One of the main problems with blog writing, and possibly writing in general, is navel gazing. It’s an occupational hazard of sitting down, you only have to lower your head in a moment of tiredness and it’s right there. I am trying to think of some things to say about my music in the wake of the first and only rehearsal for the forthcoming tour (I’m not sure about that word “wake” for a start, it’s a bit….funerial…), and it starts to happen again, my head drops a bit, deep in thought, perhaps I’m a bit tired…anyway, there it is; my navel, what else is there to gaze at? I suppose if people communicated their innermost thoughts with a megaphone all this navel orientated activity would stop, and people would look up instead, surely a more promising source of inspiration.
Rehearsals are a strange event whenever any degree of improvisation is involved. The “top and tailing” of arrangements, figuring out different grooves which are only partly implied on the written page, solo orders…the one thing that often doesn’t get rehearsed is the actual playing together that constitutes the majority of the gig. Actually PLAYING (in a kind of “your arse off” way) at a rehearsal would be akin to revealing childhood traumas at an interview for a vacancy at KFC, it just isn’t really done, although you’d be tempted to give that person the job. There’s a kind of tacit understanding that what is being rehearsed is a kind of “C Beebies” version of what is going to happen on the gig, with all the swearing and adult references edited out, and possibly a bit too much explanation of what’s going on. There’s an almost superstitious feeling that you shouldn’t blow all the music on a rehearsal, and it’s universally understood and accepted amongst most musicians.
So the anticipated relief at having rehearsed the music, sorted the parts, finalised the arrangements…it never really comes; I’ll be saving that for the end of the first gig, which is in Wakefield on Friday 20th September. Until then…chin up…