AGAs, Dirtboxes, Emergency G-strings

“The AGA, she is dead. The eggs, they will not scramble. This breakfast, she is not working. Le poopie.”

This morning, in countries all over the world, my friends of the facebook persuasion were greeted by this mournful statement. Messages of sympathy and condolence rushed in, with offers to mail scrambled eggs from near and far (mostly far, which is why I didn't go for it), expert tips on the alternatives of eating scrambled eggs (to wit, not eating scrambled eggs, which isn't an option I'm prepared to entertain) and in one case (Barra) a full and comprehensive list of links of where to buy all the things I need to make and eat scrambled eggs without the use of a static cooking apparatus. Thanks Barra. Through the tears and the heart-wrenching moans, it struck me that some of you may not understand how someone can develop such a strong symbiotic relationship with a cooker. It's very simple, but to be properly fathomed, it requires a little history lesson. Please note that, over the course of my research, there have been several areas where information has not been forthcoming, interesting, or both. I have therefore used by own common sense to fill in the blanks

AGAs. They're an interesting breed. Paleontologists have found fossil evidence to suggest that great herds of AGA once traveled the plains and grasslands of Sweden. They were briefly hunted for their horns, but man's interest in these dwindled when it was realized they don't have any, and there was much awkward shuffling of feet. Sometime between 1322 and 1911, a male and female AGA were presented to the King and Queen of England by a naturalist and confirmed hanky-pankyist. The pair promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the A-Team and slowly populated the British Isles with their progeny, and the modern AGA was born. In stark contrast to its distant ancestor, this modern AGA was a solitary and slow-moving exothermic creature. Mindful of the whole 'horn' debacle, they avoided humans (cos you just don't forget that shit), and humans, being generally a bit embarrassed about the episode in question, pretty much left them to their own devices.

This peaceful co-existence was brought to a big ol' cock of an end when scrambled eggs were invented by Sir Joshua Scramble (who also invented the popular past-time Chicken-On-A-Trampoline on the very same day... the talented scallywag). When it emerged that these great hulking gentle giants were best for scrambling eggs, they were mercilessly hunted throughout the countryside. Typically, a highly paid mercenary (known for some reason as a Matthew-Of-The-Hidden-Valley, and later, simply as an Aga-man) would spot a wild AGA and alert his employers, who would build a house around the poor creature and then move in. It's a common misconception that the house comes first and the AGA is later installed; a gross disrespect to the noble animal in question. Subscribing to the tenet of 'Location, location, location', an Aga-man, a team of builders and the eventual home-owners would sometimes follow an AGA nonstop for months until it reached a suitable south-facing location.

For the discerning cook, the AGA is an ideal pet. In exchange for a modest diet of oil or gas, the AGA will cook your food, boil your water, and heat the kitchen. They require little in the way of cleaning up and training. My efforts to take ours for a walk has, to date, been largely fruitless, but I shall persevere. The total inability to increase or decrease the amount of heat provided instigated the 'It'll Be Ready When It's Fecking Ready!' school of culinary design. Research shows that AGAs introduced into the wild has a hard time adjusting, especially the red ones. It's important to remember how dependent we are on one another, ever more so in April which, as we all know, is Hug An AGA Month. So take time out of your busy schedule to hug an AGA, then bask, as I do, in the worried faces of concerned family and friends.

... anyway...

Music is also going well. The Easter bank holiday was a finger-bruising affair of four One Horse Pony gigs unceremoniously stuffed into three days, mentioned in my last post as 'PonyFest' The final night was a bluesy marathon of two 2-hour shows played back to back; first our weekly acoustic session, followed by a midnight show in another venue. Luckily, some friends were on hand to help us out at the session, and knowing that we were very much under the gun, took over some of the singing duties to spare our lovely voices (...), and in general kept us perked up and playing well. It was well and truly a helter-skelter blast of a weekend.

The excitement didn't end with the long weekend. The Fast.Like.Fun track 'Good Girls With Bad Dreams' was played on national radio and the DJ gave us a lovely shout-out. Happy days! I'm also happy to report that all that mucking around I did with my pedalboard has paid off! Not only is my rig free from unwanted buzz and hum, I'm also happy to welcome back one of my favorite pedals back into the fold; the EHX Big Muff Pi with Tone Wicker! This particular version of the Muff is essentially the same old dirtifier used since the dawna'time, but with a switchable top boost (which can be handy sometimes) and the ability to take the tone stack out of the circuit (which is handy ALL THE TIME). Flicking that little switch brings on a huge volume boost, crystal highs and lovely tight lows. It really shows you how much a passive tone stack takes away from mids, and depending on the EQ of the amp, will make every other hatebox sound thin and/or muffled by comparison. Thing is though, I haven't been using it, as I thought the facility to power it off the mains was kaputt (and I dislike using batteries). Turns out I was using it with a power supply that wasn't giving it enough juice. A quick rearrangement of power supplies has seen me reunited with my favorite distortion pedal, causing me to do all kinds of happy dances. I must say however, that the Boss DS-1 deserves an honourable mention here, as it proved a fine substitute while the Muff and I weren't talking, and it'll stay on my board, both as a standby and as it has a significantly different texture to to the Muff.

So what else is new...? Last monday at the session, I experimented (due to necessity as much as curiosity) with using a G-string (huh huh huh shuddup) an octave higher than usual. In a moment of horror, I realized (erroneously as it happens) that I didn't have a spare G to replace the one I had just snapped. Acting purely on instinct (and alcohol), and with deftness of hand (and alcohol), I slapped on a .012 gauge, generally used as the high E, and tuned it up an octave higher than a G normally would be. The result was surprisingly excellent! It gave a lovely shimmery 12-string effect in the midrange. I encourage all you guitar players to get good and drunk and then give it a go. It makes lead work a bit pants, but it provides a lovely textural difference to chord work. I'm giving serious thoughts to re-stringing one of my acoustics and tuning it to 'Nashville tuning', which is essentially standard tuning, but raised either one or two octaves (depending on the string). Summit to fink about anyway...

Anyway, enjoy the rest of Hug An AGA Month, guys. Here's hoping it'll be the best HAAM yet. Mmmmh, ham...

More to come guys

Much love and thanks for reading :-)

R

PS Just to clear things up a bit, the AGA is fine. It just needs a service. More on this story as it develops. Here's Tom with the weather.

Reflections on Kitchens, FLF, Time Warp, PonyFest

60^th birthday last night. Not mine, o' course. Only knew a handful of people there and, as is the way of these things, I was the youngest there, bar a very young lamb (and lambs are generally pretty young to begin with) who was inexplicably to be found in the Old Kitchen. The party took place in a beautiful big old house in the country; the kind of place that warrants an Old Kitchen that everyone uses, and a New Kitchen, where nobody wants to touch anything or learn how to use the trendy new kettle. On completion of the New Kitchen however, the people who own the house (with admirable foresight) totally stripped the Old Kitchen of the trappings of Kitchenhood (probably not a word), making the New Kitchen just The Kitchen, and everyone's just going to have to come to terms with the New Kettle, hereafter The Kettle.

