Too tense for trousers.

13 gigs in the bag for us. They have been a varied mix of fun, frustration and the fog of war. Now, as promised, we are going to have a few weeks of rehearsal and recording in preparation for kicking off again in late June.

Here are some things for you to expect:

1. 3 singles, each backed by a pair of B-sides.
2. 1 album.
3. 1 drummer.

So that’s 12ish new recordings and 33.33% more Mashemon. That’s really not bad. More than I’ve ever got from my subscription to Fence and Hedge Aficionado, the bi-annual publication for the discerning boundary enthusiast.

Our two May gigs were very enjoyable. Both were in support of the Smiles For Japan event and hopefully we entertained the people who turned up in support. The Thursday gig was a hoot, good sound for us to play with and nice people. The Saturday gig was a more considered and restrained event since it was early evening, we were playing our quiet set and I had not exchanged much of my blood for fizzy attitude adjuster, although I made up for that afterwards…..

Playing the quiet set for a second time was alright, but given the amount of noise we have been making of late I think it is safe to say it will be going back in the box for a little while.

It was obvious that a lot of time and effort had gone into the Smiles for Japan fundraising, and we felt proud to be a part of it and give some support. Thank you Seba for asking us along. I particularly enjoyed the man in the Dolphin suit. A triumph.

Finally I would like to say thank you to the nice woman who felt compelled to curtsy to me when we were introduced on Saturday before the gig. I like to think it was on account of my good posture and regal demeanour. Or maybe I look like the Queen. Don’t know. Carry on!

Crackity crackity snappity snappity

That’s it for April then. It was a busy old month. We played 5 gigs, of varying quality, drank more beer than was probably good for us, were subjected to some prolonged interpretive dancing and carried a lot of heavy things up and down several flights of stairs over and over again.

Our final gig of the month at the Bad Format was a hazy affair and very enjoyable to boot. Frank made us feel very welcome and was a superb host. Thanks to the Mashemon faithful for sticking it out until the bitter end and a special commendation goes to Paul for his tireless shape-throwing. Relentless.

We’ve finished two recordings – Curtains and the Texas Sex Club Mix of Dead Dog and I am currently fiddling around with finishing a third – Wear and Replace. We’ve introduced two new songs into the set – Frank Bloke and Guts - and performed our first “quiet” gig in the FACT, which was one of the highlights of the month for me. I have also purchased my first roll of gaffer tape.

You would think that we would be taking it easy after that, but you would be wrong. Last night the two headed creature that waded out of the Mersey two-ish years ago began to grow an extra head. With a beard on it. And drumsticks in its teeth. We have two more gigs in May, playing for the excellent Smiles for Japan event that is being organised by Seba Rashii and associates and then we will be wrapping ourselves in a silky cocoon until the metamorphosis is complete.

Exciting times for us then. All we have to do now is find some places to play in the second half of the year and everything will be fine and dandy. Suggestions and invitations gladly accepted.

I have belonged to all manner of hysterical curators

Four gigs go by and I return.

April has turned all busy. Since the gig in the Laugh Inn we have played at the Bumper in Liverpool, Gallery 2 at FACT for the Nerve Centre’s Insurrection and the Shakespeare in Southport. I know Dylan will probably have done as many, if not more, but I think that’s not bad going.

The Laugh Inn was good, nice venue, friendly staff and a good sound man. Thanks Daniel. We got to use their gigantic glitter ball, which lent us a glamorous air. Whilst the venue was nearly empty the only people I know in Chester came to see us, which was good of them. Thank you Kim and Andrew. I seem to recall one of Andrew’s friends telling me something important about the wiring in the place, but I can’t remember what it was. Something about danger.

Our return trip to the Bumper was challenging. For one it smells of stale beer. There were some problems with the sound, I had a little too much to drink and our playing was sub-par. That said we were the only ones who brought any people, thanks to everyone who came along, it brought a tear to my eye. Afterwards I went and drank tequila until an ungodly hour. That brought a little sick to the back of my throat.

Next up was the FACT, which made up for everything. We put together a quieter set for this one, played a new song, turned everything down and had a good time. We even did an encore, our first ever I believe, which goes to show how much we enjoyed ourselves. Special mention to Alan for an outstanding t-shirt and some quality heckling. And to Paul. He knows what he did.

What's Burt looking at?
 Dunno, could be girls.

Finally last Thursday we had a last minute appointment at the Shakespeare in Southport. This is Dan’s (who used to run the gigs at the Herald before it was sold) current base of operations. It was a good venue and sound, and we managed to get the stage area completely dark, which made the visuals look great. Unfortunately the darkness did lead to some “jazz” moments from me, but I don’t think anyone noticed. The Southport faithful came along, which was very good of them. Easy on the eye as well, which is nice.

