Giggin’ away…..

A few months in and Soul Band gigs have started to be a little less scary. We’ve played for the old folk of Penryn on Poppy Day, the drunks of Falmouth on a very snowy December evening when anyone in heels would have snapped their ankle, and rocked out someone’s birthday do which had been invaded by all our mates. The other sax player has quit, leaving Maggie the wonderful trombonist and I to figure it all out for ourselves – and do all the solos we used to be able to hide from….

On that note, actually gigs ARE scary now as I’ve decided NOT to write down my solos but to improvise them on the spot… leading to a massive adrenalin rush as we approach the time to fire up the creative part of the brain and switch off the written music autopilot….(to call it sheet music would be flattery, it’s a load of letters scrawled on a piece of paper!)….. sometimes the creativity pays off and a sassy solo emerges, sometimes an odd note or two throws my confidence, and sometimes, as this weekend, I put too soft a reed on the sax and it gels itself to the top of the mouthpiece and nothing at all comes out…. It’s all a learning curve, and I’m loving it.

Improv is proving very hard to learn and even harder to “just do”.  I have read far too much on the subject and “felt” far too little. It’s started turning into some kind of horrible maths equation that is doing my head in, and I need to leave the books behind and just play until it sounds right.  For that, you don’t want to be living in a semi-detached bungalow with paper thin walls though.   The only times it works are when I’ve had a glass of wine, am home alone and just play along to a CD making it up as I blow…. I badly need to rock up at rehearsal a little tipsy… but need a chauffeur for that!  Or to just chillax a little….

Here’s a quick video of our latest gig – please forgive the dodgy bits, it was near the end of the gig and tiredness/madness was setting in….

Outside of Soul Band, I am mostly listening to Blues. Got a complete set of Robert Johnson for Christmas and as he inspires most of our Backroom Blues activity, it’s only right. At first I thought it stuck out like a sore thumb in my collection but am starting to recognise these ancient refrains in more recent chapters of my musical life. Also realised I had a massive Peter Green era Fleetwood Mac collection on my shelves that I’d never really dived into and am now lapping up (was madly in love with someone who covered some of their songs when I was 21…… but that’s another story).

New stuff rocking my world at the moment still includes Alabama 3, very excited about their new acoustic album out later this week – and seeing them live in Cardiff on 19 March; and I feel an urge to buy an Adele album. Not entirely sure why.  Very very pleased to see Mumfords win a Brit but desperately in need of a new album as have burned Mumford-shaped patterns in my eardrums over-playing “Sigh No More” and just can’t stand it any longer…. Oh and I want to be in Sugarland if they ever need a sax player, because they seem like nice people – not so mad on the music.

Meanwhile Marc the ever-patient sax teacher is popping round once a fortnight to try and teach me stuff I neither have nor make time to practice. Except for tonight when I did spend ages playing around with bending my lips and jaw around to get all the harmonics out of the low long notes. My poor face muscles. My poor knackered reed. My poor neighbours………

snowed in with my sax

Uh oh it’s been a while… all good intentions but the blog fell by the wayside for a while. Sorry folks. Sure you were sorely disappointed… Time for an update….

Few months on and I am still having (sporadic) lessons with the immensely patient Marc Hadley, still playing with Backroom Blues and have fallen out, and back in again with Falmouth Soul Sensations and played my first ever gig! I have also bought a more comfortable sling (I knew there was another use for neoprene!), gone half a grade softer on my reed (2), been through a squawking period and am now sounding a little, just a little, more presentable…
First things first, lessons… Marc has the unenviable task of teaching someone who can’t even play Fur Elise on the piano without having sheet music in front of them to improvise…. I am now at the stage where I can play reasonably well with a blank sheet of paper in front of me (but still need something to stare at) – or with my Blues scales written out in front of me but my eyes shut. Bizarre. But then again when I freedive I have to put my hand up to my nose to equalise, even if I’ve got a noseclip on…. same difference.  Can now womble around happily on the Blues scales while the Backroom Boys trawl through Robert Johnson classics. All fine for about 3 songs and then they start sounding the same – so Marc has got me braving the joys of diminished scales too, and adding major and minor Blues to the repertoire. It still feels like I’m approaching it in a far too scientific way, but that appeals to my geekier side. The more creative one comes out when I get brave and just try notes because they feel good, after a glass of wine usually and in the comfort of my own home, playing along with poor old Robert or Fleetwood Mac (who luckily can’t hear me massacring their oh so beautiful tunes).  One day Ms Creative (tipsy?) will come to a Blues session and they’ll be amazed (or run for the hills….)

