Blogs

Ted Crocker custom instrument for Harrison Withers.  

EDIT:  Finished instrument

A gorgeous slab of walnut from Sid Workman

Update:  January 5, 2012

I spent a lot of time letting the wood make up it's mind to what it wants to be.  After sketching with chalk, the Goose emerged from inside.  I brought out that grain with grape seed oil.

Update:  January 6, 2012

The basic shape is cut out with a jig saw

Rough sanding is done with sanding barrels on the drill press

Next sanding step is with the palm sander  to get the shape closer to final.  There's lots more sanding, plus the edges wlil be rounded over with the router.

Update:  January 8, 2012

I didn't want to spoil the Goose headstock with tuners, so I'm working out a way to keep it 'headless'...

Here's an idea to move the tuners to the body.  

Spent a little more time imaginating...

Update:  January 9, 2012

I got to go crazy today.  Used a round over bit in the router to , er, round over the edges.  

After that i used the palm sander to get it pretty good, then hand sanded it.  Still more sanding before it's done, but pretty close now.  The Goose is awesome!!

This is what she looks like with a quick wipe of grape seed oil

Update:  January 12, 2012

Made the cavities for the controls and for the jack.  Drilled for pots & switch and jack/jack cup

I used a 12" drill through the jack hole to connect the cavities

Tele style jack cup

OOPS, forgot to update this back then with final shots.

New Build! This LBG was built this morning by my eight year old (youngest) son. I think he's getting the bug!

Enjoy the looks but don't hold your breath for a sound check! :)

I received bemuzic's CD 'Playing (No Rules)' this morning and have been playing it ever since.

Beautiful voice, beautiful tunes. Belinda this is a real treat. Thank you...

Follow the link below to have a look/purchase it for yourselves.

 http://bemuzic.bandcamp.com/

Song writing Lesson.
Recipe for an easy blues song.

3 lines per verse.  First and second lines are the same words.

The third line ends in a word that is a rhyme or near rhyme for the last word in the first lines.

The third line resolves or answers or somehow completes what was said in the previous 2 lines.

The first line is often about 12 syllables give or take a few syllables. The third line is about the same.

Classic example from John Lee Hooker

The chord structure shown can be used for many songs/
Here, I is a G, IV is a C and V is a D.

I read your (I) add this morning,
you said you want a real good man.

I read your (IV) add this morning,
you said you want a real good (I) man.

Now I’m (V)here for you honey and (IV) I wanna
know your (I) plan. (V)

Near rhyme – different song – same pattern:
If the river was whiskey and I was a diving duck. (x2)
I would swim to the bottom, drink my way back up.

Duck and up are NEAR RHYMES.

2 to 4 verses is a nice length
Songs often end by repeating a verse at the end.

Practice verses- you write the 3rd line:

I got a 3 string, a 4 string,
a deuce and a diddley bow. (x2)
__________________________________________

3rd line has to end in a rhyme or near rhyme for bow.
So: The grass is gittin long, I gotta go out and mow.
Better: I got 4 cbgs and I want to build some more.

I got tuners from Gitty
and a tail piece made of brass. (x2)

______________________________________________

I want to loop like bemuzic and pick like keni lee (x2)

__________________________________________

I want a Brickdust haircut and a hat like Uncle John (x2)

_________________________________________________________

Hope you get the idea, hope you have some fun.

Jackson’s Luck

By John R. Bolton

Early March 1919
Southbound on the I.C. (Illinois Central Railroad)

Willie Jefferson and Jackson Black rode in the colored car sharing a pint bottle of whiskey in a paper sack. They were in a celebrating mood and bound for home after Willie had achieved his dream of recording his songs in Memphis.

Willie was so happy and self satisfied he would just start chuckling and
then tilt his head back and cackle. Jackson told Willie, “Tone it down,
man. You’ll get us in troubles. Our good luck can turn to shit real fast.”

