We played a couple of gigs at the end of the summer... one at the Rendezvous, St. Helens, as part of a vintage fair (we played and sang 'oldies' on the piano, rather than our usual folk repertoire), one at Victoria Park, St. Helens (which we also compered) and one at The Brink, Liverpool, as part of Hope Fest.
The first was great fun; the second was very hectic and stressful but we appreciated the opportunity to reach a potentially wider audience; the third was very quiet but those who were there seemed to really enjoy themselves, and it was for such a good cause.
Unfortunately very shortly after those gigs Ruth became ill and had to attend hospital (nothing, we hasten to add, to do with any of the gigs).
Ruth's slowly but surely on the mend now, but it has given us a chance to reassess what we're doing with Moss & Jones. Obviously, we would still love for you to buy our CD (and if you have already, and you liked it, feel free to write us a little review on your blog, or Facebook, or twitter and @ us in) and we still welcome radio and podcast airplay, but in terms of gigs, we're going to have a little rest. We normally put on a Christmas gig, full of carols and Yuletide songs, but unless people are really clamouring for such a thing (or unless a venue wants to pay us to put on such a gig and help with the organisation...) we're going to take a break from gigging until the new year, although you can download our Christmas carol from last year if you like to 'tide you over'!
Come the new year, we want to try to build up more of an audience, so that when we put on gigs ourselves we can be assured of a reasonable turnout. We're going to take it all 'back to basics' - go to more open mic events, attend folk clubs, possibly even go busking... we're going to use the interim time to practise our instruments, and just play together for fun. It's so easy to lose sight of that side of things, what with having to have a 'social media presence', an up-to-date blog, a CD to flog in order to try to at least break even, 'networking' to try to do, and so on... it's meant to be fun after all.
When we started this, making music together, we agreed that if it ever stopped being fun all together, we'd stop. To be honest, we nearly did... but instead, we're going to make it fun again.
See you very soon!
Ruth & Marc
xx
Showing posts with label gigs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gigs. Show all posts
Sunday, 11 October 2015
Sunday, 31 August 2014
Our gig at the Bombed Out Church, with the fabulous Laura&Claire, by Ruth
Remember a couple of days ago when I was banging on about how amazing open mic nights are? Well, at a recent open mic, I saw two young women, both playing acoustic guitars in counterpoint with each other, and singing the most lush harmonies; the pair were called Laura&Claire and as soon as their first song was about half way through I turned to Marc and said, “if we’re gigging again at the Bombed Out Church any time we should TOTALLY ask these if they want to play too.”
Now, partly, this was because I really enjoyed their music and guessed quite a few of our friends might enjoy their music too. However, part of it, possibly selfishly, was because I wanted to hear them play again and what better way than to have them play at our gig?
Anyway, after a long journey into town on a packed 10a ‘bus with the child, we arrived at the Bombed Out Church and got set up thanks to Jake, the Bombie’s sound man. Laura and Claire arrived shortly after and once they were set up, it was time for them to start playing.
Everyone to whom I’d said, “you must see these two” agreed with me that they were excellent. It was also lovely to see that as they continued playing, the place got fuller. The sound from outside the building is really good in fact and on hearing Laura and Claire playing I imagine quite a few people must have been drawn in!
The pair played a wonderful set; one of the things that’s great about watching musicians play live is when they clearly have a lot of fun doing it; watching these two you can see such chemistry and camaraderie between them that when you learn they’ve been playing together since they were children you can believe it.
Then it was our turn; by this time quite a few of our friends and family had arrived - huge thanks to all of you, so wonderful you could make it! - so we were very excited and a bit nervous. We played a really folky set this time around, including, for the first time together, live, our mandolin/accordion/harmonies version of Reynardine. We also started the set with our “nineties-tastic family-friendly Moss & Jones wedding medley,” a portmanteau of four songs played on ukulele and glockenspiel, and with a sense of humour.
(Thanks to our friend Beth for the picture.)
After the gig, we actually went to the ‘bus station in Liverpool One (better chance of getting a seat at the back which means Marc, the child, and I, can sit together) but on the way there, we saw that the pianos were out! Well, we couldn’t resist; we busked three songs; Sally and Millbrook, with Marc on the piano and me singing and on glockenspiel, and of course, a little bit of Bach’s second English Suite in A Minor (me, for once, on piano). And… we earned a few bob! We’ll buy a cake with it for all three of us, as the little one, of course, had his own little play around on the piano.
Then it was back home… and here we are. We’re back in the Bombed Out Church in two weeks, but it’s a relatively private gig (as we’re getting married)! However, if you’d like to see us play again, we’re going to be doing a song or two at the open mic at Sound Food and Drink on Duke Street in Liverpool, tomorrow (Monday) night.
What have we learned from this gig?
Well, I’ve had a dodgy wrist for a few weeks now; I’m wearing a support until I can get to the doctor. It’s nothing serious, however, a wrist support, and the intricate plucking needed to play the instrumental version of Pastime With Good Company on the ukulele, do not together go, unfortunately. It was, as they say, a “brave performance”. However when my wrist is a bit better, we’ll be getting mediaeval - well, tudor - on your asses again.
Secondly, a few bob from a quick busk is lovely, and it has really raised our spirits for a busking “tour” we have planned for the new year. Want to know more? Watch this space!
Now, partly, this was because I really enjoyed their music and guessed quite a few of our friends might enjoy their music too. However, part of it, possibly selfishly, was because I wanted to hear them play again and what better way than to have them play at our gig?
Anyway, after a long journey into town on a packed 10a ‘bus with the child, we arrived at the Bombed Out Church and got set up thanks to Jake, the Bombie’s sound man. Laura and Claire arrived shortly after and once they were set up, it was time for them to start playing.
Everyone to whom I’d said, “you must see these two” agreed with me that they were excellent. It was also lovely to see that as they continued playing, the place got fuller. The sound from outside the building is really good in fact and on hearing Laura and Claire playing I imagine quite a few people must have been drawn in!
The pair played a wonderful set; one of the things that’s great about watching musicians play live is when they clearly have a lot of fun doing it; watching these two you can see such chemistry and camaraderie between them that when you learn they’ve been playing together since they were children you can believe it.
Then it was our turn; by this time quite a few of our friends and family had arrived - huge thanks to all of you, so wonderful you could make it! - so we were very excited and a bit nervous. We played a really folky set this time around, including, for the first time together, live, our mandolin/accordion/harmonies version of Reynardine. We also started the set with our “nineties-tastic family-friendly Moss & Jones wedding medley,” a portmanteau of four songs played on ukulele and glockenspiel, and with a sense of humour.
(Thanks to our friend Beth for the picture.)
After the gig, we actually went to the ‘bus station in Liverpool One (better chance of getting a seat at the back which means Marc, the child, and I, can sit together) but on the way there, we saw that the pianos were out! Well, we couldn’t resist; we busked three songs; Sally and Millbrook, with Marc on the piano and me singing and on glockenspiel, and of course, a little bit of Bach’s second English Suite in A Minor (me, for once, on piano). And… we earned a few bob! We’ll buy a cake with it for all three of us, as the little one, of course, had his own little play around on the piano.
Then it was back home… and here we are. We’re back in the Bombed Out Church in two weeks, but it’s a relatively private gig (as we’re getting married)! However, if you’d like to see us play again, we’re going to be doing a song or two at the open mic at Sound Food and Drink on Duke Street in Liverpool, tomorrow (Monday) night.
What have we learned from this gig?
Well, I’ve had a dodgy wrist for a few weeks now; I’m wearing a support until I can get to the doctor. It’s nothing serious, however, a wrist support, and the intricate plucking needed to play the instrumental version of Pastime With Good Company on the ukulele, do not together go, unfortunately. It was, as they say, a “brave performance”. However when my wrist is a bit better, we’ll be getting mediaeval - well, tudor - on your asses again.
Secondly, a few bob from a quick busk is lovely, and it has really raised our spirits for a busking “tour” we have planned for the new year. Want to know more? Watch this space!
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
In defence of open mic nights, by Ruth
I’ve read a few blog posts recently knocking open mic nights, primarily from the usual “don’t play for free” standpoint that gets hashed and rehashed and then mashed and bathed in oil and fried and re-hashed again over on many music forums (including the wonderful Liverpool Bands).