My musings on the subject got me through that initial 'I don't know anyone here' period, but duty called after a while, and it was time to introduce myself, not as the guy who had spent the last half hour running between the New Kitchen and the Old Kitchen, pointing at kettles and giggling uncontrollably, but instead as charming young Rob, always ready with a smile, a helping hand, and witty retorts that, on balance, would have sounded fantastic about five minutes previous, and would have made everyone laugh. Ah well.

This week is gonna be a bit crazy. Fast.Like.Fun are in action on Thursday night, supporting a really cool band called Fred. Fred also happens to be my father's nickname in school (he's one of those educator types), so he was quick to point out that, on hearing I was supporting Fred, this was a welcome change since Fred had supported me long enough. Much huh huh huh-ing ensued. After my midweek dose of rock, it'll be acoustic skullduggery all the way for the weekend. One Horse Pony are in action on Saturday and Sunday in the Franciscan Well on top of our usual Monday session, after which we'll be hightailing it across town to play the midnight show in the Crane Lane. Thank God, Buddha, Zeus and feckin Yoda we'll have a PA for Saturday and Sunday, cos if we were playing unplugged (and more importantly, unmic'ed) the normal dulcet angelic quality of my voice (huh) would be reduced to the thin reedy squawk of a primitive string bowed instrument being inexpertly played by a young yak. Yeah. That sound. Even at that, I'll have to take it easy at the Monday night session.

Thankfully, after the Jan/Feb Slump of Doom and Destruction, things are beginning to pick up. The prevailing wisdom in this part of the world is that St. Patrick's Day reminds people that having fun is nice, so gigs are beginning to trickle in, crowds are growing (and not in the gaining weight way) and people are starting to ask about guitar lessons again. Excellent stuff altogether!

Sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry

I started writing this entry last Sunday. It is now Saturday. See, I told you it was gonna be a mental week. Fast.Like.Fun show the other night was a blast! I think we gave a pretty good account of ourselves. Among the crowd were a whole bunch of people I hadn't seen in far too fecking long, such as acoustic heartbreaker Sea Moose and former Alamo Bandit (my blues-rock 3 piece) bass players The Goose and Mowgli. Like me, they're also alumni of the Howling Dead of The Confederate Army, a shortlived blues-rock supergroup that got together in the New Bar in UCC for a jam, and were asked to be the house band after 3 songs. 

Yesterday I tried desperately to remember what I used to do for fun on a friday night before I was allowed to buy alcohol (The sale of alcohol is illegal on Good Friday... Yoda wouldn't have put up with this). If memory serves (and at this point, you're probably aware that I'm not the most cerebral of individuals) I think cartoons were involved. So that's what I did, with a side order of colouring thrown in for good measure. Staying in the lines and everything!

Another upshot of the weird time jump that occurred at the start of the last paragraph is that 'this weekend' has become 'now'. Meaning that PonyFest is upon us. For the next three nights, you'll be able to catch One Horse Pony in our regular spot in the Franciscan Well, strumming things, hitting things, blowing things (huh huh huh shuddup), singing at things, drinking things and plucking things; all to introduce some Stomp into what's already going to be a thoroughly excellent weekend. The beer festivals in the Well are legendary. For two or three days, beer connoisseurs flock (or whatever the term for the habitual locomotion for a beer connoisseur is) together to experience the bar's own award winning brews, as well as those of most of the other brewers in the country. And we'll be right in the middle of it.

I know what you're thinking Do we have the necessary self control to play three gigs in the presence of the best beer in the country and not get completely rat-arsed? Do we have the professional comportment and self respecting bearing to do our job in a clean, sober and efficient way? These are very real concerns, but put you're mind at rest. We don't. No fecking question about it. This is probably the last time I'll be able to pronounce 'connoisseur' (not to mind spelling it) for the next few days, so I might as well make the most of it; connoisseur... connoisseur... connoisseur... connoisseur...

In actual fact, the desire to do a good job, and our thorough love of playing together will keep us away from temptation (within reason of course...)

Thanks for reading, guys. Might see some of you over the weekend :-)

laters

R

OHP gig, Rory, the etiquette of peeing oneself

I always forget! I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the sharpest cornflake in the toolshed, but surely something that crops up every year and lasts over two months is likely to make an impression. In my defense, it hardly happened at all last year. Still though...

I am referring of course to the January/Febuary slump that hits musicians (and everyone else) every year with the force of a hurled plaster bust of Seth McFarlane, with approximately the same comedic effect, which is to say, no comedic effect. Luckily, the early months of a fledgling 2013 have been peppered with lovely gigs that, if not keeping my pockets jingling (which reminds me, has anyone seen my keys?), are certainly keeping a smile on my face and whatever orifice the body uses to store artistic pride full of same. Last week saw Fast.Like.Fun get in the Funmobile (it's actually a red Transit van) and head to Waterford for a gig in a lovely little venue called Murphy's (just opposite the bus station if you're in the area). All and sundry had a great time. Ohio the OHP cello-meister came up to see us, in the company of his mother and sister who are over from the States visiting their no-good son/ ne'er-do-well brother. I also had a chance to catch up with some friends from college, which was long overdue, and really added to the friendly atmosphere of the gig.

Another rockin rollicking good time was had last wednesday, when One Horse Pony finally played a gig in the Crane Lane. You've heard me talking about the place many times at this stage. It's a place I've been playing for years with various different bands. Last wednesday's performance could well have been my favorite performance there to date. The difference between the youtube clips I sent the booking agent (clips which are over a year old) and the band that we have become is profound. The visual difference is as good as any to illustrate just how much we've grown. The clip featured meself, Badger, Harmonica Niall and a guest drummer dishing it out goodo. Plenty of energy, good music and much shape-throwing to get the crowd into the spirit of things. By comparison, the band that played on Wednesday featured guitars, harmonica, bodhran (the lovely Irish traditional drum made from dead animal), cello, low whistle and harmonica (courtesy of Kev, our new brother-in-arms). Seated in a horseshoe shape rather than standing, but still giving out goodo and relying solely on the music to speak for itself and get people going was the order of the day. It worked. Five-part harmonies? More or less, yeah! We were lucky to be playing to a large crowd (who wasted no time in showing off their excellent dancing abilities), and we were well-rehearsed, tight and comfortable. But you know what? Excellent performances from everyone, a great crowd, a happy venue, a few fluff-ups that made us giggle and every other facet that makes a great gig great will forever be eclipsed in my memory by what happened after the gig.

So let me set the scene. The bouncers are clearing everyone out. We're all hanging out at the back of the smoking section close to the cigarette machine and the toilets, having a well deserved cigarette and a bit of communal back-patting session (that sounds bad, but isn't). A girl, having dodged the army of eight foot bouncers, made her way towards us and started talking what can best be described as gibberish. Fair enough, we go along with it and whole-heartedly concur with all the bits we can understand, and generally agree that yes, on balance her boyfriend is a twat, her friends are an awful shower, and, all things considered, her shoes ARE very nice. She then unceremoniously pissed herself.