Willie just laughed again and replied, “Maybe you’s right Jackson.
I feels a head ache comin’ on. Gots to lay off this good liquor.”

It was more than a head ache. Soon Willie’s back ached and then his whole body. His throat hurt and he was starting to sniffle and cough. As the train slowed for the home station, Willie said, “Man, I hopes this shit aint the Spanish flu.”

Jackson helped Willie get home and was met there by Willie’s daddy, who told him, “Better get on home Jack. Your momma’s real sick.”

Word of the flu had been spreading faster than the flu itself. Jackson prayed it was just a bad cold going around. That prayer was not answered the way he wished. His momma barely woke when he got home. She told him weakly, “Stay back Jack. I don’t want you getting what I got.”

“Too late, Momma. I think I gots it too.”

Jackson did a little for his mother and then Miss Ethel, the old midwife and plant doctor, stopped in and checked on them both. Jackson soon felt like he had been run over by a team of horses. Every muscle ached and every cough made it worse. He had the chills and shakes and could not get warm. He laid on his pallet of blankets and coughed and suffered.

Miss Ethel came by in the morning and let herself in. Jackson’s momma
who was only thirty six years old, had passed away. Two days later Jackson lost his best friend. Willie passed too.

Miss Ethel came by twice a day to put mustard plasters on Jackson’s chest and back and to admonish him to take ten deep breaths an hour and hold them in for a count of three so’s he would not get pneumonia. Jackson did that and was able to attend his mother’s burial in the colored cemetery. There were more fresh graves than he’d ever seen

His mother’s funeral was a blur to him. He was physically better for Willie’s funeral. Willie’s daddy played the old hymns on his fiddle and the right Reverend Johnson said the eulogy. Willie thought Jackson would have wanted him to play, but there was no way he could sing or blow his harp without coughing.

* * *

Two weeks and two paydays later, Jackson packed his momma’s satchel with a wool blanket, his spare pair of trousers, two spare shirts, socks his momma made, underwear and a picture his momma holding him when he was just a button.

The neck of Willie Jefferson’s cigar box guitar poked out one end of the satchel, covered with an oil cloth. Jackson wore a good second hand suit, and a good hat cocked to the side. He carried two harmonicas in his pockets. These were the harps he had played for Willie’s record. He wished Willie’s daddy had given him the store bought guitar instead of the cigar box. He might need to stand on the corner and play for change like he’d seen done in Memphis. You never knew.

Jackson was bound for Chicago and the hope of more opportunities and a better life. Friends walked him to the station, laughing and joking and wishing him well. He was taking that Cannonball train north. The freedom train. Leaving Mississippi in style.

Leaving Mississippi in style was a bit of a sham he put on for his friends. He departed the passenger train at the first stop in Tennessee. His ticket would take him no further. He had money enough to ride to Chicago. But he thought it could take time to find work and he wanted to get there with money in his pocket.

Jackson was both excited and afraid. He had never stolen a thing in his life excepting produce that he ate while working the fields and fruit off a tree here and there. Now he planned to steal a ride north on an IC freight train.

He’d heard stories about how to do it. Never take a car with any whites. Hop aboard a slow moving train on a curve so there would be less chance the engine crew or the brakeman would see you. No matter what, don’t get locked in a box car. Don’t ride in a car full of grain or it might suck you down and suffocate you.

Jackson’s first ride could not have started much better. He hopped on a flat car and tucked in snug and out of the wind behind a load of wooden crates marked for a destination in Chicago. Jackson could not believe his good luck when he read the destination.

Hours later the freight was shunted to a side track in Effingham, Illinois in a rail yard to the side of the downtown area. Jackson read the town name rolling in, but had no good idea where he was except still short of his destination.

It was late evening and dark. The train sat there. After a while Jackson pulled out his blanket and wrapped up in it. He managed some sleep, but woke up cold and hungry in the late dawn. He was peeking around wondering what he should do and how long the train might sit. Someone unseen shouted out, “Hey! There’s a nigger on that flat car!”