Now, the “don’t play for free” thing is quite an old debate and tends to go like this: “I’ll get a plumber to come over and offer to pay THEM with ‘exposure’ shall I?” “Yes but a plumber has had to take exams and learn how to be a plumber.” “So have I, I did my grade 5 piano when I was 19.” And on, and on. I don’t want particularly to rehash that argument because it never ends. I will say, we’ve played the vast majority of our gigs for free, and we’ve also done a handful where we’ve been paid (though not huge amounts by any stretch).
I am also perfectly aware that it’s different for us, an acoustic duo who practise at home and don’t have massive overheads (although we really should get that piano tuned), than, say, a four or five piece band who have to pay out for rehearsal room hire and sound equipment and so on. But this is about open mic nights, and let’s face it, they’re aimed at small bands and solo acts.
Anyway, the anti- open mic stuff I’ve read seems to be based on the premise that this, too, is playing for free, and given that musicians should apparently Never Ever Do That, it’s also wrong to perform at an open mic.
That’s a picture of us, performing at an open mic, by the way, in case you were wondering on which side of this argument we fell.
I really do think that doing a slot at an open mic is different than doing a gig for free. I have some sympathy with the idea that bands shouldn’t do the latter (though, see earlier, we have) but … an open mic? Really?
Let’s take this in two parts.
Firstly, the idea which I’ve read a bit that landlords are putting on open mic nights to avoid paying to put on a band. Okay, let’s start with the thing about “landlords”. Most open mics I’ve been to have been in cafés or bars. I’ve been to literally one open mic in a proper old school “pub with a landlord” pub, and that was a weird little place in Deptford in 2001, back when I lived in London. Also it was a poetry open mic, which may - or may not - be different.
In fact, I ran an open mic a few years ago in a café in St. Helens. The owner of the café actually opened it up specifically on a Monday evening once a month just for the open mic. I approached him with the idea, not vice versa. He made no money off it on the night, at least at first, as everyone brought their own booze. The only people who came were performers and their friends; there was no passing trade because the café wouldn’t have been open then anyway. If it wasn’t for the open mic, the place would have been closed on a Monday night and it might even have saved him some money on heating and lecky bills. He was a big advocate for the arts, and in the long term, I think having the open night there made people kindly disposed towards the place and more likely to come back. Hardly a cynical landlord putting on an open mic because he was too tight to pay a band.
Also, let’s be brutally honest here. Lots of acts performing at open mics are amazing, but some are … on their way to amazing, and not quite there yet. That’s okay, of course, everyone starts somewhere, but the idea a pub landlord would believe that punters would be just as happy with an open mic as with a booked band is a tad silly, n’est ce pas?
I’ve also met quite a few people running open mics, but never once have I met one whose motives have been about “saving money on bands”. Mostly, they’ve wanted to give new talent a platform, hear new music and have a bit of a ‘jam’. Occasionally they’ve wanted to make a bit of a name for themselves as a compère. Once or twice it’s so they’ve a regular opportunity to perform their own songs/poems. But even the more cynical of those reasons is nothing compared to the suggestion that they want to save money for the venue.
Most of the time, running an open mic is an unpaid task, too. If anyone should get narky about not getting paid, it’s the compère/organiser and not the performers; they’re doing a hugely hard job behind the scenes and on the night and usually on a volunteer basis too, and usually they go largely unthanked (people seem to think the compère is part of the furniture. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank from the bottom of my heart anyone who has ever ran an open mic event we’ve attended. You’re amazing, you really are). But no one seems to mention them in the anti-open mic stuff.
There we are at another open mic night, depriving booked performers of a decent crust. Oh, wait, there were some booked performers that night too, earning a decent crust.
Secondly, the idea that playing an open mic is the same as playing a normal gig, unpaid. It just isn’t! In order to get a gig, you have to - well, I’ll be honest, we haven’t completely figured it out yet. Be lucky, in the right place at the right time, know the right people and work hard. And be really cheeky too, but the right amount of cheeky. But what you CAN’T do, is just turn up and start playing.
Unlike an open mic night.
Time to be totally honest here. We’ve not always been that good. I know, I know, you’re shocked and horrified. But it’s true. When we started out in the winter of 2012 with nothing but a violin and a really cheap ukulele we played the rounds of open mics because we were literally okay. It took us over half a year of playing open mic nights before we could even dream of being good enough to play a full gig. We are SO grateful to those places that put them on and gave us the chance to practice in front of an audience, seeing what worked, and what didn’t, and who put up with our “let’s use a violin to open Hark the Herald, instead of a trumpet, that’ll totally work!”
Let’s face it, too; not all, but some open mic events have some quite sophisticated sound equipment and someone knowledgeable around to work it. If you really can’t shake the idea that you’re somehow being “done” because you’re playing for free, think of it as a barter. You’re getting to hire a PA and a sound engineer for fifteen minutes; they’re getting to hear your unique finger-plucking cover of Shakermaker.
And at those open mic events that are unamplified, which are basically busking without the hat? What does the performer get there? Well, we’ve made friends at these and got talking to other musicians who are at similar stages to us; we’ve shared tips and swapped contacts, and again… you’re getting to practice in front of an audience. Yes, you could do that with busking too (and we plan to) but people are less likely to sit and listen when it’s chucking it down and freezing cold. It’s also fantastic for young musicians (I mean really young, too; I’ve been at an open mic where a ten or eleven year old boy performed a violin solo that would have made Nigel Kennedy’s eyes open wide with amazement) who wouldn’t normally get that kind of platform outside of school assemblies. You’re getting a warm audience, in more than one sense of the word “warm”.
—-
One thing I will say, however, is that the idea that venues and promoters, or even music executives, are scouring the open mics looking for new talent, has certainly not been our experience. I think we’ve got just two gigs from people seeing us at an open mic, and that’s in going on three years of doing them (as I said earlier, we have got our gigs through a mixture of other methods, but rarely this). I think if you’re going around open mics expecting to be noticed and given gigs, or signed, or whatever, you’re possibly approaching it with the wrong idea and it’s going to make you a bit miserable. If, however, you see open mics as a great place to practise playing in front of an audience, and also a wonderful opportunity to be the first of your friends to hear some amazing new music, and of course, to make friends, to have fun, and to do what you love, then you’re probably going to enjoy yourselves.
So, yes, we’ll continue to do open mic events in amongst our gigs. Because we love them. The whole “don’t play gigs for free” thing is another discussion for another time, and with that, I can genuinely see both sides of the debate. But I don’t think open mic events fit into the category of “playing a gig for free”.
And if you want to earn a living from music? Join a covers band and practise every day and do the ultra-competitive world of weddings and pubs. Become a music teacher (hey, all you need to do is increase that grade 5 piano to a grade 8, and then maybe get your ABRSM diploma in music teaching, and sort out your DBS form, and get a customer base and a reputation). Work hard and learn a craft as a sound engineer (because it’s true, no one does ask them to work for “exposure”).
Or become a rock star. I’m not sure how you do that though.
(Other ways of making money within the music industry do exist and all involve lots of hard work and tend not to be impeded by playing, or not, open mic nights.)
Now, the “don’t play for free” thing is quite an old debate and tends to go like this: “I’ll get a plumber to come over and offer to pay THEM with ‘exposure’ shall I?” “Yes but a plumber has had to take exams and learn how to be a plumber.” “So have I, I did my grade 5 piano when I was 19.” And on, and on. I don’t want particularly to rehash that argument because it never ends. I will say, we’ve played the vast majority of our gigs for free, and we’ve also done a handful where we’ve been paid (though not huge amounts by any stretch).
I am also perfectly aware that it’s different for us, an acoustic duo who practise at home and don’t have massive overheads (although we really should get that piano tuned), than, say, a four or five piece band who have to pay out for rehearsal room hire and sound equipment and so on. But this is about open mic nights, and let’s face it, they’re aimed at small bands and solo acts.
Anyway, the anti- open mic stuff I’ve read seems to be based on the premise that this, too, is playing for free, and given that musicians should apparently Never Ever Do That, it’s also wrong to perform at an open mic.
That’s a picture of us, performing at an open mic, by the way, in case you were wondering on which side of this argument we fell.