Fitting in practice between lessons is still a problem. Finding time to blow long notes (when it’s a sociable hour, I now have a nice neighbour I don’t want to piss off), I’m not at work, not sorting out freedive stuff, in the gym or round at my mum’s eating cake is quite hard. Luckily I now have at least a 2 hour a week practice scheduled in the form of one band or another on Wednesday night, and usually an hour or so on a Tuesday when I realise I haven’t worked on anything since the last session, so things are getting better by default.  Winter now though so less freediving, less outside stuff and more music time, theoretically….

Backroom Blues has moved to a slightly less endearing backroom – the breakfast lounge at The Union Hotel in Penzance. Having to move the cornflakes out of the way before playing might be eccentric but is a lot less fun than having to light the roaring fire at Poet’s Cafe.  Come back Keith, we miss you! We’ll remember it with love when we’re famous. The hardcore posse now seems to be me, John, Brian, Evo and Tony – although Evo’s having a bit too much luck with his “proper” band so we’re missing him a bit….  We’re branching out from Robert into the realms of Fleetwood Mac (Need your love so bad – and I’m trying to persuade them to do Here in my Arms), Stormy Monday and a lovely little tune called How Come which I’ve found a great cover of by The Pogues.

Soul Band has been interesting. I vary between loving it and feeling like I’m in the seventh circle of hell (or whatever the expression is).  Working with Maggi (kind, helpful and better ear than me) the trombone player is great. Thank god the trombone is also in B flat….  Trying to work stuff out “live” at our 2 hour rehearsal with the whole band trying to do the same is ….err… challenging.  I have however “mastered” about 2/3 of our repertoire now, and at least a couple of solos.  Few more to work on before first proper public gig (one my  f&f can buy tickets and come to) on 18 December (Falmouth Watersports Centre, oh go on them, come!). Just wish their “Be Me Baby” was more Lightning Seeds and less karaoke, one of my favourite songs…… sometimes.

First gig was the, incredibly glamourous (honest), Mayor of Penryn’s “Poppy Ball“.  Something definitely clicked into place along with our sparkly black and silver get up, my first ever use of a proper sax mic and being able to walk in saying “I’m with the band”…. We got the grey-heads of Penryn and Falmouth rocking and a rolling, but no,  nice lady who kept asking for requests, we don’t do a “cha cha cha…….”

 

Head in the Clouds……….

Have worked out how to use Sound Cloud. Please go easy, these are early days….. but here is a taster of Backroom Blues…. http://soundcloud.com/samdive

big band, little band, cardboard box….

Summertime…. and there’s far too much to do. Working, diving, kayaking – oh yeah and playing my sax.  Got to admit the practice has suffered a bit from overdose of outdoors. Seems wrong to be blowing boring long notes in the living room when you could be on the water, bad enough being at a desk all day. I will be a MEAN sax player in the winter, honest.  Also looking forward to the new Performance Centre opening at work so I can rent a properly soundproofed rehearsal room and give it some welly (and have a keyboard to play with too).

Might have missed out on the private practice but haven’t yet missed a band rehearsal. Now in two bands – alternate Wednesdays with Falmouth Soul Sensation and Backroom Blues. Soul Band is a loud, mic’d up affair in which I hide behind a couple of far better sax players at the moment (except when I’m feeling cocky – even managed a super loud low b flat this week!), blasting out everything from the Commitments and a few more besides, fronted by some talented young ladies and backed by some older dudes on drum/bass (horn section all slap in the middle 30 somethings…).  So far it’s a little shambolic but when it comes together it sounds fab. Mostly reading rather than improvising which feels very limiting after Blues band, but you can see why when there are three or more of you trying to play together. Not been brave enough to solo yet…. Gigs in the autumn… will be great by then.

