Back home after a couple of days visiting my lovely Mum. Middle Sis popped down too so today all three of us and Mum went out for lunch together. I can't remember the last time it was just us without hordes of small children stampeding through the place as well.
It was lovely, and just what I needed after a particularly shit time just lately.
The drive home through Wrath of God thunder and torrential rain was interesting.
Anyhoo.
Music news: A lovely Internet mate recommended I listen to Chris and Thomas . I did, and have fallen hopelessly in love with their music.
I urge you to do the same.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Woke up this mornin'
There has been an interesting new development in the WithaY household.
Am I having a baby?
Why no.
Are we getting another dog?
Not just yet.
Have we won bazillions on the Euro Lottery and can give up paid employment forever?
No*.
Take a guess.
Go on.
I'll help you with a clue....it involves a trip to the music shop in Salisbury yesterday, where Mr WithaY once again proved that there is no such thing as a bad impulse purchase.
Our home now contains, as well as three guitars, a bodhran** and a selection of tin whistles, a brand spanking new blues harmonica.
Many years ago, someone in my family (I can't remember who is responsible for the outrage) gave Mr WithaY a harmonica and a "Harmonica for dummies" book for Christmas. He tried gamely for a fair while, but only ever really managed to sound like an asthmatic who'd swallowed a whistle, and gave up after about three years.
How I wept.
Yesterday we went to Salisbury for a whole list of reasons:
1) Went to the hairdresser. I had a haircut booked at Toni and Guy. Yes thanks, it looks very nice. The girl who did it was flatteringly impressed that it isn't dyed: "It's such a lovely colour! Oh, you lucky thing!" etcetera. I looked at her blonde, blue-eyed loveliness in the mirror and thought "Yeah right...like you'd ever swap." But I kept such uncharitable notions in my head.
2) Went to see Night at the Museum 2 at the pictures. Was amusing enough, but a bit of a firework display, far too much going on for any of the characters to get a chance to engage the audience. But, Hank Azaria is always watchable. Christopher Guest was completely wasted, and not in a fun way though. 6 out of 10.
3) Went to the music shop and bought some books of chords/piano/lyrics. Amy Winehouse, System Of A Down and The Pretenders, to be exact. Should be fun. I am going to force my piano-learning mate*** to play along with me.
While we were in the music shop, and I was busy buying Fender picks and music books, Mr WithaY got chatting to one of the staff. Next thing I knew, he was buying a blues harmonica, or "harp" as the pros in the shop called it, and a "how to play blues harmonica" book.
He's been practicing a lot. Already. I'll let you know how he gets on. He declared that as he now has missing fingers**** he needs a good "blues" name. Stumpy. Fingers. Lawnman. Chopper.
We spent quite a lot of the drive home trying to come up with something appropriate.
Suggestions welcome.
*Arse.
**google it
***hello Sarah!
****A bit of artistic license, but they haven't grown back yet.
Am I having a baby?
Why no.
Are we getting another dog?
Not just yet.
Have we won bazillions on the Euro Lottery and can give up paid employment forever?
No*.
Take a guess.
Go on.
I'll help you with a clue....it involves a trip to the music shop in Salisbury yesterday, where Mr WithaY once again proved that there is no such thing as a bad impulse purchase.
Our home now contains, as well as three guitars, a bodhran** and a selection of tin whistles, a brand spanking new blues harmonica.
Many years ago, someone in my family (I can't remember who is responsible for the outrage) gave Mr WithaY a harmonica and a "Harmonica for dummies" book for Christmas. He tried gamely for a fair while, but only ever really managed to sound like an asthmatic who'd swallowed a whistle, and gave up after about three years.
How I wept.
Yesterday we went to Salisbury for a whole list of reasons:
1) Went to the hairdresser. I had a haircut booked at Toni and Guy. Yes thanks, it looks very nice. The girl who did it was flatteringly impressed that it isn't dyed: "It's such a lovely colour! Oh, you lucky thing!" etcetera. I looked at her blonde, blue-eyed loveliness in the mirror and thought "Yeah right...like you'd ever swap." But I kept such uncharitable notions in my head.
2) Went to see Night at the Museum 2 at the pictures. Was amusing enough, but a bit of a firework display, far too much going on for any of the characters to get a chance to engage the audience. But, Hank Azaria is always watchable. Christopher Guest was completely wasted, and not in a fun way though. 6 out of 10.
3) Went to the music shop and bought some books of chords/piano/lyrics. Amy Winehouse, System Of A Down and The Pretenders, to be exact. Should be fun. I am going to force my piano-learning mate*** to play along with me.
While we were in the music shop, and I was busy buying Fender picks and music books, Mr WithaY got chatting to one of the staff. Next thing I knew, he was buying a blues harmonica, or "harp" as the pros in the shop called it, and a "how to play blues harmonica" book.
He's been practicing a lot. Already. I'll let you know how he gets on. He declared that as he now has missing fingers**** he needs a good "blues" name. Stumpy. Fingers. Lawnman. Chopper.