The tomes of social etiquette are silent on what to do in this situation. Naturally if the person in question looks justifiably mortified, you assure him/her that these things happen to the best of us, and they're among friends. If it happens to be a very pretty girl doing the peeing, I (being the chivalrous type) might even pee my own pants in solidarity and sympathy. That's not quite true, but a little giggle-inducing to think about. The girl in question however, did not look shocked or embarrassed, but instead comported herself as you would stubbing out a cigarette or checking the time; a perfectly understandable reason for briefly stopping the flow of conversation, and best done quickly and efficiently, so as not to delay the chat. I took this opportunity to make an exit, owing to a deep-seated belief that incontinence is contagious.

Fast.Like.Fun were in operation last night supporting Irish metal heavyweights Time Is A Thief. We had a great gig with a great response from the attending rawkers *devil horns rock gesture thing* but it was the second time in as many gigs I've had a glaringly bad 'pedalboard malfunction' which is a little like a wardrobe malfunction, but with marginally less nipple. At the crucial time, instead of hitting the 'makey-louder' pedal I accidentally pressed the 'mutey-poo' one. These are technical terms. Yep, still not brightest bridge in the box, but now I have an excuse to spend a few hours industriously mucking about with my pedalboard. I can positively feel the envy radiating off you.

On a slightly strange note, I just realized (mostly because facebook just told me) that it's Rory Gallagher's birthday today. Being from his hometown, and a blues-rocker at heart, I'm a tremendous fan of Rory, spent many an hour learning some of his solos note for note (or so I thought at the time... I was but a young'un) and cut my teeth in a blues bar founded in his honour. In that blues bar, I first performed in public and, especially significantly today, fronted a band for the first time, on Rory's birthday. That would have been this day six years ago. Teehee. It's coming up to 9pm at time of writing, and it doesn't take a colossal leap of imagination to think of my younger self completely shitting it, half an hour away from playing a gig with my first full blues band. It went pretty well as I recall. At some stage I'll sit down and write an entry about Rory. He's certainly a guy worth talking about. For now, happy birthday Rory! You're missed.

That's all for the moment, guys. I'm off to play a game of Hunt The Keys.

Thanks for reading. More to come :-)

R

1926, FLF show, OHP recording session, Balanced breakfast.

“Four score and seven years ago...”

When someone starts with this, you know shit just got real...

*ahem*

“Four score and seven years ago...”

Gettysburg, wasn't it?

Anyway...

“Four score and seven years ago...”

Look, being honest, I don't have bearded notion what was happening 87 years ago. This little Lincolnian device was meant to add a certain gravitas to my first buh-log of 2013, and it really hasn't panned out. So let's see what Jimmy Whales has to say about this. According to Wikipedia, 1926 began on a friday. In the proceeding twelve months, Fascism features heavily in the news, Mussolini survives two separate assassination attempts, and the average Cool factor per capita on planet Earth is substantially increased with the births of Miles Davis (with whom I share a birthday, but not THAT birthday), Marilyn Monroe and John Coltrane. Other notable births include Hugh Heffner and Mel Brooks. A Dick Dale was born. This Dick Dale, however, was not THE Dick Dale. Just A Dick Dale. Well done, 1926. Not bad at all for a small-town year that began on a Friday.

Moving on...

Four score and seven years ago, or more accurately, 11 months ago, I took to the stage in one of Cork's more prestigious venues with Keith and Barra to play a short support slot for our friends Senakah. This band had rehearsed twice, had four songs, and no name. 11 months later (that's last Wednesday), having released an EP and three videos, having garnered over 10,000 youtube views, and gained a whole heap of new friends and fans, played a bunch of shows, and with national radio-play and offers to tour internationally well and truly in the bag, Fast.Like.Fun (oh yeah, we picked up a name along the way too) returned to the Crane Lane Theatre to play our own show.

And? And??? It went wonderfully! We pulled in a massive crowd (far bigger than I expected, and it wasn't like I was being overly pessimistic), got everyone dancing, and got a great review from an online tv station (I'm not actually sure what that is, but the young people assure me it's what all the cool kids are doing). Maybe I'm being a little overly dramatic about it, and I'm not altogether sure if I can explain the way I feel about it, but it felt like a landmark gig. I suppose it just book-ends the last year (give or take) of Fast.Like.Fun-related hijinx nicely, with us returning to our first stage, this time with a full set and a full house of people who know and like (hopefully) the music. I suppose the gig last Wednesday is the end of the first chapter in the FLF story (a raunchy and exciting tale of questionable grammatical integrity) The first chapter of many, I might add :-)

The shows in the Crane run pretty late (pretty late for Ireland anyway). I was on stage for 1am, off by 2am and gratefully collapsing into my bed at 4am. A leisurely three hours later the alarm went off and out of bed I stumbled in preparation for the penultimate recording session for the One Horse Pony album. I've long been in the habit of setting my alarm clock ridiculously early in these situations, simply because I know that these early-mornings-after-late-nights are fraught with all manner of confusion and accidents of the porridge-in-hair-instead-of-gel variety. After only three minutes of methodical experimentation, I managed to unlock the front door and, benefitting greatly from the balanced breakfast trickling down the back of my neck, off I toddled into town.

We set ourselves a timetable which, at best, could be described as rigorous for the day's recording. Over the course of the ten hour session we wrapped up the last guitar parts and Badger's vocals, unleashed the Meerkat and his Low Whistle of Destiny (+5 to Dexterity, +8 to Groove) on our take on the Robert Johnson classic Last Fair Deal, kazoo'd some kazoo, laid down some seriously soulful backing vocals, and even found the time to knock out some handclaps (or 'claps' as they're commonly known...) on some of the tracks. Handshakes (and accompanying winces) ensued, and we made our way back West, thoroughly exhausted, but satisfied at a job well done. Big shout-out to Jenny Mac, a stunning singer based in San Francisco who happened to be back in Ireland. She added a lovely country vibe to the backing vocals on a song of mine called 'Blue When I Go'. There are some photos of the session to be found on the One Horse Pony facebook page (link waaaay over there on the right), so take a look, leave a comment and/or engage the Blue Thumb of Approval on anything that takes your fancy. I've got to say, the more I listen to the album, the more I love it. I can't wait for you guys to hear it! 

Life remains sweet. The Hound and I have start running again after a sedentary winter. Let the local poultry population beware! I continue to be surrounded by (and at times, propped up by) wonderful people, and 2013 promises to be a good'un. A bit late, I suppose, but I wish all of you a happy new year, and sincerely hope that it's happy, productive, and filled with love, laughter, good friends, good food and good music.

Thanks for reading guys, more to come :-)

Later

R

Concerning Ties, Gigs and Onesies

It has been a tiny little chunk of 'far too fecking long!' since I buh-logged some buh-log in your general direction, dear Reader. Here's my best middle class apologetic-and-politely-embarrassed face to make up for it. Notice the scrunched up cheeks and a general forehead topography your average Klingon would be proud of? Please also note that I'm smiling in a way that suggests I'm going to get away with it. Gimme a tick, let me put on this tie and stand next to this water-cooler. Better? Look, the point is that I'm sorry. That used to be enough for you! I'm taking this tie off in disgust.

The truth is, it's hard to think of stuff with which to load the buh-log cannon. I could be rocking out all over the place, playing a whole host of great shows with the cool cats I'm lucky enough to play with, but by the end of the week, the only thing I can remember about the week is that we're trying a new type of peanut butter and the Hound tried to kill a chicken. Speaking of peanut butter and the Hound, we're trying a new type of peanut butter (preliminary results indicate that it's ok), and the Hound tried to kill a chicken while we were out walking. Not happy about that at all. The chicken didn't take it well either.

