Richard Milligan

A friend of ours suggested that the gap between blogs was too wide, so i wrestled some time and here lies a 2nd blog within a fortnight. This one's for you, Richard Milligan - photo, title and all! Richard Milligan is the name of our artist. Now you're probably thinking, 'wow, you guys are really odd, your artist is a panda!' Sadly, no, this is the sole photo I have of Richimaru Millizaki, or Tricky Animator as he's also known. 
And he's not just our artist either, a more fitting title would be... 'art.manager/web.help/general.help/quick.help.we.need.this.bloody.wire.asap!'
He does so much more than artwork; he uploads and downloads, rushes about at our beck and call, lends us drums, pedals, wires, cameras, gins, tonics, he films us, he edits us, he offers enormous support for very little in return and for a while was our most constant fan! Sadly, as we've been lucky enough to explore the UK a little more, his presence has depleted, understandably. He only comes to the cornish giggles. Actually sometimes he even misses them! He strolled up to me outside The Acorn at the Steve Tilston gig and asked me what time we started. We had just finished! So perhaps he's not our most constant fan after all. Perhaps he's actually sick of us? or perhaps he's actually a panda!?

Since the last blog; the end of the tour; we pulled ourselves together and managed to organise a rehearsal, and upon completion deemed ourselves ready to showcase our talents to a manager in London. We drove into the capital mere hours before Hurricane Jude was due to hit the west of England, failing to think about the consequences of driving back headlong into the storm! The gig was a disaster; the booker had changed our time so often that nobody knew what was going on. We'd planned around the info in the last email, with a start time of 8pm but at 7.30 we were bundled on stage despite our best efforts, minus our bass player and with the manager not due to arrive for half an hour! We partook in some fantastical procrastinations (try saying that really fast!); we dilly'd and we dally'd, the bass player turned up as did the manager and we began. But after only three songs we were told 'one more!' much to our disbelief; indeed it tipped us over the edge and we let our frustrations bubble out of the microphones. We'd driven all the way from Bristol to play 4 songs for no money! We finished up, apologised to our baffled fans but the manager was nowhere to be seen, he'd slipped out into the rain. We made it home, the drummer drove us in his smart black car, though inside we were crammed tight like sardines; myself and the piano player literally in each others arms in a single seat! The storm raged and the rain lashed down, drops the size of golf balls, drumming on the windscreen. The drummer stared staunchly ahead, the guitar player in the passenger seat keeping up the small talk while the piano player and I cuddled in the back.

Fearing we'd missed the boat with the manager and preparing to offer Richard Milligan yet another role in the above position, we were surprised to receive an email which stated that although the event was a disaster, the management were still keen to see us live in the capital. Another showcase was to be arranged with haste!

The following weekend we departed further west to the land of our birth to support folk legend Steve Tilston at an event that my uncle had organised, which, with 30 years experience would run as smooth as butter; no chance of changing timeslots on this one.
The gig was beautiful; a sit down event that gave us a chance to play many of the old songs that had been left behind as we've increasingly upped our tempo. It allowed us to concentrate more on the FOLK than the ODD! After the gig we were inundated with middle-aged ladies wanting album's signed, this was both fulfilling and frustrating, as the obvious ideal is young girls circling you as you step off stage! But it was very touching and any fans are welcome.

Outside on the steps our most constant fan approached me all smiles dressed as a panda with a stick of bamboo. And this blog's for him! Richimaru.

www.theoddfolk.com

The piano player lives 3 miles away!

Photo by Liam Arthur

It's been a good few weeks since the tour ended. 900 miles completed; no lasting damage to the car and everyone still wants to be in the band! There were dramas of course, everything that goes wrong, went wrong. We were physically and mentally drained. The mishaps and miscommunications; I'll list them. It reads like this:

Couldn't reverse with the trailer, each time we'd have to get out, turn it round and reattach it.
Forgot the guitar; sent the drummer back 100 miles to get it.
Forgot the mic stands; used branches.
Forgot the CD's for at least two gigs.
Put diesel in the petrol car.
Drove off with the petrol cap on the roof.
Went fantasically over budget.
Forgot bedding; bass player slept in a rug, piano player slept in his case!
Record producer stood us up.
Piano player caught meditating during soundcheck.
Audience member wouldn't leave stage after being called up to fan us.
Bass mysteriously cut out during 1st bass solo.
Piano player then played all over 2nd bass solo.
Guitar player broke strings and forgot his shoes.