Backroom Blues is pootling along nicely, making some progress on our chosen tracks and trying new things when we meet every fortnight.  The lads are bearing with me (only girl, far, far newer to the Blues than anyone else) – and confidence is growing – and when it’s down I can always disappear for a heavenly slice of cake from the Poets Cafe. Have even played a few solos, even if I usually have to do it twice to get it right. Best technique seems to be to just stand up, shut your eyes and go for it….  Was a bit devastated to find a far better sax player there the other week, tried to put on a brave face and play my flute with enthusiasm but it soon turned into a death glare and he decided Blues wasn’t his thing and left….. Apologies if that was anything to do with me (sort of, I really didn’t want to get the boot in favour of a funk player, no matter how good!).  Harmonica player is back from his holidays soon so things should pick up.  Recordings soon….. anything and everything by Robert Johnson looming large, bit of Eric Clapton (mostly Robert Johnson covers) and even the occasional bluesy Stones number.  We rock -  well we don’t (except when the High Voltage contingent forget what night it is), we do whatever Blues people do, and we do it well. In a backroom, home-baked, inspired by cake, out in the woodshed kind of way…. and I loved it when the percussionist came and played wooden spoons on a cardboard box.

So, that’s what’s up…. and when I’m not listening to Soul or Blues to learn the new tunes – my iPod is quaking with Alabama 3 - Rev D Wayne Love has my heart and soul…. Marina and her Diamonds are guiding me towards greater things – “I know exactly what I want, who I want to be….” (if only) and Mumfords are STILL stuck on replay….  more soon.  S x

Having a mixolydian moment….

Another sax lesson.. took it up again this year after almost 20 years break with the single-minded goal of learning to IMPROVISE.  Yes I know my theory (I got up to grade 8 flute and 5 piano and can read music brilliantly – as I never practiced and ended up sight reading in every lesson… ) but I’ve never been able to play without a sheet of notes in front of me.

one day I'll be as good as Lisa

A little while ago I met a certain person who was obsessed with chord progressions and started explaining them to me. It was not too long before I’d dusted off the sax, joined a blues jamming session (http://www.backroom-blues-sessions.com/) and found myself a teacher – Marc Hadley (http://www.abeachsupreme.co.uk/a-beach-supreme-members.htm).  So far Marc and I haven’t got far beyond drinking coffees and talking about chords, but just understanding “the maths” and the fact that no, not all music is in a straight major or minor scale, in fact very little of it is, has made the whole jamming thing so much easier.

This week’s practice – lots of mixolydian mode exercises.  The complicated way of explaining what a mixolydian scale is is that it starts on the 5th note of the major and has the same key signature (so a G mixolydian has no sharps or flats as it’s based on C).  The easy way is that it is the major scale with the 7th flattened (except “real” musicians will kick me for that because ALL their 7ths are flattened…. but anyway, it’s a semi-tone lower than the major 7th) – and it sounds like Sweet Home Alabama….

Scales are kind of boring to play so I’m trying them lots of different ways, different selections of notes, not the whole scale, some legato, some staccato – staccato being a good thing as the Blues session is acoustic and if I wail my notes too long it drowns out everyone else.  Anyhow they are coming along and I can almost play them without thinking. Just don’t ask me to play in g or d flat (forever f and c sharp in my head for some reason!)

My other task this week is to listen to music and play along. I’m meant to playing along to growly  blues tunes (One Kind Favour http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzIC-sgcTBU and Down in the Hole http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw2MjRcVO4g being tracks of the week) but I got a bit distracted and worked out the sax solo to the Saw Doctors’ Clare Island instead http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzz69aR3nh8)- without the twiddly bits so far, don’t want to put Anthony out of a job!

More soon and maybe even a recording if I’m brave enough…

S

Glastonbury 2010 Sunday

Traditionally a day for waking up feeling truly rubbish, discussing the idea of bailing out early and getting a night in your own bed, dreaming of a hot bath, before hauling your sorry self around a few last acts, deciding you’re finally sick to death of noodles and doughnuts and hitting the cider big time… thereby ruining any chance of escape – and who were we to veer from tradition?

