Sold a few guitars and made some new friends this weekend. The highlight for me was when my vendor neighbor Soaring Eagle came over after I had started playing a 3 string brownie pan guitar to ask me to turn it up and play more often because 1. it drew customers to not only my booth, but the booths around me; and 2. he just plain loved the music. Ducktail Run and the two other festivals going on in the county, the Jonesboro River Rally and Fairmount's James Dean Days always brings in huge crowds and it was a blast. I always enjoy watching the face on the guys who loudly say: "that's not a real guitar, it's something you hang on the wall." after I politely explain that it is a working man's instrument made in my shop and I'd not be ashamed to play it next to somebody playing a pricey guitar made in a guitar factory. They start to say something else but, by then, I've had the opportunity to plug it in and show them what it sounds like. After that, I have made not only a believer, but a new friend. Once they hear what such simple instruments can do, they are drawn in and want to know more. Some buy something, some don't. But they all have fun hanging out for a few. And they will look for me next year. Can't wait!.
Festival (15)
This weekend, I was at Frankton, Indiana's Heritage Days. The whole festival was incredible. A VERY small town put on an outstanding event. Live music going on almost nonstop for the whole weekend. Included a car show, tractor show, tons of vendors,
It's like fairs were when I was a kid. The whole community came out to support the local event and have some fun. It was really heartwarming to be there in Frankton this past weekend. I guess the good old days aren't completely gone. .
Heritage Days Opening Ceremony Video
Fall festivals are upon us here in the Midwest. I had a ball selling at the Cumberland Bridge Festival in Matthews, Indiana. I was the only vendor doing cbg, 8 string guitars, and music-related accessories including pick wall art and guitar neck coat racks. The customers were really receptive to the handmade stuff.
Sold plenty, including the prototype for my shovel guitar builds. Along with the 3 string guitars, I sold cbg kits for folks with the diy attitude. Those were great for folks who weren't up for paying the asking price of a handmade instrument, but were up for getting their hands dirty and building one themselves. People are more invested in an instrument that they build. Getting ready for the next market this Saturday. Planning on a pair of crutch guitars as attention-getters. Gotta have something to get people to stop and look.
I never gave it much thought as to what defined a festival. Was it just a get together of people celebrating some sort of theme like an open air carnival? I've heard music concerts converted into festivals. However, what I have learned recently is just how different everybody's festivals is. Some are held inside small pubs packed full of people, which is cozy eh! Where others look much like an open market place lined with vender booths and a stage for live performance and that can vary. Some are more private and are held in community halls and are very family oriented.
They all have many variances that give each festival it's own personality. They change over time. Some are free festivals and other have cover charges for a variety of reasons. I quickly learned there is a bucket load of energy expelled to organize and promote these events. Everybody involved makes it what it is on all levels.
I enjoy viewing pictures and videos of CBG festivals going on around the world. I like all the different kinds and how they seem to cast different moods, different folks and even different food & drink. I hope to connect more with other events even if I'm not physically there.
Smilingdog
So I leave for Italy via London to play two festivals-one in Rome,one in Parma.As the plane descends into Rome, the Mediterranean sea is immediately below me to one side, to the other, the Italian landscape looks beige and parched of the rain which gives the English landscape its deep green hue.Its 33 and its gonna be a hot few days.
I am picked up at the airport and given a large bottle of water (they know all about my dehydration issues due to my lack of large intestine)-its a nice touch,necessary and very welcome.Emanuele apologises that the water has warmed slightly and I'm reminded of how easy it could be to turn into a diva "I said the water must be 2 degrees-TWO DEGREES!!" I'm dropped off at a smart hotel.Once in my room I could be anywhere-I have a conspiracy theory that the worlds' hoteliers have a secret annual meeting,Bilderberg style,in which they all agree upon how their rooms will look.
Doing shows and the travel it entails is tiring and I've learned that one part of the day I dig is that dead time between your arrival at a hotel at 3pm and the soundcheck at 6.You're free to just kick off your Converse, lie on the bed and relax away the miles you just put on.I throw open the doors to the balcony,strip down to me boxers (like I said-its bloody hot!) and get horizontal.The birds are singing.Its all good and I enter that pleasant half asleep mode.