I really do think that doing a slot at an open mic is different than doing a gig for free. I have some sympathy with the idea that bands shouldn’t do the latter (though, see earlier, we have) but … an open mic? Really?
Let’s take this in two parts.
Firstly, the idea which I’ve read a bit that landlords are putting on open mic nights to avoid paying to put on a band. Okay, let’s start with the thing about “landlords”. Most open mics I’ve been to have been in cafés or bars. I’ve been to literally one open mic in a proper old school “pub with a landlord” pub, and that was a weird little place in Deptford in 2001, back when I lived in London. Also it was a poetry open mic, which may - or may not - be different.
In fact, I ran an open mic a few years ago in a café in St. Helens. The owner of the café actually opened it up specifically on a Monday evening once a month just for the open mic. I approached him with the idea, not vice versa. He made no money off it on the night, at least at first, as everyone brought their own booze. The only people who came were performers and their friends; there was no passing trade because the café wouldn’t have been open then anyway. If it wasn’t for the open mic, the place would have been closed on a Monday night and it might even have saved him some money on heating and lecky bills. He was a big advocate for the arts, and in the long term, I think having the open night there made people kindly disposed towards the place and more likely to come back. Hardly a cynical landlord putting on an open mic because he was too tight to pay a band.
Also, let’s be brutally honest here. Lots of acts performing at open mics are amazing, but some are … on their way to amazing, and not quite there yet. That’s okay, of course, everyone starts somewhere, but the idea a pub landlord would believe that punters would be just as happy with an open mic as with a booked band is a tad silly, n’est ce pas?
I’ve also met quite a few people running open mics, but never once have I met one whose motives have been about “saving money on bands”. Mostly, they’ve wanted to give new talent a platform, hear new music and have a bit of a ‘jam’. Occasionally they’ve wanted to make a bit of a name for themselves as a compère. Once or twice it’s so they’ve a regular opportunity to perform their own songs/poems. But even the more cynical of those reasons is nothing compared to the suggestion that they want to save money for the venue.
Most of the time, running an open mic is an unpaid task, too. If anyone should get narky about not getting paid, it’s the compère/organiser and not the performers; they’re doing a hugely hard job behind the scenes and on the night and usually on a volunteer basis too, and usually they go largely unthanked (people seem to think the compère is part of the furniture. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank from the bottom of my heart anyone who has ever ran an open mic event we’ve attended. You’re amazing, you really are). But no one seems to mention them in the anti-open mic stuff.
There we are at another open mic night, depriving booked performers of a decent crust. Oh, wait, there were some booked performers that night too, earning a decent crust.
Secondly, the idea that playing an open mic is the same as playing a normal gig, unpaid. It just isn’t! In order to get a gig, you have to - well, I’ll be honest, we haven’t completely figured it out yet. Be lucky, in the right place at the right time, know the right people and work hard. And be really cheeky too, but the right amount of cheeky. But what you CAN’T do, is just turn up and start playing.
Unlike an open mic night.
Time to be totally honest here. We’ve not always been that good. I know, I know, you’re shocked and horrified. But it’s true. When we started out in the winter of 2012 with nothing but a violin and a really cheap ukulele we played the rounds of open mics because we were literally okay. It took us over half a year of playing open mic nights before we could even dream of being good enough to play a full gig. We are SO grateful to those places that put them on and gave us the chance to practice in front of an audience, seeing what worked, and what didn’t, and who put up with our “let’s use a violin to open Hark the Herald, instead of a trumpet, that’ll totally work!”
Let’s face it, too; not all, but some open mic events have some quite sophisticated sound equipment and someone knowledgeable around to work it. If you really can’t shake the idea that you’re somehow being “done” because you’re playing for free, think of it as a barter. You’re getting to hire a PA and a sound engineer for fifteen minutes; they’re getting to hear your unique finger-plucking cover of Shakermaker.
And at those open mic events that are unamplified, which are basically busking without the hat? What does the performer get there? Well, we’ve made friends at these and got talking to other musicians who are at similar stages to us; we’ve shared tips and swapped contacts, and again… you’re getting to practice in front of an audience. Yes, you could do that with busking too (and we plan to) but people are less likely to sit and listen when it’s chucking it down and freezing cold. It’s also fantastic for young musicians (I mean really young, too; I’ve been at an open mic where a ten or eleven year old boy performed a violin solo that would have made Nigel Kennedy’s eyes open wide with amazement) who wouldn’t normally get that kind of platform outside of school assemblies. You’re getting a warm audience, in more than one sense of the word “warm”.
—-
One thing I will say, however, is that the idea that venues and promoters, or even music executives, are scouring the open mics looking for new talent, has certainly not been our experience. I think we’ve got just two gigs from people seeing us at an open mic, and that’s in going on three years of doing them (as I said earlier, we have got our gigs through a mixture of other methods, but rarely this). I think if you’re going around open mics expecting to be noticed and given gigs, or signed, or whatever, you’re possibly approaching it with the wrong idea and it’s going to make you a bit miserable. If, however, you see open mics as a great place to practise playing in front of an audience, and also a wonderful opportunity to be the first of your friends to hear some amazing new music, and of course, to make friends, to have fun, and to do what you love, then you’re probably going to enjoy yourselves.
So, yes, we’ll continue to do open mic events in amongst our gigs. Because we love them. The whole “don’t play gigs for free” thing is another discussion for another time, and with that, I can genuinely see both sides of the debate. But I don’t think open mic events fit into the category of “playing a gig for free”.
And if you want to earn a living from music? Join a covers band and practise every day and do the ultra-competitive world of weddings and pubs. Become a music teacher (hey, all you need to do is increase that grade 5 piano to a grade 8, and then maybe get your ABRSM diploma in music teaching, and sort out your DBS form, and get a customer base and a reputation). Work hard and learn a craft as a sound engineer (because it’s true, no one does ask them to work for “exposure”).
Or become a rock star. I’m not sure how you do that though.
(Other ways of making money within the music industry do exist and all involve lots of hard work and tend not to be impeded by playing, or not, open mic nights.)
Saturday, 19 July 2014
And that's a wrap: Ruth writes about the Big Busk in St. Helens' Victoria Park
We’ve done lots of gigs in Liverpool in our time, in some gorgeous venues, but not much in the town in which we reside, St. Helens (for no reason except that they just haven’t come up in the same way). This summer we’ve managed to do two, in quick succession; the first in Rainhill and this, the second, and the last of our summer gigs (we’re taking August off gigging to organise our September wedding) even closer to home, in the newly refurbished bandstand in St. Helens’ Victoria Park.
We arrived just as the afternoon was starting. There were two stages; the other was more of a rock/indie orientated stage, and as the action on both stages took place simultaneously, we took the decision to stick around the bandstand for the more folky/acoustic side of things.
The lady compèring the bandstand’s events was called Diane and she introduced each act with a mix of humour, professionalism and good cheer.
We caught a little bit of dance troupe Paparazzi; my son’s more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than I and he seemed to enjoy it, but then we went off to the Lodge to drop off our instruments. When we got back a chap in an Iron Maiden T-shirt (I did ask him his name but to my shame I have forgotten, and he isn’t one of the people on the bill, so if anyone knows who he is please do let me know, as he was great and I’d like to hear more) was playing some folky, melodic stuff which we enjoyed. We also caught some of Cesar Bodey, who carried on like a trouper despite some technical issues (which sound man Steve did his best to remedy) and a sore arm!
Then we heard Shaun Brussels’ set. This young man is already practically a guitar virtuoso… and he’s just fourteen! If there’s any fairness in the music industry you’ll be hearing this young man’s name quite a bit in future.
Then it was us! This was the first gig this summer for which we’d decided to go piano-less. We do open mics sans piano, of course, as lugging around a keyboard on the ‘bus is a pretty hefty task if you’re only going to be playing two or three songs, but this was a full set. As such, we took the decision not to play our piano ballad Sally, to change Millbrook to ukulele and glockenspiel, and not to add in any of our “oldie” type piano covers.
We started with Bad Sitcom, then played our cover of 80s kids’ TV cartoon Mysterious Cities of Gold (and segued it into Gaudete). We followed with three folk songs in our own arrangements back to back; Scarborough Fair, The Stonecutter’s Boy and Let No Man Steal Your Thyme. After that, we played the first of two 90s dance songs in a folky style; Set You Free. There followed two originals; Millbrook and Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed).
