Hastings, Barnaby's Lounge, Thursday

This will be an early evening gig, with Jude Montague playing at 7 and me playing at 8 p.m.

Playing With Picturebox At Canterbury Arts Lab Tonight

They are great- I love their songs.

This will be a relaxed night with tea and biscuits, please bring real money to make a donation to the musicians.

Scary Rabbit On Rubbish Truck

 

Bored Bulldog Waiting

 

The Chefs Album In My Hands!

 Out on 18th October

Leith Depot With David Lance Callahan And Daren Drummer

Photo filched from Facebook, by Andrew Tully

I got to Edinburgh mid-afternoon, checked in, and went for an all-day breakfast in the Royal Mile. As I sat outside the caff, I witnessed a young couple filming themselves using an obedient drone that whined like a mosquito. I hope the idea doesn't take off (ha ha!). Can you imagine the low-sky overcrowding, the collisions, the arguments, the court cases? Bring on the anti-drone kestrels that I understand have ruined the attempts to introduce drones for general purposes in The Netherlands!

The Leith Depot was rescued from development by a furious public campaign a few years ago, and three cheers for that. The anonymous beige slab buildings run out halfway down Leith Walk, where a human-sized parade of bars and shops takes over. There it was, still there, only this time the music venue had moved downstairs. I had a nice chat to the Onion Cellar crew, the promoters, before David and Daren turned up for their sound check. During that I went for a walk and found Argonaut Books just down the road, where I had a browse for half an hour. I could have spent a lot longer there, but had to go back before doors opened for my own sound check. At open doors, in came Alan McDowall (one time guitarist with So You Think You're A Cowboy), Neil Cooper the music blogger of note, Dot Allan the music tech lecturer and piano star, and Liz Tainsh, Refugee benefit organiser and dog walker extraordinaire. Pals! We caught up a bit before I went on stage. There weren't a huge amount of tickets sold, so Nicola, one of the promoters, had invited her son and a group of twenty-somethings to come along. They seemed to really like my stuff (well, so they said afterwards) and sang along lustily with everyone else when the time came. I even managed to play Things Like This, despite the song fighting back at every opportunity. Hooray for the youth of today, and their willingness to listen to new music from old people!

David and Daren played a fine, tight set that included a lot of the stuff from David's new album. They are very loud; the sound engineer came through the crowd and handed me a pair of earplugs, which was very considerate of him. I have done quite a lot of support gigs for them and now I know their songs pretty well; this was a successful night for them too. Afterwards, and after saying a quick video hello to Jerry Thackeray on someone's phone and a bit more chatting, it was time to wait for the number seven bus in the drizzle. Another nice gig in the bag... which reminds me: someone tried to steal from the back of my guitar bag and left it unzipped. Obviously my set lists and guitar lead were not appealing. But Edinburgh has a bit of an edge these days that it didn't have before. What a pity.

The hostel that I spent the night in was extraordinary: spotlessly clean, but unfortunately opposite an open-air nightclub that pumped loud bass-driven music into the humid air until 2 a.m., complete with raucously-singing punters. The music thundered through the open windows and bashed me on the head. Fellow guests checked their phones regularly, the random lights illuminating our insomnia. The last guest to arrive was sleeping on the upper deck of my own bunk. She clumped up the ladder and dropped a loud thing on the floor that she had to thump back down to find. The sheets on the bed were wonderfully fresh and crisp, however. I 'slept' cuddled up to my guitar with the sleeve of my jacket over my eyes to keep out the light, waking at 6.30 and deciding to go for a shower. It was shockingly, icy cold. I did not gasp, because I'm 'ard.

Big thanks to the Onion Cellar Presents for their support of live music in Edinburgh!

So that's about it: I'm home now. 

But I didn't tell you about the French family on the way up in the train who discussed in the French language making me move seats so they could all sit together. Maman put on her best fake, charming smile to ask me but I'd wedged myself into the corner with my guitar, my breakfast and my book so said 'no'. It turned out that the seat was actually for their dog! I eavesdropped for the rest of the journey. Funny how they assumed that nobody could understand them. To add insult to injury, they opened a box of hardboiled eggs to eat for lunch and the ghastly pong filled the whole carriage.

