Alex dreamt last night that she bought a table. Did I like it I asked. The dream did not get that far. It was a cigar table made of oak and it was extendible. It was only £150. The last phew days have been a whirl but our offer was accepted on a house which we only saw by chance on Thursday at 2.00pm. By a quarter past 4 we had seen it for a second time with Blue, offered the asking price and had the offer accepted. Hurrah.
In the local we bumped into Gavin from Northumberland. Did you try the omlette yet he asked. No, Alex apologised. Gavin said he missed out on one vital ingredient - orange pepper. Alex made a mental note. I asked him if he played the guitar. I am razor sharp you see. His finger nails on the right hand were a shade too long for a bloke because Gavin is a blokey kinda bloke. You could easily picture him, Denis Hopper and Jack Nichoson riding easy across the good old US of A. So, after the finger nails we got talking music. Gavin's getting a band together. It's brilliant music he said. Gavin was full of praise for himself. What genre is his music I asked? Gavin said I would have to listen and decide the genre for myself. But the nearest he could come to would be blues / rock, maybe. Gavin's band is not a pub band. His is more a Wembley Arena, O2 Arena sort of outfit. He's short a few personnel for the band. He needs a second female vocalist and a rhythm guitarist. For the last rehearsal his 65 year old guitarist travelled down from Newcastle. But Gavin needs to lower the age profile of the band.
So he gave me his CD. The cover was a lined page from an exercise book with the seven tracks listed out. The titles were dark - Storm Clouds, Black as Hell, Hillman Avenger Blues - clearly, an album with an edge. Gavin did everything on the album. He wrote the songs, imagined and realised the soundscapes, played all the instuments (apart from the drums) and did the vocals. The unheard album sat tantalisingly on the table, in the soft plastic CD cover with its handwritten tracks, as we listened to Gavin explaining the oeuvre.
I had had enough. I needed to end the pain. I slipped the album off the table and went back to the cottage and put it on in the kitchen and left the door open. Our garden abuts the local's garden so I knew it would be heard there. By the time I got back Gavin was in shock. He just loved listening to it. And it was great to have him there, illuminating amd annotating for us. And, dear reader, I have to tell you. This album exceeded all expectations. Gavin was right. This is no pub band. His sound demands an arena worthy of it. Some of his tracks evoked the sound of the live Leonard Cohen while others reminded one of The Boss. Rock on Gavin. I only wish Jim could fix it for you.
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