Picked up as arranged,I'm driven through Rome to the venue.As we pass a model of the Coliseum Emanuele jokes that "there you go,you've seen the Coliseum!' I laugh, I am, of course, fated not to, because as I intimated in a previous blog,I've been to Brussels/Paris/London/Rome/Amsterdam etc etc and all I get to see is a stage and a hotel almost every time!
The Mojo Station Blues Festival is situated downtown beneath a suitably impressive (and unfeasibly high) Ancient Roman aquaduct.The heat is incredible.As I sit down to soundcheck I notice that my forearms are sweating and I havent even done anything.The soundcheck complete, I go backstage, taking note of the copious amounts of bottled water on offer-I'll be drinking them dry-I have no intention of letting my empty belly beat me.
I walk around the festival as the sun goes down-the venue has things going on both inside and outside-the outside is wonderfully romantic, the climate allowing the organisers to place shabby leather sofas and mattress/couches and cushions in little alcoves,lit by candlelight.It is a mediterranean lifestyle most unlike anything the weather would allow for in England.I drink steadily to ensure success.
Eventually it's showtime-Gianluca (the super nice promoter dude who brought me out here) introduces me and I take up position.As I strike up Jolene I notice that the guitar sound is completely clean-uh oh-a valve has probably blown in the heat-I desperately turn the distortion on full-nothing..just Fender twang.
trying to find some distortion!
I play on and notice the punters are digging it anyway.I decide to just plough on regardless.The audience are great-up for a good time.
At the end of my set I am joined by Angelo Leadbelly Rossi and his drummer who have expressed a desire to jam a few numbers with me.Its fun to play with others for a change and we jam out three numbers before I retire.I get to my room in the early hours and sleep.I have a long day ahead of me..
In the morning I'm dropped off at the railway station,having been provided with tickets to Parma.Its a bit of a trek-like going from Southern to Northern England say.I board the train.Its so hot its a little like being slowly cooked as you travel.I can feel telltale signs that its beginning to effect me adversely,so I walk down to the buffet carriage and order a coke and some bread (I missed breakfast).I look out the window as the Italian countryside passes by me like Van Gogh is painting it,the pallet is warm beige,greens and a pure, azure sky.Ancient villages cling to hillsides as they have for centuries,defying the passage of time.Only the Italians can make shabby look oh so chic.I still feel rough so I purchase another drink and ponder how I might survive a summer tour in these conditions..I'd really have to rest up during the day in order to perform at night,vampire style.Mind you,I had to do that on tour in Northern Europe anyway.The second drink makes me feel better.
After 4 hours or so I disembark and am met at the station by three lovely Parma Festival organisers.They put me in the front seat-perhaps they know I get carsick-anyway,I'm grateful, because me and cars dont get on at all-never have.The sweat trickles down my temples-as we drive they point out a bridge the Mafia have had built-a bizarre structure-like a metal and glass bubble wrapped around a bridge-its construction has caused scandal in these parts and one can see why simply from an aesthetic viewpoint,aside from any dodgy backhanders-it stands brash and incongruous amid the otherwise understated historic vernacular it resides in-a brutish monstrosity of modernity.
They take me to a nice cool restaurant and I down a big bottle of cold water-fabulous.There is a cool breeze and I really feel ok now.I am dropped off at a hotel in a sleepy town (yay-rest time comin!) but whats this? this hotelier clearly doesn't attend those Bilderberg hotelier meetings..this is pure mediterranean-beautiful adobe walls,rough hewn wooden beams,planks making up the ceiling,wooden shutters on the windows..lovely..things get even better-it has air con! I turn it up high,strip off and enjoy a few hours pre-soundcheck rest.Sigh.
Arriving at the Festival site is something else-situated on the banks of a wide,slow moving river,which someone refers to as the Italian Mississippi-his metaphor is rather apt-it really does have that feel.The whole thing is outdoors-the stage is huge and the setup is,once again,very pro.I soundcheck and the amp is clean-uh oh.Is this Fenders' revenge? Determined not to repeat the clean guitar sound scenario, the harp player from the other act comes to my rescue with a distortion pedal.Sweet.The sound dudes are polite,enthusiastic and really helpful.The soundcheck is sorted in about 2 minutes flat-cool.
