Free vitamin water!

So, it's done. I played the gig, the big fat Peter G. gig last weekend. And the playing of the gig was fantastic. The actually being on stage in front of that many people was pretty darn great. Great. Wow. I want to stress that the actual performance was: Great.

But, maybe even more that than, WOW being a musician is _so much_ easier when you're important-enough-to-really-be-important-enough. Points:

-Sound! Festival sound is always a losing battle. You play them because it's fun and there are good audiences, but, always, the sound is horrible. A ten-minute-only turn-around/line-check pretty much guarantees this. But not if you're a headliner on the main stage! Oh, what care, what subtle nuance was devoted to our sound! Our amazing, wonderful sound.

-Headphones! I got to wear one-ear-only headphones. Sure, that doesn't seem like that big a deal, but usually us string players just have to deal with regular headphones balancing precariously so that one ear is on and one is off (so we can hear ourselves and hear the click or whatever). This time someone actually thought about it and invented and provided what we needed. Okay, even if they were a bit big and did slip down a little bit.

-Backstage! A guy who says, 'if we can get it, you can have it.' Like in the movies. But for real. We were a bit overwhelmed and so didn't actually ask for anything. So they brought us chocolate and wine and beer and fruit and shortbread and a cheese plate. Just in case.

The Washing of the Water is a GREAT song.

Hot off the press:

I've got a gig with Peter Gabriel.

Yes.

Peter Gabriel! The sledgehammer Gabriel!

!

Playing in his little string section at WOMAD next weekend.


I've been feeding the rhythm
I've been feeding the rhythm
It's what were doing, doing
All day and night.





I'm not boasting, but, um, yeah, I am*.









*But only because I'm really really really excited. Okay? Okay.

A little recent conversation

Oh, hello teaching violin, how are you liking this hot, humid weather?


Oh. Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that.

Mini-Muddy-Hippie-City

So, I got a little bit blasé this year re: Glastonbury Festival. We played it last year and the year before, so, you know. Glastonbury-Smastonbury.

But then I remembered that it's HUGE and AMAZING and MUDDY and FUN! With a population of 177,000 people (!) over 3.6 square-kilometers, it's way bigger than bath. Heck, it's even bigger than Red Deer.

So, I got excited again and pulled some secret strings to get Erin a ticket (what do you mean she's not Irish?), and muggy-muddy adventures were had by all. A personal favorite was getting stuck on a 3am pedestrian one-way system squished between thousands forcing us to flow from Trash City to Sangri-La. Apt.

Also, I guess it's important to remember that actually being asked to play the festival is a pretty big honour. Even if the free food is kind of, um, runny. And everything's hopelessly out-of-tune and cables are filthy and how-do-you-use-pedals-in-wellies? Still. There's nothing like the power to make crowds of people in rubber boots dance around in ankle-deep mud. And the relative luxury of backstage portapotties.

Bring on the trumpets!

So. I have a problem. But at least I'm aware of it. And at least my flat is spacious enough to deal with the repercussions.

I have a problem. I love instruments. I can't not collect instruments. I want them all. (I want to be able to play them all, brilliantly, too, for the record. You know, for recording records....)

Is it, therefor, very much a surprise that yesterday, at an instrument auction in Corsham, I bought five trumpets?

Five trumpets, (It was only 28pounds! For FIVE!)
a tenor recorder,
and one mystery item.

Oh boy, oh boy. Bring on the trumpets.

(And, the cases are gorgeous, to boot.)