After the tour the guitar player and I fled to Spain and the piano player went to France and had a nervous breakdown. He arrived back in the UK and promptly moved to Bristol. He now lives 3 miles away!

Having 4 out of 5 of us in the same city is very handy, although as yet we haven't managed to practice; indeed i wonder if any of us have picked up our instruments, we're all still scarred by the three wknd tour!

Ah, but it was a great success; we played to 100's of people, made new fans, sold CD's, made a film, went on the radio. But because we had never done such a concentrated block of dates, in a very slow car with no heating, with lack of sleep and very little time, travelling great distances with no money, and eating bad food from expensive services, by the end we were pale and giddy, we were half our strength, we were ready to throw in the towel.

Spain did a lot to heal my mind, a while away from the whirling bite of England, although the guitar player spent his holiday with a fever. We returned to The Odd Folk HQ somewhat tentatively; we were all still a little fragile. When a new gig came through in London, we were all unnerved, we glanced at each other to gage if we were all still keen. We were.

It's coming up this Sunday 27th at the Islington, in Islington, obviously. We haven't practiced yet, we haven't summoned up the strength. After London, the following weekend, we travel to Cornwall to play with one of folk's great: Steve Tilston. In december we're hosting a big christmas party with a local bluegrass band, Flats and Sharps. 

So, it's picking up again. And we're almost back to full swing. The piano player lives 3 miles away, and our CD is on repeat at the dentist in Clifton; stardom is calling! Makes you think though, being this out of sorts after a three week UK run, what would we be like after a world tour? Destroyed.

www.theoddfolk.com

The three wknd tour!

CAR'S PACKED. Stuffed to the gunnels.
Piano on the roof-rack, amps and PA in the trailer, guitars strapped on the trailer roof. Violin and mandolin, tents and tarps crammed into the boot of the car. The four of us squashed inside. Costa coffees and cake crumbs. The piano player's rambling on, nonsensical ramblings, about this and that, mainly inaudible as the car's humming loudly and straining under the weight. The bass player's reading the map in the back, trying to remain calm while I'm driving, trying to keep the ship from sinking. The guitar player, seldom flustered, is now flustered, he's got a sweat on, trying to liaise with the film crew up ahead where we can get a few shots done. But he doesn't think we're on the same road and the bass player's confused as to which direction we're going! The engine's gone soprano as we try and overtake a lorry and the piano player spills his Copella apple juice on his lap. It's mayhem. The Odd Folk on tour. 

The poor drummer, a new addition, is travelling up in an air-conditioned estate with the film crew. They're up ahead, preparing to set-up and shoot us hurtling around the corner, or so they think, but we're on a different road, heading in a forgotten direction, all four of us talking at the same time about completely different things.

It's quite conceivable the car will break down. Or the trailer tyres will pop and we'll come to a halt on a lay-by somewhere on the A9000 near the the town of Shittington. After numerous phone calls we'll realise the AA membership has run-out. The film-crew and drummer will be out out of signal as they climb into the Peak District and approach the town of Matlock for the evening's gig, none the wiser. We'll either hide the trailer in the bushes for the evening and continue with the car, or if the car has given up we'll continue on foot arriving 2 days late for the concert and 1 day late for the radio interview the next morning!

I hope by writing this I am not temping fate! We're hoping for a crammed but smooth journey, and a fun little insight into our world and our music. We're very blessed to welcome Paul Mackeson on board to film the 2nd leg of our tour and excited by the new addition of our drummer, who is hoping his first gig isn't a drum solo in Matlock!

We're on a 900 mile, three weekend tour that began in rural Cornwall with amps on hay-bales and cows joining in on the chorus, and after Matlock, we shoe-foot up to the big smoke of the capital (that's if the car still works!) for a gig at the Underbelly in Hoxton. Last time we did London we actually were on foot, carrying drums, keyboard, amps etc at rush hour on the northern line! Never straight forward, always a little odd, prone to taking the longer and roundabout routes. It's not how we planned it, it just kinda happened that way. We bought LX tape so we could tape our leads together but we've never used it and the lead bag is like a bowl of spaghetti. My guitar case is held together with gaffer tape and bungee's and the piano player uses an ironing board as he's long since lost his stand. Ramshackle at best!