Finally, for the first time live, we played the second folky-cover-of-a-90s-dance-tune of the day, our take on Ebeneezer Goode, on mandolin and ukulele with me singing the rap rubato, and Marc joining me on vocal harmonies for the chorus. We can honestly say without boasting that it seemed to go down an absolute treat. And then that was that, it was a wrap from us. Diane had some nice words for us about our forthcoming wedding and we left the stage.
It was interesting that about half way through our set, the crowd suddenly doubled in size. Much as I’d like to tell you it was all our fans coming to see us, it seemed what had happened was that over on the rock stage there was a big break while a band with a huge set up got ready, and so people drifted over towards the bandstand. However, the majority of them seemed to stay, so we must have been tuneful enough to keep at least part of a more rock-oriented crowd, which is quite pleasing.
After us was our friend Will Barnes who played a fantastic set. I’ve seen many of Will’s gigs over the past couple of years; Will’s always been a talented musician but more recently his intra-set banter has become an integral part of his set too. Also he opened one of his songs with the first lines of one of our songs, and another of his songs with a bit of REM. Basically, Will was great, and he’s always gigging around St. Helens and Liverpool, and you should make an effort to go and see him.
Then came Billy & John, acoustic folk duo, with a set consisting mainly of originals … and the second mandolin of the day! Fantastic stuff. Following them was Paul Atherton, who’d brought an exuberant crowd with him. Who knew Amy McDonald’s Mr Rock and Roll could still work in such an anthemic style?
The day wound down with a very syncronised dance troupe, Connect (my son, who likes that sort of thing, was mesmerised), and then a set from Diane’s partner (who’s name I’ve forgotten - sorry ) who included a cover of Leadbelly’s Where Did You Sleep Last Night in his set. There was a little boy dancing on the bandstand throughout his set - I don’t think it was staged - pure spontaneity like that can’t be!
As we were packing up, performance poets The MadLads (formerly The Amigos) got up for an impromptu set which seemed to go down well with what was left of the crowd. They used to attend a poetry night I and a friend of mine put on in St. Helens a couple of years ago. I’d like to see them take a leaf out of the book of some other comedy poets now, and really perform their rhymes. Stuart Kenyon in particular has some wistful, intelligent verse and it’s great to see his delivery catching up with that.
All in all it was a fantastic day. Once again we got to meet up with some people who we’d only known previously on twitter, including Mike Ashworth and Lynn Gerrard. We also saw Andy Bowden, one time mayor of St. Helens, watching our set; later he said on twitter that it was (Ebeneezer) Good(e). A chap from the paper came to take our picture, so you never know, we could be in there this Thursday, although I imagine he took pretty much everyone’s picture so who knows.
Whatever happens though, it was a great gig; we loved all the music and performances going on at the bandstand. In some ways it’s a shame we couldn’t get to the other stage to have a listen but you can’t be in two places at once, and where we were had such a lot to offer.
Huge thanks to all the organisers, especially Vikki who had put a herculean amount of effort into ensuring this was such a fantastic event despite adverse weather (there was a storm the night before the Big Busk, and the morning saw heavy, pelting rain) and being poorly herself. I really hope she manages to get some rest now; there’s no one deserves it more right now!
Anyway, officially at any rate, that was our last gig of the summer; we hope you enjoyed it! We’ll probably do an open mic or two between now and September but aside from that we’re concentrating on organising our biggest gig ever; our wedding! Watch out for us in autumn though…
[Our “what have we learned from this gig?” feature will have a post all of its own! Keep an eye out on the blog…]
We arrived just as the afternoon was starting. There were two stages; the other was more of a rock/indie orientated stage, and as the action on both stages took place simultaneously, we took the decision to stick around the bandstand for the more folky/acoustic side of things.
The lady compèring the bandstand’s events was called Diane and she introduced each act with a mix of humour, professionalism and good cheer.
We caught a little bit of dance troupe Paparazzi; my son’s more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than I and he seemed to enjoy it, but then we went off to the Lodge to drop off our instruments. When we got back a chap in an Iron Maiden T-shirt (I did ask him his name but to my shame I have forgotten, and he isn’t one of the people on the bill, so if anyone knows who he is please do let me know, as he was great and I’d like to hear more) was playing some folky, melodic stuff which we enjoyed. We also caught some of Cesar Bodey, who carried on like a trouper despite some technical issues (which sound man Steve did his best to remedy) and a sore arm!
Then we heard Shaun Brussels’ set. This young man is already practically a guitar virtuoso… and he’s just fourteen! If there’s any fairness in the music industry you’ll be hearing this young man’s name quite a bit in future.
Then it was us! This was the first gig this summer for which we’d decided to go piano-less. We do open mics sans piano, of course, as lugging around a keyboard on the ‘bus is a pretty hefty task if you’re only going to be playing two or three songs, but this was a full set. As such, we took the decision not to play our piano ballad Sally, to change Millbrook to ukulele and glockenspiel, and not to add in any of our “oldie” type piano covers.
We started with Bad Sitcom, then played our cover of 80s kids’ TV cartoon Mysterious Cities of Gold (and segued it into Gaudete). We followed with three folk songs in our own arrangements back to back; Scarborough Fair, The Stonecutter’s Boy and Let No Man Steal Your Thyme. After that, we played the first of two 90s dance songs in a folky style; Set You Free. There followed two originals; Millbrook and Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed).
Finally, for the first time live, we played the second folky-cover-of-a-90s-dance-tune of the day, our take on Ebeneezer Goode, on mandolin and ukulele with me singing the rap rubato, and Marc joining me on vocal harmonies for the chorus. We can honestly say without boasting that it seemed to go down an absolute treat. And then that was that, it was a wrap from us. Diane had some nice words for us about our forthcoming wedding and we left the stage.
It was interesting that about half way through our set, the crowd suddenly doubled in size. Much as I’d like to tell you it was all our fans coming to see us, it seemed what had happened was that over on the rock stage there was a big break while a band with a huge set up got ready, and so people drifted over towards the bandstand. However, the majority of them seemed to stay, so we must have been tuneful enough to keep at least part of a more rock-oriented crowd, which is quite pleasing.
After us was our friend Will Barnes who played a fantastic set. I’ve seen many of Will’s gigs over the past couple of years; Will’s always been a talented musician but more recently his intra-set banter has become an integral part of his set too. Also he opened one of his songs with the first lines of one of our songs, and another of his songs with a bit of REM. Basically, Will was great, and he’s always gigging around St. Helens and Liverpool, and you should make an effort to go and see him.
Then came Billy & John, acoustic folk duo, with a set consisting mainly of originals … and the second mandolin of the day! Fantastic stuff. Following them was Paul Atherton, who’d brought an exuberant crowd with him. Who knew Amy McDonald’s Mr Rock and Roll could still work in such an anthemic style?
The day wound down with a very syncronised dance troupe, Connect (my son, who likes that sort of thing, was mesmerised), and then a set from Diane’s partner (who’s name I’ve forgotten - sorry ) who included a cover of Leadbelly’s Where Did You Sleep Last Night in his set. There was a little boy dancing on the bandstand throughout his set - I don’t think it was staged - pure spontaneity like that can’t be!
As we were packing up, performance poets The MadLads (formerly The Amigos) got up for an impromptu set which seemed to go down well with what was left of the crowd. They used to attend a poetry night I and a friend of mine put on in St. Helens a couple of years ago. I’d like to see them take a leaf out of the book of some other comedy poets now, and really perform their rhymes. Stuart Kenyon in particular has some wistful, intelligent verse and it’s great to see his delivery catching up with that.
All in all it was a fantastic day. Once again we got to meet up with some people who we’d only known previously on twitter, including Mike Ashworth and Lynn Gerrard. We also saw Andy Bowden, one time mayor of St. Helens, watching our set; later he said on twitter that it was (Ebeneezer) Good(e). A chap from the paper came to take our picture, so you never know, we could be in there this Thursday, although I imagine he took pretty much everyone’s picture so who knows.
Whatever happens though, it was a great gig; we loved all the music and performances going on at the bandstand. In some ways it’s a shame we couldn’t get to the other stage to have a listen but you can’t be in two places at once, and where we were had such a lot to offer.
