We've been to Hellions and Back!

With barely 48 hours gone since the triumph at Moretonhampstead, the guitars were still warm as we headed to our next engagement. Upton Hellions! That's not a Celtic warcry, but the home of one of the finest homegrown festival we've played yet!

We set up, and discussed the set during a jazz warm up. We kicked off, and promptly abandoned the set list approach in favour of taking requests, trying to catch one another out with songs of sets gone by and embarking on some fine psych-rock re-toolings of 'the big numbers'.

Maybe it was the wonderful crowd, possibly the idyllic location. Perchance there was something in the Paella, or maybe we'd been lent an edge by the malevolent hornets lurking in the eaves of the tent.

Whatever it was, it worked. From beginning to end, via an expertly coordinated fire works crescendo to Video Killed The Radio Star, it was a blinder, and even a last minute hornet sting couldn't dampen our spirits.  Well, for three of us anyway.

We now officially love NatStock. Our capacity to share the lovin' knows no bounds. Can we come back please?

Whatever next?...

- posted from a wireless telegraph

Please sir, can I have some Moor?

O2 arena? Yawn. Brixton Academy? Bit Pokey. No, you can keep them - give us a flatbed truck in a small Dartmoor Town any day. Even a Thursday.

Yep, mid week carnival was the order of the day. The fine folk of Moretonhampstead know exactly what they are doing. The whole town pulls a mutual sickie on the Bank Holiday Friday and gets a 4 day weekend. We like the way you roll!

The gig was a Tones classic. A first half of drinking music, hide under the flatbed for a jazz interlude and strategy session, then a second half of drinking and dancing music. You know the drill. And we'll let you decide which category Whole Lotta Rosie sits in...

We loved it and want to do it again next year. The real Heroes of the night though, had to be 'The Kids'.

Their GCSE results were still warm. And the future leaders of our country were high on their A* results.

Maybe it was us, maybe it was the illicit scrumpy, or maybe something our middle aged minds haven't even heard of. But anything that gets yoof dancing like loons to our modwardian rock and pop extravaganza while dressed as ballerinas and endangered species can frankly only make the world a finer, funner and better place to be. The picture isn't blurred - they actually looked like that.

To the youth of the Moor, we salute you. The future is in safe hands.

Phrases you never hear #731: Coldplay Save The Day

Following last week's celebrations of Bernie's impending decrepitude, we all joined him heading over the hill, but this time to the Culm Valley for an altogether more youthful 21st Birthday shindig. From the moment Dan turned up at the Cricket Club to a roaring "SURPRISE!" and rendition of Happy Birthday (that's 'Happy C-C to G' Bunting, you tit) we were in a slightly wonky parallel version of a gig. Well, it was in Cullumpton. It's traditional.

Our Floor Fillers inexplicably cleared the floor. Songs intended to provide what is usually a much needed breather bizarrely filled it up again. Spectacularly under rehearsed, we were so supernaturally tight we could have been wearing ultra heat treated Spanx. Pulling old tunes out of the bag was no effort at all (in a desperate, and as it turned out inspired moment Coldplay made it's first appearance since sometime in 2008...). The usual red stage lighting turned inexplicably pink for the occasion. We were treated to our first boob flash (that's another one ticked off the list). We ended the night with a floor full of perky and really rather pert youth giving it some proper welly.

So, all's well that ends well. Dan's a man at 21, we managed to connect with an audience far younger than 95% of our material (and some even younger than the boy Turner) and to top it all, we got to play silly buggers on a cricket pitch. Happy days!

Our next stop is a flatbed in Moretonhampstead High Street. Wethinks a little AC/DC might be in order...
Love you byee!
X

- posted from a wireless telegraph