SWEAT, TEARS AND BLOOD

it's colin's birthday bash at the prince of wales
i meet up with j and a in the post office vaults
running on spanish time
no moments to linger
we climb the steep flight of steps up to the street
and hurry through victoria and chamberlain squares
past the council house
and statues and fountains all lit up
to the small L-shaped public house by the canal
we bag a small table and some stools by the door
and huddle over our ales
a fair few players are here tonight
and mic time will be precious
maybe just three songs
alert to my tuning problems the last time he was hosting
and mindful of the long bill
aidan asks me if i'm happy to use his takamine
rather than plugging in my own six-string
naturally i defer
(he's getting a great sound out of it after all)
i get my call and strap on aidan's tak
i wish colin many happy returns
and then launch straight into 'relationship'
immediately i am 100% in the zone
i spit out the words
while my hands and fingers move on auto-pilot
it is as if aidan's guitar is playing itself
the last chord sounds and brings me suddenly back to reality
i dedicate mikel erentxun's 'a un minuto de ti'
to our delightful spanish guest of the night
finishing with a decent version of 'claustrophia' dedicated to j
as i return to my seat
i receive plaudits for 'relationship'
('who wrote that song?' / '...er, well, actually...')
it's only after i sit down
that i notice that the fingers of my right-hand are bleeding!

RELATIONSHIP

I try to say what I want to say
Where there's a will there must be a way
To get my feelings off my chest
But it feels like climbing Everest

It doesn't matter what I say or do
I can't get through to you
My words fall upon death ears
I watch them splash into a pool of tears

All I'm looking for
Is a relationship

It's like driving up a one-way street
It's like kicking with two left feet
It's like Canute facing the waves
It's like the charge of the Light Brigade

All I'm looking for
Is a relationship

It's the loneliness I can't take
The disconnection
The only thing I crave
Is your attention

It's like yelling at an aeroplane
It's like screaming in a howling gale
It's like swimming to America
It's like digging to Australia

I can't reach you though you're so near
You can't see me though I'm right here
The sun is shining but I'm fading to grey
All my lifeblood is draining away

All I'm looking for
Is a relationship
I want nothing more
Than a relationship

THIS IS NOT WAR

LIVE AT THE BROWN LION

Thanks to JH for the camerawork!

WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON IN SYRIA?

bbc editors hang your heads in shame

THE SNOW MONKEY

QUANTUM LEAP

defying the divine intervention of several inches of snow

i play my first ever solo gig

at the brown lion in the jewellery quarter

o and j are there in support

(though there is no simpson)

it seems a long way from open mikes at the station last summer

more like playing in my front room

there is a flow that comes from rehearsing the material

allowing me to own the songs in a way i haven't up to now

the digital tuner i bought on tuesday proves a good investment

cutting down on the fiddling about between songs

the crowd is sparse but not unappreciative

there are even a few chuckles at some of my 'witticisms'

it's a pity that some people couldn't make it through the blizzard conditions

but there will be another time...

OCCUPY BIRMINGHAM

ten am in st philip's churchyard
it is bright sunshine but freezing cold
i lay out my guitar case
scattering a pound's worth of coins across it
and launch into lunatic driver
the guitar strings and fret board are freezing
and my fingers quickly go numb
as my digits navigate the neck of the guitar
i can barely finger the chords
local boy in the photograph fares little better
at least i can move my lips
gradually
as the sun slowly rises
and the songs proceed
i start to thaw a little
there is a steady flow of human traffic
but after half an hour i haven't received a penny
i'm just wondering whether to cut my losses
and try harborne high street instead
when at long last a little chinese chap tosses a pound coin into my case
i could almost hug him!
my spirits immediately lift
my reinvigorated playing seems to temporarily open the floodgates
and several more donations quickly follow
then i spot a couple of fluorescent-jacketed cops entering the far corner of the square
in seconds i have packed up and am heading to the other pitch i've identified
in the not-so-great eastern arcade
here most of the shops have closed down
but there's a decent footfall
again, after a slow start
the tips seem to gather momentum
despite the lack of sunshine
it is warmer here
the enclosed space boosts the sound of my unamplified voice and guitar
the proximity of passers-by creates a more intimate, shared feel to the street-scene
i'm doing well and starting to really enjoy myself
when i notice a small gaggle of house of fraser managers pottering around
they are looking a bit officious
a few minutes later two polite security people turn up and relay a message
the management wants me to clear off
apparently there a few visiting bigwigs at the store
and we wouldn't want to upset them now would we?
at least they seem apologetic
it feels like quite a gentle eviction but an eviction all the same
i use it as an excuse to buy a hot vegetable pasty and defrost for a few minutes
then i'm back in the square with similar results to last time
no luck for what seems like ages
then a rush of coins
i try to spot a pattern among my benefactors
to my surprise, on balance
i get more joy from older people
especially women
one gives me a welcome cup of hot vegetable soup!
on the other hand
ethnic minorities don't tend to give much
though there are some exceptions to these trends
i get quite a few pound coins but no notes
as the sun disappears behind a tower block
i'm just about to pack up and treat myself to a costa coffee
(a third-off-the-price happy hour from 3-5pm)
when i get pounced on by a street warden
dressed in a ridiculous yellow and purple alice in wonderland uniform
'you can't busk in the cathedral square' he says
i nod and pick up my stuff
('don't talk to the cops' i'm thinking)
'do you speak english?' street warden asks
i grunt and, leaving him standing there, head off to the cafe to rethaw
back in the great eastern arcade
the temperatures are seriously dropping again
i do a final burst without interruption
before i spot a couple more fluorescent jackets
i grab my case to avoid another lecture
and dart off to the station to catch the train home
glowing in the warmth of the train
i do the maths on one of the toughest days' work of my life
final accounts are disappointing but could be worse:
earnings = 12.68 from 4 sessions (about 45-50 minutes each)
outgoings (train, pasty, coffee) = 4.12
profit  = 8.56