The tour then takes us back to Bristol for a German folk magazine interview where we have to take the nice lady to our two favourite places in the city, although none of us can decide where to go, the piano player keeps suggesting places that aren't even in Bristol! The guitar player, always one to cut corners, reckons the 1st should be our house and the 2nd should be the venue of the gig! Simple. We play at The Plough that night before tramping back down to Cornwall for The Little Big Festival.

So far so good. The car and trailer made it to Bristol so we know it works. We're confident we'll make the 2nd leg, from Bristol to Derbyshire. Fingers crossed.Tightly crossed.

Follow updates on the website www.theoddfolk.com 

poster by Mae Voogd

The world's most quirky tour bus!

It's summertime and the living is easy. The British Isles have basked in 19 days of consistent and spectacular sunshine; and being in Cornwall, next to some of the world's best beaches, has been the cherry on the icing! We've all forgotten that we're in a band; every man has ditched his dreams of world domination and taken to the seas; lazy days splashing around in turquoise shallows, building sand villages and playing water goalie. I speak for myself and the piano player, we're the ones that have being messing about in boats and getting salt stains on our sandals. The guitar player, as far as I know, has been up at The Odd Folk HQ spending his days gardening for Bristol's middle class, while the bass player (and I hate to think of it!) has been working in an office in London!

World domination has been put firmly on the back burner... until yesterday!

Yesterday I had a brainwave.

I was sorting through some admin; working out logistics for the upcoming giggles. I was focusing on September's Illuminations Festival in Matlock and scratching my salty head wondering how we'd all get there and in what vehicle, when I suddenly had a very silly idea.

For my recent 30th birthday I was given a very special car. A vintage renault 4, circa 1986, complete with it's own little trailer. I thought about the 4 of us cramming in it with all our stuff and trundling off into the Derbyshire sunset and immediately laughed the idea off as a romantic dream. I steadied myself and resolved instead to borrow mother's van and how best to tackle this as she is not particularly keen on the idea. I could bribe her with a day's work! I could give her the £40 I've owed her for a year! But all the while the image of us in my little french car kept popping up and saying, why not?

I wasn't thinking straight, I grabbed my shorts and towel and headed to the beach with the piano player for a dip in the sea and a fresh perspective. While immersed in a game of water goalie, I mentioned the idea of us travelling up in the little Renault and he smiled back and said "That'd make a good film!"

I raised an eyebrow. Almost convinced.

What tipped it for me was this; on the way up the cliff to the car-park and as my phone hit signal again I received a text; it was from my friend the cameraman and it simply said: when are we gonna shoot some stuff?

And that was that. My mind was made up. We'd travel 190 miles up to Derbyshire in a 27 year old French car, with our gear in the little trailer, the paino on the roof-rack and the cameraman could follow us up and shoot a film about how crazy we all were.
He texted back: I'm in!

"You're not borrowing the van by the way!" said mother as I re-entered the house.
"It's alright we're taking the french car and trailer" I smiled.
"Are you mad!?" she barked.
"Yep, plum crazy!" I smiled.

I busied myself, fully immersed in world domination, drawing up a story-board of the film, imagining the finished product propelling us to the main stages of the biggest festivals!

-----------> > >

Today the sunshine rolls on and the baby seagulls are practicing flying from the kitchen roof. I can see my shorts and towel on the washing line and the football is sitting there waiting for another lazy day on the beach.

Not today though. I'm busy with world domination; booking campsite's where we can stay in the peak district and finding out whether my car can tow the weight of all our gear!?

Don't let me down now! I'm enjoying this break from the sand villages; 19 days and my skin's like leather.

www.theoddfolk.com

The nearly boys...

It's been a typical start to the summer - not just with the unpredictable weather (blazing sunshine and hailstones in May!), but the higgledy piggledy nature of our management and planning; leaving us with a rather hit and miss summer of festivities, a little like sunshine and hailstones. 