As it happens though, the last two weeks have been dotted with some lovely gigs, a few of them quite landmark in their own small way. Small landmarks. You get those, you know. Chrono-mologically speaking, the first was Fast.Like.Fun's first headlining gig, in a lovely venue in Cork called An Bróg. That's Irish for 'The Shoe', which takes away from the place's rock credence I suppose. Pronounced 'brogue', by the way. And that's where 'a pair of brogues' comes from. That little ingot of info would very likely qualify for a “...and knowing is half the battle...” if G.I. Joe had been more footwear-oriented. So yeah, Fast.Like.Fun gig! I'm happy to report that it couldn't have gone better! The support acts we got in were fantastic, we drew a sizeable crowd of people fully intent on rocking out, and the new material went down a storm! One of the things that really got me was that I recognized quite a lot of heads of the local music scene in attendance, everything from punk rockers to metallers, from folkies to jazz-heads, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it. That's alright with me! We played tighter than we've ever done before, and although we deviated from the setlist once or twice, the set we eventually played had a lovely flow to it. The fact that we have now have a full set, in which we have the confidence and comfort needed to properly play it means we'll be able to take Fast.Like.Fun further afield, which will be kicking off in the new year. Interesting times ahead!

The second gig that really stands out in the last few weeks was far more intimate and chilled out. In one of those scenarios that often happens in any music scene, I had played with each of the two singer-songwriters I was accompanying in the past, and they have worked extensively together, but it was the first time we had all shared a stage. The result was fantastic! The room was packed, and yet still had a lovely intimate feel, the sound was great, and the fact that we all have different playing styles meant that the three acoustic guitars were very complimentary of one another, rather being muddy. We got a great response from all and sundry, so I won't be surprised if there aren't more of these down the road. If you get the chance, check em out; Lynda Cullen and Fintan Lucy. Both have a wealth of self-penned songs in their repertoire, and are absolute joys to play with. The barman even suggested a name for this incredibly attractive and effortlessly harmonising little ensemble (not biased...); LynFinTintin, owing in part to the Hergé-esque nature of my hair on the night. Much guffawing ensued...

The third was a few nights ago. What made this one is bit strange was that it was the first time I've played a solo gig in years, and the first time I've ever played a show of just my own songs. I've got to say that I have a newfound respect for singer-songwriter-y types. It can be a bit lonely up there all on your lonesome! For all that, it went very well. I played a few songs of mine that fit neither the One Horse Pony groove nor that of Fast.Like.Fun, so it was nice to give them an airing. Since playing on my own is something on which I want to focus more, it gave me a lot to think about. Figuring out a way to fill the spaces I'd generally leave to for a lead break is one that comes to mind. Although that ability to play a melody over a basic rhythm part is something I admire in many of my favorite guitar players (particularly in the acoustic world) it's not something I can do very well for much of my stuff. Definitely something worth taking a look at. The kazoo (commonly referred to as Satan's kazoo by OHP) made an appearance, but the kazoo is, to me at least, a novelty in my material, and I'm reluctant to make it a bigger part of my set. The kazoo is just going to have to deal with that.

On a none musical note (there's probably a joke in there somewhere), life in this neck of the woods continues to be sweet. In the sticks though, you feel the seasons a lot more. The desire to hibernate is positively palpable. Productivity has gone way down, and doses of the flu, colds, shivers, sniffles and sore throats are never more than a few steps away. A crappy summer, crappy weather and the onset of Christmas-related financial woes have left all of us at the Ranch a little drained and more dependent on vitamin C supplements than we have any business being. Both the Hound and I are really feeling the lack of running. Luckily, I've discovered that the trick to surviving such bleak days and chilly nights is to surround oneself with good people, invest in a good onesie and to never pass up the opportunity of engaging in a rigorous game of 'Rob has Stick, Rob throws Stick, Hound gets Stick, Stick belongs to Hound now, feck off Rob'. As an aside, if anyone out there knows where I can find a onesie that looks like a Star Trek: Next Gen uniform, please let me know. You don't know how happy owning such a garment would make me.

More to come, dear Reader. Thanks for reading

Later

R

PS

As a bit of a PS to the blog I posted 30 seconds ago, I just thought I'd let you know that, aside from album magical-ness, all's good in the hood. Last weekend saw One Horse Pony having a lovely time back on Sherkin Island. The weather was beautiful, the drink flowed, the music thoroughly rocked, and we were joined by a few guests who came over especially. An impromptu jam was had on the ferry. Weird sporty croc-type shoes were found in a ditch. I went for a run in a pair of ladies shorts that wouldn't quite close. There was a dog.

Tomorrow night will be the first official gig of the new One Horse Pony line-up, to which I'm really looking forward. To celebrate, here's a photo (taken by Barra Vernon) of us having a bit of a jam at the tail end of our recording session at the house. Take a look, and marvel at how such a crowd of malignant, malicious looking mouth-breathers can make such a heavenly sound :-)

One Horse Pony; Meself, Meerkat, Ohio, the Badger 

We'll have a bit of rehearsal a little later on, and tomorrow is dedicated to getting ready for three days of buses, gigging and teaching, followed RAWKING with the Pony. Given all that, I think I shall accompany the Badger, the Dame and Ohio for a quick expedition to the pub.

later,

R

Album, Captain Picard, Click-tracks...

“Right,” said he, giving the old blogging muscles a bit of a flex, “time to sit dull-eyed in front of my laptop while I have a gap between lessons and buh-log a mofo'in buh-log!”

This last month has been mental. Not 'kind of interesting', and not 'lots of fun, when you think about it'... no, it's been taking-off-your-clothes-and-running-from-the-police, the-studio-audience-are-zombies, talking-to-a-fish Mental. With a capital 'M', and possibly a capital 'E' too, just for good measure. In the last month, One Horse Pony did most of the tracking for our debut album! With a capital '!', cos thats how I roll...

After much talk over fine cigars and brandy (or possibly beer and cigarettes; my memory of that night is a little hazy) Badger and I decided that, in order to make the best album possible, inflicting ourselves on an unsuspecting studio wasn't a viable option. There could be casualties. Instead, after much humming and hawing (although I'm not actually sure how one 'haws') we decided that there was really nowhere we felt more comfortable, and nowhere we bounced off each other better, than home. So Ranch, sweet Ranch was where we recorded! And who better to bring down to engineer than Barra Vernon; engineer extraordinaire, not to mention drummer in Fast.Like.Fun.

In the weeks running up to starting recording, the whole thing was put in danger by a serious personnel change. Harmonica Niall parted company with OHP for personal reasons. Despite the fact that it wasn't an easy parting, I wish him well. 'Nuf said, really. We decided to truck on regardless, and were rewarded almost instantly. The week before we were set to record, we had a big jam session at the Ranch, for which we had finally got our hands on a cello for our houseguest Ohio, a self-confessed cellist and reformed Heavy Metal enthusiast. No sooner had he bowed that strange bastard instrument of doom and destruction, smiles erupted on the faces of all present. Cello works in blues!! I mean it really works! The way Ohio plays it, the cello does the work of a double bass, as well as occasionally raising up an octave or three to deliver lead breaks that will cause all and sundry to grab their partner, skip the dosey-doh'ing entirely , and move right on to doing unspeakable things to various parts of them. His inclusion on the album was immediately agreed upon.

