to his father continuously making snide and cutting remarks about him and his bride. We were under strict instructions not to rock the boat and ignore the remarks.
Last night (Sunday) we went to see Leons final gig in this country before they go on tour of America (adamleon.com). There was a guy came in wearing a baseball cap. He was already pissed and started dancing all by himself. He had a very strange way of dancing. I decided he’d been taught to dance by Boris Karloff.
Paul came to the shop today. We have a joke, he has the same surname as me so we’re brothers, which is great, except he’s black and I aint. I say “do you think they’ll guess we’re not really brothers?”
He asked how the music was going. I said “Pretty good. Why do ya wanna sing some?”
And Paul went into an impromptu rendition of “Aint no sunshine”. I was impressed. He’s got a great voice. Very soulful which is lucky because he loves all that soul music. Stuff I don’t normally play.
“Can I get you to sing at my Showcase night?”
“I’m working.”
“I’ll get you a backing band, you can do a couple of numbers. Join in on the Mike Da hat and friends nights.”
“yeah ok brother.”


1 Comments:

Blogger Jarle Petterson said...

Unfortunately I won't, for obvious reasons, be able to attend the Mike Da hat and friends night, but thanks a bundle for an interesting piece of reading. And thanks a lot for the encouraging words you left in (or is that "on"?) my blog the other day. Even so, I can assure you that my English skills are indeed limited - at least by English standards, but thanks all the same.
Keep up the good work! I'll make sure to pop in now and then. Cheers! And good luck with the upcoming event. Break a leg - or an extremity of your very own choice.

8:16 pm  

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