For the second leg of our band’s nationwide tour we’ve employed a van for all our stuff, however it solely has three seats, so the remainder of us are following in two automobiles. We now have agreed that no adjustments can be made to the present, however midway to Bristol a revised set checklist seems on the band WhatsApp.
“The opposite automobile have swapped two songs out of the primary half into the second,” I say to the guitar participant, who is driving.
“Why have they executed that?” he says.
“Dunno,” I say. “Since when are they in cost?”
After the Bristol gig we agree that the brand new adjustments are working effectively, and needs to be locked in. When a second new set checklist seems on the band WhatsApp on the street to Exeter, I don’t query the authority of the opposite automobile, as a result of I’m within the different automobile.
“I don’t have an issue with that,” I say.
Already, the informal harm of touring is starting to take its toll. A guitar acquires mechanical issues it displayed no indicators of in Grantham. One of many microphones develops an ominous background thrum. Stuff will get left behind, and have to be both retrieved or forsaken.
On the way in which to the ultimate gig of the second leg, the guitarist and I are diverted again to Exeter to choose up the bass participant’s stage garments, which have been left within the dressing room. On the venue, somebody is dispatched to the bar workplace to fetch them whereas I wait.
“Good gig final evening?” asks the lady on the ticket desk.
“Yeah, I feel so,” I say, struggling to recollect something about it.
We’re heading north on the M5 when one other revised set checklist arrives through WhatsApp.
“The primary 4 songs at the moment are the final 4 songs,” I say, my cellphone.
“Attention-grabbing,” says the guitar participant.
“I don’t know who they suppose they’re in that different automobile,” I say.
Now operating late, we’re diminished to trying up fascinating details about our vacation spot: Tenbury Wells.
“It’s often known as the house of the Fortress Tump,” I say, “regardless that the tump is now in Burford.”
“They moved the tump?” he says.
“I feel they most likely moved Burford,” I say. “But it surely’s unclear.”
“Anything?” he says.
“The checklist of notable individuals from Tenbury,” I say, “accommodates no notable individuals.”
Solely after we arrive does it develop into clear that Tenbury can also be well-known for some footage recorded throughout Storm Bert of a tractor ploughing down its flooded excessive avenue, driving a bow wave of water into native companies alongside the size of the street.
“That was right here?” I say.
“That was proper on the market,” says the drummer.
Below the circumstances our opening music – which is about rain – may very well be seen as a provocation. Fortunately, the primary music is now not first.
Throughout the sound examine, an additional adjustment is usually recommended: that we transition from the brand new first music into the brand new second music with out a pause.
“That might work,” says the fiddle participant.
“I like that concept,” says the guitar participant.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” says the trumpet participant.
“Wait,” I say. Everybody turns to appears to be like at me.
“I play the primary music with my naked fingers,” I say, “and the second music with finger picks. I would like time in between to place my finger picks on.”
“How lengthy will that take?” says the guitar participant.
“Let’s discover out,” I say. I take away my finger picks and put them in my pocket. We play the final 4 bars of the primary music, which ends in a wash of cymbals. After a couple of seconds, the drummer counts off the second music, and everybody turns to search out me on all fours looking out the ground for the finger choose I dropped.
“We’d have to start out with the rain music in spite of everything,” I say. “Until … ”
I put down my banjo and dig by way of my bag till I discover an adjunct I’ve lengthy owned and by no means used: a plectrum holder that attaches to a microphone stand. As soon as it’s put in I can depart my three picks protruding of it, permitting them to be allotted instantly on to my fingers at will.
The subsequent morning as we depart the Travelodge, the fiddle participant’s spouse exhibits me cellphone footage of the gig.
“There aren’t any finger picks, after which immediately there are finger picks,” I say.
“It’s like a magic trick,” she says. “You may’t see it occurring.”
“And I can do that each gig, simple,” I say. “Besides.”
“Besides what?” she says.
“Besides I left that holder connected to the venue’s microphone stand.”
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