Tuesday 15th of August, 2000
whether it was in itself good is another matter entirely
Rising late (la, the onerous life of the musician), and breakfast. I don't often do breakfast per se, so it is a notable event. Really. It was toast and jam, for the curious.
I go upstairs to try to do some practicing, for the gig tonight, although I am really just trying to reassure myself that I still remember how to play the guitar. I manage to come up with a new (to me) chord progression, sort of slow jazzy thing. Like I don't have enough of those already.
The chap from the Edinburgh Festival Revue (a.k.a. The Ross Bandstand - confused me for a while, since that's what native Edinburghians know it as) calls and asks if I can do a fill-in spot at 6:45. When I'm supposed to be at the Tron soundchecking. Not that there's a lot of soundchecking to do on one guitar and one mic, but all the same, I think I'll need the psychological space.
To the Tron by, well, 6:45. I stop off at the Pound Saver store to get a £2.99 alarm clock with a large face (very useful for a one hour set, where one can easily get lost. Soundcheck (and take a bit of time to do it, and why not) noodle, chat. Holly Tomas has come to see me, which is very nice, because she has complex logistics to deal with if she wants to go to a gig. Even her own.
At about 7:20, people start to arrive - real people that I've never seen before. Live punters. Scary. So I have an actual audience - it's far from packed but all the same, more than I had feared. I start pretty much at 7:30 (most people leave it for a few minutes to get the audience in, but we are on a tight schedule and I've been disciplined from the Jeays experience to go up on time). The first song is The Things You get. I remember that. Rob Adams from the Herald is waiting outside the door for the greater part of that song, since he obviously and sensibly thought that these Tron gigs never go up on time. Little Games next, I think, but then it goes into a blur. I remember playing most of The Secret Agent's Dream album, a couple of songs from Plucked plus 100 Horses and Obvious. The latter was particularly fun to play, I remember. I introduce it by saying that it wa quite a long one, so if anyone wanted to go to the toilet... but actually, I was the one bursting for the loo, having consumed three litres of water in the past two hours. After finishing up with Comforting Lie I rush to the loo, hoping that Peter will fill in with his spiel. Have horrible feeling I was out of the room too long. Do Iodine as my encore.
There were a number of glitches and mistakes, but other performers are too polite to mention such things. Reviewers, however, are not. Not only Rob Adams, but also another reviewer from an internet site are in. I will no doubt find out my shortcomings in due course. I am left pretty shaken up by the whole thing, probably got more emotional charge out of it than any of the audience - as I say to Chris Conway later, it reminds me of the dealer's adage, "never get high on your own supply".
Back to the flat, where I discover that it's relatively easy to tune the tv into the channels that we thought we couldn't get. Go to shop to but Pataks Korma stuff, with very strong sense of deja vu (one song I didn't do, incidentally). Indeed, when I return upstairs, I find that I did the same thing yesterday. Now have two jars of Pataks Korma stuff. Make chicken korma. Get call from PMR, that I have left my lead behind at the Tron.
On the spur of the moment, I decide to go to see Lulu at the Assembly Rooms. I chat to the people in front of me (serial show-goers) and discover that I have no Jeays fliers in my pocket (damn! I must do something about that) or I might have been able to convince them to come. The show's good, certainly, but curiously underwhelming. There is a relentlessness about the songs and very little contrast (except genre contrast) or wit. The best moment in a way is when one of the singers launches into a what appears to be a country song, but that slowly morphs into Generic Musical Tune. Not a waste of money though - a designer balding gentleman in front of me shakes his head sadly during the curtain-calls, but I certainly wouldn't go that far.
I stop off to collect the lead, and am asked whether I want to do a song. This entails hanging around for a while. I do manage to get a flier from Merri-May Gill, which in itself clears up another mystery - her show is at 1:00am at Club Pleasance. Which is in Bristo Square, not at the Pleasance per se. This must be why Phil and I couldn't get in the other day. We were at completely the wrong venue. Ironically, Bristo Square is even closer to the flat than the Pleasance proper.
As for the open-mic, let's just say that I am now convinced that alcohol and guitar playing don't mix and am glad and smug that I no longer mix them.
I do a thrashy version of Circle/Line which I haven't done for years. It felt good to do it, but whether it was in itself good is another matter entirely.