Sunday 26 April 2020

I am the deputy

Hey I'm Pat, you can call me the deputy.

When I was young I heard a story from an older kid about a world famous band. Top secret insider information. The story was that when they performed massive stadium shows there was a guy with headphones and a microphone hidden under the stage. He’d sing along to all the tunes and he sounded identical to the lead singer. They’d cleverly mix his voice in to make up for the fact that the guy running around and gyrating onstage was living the rock god lifestyle and not hitting the high notes the way he used to. 

I used to imagine that the man below lived a tragic existence. He’d probably signed a non-disclosure agreement and been sworn to secrecy. He’d probably have to wear a disguise and pretend that he had some sort of boring job on tour. Polishing the mic stands. Ironing the drummer’s bandannas. There could only be half a dozen people who knew the truth. That’s a hell of a way to NOT to be in a band.

Darryl Jones first started playing bass for the Rolling Stones in 1993 or 94 when Bill Wyman retired. He’s been on the albums and live shows for over 25 years. Last time I checked he’s still not considered an official member of the Stones. Check out their publicity photos. That’s another way to NOT to be in band.

I’ve NOT been a member of The Odd Folk for exactly a year now. It started off when Oscar couldn’t do the European tour last spring. I knew Morgan from working together on a theatre show about Cornish Miners and that led to drinking Scotch and jamming tunes in a static home in St. Just at 4am. He got in touch with me a few weeks before the van was set to depart and I just happened to have a bit of free time in my schedule and that led to drinking wine in a 16th Century German frame built house in Riesling Country at 4am.

In the USA we’d call it being a ‘sub’ (substitute). Here in the UK they call it
being a ‘dep’ (deputy). I like the way ‘dep’ sounds because it makes me think of old western films and I wish they gave you a shiny deputy star badge that you would proudly display on your guitar strap to let everyone know that you meant business. 


There’s a few different ways dep situations tend to work. Sometimes they give you a bunch of recordings from albums and maybe some live shows and you have to work out all the parts by ear. Sometimes they give you a book or PDFs with all the parts written out meticulously and they expect you to do it exactly as written. Usually it’s a bit of a potpourri. Sometimes you get a combination of barely audible voice recordings, post-it notes, folded and wrinkled up coffee stained manuscript pages, and links to songs that are in different keys than they currently play them, and sometimes the bridge sections have changed and you need to "Watch Larry during the third chorus and if he nods twice that means we’re going to modulate up to Eb but if he blinks we’ll go straight into the intro for the next tune”.

I got lucky with how it all went with The Odd Folk. Morgan came to my living room we drank tea and he sang and played through something like 20 tunes and I jotted down outlines, recorded bits and played along. I learned a few of Oscar’s parts note for note but mostly I was given some freedom to bring a bit of my personality into the band. I had another rehearsal with Morgan and Louis the day before the tour. I met Shelley for the first time on stage at the first gig. I met Andy on stage for the second gig.

There’s always a bit of a funny thing after a gig when you’re not really in the band. When someone comes up to talk to you by the bar you have to find the right point to tell them that you’re not actually in the band or else you feel like you might be presenting yourself under false pretence. It’s a bit like trying to figure out if someone you meet is flirting with you, and deciding whether it’s appropriate or uncomfortably presumptuous to inform them that you’re in a relationship.  

There are also those times when a long-term Belgian fan asks you where the usual guy is and is relieved to hear that he hasn’t actually left the band, he’s just taking a break. Then they feel awkward because they think that they may have hurt your feelings and so they say something like ‘It’s not better or worse, it's just different’ but really you couldn't care less and you’re more preoccupied thinking about whether or not you might be able to step outside for a cigarette (even though you quit years ago) and justify it because you’re just filling in for another guy, so maybe it’s really like it’s them smoking instead of you.