A slow start, trek to the car with first load of stuff to make tomorrow easier (wellies, coats, jumpers…. trusting the weather finally) and a meander towards the action.  With blistered feet, grumbly back and a pretty reasonable line up all in one place for a change, I headed to Avalon for my last fix…  only to find “our” usually quiet folksy/country field mobbed.  It seems the Glasto massive is still the right age to remember The Young Ones and turn up to support Adrian “Ade” Edmondson and The Bad Shepherds. Couldn’t get near enough to really indulge but it sounded like enough of a laugh to merit buying a ticket should they make a return visit to Cornwall.

“It’s a lonely world that I got. In my arms…”

Up next, Teddy Thompson – also packed but this time no one in the crowd had a clue who he was (except me – he’s my guilty country secret).  Everyone was actually there to secure a good spot for the last minute, semi-secret appearance by Keane – set to follow Teddy.  Alone on stage with an acoustic guitar, TT needed a band to really get it going. I had a nice snooze on the grass and woke up just in time for “In My Arms” – another iPod 5 star classic…

“I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin”

Keane were, well, Keane. They played all their singalong anthems and yes it was good, but it would have been a whole lot better if the girl standing immediately to my left (ear) had had any kind of sense of pitch whatsoever… everyone sang along and no one could sing. Better get in the front row next time.  Not quite sure what to make of them really. I loved the first album. Just couldn’t get excited about the second. Rumour has it the new stuff is more adventurous, taking a slightly different direction, hope that works for them but there wasn’t much sign of it at this gig…. People do clearly love them a lot though. It took some effort to get yourself into that field!

Next on stage, Judy Collins.  I know I’m suppose to have heard of her and have great respect for her but my love of folk only runs so deep (and not far beyond Irish folk-rock if I’m really honest… except for Seth of course).  Judy sang “Mr Tambourine Man” and a few other now cheesy classics and the old people seemed to like her. I wandered off in search of a drink….

“sometimes I feel, I’ve got to run away, I’ve got to get away”

Imelda May and her rockabilly band clearly had heard of Judy, and gave her the respect she deserves before launching into their retro, bluesy thang… The crowd loved it. I thought I might but it all got a bit repetitive and anyway I soon got a tap on the shoulder from a dear friend of mine I hardly ever see who was there with his band so we repaired to the bar for a catch up. Sorry Imelda and thanks for playing Tainted Love at the end. Even from a distance that sounded pretty cool… and fitted the moment.

“A friend that you can trust in any midsummer’s burning sky”

My Glastonbury drew to a close with The Saw Doctors and if you know me at all that won’t be a surprise. Possibly my favourite band, certainly up there in the top 10, especially live.  Back in the dad-rock genre, I was surprised to see a few other single ladies in the crowd. Normally it’s just me and the truckers.  Fairly low turn-out to start with but the tunes drew a few more in, enough to make it worthwhile pushing up to the front, bouncing up and down and shouting a bit. (So that’s where my voice went….). A predictable set if you know them, a couple of semi-decent new tracks, especially “Be Yourself”. Most importantly they did play “World of Good” – quite possibly my favourite song of all time. You love someone dearly, you can’t be with them but you just wish them every happiness…. a couple of people in my life like that… and if they don’t like “World of Good” they could also dedicate “Saints and Angels” – a Waterboys/Sharon Shannon number to themselves, same sentiment, less shouty…. Bit tired and emotional, end of Glasto blues and too much cider….but then I wasn’t blogging live and still left that in so no excuse really ; )

Thankfully my Glastonbuddies turned up for the last few tracks so the long walk home to the tent for the final time was not as blue as it might have been.  Another Glastonbury over, my 8^th and by far the hottest.  Looking forward to reflecting, watching all the bands I missed on the TV, a long hot bath and a day without cider or sunburn….. and of course, next year.  Thanks Mr Eavis. Xx

Glastonbury 2010 Saturday

An epic day of massive proportions, sore feet and achey back as a result of miles travelled…. Can’t quite do Glasto like I did when I was 20 anymore..  may well die trying though….

