The May Day Tour!

The good old days...

I am perhaps a little premature in concluding our recent months activities before they've finished, but I am confident I can predict the 9th and final gig that takes place tomorrow evening in Dartington Hall. Gilly and Warren's wedding; old friend's of ours, tying the knot in a 12th century monastery and requesting not The Odd Folk, no no, they're of an older school than that, having instead plumbed for The Sam Brookes Quartet, our previous guise that consisted of myself, the guitar player and the piano player!
The bass? played on a keyboard. The drums? Played with my feet. It's how we rolled for a good few years before the album's launch and the name-change. Simpler? Certainly. Better? Some will say!

Anyhow, enough of that, let us conclude our busiest month to date, The May Day Tour, that took us over a 1000 miles, zigzagging across the south of mainland Britain. As you know we began in Wales, at The Oak in the market town of Welshpool. A fairly restrained crowd, save for the blind man and the drunk lady, both of whom loved it and paid for CD's even though we'd forgotten them! They effectively bought them on blind faith! The Latest Music Bar in Brighton was a disaster, a badly organised and advertised gig that cost us dear. Still the guitar player says the lamb burger and chocolate brownie he bought at 2am were the best he's ever had, so I guess that's something. The next day at The Gladstone in London we played one of our best sets musically, and with a great and attentive crowd it was a welcome return to form! Next up was a dive into the great unknown, Prema Arts Centre in the little village of Uley where we knew not a soul and were totally reliant on the venue providing a crowd. Of which it did, a rather middle aged and middle class one, but a beautiful one at that and with 18 CD sales after the gig, it broke a record on flogging merchandise!

"rosy and ruddy with drunkenness!"

Then came the homecoming; four gigs in two days back in the loving sleeves of home. We played an acoustic set for the grand opening of The Knut in St. Just followed by an evening slot at Don't Wake The Fish, a spring ale festival at our second home, The Gurnards Head. This latter was a rip-roaring, ale-drenched shin-dig and one of the better one's of late; a reminder of the good old days, back firmly in our comfort zone; a nice marquee in a field surrounded by good folk and lots of dancing! After we wrapped the five of us stayed on tasting the array of ales on offer and, rosy and ruddy with drunkenness we bonded, giggling into the shoulder of the night and howling up at the pale moon! We danced to the band that followed, The Sandy Acre 7, and then accepted a wedding gig from a drunk fan, sold 4 CD's off the cuff and slept where we fell.

With wholesome hangovers, the next day's giggles were hard work indeed.
The Pirates on the Prom event that started that afternoon and stretched out till the following night, began as a wash-out. Four songs into our gig in The Spingo Tent and the rain had found it's way in. We were playing in a puddle! Despite the audience helping to lift our gear onto chocks and out of the water, the atmosphere was damp and we abandoned ship before our allotted time. That night we did the opposite as we slipped over to St. Ives for Sven's Wedding, playing an extra half hour as his eager guests demanded! Raucous encore's of "More and More!" and they were a rowdy bunch too; there were moments when we thought they might turn on us when we eventually stopped! They might barricade the door and "encore" us to death! The following day was the actual pirate world record and though we didn't have a gig our hometown demanded our attendance, and even though our body's and soul's had been through the grind, we took one for the town! Dressed as pirates we swayed through the day in all our tom-foolery; but despite our best efforts, Penzance fell 77 short of the record!  

Three days later and we're finally back The Odd Folk HQ, I've been making Elderflower Champagne and I'm only just feeling normal. It's been a long old tour, with heightened highs and languid lows. We've played to 100's; furious dancers and attentive listeners, packed marquees and empty near halls. We managed to pay debts with CD sales even if we've struggled financially as a band. We showcased our new banner, conquered middle-england, lost piano stands, sold albums on blind faith and found out the drummer's a cage fighter! Now if that last point isn't a trump-card for the future then I don't know what is! Forget the new openings our bass-playing boxer can get us, like bullying Mr. Blagwoofer to let us play at this year's FigFestival, Cage Fighting is a much darker art and takes bigger victims. I reckon we can now rest assured we'll be headlining Glastonbury for the next decade! Happy days...

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