Dave "Battenburg" Dawson......

Last week saw another live gig by Miles Hunt and Erica Nockalls to promote Mr Hunts new solo album "Not an exit". As usual, a fine performance which has a tendency to restore my faith in humankind just long enough to get me to the next live event.

When Milo does a solo tour it usually includes a stop off at the Half Moon in Putney, that means it's a local gig.... which in turn allows me to get horribly drunk and to revel in Mr Hunts creations.

Now, Miles is well known for his banter between songs, sometimes he explains the story behind the song, sometimes not.... it can be a lottery. What you don't expect is to hear your name mentioned with regard to one of his songs, which is what happened last week.

Unfortunately, I'd past the point of being attentive to what was being said and missed the gist of why I'd been named.

The song I'd been linked to was "The Cake", a title on the new album...... Thank heavens it wasnt "Size of a cow". I didnt have time after the gig to ask what the connection is as Milo was busy signing stuff and I had a lift to catch.... anyhow, whatever the connection, its bloody great being associated with anything that fella produces.

I 'ate you Butler

The original idea was that I "help" a mate with a few issues when it comes to drum fills and breaks. Should be easy enough, an hour on the throne and he'll be breaking around the kit like a pro. Seems teaching is a little more difficult, especially as Aaron (the fella in question) has the rhythm of a collapsing building..... which is a little ironic as from a distance it sounds like he's building a shed*

After several cups of tea it was decided that I'd stick around for the nights session. It came to pass that Aaron had borrowed a small....very very small mixing desk.... no not desk..... more post it pad sized thing along with two studio mics.

Considering that there were to be 2 guitars (bass and electric 6'er), drums, keyboards and two vocalists I decided to opt out of the logistics of gathering all those sounds together into something that resembled organised music. Eventually, when the stench of too many cooks had dispersed we were left with one spare singer and a keyboard without an amp. Apparently the only audience for the keyboard was to be the tape recorder as it seems it plays no role within the band.... don't ask

As it happened I had a bit of a hoot, there were times when bass, guitar and drums found that groove, enjoyed the surroundings, admired the swirlyness before being ejected into the street for groping some blokes squeeze by mistake..... I think its called being creative, sometimes you hit the nail on the head and other times you run screaming into the road hoping to be hit by a number 11 bus to the cemetery gates.

Now then, when I was in a band our "tapes" were kept very close to our chests, most 'cos they were bloody awful, but deep down, we knew we could do better. We'd keep them under wraps until we were tight and could maybe afford some recording time (although we never did).

Aaron decided to "release" them on t'internet. Said like that, it conjours up images of some endangered species being set free in the middle of nowhere, to live out the rest of its days unhindered by man's intervention. Unfortunately, this "tape" should of been corralled into a small area then humanly put to death, quietly and with as much dignity that can be mustered.

Of course I'm being very critical, every journey starts with a single step and this is very much a wobbly stumble across the lino. Who knows, with a little practice it may turn into a runner.

Anyhow, here's a link to the site.... but be careful, its a shocker. Scree


* Aaron. Don't be too upset about my criticisms. This is a blog and artistic licence is in play

I want to ride my bicycle

As you can see, SHE RIDES WITHOUT STABILISERS!!!

But best of all, she did it with her Daddy. Something she wont forget and will carry with her forever, as I will.

Of course she needs a few more hours in the saddle to help with stopping, starting and turning.... but apart from that, she'll be fine!

Water.....

I'm a product of the industrial 70's. I'm built from processed foods, crimpolene, terylene, artificial sweeteners and I probably contain more E numbers than a primary school's kitchen



My body has a half life of several thousand years and will continue to contaminate the water table for some time to come..... although I do seem to be dissolving from the inside out.... my hip and thyroid is one example and the other is currently blocking the lavatory back at the flat (sorry about that John*..... I attempted to tackle it this morning but as I approached it with the kitchen chair and the builders trowel I swear it growled at me!)

This of course has nothing to do with this post... well not much. You see, I just happened to come across a TV program some weeks ago that suggested Aspartame could be linked with the onset and continuation of arthritis, which is the diagnosis I've been given for my knackered hip.

So, I thought I'd attempt to remove this artificial sweetener from my diet...

That means not drinking anymore "diet" soft drinks (amongst other things of course). So, I was on water only..... I've never been fond of drinking water, I dont really like the taste.... and I've seen what fish do it in.... Then there's bottled water, which has too much of a poncy feeling about it... no, It'll have to be filtered tap water. UK tap water is about as pure as you can get, really..... I filter it cos of the fish thing. I know its irrational, but with the help of a Brita water filter I'm overcoming it.

You know, this chilled filtered tap water is quite nice, I do lapse occasionally and have the odd can of Pepsi Max, but not often. I've even been testing out some brands of Tea.... I'm currently drinking two types at the moment......Twinings Pure White Tea and a Ginger Herbal Tea... which is surprisingly tasty.

Next week I shall be experimenting with Yoga.







* John is my lodger, he rents a room from me. He is not my gay live in lover. If I was gay I'd pick someone much better looking (someone "scrummy")