Jackson grabbed his satchel and scrambled off the side of the car away from the voice. He sprinted then loped toward a small timber in the direction away from town. As he reached the timber’s edge he looked back and was relieved to see no pursuit.

He smelled wood smoke and spotted a white man sitting by a fire. The man called out, “Over here Bo,” and beckoned him with an arm. It took a bit more urging on the man’s part, before Jackson warily approached. On closer inspection, the white man looked old. Around sixty, Jackson guessed. The old man asked, “Headin’ north or south?”

“North,” Jackson replied. “Chicago, I hopes.”

The man told Jackson to call him ‘Dollar Dick’. Dick was a hobo. He explained to Jackson that tramps work when they are forced to, and bums don’t work at all. “Hobos,” he said, “Are workin’ men who travel, who ride the rails between jobs.”

Dollar Dick was heading for Minnesota by way of Chicago. He said, “That rattler you rode in on is leavin’ here at 12:30. When the noon whistle blows we walk up the track a piece and away we go.”

Dick shared hard boiled eggs with Jackson and spent the wait and later the ride asking Jack about his life and taking him to school on how to ride the rails, find work in the city and just plain get along. They parted as friends in Chicago, Illinois.

Around suppertime, Jackson stood at the bar of a crowded tavern in a colored section on the south side of Chicago. He’d taken the edge off his hunger with free crackers, cheese and hard boiled eggs in the tavern. He had a cold beer in his hand and he was drinking with a friendly, big Louisiana man named Dupree. Dupree had a place Jackson could sleep and would help him get him work a loading dock.

Jackson could not believe his good luck. He wished Willie could see him. He wished his momma could see him. That caused him to wipe away a tear.

Dupree bought him a beer for the road. It was Jackson’s fourth. They strolled off toward Dupree’s place. They walked a few blocks and Jackson marveled at all the houses, buildings and people. They hit a dark patch and an alley in the middle of a block. Dupree suddenly rushed Jackson and knocked him down sprawling. The next thing he knew, there was a shiny revolver in his face and Dupree was snarling, “Gimme your money, you dumb Mississippi nigger.”

Jackson hesitated and then started to struggle. Dupree, shoved Jackson’s face with the heel of his hand and slammed him in the side of the head with the pistol. Things went red and dark in an explosion of pain.

The next thing Jackson clearly knew was that Dupree was gone and blood was rapidly oozing from a gash in the side of his head and down his neck. His satchel was there, its contents strewn on the ground. His shoes were off and that left him stunned and puzzled. Did Dupree steal his shoes?

He held a hand to his bleeding head and groped around with the other hand. His money was gone. His good hat was gone. But his shoes and every other possession were there. He thought to himself, ‘I’m still lucky. If he’d a took my shoes I would be in a real bind.’

Through the kindness of a stranger, his head was sewn up. Six nice stitches with red thread, done by a kind woman from Jackson, Mississippi. But she had children on her floor and no room for Jackson. He slept on her porch that night. Or tried to sleep.

He had no success finding any kind of a job that next day. He did not look or feel his best. Late in the day his stomach was gaunt and it sounded like it was calling him every bad name it knew.

He found a tin can for tips and stood in front of a shoe repair place near 35th and State Street. He played the cigar box guitar and the harps and made enough to eat that night and had twenty cents held back for breakfast.

Funny thing. Jackson still felt lucky.

* * *
Historical Notes

Spanish Influenza was a nearly worldwide pandemic from 1918 to 1920. Approximately 25% of the world population was infected and about 3% of the world population died from the flu. Unlike most epidemics, most of those who died were young adults.

The Great Migration: 6 million blacks moved out of the southern United States between 1910 and 1970 ~ leaving the rural south for urban industrial cities of the northeast, midwest and later the west.

