Articles
September 2005
Stringing Me Along
April 2005
Pace's Folly
December 2004
Changes
November 2004
Pacing Myself
October 2004
Zappily Ever After
August 2004
Stringing Me Along
April 2005
Wow. An update at last - a chance for me to tell you all what's been going on in the wide, weird, wonderful world of DriveSHAFT. Only, nothing's been going on. The most DS-y thing I've done since December has been a little impromptu jam with Sinjin and Pat - Sinjin, unsurprisingly, has been making vague noises about doing another album. Don't get too excited, he makes these noises with clockwork regularity and it's only ever happened once. Still, he asked me round to be his bassist. It was good fun. I was less rusty than I'd thought I'd be.
I've been asked before if I ever actually played with DriveSHAFT, and the answer is of course yes. As any of you who attended our shows, especially during our first tour, will know, there was the odd song where two guitar parts were required - on the album, naturally, Sinjin would just overdub, but it was a little more difficult to arrange when we played live. Well, our first thought was to see if Liam couldn't do it. He couldn't. It distracted him and threw him off his groove for singing - I have to admit, it was always pretty funny to watch him try, because within ten bars either his singing or his guitarage would have gone way out of whack, and he'd give a great whanging dischord on the guitar accompanied by a full-throated "FUCK!" (or something to that effect) and Sinjin would twit him for days. So the next logical suspect was me. Only anyone who knows anything about me knows that I can't play a six-string. At all. I am hopeless. So it was either drag Shaggy Miller up on stage (Shaggy being Sinjin's tech) and make him play the spare guitar, or get me involved in some way. Now, our Shaggy is not at all bad. But the problem with Shaggy is he just so happens to be six foot two of square-jawed, tousled-platinum-blond-mopped, model-muscled Playgirl Boy of the Month. He's been known to have girls chuck their pants at him while onstage tuning Sinjin's guitars. And our Sinjin is a little on the weedy side, dark, a beautiful mate but not exactly a beauty queen. (Besides which, if you think Sinjin's ego is delicate, spare a moment's thought for Liam.) So clearly letting Shaggy out on stage was something even Ted Tallis was not brave enough to suggest. Which left one person guaranteed not to steal the spotlight - me. Sinjin lent Charlie a guitar, Charlie handed off his bass to me, I took his part and he strutted out front, every inch the star. I enjoyed it - I always have liked performing, although the pressure of doing a whole show and being a star of that sort doesn't really appeal to me. And we did it just often enough that now, if I have to slip into a groove with Sinjin and Pat, I still know where I fit. It's a nice feeling.
I do rather hope this time the project gets off the ground. I could use something to do.
Hmm. Loads more column length left. How 'bout another story? Yeah, I thought you might say yes to that.
Shows on the road make for long, gruelling days. No-one who's ever been a roadie would ever think of disputing the fact that a good deal of the time, our job is really not very fun. Up early - well before the band - to get everything started at the theatre, or wherever we were meant to be playing; heavy physical labour performed at great speed until the band shows up around noon, and you'd best hope you have everything ready for them; drape cranky musicians with guitars and wires and microphones, and test them all; go deaf while the sound chief balances things; pack the talent back off to the hotel to eat, or whatever; finish the stage dressing and retest everything yourself, hoping like hell you have time enough to grab something to eat yourself, all the while the caterers are laying out a spread fit for royalty in the principal dressing rooms; drag the band back to the theatre with enough time to get them dressed, primped, made up, and retuned, but not so much that they feel compelled to crack open the booze before the show; bundle them onstage and make sure everything they need is to hand before they even realise they need it; bundle them offstage afterwards and safely on to their party; and then, finally, we can start taking it all apart. If you're lucky and everything goes fast, you're out of the theatre by half one in the morning.
But you know, when the show goes brilliantly and your elated charge absolutely refuses to allow you to stay at the theatre after the show and forcibly drags you into a limo full of champagne and people who aren't models but could be and glorious, glorious food, and no-one questions your right to be there, least of all the almost-models... it's all worth it.
zap[at]driveshaftband.com