“waiting for somebody like you to kiss me senseless”

Today started at The Park for a breakfast of rice, spring rolls and tempura – as more traditional veggie breakfast options seemed in short supply in that neck of the woods. Surprisingly delicious, I will be less of a traditional breakfast-er in future, it’s amazing what you learn at Glastonbury! Officially we were up here to catch “I blame Coco”, but breakfast took too long and we missed her.  Given that the main reason for the trudge up the hill was to see if her famous father was hanging about, we probably deserved to miss it. The next band on The Park stage, “We are Magic” simply were not – so I did my own disappearing act – to The Pyramid stage for The Lightning Seeds via a few ditties from Reef on The Other Stage (older, growlier but otherwise exactly the same – ditto the crowd!).  The first Lightning Seeds set of the day (12.20, Pyramid) was fairly pedestrian. The crowd were still half asleep and thankfully so as there wasn’t too much shrieking for football songs… Ian and his latest gang churned through the classics (Pure, Marvellous, Sense, Sugar Coated Iceberg, Lucky You, his frequent cover of Be My Baby and Life of Riley). I’m pretty sure that was Riley himself on guitar… but he didn’t get introduced. Wonder how it feels to play “your” song? Mediocre set but still nice to see Ian on stage again, if a bit odd. He and I had a brief encounter years ago…. enough said.

“God bless the naked rambler….”

Moving swiftly on, or rather not.. I’d got pretty near the front by now so decided to stay there for Jackson Browne.  Sweltering in the heat, the security guys were filling our water bottles every few minutes. I have no idea how the guys dressed as Mounties in pith helmets and woollen trousers even survived (or why?). Jackson B was fairly tedious. Bit like Marc Cohn (who I love) but without the voice or horn section…. Stuck it out for a few then decided to venture forth into the scary theatre/cabaret/circus fields and track down some poetry from Murray Lachlan Young.  Murray is the cousin of a friend of mine and I worked on his book/album promotion years ago, so this was not as random as it sounds. Sadly however the journey there was. No one knew where the poetry tent was  and after being tripped up by a man on stilts, rammed in the ankles by around 400 baby buggies, blasted with a water pistol by a Morris dancer (quite nice, the water not the Morris dancer!) and getting totally utterly lost.. by the time I found it (in Bella’s field, for next time), the route march back to The Pyramid for Seasick Steve needed to get underway. Sorry Murray.

“You say boy do you really love me, well I ain’t got much words to say. Let me write my answer
down in the sand by the waves”

Seasick Steve played the same set he always plays here with the same jokes and same stunts (find a pretty girl, bring her on stage and sing to her) but was no less endearing for it.  You kind of forgive him because of his age.  Lovely, heartfelt, hard not to fall in love with. All too easy to fall asleep to after a couple of ciders though. Nice backdrop for a snooze in the sun…..

The Dead Weather followed Steve. Allegedly some kind of “super group” involving a Killer, a Queen of the Stone Age and some guy who was once something in The White Stripes (sarcasm.. American readers!)…. but they weren’t very super as far as we were concerned.. so we left them to it.

“better to be hated, than loved, loved, loved for what you’re not”

Marina and the Diamonds had got us excited.  I’m a big fan of Robot and Hollywood and at least one Glastonbuddy admitted to loving her whole album.  Clearly a few others had the same idea, the John Peel stage was packed – bit like Mumford and Sons, clearly allocated a stage before recent meteoric rise to fame.  Maybe we were too far back, maybe we’d had too much cider, but it just didn’t work. All a bit disconnected from the crowd, going through the motions. Heard the two I like and left…. bit sad really, was kind of hoping for a great new artist to follow there.  (ps looked better on the TV when watched back – so maybe it was the distance from the stage…)

“it’s just a test, a game for us to play, win or lose, it’s hard to smile”

Quick stop by the tent to pick up new (old) furry coat and jeans and long, long march up the old railway track to Avalon – my spiritual home this weekend, this time for Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel. Like the rest of the world, I was fairly sure they’d only ever done one decent song but it’s one of very few to earn a 5 * rating on my iPod so I wanted to catch it.  Got there midway through the set only to be told “oh he never plays that one” but rapidly didn’t care.  Every track, new or old, was a classic – can’t remember the names (or the words) but I was either bouncing with the (many) middle-aged dads or standing quietly wanting to cry at the poignancy of the slower lyrics.  He sure knows how to capture an emotion.  Can’t wait to download some more and get to know it.  Not quite sure what got mixed up in my brain or when but dad-rock does seem to do it for me….  Gig rolled on, the sun came out (in more ways than one) and then he said that seeing as we’d been such a good crowd he’d play it. “Come up and See Me” made me smile…. lots.