Blimey, last night was Cigar Box Guitar Central at my gaff. Hollowbelly dropped by to collect his new "Pyronator" 4 string reso...and Roosterman was on the phone to both of us.

Mr HB gave my latest creation a thorough test...I don't think I've ever been so nervous having someone play one of my guitars...then he requested a minor adjustment....so  I made a new nut, altered the action & string spacing, did a rough fit...HB tested it..them I did a final fit for the new nut, final test...it was like doing a fitting at a trad.  Saville Row tailor's shop.  Man...is he intense when he gets going on a guitar!  Judging by what I heard, his next album is going to be ripping.  

I also took on the task of fitting a new pickup to another of his guitars (bit too much of a job to do on the spot, so it's with me for a short while) and I gave him another 4 string reso (which I just happened to have handy) on indefinite loan as a backup for his forthcoming European tour...blimey..luthier and guitar tech to the stars!!

Hi, the rust method is my favourite too as you get a better penatrarion and as you say leaves a hint of grain showing. If you need a total dense black try an old 78 record, the really brittle ones that smash to smithereens when dropped and dissolve well in some cellulose thinners before applying. prone to chipping but gives a nice old antique look if the distressed finish is preferred. I favour gun stock oil for the former finish but I understand it is banned in the states?

All the best, Chris. :)

My Wife lost her battle with Cancer today at 3:30 PM. She died in my arms just  after I whispered it was OK to go to sleep.They took her away in a beautiful White  Hearse .We've been together at work and at play, side by side for almost 35 years.It's a very empty world right now.

I'm starting work on a series of guitars with walnut necks, ebonized walnut fingerboards, ebonized walnut bridges and laminated walnut & maple tail pieces. Even the internal bracing will be walnut - something to look pretty when the box is opened.

Yeah, I have a stockpile of walnut I need to do something with.

The fingerboards are matched to the necks - cut off the top of the neck, sanded, ebonized and fretted, then glued back onto the neck just as they came off.  A neat idea and simple to do, but I'm not sure it'll be noticeable with the ebonizer on the fingerboards.

I've not made a pure walnut neck until now and I'm not sure how it will deal with the pull of the strings.  The necks are 3/4" thick before I carve them and the finger boards are 3/16" thick.  Hopefully thats enough to keep it from warping.  My oak necks are the same dimensions and have no problems at all with warping.

hi there    just signed in    !!         Nice to be here!!     keep sliding and ..... smoking!!   xavier

Just as I seemed to get better with my medical problems my wife seemed to falter as she took care of me.We now find she has lung and bone cancer,stage 4.We tried  chemo and radiation but she was already so weak we had to stop treatments and bring her home.Hospice is now helping me care for her and I'm on medical leave so I can stay home with her.As it stands ,although we know the eventual outcome we try to keep things here at home as normal as possible.But ,its hard,very hard.

hey, my first blog post, and i actually have something to say.

my dedicated CBG pickup website is up!

i have a few different models on offer, all of which i am very happy with, and all of which i use myself.

there's schematics and mounting details and spec's and a bit of general silliness.

all my electro-magnetic pickups (i don't do piezos), are designed and hand wound by me in Adelaide, Australia.

check it out if you can...

unclerobspickups.com

i am currently in the throes of putting together sound samples - which just makes me aware of my playing limitations!

nevermind,

e

I went out to the garage, but found I’d already fretted everything that was ready.  So I found a neck that wasn’t ready, grabbed my son Jed to run the camera, and fretted it anyway.  It was mostly ready, but I usually like to stain and/or finish the necks before fretting them.  This neck was for an experimental cigar box guitar, so it doesn’t really matter anyway. (Thanks to Jed for being a good sport and helping me track down the tools I couldn’t find after misplacing them during my mad building spree a couple weeks back… and then sticking around the cold garage to take pictures too.)

