I’m cheating. I’ve run out of words. Nothing to say. Blame St Patrick and two concerts back-to-back: one in a pub – the George in St Briavels, the other at Drybridge Community Centre in Monmouth. Sucked me bone dry.
I’m the mandolin player, the little old Irish man in the flat cap at the back. A friend says I always look so bloody miserable when playing, but I’m not. It’s my ‘in-the-zone’ look, trying not to actually think and so avoiding the curse of the millipede wondering in which order to move his legs.
Distractions are the very devil:- what are we having for Sunday dinner? Suddenly your fingers realise you’ve loosened the reins and off they gallop in every direction and none. At best the ‘B’ part will end up as that of an entirely different tune, at worst it’s a case of playing ‘all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order.’
I have over 200 tunes in my head and some of them are little rogues popping up where they shouldn’t. Keeping 'in the zone' is vital—being at peace with the moment and allowing nothing else in.
I formed the band with Tony the guitarist without really knowing it—‘The Celtic Collectors.’ That was three years ago and it’s since become quite an efficient fund-raiser having raised over £16000 in charity. Our secret is to shut the doors and they pay us to stop. Little do they know, I play with two invisible friends,
These two concerts were very different beasts. I loved the green lighting of the stage, which gives us a neat diseased zombie vibe. Unfortunately, the sound mix is a little unbalanced. The pub was looser, more immediate, more enjoyable.
Back to my usual burbling next week.
Rose Tree / Soldier's Joy / Staten Island
Madame Bonaparte / Cold and Frosty Morn
2 comments:
You guys are very good!
Lift your head up once in a while so we can see your face.
I can’t raise my face Maria. My zone is somewhere just above my knees. Besides, I’m an ugly bugger
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