UK BLOG IV
Hello Hello Hello!
PF Here, sitting in the Aberystwyth (that’s “AH-BURR-WIST-WITH”) Arts Centre, on the lovely coast of Wales, watching our very own Heironymous Volcano (Ben Belcher, to the uninitiated) do one of his ever-expanding drawing of hotdog-related themes. He’s quite good, you know, you can see his efforts right here – http://www.myspace.com/bensdrawings.
Oops, time has passed, just like that! It’s now the morning after the gig, and I’m sitting in a bay window, overlooking the Irish Sea. The coast of Wales is an expanse of rocky cliffs, small pebbled beaches, and curvy roads. I’d say the brisk air doesn’t necessarily make me rush to my swim trunks, but that isn’t to say that the water isn’t inviting, know what I mean? It’s just likely there’s a silkie or a siren or some such thing, waiting to lure me to my watery grave in a state of pure, hypothermic bliss. Hold on just a minute, I’m hearing their call right now . . . . . (SPLASH! glug glug glug).
OK, I’m back, and perhaps it’s time to recap . . .
Friday morning after Banham, we headed to the opposite side of England – Devon. Rolling hills, huge hedgerows separating fields of happy and healthy looking cows. Very picturesque indeed. Riding in the back of the van along these curvy roads can be a little bit nausea inducing, especially with Gerald “Wheel-Jerk” Roche at the helm, but we manage to avoid any disasters.
We roll into South Molton, simultaneous to the rapid decline of steering and power in the van – later determined to be due to a busted power steering pump and drive belt. While Gerald dealt with the van, we checked into the George Hotel, where our performance was that night. We played for the Wildwood Flower Folk Club – and were warned in advance that this crowd would be more interested in our bluegrass and old-time chops, rather than the “avant-grass” (not my term, it comes from the Glasgow Herald) for which we are more known. Anyway, it was a sold out room, and we had the pure joy of getting to play a full acoustic set – no mics, no speakers – for a crown of 100+ folks, all listening raptly. The fears of stony faced traditionalists was quite overstated. While we did play a good amount of hot picking bluegrass, old time and the like; the crowd gladly followed us along every musical road we chose to trod. In the end, it was a great night, and we definitely opened some eyes as to the OTHER types of music besides bluegrass music that involve banjos, fiddles, mandolins, and all the rest.
Saturday, September 5
The next day was spent, in large part, waiting for the van (cue the Velvet Underground – “I’m . . . . waiting for my van . . .”). It was finally ready in the mid afternoon. Gerald and I went to get the van which turned out to be about 45 minutes away along some seriously country roads. It’s hard to overstate just how “countrified” it is in the English countryside. One moment you’re in a town, the next you are so far from civilization. It’s really quite refreshing. Our way back to pick up the guys entailed an extremely narrow road, framed by 10 foot hedgerows. Felt like some kind of lo-fi roller coaster ride. We got back to town, grabbed the guys and the gear, and headed for London.
I won’t go into great detail here, except to say that we were right on time (read as: late). We had just enough time to unload the gear, drink a quick beer, and hop onstage. A shame, as this is the “What’s Cooking” gig that we have played twice before, and Stephen and Ali – the two wonderful folk who run the show – are a great time, and it would have been nice to get to spend more time. Alas, alack. This show went off well, to a small but appreciative crowd. We had an opening act called The Henry Brothers – two Brits who specialize in murder and death ballads, singing in the style of so many brother duets. I love hearing the heavily UK-accented people start to sing like they are from Tennessee (well, do I do any differently? No). It’s very pleasing.
Sunday, September 6:
After a leisurely morning, we jumped back in the van, and headed to Brighton. Brighton, to those who don’t know, is a British seaside resort, and has been for a long long time. It’s great to walk along the lanes and pier and contemplate the leisure time that has been spent here over the last, oh, I don’t know, 200-300 years. Certainly, the Victorian Age was a boomtime for Brighton. There’s this amazing Pavilion that was built almost, from my understanding, purely for the enjoyment for Prince Albert (I don’t know if it was named for him either).