So the first step is cutting the frets slots in your neck, which I’ve covered in How & Why: A Do It Yourself Guide. Not much has changed since then.  I still haven’t bought a miter box.  I’m pretty sure one day I’m really gonna kick myself for that. However, here’s what has changed since I wrote the book.  I no longer cut all my frets to length, shape them, and then install them on the neck.  Here’s my new method.

Installing Frets with a 'Fret Hammer'

First off, I set the tang of a length of fret wire into the fret slot and then tap it in using a fretting hammer.  In the picture below, the first two frets were from the beginning of a new piece of fret wire and had nice square ends, so they could be lined up with the edge of the fretboard.  However, when you cut the fret with an end nippers, it leaves one side square and one side pointed.  You could turn the fret wire around and cut the end square, or you can just hang it off the end of the fretboard a fraction of an inch, then come back and trim it off later.  The latter method seems to go faster.

A fretting hammer is about $20 from Steward MacDonald and comes with a plastic head on one side and a brass head on the other.  However, you can pick up something similar to that from Harbor Freight for about $6.  It comes with a plastic head on one side and a soft rubber head on the other.  I’ve always found the rubber side to be too soft to be much good  but the plastic is hard enough to tap in frets without marring them.  Another option might be covering the end of a regular hammer with thick leather.  I’ve never tried this, but it seems like it might work.

Anyway, I start on the side of the neck farthest from me.  I tap in that side and work towards myself.  Usually it takes 2 – 3 taps. You want to tap hard enough to get the tang all the way into the wood so that the crown is against the fretboard, but not so hard that the fret is slightly indented into the neck.

Tapping in fret with fret hammer

Once you’ve tapped your fret into place, cut the end flush with the neck using an end nippers.  You can buy special fret cutters which are shaped to cut closer to the edge of the fretboard, but they’re 2 or 3 times as expensive as an end nippers from the hardware store, so I go with the end nippers. They’ll cut real close. In fact, if you’re not careful, you’ll sometimes nick the wood.

Cutting fret to length with end nippers

Installing Frets with a Wood Block

Here’s another method for installing frets.  I mostly covered this in the book, but there’s a slight change. Instead of cutting the frets to length and then tapping them in, you can set the fret wire in the slot (with the pointed end hanging off the edge slightly), set a hardwood block on top, and tap it into place.  My favorite piece of wood to use is the tapered piece I remove the neck to get it to fit the box.  It’s rather thin at one end so it’s just wide enough to cover the fret.  The other end is a bit wider for hitting with the hammer.  The thin side makes it easier to hit just one fret when they’re getting close together.  It also make it less likely that you’ll accidentally hit your fretboard with the edge of your block.

Pressing fret into slot before positioning wood block

Tapping fret in with wood block and claw hammer

As I mentioned above, it pays to be careful with your wood block.  Keep it as vertical as you can to avoid hitting the fretboard and leaving a divot.  I’d like to say I did this intentionally to show the “wrong way to do things” but the truth is, I’m just out of practice with this method and got careless.

Divot caused by not holding wood block straight up and down when hammering

Here’s what you end up with.  All the frets cut flush on one side, and hanging off just a little bit on the other.

All frets tapped into the neck

Frets hang over edge of neck on one side and need to be cut to length.

Just go down the length of the neck cutting all the frets flush with the edge of the fretboard.

Cutting all frets flush with edge of neck using end nippers

Dressing the Fret Ends

Now you’ll just need to dress the end of your frets.  I find it easiest to do them all at once.  If you’re careful, you can do it without damaging the neck or finish. Take a fine metal file and hold it at about a 30 to 45 degree angle to the end of the frets.  Then just move it up and down the length of the neck filing an angle on the end of all the frets until the edge of that angle is flush with the edge of the neck.

Filing fret ends

This will sometimes leave the tang of the fret protruding a bit from the side of the neck.

This picture shows (kind of) that the fret tangs are still protruding from side of neck.