Huge thanks to all the organisers, especially Vikki who had put a herculean amount of effort into ensuring this was such a fantastic event despite adverse weather (there was a storm the night before the Big Busk, and the morning saw heavy, pelting rain) and being poorly herself. I really hope she manages to get some rest now; there’s no one deserves it more right now!
Anyway, officially at any rate, that was our last gig of the summer; we hope you enjoyed it! We’ll probably do an open mic or two between now and September but aside from that we’re concentrating on organising our biggest gig ever; our wedding! Watch out for us in autumn though…
[Our “what have we learned from this gig?” feature will have a post all of its own! Keep an eye out on the blog…]
Saturday, 12 July 2014
Liverpool Acoustic afternoon in the View Two Gallery, Saturday 12th July
We’ve just got back from a fantastic afternoon playing a set and listening to some talented musicians at Liverpool’s gorgeous View Two Gallery on Mathew Street.
Despite thinking we were going to arrive late (due to a prior commitment, and also due to the trains being off) we actually got there quite a bit earlier than planned, which was fab, as we got to have a little tinkle on the ivories (yes, View Two has a grand piano) while Graham and Stuart set up, and also have a look at some of the art work.
Then came the musicians; first up was Caitlin Gilligan in a fabulous hat with some fabulous finger plucked melodies, two originals and a cover of Bob Dylan’s Girl from the North Country. She was followed by the Southbound Attic Band whose beautifully sung tale of childhood sweethearts made Ruth cry (and she probably wasn’t the only one). Lucy Mayhew followed on with some delightful playing including a Fleetwood Mac cover (we’re always partial to a bit of Fleetwood Mac), then came Derek King with a couple of songs including an intelligent lyrical take on an argument.
Then it was our turn!
We started our set with our piano ballad celebrating female friendship, Sally, then our ukulele duet about marital discord and poorly written female comedy characters, Bad Sitcom, next came our song about what ice cream vans really sell in winter in Kirkby, Millbrook, which we followed with our a-cappella arrangement of folk classic Let No Man Steal Your Thyme, and then our current single, Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed). Finally, we had a bit of time left so we decided to perform a cover; our take on the theme from 1980s kids’ cartoon, Mysterious Cities of Gold (the eagle-eared amongst the audience will have noticed we finished the song by seguing into the opening bars of Gaudete. Come and see us at a Christmas gig and we’ll play you the whole thing).
We enjoyed playing our set, but it was a relief to sit back down too (and finally grab a coffee; we’d been on the water up until that point).
There then followed a set by Rob Jones and Rob White, who had a real Simon and Garfunkel vibe going on, with perhaps a touch of Half Man Half Biscuit about some of the lyrics. They were also kind enough to give us a CD which we’ll be putting on at some point tomorrow for a spot of Sunday listening.
Finally, sound man Stuart, also known as Three Minute Hero, played a short set including a song with a sad, lilting tune but a message of hope, The Tomorrow People.
We really enjoyed the entire afternoon. The standard was very high, and we felt honoured to be in such talented company. We’d love to go back again; the gallery is gorgeous, the sound is great and the staff are really friendly. Special thanks to Graham for organising and compering the event (and for inviting us), and to Stuart for helping create such fab sound.
EDITED TO ADD:
Yesterday, when we wrote this, Ruth was in the early stages of a migraine and we were both knackered and so it was we forgot to do our usual spiel about What We Have Learned From This Gig.
We’ve chatted loads about this today and a few things have come out of our discussion. The standard at this event was really high and yet we didn’t feel as though we were out of our depth, which isn’t meant to sound arrogant, but rather as testament to how far we’ve come since we started out (as carollers, in December 2012). That said, we also talked about how we must not become complacent. The music scene in Merseyside at the moment is really buzzing and there is so much talent around that if we don’t keep ourselves fresh, practiced and focused, we’ll stagnate and get left behind.
We also talked - again - about covers. Yesterday we threw one cover into our set, as mentioned above. However, fun though Mysterious Cities of Gold is, it’s perhaps a bit obscure; in a larger crowd, you can guarantee there will be a group of people who will recognise even a cult cover, but if performing a cover at an intimate gig it might be wise to stick with something a bit more well-known. That said, it’s a gorgeous tune in its own right so… we’re still undecided.
Despite thinking we were going to arrive late (due to a prior commitment, and also due to the trains being off) we actually got there quite a bit earlier than planned, which was fab, as we got to have a little tinkle on the ivories (yes, View Two has a grand piano) while Graham and Stuart set up, and also have a look at some of the art work.
Then came the musicians; first up was Caitlin Gilligan in a fabulous hat with some fabulous finger plucked melodies, two originals and a cover of Bob Dylan’s Girl from the North Country. She was followed by the Southbound Attic Band whose beautifully sung tale of childhood sweethearts made Ruth cry (and she probably wasn’t the only one). Lucy Mayhew followed on with some delightful playing including a Fleetwood Mac cover (we’re always partial to a bit of Fleetwood Mac), then came Derek King with a couple of songs including an intelligent lyrical take on an argument.
Then it was our turn!
We started our set with our piano ballad celebrating female friendship, Sally, then our ukulele duet about marital discord and poorly written female comedy characters, Bad Sitcom, next came our song about what ice cream vans really sell in winter in Kirkby, Millbrook, which we followed with our a-cappella arrangement of folk classic Let No Man Steal Your Thyme, and then our current single, Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed). Finally, we had a bit of time left so we decided to perform a cover; our take on the theme from 1980s kids’ cartoon, Mysterious Cities of Gold (the eagle-eared amongst the audience will have noticed we finished the song by seguing into the opening bars of Gaudete. Come and see us at a Christmas gig and we’ll play you the whole thing).
We enjoyed playing our set, but it was a relief to sit back down too (and finally grab a coffee; we’d been on the water up until that point).
There then followed a set by Rob Jones and Rob White, who had a real Simon and Garfunkel vibe going on, with perhaps a touch of Half Man Half Biscuit about some of the lyrics. They were also kind enough to give us a CD which we’ll be putting on at some point tomorrow for a spot of Sunday listening.
Finally, sound man Stuart, also known as Three Minute Hero, played a short set including a song with a sad, lilting tune but a message of hope, The Tomorrow People.
We really enjoyed the entire afternoon. The standard was very high, and we felt honoured to be in such talented company. We’d love to go back again; the gallery is gorgeous, the sound is great and the staff are really friendly. Special thanks to Graham for organising and compering the event (and for inviting us), and to Stuart for helping create such fab sound.
EDITED TO ADD:
Yesterday, when we wrote this, Ruth was in the early stages of a migraine and we were both knackered and so it was we forgot to do our usual spiel about What We Have Learned From This Gig.
We’ve chatted loads about this today and a few things have come out of our discussion. The standard at this event was really high and yet we didn’t feel as though we were out of our depth, which isn’t meant to sound arrogant, but rather as testament to how far we’ve come since we started out (as carollers, in December 2012). That said, we also talked about how we must not become complacent. The music scene in Merseyside at the moment is really buzzing and there is so much talent around that if we don’t keep ourselves fresh, practiced and focused, we’ll stagnate and get left behind.
We also talked - again - about covers. Yesterday we threw one cover into our set, as mentioned above. However, fun though Mysterious Cities of Gold is, it’s perhaps a bit obscure; in a larger crowd, you can guarantee there will be a group of people who will recognise even a cult cover, but if performing a cover at an intimate gig it might be wise to stick with something a bit more well-known. That said, it’s a gorgeous tune in its own right so… we’re still undecided.
Thursday, 10 July 2014
Last night (Thursday 10th July) at the Brink open mic, by Ruth
I don’t half love the Brink. Partly this is because the Brink is a dry bar, and I drink about once in a blue moon, so it’s great to go somewhere where everyone else is as sober as me, but that’s far from being the main reason. The Brink really is one of the friendliest places in town. It’s really family-friendly too; whenever I take my son there he loves it. There’s always some interesting artwork up on the walls too, plus a great selection of books to read if you’re at a loose end after you’ve done the shopping. There is always something on that looks interesting (one day I’ll get to one of those Beatroot events they have on, although I confess I’d be going more for the music than the health food lecture) including a rave night (whoever came up with the idea of a rave where you can have a sit down and a nice cup of tea, then leave to go home at eleven, is a GENIUS. Over thirties and/or people with children have been crying out for this for ages). There’s the food, which is gorgeous (and the Sunday roast is in a league of its own). And of course there’s the weekly open mic.
