Tag Archives: #music

“More Cowbell!”

‘More Cowbell!’ he requested.

I replied, ‘Less is more!’

He was not sure

if that was so,

and, so, asked me this,

‘Are less musicians

good for my financial statisticians?’

I thought.

Then hit that Cowbell

for all I was worth –

a barrel of treacle,

and a spoonful of Earth.

‘The Chicken’

‘The Chicken’

Why did The Chicken cross the roadie off of the Backstage Pass list?

The Chicken were the biggest band to come out of Uttoxeter since… well, since ever. Never had a band come out of Uttoxter. Until The Chicken. The Chicken were the first, and they were big, really big… well, big for Uttoxeter, anyway.

Their first LP (Long Player) sold 45 copies (as very few people in Uttoxeter had record players – friends and families were the main purchasers) and that pushed ‘Pecking in the Dirt’ well in to the top 10 (on the Uttoxeter ‘hot’ 100).

Their single release ‘Cluckin’ Like Crazy’ (in coloured vinyl) was a collector’s item (being a limited edition… of 10) and, so, barely scraped into the Uttoxeter singles chart (at no. 97, for one week only).

Well, a tour was mooted in the band, then they suggested to their management (Edith, Barry the Drummer’s mum) that a countrywide venue-fest would be just the thing to sell their new CD (Compact Disc , which format was an actual step into the twentieth century – their idea for cassettes was, however, still on the back-burner) this CD they had cleverly (to their minds) entitled ‘Hen Will I See You Again?’

Along with the band (Barry, drums; Tiger, guitar and vocals; Tez, Bass and muted vocals; and Limpet, lead guitar and mob choruses) there was Mozzer (Tiger’s Mum, the tour manager, and Mullet, the roadie.

It was Mullet that caused all the problems;

Mullet was a throwback to the early 80s, he was likely to be thrown back as far as the late 70s.

Mullet forgot the cables, the leads, the microphones, and all the strings for the guitars. Having left them in a custom-built logo-clad black gig crate that he had purloined from behind the brewery.

But, as Mullet claimed to be able to drive the old Bedford van that they had been ‘given’ by the Uttoxeter Twinning Comittee, in the vain hope that on their travels they might be able to agree a twinning contract with some far off paradise – such as Lichfield to the south.

However, a promised gig in ‘The Bright Lights’ a pub in Longdon (not London, as they had thought) failed to materialise as the landlord had double-booked the band with a group of ladies from the WI – and he wasn’t going to tell them that their coffee morning was cancelled.

To finish it all off, Mullet was arrested for speeding on the B5014 at Abbots Bromley – not normally an a treatable offence, Mullet was very puppy to the policeman and then proceeded to throw up over the policeman’s shiny black boots.

Without a driver, the band (and their entourage) has to get a bus home and have a long hard think about the band’s future. The only decision made, was, that Mullet was sacked.

Mullet, released sober a day later, was not that fussed as he had received a better offer from a WPC at the station. Less on that story is to follow.

A new form of song.

A new form of song.

Well, you probably all know what ‘A cappella’ is – singing without music;

and, conversely, you must know by now, that music without singing is called ‘instrumental’; well, what I did was to take the bold step of combining the two, and having no music and… no singing… although, after a little thought about this I have now changed the idea to one of music ‘and’ singing – together, combined. I know, it’s a bit irrational, a bold choice in a brave new world; but research will show if people are open to this totally radical idea, and we shall see if, in time, it catches on.

Who knows? I may even have created a monster.

“Deep-Fried Ukulele in a Light Tempura Batter.”

“Deep-Fried Ukulele in a Light Tempura Batter.”

A long time ago,

A young George Orwell was thought to have said

(and this was when he was younger,

before he was dead)

‘Four strings good;

Six strings better!’

and then he deep-fried a ukulele

In a light tempura batter


#1 in a series of 10 entitled, ‘Ten (10) Creative Ways To ‘Literally’ Cook Your Ukulele.’

The Tale of My Banjo – a song

The Tale of My Banjo – a song

I got a banjo

but I just don’t play it

and the people

they love me for that;

then one day

I opened up the case,

grabbed my banjo

and strummed it’s face

and the people

they didn’t like that;

they cut my strings

with a pair of pliers,

said they didn’t

but they’re all liars,

and the people

they were not bothered.

I got a banjo

I do not play it

because the people

snipped my strings.



Intro Am F C G

Am F

Now listen here my friend


to these words I have to say;

Am. F

and let us not pretend

C. G

that the truth will go away.


I am here,


and here I’ll stay;


in Cornwall, ‘til the end.

Am. F

I don’t know why the family went away;


but, now I’m back,


I am here


in Cornwall,


for forever, and a day.

Am F

I don’t know why the family went away;


but, now I’m back, I am here,


and I am here to stay…


in Cornwall, in Cornwall…


for forever, and a day.


I am here,


and here I’ll stay;


in Cornwall, ‘til the end.

Guitar Upon the Wall

Guitar Upon The Wall

The guitar hangs upon the wall

like a picture drawn a thousand times;

but, where is the use it needs to feel,

the lyric phrase, the quirky rhymes?

Strings, untuned, coated fine

with the dust of betrayal,

silently thrum to the tune

of an unheard song

from long, long ago;

when, or if, they shall play again

it’s beyond my knowledge to know.



I bought a ukulele

I really don’t know why

I have to play it daily

Though it makes the people cry

And even though I practice

I am not really any good

I may have to give it up

The people wish I would.

Although the tunes are cheery

The strumming winds them up

And songs about the prairie

Are not everybody’s cup

Of tea.

Musically Inept?


The words and the tune?
Lyrically I’m challenged;
Musically, too!


A Virtuoso Performance

A4 2

A Virtuoso Performance

The violinist stood before the 50,00 strong audience and took a deep breath. Then, he started into the performance of a lifetime. His instrument a part of himself; its soaring melodies seemed to fly like magic from just four strings and one bow; and, even when one string broke with the passion of his performance, he managed to glide over the disability as if nothing had happened – the audience were unaware of this, but would be even more impressed when they learned of this after the show.

For an hour the maestro of the violin entertained and cajoled his audience with a selection of Vivaldi’s Five Seasons (he’d added one more, as he didn’t feel that the quartet had that sparkle without a fifth season (you can admire his reasoning).

Every single man, woman and child in the audience was transported with his playing; the sounds evoking so many different images to the audience that they flew in their dreams to all corners of the creative mindscapes that are possible. Some even achieved their own personal orgasmic moments – it was ‘that’ good.

Finally, the music of the night came to a sweet, yet bitter, end – and he stood straight to take a bow to the applause.

It was at that moment that his music stand failed and the device folded back on itself, revealing an A4 page of… it wasn’t musical notation… it was a little ‘note to self’.

It seemed that the maestro may have been a little nervous and had taken some pains to try to get over the issue by attaching a reassuring comfort note to his music stand – the words on the A4 paper read:


He was even more popular after this.