Turner Goes Fourth...

I can't believe it's taken so long to mention this. Last Wednesday, whilst rehearsing 'Behind Blue Eyes', the Thorvertones managed their very first FOUR PART HARMONY.

"Yeah - so what?" I hear you cry.

Well for starters, it means that you can look forward to Harry Turner coming out. From behind his saucepans, and joining the musicians at the front.

If the prospect of a full length Turner doesn't get your attention, then nothing will.

But we're not ready quite yet. We're still honing our barbershop skills to perfection (or as near to 'perfection' as the strict parameters of our Punk work ethic will allow).

There's still plenty to look forward to though, including some new medleys:

'Whole Lotta Rosie' and 'Pretty Vacant'
'Whiskey in the Jar' and 'Wild Rover'
'My Generation' and the 'Hokey Cokey'

Love you! Byeeee!

- posted from a wireless telegraph

A winters tale...

The old stovepipe is getting more irregular than the technicolor belchings from the Vatican, and in a fashion not entirely dissimilar to the bong-based confusion that saw 'Mad' Franky annointed as pontiff, we've stumbled through the winter months in a haze of stage theatrics and flu remedies.
From where we stand now, the weeks and months since New Year's triumph are a little hazy.

We had to bid a sad farewell to the Twyford in January. Global Economic Meltdown has finally reached Tiverton, and nailed down the coffin lid of one of our favourite venues. We're a little light on the details, but I'm sure it was marvellous and I put our mental blank down to the aftermath of New Years Eve. Mark's hangover of New Years week was such that even his teeth were visibly throbbing, so anything is possible.




February? Bow. As in Selecta. Always nice to play on a big stage - and now the citizens of the people's republic of Bow know what to expect at the Heart of Devon festival in May, they have plenty of time to make alternative arrangements. There may have been another gig in February. Again, answers on a postcard.




There has definitely been a trip back to the Pinhoe and Whipton Labour Club. Although largely apolitical, I can't see us accepting a similar invitation from Cameron's cronies, but we would make for a great soundtrack to a Billingdon Club style riot - especially now the Onanism Suite is coming together.

We've played a wedding. Notable for its wonderful lady bride, sweet shop, bonhomie, and the unwelcome reappearance of the 'Bolham Revealer' (pictured) an excommunicated 'Fifth Tone', who's amphibious exhibitionism got us in hot water with the WI on more than one occasion before we spurned him. We're stronger without his free jazz trombone.




We've been to Tiverton again, but breaking new ground at the Hare and Hounds. Our sound was strange, but apparently welcome. Whether we'll be back we don't know - the 'business for sale' sign doesn't bode well, especially after the Twyford closed down. The Lengths some landlords will go to to be rid of us know no bounds.

Next stop the Bowling Green - and a return to coherence. Maybe.

Love you!
Byeeeeee
X
- posted from a wireless telegraph

Tap... tap... tap.... Is this thing on....?

Uncle Bernie here. I'm not usually found at the controls of the blog engine, but brother Bunting has asked that I summarise the run up to the new year in sparkling prose.

Trouble is... my short-term memory is shot to pieces after forty years on the laudinum, and I spend must gigs with my eyes shut tight to prevent my eyeballs from popping out.

Well, here goes... The main theme running through the gigs in December was illness. I have seldom seen such displays of stoicism as would compare to the lads bravely soldiering on through dysentery-like symptoms, simply to keep the patrons of our various haunts entertained.

That said, there's a lot to be said for the curative effects of the best-looking-bar-staff-in-Exeter (c) at the Bowling Green. On this occasion, nobody was afflicted too badly, and spirits were high as we dusted off the Christmas single, managing to get the whole place singing, even without the aid of the panto-style lyrics board.

By the 22nd of December, the Exe Valley was well and truly submerged. I always thought that if Stoke Canon ever made it onto the national news, Tessa would have something to do with it. However we hoved bravely through the rapids that were once the main road, amidst soggy ITN reporters and degraggled refugees in dingys and got  to the Whipton and Pinhoe Labour Club well on time. I had, by this point, eaten a whole packet of 'Vocalzone' lozenges, so my voice was in great shape. Pity the same couldn't be said of my pants.

New Years Eve. Well, there lies a tale. Markie 'Mark' Williams had taken to his bed some days earlier, and was a sorry sight as he limped into the Racehorse, and collapsed on a monitor. We considered setting up a temporary field hospital in the kitchen, but sadly it was full of canapes.

The lad did good though, seeing in the new year by boshing an entire bottle of Jamesons (I swear - we should have shares) and kindly donating an extremely expensive stratocaster to some drunk girls after losing his glasses.

Good work - bring on '13.

x