So recording week arrived, bringing with it an atmosphere of excitement, anticipation and perhaps a wee bit of trepidation. Barra's extensive arsenal of recording equipment was deposited in the lounge (henceforth, the live room) and the man-cave (henceforth, the control room). Meerkat (henceforth, the Meerkat) was deposited in the spare room (henceforth... ah, you get the picture), all ready for kick-off bright and early the next day.

And, despite an attack of batarang-wielding vampires and that guy from my old work who was inexplicably dressed as Captain Jean-Luc Picard, that's exactly what happened. Maybe that last bit was a dream. No, I remember it clearly. Anyway, guitars went down first, a seriously long and lengthy process. Long and lengthy due to the fact that we decided early on use a click track, which is metronome-like audio track that is used by cunning engineers to frustrate musicians through their headphones. That, and it keeps us excitable types in time, allowing further instruments to be added to the track at a later date with the greatest of ease. It means though, that the first track to be put down on every song is a thundering beee-atch to do properly. I've worked with click tracks before, and experience has taught me that we don't get on. They're inconsiderate and refuse to compromise, their taste in wine sucks and they're respective mothers didn't raise them right. Eventually however, we managed to get it all done.

After that, in fairness, all went well. Once the primary guitar track was lovingly (huh) set down by either Badger or myself, the other put second guitar track down. A mish-mash (a word? I think so...) of bodhran (the traditional Irish hand-drum, played expertly by Meerkat), cello and vocals, followed and were individually ticked off, track by track. In my experience, recording can be a seriously stressful affair. Regardless of the studio, be it Abbey Road, or a converted living room, that search for the perfect take, frustration at oneself, nerves, and Satan-worshiping click-tracks, can cause tempers to fray like kittens attacking a tapestry, chairs to be hurled at walls, bandmates to be defenestrated, and, in the extreme case of a Ary Barroso recording in August 1939, a world war. Our recording process, on the other hand, was a peaceful and productive affair, where any frustration was brief and spirits remained high, mostly due to the lovely atmosphere, copious amounts of good food, and the presence of automatic weapons.

One particular piece of good luck occurred on the last day of primary tracking. Having maintained a bit of a 'closed shop' policy for most of the week, we suddenly found ourselves with half a dozen guests on the sunday afternoon, just in time for everyone to don a pair of headphones and roar along with No More Water, an a cappella gospel song of mine. The results sound like a fire 'n' brimstone congregation, ready to lay some righteous smack-down on sin, temptation, and probably click-tracks. Or something like that.

So that's about it, as it stands. A few more recording sessions, and everything will be done. We'll be well on the way to unleashing a great album, of which we're exceedingly proud, on an unsuspecting public. Low whistle (a traditional pipe common to Irish trad music, again played wonderfully by the Meerkat), backing vocals, claps, shakers, a little bit of guitar and a few other bits and pieces all need to be put down, and thankfully I'm surrounded by dear friends who can do all that with the very best of 'em. This is the first album on which I'll be producer as well as musician, and the people I'm working with have made it an absolute blast. The ball is well and truly rolling on a very exciting time in the life of the Pony. As always, I'll do my best to keep you posted. Life remains sweet.

More to come, guys. Thanks for reading :-)

R

Rig Rundown, general guitar porn, buffets.

A not-too-unexpected upshot of making a return to electric guitar with Fast.Like.Fun is the resurgence of my obsession with guitar toys. Prior to this, most of my playing for the last two years had been acoustic, which doesn't lend itself much to spending of lots and lots of money on shiny things. That's not to say there aren't shiny things for acoustic guitar. There's plenty of that, mostly stemming from the fact that most acoustics used in a live setting are equipped with a piezo under-saddle pickup to allow easy amplification. And piezos sound, and I'm not being funny here, dear Reader, exactly like the sound you get when you shove something up, or indeed, pull something out of, a hungover duck. Thankfully though, I play a Taylor 314ce, which is equipped with Taylor's very own Expression System, which means my acoustic guitar actually sounds like an acoustic guitar when it's plugged in. This is a good thing.

Electric guitar is a different kettle of ducks, though. Having been previously a bit of a plug-in and play kinda guy, I now have cause to explore some of the interesting sounds and textures effects units can add to an electric guitar rig. And when I'm in that exploratory mood, nothing gives me greater pleasure than perving on the rigs of well known guitar players. There's a couple of different resources online to indulge this little obsession of mine, but the best has got to be the Rig Rundown portion of Premier Guitar online magazine. These guys are fantastic! Installments are generally between 10 and 40 minutes long, and take the form of an onstage interview with either the artist in question or their guitar tech. Either way, you're dealing with someone who knows what they're talking about. The rigs range from the deceptively simple to massive monolithic racks of goodies, pedal boards the size of swimming pools and designer cables made by aliens. And I take it all in with the enthusiasm of a fat man who knows the buffet's closing in twenty minutes.

If you get the chance, here's a couple of choice interviews. In no particular order, check out Kenny Wayne Shephard, John McLoughlin, Eric Johnson and that guy who was Elton John's guitar player for a while, and who's now playing acoustic jazz. As far as I'm aware its the only rig rundown that deals with just acousticy stuff. His name escapes me, but it will come to me. Once I look him up. Of the ones I've listed, KWS's is the longest and most detailed. It's also nice to see that the guys I admire most are generally not dependent on massively expensive uber-rare neutron-powered bi-phase quad-stereo flux capacitor-powered germanium-boosted toggle flange pedals that were made by a blind monk and only in production for 5 hours in April '84, but instead on the good old reliables such as Boss and EHX. Generally pedals one doesn't have to sell one's kids to afford, in other words. John Jorgenson is the name of the acousticy guy, by the way. His name just came back to me, shortly after I wikipedia'd him. Now there's a man with a serious track record.

So there you go, dear Reader. If you're a fellow string molester, then I encourage you to check out Rig Rundown. Apart from the gear porn, there's plenty of insight to be gleaned from good players talking about their playing. If you don't play guitar, but are now understandably curious about this whole 'guitar porn' lark, spend an educational five minutes having a look at all the mind-numbingly boring stuff that nevertheless pushes my buttons. Anyway, enough of this. I have it on good authority that the buffet is closing in twenty minutes. I'm off...

Thanks for reading guys. More to come :-)

Double-Booked, Coffee Morning

So here I am, in a coffee place in my hometown, far too early in the morning, casually growling at my fellow customers. The reason I'm here rather than, say, in bed, in the big house in the country I'm currently call home, is that I thought I had a farmer's market today. Because I did. And about 10 minutes away from Chez Harmonica Niall (from whence we would make our cheery disposition-y way to the market), Niall rings me to tell me that Marketman has double booked, and the other guy is there, set up, and ready to go. Bastard's probably a morning person too. Ah well. Best foot forward and all that. My revised plan (Plan 2.0 or ever better; Operation: er... Something) is to sit here for a bit, possibly meet up with a friend who's back from London, then get my abundant behind back West where I belong. Operation: Sneeze-Weasel has a certain ring to it. Yep, I think I'll go with that. Mucho thanks to the guy sitting across from me, who's face inspired the title.

