Dearest Barns and Little Hamptons
Thank you one and all for turning up to the penultimate Walsh gig of this year. For those not in the know, the evening took place at the Spectrum Club, run by a very clean man called Ross who I must thank for letting both myself and the band into the building. The club was quite clean too but not as clean as Ross (who was very clean).
We arrived at about 7.00pm and was surprised to find that we'd beaten the promoter and the PA to the gig. This would normally unsettle the docile but highly strung animals that make up my backing band but thanks to some bales of fresh hay and no small amount of gentle stroking upon their hind quarters, they did not stampede. With the musicians duly subdued and stabled, I unpacked my favourite guitar from it's brown paper wrapping and began to wipe the dung from its surface.
This would be a proud moment for me as it was the first time in more than a year that my new material and my back catalogue would be aired side by side to the general population. With this in mind I removed the hood from the sleekest and most powerful of my adopted beasts Tim 'The Cross-eyed Falcon' Eyles and placed him upon a good vantage point just outside the club. We prepared to rehearse some of the songs and as I strummed a few chords experimentally, I watched Tim stretch out his limbs and expertly grasp his guitar between talon and beak.
We practiced for a short while before we were disturbed by a good natured but unbelievably prosaic drunk that would not shut up about his trip to hospital to have a lump removed from his leg. This startled the normally laconic beast of bass Paul 'Breeding Stock' Worwood who had moments before, broken loose of his tether and had ambled up to join us. I decided that practicing out of doors was not such a good idea after all and herded the group back downstairs to be reunited with my faithful teacher and current owner Robert 'Monkey Trainer' Ramsay. Ook, ook.
The gig was great fun and it was lovely to see some fellow animals that I hold very dear to my little ape heart performing some fantastic material. Jeanette 'Octopussy' Murphy put in a sterling performance, made all the more remarkable by the fact that she had recently fractured one of her eight arms after a late night inking session. Jeza (The Lizard King) was also on hand to both perform a handful of gems and devoured a small woodland mouse that had strayed too close to his stool (that poor mouse).
By 11.00pm the joint was alive with the sounds of animal rhythms and bestial melodies. The drink was flowing and the horse tranquilisers were being consumed almost as fast. I could feel a great swelling of emotion from the pit of my stomach; this was a truly great performance by my band ruined only by my uncontrollable wind. It didn't matter that our limbs struck a bum chord or three or indeed that Robert was accosted by a drunk hippie who tried to wrestle his harmonicas away from him in mid-song. The gig was a tremendous success, thanks in part to Tim's friend Sam who managed to round up many stray friends for the duration.
However all good things must come to an end and the evening was rounded up when the pigs burst into the room with trained attack dogs yelling 'Four legs good, two legs bad' at everyone. The last thing I remember was Paul being loaded into the back of the Glue Factory truck. Where were they taking him? I must speak to the pigs as he's worked so hard for the good of the farm...
On a more coherent front, there are two item of news late that I must convey. There will be a show for the Whizz Kidz Charity (http://www.whizz-kidz.org.uk/index2.html) organised by Dreamfield guitarist and sonic martyr Greg McKella on the 5th of December The line up currently includes:
This will take place at Lazy Jacks, 32 Turnham Green Terrace, Chiswick for more details click here: http://www.simonwalsh.org/gigs/gig_news.htm
Finally, there is talk of an up an coming Simon Walsh gig in New York City (see the gig page on the homepage). More details will follow in the new pages of the website and in the next letter from your esteemed Prez.
Sleep well fellow livestock. Eat your food, reproduce and do not question authority.
I remain as ever, stuck on the cattlegrid.
Simon Walsh.