This can be remedied by holding the file almost flat against the neck (angle it just a tiny bit) and filing the end of the fret tangs.

Filing end of frets

Now you’ll probably want to round off the end of the frets.  I bought a double edge fret file from Steward MacDonald for doing this.  Mine will do both narrow and medium frets, which is all I use.  It’s kind of expensive at about $39, but it makes things SO easy.  I just hold it at an angle to the end of the fret and then round it off with one stroke.

Rounding end of frets with fret file

This shows two frets that have been rounded, and two that still have sharp edges. It also shows the divot I created with a badly aimed wood block.

If you don’t have the fret file, the ends can be rounded using a 3 sided file.  I have never done a whole neck like this, just individual frets that had to be replaced.  It works best if you use something to protect the neck.  Of course Stewart MacDonald has a special tool for this, but you can also just use a piece of aluminum cut from a soda can. Just lay it next to the fret so you don’t nick the neck with the edge of the file.

Rounding fret ends with 3 sided file, using piece of can as a guard.

No matter how you do it, you may want to hit the edge of all the frets with a sanding block when you’re done.  Just wrap some fine sandpaper around a piece of wood, hold it at an angle (like you did with the file), and run up and down the edge of the frets a couple times.  This will smooth out any file marks.

I've lived in Northern California all my life just about, with a small stint on Grandfolks Cherry farm in Salem Oregon.....in the late 60s.

I've never lived in Southern CA. But that made it no less so shocking to learn of this particular part of our history here, which I simply did not know about.  --I'm not even sure how I did come to find out about it just three weeks ago...it may have crossed my ears in a news blurb on the tele .. to the computer I went, and googled it up "Santa Susana"...this song, the result......And lot's of reading...My way of processing the mind boggling info, is to say my two cents worth. Sometimes I wish I were not a naturally curious sort, who loves to learn. Sometimes learning, is not nice.

Most of the facts in this song, based in truth, gleaned in a course of research, online. The numbers do conflict (because "no one can agree"). "458 times"  is also found in articles as 240 times (higher radiation than Three Mile Island) I've written about two separate events within the song, one occurring in July '59 (reactor meltdown). and the other in 1994 (explosion from illegal waste burning resulting in the death of two men, injury of a third.) However,...there were even MORE mishaps in connection with this site. And coverup. Will we learn by our mistakes? I'm a parent, and so I certainly hope so. The next generation and all those thereafter and so on, depend upon it.

 In 1959 I lived in Redding CA. Some of my first "remembered" events were seeing shockingly beautiful and brilliant summer sunsets in what I'm fairly certain would have been the year of 1959. I have exactly 4 memories that took place in 59. At age two you don't remember alot!!  These sunsets were epic, not average skies--they were RED, Orange, Purple!! ...now I wonder,,,,perhaps they were radioactive sunsets? Modern day pollution here, rather than going West to East, and depending on the prevailing winds....sometimes travels South to North...mountain ranges penning it the flow, perhaps. I likely have slide captures of those sunsets, in the basement......(my G'ma a photographer)....she loved to learn, as well.

My heart goes out to the countless people who have been directly affected, are ill or who have lost family members, sometimes multiples! and the countless others who perhaps don't even know yet, that they were exposed. And the many who will never know justice or reparation. The "things you knew" refers to the overseers in charge, employees who as government employees could not speak about the nature of their jobs, they were sworn to secrecy. There are some Santa Susana lab techs still living who have lent eye witness accounts of the meltdown in '59. The "things you knew"  also refers to the very buildings themselves which have been torn down and taken away..(destroy the evidence?)...and the chemical contaminated dirt of the mountain itself which is undergoing "cleanup"....I read that truckloads of dirt have been trucked north, to Kern County......nice. And the controversy continues to this day as to the methods to clean up the site which is now not in operation. .