Right, the table beside me just opened up. Now we play Hot Coffee Drinker Lotto. It's an easy game to play, a casual little pass-time that requires no special equipment, skills or hand-eye coordination. You just hope like hell that the person who sits down will be hot, single, friendly, and thoroughly enchanted by your good self. Here we go...

AND THE RESULTS ARE IN! The winner is... some dude with a penchant for moca-frappa-whatever and a scone. Shite! Another thirty seconds and it would have been quirky pretty girl with glasses. Well, thats what happens when you play Hot Coffee Drinker Lotto. Please note that variants can be played on public transport or in public recreational areas. And I have a funny feeling you're reading what I'm typing, Senor Sonny-Jim half-caff. It's early in the morning, I'm cranky and double booked and you should have been a pretty girl with glasses. So take a piece of friendly advice, my friend; jog the fook on.

Well that's sorted then. It's funny, you know. When I occasionally find meself walking around early in the morning with a guitar case (and they always seem to weigh more in the mornings, don't they?) I sometimes get these looks of 'What's one of them doing up so early? They only come out at night.' Believe me, if you find yourself looking at someone of a musical persuasion and thinking this, don't feel ashamed or judgmental. Rather, I applaud your powers of observation. Rest assured the poor sap holding the guitar case is thinking something similar, barring the edition of a string of expletives as long as your *&$%*@£&$% mother-!*$^^%£ arm.

Oooh, pretty girl who's into running just came in. Herr Civilized-Breakfast is still in situ and expecting a friend. Today is not my day. Operation Sneeze-Weasel is off to a bad start. The rush seems to be over, so new customers seem to be thin on the ground. There's probably a coffee joke in there somewhere... ground? Anybody? Fair enough. The new arrivals seem to be a mix of beardy men and couples who insist on maliciously holding hands and looking happy. “Look at us!” their body language exclaims. “At least one of us had sex last night!” Well done. I'm happy for you. Grrr.

I don't think the music is helping my mood. Ordinarily after this much ranting, I should be in a relatively good mood and ready to greet the rest of this suddenly-day off. The music sounds like it's off one of those chill-out albums that were all the rage in the early noughties. For all I know, they might still be making them and I've stopped noticing, but certainly rewind a few years and it seemed that every sunday newspaper was giving them away. New Classic Chill-Out Vol. IX! Made by 90s electro-artists who gave up the coke and decided to drag out the old synth for the larf and to keep young Gabiel and Dandelion in that trendy pre-school all the parents say is Jost Soooo UHmaaaazing!

Right, enough of this foul-moodiness. I'm not normally like this, and despite the woeful cover of Let It Be that just invaded by ears, I refuse to be in a bad mood any longer. Exit stage left Not-in-the-least-bit-happy Rob, enter stage right the nice-but-dim Rob you all know and tolerate. Methinks tis time to toddle. The only problem is that running girl is still here, and occasionally looking over. I know she's into running because it's written on her tshirt. I must admit though, that I'm a little bit paranoid. I have a backpack with me, and I know, deep down in the pit of my soul, that I've been putting my backpack on my back the exact same way since I was seven. The fuller the pack, the more like a seven year old I look. You know what I'm talking about; the slight swivel of the body, the partially constipated look, the little hop at the end and jacket sleeves ending up half way up the arms. And I'll tell you now that my backpack is pretty stuffed at the moment. If she looks over at any time of the course of this long and complex operation (the kind of operation that certainly doesn't deserve a name), my coolness factor will fall quicker than something that falls very fast indeed. And the door to this place doesn't open the whole way, so there's a good chance I'll get stuck. This should be... interesting.

Right, you have have been magically transported to the future! What seemed like a mere paragraph break to you was in fact over an hour for me! Serious Doctor Who stuff going on here. Managed to escape the Tiny Little Door of Death without too much incident. The fact that it's a beautiful day in the city has driven away by bad mood. It would have been the perfect day to play outdoors at a bustling farmer's market, but, in all honesty, it's a perfect day to do absolutely anything. I hope it's this nice wherever you are, dear Reader

Thanks for reading my little rant guys. More to come :-)

Jessica Fletcher, PG, Misc

Here is my open letter to Jessica Fletcher;

Ms Fletcher,

please note that you are NOT invited to my thing. Death follows you like a cat follows a ham sandwich on a string (no prizes for guessing what I got up to today... yep, screwing with the cat's head) and you are not welcome at my house, my gigs, or anywhere else I plan on being. I like all my friends and do not wish for them to die. Those around that need a bit of death, I shall do away with them myself, and I don't need you pottering around solving all my lovely murders. I have enough to worry about with Scooby Doo and his mob. No wonder nobody goes to your conventions!

Yours

Rob F

PS Seriously, lady. Don't come near me. The Dog is trained to kill if she hears even a bar of your theme music.

PPS I hope you're well, I'm a big fan of your show.

I don't know why I started with that. All is know is that it had to be said. Now watch as I effortlessly make it relevant to a music blog...

...er

Ok, I can't. It was bit of surrealist self indulgent exercise that springs from my irrational fear of crime novelists and I apologize for inflicting it on an unsuspecting internetz. Many of you reading this have probably cursed my name, my clan and my firstborn, and have set your computer on fire in disgust. For those of you who are still reading, though, let me reward you with a little morsel of epicness. Or epicality. Whichever of those is a word. Last sunday, after an AMAZING Fast.Like.Fun gig (supporting local soul/funk band Jericho) I met Peter Green! Peter. Green.

“Surely, Rob, you don't mean the legendary British blues-boom guitar player that took Clapton's place in the Bluesbreakers and then went on to form Fleetwood Mac, leaving a legacy of some of the sweetest electric blues known to man or beast?”

“Oh yes, dear Reader, thats exactly who I mean! You're looking well, by the way. Have you lost weight?”

Halfway through the gig, the sound engineer, who knows me as a blues fanatic, approached the stage and told me he was in the building. Despite a lot of looking around (it's quite a sizable venue), I didn't actually spot the man until closing time, when the bouncers were herding people out the door. After waiting to speak to him for ten minutes, I realized I was adding to a bit of a bottle neck in the only exit route out of the building, so joined Easy Keith and a few friends a little close to the door, resigned to the fact that I wouldn't get a chance to talk to the man, but incredibly grateful that I saw him in the flesh. As it happens though, we DID get the chance to say hello as he was passing, and he was incredibly warm and friendly, especially when he found out we were musicians. Handshakes and good natured chest slaps were the order of the day, before he was shepherded in to the now-deserted bar for a drink as the guest of the management.

Having played the venue not two hours previous, Keith and I were welcomed into the back bar too, and after having a drink with the Jericho guys and a bit of shuffling around, we nervously approached Green for a second time, this time for a photograph. The man was delighted to see us still on the premises, and insisted we sit down and join him. And then promptly ordered us to sit back down when we realized we were monopolizing on his time and should probably go. We had a sing-song. On paper, that means I sang with Peter Green. It's not going on the CV, but it happened! Eventually we tore ourselves away and rejoined our friends for another drink. Green and his minders didn't stick around much longer after that, but made a point of coming over, shaking us by the hand and saying goodbye to us before he left, and actually applauded all of us as young musicians, which was really sweet. We in turn applauded him for being Peter Fecking Green as he left, which was, of course, well deserved, him being Peter Green and all that.

