I am the piano player

Hello there, it’s me… the piano player. I do apologise for taking so long to write in, but then again, I’ve never been that punctual. So at least I am being true to my nature in being consistently unpunctual, in fact I actually won a disposable camera for holding the record of late attendance for class to which I was honestly late to collect. Right, let’s move on, shall we? So we have established that I am in fact the piano player and that I’m usually late. The rest of the blanks have been filled in by my fellow bandmate the odd blog king himself, Morgan Val Baker, and I am slightly embarrassed to admit that mostly all of what he says about me is indeed true.

Me, forgetful, well I guess… I suppose... what were we talking about again? Ok, yes, it’s all true. I’ve lost lyrics, forgotten melodies, lost my voice, my clothes, my shoes, and of course, my piano leads! Actually, I wrote a song about that, not to mention leaving Morgan’s chainsaw on a train, yes, yes, yes, it’s all true I confess! It’s amazing I haven’t been fired yet. Or maybe I was, and just forgot! It’s at this point that I would just like to thank my band for putting up with me and my chaotic snail trail of lost belongings. But I’d just like to point out that I have actually remembered to turn up to nearly 200 gigs now.

I guess my life with music all started by banging a bongo from the age of two, then I worked my way up to school tables until eventually I got a real life big boy’s drum kit. After a few lessons from my aunty Demelza I decided to embark on a passionate affair

with music. It wasn’t long before I fell in love with the guitar, after years of watching my Dad I finally plucked up the courage to do so myself. Then came the piano and one day even a little voice sprouted from the depths of me; my inner musician took hold and demanded that I fed it. I even started jamming with others and in amongst them were future odd folker Oscar Bloomfield-Crowe, aka The Bass Player. We formed a band called Universal Groove and even played at Laforwda Day, something The Odd Folk still haven’t managed to do! I actually didn’t play any instruments in the band, I was too shy, it was just me, myself and my little voice which turned out to be quite big when I closed my eyes. This was my first experience playing in front of a crowd. It was terrifying but fun. After a few years and a few different lineups we got bored and drifted apart. My musical life didn’t really start again until I got a call that would change my life forever… 

"Hey Shell, me and Sam Brookes are starting a band, and we need a piano player, you keen?"

"Sure" I said, a little too excitedly.
"Now, remember” said Morgan - backtracking slightly - "this is just a try out, do you understand?" So we met up and made some music and I guess I passed the test. Or if I didn't I forgot and stayed anyway. I was in. Into what I wasn’t sure. We didn’t have a name or any particularly style. But I knew I liked to be a part of it. Eventually we settled on a name, being a three piece, we felt it made perfect sense to go by the name The Sam Brookes Quartet, a

The Sam Brookes Quartet

natural fit, I’m sure you’d agree. The Sailing Song was the first to jump out of the bag, then quickly followed by a slightly awkward Franz Kafka, and of course Whisky Drunk. “Four more tunes and we will be gig worthy!”, Morg said - and so it was. He was on a roll hurtling us down the hill towards our first gig at The Acorn Theatre in Penzance. A baptism of fire if ever there was one. After a nervous start, eventually I found my feet, then followed by my legs, head, and the words to the songs. Slowly but surely we were sounding like a real band. It was ramshackle but with the raw passion that seemed to tickle audiences in the right way. Before we knew it, the gigs came rolling in, and with that, new songs came – up stepped Strangled Cat - my first lead vocal; a cross between medieval folk and a cat being strangled. Unfortunately he didn’t last long, rumour has it he lost his voice trying to hit those high notes. Kayleigh Jane soon followed, came stomping into the scene in her Celtic boots, violin in hand demanding everybody dance. And they did in those wild old days. Finally I found my own song, it came Tumbling Down the mountainside, landing just in time to make the cut on our first album, The Sweet Release.

Anyway, I could end up going through every song at this rate; I must conclude my blog before I run out of words. And where better to conclude than where we are right now, having returned from our favourite festival called Fire in the Mountain. This stunning location in the heart of the hills trembled in anticipation of the imminent onslaught of 2000 hillbilly hippies all playing violin at once, or so it sounded at times. It’s predominantly a bluegrass festival but it also has strong folk roots and a sweet world music smell to the air. As we seemed to harbour all three styles I guess we were the perfect fit. It was our third year in a row, and it certainly wasn’t without its hiccups. First of all we had to assemble a makeshift band, out of spare parts that we achieved with the return of Mr. multi instrumentalist and music connoisseur Pat Moran on the bass and Mr. Brookes was back. That’s right, Brookes, not Sam, alas he is somewhere in Bristol drowning in a pile of babies. Instead he kindly lent us his equally charming cousin Aaron to try and find those sweet notes. We met Morgan in Bristol to the tale of a broken down van and lost wonderings in the dark. Not to mention his team had lost 4-1 in their only chance of silverware. He was grumpy and it was a bumpy start. We set sail to Wales, only for our sail to catch in a buckle of a blundering mechanic, giving us the chance to relive Morgan’s previous night of endless calls to the RAC as we sat on the sidewalk and twiddled our thumbs. "What do you mean you can’t get us a van? We have a gig in 5 hours!" I heard Morgan politely shout from across the street. Basically, a long story short, we ended up being lent two cars by a kind garage man who took pity on us putting the RAC well and truly to shame. We arrived safely alongside our fellow hillbilly brothers and sisters to the sound of violins, so many violins, until I was sure there was a tiny Welshman playing violin on my head. On the day of our gig we assembled at the stage, me arriving conveniently late to the realisation that all our instruments had been set up as if by magic! "Nice one guys, and sorry I’m late and how about an energy ball to make up for it!?" They all accepted and united through the balls, energy flowing through our veins, we bounded onto the stage to the result of a couple of people shuffling about nervously. Not to be undone we ploughed on as passionately as ever, and with each song we seduced more and more until we had a handsome crowd to be proud of. We sang, we sweated, we danced, the crowd danced, fuelled on by the music and the festival dreams, and at the end of many laughs and miles walked and stories talked, we left in our fleet of borrowed cars. And here we are now, back to the world outside the band, back to market stalls and theatre work and I can’t really remember what my bandmates actually do!?

