Gitty post

I found myself in an empty pub last night, serenading a bunch of open-mic-ers. I dragged Circle Thomas along with me, so he could sit sneeringly in the corner and feel all important. Essentially he could have offered anyone there a gig at the Cumberland or the Morden Tower. As it happens, he didn't. Once I’d played, he was begging me to just get out as quickly as possible.

It was a ‘buskers’ night. I think the difference between open-mic night and buskers night is negligible, but there was an all round sense of geekiness pervading the place. On arrival I was quizzed about my choice of guitar string and given detailed analysis and feedback from a keen-o. Upon deciding to play songs in a slightly unusual guitar tuning, I was then asked questions by my colleagues of the stage – things like ‘why are you using that tuning?’ (I thought music was sacred, need there be more questions?) and ‘did you invent that?’ (my reply was ‘no I think God did’ – I’m a sarky fuck, though she seemed suitably amused).

I played three songs in my special blinding key of D9, and two in the less blinding concert tuning.

See, you can't mention tunings without sounding like a geek.

I was generally fairly happy with my performance. Given that there was no audience present (who on earth would choose to spend their time in such an environment?) I was feeling pretty relaxed.

I sat down and was immediately given feedback by keen boys. One guy, fumbling for compliments but doing the conversational equivalent of showing me a fish, said that I had ‘the music of Dylan with the voice of the Kooks.’ I asked him if the Kooks weren’t some shitty band who surely no respectable person over a certain age would choose to listen to. He stuttered his way through something about them having a singer who was good - too good for a band that weren’t up to his high vocal standards and that I sounded a bit like that guy. Kind of. He realised what a mistake it was trying to pigeon hole me so pitifully as I batted his veiled insults away like flies around a pasty.

His girlfriend said I sounded like the Cockney Rebel. No comment.

We were treated to some wonderfully earnest performances of classics by Huey Lewis and The News, Foo Fighters…oh I dunno, my beer was more entertaining by this juncture.

So I guess open mic busker thingys aren’t quite my scene.

Anyway, tonight I have a date with that guy I hugged - Richard Dawson. He booked a support slot in an old poetry venue (The Morden Tower) and he’s gonna sing for me (and a few other people I suppose). But, I suspect, mostly for me. Well, I’ve never seen him play live before so it should be a treat.

That’s quite enough of that.