Our Agent has confirmed their first 'giggle' for us; at a summer illuminations festival in Matlock. This sounds quite fun and it'll be the furthest north we've ventured (sunshine). We have a very cushy support slot with Steve Tilston (big sunshine!) followed by a few weddings for friends of friends (hailstones). We play The Little Big Festival in September (sunshine), and then lug all our gear to a random pub in the arse end of nowhere where our fee is bulked out with cheap cider and pub-grub! (big hailstones!). 

Much of our imagined summer spent performing at the many quirky festivals on the UK summer circuit hasn't quite materialised; CD sales are low, we still owe 4 arms and a head to the debtors and continue to be drummer-less; the piano player still lives 300 miles away; we haven't shot any footage yet and we've still not fixed the mandolin! It's easy to get downbeat and trudge home with hailstone bruises when the suns just a cloud or two away; patience. We absolutely rocked the Ale Festival at The Gurnards Head last month! The music is good, we may all be getting older, but I do think we're getting better! We're the nearly boys, we just need a break in the clouds man...

Luck does play a part; we were offered a slot at The Secret Garden Party but it clashes with WOMAD (ouch!). We were offered a slot at Glastonbury Festival's Greenpeace stage (glorious sunshine!) but no tickets to get in (death by hailstone!). 

Ah well; keep your pecker up, turn your face to the fun, keep on keeping on. 
Shambala and Green Man could confirm next week and then it's a pretty busy programme. Steve Tilston. A nice review in Rock n Reel. A new drummer. 
The Illuminations Festival, that does sounds fun. It doesn't hail in Matlock does it!?

Lady luck!x

Chainsaw Boy!

When I went to meet the piano player from Bristol Temple Meads the first thing I asked him was 'have you got the chainsaw!?' to which he smiled and nodded his head. This was a huge relief as I had been worrying about it all day; the piano player being well known for misplacing things, indeed seldom does he arrive somewhere without having forgotten something!

'Don't worry, I got the chainsaw but I forgot my bloody coat!' he said and laughed.
'Typical' I said and smiled. 'So, where is it?'
'Oh, it's in here' he answered handing me a large bag. The bag was light as a feather, I knew even before I opened it that was the wrong bag. Inside was ladies clothes, underwear and a small bag of makeup. 'You fool!' I sighed in despair, 'Didn't you realise how little it weighed!?'
He looked dumbstruck.

Back in the station and we established where the train was headed, obtained a number for the rail company and handed in the wrong bag; whose owner was sitting on 14.25 to Edinburgh none the wiser that her bag been taken by our piano player.

I phoned the rail company and reported the chainsaw fiasco to them -
'Hi, I left my bag on the train!'
'Ok, describe the bag'
'It's blue and heavy.'
'Ok, and what's inside it?'
'An orange chainsaw and a can of petrol.'
'What!?'
- They told me to phone Edinburgh station lost property instead, so I did. Edinburgh lost property told me to phone back at 11pm when the train had arrived, by which time they'd shut the office till Monday morning!

There was nothing to be done, we played the gig at The Big Issue regardless, without the chainsaw, so crucial to our sound! I jest, but it did put us on the wrong footing somewhat, we pulled through and played well enough though, we even managed to find amusement in the fiasco in the pub afterwards.

The bass player drew three signs saying 'THE' 'ODD' 'FOLK' and the four of us did a silly photo shoot in a tunnel on the way home, with the piano player the only one who didn't have a sign. It worked quite well. He was the odd one - the one who owns the heaviest keyboard known to man and leaves chainsaws on the train!

On monday morning I phoned the lost property in Edinburgh -
'Hello I left my bag on the train on friday, I'm hoping it's arrived with you?'
'Ok, and what kind of bag, sir?'
'Well it's big and blue and...'
'And what, sir?'
'And it's got an orange chainsaw inside it!'
'Ah, you're the chainsaw boy!' he laughed in a strong Scots accents.
'Um, yes, so you have the bag?' i asked.
'No, it's been handed to the police, sir, it's illegal to travel with live fuel!'
'Shit!'

I phoned the police -
'Hello, I believe you have my chainsaw?' I asked tentatively.
'Ah chainsaw boy!' he roared with laughter, 'you've made my weekend! The curious case of the orange chainsaw!'

