I PLAYED a couple of top gigs last week, the first of which was in Doncaster.
The drive from London thankfully passed without incident – after a few games of “I spy” and a jolly sing-along, we arrived at the venue for the show, Cusworth Hall.
I felt like I had arrived at something resembling a cross between a Night at the Proms and T in the Park, with picnic hampers bursting with foie gras and champagne being carried by revellers itching for a spot of crowd surfing.
We sauntered into the splendid foyer of this grand, ornate building for a soundcheck, the walls adorned with giant portraits of the lords and ladies of yesteryear and mirrors to rival those at Versailles.
With the stage set up and all guns blazing, I leaped on stage ready to burst some eardrums.
I picked up my new axe (which I’ve now named Toots, in honour of my kitty who was ruthlessly shot dead earlier this year), swung her into the air ready to morph into the female version of Slash ... only to find the darned thing had guitar flu!
The only remedy for this instrumental infection is known as a “set up”.
When you purchase a new guitar, sometimes it doesn’t instantly find its mojo – so you have to take it to a guitar hero who knows how to fiddle with the various bit and bobs involved to have it operating again at peak efficiency.
Unfortunately, said hero ain’t a fixture in my entourage yet.
I was most perturbed by my guitar’s poorly-timed malady. But, after my tantrum, tour manager Emily got straight on the dog and bone to a guitar shop in Edinburgh who assured me they would fix the thing when we arrived the next day.
Nevertheless, the Cusworth gig was great. A beautiful setting with favourable weather framed the crowd spread out on the grassy banks in front of the stage – it was magical.
Next stop ... Edinburgh.
A peach of a drive later, we were in the nation’s capital heading to consult the guitar master. Sunday night played host to the closing of the Fringe Festival and before taking to the stage we were lucky enough to catch the awesome fireworks display at Edinburgh Castle. I love fireworks!
Our gig was far removed from the hippy, star-lit, posh country festival we’d played at Cusworth. Tonight was all about Freshers’ week! Carnage!
The HMV Picturehouse was absolutely rammed with 1,000 hormonal adolescents, propelling themselves across the floor in droves, all part of some synchronised mosh. They were all wearing shades indoors – a la Calvin Harris – and twisting contortionist-style.
The crowd was superb and the gig was terrific!
Touring is fun but the one thing that most certainly suffers on the road is your health.
Guitars ain’t the only thing infirm around here now.
Unless you have a personal chef, physician and masseur along for the ride, you’re pretty much destined to either become painfully thin and pale, or fat and blotchy.
Lately, the pendulum has been swinging towards the thin and pale look for moi.
It’s time for my own “set up” to get me back to tip-top, fit-as-a-fiddle form. See you down the gym!