Quick cider break and time for Charlie Winston… big in France apparently but then again so is David Hasselhof so I didn’t take that to be particularly promising… Bluesy, funky singer songwriter – easy to listen to and had a mild bop with a stranger but it quickly wore off. Nothing much wrong with him just a little dull (Charlie, not the stranger, who was fine) but it did get me in place – a front row, barrier slot for Alabama 3.

“it’s been awhile since I saw your ultraviolet smile”

New to me this year, A3 are hard to describe.  Irvine Welsh has described them as “the only band I could dance to in the daytime without chemical assistance”. They describe themselves as “sweet motherfuckin’ country acid house music”…. work it out for yourselves!  This was an acoustic set so low on the acid house and drum machines and high on the gospel, country and delta blues – but didn’t half get going nonetheless.  The band members are about as flexible as their style. Tonight the core 3 were Larry Love – a grey haired Lothario in big shades, sharp suit and flamingo encrusted shirt,  cool super competent guitarist who may have been “Rock Freebase” getting quietly on with his thang in the corner, and a bloody incredible harp player/singer, “Harpo Strangelove”.   They look great. The sound of ‘em just picks you up and carries you away to a wilder, darker, dirtier (if that’s possible), happier place.  Supplementing the main 3 were the quite simply incredible “Liza” who looks about 17 and sings like a she-devil, the tall, lanky, super glam “Aurora Dawn” (sitting on a stool in a dress that was way too short but damn sexy) and “The Reverend” – young black dude rapping and singing all over and adding a layer of total cool. Set highlights included: U don’t dans 2 Tekno, Woke up this Morning and Speed of Sound of Loneliness – played so slow until you almost shed a tear then kicked up a gear until your worries dropped dead and your feet took over.  LOVED them… just wish their full acid house set tomorrow didn’t clash with the Saw Doctors (yes, weird taste combination I know but you’ll get used to that if you read enough of these).

By now exhausted with sore, sorry feet and and a lower back that wanted to kill me for dancing like I was still 18, I abandoned plans to see Christy Moore in the Acoustic Tent or Jamie T on the John Peel stage and settled back down on the front barrier for a second Lightning Seeds fix….

“just lying, smiling in the dark”

Loads better than this morning, more intimate, more involved and more adventurous in their treatment of the hits – all in all a pretty laidback and pleasant way to finish the night…. with the possible exception of 3 Lions at the end with the crowd roaring, but I guess that had to happen….

Stumbled into the tent about 1.30 to tales of Kylie joining the Scissor Sisters on stage and The Edge rocking out with Muse. Will catch up with that lot on TV. I don’t imagine Alabama 3 made the BBC coverage but they and Steve Harley rocked my world today….

Glastonbury 2010 Friday

“under the shade of a Coolibah tree”

WOW –  a good night’s sleep! Incredible.  Best ever night in a tent let alone at 24-7 Glastonbury… Built from experience though – therma-rest, ear plugs, silk sleeping bag liner and a couple of ciders. Civilised morning too – hair wash under the stand pipe (shhhh we know we’re not meant to but we did get up at 6 especially not to cause a queue), first breakfast of porridge cooked at the tent, second breakfast of watermelon and time to hit the Pyramid stage for the first act – ROLF HARRIS!!

Rolf deserves his name in lights because he’s just turned 80, knows how to give Glasto a good time (and a lesson in syncopated clapping) and can STILL blow a didgeridoo better than any vuvuzela in his Pyramid stage crowd. The place was mobbed and the Glastonbury chorus for “Tie me Kangaroo Down, Sport” was every bit as loud and enthusiastic as it was for Gorillaz later.  Trying to leave the Pyramid at the end of Rolf for The Stranglers at The Other Stage was our first major mistake of the weekend.  Everyone had the same idea and the surging crowd in the boiling heat started the first mutterings of “can’t take this heat, might go home early” from some of our gang. In my experience everyone at some point fantasises about going home early, having a nice hot (or in this case, cold) shower and watching the rest from the comfort of the sofa – but rarely does it happen once the wave of chi-karma-enthusiasm-cider-whatever catches up with you.