That’s the past and that is gone. Onwards to the future. On Sunday we are in the Avenue pub in Leigh. The show starts at 20.00 so if you are in range haul your carcass along. We’ve got a 45 minute slot so we’ll be sticking in some extras. Not sure quite what though.

The Badformat on Friday the 29th will round off April and then we are into May. So far we have only two dates booked – two gigs in support of Seba Rashii’s fund raising for Japan. I’ll post details of those up nearer the time.

After May we will be going dark for a while I think. We have some things in the pipeline which we will hopefully be unleashing at the end of July, ish. And a lot of recording to get done. Watch this space, unless you’re driving in which case keep your eyes on the road and your hands where I can see them.

Always buying the wrong car

We are out on the road again next week for a couple of gigs. On Tuesday we are off to Chester to support an electronic duo called Schmoo at the Laugh Inn. The comedian Rob Deering was at the Laugh Inn a few weeks back. I heckled him on a drunken night out in Brighton. I also heckled Jim Rosthental’s son that night. It was not the best night ever. The morning after was worse.

Moving swiftly on.

I don’t know what to expect from the Laugh Inn. In my mind all I can see is a series of tables surrounded by polite middle class families, like a matinee performance at Butlins. I’m pretty certain it won’t be like that. Although if it is I’m sure the assembled middle class families will enjoy our new tune Frank Bloke. As your old school comedian might say “it’s a bit blue”. Not Blue as in “Duncan from Blue looked at me and I think he fancies me”. But blue as in “encore de le smut sil vous plait.”

That’s Tuesday. On Friday we are going to be supporting another electronic duo, these ones being called Sister Gracie, at the Bumper in Liverpool. I see a pattern forming. We are being pared up with electronic duos, like pandas in the zoo. Maybe these promoters would like us to mate and breed. I’m not sure it would work, the biology wouldn’t have it. No babies, just spunky colons.

Is “spunky colon” going too far? We’re all friends here, I’m sure you won’t be offended. And if you are it’s your own fault.

I can’t really remember what it was I disliked about Jim Rosthental’s son. Hang on, yes, it’s coming to me. He wasn’t very funny. There you go. Apparently he’s doing a sit-com on Channel 4 soon. Good for him.

 



They said "Get Courtney" 
Which one, Walsh?

I’m writing a sit-com at the moment actually. It’s called Bucket. There will be a cast of four main characters. One will be zany, one will be thick but lovable, one will be witty and urbane and the main character will be a universal everyman, like Kirk in Star Trek or Hannibal Lector. The women will all have nice boobs and the men will have tight bums and firm jaws and they will all have amazing hair. It will be set in Manhattan and they will each have swanky apartments and jobs which they never seem to go to. The series will revolve around their amazing friendship which came about when they all met at a meth and sex orgy where they bludgeoned a blind orphan to death and fed the corpse to swine. 

 

I think I will call episode 72 “The one with the spunky colon”. It’ll be hilarious, grimly hilarious.







 

If you love your neighbours lift your weights in the nude



The buzz lasted for about 2 days. Now it is gone and I need another dose. Saturday night at the Herald in Southport was great. I was genuinely pleased with what we did and how well it all went. Need to get the suit cleaned though because it was a sweaty one.



Iron Age bubble, found in
Budleigh Salterton last Thursday



We shared the evening with two other bands. First up were Ratty Little Fingers, who were very enjoyable and folksy. I felt a bit sorry for the banjo player who had to stand at the business end of a bubble machine. It did occur to be that if you had a grudge against someone making them stand at the business end of a bubble machine would be a reasonably passive aggressive application of your grudge. Pissing in the bubble machine first would elevate this, but I’m not sure where to. I am sure there is a word or phrase for it somewhere in the world, possibly in a culture that is more urine centric.

The Star Turn of the evening was Vision Thing who were excellent and anthemic and majestic. Their drummer, Matt, has now recovered from a fractured back which I hear he received in a no holds barred mixed martial arts death match somewhere in the Devonshire countryside. Rumour has it that he owns a necklace of human ears, trophies from his previous bouts. I would ask but I need my ears to tuck my hair behind when I am trying to eat.

Now I have to wait a whole 3 and a bit days until the next one, which is in Manchester. I don’t know what to expect but I am sure we will have a grand old time. The night is organised by a band called Floone. I imagine a Floone is some kind of technical term in the steel-making industry, or maybe textiles. Something along the lines of:

“Eee lad, watch thou face on’t floone, it’ll take ee nose clean off. Thun yule haff to go hoom with it in tut hankercheef fur tut muther to sew back t’ont face.”

