Posts Tagged ‘gig’

Music

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

Beardieboy has an ego as fragile as a spring  jonquil. he used to vie for gigs with the opening line ‘Put us on the bill with anyone, we’ll blow them out of the water’. He believed it and generally that’s exactly what they did. A lot of spit, blood and water (and the odd shopping trolley) have passed under the bridge since then and neither of us have performed in any project for six years. Well, that’s not strictly true. We’ve both sung at funerals but let’s not go there.

bearded man plays guitar swearing under his breath at photographer

Beardieboy. Yes, he really does have a beard.

About 11 months ago we decided to have a go at a project together. We settled on the name Less for Murder and started writing songs. We started really well. *started*really well.  Life does its thing and we’ve sputtered along.  The biggest issues has been perfectionism. Beardieboy desperately wants it to be perfect, and who can blame him. Perfection has a high price, to achieve it you usually have to set aside many other things. Having been a single parent for many years though I do recognise that best is perfect when perfect itself is unobtainable. I’ve cajoled, tickled, begged, shouted, begged some more and finally he’s submitted and we’re going to do a short slot at the end of May, it’s not a full gig, it’s not an open mic, it’s somewhere in between.

He’s still very nervous and I don’t want to make a big deal but I’ve very fucking excited indeed. I haven’t sung a song of my own in front of a crowd of people since I was 5 months pregnant with this.

a small child with a unique sense of style

She chose all her own clothes. Honest.

We haven’t had any photos taken, still have a list of songs as long as your arm to work on and I still can’t tie him down to recording anything, but that’ll come in time. He’s more amazing than he knows. Me, I know how bloody fabulous I am 🙂

Beardieboy

Sunday, March 7th, 2010

Beardieboy, quite remarkably, has given me my second posting topic, the first being utterly pointless (the second may well follow suit).

I’ve been feeling crap today, which is obvious really, after all I’ve been perfectly well all week in my tedious job so why on earth would I be given the pleasure of enjoying the weekend that I’d looked forward to. Our friend has organised a memorial gig for her late boyfriend, our mate Neil, who was a remarkable but troubled musician. We’ve looked forward to the gig for a number of weeks so it’s only right that I should be ill and miss it, after all, that is the way of the world.

Beardieboy took off looking like he was going to a gig and happily he managed to suppress his excitement tourettes.  This tourettes involves saying and doing things best left in his head, out loud, at the most inappropriate times. When I first met him, he lifted my top up in front of his dad. You get the drift…anyway, he managed to say nothing inappropriate like, ‘I hope you have a good evening’, or ‘Have you finished that job application yet?’  Before he went he did say the obligatory, ‘I won’t be back late…’

Well, it’s gone midnight and I’ve just had THAT phonecall. The one where he pretends he’s sober and the more he tries not to,  the more inapproriate he becomes.

Beardieboy: How are you?

Me: I’m ok, I’ve still got a headache

Beardieboy: I’ll come home soon and get you drinks and junk food

Me: Is that what I am? A lazy junk food eater? (look, I am ok! But that’s not the point)

Beardieboy: Noooo, don’t say that, ooh I knew I’d say the wrong thing, does this mean my treats will be floppy now?

Me: Floppy? Pardon? Floppy?

Beardieboy: Sex, you know? Floppy!

Me: Is your brother standing next to you?

Beardieboy: You’re not going to write this on Twitter are you?

Me: Nooooo, of course not….