Anyway, Brighton is also the gay mecca of the UK and also a very bohemian place indeed, and it was evident both in our venue – a non-profit, community-run space – and our crowd – mostly tattooed, pierced, and super hip. We had an opening act – the Crucks (another group of Tennessean Brits) – who specialized in countrified versions of modern songs, like “The Final Countdown,” for example. Excellence! This show turned out to be a near mirror image of our Banham gig – dancers dancers dancers! After the show, we were invited to, of all places, a pub that specialized in Bourbon. Now, we’re not a group of guys to say no to a free Old Fashioned, Mint Julep, or just straight ahead bourbon in a glass, especially when it’s some fancy-brand liquor. We had a great time talking and BS’ing with our new British friends (and hosts), Iain, Michael, and Caley.
Monday, September 7:
A day off spent lazing around Brighton. Now, this is our PERSONAL time, you vultures. Can’t you give us a moment’s peace? This is as bad as Dodi and Diana! What? Too soon?
Tuesday, September 8:
Back in the van early as we crossed back across Southern England, barreling towards Wales. A new country conquered! Our first gig was in the town of Cardigan, at a spot called the Mwldan (pronounced, “MOOL-DAN”) Arts Centre. Now, let me just digress from my regularly scheduled ramble to just comment briefly on the Welsh language. First, it sounds very little like it looks, and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or anything like that, as we are having a wonderful and well-received time here. But let’s just talk about how it looks: like, as Gerry says, “like a shaken up Scrabble Board.” Extra F’s, D’s, Y’s, and W’s aplenty. Huge strings of consonants . . . it’s totally perplexing. You’ll note in the pictures section that I am obsessed, and I have been taking pictures of the most banal and mundane street signs and the like. What a rube.
OK, anyway. The Mwldan Theatre is a newish place, and the sound and interior are beautiful, clean, and modern. Having never before been to Wales, we could only assume it would be a small crowd of unsuspecting victims. Oh how wrong we were! The theatre, maybe 250 seats all told, was nearly full. And not just full, full of people just chomping at the bit for some hollerin’ and hootin’! Before even beginning our first song, the rapport for the night was set as a woman in the crowd shouted to me, “what is that thing you’re holding?” It was a mandolin, don’t be dirty. We had a great show, and the crowd was mightily impressed with us, thank you very much!
Wednesday, September 9 (9/9/9) –
We had a great drive up the Welsh coast, loving the views and dreading the curves. A short drive, though. We got into Aberystwyth early, arriving at the University of Aberystwyth Arts Centre. Given that we had so much time, four of us took a short walk towards the seaside. This “short walk” turned into a pretty serious hike up an “unstable cliff” (personally, I think it’s just passionate, but hey). You can see some of the pics here – http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Hot-Seats/20885708328. We saw the old castle (in ruins since 1343!), and generally enjoyed the sunshine as much as we could.
The hall we played in last night was a boomy one, and we were debating our setlist, based upon whether we’d be playing to sitters or dancers. I, personally, was sure that it would be a sitting crowd, whereas Admiral Admirable felt the opposite. Anyway, I was sooo wrong! OK, admittedly, the first set was a little low energy (on the crowd’s part that is, we sweated and vibrated as much as ever). However, during set break, it became apparent that the mostly middle-aged crowd was bolstered by a group of 18 year-oldish art students from Oxfordshire who were on a team-building trip. They had decided to get a bit silly during the set break, and they came back, ready to get down.
The frenzy built during the second set with lots of shimmying and shaking to our oldtime and ragtime raucousness, and culminated with our final song – Der Axelbulgar. It was a pure rock and roll moment, as ~25 of these kids jumped up on stage and shook booties behind us as we tried to maintain our well-practiced composure (cough cough). This was a beautiful moment, and I’m hoping that someone out there has some pictured of this. If so, please send to thehotseats@gmail.com!
After the show, these kids were a frenzy of “can I have an autograph/picture?” It was an extreme enough moment of rockstar feelings that I even got to sign a couple of . . . umm . . . chests. (Anyone with a picture, see above). Very flattering, to say the least.
OK, so, there we are. A day off today, and then one more Wales gig – Pontypridd (“PONTY – PREETH”), before we make the long trek north, back to Scotland.
Hope you’re all well!
PF HOTSEAT et al.
Why is this fascinating to me? What a rube!
