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

Oh, it's in my mouth...

Plectrums, man; they're the bane of my life. Well thats pushing it a wee bit too far maybe. I go through a ton of them, I know that much. For anyone who doesn't know, plectrums (picks, to my American cousins) are little rounded triangles, usually made of... er... stuff... that we guitar players use to SMITE the strings. With Amazing Effect! And Blistering Speed! Zoom! Pretty straight-forward, right? Wrong!

There are two little flies in this plectrum-scented ointment. Fly the first; there are tens of thousands of different kinds of plectrums out there, which gives guitar players a big old double helping of choice. And we don't Do choice. Fly the second is that plectrums are physically small and insignificant. Which means I lose them by the hundred...

So yeah, the whole choice thang. That old chestnut. Different materials, different shapes, different colors, thicknesses, grips, brands. And then there's the fact that several of our heroes have their own signature picks! Like everything else in guitar playing, the debate over the best one has forums dedicated to it, and fanatics in every camp. All this leads to the common sight of a guitar player huddled in the fetal position in front of the pick display case of your local music shop, hugging their knees and mumbling something incoherent about 'tortex'. We've all seen it. It probably has a name. If it doesn't, I'd like to propose 'Rob's Syndrome', cos I've always wanted a psychiatric condition named after me.

I have to admit though, I'm a victim of pick-inspired eccentricity myself. I think I have early onset Rob's Syndrome. What delicious irony! I've been using a certain pick consistently for the last two years (the Dunlop Nylon Standard Max-Grip 1.14mm, in case you're wondering), but, on the advice of a friend, I've started using the famous Dunlop Jazz III. Small, thick, red, and nigh-on impossible to hold, I'm happy to report I'm getting used to them. Yay! One more tiny facet of guitar playing in which my snobbery has increased! But read on...

The only reason I mention any of this is that the time is once again coming around when the members of One Horse Pony compile a huge list of all the tiny day-to-day things we need and order the lot off thomann.de in Germany, making a huge saving in comparison to shopping at our local music shop, and then spend the savings on mindless shite we don't need. I am ordering TEN types of pick! Not ten picks, you understand. Multi-packs of ten different types! There was just far too much choice; I couldn't help myself! SEVEN of those are variations of the Dunlop Jazz III. What the hell is wrong with me? My only partial excuse (but in all honesty, it ain't a bad excuse) is that one of the variants is made of carbon fiber. You have to admit, thats pretty cool.


I'd imagine its probably the plectrum Batman would use if he played guitar.
Now that I come to think of it, he probably does.

Bottom line, guitar players don't respond well to choice, and if you come across a full blown case of Rob's Syndrome, the important thing is to keep the victim warm, well hydrated, and away from online music shops.

The second fly in this longwinded fly-in-ointment metaphor is the fact that your average plec is a small and easily misplaced little gadget. To illustrate that, here's a true story. With some time to kill one day, I took one of those time-killing wanders into my favorite guitar shop (favorite because the owner gives me a trade discount).
“Hi Bill!”
“Hi Rob!”
After some shop talk and a bit of a mooch around the store, I took my leave, but not before buying five plectrums. This was the last thing I did before leaving the shop. Paid for my picks, and out the door I boldly hopped. By the time I entered the outside world, I had four plecs left. Between the door and the counter (which was Next To The Door!) I had lost 20% of the plectrums I had purchased. This is not an isolated incident. They just disappear! They resent their captivity and the yoke of my dominion, and therefore make a concerted effort to break free at every turn. This would probably make a good film. In fact, I've heard The Great Escape was originally about plectrums. The whole WWII angle was added later. And I'm pretty sure the hole that has appeared in the designated plec pocket in my favorite pair of jeans is the result of digging. Distinct shovel marks can be made out. However, this subversive plectrum activity gives me an excuse for further plectrum shopping. Which I'm not-so-secretly delighted about.

In the spirit of full and frank disclosure, one last word about the Dunlop Jazz III's. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm not the guy that tried the specialized and unwieldy plectrum that some of his heros use and realized it happens to suit him perfectly. I'm the idiot that has put time and effort into practicing with a specialized and unwieldy plectrum until it happens to kinda suit me, just so I can tell people that I use a specialized and unwieldy plectrum. It's probably due to Rob's Syndrome...

Oh yeah, the title is a reference to the common problem of losing the plec i had in my hand TWO SECONDS AGO! After frantic searching, I invariable realise I've put it in my mouth for safe keeping. We all do this. I'm not the only one.

Thanks for reading, guys. More to come
R