We had out first ‘show’ last night at L’hôtel d’Exatorre on Rue de la Roundelle. We did a two-song intro at the end of La Nuit de L’acoustique Toutes les Etoiles, run by the ineffable Guillaume Vetu. We sounded quite good apparently.
It was an acoustic variety night so there was lots on offer. For me, the high point of the night was John Crouch’s frenetic guitar playing, although the memory is clouded by the performance of another fellow who decided that it was in everyone’s best interests if he play a ten minute didgeridoo solo, without having actually asked anyone if they agreed.
Then there was the obligatory table of “look at me” twenty-somethings who chose to sit right up the front in the music room, yelling at one another, even though they had the whole rest of the pub to themselves if they wanted a place to do that. Sound quality improved dramatically when Soursob Bob told them to – and I quote – “shut the fuck up”. I bought him a beer.
I wince with embarrassment when I recall that I used to do exactly the same thing in my early twenties and that I, also, might have had the delusion that being seen in the front bar of the Exeter on a Thursday night in winter was somehow the coolest thing ever.