The organisers hand me a festival tee which I immediately put on to show respect.I eat the best pasta I have ever eaten in my life (unsurprising given my location).I'm called to do an interview on the banks of the river-
The guy has really done his homework and knows more about my life than I do! I then relax,chat to the other band and have a little wander.People,a lot of them,arrive and I get the 10 minute call.I pace around.I hear myself getting introduced in Italian-I am stood at the foot of the 5 steps that lead up and onto the stage.A stagehand hands me 2 fresh, crisp white hand towels.Up I go,high fiving the mc as we pass each other onstage.We are off.
The crowd is responsive,I tell little between song stories and jokes,slowing my speech slightly so most can catch it in English.I tell them about cbg's and cigar box nation.
It goes great.The crowd is so large I have to bow centre left and right when I'm done, and wave to those at the back.They want more so I ask the stage manager if he wants me to do one more (see pic).
Encore played and I come off.Job done.My cd they're selling on my behalf sell out.Less to carry home :)
The punters are happy,the organisers are too-and therefor so am I.I feel excited that I will be returning next month to Pontinia rock and blues festival.I am whisked away to my hotel at 2am as I am being picked up at 7 to begin a journey that will take me 17 hours.(No flights from Parma on a Sunday so I must return via Rome).
13 hours later I'm sitting on a Westbound train back in England, on the final leg of my adventure.I sit adjacent to two young lovers,who watch a film on a laptop together-she curled around him with her shoes off,he stroking her hair.I remember how that felt when I was their age.I smile to myself,feeling a sense of warmth and loss in equal measure.I look back out the window but its dark and all I see is my reflection-people used to say I had angry eyes as a young man, but now they look so much like my late mothers..theres a sadness about them.I cup my hands so I can see through the glass.In the inky darkness beyond only two things are visible-the lopsided smile of a crescent moon and the street lights.The warm beige glow of the moon reminds me of the Italian landscape I travelled through just hours before-its natural sunlit beauty is juxtaposed with the garish electric street lamps-mans crude attempts at light creation.
My wife is due to meet me at the station and when I disembark we catch sight of each other on the platform.At exactly the same moment the same thing happens to both of us-two invisible hooks pull at the side of our mouths and we break out into involuntary superwide smiles.I realise that time has not,after all, robbed me of what those young lovers have-I'm home and its all good.
Cheers HB
Hey folks, coming up fast on the adelaide international guitar festival now.
got asked to do a stint in the 'meet the makers' slot, so on friday (aug 10th) i'm there, with jimbo to wrestle the crowds, and steer the rowdy ones back to the bar - or give them a guitar.
gonna talk about pickups and pickup making, the joy to the world that is cigar box guitar, and do some demos of various pickups in various instruments through various amps!
steve pederson is going to play for the crowds, and show us all how to do it really. (seriously, i gave him a fretted 3-stringer the other day, he has never played one before, and in seconds he was getting stuff out of that skinny neck i could only dream of playing - 'bastard' says i!)
all in all i'm hoping for a fine time for all, and we are just around the corner from the coopers bar, which can only help. really.
hopefully we can get a few other aussie CBG makers there too, and we can show these guitar afficionardos, that they're using too many strings.
Adelaide International Guitar Festival website
e
Hi Everyone!
I'm still accepting cigar box guitar-related items (cigar box guitars, cigar box guitar music or instructional CDs or DVDs--anything!) from my cigar box guitar brothers and sister who would care to donate such things for items for drawing during the Kansas City Cigar Box Guitar Festival. All proceeds go to Benefit the Kansas City Blues Society's Blues in the Schools program--a worthy cause!
Thanks for caring!
