It’s been a funny few years. Until the self-inflicted implosion of my band of childhood friends a little over a decade ago I was used to a good little live schedule. A more or less monthly roster of venues… a small but dedicated band of followers… the occasional unforgettable night. But since then? It’s been a mixed bag. But – cautiously – I think I might be back. Five housepoints if you can spot what’s wrong with this picture.
Over the last 4-5 years I’ve joined a few bands. I was John Lennon in Beatles tribute, singer/guitarist in standard indie covers band, a singer in an indie originals band, a singer in an experimental art rock band and… finally… THE UP!
And, yes, I’m also playing bass.
It’s been a tortuous route to our first gig mind you – and it’s taken nearly THREE YEARS. A project launched under the auspices of ex Roller6ix frontman Scott ‘Float’ Fletcher, the original vision was essentially to bring back the 90s: bucket hats, Adidas tops, and a set of bangers from that much-missed decade of innocence – from Blur to Oasis, Shed Seven to the Stone Roses. We were going to do big ‘event’ gigs with tickets and a light show. We were Going To Be Huge.
So I only joined as a rhythm guitarist to fill out the sound and (really) just to get out of the house. The original line-up was pretty strong. Good rhythm section, excellent guitarist, great keyboardist, good singer and me to round things out with harmony vocals and strumming.
The problems came thick and fast. The PlandemicTM scuppered rehearsals. The keyboardist not only had a job, but also a baby. AND was running a pub. Hence he managed 1 in 3 rehearsals. The bassist came by bus -and hence he managed not many more. I found out I had another brain tumour.
Eventually the bassist and the keyboardist quit. We decided to fuck the idea of keyboards off and press on as a guitar-only outfit – leading to a Spinal Tap-esque parade of bassists. Horrible audition tapes came and went. Promising players turned up for rehearsal, sounded ace and then vanished into the ether. Others came and burst eardrums, or couldn’t actually play at all on closer inspection.
The final straw came when I joined the Plastic Beatles. With rehearsals for my acoustic act, rehearsals for the Beatles (and gigs for both!) rehearsals for The Up and the Great Unknown of my sparkling new brain tumour looming over every decision, something had to give. Reluctantly I decided that thing would be the Up, I handed in my notice and thus the experiment came to a crashing halt.
In truth? I think the writing was on the wall anyway. Float is one of the most genuine, Very Good Lads I’ve ever met… but as a bandleader he sat very high standards that realistically a bunch of amateur musicians in their middle years were never going to be able to reach. We were always either too loud, or too fast, or too slow or too sexy for whatever song we were trying, and bless him but Float couldn’t let us get through a song enough times to learn it.
There’s no criticism to that. It’s a bird’s bird. I’ve always figured you should just play through a song enough times and you’ll get it right eventually, but Scott was of the counter view that everyone should know the song and thus be able to play it more or less right from the start. And, of course, he was an extremely talented lad: he sang, played rhythm guitar, lead guitar, bass and drums. Little surprise that he could pick up on mistakes we were all making. But you know: that kind of drive for perfection can be wearing.
So I had a good 18 months with The Beatles. It was good to play the music that I loved. It was fun to wear a wig and wield a knock-of Rickenbacker and banter in a terrible scouse accent. It was good to play live. It was good to sing harmonies with a (fucking great) ‘McCartney.’
But that project too had troubles. When Ringo quit with days to spare before a gig, and the band drafted in a stand-in Lennon to match the Ringo, it rankled enough for me to quit. In truth, I was already mildly fucked off by various things inside the band and it.
But then, purely by coincidence… a voice from the past. Scott wanted to try again! Would I be interested?
While I had my doubts, I wasn’t doing anything else on a Tuesday other than pick my nose and browse porn so I thought “fuck it” and so The Up were reborn.
But time hadn’t solved any of the problems. We acquired a great keyboardist but that bass spot? STILL unfillable. Scott’s standards? Still too high. Rehearsals became sporadic. No progress was made. The bass slot remained empty.
Scott quit.
And we looked at ourselves. We had a singer (me) a guitarist (Den) a drummer and keyboardist. But guess what: I can play bass, to a degree. Fuck it.
And so over the last six months or so we’ve steadily worked away at things. Song by song. Most of the delay down to me – as singing and playing don’t come naturally.
And finally, on the 15th October, we appeared at last on stage. Rough? Yes. Ramshackle? Undoubtedly. Fumbling fingers? Check. My voice a little ragged. My bass playing 80% accurate.
But we’re here. And I’m back.
Setlist
- Green Onions: Booker T & The MGs
- Richard III: Supergrass
- The Seeker: The Who
- Saturn 5: Inspiral Carpets
- One to Another: The Charlatans
- Chasing Rainbows: Shed Seven
- Need Your Love So Bad: Fleetwood Mac
- The Wind Cries Mary: Jimi Hendrix Experience
- Baggy Trousers: Madness
- Gangsters: The Specials
- Stereotypes: Blur
- Hush: Kula Shaker
- Tin Solder: Small Faces
- Break on Through: The Doors
- There is a Light that Never Goes Out: The Smiths
- Waterfall: The Stone Roses
- All or Nothing: Small Faces