There’s such a great vibe at these open mics that we chose to announce our engagement at the one back in March. Really welcoming, and very little in the way of ego, too; established musicians play alongside first timers; poets and rappers mingle and it all takes place on a really well-equipped stage with excellent sound.
Last night was particularly busy, as first up, there were a bunch of people from Crisis having come down en masse to perform a mix of poetry and music. Hard to pick a favourite, and they were all on in quick succession so I didn’t get chance to get everyone’s name but the chap who particularly stood out to me was a rapper who, just when everyone thought he’d finished his piece, got back up for a second with absolutely pelting word-perfect delivery. Brilliant! It was great to hear some of Lee de Pablo’s poetry too (his Mum taught me in my first senior school) and maybe next time he’ll read it himself? There was a woman who had written an absolutely amazing song, despite, as she said, not being a singer. Its blend of really dark humour (“you’re all gonna die”) and post-apocalyptic proclamations about the digital age were absolutely fantastic. It seems as though almost everyone from the group had to leave before the end, which is a shame as I would have liked to have chatted and found out a bit more about their various pieces; maybe they’ll come again?
It’s great when there’s a mix of poetry and music at events like these, and another poet who stood out was a fella who read two really moving pieces which flowed between poetry and rap; David Barnicle (the host) said he’d been trying to get him to read for ages and I’m glad he did; amazing stuff.
Musicians included David himself, who played three songs including one of my favourites Some People Are (which for some reasons seems to have disappeared off Soundcloud, but other songs are available). Gary Maginnis and the Like performed some songs with David on the Brink’s sparkly new drum kit, including the poignant Blood. Some of their songs had a kind of Americana vibe which worked well with Gary’s Irish lilt. I have a feeling I’ve seen Gary perform solo at an open mic event in the Walker Art Gallery actually, with more of a folky feel, but I could be completely wrong and misrepresenting the poor lad in which case I apologise!
Dave Miller delighted everyone with his … what to call them; accompanied soundscapes? I can’t find an example online so you’ll just have to make do with that description.
We played a handful of songs, including our single, Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed). David took a photograph which hopefully I’m okay to use here (if not, I’m sure he’ll let me know) of us playing Millbrook.
Before I tell you about my highlight of the evening, I’d like to say I’m sorry to anyone I’ve missed out. Thing is, I didn’t come with the intention of writing about the gig (if I had, I would have brought a pencil and paper) but to listen, and with so many excellent performances, I was listening very much ‘in the moment’ rather than making mental notes. That’s the problem witn any open mic event of course; it goes so quickly with so many different performances that sometimes you forget names and then when you want to look someone up… you can’t! But it’s also its beauty of course; it’s like tapas, or a smorgasbord, each different taste experienced and gone before you can blink.
Anyway. Everyone was great, but the absolute highlight of an already-wonderful evening for me was hearing Laura and Claire, two young women who play guitars and harmonise together beautifully. Now, full disclosure, Laura runs the new music show on Halton Community Radio, which is how I knew of her; she’d played our single a couple of weeks back. But I promise this isn’t the reason I liked her duo; they really were amazing. They reminded me a little of another local duo, Just By Chance (who I also first saw at the Brink), with their close harmony vibe, and that similar feel that you get when you see two people perform together and you know they get on like a house on fire off stage too. Anyway, fantastic arrangements and really, really ‘listenable’, too. Okay, it’s not a word, but you know when you see a new-to-you band live and you think, “I would totally buy a CD and put it on while I was cooking and then probably burn the tea because of being caught up in the music “? Well, that. I’d like to see/hear this pair play again.
But that said, everyone was great (I’d like to think we were pretty good too) and it was a fabulous evening. But as you know now we never do a gig where we don’t learn something and in fact, I had something of an epiphany.
I constantly compare us - especially me, and my voice - to other musicians, and it usually brings me down. In fact, I’ve sat in gigs before and thought, “god, they’re so much better than us, so much better than me, who is going to want to listen to my voice after hearing them?” Last night I realised that not only is this a fast track route to misery, but I realised something else too. Our sound is all ours. There are lots of things we (me especially) are still learning but if we didn’t play live ever until we were absolute virtuosos on all our instruments, we’d never play at all. There is always room for improvement, and I practise every day, but together, as Moss & Jones, we have a unique sound which quite a few people seem to really like.
As for my voice… well, voices are such personal things aren’t they? And instead of spending my time wishing I sounded like Sandy Denny / Kate Bush / Jacqui McShee / Isobel Campbell, I am starting to accept and even like the fact I sound like me. The important thing is to keep practising (for example, taking breaths in the right places so I can really belt out those long, high notes when they come along, multi-tasking so I can sing perfectly in tune even when I’m concentrating on the glockenspiel, and learning the difference between challenging myself, and setting myself an impossible task).
So: a great open mic night at the Brink then. Our next gig is this Saturday at Liverpool’s View Two Gallery on Mathew Street, for Liverpool Acoustic, and after that, we’re performing at St. Helens’ Big Busk event in Victoria Park on City Road. Come along to one or both! They’re free to attend.
There’s such a great vibe at these open mics that we chose to announce our engagement at the one back in March. Really welcoming, and very little in the way of ego, too; established musicians play alongside first timers; poets and rappers mingle and it all takes place on a really well-equipped stage with excellent sound.
Last night was particularly busy, as first up, there were a bunch of people from Crisis having come down en masse to perform a mix of poetry and music. Hard to pick a favourite, and they were all on in quick succession so I didn’t get chance to get everyone’s name but the chap who particularly stood out to me was a rapper who, just when everyone thought he’d finished his piece, got back up for a second with absolutely pelting word-perfect delivery. Brilliant! It was great to hear some of Lee de Pablo’s poetry too (his Mum taught me in my first senior school) and maybe next time he’ll read it himself? There was a woman who had written an absolutely amazing song, despite, as she said, not being a singer. Its blend of really dark humour (“you’re all gonna die”) and post-apocalyptic proclamations about the digital age were absolutely fantastic. It seems as though almost everyone from the group had to leave before the end, which is a shame as I would have liked to have chatted and found out a bit more about their various pieces; maybe they’ll come again?
It’s great when there’s a mix of poetry and music at events like these, and another poet who stood out was a fella who read two really moving pieces which flowed between poetry and rap; David Barnicle (the host) said he’d been trying to get him to read for ages and I’m glad he did; amazing stuff.
Musicians included David himself, who played three songs including one of my favourites Some People Are (which for some reasons seems to have disappeared off Soundcloud, but other songs are available). Gary Maginnis and the Like performed some songs with David on the Brink’s sparkly new drum kit, including the poignant Blood. Some of their songs had a kind of Americana vibe which worked well with Gary’s Irish lilt. I have a feeling I’ve seen Gary perform solo at an open mic event in the Walker Art Gallery actually, with more of a folky feel, but I could be completely wrong and misrepresenting the poor lad in which case I apologise!
Dave Miller delighted everyone with his … what to call them; accompanied soundscapes? I can’t find an example online so you’ll just have to make do with that description.
We played a handful of songs, including our single, Shepherd’s Delight (It’s Not Time To Go To Bed). David took a photograph which hopefully I’m okay to use here (if not, I’m sure he’ll let me know) of us playing Millbrook.
Before I tell you about my highlight of the evening, I’d like to say I’m sorry to anyone I’ve missed out. Thing is, I didn’t come with the intention of writing about the gig (if I had, I would have brought a pencil and paper) but to listen, and with so many excellent performances, I was listening very much ‘in the moment’ rather than making mental notes. That’s the problem witn any open mic event of course; it goes so quickly with so many different performances that sometimes you forget names and then when you want to look someone up… you can’t! But it’s also its beauty of course; it’s like tapas, or a smorgasbord, each different taste experienced and gone before you can blink.
