Summer Special!

Crikey. Time for the old Autumn Almanac already?

It may have seemed a little quiet on the Tone front of late, but only because, like all mighty bastions of Industry, we went private. But unlike our publicly listed cousins, ours was a strictly time limited arrangement. That's right - we can only dance for The Man in our little blue pants for so long before the longing to reach out and touch you, our loyal Tone Army, becomes overwhelming and we stumble, sometimes only partially dressed, into the pubs of the South West....

But what have we actually been up to? Well.





We've played at a Black Tie stately home do. Turned out to be more Moulin Rouge than Downton Abbey. Great work Somerset - you do decadent so well.

We were joined onstage at the Coaver Club by the Birthday Boy, for a rousing rendition of Mr Brightside - the reaction to which and the slightly Gym-like surroundings put us in mind of being the house band in the Teen Spirit video. Which was a good feeling.




We played on the verandah of one of the finest views in the Exe Valley. And that was just the audience. It was like Devon Life had merged with What Tattoo? magazine. Krys, we salute you.




We played to one of the best looking wedding crowds ever. Lovely lovely people, and we suspect a bit naughty in a very very good way too. Check the video evidence - Braunton 90210. Beautiful Bride crowd surfing to Pretty Vacant? Check. Flashing Uncle? Oh yes.


We returned to West Town Farm to play our first ever Bicentennial. A five way fortieth, with an industrial smoke machine. Barney, Alex and all - an honour. Congratulations once again.



Then the ace in the hole, the triumphant arena that saw our return to the public eye, ThorFest. Thorverton's inaugural beer and music festival saw us in the coveted sunset slot, and a great time was had by all. Are there many villages that can field ten great homegrown bands and twenty barrels of ale? The brains behind the operation was our very own ginger bellowsmith Bernie. Good work, Mr Samuel. Same time next year please.

And most recently of all, a Friday 13th date at our favourite Somerset drinking den, the Racehorse. What could go wrong? Apart from the exploding effects boxes and breaking strings leaving Bunting woefully exposed, filling time with his repertoire of precisely three jokes. Two of which are cheese themed. We smashed the bloody back doors in all the way to half midnight in the end though. Mary, we love the way you do what you do.

And that's us. We went for a bit. But we're back now. We never really went away. And we've missed you. And want to get right up close to you. See you down the front.

Love you byeeeeee! X

- posted from a wireless telegraph

Ashy Ashy Ashy! Hill Hill Hill!

Despite the murk, drizzle and bracing chill wind, we were sure it must be summer - because it was time for the Ashill Beer Festival!

We were headlining the opening Friday night tonight, which was new turf for us having been the Saturday main draw the last two years (see previous editions). What with the weather, many of the good citizenry of the village were keeping their powder dry for Saturday. But if there's one thing you can count on, it's that we will play our little hearts out and sing until our poor blackened lungs are a-quiver.




And we did. Two hours, straight through, no breaks, no let up, no retreat, and at times, practically no audience. But once the sides went back on the marquee and the howling gale and accompanying sideways rain were shut out, we were back in our cosy element and the crowd built up.

And, as we do, we delivered. It was, all said, a great ending to the opening night to one of the finest beer festivals in Devon (mind you, ThorFest hasn't happened yet...). We'll be back next year!




And that is us done for now. The summer garden party and wedding circuit will be keeping us from the public arena until ThorFest, at which we will be fully intending to smash Thorverton's back doors in all the way til midnight.

See you there!

Byeeeeeee!
X

- posted from a wireless telegraph

The Fantastic Four

Its been a bit like bread without the butter of late. Or perhaps more appropriately, The 'Tap without St Hubbins. But rumours of Markie's demise have been greatly exaggerated it seems. That's right, the missing link has been unearthed, the fourth cylinder is firing, the cream is back in our skinny latte, the lead back in our pencil. Whichever way you want to look at it, we're back at full power!

And it was serendipitous that our favourite Exeter haunt, the Bowling Green, should be the epicentre of a Pub Rock Explosion that registered 7 on the Rock-ter scale, what with the best looking bar staff in Exeter being on hand to man the pumps and all. Come the zombie apocalypse, we want to be on their team.




The pub was packed despite the wonderful weather, a testament to our ability to tempt even the staunchest carnivore from a burnt banger. The crowd were excitable to say the least, and up for it from the off. The lessons learned from our enforced three piece experience were put to good use, and it all worked out rather marvellously. You can click this bit if you want to see a video!

Typically, with only three hours available, we didn't have time to play half our stuff, but there's always next time.

We're full steam ahead for headlining the Ashill Beer Festival next Friday night - come on down from ten 'til midnight and have a listen to the rejuvenated, re-energised and some would say repetetive Thorvertones! Friday is, after all, the new Saturday!

Love you long time

Byeeeeeee!
X

- posted from a wireless telegraph