But it’s been a real joy. I was ‘Not Oscar’ for a few other shows after the tour and then I was ‘Not Louis‘ for a couple more. I was almost going to be ‘Not Shelley’ for something else but that ended up not happening. Some people say being in a band is like being in a marriage. To several people at the same time. And members can leave for a bit and be replaced by random people for a while. And you can secretly keep a guy in the cellar to perform the duties that you can’t quite pull off the way you used to.

Wednesday 15 April 2020

I am the accordion player

I am the trombone player too...

… and the mandolin hitter and piano tinkler and I think I have handled 10 different instruments in this band. I am famously a jack of all trades and a master of none. The funny thing is, I didn’t even play an accordion the first time I performed with The Odd Folk, nor a trombone for that matter! Both instruments of which have become synonymous with my Odd Folk appearances. I agreed to play two shows for the band back in the Autumn of 2015, and over sixty gigs later, three tours and a lot of fond memories, I’ve still not been officially asked to join! 

I am the baby of the band… 

…but one of the elders in its council. We have a highly sophisticated ritual to becoming an elder which involves beard growth, owning a van, drinking ale, and punctuality; this way a natural hierarchy is formed. I have only been around for less than half of the band’s career, but even in my short time I have experienced musicians come and go within the outfit. I still feel very much like the new member, however with five years under my belt I am truly inaugurated in the “Odd” ways. 

If you want to know what 5 years in the band looks like these two photos sum it up.


2015

2020


I do as little as possible…

…on stage. Which is actually way harder than it sounds. The thing about The Odd Folk is that the material works played by one musician or ten! Everybody has a very specific role in adding texture and flavour to the music, too much of anything will overpower the mix and it will inevitably fall apart. The main thing to ask oneself when playing is… is this really needed right now? Resisting that urge to play and simply standing on stage with your bandmates is a truly wonderful thing, I highly recommend it if you haven’t tried. If I’ve learnt anything in my time with the band it’s that less (and more often than not, nothing) is absolutely more.

I am at home…

…and I hope you are too! I am writing this blog entry mid global pandemic, which has quite swiftly and dramatically shaken the world. My only connection to the band is now a digital one. I recently received word that our dear friend The Drummer has been stricken by this deadly virus. I trust he is making a strong recovery, but it just goes to show that even down in the deepest darkest depths of West Cornwall this international crisis can still find us. 

Naturally, the situation has put a stop to almost all band activity. We had a little string of gigs coming up, some time set aside for writing, and a whole season of festivals to look forward to. Alas, this will now have to be shelved until further notice. But we are an optimistic bunch, and we’re treating this time as “cocooning” only to flourish on the other side as beautiful butterflies, or moths, I’m pretty sure I’d be a moth. Maybe we should all be using this time in which to cocoon, thinking about who and how we want to be on the other side. Just a thought… 

I love the road…

…more so than the destination. Which is a cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason. The on stage playing time is comparatively slow to the “out of hours” activity. That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy playing, I’m sure any of my bandmates would affirm just how much I love to perform, but it’s the people you meet after the show, the swims, the walks, the punctured tyres, the police checks, the forgotten bags, the food, the fights, the days off, the friends, the mistakes, the hangovers, the hospitality that keep us all going. 

And it’s the ways in which we all adapt to these situations that make us the band we are. To return to my original point, I feel safe in speaking on behalf of all of us when I say you must be a jack of all trades to be in this band. There is so much to do aside from playing ones instrument, and it’s those little things that are often overlooked. Performing the music is the end result of the band’s combined efforts in email writing, driving, negotiating and conversing. Similarly to being on the road, I find these little things are all part of the journey to actually standing in front of you to play. And its always completely brilliant. The energy at an Odd Folk gig, whether it be festival, house concert or bar, is consistently positive. And this comes from you - our audience - so thank you.

To wrap up, if there is anything I can impart from being in this band it’s the following…

Stay at home, grow a beard and do nothing. But simultaneously learn how to do everything, it’ll make getting to your final destination that much easier!