Oh the adventures, the adventures!

Margaret Glaspy At St Pancras Old Church

Several months ago, I heard a session by Margaret Glaspy on the Riley and Coe radio show on BBC6. 

I have been drawing along to their show almost since the beginning of the year, escaping from television wallpaper that doesn't do anything for my heart and soul. I've got to know their banter, and got to know their musical taste, both solo and together.

One of the pleasures of their show is the different calibres of vocalist, all of them authentic-sounding and unique. Of course they are aware of this, but what a pleasure it is to hear Blossom Dearie, Joan as Policewoman, Amy Rigby, Laetitia Sadier, Pom Poko and La Luz, all with minimally processed voices and maximum authenticity.

Margaret Glaspy belongs in the same category of real singers, threatening almost to yodel but never getting there, always landing perfectly on pitch whether whispering or giving it full throttle, with the poetry of her lyrics slicing through the aesthetic beauty of her vocal timber, forcing you to double-listen.

It was a no brainer. Tickets for last night's gig were the first of many that I have bought as I listen to the Radio 6 show and as almost always, I travelled solo so that I could listen properly and in peace.

St Pancras Old Church is a very special venue. I've been there a lot, and despite its character it shapes itself to the sound of whoever is playing. The statues, the carvings, the striking clock, the mystical shadows... in this case the shape was that of Nick Hornby, who was the support act. 

He has been writing a musical with Margaret, and he read us a short story from a rather incongruous iPad, a story about a woman who moves from US neighbourhood to US neighbourhood sharing enlightenment with the local teenagers, until they quite simply grow out of her, at which point she stages a death ritual and moves on. It was an unusual support act which held its own because of the good storytelling, but I kind of hope it doesn't catch on. Everyone in the audience loved the story, but what would happen if you had a bad storyteller? It chills me just to think of it, trapped there on a wooden seat like at school...

Don't even go there; go back to the Church, where Margaret is approaching the microphone with a perfectly gorgeous parlour guitar. She is confident and calm, occasionally telling micro-stories about gigs she's played, but mostly just playing and singing. Live, that voice is a lot mellower in real life than on her records most of the time, though occasionally she throws caution to the wind and rasps and howls, yet never settling in the sine-wave area that can make Joni Mitchell's singing so unsettling. Confident as a guitarist too, I have to resist working out her chords because I'm an audience member tonight. I'm here to listen and enjoy, and so is the rest of the audience, who are occasionally invited to sing along. At that point I'm a stranger, although I do recognise a lot of her material. 

Please don't hum along in every song, man in the front! Someone must have nudged him: he's stopped. This is a lovely, cathartic evening. It is also inspirational, and it wakes a creative spark in me completely unexpectedly. I have to leave early, but I take the warmth and originality of the evening home with me, along with a postcard of the church signed in advance by Margaret, given to me by the doorman. 

Now there is an artist who cares.

Sometimes, a night out leaves a very meaningful impression. What a pleasure it is to experience an artist who is comfortable in their own skin, who has found their audience and found their level, and who can mesmerise an audience into (almost) total silence and create such an atmosphere of bonhomie!

Roll on live music, roll on forever with the musician/magicians who transport us away from our troubles and away from the harshness of real life. Three cheers for odd little venues that people want to go to, to sit on hard wooden seats with people they don't know, united in listening to a live performance that will never be repeated again in exactly the same way. The little mistake, the weather, the steeple bell striking ten halfway through a song as the church joins in with the show. 

Hallelujah!

Leith Depot, Edinburgh Supporting David Lance Callahan, Friday

Ticket link:

https://www.eventim-light.com/uk/a/656f3b4c9ccc0913cb57ba4f/e/66508a7b62f6e943bb511208?lang=en

Leo Psychs Out The Sparrows

As far as I know, all he's been able to catch is two half-dead pigeons. He lives next door, and is after the sparrows who come to the bird feeder. So far they have managed to evade him, having developed a rapid queueing system with the occasional squabble at the checkout.

October with Wouldbegoods

 Tickets here: https://wegottickets.com/event/620717