Festival Revue

2001-08-17

I get there for the first chord of the Peggy Vestas' set. And darn fine they are, also. On previous occasions I have either been on immediately after them (meaning that I didn't have a chance to pay too much attention) or on a completely different day when I was unable to get to the venue (being either playing a show or in London), so this was a rare chance to catch a set, even a mini one.

Getting there early, though, meant that I had a chance to see the size of the audience (a lot bigger than the pictures suggest, since there is the park on either side and behind the seating area and Princes Street at the top) and the number of monitors it was going out to. So I could work up a bit of honest fear. When I have played before, I tended to come to the venue from the back, and so didn't see what it was like out front.

Peter Michael Rowan and his son Seami arrive with some friends and we sit on the grass for a while until it's time for Peter to go in and get ready, and I follow him. we fill in the release that grants our souls unto the company for eternity and a form with some information for the presenters to read out. While Pete's playing I warm up in the Gents' toilets. As it were.

I have to drink water from the taps in the Gents. Hopefully I won't succumb to salmonella on stage.

The runner is playing jokes on the producer – moving the gaffer tape that demarcates the area behind the monitors in the Producer's area that people are allowed to go (for fear of tripping over a lead and shorting out the while show). Presumably the same spirit that put a helium-filled Piglet-shaped balloon above his chair signifying producer. I often wonder about the curious display ceremonies that take place between the Office Junior and the Office Alpha Male. No doubt Desmond Morris or David Attenborough would be able to tell me about it.

Technically speaking the whole show is being run by one woman sitting quietly in the corner in front of a bank of monitors.

One of the very nice and efficient Floor managers chats to me about timings (I have my Big Time alarm clock with me to make sure I don't run over) and stuff. I go out onto the stage to plug in and set up the drum stool, then I have to go offstage again while I am announced. I have given them several gags – I define my style as a "combination of jazz, folk and sarcasm" and have filled in (in a category marked "awards" that I haven't won any awards "and am bitter about it". But the presenter kills the gags by saying "or so he says" after reading each of them. Which isn't the point, really.

I play The Things You Get and realise that the stool is quite rickety. This means that I have to brace the guitar during the more complicated bits. I adjust a bit and play Mr Wrong, Little Games and then against my better judgement play Unison, but luckily get away with it. I had half announced it as my last song, but have two minutes left, so I play Comforting Lie very fast indeed. Certainly no one seems to mind if I do come off a bit over time.

I really like playing this gig. Long may it run.