It was such fun last night- I remember how much I enjoyed the Scaledown night I played at two years ago. This was different- Mark Braby has a new working partner, and he was playing great stuff before it all started, including Screaming Jay Hawkins. We had both been to the same gig at the Town and Country Club, when Screaming Jay was in his eighties, completely potty with a skull on a stick that he whacked from time to time.
I missed the first bit, but saw a chap who looped his vocals and guitars and made some really interesting soundscapes. He had an Epiphone guitar with a really good sound (gonna have to come back to you with names and some other things). It's such a nice venue, with red velvet chairs and an audience that has come to listen- a very rare thing in London these days. Somehow, Mark manages to control them, as he and they get gradually pissed; it's all very good natured and genial.
I went on with Martin, who has been playing some corporate gigs this week including one in the Gibson Showroom. We did a small selection of songs (Heaven Avenue, Love on the Wind and Loverman), finished with Souhbound (which I learned about 3 hours before we played) and then the crowd wanted more, and Martin played The Black Eyed Rose. He is so very funny and the crowd was roaring with laughter- both of us really enjoyed it. Afterwards, a trio of free-jazzers went on, double bass, trumpet and drums. the drummer was particularly nifty, sawing away at his snare with a file and chasing a small cymbal across the skin with his stick.
It's not often you get such a varied evening and get to play too. Money was collected in a hat and we made ten quid between us, which is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp drumstick. Everything at Scaledown is Scaled down- short sets, no frills, and I like that.
Oh yes- the farmer's wall! Jim was playing fiddle with Martin on Thursday and he said that he has a day job as an art driver. Oasis or Blur or somebody has commissioned Banksy to graffiti a wall as a backdrop for them at some festival in the countryside and the farmer had realised that the wall was probably quite valuable and had put it on a trailer and taken it to Jim's art warehouse. None of the forklift trucks were strong enough to get the wall off the trailer, so the both the wall and the trailer are now in the warehouse, waiting for someone with spondulicks to spare to cough up for the Banksy on the wall.
Mazing what you learn while idly yakking with musicians, innit?
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