Anyway. Everyone was great, but the absolute highlight of an already-wonderful evening for me was hearing Laura and Claire, two young women who play guitars and harmonise together beautifully. Now, full disclosure, Laura runs the new music show on Halton Community Radio, which is how I knew of her; she’d played our single a couple of weeks back. But I promise this isn’t the reason I liked her duo; they really were amazing. They reminded me a little of another local duo, Just By Chance (who I also first saw at the Brink), with their close harmony vibe, and that similar feel that you get when you see two people perform together and you know they get on like a house on fire off stage too. Anyway, fantastic arrangements and really, really ‘listenable’, too. Okay, it’s not a word, but you know when you see a new-to-you band live and you think, “I would totally buy a CD and put it on while I was cooking and then probably burn the tea because of being caught up in the music “? Well, that. I’d like to see/hear this pair play again.
But that said, everyone was great (I’d like to think we were pretty good too) and it was a fabulous evening. But as you know now we never do a gig where we don’t learn something and in fact, I had something of an epiphany.
I constantly compare us - especially me, and my voice - to other musicians, and it usually brings me down. In fact, I’ve sat in gigs before and thought, “god, they’re so much better than us, so much better than me, who is going to want to listen to my voice after hearing them?” Last night I realised that not only is this a fast track route to misery, but I realised something else too. Our sound is all ours. There are lots of things we (me especially) are still learning but if we didn’t play live ever until we were absolute virtuosos on all our instruments, we’d never play at all. There is always room for improvement, and I practise every day, but together, as Moss & Jones, we have a unique sound which quite a few people seem to really like.
As for my voice… well, voices are such personal things aren’t they? And instead of spending my time wishing I sounded like Sandy Denny / Kate Bush / Jacqui McShee / Isobel Campbell, I am starting to accept and even like the fact I sound like me. The important thing is to keep practising (for example, taking breaths in the right places so I can really belt out those long, high notes when they come along, multi-tasking so I can sing perfectly in tune even when I’m concentrating on the glockenspiel, and learning the difference between challenging myself, and setting myself an impossible task).
So: a great open mic night at the Brink then. Our next gig is this Saturday at Liverpool’s View Two Gallery on Mathew Street, for Liverpool Acoustic, and after that, we’re performing at St. Helens’ Big Busk event in Victoria Park on City Road. Come along to one or both! They’re free to attend.
Tuesday, 1 July 2014
Ruth asks you to help save Liverpool's amazing Bombed Out Church
I was born in Liverpool, but I grew up a twenty minute train ride away in Kirkby. As such, the Bombed Out Church didn’t really figure on my radar as a child; trips into town were largely confined to the very centre of the city and my overriding childhood memories are of Blacklers’ basement, Lees buttery and the chandeliers in BHS.
As a teenager though, when I started going into town by myself or with mates, I was either hanging around in or outside the School Lane Quiggins, or wandering up and down Bold Street, and so it was that I first wondered what that weird locked up church with no roof was at the top of Bold Street. Fast forward a few years to university (I stayed at home and went to Liverpool uni. Yet I still got a grant. The olden days, ay?) and me and a couple of friends managed to sneak into the gardens, though we couldn’t get into the mysterious building itself.
A few years later, after a stint in London followed by a return to Merseyside, the church was still locked up and looked pretty inaccessible. The steps, on the other hand, were a fantastic landmark to meet friends in the days where still not all of us had mobile phones, and those of us who did were forever running out of credit.
In fact, I didn’t go into the church itself until my son was a new baby, seven years ago. I didn’t realise it at the time, but it had been transformed by Ambrose Reynolds and Urban Strawberry Lunch, in an incredibly hands-on (like, cleaning human faeces out of the pond, getting rid of rats, clearing away needles, that kind of hands-on) way.
The first actual gig I attended there was a CND gig, back in 2009. I’d not long left my then-husband and I wanted to get out more. I think Tony Kehoe (who runs the Egg Café open mic) might have done a set, but I’m not sure because I was so busy running about after my little one to stop him exploring in the pond that I can’t remember much else!
That was the first of many events I’d attend in this wonderful setting.
One of my favourite ever events there was going to see a really old black and white film of Carols from Kings, on the winter solstice of 2011, with my then-pretty-new boyfriend. We sat on bails of hay and watched the film with its candles, songs, and yawning choirboys, and were astounded at how warm it was for that time of year.
There is something of a festival vibe to any event in St. Luke’s, but beyond the fact of listening to music - or whatever it is you’re doing - in an outdoor setting. It’s about the way that you can connect with people there in a way that just a few meters away, outside, you can’t. Of course, we chat to strangers in ‘bus stops and in shops and exchange pleasantries about the weather, but in St. Luke’s it feels almost like you’ve been transported into another realm. There you are, watching a performance of some kind, or getting involved in an activity, inside what’s essentially a cross between a church and a park, and yet you’re at the top of one of Liverpool’s busiest shopping streets… and yet again, you wouldn’t know it. You could be anywhere; you could be in San Francisco, Paris, Amsterdam or faeryland … or nowhere, a place removed from the universe itself, where time seems to slow down and prejudices seem to melt away. It’s magical.
I realise this sounds like hyperbole. No such thing as magic, is there? Get this though; not long after my divorce had finally come through I said to my bezzie mate, “nah, I’ll never get married again. Unless I can do it in the Bombed Out Church,” as a kind of a joke. Well, remember the chap I mentioned a few paragraphs ago? This September, we’re marrying each other, in the Bombed Out Church.
That same boyfriend is also my musical partner. We gig around town and in St. Helens (where we live) as Moss & Jones, performing folky originals and imaginative, fun covers. We started out in 2012 as a pair of carollers, and took it from there. It had long been our dream to gig in the Bombed Out Church, and early this year we contacted them, tentatively, to ask if it would be possible. Imagine our delight when we got a yes! The gig was arranged for the end of May, but between arranging it and the gig happening, we, like everyone else, heard the bad news that St. Luke’s was - well, no one seemed entirely sure what was happening, except that various people wanted to take this amazing place and either turn it into an hotel, a food hub or pave it over and install a Starbucks.
None of these things seemed to allow the possibility of gigs, events, concerts, films, yoga/tai chi/meditation and so on continuing. None of these things seemed to take into account the fact St. Luke’s is also a war memorial, and a lasting monument to those in Liverpool who lived through, or died in, the Blitz.
In the end, our gig went ahead, and we even got asked back for a second. We were incredibly privileged to be able to perform in this amazing setting not just once, but twice.
We’re hoping we’ll get asked back again at some point; maybe we could come back in the winter and do a full carol concert?
At the moment, Ambrose and his coterie of wonderful helpers keep the church open regularly, relying solely on donations from the public since the council’s funding has been cut. Given that people can access the church for as little as just a pound (not that there’s anything wrong with this; it’s lovely it’s so accessible and that’s part of its charm. In fact, I understand that on occasion the fee has been waived for people who genuinely cannot afford it, with payment made instead in the form of odd jobs, such as watering the plants), you can “do the math” and see that this state of affairs isn’t sustainable.
This is why they’ve set up a crowdfunding project. If they raise the money it will go towards the many repairs needed to keep the church going, and also towards helping keep the church open in bad weather, drawing in more people. In fact, considering the sheer amount of work that needs to be done, it’s impressive that they’ll manage to bring it in for £18,000, the amount they’re hoping to raise.
When the Bombed Out Church was first under threat, there was a petition to save it; it got over 30,000 signatures. If everyone who signed the petition put in just a quid they’d have smashed their target. But signing something is a lot easier than putting your hand in your pocket, it seems, and with just a few weeks to go, the Bombie is still quite some way off its target. I’m not entirely sure why this would be, but maybe people don’t realise that if they don’t meet their target, crowdfunder will give everyone their money back. What does this mean for the Bombed Out Church? Well, no more gigs. No more immersive theatre. No more Qi Gong. No more Blitz Exhibitions. No more handfastings or quirky wedding celebration. No more 96 Footballs. No more stepping off the street and entering what feels like another world.
Just another building. If you don’t want this for the Bombed Out Church than go and donate right away! The lovely thing about Crowdfunder is that you actually get a gift if you donate anything £2 or over, from a shout out on their Facebook page to a guided tour, and more (we’ve bought a brick). It’s a fairly simple process; if you’ve ever bought anything from the internet you’ll be comfortable donating online; you can use your card (no additional charge) or paypal (a small additional charge, but it saves them from incurring the charge, so that’s good).
