The truth (as well as the album) IS OUT THERE....

So... we've gone and done it. It's out there. 230503 is now out in the hands of the people.

The launch gig went very well, and was filmed. I certainly look forward to seeing it.

The reaction to the music has been overwhelmingly positive. I am humbled.

I had a nice moment with the album where I could go back and relive those moments of creation before I let it go. It was a very special moment.

There is but one stop left aboard the train-journey that has been 230503. And thats the full-album rendition.

I have never done a full album rendition of any of my own music before.

Another Path was played live before Not My Fault was written.

Eponymous was never performed in sequence with segues.

The rehearsals of this album have shown that we can not only play the album very competently, we can blow the studio version out of the water.

What a wonderful thing to do.

So thats the final stop before these parallel steel lines terminate, and we change trains for our next journey.

Right now I'm caught in reverie. This has been so much a part of my life.

I hope it becomes part of yours too.

Shine On's Pink Floyd Woe

Every band has one. That one show where something happens that plunges you into the unenviable position of having to swim, or sink.

All the stars had aligned for the Shine On show at Campbelltown CC's to be a musically spectacular evening. The five appearing musos all confirmed their attendance. We all had decent rigs, the stage space although small, allowed us to use the bulk of what we needed to do a good Floyd show, and we were doing a lot of my favourite material.

I had given Lach his copy of 230503. His reaction was so encouraging.

It was going to be a magic night.

Elle and Kat turned up, as did Becky who used to sing with us. All the stars were aligned.

Then Lachie had a bit of a vomit.

And another one
And another one

Then worse.

Oh dear. Our poster-boy percussionist was in serious gastronomic trouble.

Emergency contingency plans began to be mulled over. Some realistic, others not so....

After eliminating "You'll be OK if you don't think about it" as an option, partially due to a mad dash by the poor boy to the can for another technicolour yawn, we decided to pull out the big guns.

A 72 ltr garbage bin next to Lachie for gastric-juice collection.

An almost fool-proof plan. But we forgot to account for the other end.

As Lachie sat almost motionless behind the kit, a panicked look quickly spread, and he made strides off of the stage through the pub and into the can.

Gravity struck!

The poor guy was totally ensconced in the throne room, as we began to change focus from getting Lach into shape to getting a replacement for the show. With a distinct lack of brotherly presence (the bastard), the job fell to one of us. Not the best candidature from which to pick.

Lex: Never seen to play the drums.

Dean: Plays on some sleepers stuff, but needed for guitar (is frontman, after all), plus timing and consistency have never been his strong point. He's always been better at the after gig parties.

Dave: Not a dreadful drummer. But indispensable as the only person who knows what each of the 6 keyboards do. Plus, I can't play like Mason. At all.

Chris: A good drummer. But only has one arm, and without an elastic strap, or at least a roll of duct tape, stick/knub interface is made less practical given the defecit of fist.

The winner is: Dean.

After a panicked session of brainstorming --
Dave : So what are we doing?
Dean: Only stuff I can play...
Lex: What can you play?
Dean: No fucking idea...

We eliminated the ones that Dean felt were beyond his capabilities.

Goodbye Dogs and Goodbye Astronomy Domine.

Thank fuck we dropped Sheep.

To call the first set a triumph, given the situation that we faced is probably an understatement. At the best, we sounded like Pink floyd. At the worst we sounded like a Pub Rock band covering Pink Floyd. Given the fact we were in a pub, no real problem.

Set structure went out the window. All the big set pieces were in the first half as a result of the ad-hoc set list.

Dean played remarkably well and sang his parts from Lachie's thankfully unsoiled stool.

Lachie heard the whole thing from the Can -where at interval he was still reaching into the china bowl.

Lex and I convened to Cubicle three (Lach being in two) for an emergency conference with our drummer.

Lex stood on the toilet seat and adressed Lachie from above. I chose not to survey the scene of destruction.

Lachie said he was totally unable to even contemplate leaving the loo, other than to leave and follow his missus, who had just been sent to Campbelltown Hospital with much the same thing.

And so with a heavy heart we bid our adolescent skins-man farewell.

The thoughts then spead to the next problem. A second set of pieces Dean hadn't really tried.

Again, for the most part it was surprisingly successful. Kudos to the short man.

I think if the gig hadn't been so much FUN I'd have probably been disappointed with it, but the simple fact was it was just that- fun.

All the pressure of the big gigs, and all the ceremony and trimmings I love so much, removed and replaced with an intimacy and a 'who gives a fuck?' attitude reminded me of Department almost. I felt we did a great job under the circumstances and there was much laughing and smiling.

Dean certainly did the whole Spiderbait bit.

The gig ended with a very sore Dean and Chris and I down in the car-park beneath the pub talking about albums, production and sound. It's been a long long time since the three of us have hung out like that without anyone else or without some sort of agenda to work out. Had I not been working the next morning, some vintage sing-along-a-beatles under a tree in a park may have been in order.

That said, Dean could barely move.

Every band has these shows... I've been lucky. If thats my worse, we handles it fairly adeptly i'd wager...