the Wikipedia page is a good read and place to start as well as simply googling it, there a wealth of info out there....
this educational vid is fairly concise, too:

History Channel
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRdC5I0Yn2k&feature=player_embedded

Facebook page connecting survivors, with links to "cancer map"
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Secrets-of-the-Santa-Susana-Field-Laboratory/337364244819

Slap in the face by Boeing:
http://www.boeing.com/aboutus/environment/santa_susana/healthstudy.html

a SSFL employee's account:
http://www.vcstar.com/news/2009/jul/12/field-lab-meltdown-50-years-later-delayed-59-for/

I'm no activist.....this is my say, my 2 cent "take" on a tiny part of the big old world.....
In looking back at my Mom's lifetime of produced artwork, I, as well as my Dad noted the somber and
almost depressed style she painted in, in the late 50s early to mid 60s...the "cold war and assassination era"
.....she was troubled in her heart and, and it never surfaced in word, but on canvas, it did. A little like my mom,
my "troubledness" is exorcised in song. Post war many were in a race for power, a race for space, likely the root of all evil=$$$ a cause for the push, too!!!

.....and California was a player, paying a huge price, to play.

I promise, a happier subject next time....!!

"Santa Susana"(the things you knew)

Where were you in July  of 59?
I was a wee lass of only two......
Out here in the West
They were experi-menting .....
Oh Santa Susana the things you knew , you knew..
Santa Susana the things you knew, you knew...
Oh.............

Your Safety is our business, is what the
Cap he wore, it said
Atomics International led the race
N.uclear E.nergy R.esearch and
D.evelopment
You can call it NERD
Let me lay some truths on you
Some things you may not
Have ever heard..........

It was a hot day, at the Hot Lab
That sad day in July...
No containment structure meant
The particles could fly
Mayday mayday meltdown!
It was the battle cry
Fire in the fourth reactor
Cap it lest we die,
Lest we die,..
Oh..........

They named it worst in US  history,
But I did not know it
Did you, did he, did they,...did she?
Did you know it?
mostly it was hushed and covered
till cover it they could no more
Boeing paid up 30 million
then stepped outside the
courtroom door
for plaintif Margaret-Ann
it shoulda been
shoulda been, much more,
much more, much more
oh............

458 times over, the
Radiation count
Higher than Three Mile Island's
later tallied score
The open air sodium burn pit
it was no Bar-B-Que........
22 out of 27,
of that government lab coat crew,
oh
22 died of their cancer,
I'd say that's quite a few,
Wouldn't you?
Oh .................

Oh RocketDyne, Oh RocketDyne
some how it don't seem so fine
That you'd ignite all those barrels
Full of waste
Doing their job there, in that place
Up went Mr Heiney, and Mr Pugh
they were blown to kingdom come, whoa
the sacrificial few
 whoa oh

You can't undo that
Which cannot be undone
It's the gift that keeps on giving
Nowhere to hide
And nowhere to run
Can it ever be, can it ever be forgiven?
The price to pay, it's an unknown
On which no one can agree
Zero to Eighteen Hundred
Is what the Sooths have shown ,
We'll see, we'll see, We'll see, Won't we?

Where were you in July of '59?
I was a wee lass of only two......
Out here in the West
They were experi-menting .....
Oh Santa Susana the things you knew , you knew..
Santa Susana the things you knew...you knew
Oh,..........

Copyright
LaurieLeeC
Nov 16th 2011

I pass the door at least twice a day...

I wake up nervous on Saturday morning-tonight I play my (unbelievably) first northern gig-a mere 25 miles from my birthplace-my twin brother will be there.People are travelling there and staying in hotels-I want it to be good.I'd planned to try out some of the new tunes from the as yet unrecorded next album, but both guitars I need have developed faults days before-still, every cloud has a silver lining-it forces me to pad out the set with some extra storytelling-a gamble which I think pays off on the night.It adds a more entertaining dimension to my set.