In the end I had the chainsaw couriered back down to Bristol, the police never charged me, just laughed a lot down the telephone.

We played another gig the following weekend at The Looking Glass, a new music venue in Bristol; the piano player arrived on time and didn't leave anything on the train this time. He was very proud of himself.

He left his shoes behind when he departed though!

www.theoddfolk.com

Bang go the drums!

official logo by Tricky Animator

As the dust settles on our recent stint of world domination (our two-venue Easter tour); a 600 mile scramble across southern England, we reflect upon another exhausting weekend, failing to raise much enthusiasm for the handful of new fans we've gathered and instead focusing on another large financial loss. The piano player has returned to his sub-tropical valley having somehow persuaded us to store his unimaginably heavy keyboard at The Odd Folk HQ! This is most unwelcome. So to is my mother's demand that we return her drumkit immediately which adds another inconvenience to our next stint of world domination, due this weekend.

Sometimes it all seems so impossibly far away, but then...

We are on the verge of 'signing' - this is unofficial news as we haven't actually received a contract as such, so we haven't been crowing it from the rooftops just yet, indeed part of me wonders whether we ever will - sign that is, not crow from rooftops! Already we're on said person's website and having eagerly sent them all of our online existence, contact has... stopped.
I figure they are just very busy sorting out our summer of world domination! Large stadiums and transatlantic tours! Air-conditioned super-coaches from The Big Apple to The City of Angels! Or maybe they've just forgotten about us!?

We have had to part company with our drummer! It is with sadness as he is a lovely player and an old friend, but with very limited money and car-space (not to mention lack of a drumkit!), we have conceded defeat. The search has begun for a player who a) can drive b) owns their own kit and c) doesn't live 100 miles away! Or at least someone who can tick one of those boxes! The bass player suggested we broaden the search; for a beautiful female drummer who can sing and drive, lives around the corner in a large recording studio and owns an air-conditioned mini bus! We met our first applicant the other day. Myself and the guitar player drove over to his studio, "I like that he's got a studio!" said the guitar player as we parked the car. "I know, and he's a drum teacher so he's bound to be amazing!" I added. Wrong. He was very disappointing. Lacking any natural rhythm which is important if you are a drummer. Obviously! God knows what he's doing teaching if he can't play! "Perhaps that's why there's so many bad drummers out there if all the teachers are like that!" said the guitar player as we made a quick getaway back to The Odd Folk HQ. The search continues... but in the meantime we are back to being a quartet, with my feet tapping the rhythm on a kick-drum.

Our next stint of world domination is this Friday at St. Paul's Church in Bristol, as part of the Big Issue's 'Big Sleep Out' - a charity evening to raise awareness for people who sleep on the streets. The church is beautiful and we're looking forward to getting some decent photos with our photographer, plus we'll get a nice article in the magazine too! The bass player, who's the most punctual member of the band, will be late for the sound-check, he's already told us. But I'm more worried about the piano player after our brief conversation today. 

             "What time is the gig on Saturday?"
             "Friday!"
             "Oh...?"
             "You can make it right?"
             "Err, I think so."     
             "Right. See you Friday then, yeah?"
             "Err, yeah... I think I've lost my piano!"
             "It's here!"

He's coming on the train, not with his piano, but with a chainsaw. Yes, you heard correct. In order to chop the large amount of logs that are stacked on our lawn, I am borrowing mother's chainsaw and the piano player is the one entrusted with transporting this dangerous machine. I'm not so much worried about him getting here on time, more that he gets here in one piece. "Err, hello!" he'll say as he hops off the train with the saw in one hand and his leg in the other. As long as his fingers are in tact!

Travelling on trains with chainsaws! That's a good tongue twister. Try saying that really fast again and again and again...

Yes, we are The Odd Folk and this is world domination with a broken mandolin, no drummer, a photographer who can't make it cause he's gone on holiday, no time to sound-check, no money and not enough beds in the house. But we do have a chainsaw!
But no doubt it'll all be worth it; for those stolen moments after Whisky Drunk, when the crowd of homeless drunks at The Big Issue convention congratulate us and then ask us for some Scotch! It'll all be worth it. We've signed now. Or verbally signed. Surely it's only a matter of time before we break America!?

www.theoddfolk.com