We spent quite a lot of the drive home trying to come up with something appropriate.
Suggestions welcome.
*Arse.
**google it
***hello Sarah!
****A bit of artistic license, but they haven't grown back yet.
Friday, 28 September 2007
Well...
We went to see the Alabama 3 last night.
Oh. My. Word. They were excellent. They're not from Alabama and there's more than 3 of them.
My previous exposure to them was limited to their theme song from The Sopranos, and after last night I will definitely be getting some more of their stuff. If you have the opportunity, go and see them live. Bloody great.
Other news: Still got a cough. Buggeration.
Oh. My. Word. They were excellent. They're not from Alabama and there's more than 3 of them.
My previous exposure to them was limited to their theme song from The Sopranos, and after last night I will definitely be getting some more of their stuff. If you have the opportunity, go and see them live. Bloody great.
Other news: Still got a cough. Buggeration.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Bands, bikes, tents
Reading Badgerdaddy's post about his old band getting back together has made me think hard about doing something similar. Again.
Trouble is, I know a few decent musicians but thay all live bloody miles away. Colin, move to Wiltshire, you selfish git. Heh.
Mr WithaY has a harmonica, but is a bit limited in his repertoire. He can play the bohdran too but that gets a little wearing after a while, frankly. It also lacks the pinpoint accuracy of AC/DC's rhythm section, which is the sound I aspire to.
I love live music. One of the very few downsides to living here is that there are limited opportunities to see bands. There's the Cheese and Grain in Frome, I suppose.
The best band venue location I've lived in (in retrospect) was Chichester.
We went to see loads of small local bands in various pubs and clubs in the area. There was also Chichester Rock Society, a bi-weekly rock disco with a live band every month. Loads of mates would get down there, the girls tending to dance all night and the blokes congregating in the bar to talk about their bikes.
The blokes would usually join us on the dancefloor later, either because their respective girlfriends had made them feel guilty for not dancing, or because they could see the end of the evening looming and were planning a desperate last-minute chat-up. Heh. I used to like that, always so entertaining.
We could also go to the Wedgewood Rooms and the Guildhall in Portsmouth, the Southampton Guildhall (now Mayflower), and the Brighton Centre for the really big bands. I look back now and think "Why did I not take more advantage of this?"
And then I remember. I had no money and couldn't drive. And the boyfriends I had at the time were either not keen on the same bands as me, or had no money either. Sigh.
Having said that, I got to see Rush, Whitesnake, Iron Maiden, Kiss, Bon Jovi (supporting Kiss, bloody brilliant), Jethro Tull, Magnum, as well as all the smaller bands like Spider, Dumpy's Rusty Nuts (still touring I believe), the Hampsters (likewise), and all the 3-gigs-before-splitting-up local bands.
Ah, happy days. Nothing is quite as much fun as turning up to a heavy rock gig on the back of a huge sexy bike, with a gang of mates also on huge sexy bikes, posing wildly before going in to dance like maniacs for two hours.
Well, nothing that I can think of offhand, anyway.
And of course there was The Years in Brighton. I loved that place. A heavy rock nightclub, now a bloody wine bar. Gah.
I can't remember the last time I went to see a big band. We've done a fair few festivals though, which seems to be a more West Country thing. Not huge ones like Glastonbury. Smaller ones like the Trowbridge Village Pump and the Larmer Tree Gardens. Not this summer, however. Too bloody wet.
We went to one in Donnington (not the big one, a smaller folky one) a few years back. About 8 of us went, taking two big canvas tents to sleep in. We got there and discovered we had no groundsheets. Bugger. We compromised by putting one tent up (using a rock as a mallet because we'd left that behind as well) and using the other tent as the groundsheet.
The spirit of invention was strong in us that weekend.
Obviously there wasn't enough room for us all in the one tent, so a couple of the guys elected to sleep in their van. Hurrah! Off we went to party, first setting up three large double airbeds in the tent so we could all crash out when we got back. Much partying and Jack Daniels later, bedtime came around.
So, me and Mr WithaY took one airbed, at the back of the tent. Two large male friends were sharing* the next double airbed, and another, smaller pair of male mates were on the double airbed nearest the door. Perfect.
Everyone settled down for a peaceful night's sleep.
Well, as peaceful as it could be with six people all crashed out after having been drinking heavily, laughing immoderately and dancing till everyone else had fallen by the wayside. It sounded like a Serengeti watering hole, all the grunts, snorts and other noises** that went on continuously.
Come the dawn, I woke up and looked down the tent to see if there was any way I could get out to go to the loo without waking everyone else up.
Mr WithaY was snuggled right next to me, I was wrapped around the tentpole (oo-er), and one of the large male friends had migrated across onto our airbed. Mr WithaY still has flashbacks about waking up with him snuffling in his ear in his sleep.