                            Confidence returns as I drive up the M6.I pop into me dads for a quick cup of tea before setting off for the venue.I arrive at The Cheshire Ring pub-an unassuming building you might happily drive past without so much as a second,or even first, glance.Ah but outward appearances are, well, just that.

          Mark C greets me and takes me in to the pubs bar-its a proper pub,not a wine bar,theme pub,fake oak beam and horsebrass pub- its a pub like they used to be.Its real.This pub did not have its heart ripped out in the eighties and now it sits, like a grand old man, comfortable in its own skin.I have no idea as yet that tonight I will experience a spiritual homecoming,that I will be reminded of who I really am,and that I could move as far south as Australia, but would still remain forever Northern.I am surrounded by people who speak with accents like mine,they are warm,blunt without being rude,straight,we share a common culture.I guess all this sounds pretentious but its not and I'm gonna tell it like it is,so there! I'm sitting here writing this on the south coast and for the first time in decades I feel a foreigner..that I have indeed lost something, that there is an unseen cultural umbilical cord that will never break no matter where I go.

           Mark looks after me as promoters do, curry,drinks,complimentary goodies,including a rather large high quality gig poster..

He has assured me that everyone who plays here loves it-let me tell you he wasn't lying.As soon as you walk into the room you feel it.The sound is incredible-soundcheck is absurdly straightforward and free of the usual problems that haunt 90% of shows.There is nothing like a great soundcheck to boost a performers' confidence-and a poor one vice versa.

              The support band are a charm,and whilst Great Britain watches soul destroying Saturday night tv, we are treated to politically aware tunes whose NWO bashing content reinforces the fact that I am indeed amongst my own.As I walk towards the stage to play the nerves are gone and I suggest to the audience that they should be at home watching X factor and some celebrities in the jungle.I warn them that their brains are not yet smooth enough and that cops will soon arrive to casually pepper spray them until they are forced back to their homes to sit in front of their 52 inch televisions to watch vacuous shite.This venue is great-the room is above the pub-there is no reason to come up here unless you are a music fan-it is its own little world,devoid of pretention,subtle,gently,ever so slightly subversive-a real ale, real music pub-against the grain of consumer bollocks without ever shouting about it.As I play the audience have smiles so wide it looks like they have invisible hooks pulling their mouths up at each corner.They never stop smiling the whole set! Some mouth along the words to the songs..it all falls together,and I play what is probably my fave ever show.I know I'll be back here for sure.

(photo credit-Dan Wilcox)

         Mark buys me a pint and as there is no Guinness they suggest a pint of Mild (Christ I've been down South so damn long I'd forgot about Mild) -and on my first sip about 4 different flavours dance across my tongue.Hell, do we realise what we are losing by all consuming the same mass produced commercial stuff? 

         So there we have it-The Verge at The Cheshire Ring pub in Hyde, Manchester.Treat yourself one day,go there and rediscover something you might not even be aware you have lost.

                                          HB

Well, I've been pretty busy lately...trying to get my back-log of work reduced, and deperately trying to juggle all sorts of other stuff. My workshop customer orders has kept me away from going on the road to guitar shows, but last weekend I finally managed to get out to Liverpool and do a show. It went pretty well, but this was the first time I'd had stuff stolen from the stand...even with two of us on duty, those naughty Scousers managed to lightfinger a few bottlenecks and DVDs...my first vist to Merseyside, and at least some of the locals managed to live up to their reputation!

I also did another school 'make and play' guitar building day in Sheffield which was very tiring but seemed to go down very well.  

Hopefully I'll have got a good deal of the backlog out of the way by Christmas....and I've just been chasing the publishers about when I'll get my first consignment of the "Handmade Music Factory" book..soon I hope!!! Also hoping for another batch of resonator cones and covers to arrive very shortly, as the first load sold out pretty quick, leaving me with just a few to complete my own custom orders.

Onwards and upwards...