Anyway I’ve run out of words and not for the first time ;)

cheeeeeeeers n Gone !!! (as they say in Cornwall) Xx

The Others

I’ve long asked my band mates to contribute to this site, provide a new prospective, a fresh look at 'How NOT to be in a Band'. And despite their eagerness to get involved, at the end of each month there is never any material sent in for me to upload. And so once again I write another one-sided account of what we’re all doing, what’s gone wrong and what’s in the pipeline. And this month is no different. The piano player had promised to write this one and indeed has written it but I still haven't received it so until that day you're left

with me. But it would be interesting to hear their voices, see things through their eyes, perhaps as much for me as for you, our devoted readers. It is no secret that this platform is more successful than the band itself, the readership here far outstrips those that have seen us play, indeed if you rounded up all the people that have ever watched us live I’m not sure it would even come close to the reach of these words, in this digital age of instant sharing and followers in all corners of the globe.

It has certainly got me thinking. What is it like to be the piano player? To live in the middle of nowhere without a car and constantly a slave to the favour? He’s perhaps much maligned on this site and definitely the scapegoat, but is it fair? And am I fair? Or am I a dictator? I know I work very hard to keep this vehicle moving and I've often wondered what would happen if I just stopped? Would we stop or would the others step up? Perhaps I am the one constantly steering this ship because I don't let anyone else into the driving seat? Perhaps the piano player would eventually start booking us gigs in far flung places that are impossible to get to. And maybe they would propel us to future stardom?

And what’s it like being the drummer? Why does he try and leave the band every 33 gigs? He’s one shy of 100 now does that means he’s planning on walking away for a third time? And the bass player, does he know how important he is and that without his encouragement over the last few years I’d have chucked this in? How does he feel about Pat Moran coming in on the last tour and us replacing the ‘irreplaceable’ without much fuss? And the accordion player; he’s done 50 gigs now but is he even in the band? And what about the guitar player, who’s managed just 3 gigs in the last 2 years, doesn’t he miss it? Taking live music out of a musician’s life is like taking jam out of a doughnut. Is he satisfied? I know I wouldn’t be. 

But mostly I want to read something new; I want to see the achievements and failures through their eyes, I want all of them to have a say and what a rich tapestry of contradiction we’d have in front of us then! People have such different views of things; sometimes I come off stage and I feel deflated and yet my band mates are buzzing from a “great gig!”. Sometimes a certain song has left half of us elated and the other half think it’s fallen on its face. Is Whisky Drunk a crowd favourite and therefore un’droppable or is it overplayed and holding us back from making anything new? That can be said for half our material. When it comes to set-lists it’s always a case of “Oh we can’t not play that!” which means there is never any space for anything else.

We actually managed to crowbar open the set list on our latest 'giggle' and shoehorn in a brand new song; an unfinished idea we had been carrying around for a whole year and finally found an hour to finish it. And it went down well, some may say it was the pierce de resistance, it certainly drew the biggest cheers but perhaps that's because you are desperate to hear new songs too! It was a boisterous affair, our first hometown gig of the year, and full of smiley happy people. It was the drummer's 99th outing as well, and hat's off to him for driving all the way down and playing for no money, because I had forgotten to tell him otherwise. Perhaps one day he will write a blog too and I'll find our what it's like to be told hours before you set off that we don't have any money left to pay you! But he's used to it; 100 gigs and you've seen the best and worst of us. Or maybe it's mishaps like that that make him want to leave!?

There are a lot of unanswered questions flying about and I'm struggling to answer them all. It’s our decade next year. What do we want? A brand new sound or a nice easy coda? Will we ever get our music on spotify? A third album? A final film? And what's all this about touring in America? Another decade? We’re at a crossroads and there’s a lot of lose ends to tie together and perhaps by hearing from ‘the others’ it might just help us shed light on them. 

So, the next voice you hear from will be…?