Saturday, 30 April 2011

Black Horse

We couldn't even get in to start setting up, it was so packed. Finally, we thought, the word has spread. But no. It was a game of kick ball that had filled the blackie. And no sooner was the whistle blown than the crowd disappeared to find some Plymouth fans to hug.



So, friends and family was the order of the day. But we have good friends and big families. And we made new friends and had at least one offer to start a new family. After a month full of gigs, we were on blistering form. The party was on!





A joyful wee gig all things told. The audience were thrilled at the geometry of our collective shapes. The staff were chuffed at the choice of songs. And we were joie de musique incarnate. At least that's how it felt!

We ended with a bang, an invite to play in Norway, and an unsettling realisation that two of us had a half marathon to run first thing in the morning...  Eek!

Saturday, 23 April 2011

An Evening With...

Bradninch Guildhall

Quite a room. Even our man size stovepipes were dwarfed by the Bradninch Guildhall. But not our ambition - no no!

Getting the gear up the stairs was the first challenge and no easier than last time, when we played the delightful Molly's wedding (see previous). Once set up, all we needed was to get the punters in. Cue the music.

Joan had done the business - and once we got going, the Beautiful Bradninchians did too. A lot of badges changed hands, a lot of dancing was done, a lot of music was made. An impromptu tenth birthday celebration kicked off, adding to the party atmosphere. We worked the big stage and hopefully left a little pixie dust and pizzazz behind us.  We'll be back, Bradders! Next stop The Black Horse...

Saturday, 16 April 2011

Happy Birthday, Ms Gaga

It's not gentlemanly to blog about ones private parties. Oh no. Not gentlemanly at all.

It would be against our firm, upstanding morals to mention that being greeted by a gorgeous hostess wearing almost nothing at all is exactly the sort of thing thats been missing from our adventures to date.

A less well brought up band would probably offer to eat their tumescent stovepipes if anyone could think of a more invigorating sight than that of a healthy, vigorous youthful crowd doing the Timewarp who are actually dressed for the part.

But not us. We are professional, moral, pillars of righteousness. I mean really. Skimpy red spandex and fishnets. Tiny tiny skimpy red satin knickers. And heels. I ask you. Lara Croft, too. Lovely big guns.  Young people today. We've spoken of, indeed thought of, little else.  Little else apart from those tiny tight little red spandex pants. And those big guns.

Oh goodness.

Nurse? NURSE! Bring the mop. It's happening again!

Friday, 8 April 2011

Twy and Twy again!

It was a while since we'd played in Tiverton, and we were up for a Friday night party. Spring was in the air and with our sap rising, we took to the stage.

Tiverton's legendary Friday night effervescence took a little longer to come to conjure up than on our last visit, but effervesce it did.

We partied through the first half, went mildly ballistic at the start of the second and excited ourselves to a bit of a crisis point during a raging Personal Jesus. Having come to a head like a proverbial spent cask, we realised we had maybe been a little premature as we still had a good half hour to play. Oops. Cue apologies and man size Kleenex.

We pulled a few surprises out of the bag, but found that a Springsteen ballad and  a couple of psychedelic wig outs weren't quite what the doctor ordered. Ever the professionals, we managed to rally round for the big finish and encores, and leave on a high.

The kind of high that made the more refreshed elements of our audience climb repeatedly into the 'Tonemobile chanting 'We don't want sex, you know'.

Jobs a good 'un. Cross your legs, Tivvy! We'll be back!

Love ya! X