Although it's generally not a good idea to meet your heroes, I can say hand on heart that PG (yeah, we're on initial terms) was an absolute pleasure to hang out with. He was engaging, social and funny, which, as many of you may understand, came as a bit of a surprise. Green has, by all accounts, suffered from schizophrenia since the 70s, which has seriously effected his ability to tour and to engage with his fans. According to one of his friends, he was in a particularly good mood that night, so I suppose we're lucky to catch him at a good time. His message to all us young local musicians (and one he repeated several times) was 'Keep playing, keep rocking', which was, coming from him, pretty inspiring stuff. It's certainly one I'll wheel out whenever the going seems a little uphill.

There we are now; Easy Keith from FLF, Peter Green, Me 

Plans for the OHP album are progressing beautifully. We had a lovely jam session featuring some touring blues musicians from France last monday, which I think might be repeated again next week. Even in the last two weeks we've really started to tighten things up for the album. I'll be a-buhlogging about all this in a lot more detail soon.

FLF continue to rock out with our respective clocks out (in that some of us wear watches). The new material went down a storm at the last gig, with more on the way. The next gig will be recorded using state of the art Stuff, which should be interesting. I'll keep you posted on that too. 

All in all, life remains pretty sweet. 

I bet Jessica Fletcher never got to meet PG...

Thanks for reading guys. More to come :-)

Album, writing, zombies

Another great few days in the land of the Rob, dear reader! The weekend consisted of various occurrences of acoustic-bluesing scattered over a hundred mile radius. Guitars were strummed with reckless (and possibly criminal) abandon, harps were blown violently, vocal chords were beaten to within an inch of their lives and feet were stomped to such a degree that I'm convinced I'm half an inch shorter than I was when last I posted. Men drank deeply and roared their approval. Women swooned and danced (a dangerous combination, when you think about it). Love, lust, revenge, a daring protagonist, a Communist plot, aliens, lost treasure, and possibly dinosaurs. The usual stuff, really. The movie's out in 2013, with that guy playing the part of me, and me playing the part of someone else.

One stand-out occurrence during the weekend was one particular gig, about 40 minutes from my home town with Harmonica Niall, under our collective moniker of the Black Mountain Boys. Seeing as how we had a PA to transport, and neither of us having what one might call the ability to pilot one of those newfangled automobiles, we enlisted the help of Poppa V; Fast.Like.Fun's resident miracle man. Screw the musicians, V was the real star of the show in this case. The man did the driving, helped set up the gear, sorted out the lights, soundchecked us, recorded us, filmed us, and took stills. Not only that, but within a day he had polished up over 200 photos and edited five videos, which I shall post in the next week or so with a bit of luck. Needless to say, the man is... well... the man.

The big news this week is that, on tuesday, Badger and I finally set a date for the recording of the One Horse Pony debut album. I'll do a full post on our plans soon, but it's exciting to know that the ball is now rolling on something we've been talking about for over a year. At this stage, the material is written and played to death (of which I'm a massive advocate before even setting foot in a studio), the band has never sounded so good, and we're getting the right people in to give us a hand. If everything goes well, it promises to be a great album. I was thinking of doing a video blog of the run-up and the process itself. Any thoughts?

Partly because of the impending recording, we've also taken the plunge and asked our long-time percussion player in our weekly session to join OHP. Due both to his technical ability, his unique sound and the sheer amount we've been playing together, the brush-wielding nutter affectionately known as the Meerkat will now be joining OHP for gigs. “Why is he called Meercat?” I hear you ask. Seeemples! He habitually sits facing the door in our weekly session. His head shooting up (you guessed it... like a meerkat) as a pretty girl enters the bar is a sight to behold. The constant up and down motion on a busy night, has had me (who sits with my back to the door, and therefore facing Meerkat) coming away with a slight nausea akin to seasickness. The man plays some mean percussion though, so all is forgiven.

The last two days have been busy. Keith from FLF came down yesterday for what turned out to be a seriously productive writing session. True to form, the songs we had both been working on in preparation were promptly shelved in favour of us stumbling across rocking riffs, giggling, then writing lyrics to suit, followed by fist-bumping. Today kicked off with a leisurely breakfast of coffee and growling at things, but really began with some more album talk with Badger and a lovely little acoustic jam. At lunchtime, the rest of the Fast.Like.Fun brigade rolled up in the van for some rehearsal and to hash out the new songs. Loud noises, le chatz about arrangement, more giggling, more fist bumping, all rounded up in true hardrock fashion with tea, cake and custard (thanks Fran). It means that before long, we'll have some more rocking tunes infecting your interweb, so keep an eye on facebook and soundcloud.

I've been spending some of my downtime laying some arboreal smack down in Plants Vs Zombies. Applying the wonderful life lessons I'm learning therein, I have taken to preparing for the zombie apocalypse by putting my drill sergeant hat on and shouting at trees. My brains remain uneaten. Chalkin' that down as a win. Your move, zombies...

More to come real soon, guys. Thanks for reading :-)

R

New Video, National Airplay, General Positivity, Things the French Don't Say

Roses are red, 

violets are blue, 

I'm sorry I haven't blogged for a while,

I was in Peru. 

Ok, thats not entirely accurate. The Peru part might have been a bit of a fib. All the rest is true though. Let me just say that superbly well crafted blog entry (into which much thought and much contemplative bacon sandwich has gone) is on the way. I pinky pwomise! Today calls for a quicky though, given the sheer epic awesomeness of yesterday. Here's what happened, in more or less chronological order. The day started at it usually does, with the sun coming up. The simple beauty, the ancient elegance and that momentary fulfillment that goes along with this incredible celestial changing of the guard was a little lost upon me, given that I was asleep. Soon after that, the birds began their singing in earnest (who wasn't happy about that one little bit) and in general diurnal beasts of fur and feather stretch, yawn, and greet the day. Except for Rob, who was still asleep, probably dreaming about ninjas. The postman arrives. Rob is still asleep. I think we can fast forward a little bit here. At some stage, waking up, coffee and breakfast happened. I pottered around a little bit and then on the bus I gallantly shuffled.

Had a great day of guitar lessons with my lovely little future rock stars. Everyone's coming along nicely and one of them expressed a sincere interest to learn some slide! Happy days. While this was going on, ye olde laptope was in the corner downloading the final cut of Fast.Like.Fun's new video for 'Good Girls With Bad Dreams', sent to me by Poppa V for approval. It looks fantastic! V shtuck it up on youtube and the hits started climbing straight away. Half an hour later, I got word that TODAY FM, which is one of the most popular radio stations in the country had read out our press release, given our details and the show in question was played out by (some of) Like Lovin' You! National airplay, baby! The DJ had been talking about how difficult it is for new bands to get their stuff out there, so V emailed the show detailing the Fast.Like.Fun way of doing things, which is essentially do everything ourselves and give it away for free. The DJ dug it and people text in saying they think we're cool. Yay! Here's the new video 

The video is a compilation of clips from some shows we've played supporting indie heavyweights Senakah, dark & moody rockers That Falling Feeling and, most conspicuously, the (Game of Thrones-themed) 21st birthday party of our friend Francesca. 

