A musical interlude:

Tuesday's gig went really well! We independently got to Glasgow and set up our gear in the Liquid Ship, then retired to Gambrino's Pizzeria for some food. After all, man cannot rock on lunch alone. We threw the grub down our throats with nervous energy, talked ourselves up over a calming beer and headed back to the bar to catch the last acoustic act before we took to the stage ourselves. Charlie's fellow medical types had turned out in pleasingly large numbers, as had the Captain (a man who really, really wants Coba Fynn to do well but who thinks we're crap) and Hannah.

After Davis/d(e) and Charlie had minutely tuned their guitars with the volume all the way up for the audience's benefit, we gamely skiffled our way into the Belle & Sebastian stylings of David Lynch's Lunchbox Blues. Apart from some slightly over-loud bass (at least I'd remembered to turn it on), it slipped past in three short minutes of indie goodness. We finished, they clapped, and the 'Fynn was back.

We proceeded through old and new songs for the next twenty minutes or so. Cracks in the rhythm section's composure appeared and healed up periodically, while the tuning of Charlie's guitar proved somewhat elusive. We got to Locomotive Blues, barrelled messily but (I think) winningly through it and ended on a high note. G, if I remember rightly. They clapped again and a few die-hards shouted "More!" We politely declined (Charlie: "We don't know any more,") and called it a night. Even the Captain was impressed. The first test is over, and a few more practices are all that stand between us and the main event at Cabaret Voltaire on the 29^th.

This band shit is awesome.

On Saturday night, the musical shenanigans continued. Ash, Jez, Serena and I went to Henry's Cellar Bar to watch an acoustic set by Mark Morriss of the newly rehabilitated Bluetones. We wound up in the Cameo Cinema bar; I wound up drunk, and Mark wound up being subjected to a half-hour, blow by blow account of our recent tour of the South. Good times!s