And if you really honestly truly do not have £2 to spare, and there have been times in my life when that’s been the case, then get the word out. Blog about this, tweet about it {copy and paste this link: http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/bombed-out-church}, put it on Facebook, reblog this tumblr post, get yourself on WhatsApp and send the link to all your mates, post something on snapchat… over and over again until people get the message; this place is unique, and YOU can be one of the people that saves it. Imagine being that person?
As a teenager though, when I started going into town by myself or with mates, I was either hanging around in or outside the School Lane Quiggins, or wandering up and down Bold Street, and so it was that I first wondered what that weird locked up church with no roof was at the top of Bold Street. Fast forward a few years to university (I stayed at home and went to Liverpool uni. Yet I still got a grant. The olden days, ay?) and me and a couple of friends managed to sneak into the gardens, though we couldn’t get into the mysterious building itself.
A few years later, after a stint in London followed by a return to Merseyside, the church was still locked up and looked pretty inaccessible. The steps, on the other hand, were a fantastic landmark to meet friends in the days where still not all of us had mobile phones, and those of us who did were forever running out of credit.
In fact, I didn’t go into the church itself until my son was a new baby, seven years ago. I didn’t realise it at the time, but it had been transformed by Ambrose Reynolds and Urban Strawberry Lunch, in an incredibly hands-on (like, cleaning human faeces out of the pond, getting rid of rats, clearing away needles, that kind of hands-on) way.
The first actual gig I attended there was a CND gig, back in 2009. I’d not long left my then-husband and I wanted to get out more. I think Tony Kehoe (who runs the Egg Café open mic) might have done a set, but I’m not sure because I was so busy running about after my little one to stop him exploring in the pond that I can’t remember much else!
That was the first of many events I’d attend in this wonderful setting.
One of my favourite ever events there was going to see a really old black and white film of Carols from Kings, on the winter solstice of 2011, with my then-pretty-new boyfriend. We sat on bails of hay and watched the film with its candles, songs, and yawning choirboys, and were astounded at how warm it was for that time of year.
There is something of a festival vibe to any event in St. Luke’s, but beyond the fact of listening to music - or whatever it is you’re doing - in an outdoor setting. It’s about the way that you can connect with people there in a way that just a few meters away, outside, you can’t. Of course, we chat to strangers in ‘bus stops and in shops and exchange pleasantries about the weather, but in St. Luke’s it feels almost like you’ve been transported into another realm. There you are, watching a performance of some kind, or getting involved in an activity, inside what’s essentially a cross between a church and a park, and yet you’re at the top of one of Liverpool’s busiest shopping streets… and yet again, you wouldn’t know it. You could be anywhere; you could be in San Francisco, Paris, Amsterdam or faeryland … or nowhere, a place removed from the universe itself, where time seems to slow down and prejudices seem to melt away. It’s magical.
I realise this sounds like hyperbole. No such thing as magic, is there? Get this though; not long after my divorce had finally come through I said to my bezzie mate, “nah, I’ll never get married again. Unless I can do it in the Bombed Out Church,” as a kind of a joke. Well, remember the chap I mentioned a few paragraphs ago? This September, we’re marrying each other, in the Bombed Out Church.
That same boyfriend is also my musical partner. We gig around town and in St. Helens (where we live) as Moss & Jones, performing folky originals and imaginative, fun covers. We started out in 2012 as a pair of carollers, and took it from there. It had long been our dream to gig in the Bombed Out Church, and early this year we contacted them, tentatively, to ask if it would be possible. Imagine our delight when we got a yes! The gig was arranged for the end of May, but between arranging it and the gig happening, we, like everyone else, heard the bad news that St. Luke’s was - well, no one seemed entirely sure what was happening, except that various people wanted to take this amazing place and either turn it into an hotel, a food hub or pave it over and install a Starbucks.
None of these things seemed to allow the possibility of gigs, events, concerts, films, yoga/tai chi/meditation and so on continuing. None of these things seemed to take into account the fact St. Luke’s is also a war memorial, and a lasting monument to those in Liverpool who lived through, or died in, the Blitz.
In the end, our gig went ahead, and we even got asked back for a second. We were incredibly privileged to be able to perform in this amazing setting not just once, but twice.
We’re hoping we’ll get asked back again at some point; maybe we could come back in the winter and do a full carol concert?
At the moment, Ambrose and his coterie of wonderful helpers keep the church open regularly, relying solely on donations from the public since the council’s funding has been cut. Given that people can access the church for as little as just a pound (not that there’s anything wrong with this; it’s lovely it’s so accessible and that’s part of its charm. In fact, I understand that on occasion the fee has been waived for people who genuinely cannot afford it, with payment made instead in the form of odd jobs, such as watering the plants), you can “do the math” and see that this state of affairs isn’t sustainable.
This is why they’ve set up a crowdfunding project. If they raise the money it will go towards the many repairs needed to keep the church going, and also towards helping keep the church open in bad weather, drawing in more people. In fact, considering the sheer amount of work that needs to be done, it’s impressive that they’ll manage to bring it in for £18,000, the amount they’re hoping to raise.
When the Bombed Out Church was first under threat, there was a petition to save it; it got over 30,000 signatures. If everyone who signed the petition put in just a quid they’d have smashed their target. But signing something is a lot easier than putting your hand in your pocket, it seems, and with just a few weeks to go, the Bombie is still quite some way off its target. I’m not entirely sure why this would be, but maybe people don’t realise that if they don’t meet their target, crowdfunder will give everyone their money back. What does this mean for the Bombed Out Church? Well, no more gigs. No more immersive theatre. No more Qi Gong. No more Blitz Exhibitions. No more handfastings or quirky wedding celebration. No more 96 Footballs. No more stepping off the street and entering what feels like another world.
Just another building. If you don’t want this for the Bombed Out Church than go and donate right away! The lovely thing about Crowdfunder is that you actually get a gift if you donate anything £2 or over, from a shout out on their Facebook page to a guided tour, and more (we’ve bought a brick). It’s a fairly simple process; if you’ve ever bought anything from the internet you’ll be comfortable donating online; you can use your card (no additional charge) or paypal (a small additional charge, but it saves them from incurring the charge, so that’s good).
And if you really honestly truly do not have £2 to spare, and there have been times in my life when that’s been the case, then get the word out. Blog about this, tweet about it {copy and paste this link: http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/bombed-out-church}, put it on Facebook, reblog this tumblr post, get yourself on WhatsApp and send the link to all your mates, post something on snapchat… over and over again until people get the message; this place is unique, and YOU can be one of the people that saves it. Imagine being that person?
Sunday, 11 May 2014
Gig alert! We play LIverpool's Bombed Out Church on Sunday 25th May
Do you like any, all, or a combination of these?
- Warm, cheerful, quirky original songs
- Folk music
- Imaginative covers that put a new spin on the original
- A variety of instruments, including (but not solely): piano, glockenspiel, ukulele
- Two singers; a lady and a chap
- Family-friendly outdoor(ish) events
- Bringing a picnic
- Paying just a quid to get in (on the door; no ticket required)
- Knowing that quid is going to Liverpool’s Bombed Out Church?
If you’re bringing kids, be aware that they will need some supervision (especially crawling babies and toddlers) as there is a little pond in the middle. However, please don’t worry about them having to be quiet or sit still during performances. If they’re in school, they’ll have enough of that there! We don’t want kids to associate music with “boring”; if they want to run around (provided someone’s keeping an eye on them so they’re safe, as it is, after all, a ruin!) and make a bit of noise, that’s absolutely fine. We’ll even sing a lullaby if any of them are tired!
There are steps (as you’ll probably know if you’ve had Silent Sleep’s “meet me on the steps of the Bombed Out Church” as an earworm), so if you’re struggling to get up them, let us know and we’ll see if we can assist. (That said, we’re not insured to carry prams up stairs, we just like to be helpful. It’d be “at your own risk”.)
If you’d like any more information about the gig, you can see our Facebook page, follow us on twitter, or email us: mossandjones [at] gmail [dot] com.
If you want an idea of the kind of music we do, have a listen to our soundcloud or bandcamp pages.
Please reblog, retweet and share away! Thank you very much!
Moss & Jones (Ruth & Marc)
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