- Kevin
Saturday January 23rdFilms - at the St Paul Eagles Club 287 Maria Ave St Paul MNnoon - Wayne County Rambling2pm - Moments and Truths3pm - The Hand Of Fatima4:30pm - It Came From Detroit6pm - The Folksinger7:45pm - Can't Take It With You When You DieLive Music - at the St Paul Eagles Club 287 Maria Ave St Paul MN9pm - Teague Alexy (Moments and Truths)10pm - Reverend Deadeye (Folksinger and Can't Take It With You)11pm - Possessed By Paul James (Folksinger)Saturday January 30thFilms - at the St Paul Eagles Club 287 Maria Ave St Paul MNnoon - NOT TBA - CEASE AND DESIST (7 hours of private collection)Live Music - at Palmer's Bar 500 Cedar Ave S Minneapolis MN9pm - Kenny Brown11pm - Mark Porkchop HolderWe're requesting a $5 donation at the door. Reserved advance admission is available with a Deep Blues Festival Membership $20. You can also help support the festival by purchasing additional memberships for your friends or sponsoring a membership for a musician.https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=9677158There are just a handful of shirts still available. $20 includes shippinghttps://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=11144993
Get up 5:30am and satnav my way north toward Birmingham for the largest UK arts festival.I pray it doesn't rain cos my rusty car roof leaks and I dont want my gear getting wet! Arrive at Chickenbone Johns' 1960's bohemian split level gaff nice n early.After a quick coffee we convoy into the city centre and set up the cigar box nation stall.It's another example of just why Chickenbone John is the Godfather of the UK cbg movement-with the stall emblazoned with cigarbox nation backdrops, his homemade cbg's and flyers.I set up my gear.Over the next 6 hours, we alternate doing short sets to the passing festival goers,selling cd's and handing out flyers for the 2nd UK CBG fest next month.
Its a long time since I played on the street and I'm reminded how different it is to playing to an indoor captive audience.I find it harder to build a relationship with the mercurial masses-they do stand and watch, but stop playing for more than 4 seconds and the crowd will soon dissipate as the river of people flows,naturally enough, along to the next stall.You have to be more aggressive in the way you interact, pulling them in and keeping them there.I see John working the crowds doing just that.I unfortunately do the opposite and give up trying to talk to them and simply resort to playing the tunes.I'm still harbouring secret doubts about my abilities-due largely to not having had the type of positive feedback that only comes from a live audience for a few months.Playing in amongst a line of stalls doesn't particularly assail my demons.After I overhear the nth person hissing Seasick steve to their partner I seriously consider having a shave.On the other hand, as John sagely points out-its really the only point of reference the public has to what they are witnessing on the stall.
Around 5 we break down the gear and dash across the city to load for the gig at the CBSO. (City of Birmingham Symphony orchestra)Damn-this place is one serious venue.We are directed through massive manned steel security gates.Not the usual parking down a dark alley behind the club.There are staff on hand to help in any way they can-its all very pro.Me and the Godfather load via the stagedoor, down a corridor lined with huge double bass cases-the effect is funereal, they stand like gleaming white Sarcophagus against the wall.We pass the Ancient Egyptian sentinals and enter the concert hall-holy smoke-the ceiling is like 3 stories high and its all polished wood floor.I throw down my grotty carpet and set up-it looks tiny but kinda cool-the addition of the cd flightcase left open toward the audience makes it look like a set-the final addition of a bottle of beer and I'm good to go-I like the way it looks and I'm learning fast about selling.The soundcheck is painless-the acoustics are the best I've experienced (but they would be given its home to an orchestra!) I dont even have monitors, yet I can hear everything.Fantastic.It might sound pretentious but I feel at home.
So I'm on at 6:15pm-opening act for an evening of blues.I think to myself "who the hells gonna turn up for a gig at this hour" but I'm wrong-the place fills-the Godfather grabs a radio mic and tells the crowd about next months festival and introduces me-I cross the expanse of polished wood and strap meself in. "its dead posh ere innit?" I say and they all laugh.I tell them I can always tell posh venues cos the toilets still have the plastic seat bit attached to the loo.More laughter.Launch into Jolene and it all goes gr8.Its so good to feel that ebb and flow between the audience and the performer-its like being psychic-you can feel what they're feeling, tell what they're thinking-gauge their level of enjoyment.This is what I like.Theres no bull-its immediate,its all out in the open.I tell them if 3 of them buy my cd I'll be able to get enough petrol to get home.Its over all too fast but the reaction is gr8 and a good number of people line up and buy the cd.It's exactly what I need and the doubt demons flee to bother someone else for a while.So thanks to Chickenbone John for providing me with the opportunity to get back in the driving seat.It felt good.Oh yes.
I climb into the Bellybus, beneath rainy British skies and set off for Europe.Little do I know the rain wont stop for the entire trip.Tonight I'll be staying 200 miles away at DJ Hillfunks gaff in Kent before we both head on out to Europe.That evening Hilly takes me to play a short set at a bar in Kent.The bar owner looks chuffed to nick to have me there, and it serves me well as a warm up for tomorrows festival.
