I Used To Be A Bass Player...

I don't play live much these days, because for some reason Saturday nights which involve:

- Soozie
- A sofa
- A log fire
- A TV
- A can or cans of beer
- Going to bed. Not tired. Soozie's not tired. Yay!

seem to have more appeal than Saturday nights which involve:

- Loading amplifiers and guitars into the car (in the rain, always in the rain...)
- Setting off at six pm, driving for an hour
- Getting lost
- Asking directions from someone who turns out to be the stupidest man in England
- Finding the bar we're playing in
- Being scared because it's full of tattooed women (and we're not talking about cute little butterflies here, we're talking about tattoos that cause you to say "I like your T-shirt" and then look foolish)
- Setting up the P.A.
- Soundchecking
- Playing the first set
- Being asked in the interval if you know any Robbie Williams numbers
- Venturing an opinion that if projectile vomiting ever becomes an Olympic event Robbie Williams will be an essential part of the training programme
- Getting called a wanker
- Drinking lemonade because you're going to have to drive home
- Playing the second set
- Trying to convince the guitar player that to justify an encore, at least one member of the audience needs to have shouted "More!" Failing.
- Playing "I've Got My Mojo Working" in a bad temper
- Packing up the P.A.
- Listening to a drunk give you helpful tips "You're a good band but you'd be better if..."
- Getting paid thirty-five quid (no, each, it's not that bad)
- Loading amplifers and guitars into the car, rain, etc, etc.
- Setting off at midnight, driving for an hour.
- Getting home, drinking one beer
- Going to bed. Tired. Soozie's asleep.

I don't play live much these days.