Thursday, 30 May 2013

You've been listening to... Some Thorvertones

What have we learned in the past week?

1. That with sufficient grit, determination, alcohol and a sufficiently inebriated crowd, we can achieve the impossible

2. That nobody should ever, ever, on any account, consume a Prawn Kebab that's been left out for the day then barbecued in the dark.

That's right - as we geared up for a return to the Racehorse (which is now surely the home of some of the more cockahoop receptions we've been blessed with), news came through the wireless telegraph that Markie was laid low.

"Never mind", we thought. "Given his iron constitution and masters degree in self-medication (as evidenced by the New Years Eve performance which he sadly can't remember), he'll be fit as a fiddle by showtime" ejaculated Bernie in remarkably realistic prose.

But it was not to be. Barely able to stand, having not eaten in five days and visibly reeling from the shock of the elevated sewerage charges levied by South West Water in lieu of his loo, he had to hold a trembling hand up in defeat.

After much soul searching, and a massive kick up the arse from Mary from Tipperary, we decided to press on as a threesome. And once we'd got that out of our systems, it was off to the Racehorse.




Despite initial nerves, we hit the ground running. Four songs in, during 'Gloria', and it started to become apparent that we might just get away with it. Two sets in, and a couple of impromptu stage invasions later, it became clear that the Racehorse Massive had drunk enough to almost guarantee it.




And when, apropos of nothing and having not played it in over a year, we decided to launch into 'Sally Maclalane' in honour of our Gaelic Mistress, the place went mental and we knew we'd be able to leave with our heads held high. Phew!

There's a bit of a video from earlier in the night to be found on YouTube here (thanks Claire!), if you want some insight into how we sound 'UnMarked'. And if you want to make a contribution to the 'Markie Get Well' fund, Jamesons is £2.30 a shot down the Exeter, he'll be there by next Wednesday.

See you soon.

Love you byeeeee!
X




- posted from a wireless telegraph

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

Call that a bank holiday?

Cos we ruddy don't!

It's been a busy couple of weeks over at Tones Central, and not always for the right reasons...

Starting on a high note, as Marky is wont to, we helped raise funds for the Ottery Scout Hut in a characteristically chaotic manner by playing the devils music at ear splitting volume at The Instititute whilst dressed in our bestest scouts uniforms (pictured), and encouraging a host of most un-scoutsmanlike behaviour amongst the natives.






Good work Ottery - here's some bad footage of us in action playing yet another inappropriate number. We want to come back. We promise not to dress as small boys next time. Except Harry. He can't help it.

Where next? Why, the Twyford! What's that I hear you cry? Closed for business? Mais non, mon cher - they're properly ouvert and wanted us back to do what we do! And we did. And it was all going so well - here's a video to prove it.






What we weren't counting on was the pint of water, oh so precarious, on the shelf above the mixing desk, teetering and vibrating with every Bunting rumble, edging ever forward until... Oh my! Cue sizzling electrical goods, loss of all power, embarrassing early finish, and retreat with tail between legs. People of Tiverton, we have not been more contrite, and promise not to do it again. We can't afford to. In five years we've never had to leave early. We'll be back.






So on to Sunday, and a chance to play at the best one day festival in mid Devon in Mid May. The sap was rising, and it was looking like actual Spring. We had a lovely time. Great crowd, great organisers, lovely stage and sound (and fortunately for us, someone else's PA...). Couldn't have wanted more - except maybe more time.

We're a tantric band, more accustomed to a three hour odyssey of a set - a journey, a slow build, an orgasmic crescendo. You know the sort of thing. Only having a half hour felt more like a quick knee trembler behind the bike sheds. But you can't beat the odd quickie, and we had a whale of a time. Thanks for having us, Bow. we'd like some more, please! More video ahoy!

And alls well that ends well. After five days in the airing cupboard, the desk has dried out and lives to fight another day. To the Tone Cave people!

Love you byeeeeee! X

PS - here's one for the ladies.




- Posted from a wireless telegraph