“golden brown, texture like sun….”

The Stranglers were strangely absent once we got there. Rumour had it that they’d been watching Rolf, missed their slot and got bumped back in favour of some bloke whose name I didn’t quite catch.  He doesn’t need my help though, he had by far the hugest crowd of his career!  Even if they weren’t really  there for him….

From there I’d promised myself a wander to the Green Fields.  Escaping some hideous noise on The Glade stage (two blokes with Macs and someone yelling do not a band make), I strolled up the delightfully cool old railway track, free from the crowds.  In search of the Croissant Neuf stage and delectable Seth Lakeman, but soon got distracted by the sound of a stonking summer party tune blasting out of the Tadpole Tent.  This had to be done! Carnival Collective – a veritable orchestra of drummers, shakers, cymbal smashers, horns, saxes, a funky, funky bass player and some more serious voices – all having a hell of a good time.  Hard to sum up neatly – samba, salsa, 20’s swing, with a touch of jazz and some essence of Notting Hill.  Most of all, they all looked like they just blimin’ loved playing together. I want to join.  Seriously pondering if I’d find that many wonderful smiley musical people in Cornwall… (they are from Brighton, hardly handy).

The original - no laptop at Glasto

A much demanded Carnival encore and then it was time for Seth.  The tent was heaving – security guys banning camping chairs (too bloody right), taking the sides off the tent and generally preparing for the melee. Got a place near the front with a like-minded lady (how did I know she was like-minded? She just had a huge piece of cake for lunch because she couldn’t decide between the million different stalls. In those situations a big piece of home-made cake wins every time. I knew we’d get on).  A couple of mildly drunk guys joined us – thankfully just drunk enough to be a laugh and get you dancing without being too scary when you’re on your own (Glastonbuddies long since abandoned at a more mainstream venue)…

“Her lonely heart is setting free, all her cares they went sailing out to sea.”

Seth Lakeman is, it has to be said, incredibly easy on the eye.  I’ve never been entirely sure whether I’d be quite so keen on his tunes if he wasn’t – but this sealed it.  Yes of course I would, especially live.  Opening with The Hurlers and scrolling through all the classics – Solomon Browne, Kitty Jay, Lady of the Sea and some promising newbies (slightly more mainstream – good commercial move Seth!), the temperature rose, water was politely passed around (NOT thrown, this is still a slightly more sedate “folk” audience), sprayed on the crowd and Seth told us we “looked hot”..hmm.. so did he….  Wish he’d played “Cherry Red Girl” though.

“is your bed made? Is your sweater on?”

Long walk back to The Pyramid to find my more mainstream friends via a small pot of Ben and Jerry’s (top tip – it’s the same price as the hideous mr softee stuff the evil ice cream vans sell and a million times nicer –and the vans are evil because as soon as the temperature goes up, so do their prices). Willie Nelson was on stage growling away in the background but I can’t say it made much impact. Probably should have paid more attention, legend and all that…. Then a quick blast of Snoop Dogg (when did he lose the “Doggy”?) – really not my scene and an attempt to enjoy La Roux.  (Loved Bulletproof but not enough to want to listen to an hour of “other” songs that sound exactly like it!).  Back to Pyramid for Vampire Weekend.  Despite being a big fan of the songs, they just didn’t work here.  No connection between the stage and the crowd – maybe it’s because they’re American. Can’t imagine Brooklynites getting the farm vibe that easily. Hadn’t realised they weren’t British to be honest – just assumed it seeing as they presumably actually know what an “Oxford Comma” is ….. (as I do, thanks to my parents, a nun, and an 80 year-old grammar teacher).

“And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.”

