No sooner has the new year come and gone, it’s time to get on the road again. I mean that figuratively really, because I don’t actually tour per se, I mean it’s time to get back to work.
Obviously, trolleying off into the wild blue yonder in a yellow camper van to play some sun drenched festival to screaming fans is the dream, but January’s Guitar Club night is usually the first booking of the year. Typically, it's a twenty minute hop in the car through the pouring rain to Chichester, and this time doesn't disappoint. Regardless, I’ve always thought it appropriate to be the first gig of the year in many ways because the club is where the music portion of my life began to take shape properly. So…..
Back to the beginning....
Come with us now on a journey. Through time and space, to the world of…well, not The Mighty Boosh certainly, this is Crockerhill in Sussex, circa 2006.
I have a new neighbour, we’ll call him Eric. Eric is, (or now sadly, was) an endlessly enthusiastic, generous and friendly sort, quite literally in a permanent rapture as to the glorious wonders of music, mini golf and homegrown vegetables. Upon learning that I had “flirted” with playing the guitar for a few years, I was eagerly invited to join him at a new guitar club, his tutor Sally is running for her students at a local pub. I still believe the offer to join him was honest, and in the spirit of friendship and musical adventure, and that the fact that Eric needed me to drive him there on dark evenings was entirely secondary.
Everybody squeezed themselves into the bar, playing as many or as few of the songs as they felt able. The classic rock and pop of the 1960s, 70s and 80s appeared to be the tunes of choice, and to my surprise, I really quite enjoyed it. Which is lucky, because Eric LOVED it. Time passed, Sally became unable to run the club, and some of us stepped up….
And back to now....
It is now 2024. The venue has changed, but the format has little. What’s always a bit of a wonder to me is that many of the faces haven’t changed either. It’s a testament to the strength of Sally’s original concept and that original group of people, who, 18 years later, are still clocking in every first Thursday of the month to strum a few tunes. New faces and friends are great and valued, but here’s a special shout out for the old guard for the first gig of the year, you know who they are. It would literally not be the same without you.
Anyway....last night's club was surprisingly well attended, given that many of the roads around our way have been flooded for about 2 months now, and it's January. Nobody likes January. I didn't get any good photos last night, so I thought I'd keep driving down that partially flooded memory lane and dig out some of the oldest guitar club photos I could find. I may not be thanked for posting these ;-)
Eric is the one in the fourth picture btw, looking after all the ladies. The old smoothy.......
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