I’m not saying it definitely is; only that it probably definitely is. I can’t think of a more plausible explanation. I will ask and then let you know because that's what I do.

In other news you may have noticed that we have a new song on youtube called Curtains. If you listen to it and like it why not leave a comment? In fact, you could leave a comment here or there. Or even on the wall of a public toilet, if you can find one.

I think that's about it so I'll stop. My knee hurts and I don't know why.

I thanked the hatamoto for letting me leave with my nose

A week went past without a gig. Everyone else in the world seemed to have a gig, but we did not. This is an unhelpful thought. Unhelpful thoughts occur to everybody, arriving unbidden and hanging around like odious lodgers who default on their rent before leaving in the night with your wife and goldfish.

This unhelpful thought is compounded by the fact that I believe the hype about emails, I believe it in the same manner that some people believe in God, at an emotional, visceral and impossibly irrational level. Emails are fast, so that means replies will be fast, so that means if I send someone an email there is no reason why I should have to wait any time whatsoever for a reply because the rest of the world is just sat waiting to reply to ME. This is quite evidently the thought process of a lunatic.

Consequently when I send off an email to someone who is looking for bands to play at their venue I enter a shameful spiral of constant inbox checking and growing anxiety. It becomes an unnatural preoccupation. Some people do reply quickly, setting the bar for everyone else. Some people never reply at all, which is not good. Strangely enough very few people fall in the middle of these extremes.

It’s the lack of reply which is the worst bit. It would be easy to just shrug it off and go “hey, relax, them’s the breaks” and so forth. Unfortunately I have not perfected my shrug yet. Instead my intestines seem to slowly wrap themselves around my lungs, getting tighter with every passing day without a reply until, when a critical pressure is reached, the black bubble of impatience bursts and I roar, usually in Mike’s car on the way to rehearsal “Fuck them. Fuck them in the ear!”

Waiting whilst being manly

You see, it isn’t the rejection that hurts. Rejection is tolerable. Never getting a response is akin to having no voice, to simply being ignored. Of course there are many reasons why a response may not be forthcoming, mostly mundane and administrative in nature. That’s why you deploy the follow-up email strategy. To have your follow-up email disappear into the void is harrowing.

The wounds heal of course, but like the rejection of a lover or the death of a pet, they never really go away. Sometimes I wake up screaming or I will be found checking my inbox in my sleep. At times like these I have asked my nurse that I be restrained and sedated. It is for my own good I reason. One day I awoke to find that I had daubed “Good Manners Cost Nothing” in foot high letters of excrement across the dining room walls. Another time I challenged a promoter to a duel to the death with pistols at dawn. The bounder never showed though. It is with sadness then that I must conclude that whilst I am indeed quite mad, it is the moral decay of the nation which has made it so. God Save the Queen.

Mighty Agrippa, Roman God of the Aqueduct!

Yes, I had a haircut. I had my hair cut whilst watching the Italians almost beating the Irish. I had my hair cut because it was too long and I kept getting it in my mouth, or my dinner, or both. Utterly ridiculous.

Later that day we had a gig in the Shipping Forecast. I think we played a blinder. After months of creaky vocal performances I actually managed to do a proper one, without wheezing or croaking much at all. I even did a bit of showing off, not that anyone would have noticed. I didn’t do a Christina Aguilera. Well, I did in as much as I got some words wrong, but not in the overblown melodic mangling way.

So we played a good gig, but not to many people. Most of the people were elsewhere doing something important and vital I suspect, rather than listening to us although the ones who did listen to us were much appreciated. Whatever it was they were doing some of them had evidently finished it by the time the Speed Pets went on and the rest of them finished after that in time to catch the headliners Rialto Burns. I didn’t ponder this at length or out loud to anyone stood nearby whether they were interested or not. If you happened to have thought I was then that was an imposter.

Jupoopitar yesterday

After that we went and ate some chips. Or maybe we had a drink. I’m not completely sure which one came first. I do know that someone had lethal wind and it wasn’t me. And I do remember stating that everything we do is pointless when considered on an interplanetary scale, and there was something about the music of the spheres or something along those lines.

I thought of a new name for Jupiter. Made me laugh. Shut up.

Oh yes, and we decided that we are going to do a series of open air gigs at random locations of interest which we may or may not tell anyone about. I’m not sure where we got up to with that or whether it came before the chips or after the chips or what. Mike did not dance though. And someone used the phrase “a different set of boobs every day”. I have tried to uncover the meaning of this but so far it has eluded me. Send your answers on the back of sock to the usual address.

Now go boil your head.