Memoirs of a Musician

In 2005 we supported a well known 80s band at the City Hall. This band had several number one hits and following what I can only presume as the singer getting a particularly big gas bill, they decided to reform and tour the UK.

We got the gig through our then manager, a larger than life (in every sense of the word) chap who had the gist of the gab and a capacity for blagging that was without compare in the city.

So, we ended up third on the bill behind two 80s behemoths, at the second biggest venue in the city. Now all we had to do was sell the tickets... we were able to claim back £5 from each of the £12 tickets we sold, but not those sold direct from the box office: the headliners got them.

The first sign of trouble arrived when we got to the venue, as requested, at 4pm for a soundcheck. Gear was dutifully loaded into the venue and we waited... and waited.. and waited...

Eventually the headline band rolled in, exhibiting a diva like attitude unbecoming of their current level of chart success. Still, they began to set up their gear and we dutifully watched their soundcheck.

The alarm bells should have rung when we were asked by the tour manager where our sound engineer was. Sound engineer? We'd never supplied one before, the kind of gigs we played came with their own. Luckily the manager made a deal with their sound guys and got us out of that mess. On to the soundcheck...

Or not, as the venue started filling with people as the doors opened at 7.30, two minutes after the headliners finished going over and over and over and over till they got the sound they wanted.

Needless to say our performance was sketchy at best, but the experience of playing with a well known band in front of so many people was without compare.

In fact, the highlight of the evening was when the watching masses began to trickle away and it became apparent that we had sold more tickets than the starts of the 80s!

But the music scene and the unwashed masses are fickle, and after we played the local toilet venue the following month to just the bar staff, it was only a matter of time before the band went our separate ways.

We played our last gig of the year on Wednesday. Despite being up against England vs Croatia we still pulled a decent sized crowd of friends and family, and a good night was had by all.

Decent money this time - £40, which went straight into the kitty for our album recording. We've done seven tracks so far, 3 or 4 to go. I'll fill you in on the recording process in a future entry.

Highlight of the night was the bass player leaving his coat at the venue and thereby locking himself out of his house.

Our drummer had to exchange harsh words with a punter while the support act played their set. This female was loudly questioning "why are you clapping, they are rubbish" and when challenged over this breach of etiquette she retorted that she "promotes and books bands". That would make her the arbiter of all musical taste then...

She was offered the option of "sticking around and not clapping to our band, or going to a venue without live music".

She chose the latter.

Harrogate. Very posh town, we were playing in a coffee shop. Arrived nice and early, and got set up. Beautiful building, with a lovely atmosphere, nice cakes and a country music record playing.

We set up, soundchecked, ate some burgers (it's a romantic life, you know) and waited for the audience to arrive.

Presently, a handful of people turned up. Perhaps the most unusual thing was that most of them seemed to be in the company of their carers. In fact, the more unusual thing was that it was one of the best audiences we've ever played to - fully appreciative of the music and - for once - a room full of people who didn't want to talk over us!

The drummer commented later it was like playing a gig in Royston Vasey. He had a point. We'll be playing there again soon - this kind of gig is the reason I do what I do.

Payment? 35% off our food and 2 cans of Carlsberg each. Awesome.

Today we played at one of our contemporaries' album launches. 5 acts, playing 20 minutes each. The whole evening was hosted by an overenthusiastic compere with a ukelele.

We played well - by our standards - and at least managed to play our six songs something like in tune. The headline act were not so lucky. Guitar tuning problems and technical issues prevented them from playing their best.

Once again we played for free; highlight of the evening was one of the other acts plugging our end of year performance next week then mentioning that he himself was playing the same night at another venue. He knows where he'll be...!

For those who don't know me, and at risk of sounding like I'm attending an AA meeting (how they manage to fix your car and fit in all that drinking I don't know!), my name is Mike. I'm 29, I hold down a responsible job, and I live in the North of England with my wife, a rabbit and a cat. I also play in a band.

I've been in bands for as long as I can remember, always part time, almost always playing our own, original material, and always seeking that elusive record deal so I can go and live in St. Tropez and drink myself to an early grave.

I started off, as everyone does, with visions of being a lead guitarist. I dutifully locked myself in my room and learned to play Wish You Were Here and Streets of London; bought a capo so I could play Wonderwall and quickly learned I was not cut out to be a singer.

Myself and some schoolmates founded a band - I still play with two of them to this say - and we called ourselves still life, after a Suede song. Not so much because we loved Suede - I was the only one who had even heard of them - but I was the one with the biggest mouth.

I loved Suede, to the extent I bought a guitar like Bernard Butler's, adopted a foppish lopsided haircut, and became ambivalent about my sexuality.

Like most bands at the time we cut our teeth on Oasis, Ocean Colour Scene and the Beatles (at least the ones we could play) and we were, to all intents and purposes quite appalling. But we had caught the bug and I soon started writing dreadful bedroom ballads and trying to persuade the band to play them. Needless to say, it took some work.

Fast forward to today and, give or take a few peaks, I'm still in pretty much the same place, but with a lot of lessons learned the hard way.

What I hope to do with this "blog" is pass on some of those lessons for those just starting out in this world; to share anecdotes with those who have been in my position; and to give those of you who think that just because your mate's band recorded a song that sounds like it should be in the charts, it's not all cocaine and hookers in the world of unsigned original local bands.