Other large male mate was spreadeagled across the entire middle airbed like a huge snoring starfish. The third airbed only had one occupant too....where was our smaller mate?
I picked my way carefully*** down to the door, and there he was - outside in the rain, fast asleep, wrapped in his sleeping bag like a little beardie angel.
He complained about that for YEARS afterwards. "Remember that night I got shoved out under the tent flap into the rain." Yes, we remember. Heh.
Ahhh happy days.
*as in sharing the space ONLY, they were very insistent on this point
**farting. Ugh
***treading on everyone as I went. I was careful in that I didn't stamp on them
Trouble is, I know a few decent musicians but thay all live bloody miles away. Colin, move to Wiltshire, you selfish git. Heh.
Mr WithaY has a harmonica, but is a bit limited in his repertoire. He can play the bohdran too but that gets a little wearing after a while, frankly. It also lacks the pinpoint accuracy of AC/DC's rhythm section, which is the sound I aspire to.
I love live music. One of the very few downsides to living here is that there are limited opportunities to see bands. There's the Cheese and Grain in Frome, I suppose.
The best band venue location I've lived in (in retrospect) was Chichester.
We went to see loads of small local bands in various pubs and clubs in the area. There was also Chichester Rock Society, a bi-weekly rock disco with a live band every month. Loads of mates would get down there, the girls tending to dance all night and the blokes congregating in the bar to talk about their bikes.
The blokes would usually join us on the dancefloor later, either because their respective girlfriends had made them feel guilty for not dancing, or because they could see the end of the evening looming and were planning a desperate last-minute chat-up. Heh. I used to like that, always so entertaining.
We could also go to the Wedgewood Rooms and the Guildhall in Portsmouth, the Southampton Guildhall (now Mayflower), and the Brighton Centre for the really big bands. I look back now and think "Why did I not take more advantage of this?"
And then I remember. I had no money and couldn't drive. And the boyfriends I had at the time were either not keen on the same bands as me, or had no money either. Sigh.
Having said that, I got to see Rush, Whitesnake, Iron Maiden, Kiss, Bon Jovi (supporting Kiss, bloody brilliant), Jethro Tull, Magnum, as well as all the smaller bands like Spider, Dumpy's Rusty Nuts (still touring I believe), the Hampsters (likewise), and all the 3-gigs-before-splitting-up local bands.
Ah, happy days. Nothing is quite as much fun as turning up to a heavy rock gig on the back of a huge sexy bike, with a gang of mates also on huge sexy bikes, posing wildly before going in to dance like maniacs for two hours.
Well, nothing that I can think of offhand, anyway.
And of course there was The Years in Brighton. I loved that place. A heavy rock nightclub, now a bloody wine bar. Gah.
I can't remember the last time I went to see a big band. We've done a fair few festivals though, which seems to be a more West Country thing. Not huge ones like Glastonbury. Smaller ones like the Trowbridge Village Pump and the Larmer Tree Gardens. Not this summer, however. Too bloody wet.
We went to one in Donnington (not the big one, a smaller folky one) a few years back. About 8 of us went, taking two big canvas tents to sleep in. We got there and discovered we had no groundsheets. Bugger. We compromised by putting one tent up (using a rock as a mallet because we'd left that behind as well) and using the other tent as the groundsheet.
The spirit of invention was strong in us that weekend.
Obviously there wasn't enough room for us all in the one tent, so a couple of the guys elected to sleep in their van. Hurrah! Off we went to party, first setting up three large double airbeds in the tent so we could all crash out when we got back. Much partying and Jack Daniels later, bedtime came around.
So, me and Mr WithaY took one airbed, at the back of the tent. Two large male friends were sharing* the next double airbed, and another, smaller pair of male mates were on the double airbed nearest the door. Perfect.
Everyone settled down for a peaceful night's sleep.
Well, as peaceful as it could be with six people all crashed out after having been drinking heavily, laughing immoderately and dancing till everyone else had fallen by the wayside. It sounded like a Serengeti watering hole, all the grunts, snorts and other noises** that went on continuously.
Come the dawn, I woke up and looked down the tent to see if there was any way I could get out to go to the loo without waking everyone else up.
Mr WithaY was snuggled right next to me, I was wrapped around the tentpole (oo-er), and one of the large male friends had migrated across onto our airbed. Mr WithaY still has flashbacks about waking up with him snuffling in his ear in his sleep.
Other large male mate was spreadeagled across the entire middle airbed like a huge snoring starfish. The third airbed only had one occupant too....where was our smaller mate?
I picked my way carefully*** down to the door, and there he was - outside in the rain, fast asleep, wrapped in his sleeping bag like a little beardie angel.
He complained about that for YEARS afterwards. "Remember that night I got shoved out under the tent flap into the rain." Yes, we remember. Heh.
Ahhh happy days.
*as in sharing the space ONLY, they were very insistent on this point
**farting. Ugh
***treading on everyone as I went. I was careful in that I didn't stamp on them
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