So a few great lessons done, new video up, national radio play and a big shout-out delivered and a big smile on my face, I set up to play with One Horse Pony for our weekly session. Which went epically! We all played well, sang well and were joined by some cool cats to help us bring it home. Couldn't ask for more, really...

As I've been typing this, word has reached me that Fast.Like.Fun have been mentioned on a different show on the same station today. Im feeling beaucoup d'elation, as the French would say...

They probably wouldn't say that.

So thats the news guys. I'm totally buzzing on how well the Fast.Like.Fun stuff is doing. For a band that have been together for a matter of months, I think we're doing fantastically. Needless to say, I'll be keeping you posted :-)

In other news, One Horse Pony had a great week recently doing a mini-tour in the most picturesque part of the country. Windswept islands and tiny little seaside villages, romance, drama, intrigue, more booze than you can unsteadily shake a stick at, old friends, new friends, and of course a whole pile of great music were the order of the day. It was one of those weeks that reminds you of how sweet life can be. No doubt about it, I'm a lucky dude.

Thanks for reading, guys. As always, there's more to come :-)

R

Operation: Sandal

So today is the day! Operation: Hit Ground Running And Give It Plenty of Sandal is underway. Fast.Like.Fun have launched an EP made up of 4 tracks, not to mention our two lovely shiny videos, on the world and it's all spreading like a really nice and danceable virus. Or some kind of lovely bacteria. Like L. Casei Immunitas, which seems to be very popular in bacterial circles these days. I wonder what embarrassing first name the 'L' stands for. I'd better not dwell on it too much. Down that particular little thoroughfare, madness lies. Every now and again some complete spanner with too much time on his hands tries to find out what the 'J' stands for in the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, coming up with something perfectly normal and anti-climactic like 'John' after months of mucking about with diaries and old newspaper clippings and a greater insight into old T.S's assorted great great granduncles than Eliot himself...

...ahem...

So anyway, today is the day that we share all the stuff we've been working on for the last few months with the rest of the world. The response has been very positive so far, and we've made a heap of new friends. Exactly one heap. If you're interested, check em out! The videos, not the friends. Both videos AND friends are best viewed in HD...

You can also download all the tracks at soundcloud.com/fastlikefun. This is completely free because I like you (and have done for some time). All we ask is that you get your friends to watch and download too. Because I like them too. So please spread the good word if you get the chance! It all helps, be it on facespace, mybook, titter or whatever.

We of Fast.Like.Fun had two gigs last week, supporting our good friends Senakah on their current tour. Both went very well, and one had us performing for a home crowd, which was particularly rockin'! Easy Keith is coming down to the Ranch in the next few days and we'll polish up some of the new songs we've been working on. Que loud noises and GRRRRGH face!

Everything else is busy busy! The Black Mountain Boys album 'Last Fair Deal' had its first outing last week and proved a big success. It was a lot of fun to make and it sounds great. I'm also starting to hear the mixes of the upcoming One Horse Pony EP 'Far & Wide' and they're sounding pretty dynamite too! In my experience, it can be a total beeee-atch to have two acoustic guitars on a track and for everything to sound hunky-dory rather than hunky-muddy, but Harmonica Niall has done a great job getting Badger and I sounding our best. Kudos and a free donut to him!

In other news, the Dog and I set a new personal best time for our daily 5k run. Being dragged up hills, through hedges, over cows and down rabbit holes never felt so good. I fully intend to make her a part of our next video. If you see a black and white blur zipping by the camera, innocently carrying one of my shoes in its mouth, you'll have a fair idea of what's going on. If that blur is being chased by a pack (pack?) of angry house-proud rabbits, you'll know for sure...

Thanks for reading, guys :-) more to come

R

Oh, there should be one of those dreaded facebook fan boxes for Fast.Like.Fun making an appearance on the right hand side of your screen. Fight the urge to ignore that. ALL the cool kids are 'Liking' things.

Duuuuude! Video!

It's been a while, but I'm back. I brought chocolates...

The other night we had a harp playing friend of ours over at the Ranch. She accompanies the Dame on performance poetry gigs. It's pretty powerful stuff. We had a lovely jam session around the kitchen table until midnight, when we disappeared one by one to bed. By 9.30 the next morning, music, poetry and chats on recording & marketing had begun afresh, the only difference being that it was being done over coffee rather than beer. I love living in a musical house!

So here's the landmark third installment of my buh-lohg! It's been three weeks since my last entry, and it's been a pretty hectic ride. Fast.Like.Fun have been busy. We shot a mofo'in music video! And not just a 'we totally shot a music video with an iphone with hammy acting and that girl I really like playing the love interest so I can increase my chances of getting in her pants' music video. I mean an actual music video with lights and HD cameras and a director and people lifting things and shouting stuff like 'speed!' like they fecking mean it and more blown takes than you can shake a stick at, if that's your idea of a good time. And we didn't do normal things like pick a place to shoot. No, no, no, we Scouted A Location. We probably had a Best Boy and a Key Grip or two about the place too, but I don't know what they are, so I'm not actually sure. All those hours spent practicing film-set jargon in the mirror really helped.

In all seriousness, the video was the brainchild of our esteemed drummer, engineer, producer and coffee maker Poppa V. The concept for the video was his idea, he found (Scouted) the place (Location), and the people who were good enough to help us out on the day were his nearest and dearest. The steady-cam rig the cameraman used? He built that! The man is a genius, and it's only through serious effort on the part of Easy Keith and myself that Poppa V hasn't taken over the world. All the more impressive MacGyver episodes were based on things V does while he's eating his cereal.

At the time of writing, the video is in Post Production (another little gem of a phrase I can now rattle off as naturally as 'bacon sandwich') and will be unleashed onto an unsuspecting internet in the next couple of weeks. Want to guess who's in charge of post production? Yep, its Poppa V. Poppa V; the man who, through the cunning use of Technology, turns this goofy looking pasty-faced Volvo of an overgrown seven year old (thats me) into someone you'd actually consider buying an ice-cream from. Or something... Either way, stay tuned! I expect you all to watch the video at least seven or eight times when it's released.

In case it wasn't obvious, I had better tell you that these early stages of playing the mainstream rock circuit are all a bit of a learning curve for me. In the past, I've either worked with bands that were already well established, or blues bands, which seem to have their own independent circuit. At almost 25 (birthday this saturday, you're all invited!), I'm doing for the first time what most musicians experience in their late teens. That's ok though, right? Right?? Want to buy an ice-cream?

Apart from all that, things are going well. The One Horse Pony EP 'Far & Wide' is being mixed by Harmonica Niall. The Black Mountain Boys (my lovable Americana-spouting, blues-belting, country-clucking, farmer's-market-playing acoustic duo) have recorded a full length album so people can take a little something of us home with them. If they want to. Fast.Like.Fun have a couple of support gigs coming up with Irish indie gods Senakah on their next tour. I love being busy!

Cheers for reading, guys! More to come...

R