The next day we cross beneath the English channel, the Eurotunnel is gift for people like me as I only have to look at a boat to get seasick.We are on foreign soil in no time, and after a short while driving along the French coast we head southeast and cross the border into Belgium.We arrive at the festival site-there are flightcases upon flightcases of gear getting unloaded from big trucks-its all very pro.We are greeted warmly and looked after as one is at such events-handed backstage passes,drinks,complimentary tees,a gift of Belgian beers and so on.I'm told they found me on the internet and 'like the honesty of what I do'.The main hall is huge and this is where the main acts will play-my job consists of playing three sets throughout the evening in the adjacent tent/marquee-the idea being that as they change gear on the main stage between acts they need someone to fill the downtime-thats me.some punters will drift into the tent and watch me before returning for the next main act in the hall.
The possible problems I might face start to surface in my mind..am I supposed to do 3 identical sets, as different punters will drift in each time-or am I supposed to do 3 different sets? I have 45 minutes worth of material and three 30 minute sets to do- do the maths and I'm in deep doo doo.What if the second set attracts half of people who have already seen me and half who haven't-do I tell them who I am again, do I talk about cbg's again or not bother-it seems a little no win..if I talk to them about cigarbox nation I risk boring the people who have heard it before,but if I dont mention it again the punters who didn't hear my first set will miss out.hhmmm.
Well I play my first set-it goes great-I finish with "I think I'm coming home' and 'Black dog', telling them about hospital visits and clinical depression-as some of you may know its pretty intense and I come offstage shaken-my blues (pain) have been delivered and they loved it but as I come offstage with watering eyes I know I wont be singing those songs twice more-its draining and its not an act.As I pass through the crowd that Belgian hospitality/warmth is firmly in evidence-someone thrusts a piece of paper in my hand-on it it he's written 'your belly is maybe empty but your heart is full of blues', I'm extraordinarily touched.Another guy says 'can I give you something?' I say sure and he says 'a hug'-I look at his warm open face and we hug- it is very unbritish and I enjoy the breakdown of the stupid social norm-it doesn't matter that we are men-we are two humans consoling each other.Another guy presses a gift of a bottleneck in my palm.After I've calmed down I sell the first batch of many,many cd's-they all want them signed and it starts to feel normal signing stuff.
I'm due back on in 40 minutes..I still have 6 songs they haven't heard but as you know they're short songs! I pick others from the first set to make up the 30 minutes and decide honesty is the best policy.I get the nod from the soundman and the circus rolls on-I'm pretty proud of the way it gets handled-this set is more light hearted-I tell the audience of my predicament and they smile-this fest has a 10 year history and they probably know the score for the guy in the tent! I tell them its radio hollowbelly on strict rotation-they laugh.some have returned some are new-they clap along, stomp, woop-that damn song 'southside girl' goes down a storm and defies yet again my secret desire to drop it from my set.It goes well and the crowd are with me once more.More cd's get sold, more tees..as I walk into the main hall to grab a quick look at the main acts the size of the place and the turnout is incredible.As I push past the punters I can see people nudging each other and pointing at me, mouthing Hollowbelly and suchlike.People pat me on the back.
At midnight I drift back and stand at the side of the stage like a tired boxer who's past his prime-holy cow there's another round coming up-I'm not Bruce Springsteen, and I curse myself bitterly for not writing/playing the laid back traditional 12 bar blues I've witnessed elsewhere..on the other hand I feel like a pro-its up against the wall time and I like it-I'm working, I'm earning great money and of course this is what its about-hard graft..I'm not in the realms of the bedroom guitar hero no more-this is what its like to earn a living wage no matter what business you're in-it involves good old fashioned hard work.I go back on and play again-I'm tired but I get through it-I give it my last ounce, then there's yet more cd selling and yet more Belgians saying beautiful things..we hear theres a backstage party but its 2am and all I want is my hotel bed.We get back to the castlelike hotel, Hilly clambers into his bed opposite and as I lie in mine I'm aching from the neck down-my head is buzzing but I eventually drift off.
Well dear reader, I met some wonderful people-the Festival organisers were consumately professional and treated me wonderfully.If you ever get the chance to play Blaublues then take it.I would especially like to thank the Belgian people for their support, warmth, enthusiasm, honesty, and passion.It was an absolute honour to play there.
