Josh asked me to play a drum for him, that his support set at the James Vincent McMorrow gig might have a bit more clout to it. Being the professional and prolific session musician I am (recent gigs: joining in on Mustang Sally at my cousin's wedding), I agreed.
We rehearsed, 'we' being myself, Josh, and Ed. Ed is Josh's friend from university whom he had roped in to play keys. This merry band gathered on Claude Road - I bearing my floor tom, Ed his Yamaha keyboard, and Josh a great many cups of tea - and made a joyful noise until we deemed ourselves ready.
The evening's proceedings were well-attended, and the opening act in good voice. Verily, the pressure was on. People had paid money, and some had ventured from as far afield as Penarth, to have litres of syrupy folk music poured down their canals. And it was on Scriber & The Scribettes to deliver.
After our set, clad in my rather tattered "Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver" t-shirt, I enquired as to whether or not we did. I, of course, was rather pleased with our performance, but what did Wales think?
My impression was that they rather enjoyed it. The music was well-received, my hair apparently looked very good (my chestnut locks tumbling down my face with each earthy thump of the batter-head), and Josh's CD sales speak for themselves.
He sold at least 9, which means he can throw another eighteen pounds on top of the stack he was given just for showing up and doing a few songs. Some would suggest that such affluence leaves sufficient room for paying one's backing band, but others would criticise these cynics for selling out.
All things considered, then, a fine showing. Particularly commendable was, of course, the song that I had no part in whatsoever - the vocals-only 'Slow Runner', which can be found here. Josh belted it out, unaccompanied, in front of a packed room, and that takes balls.
Joel.
P.S. Oh, McMorrow was really good too. I got an indirect shout-out for being the first ever person to spot that he was playing a song by Phosphorescent in the sound check. Josh had his hand shook by the man himself, and duly proclaimed that it would henceforth be his wanking hand.
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