All in all an uninspiring couple of hours but all was to be rapidly and forcefully put right by the quite frankly bloody wonderful Mumford and Sons on the John Peel Stage. They look good, they sound fantastic, they can really really play – all apparently multi-instrumentalists (singer on the drums for a bit), crazy Bez dancing from the keyboard player and just the most wonderful songs written for years.  Each one so crafted, full of crowd-friendly choruses, hoedowns that last just as long as your legs and lyrics to tug on every heartstring, especially if your lovelife is as catastrophic as mine….almost worth the pain if you can put a song like these together as a result. The bouncing, angry, stomping , shouting, singing, waving and handclapping  made for a cathartic, almost religious experience… even the new stuff was great.  Do you reckon they need a sax player? I will hold on hope…..

“One time lyrics that must stick on ya mi-ind”

Gorillaz were never gonna match it. Outpartied by Dizzee, out-clevered by the Mumfords and a poor substitute for Bono and the gang, they had about as much chance as England v Germany.  I tried… sat out a good ten minutes, but just don’t get it I’m afraid.  Quite liked Blur for a while and will happily stick “Feel Good Inc” on the iPod in the gym, an hour or so of Damon Albarn vanity w*** is not my scene.  With several thousand others, I joined the crowd surge across the field to the John Peel stage for Groove Armada.  Worked with them a bit in my previous muso-life, back in the day when they were just Tom, Andy, a trumpet and a laptop… Now they are a full-on band and they rock! Very sexy dancer/singer, funky beats, memorable choruses and a hypnotic lightshow.  Perfect end to a beautiful day. Glasto 2010 is up there with the best so far – if not for the main stage action (am I getting old?)

Glastonbury 2010 Thursday

“takin’ the train…..”
The train to Glasto is THE way to go! Reserved seat (not that it was busy coming from the west) – straight onto the bus at Castle Cary, no queue and nice people to chat to. Quite fun talking to some random strangers coming here for the first time. Remember that thrill of taking in the scale of it when you first spot the massive, colourful, encamped valley – tingles down the spine of anticipation and no real idea of what to expect. Suddenly we’re at the site and straight in, no messing – whilst hundreds (thousands?) overheat in cards for miles up the road! Thankfully my Glastonbuddies had pitched camp near-ish the bus station entrance so we were chilled out by the tent with a glass (insulated mug!) of cider within a few minutes.
Not a lot happens at Glastonbury on Thursday (apart from 177,800 people arriving, a million different food stands, endless shopping and a million opportunities for people watching). We joined the throngs stomping for hours around the whole city – taking in a slumbering and not quite finished Arcadia, a buzzing (with crystal power?) Green Fields, boiling in the sun-baked bowl of heat in front of West Holts stage – eventually opting for a the shady calm of The Glade – and a few paper cups of cider/ale.

You could tell it was day -1. Everyone still clean(ish), lively and spending money on crazy stuff they’ll never wear again once life as an accountant resumes on Tuesday…. We joined in that bit too and each bought a “fur” coat! Well – the sun was lower in the sky, it was getting chilly and the lock-up where we’d left our jumpers (far too organised) was all of 10 minutes walk away…. Anyhow, now we look glam. Even if after purchase I had some doubts about my veggie-ism, Glastonbury’s whole ethos and the wearing of fur (however fake).
Our only mission for the day was to find a band called Top Shelf Jazz who were allegedly performing at “Thursday 0030” which the geeks amongst us pointed out should either have been last night or in fact “Friday 0030”. They were to play on the “Small World Stage” (SWS). The SWS almost eluded us.. not on any maps, even the info centres hadn’t heard of it. Someone said they thought it was in the Green Fields so we headed that way. We found a stage, decorated like a Globe – a small world in fact – but NOT the SWS…. After following some cryptic signs – “SWS just a little bit further” – but no arrow to say which direction – we found a funky Bedouin style tent, reminiscent of nights in Dahab, with decent tea and coffee and a cosy chilled vibe. The music was not so great – after an interminable sound check (which later became a feature of the whole weekend – everyone took ages to sound check, was it the heat?) – Barcelona’s Gadjo took to the (very low so you could barely see them) stage. They looked promising – 2 saxes, clarinet, accordion and a euphonium. But sadly the sound was more “hey nonny nonny” than Manu Chao (who they clearly wanted to be). Fading fast, we abandoned the Jazz mission and stumbled home.. as the Dance Village squawked into life….