You Give But Little…..

You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

The night was one of extreme weather conditions. The west of England was experiencing floods the likes of which had not been witnessed for decades. A man in Bath was found drowned in his car after driving at night.

During this spell of inclement elemental force a night was had in the smuggling sea side town of Hastings that was witnessed by a lucky collection of local inhabitants.

Scene opens in a crowded pub; pictures of fishermen line the walls with old tackle draped and propped up in various expressions of seamanship. Seats are filled, the bar is swelling nicely and the standing room is standing room only.

In the bay window lights flicker on bass amps. Reflections of illumination sparkle at you from the rims of the stripped down drum kit and a piece of chip board can be seen underneath a mic stand at the foot of an old oak pub chair.

The ambience and mood is filled with anticipation for they he audience alone have the knowledge of what is about to take place on this emotive night.

The act. Renowned. Known. Experienced. Weathered. Real.

He approaches the stage in an obvious world of purpose. He acknowledges his instrument with familiarity and slips seamlessly into routine as the speaker and conductor become one.

Final checks made, space, check. Mic levels, check. Guitar, check. Harp, check.

The rhythm section, the cause of the new buzz, sees their leader and also approach the stage. The look in their eyes reflected excited, contained, nervous capability.

Amps on; sticks in hand and groove beginning; bass pedal and ankle finding the biting point, bass finding it also; guitar rhythm in check with all else and then the voice makes itself known,
“Mic check, one, two, mic, check, one, two, this is a mic check, one two, one two, can everyone hear the bass, Yeah! Can everyone hear the drums, Yeah! Can everyone hear the voice, ooooooooohooooooooooohooooooooohoooooooooh, yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah, drop!

The gig has begun. Vibrations resound, peoples toes start to feel movement, the ground reverberating to the groove. Bodies and hearts starting to move.

Life, we lived today didn’t we? we did things today didn’t we? things that needed to be done, didn’t we? Who knows.

All I know is there was not a place that your head moved and your eyes saw nothing but pureness in every movement, eye look, hand dance, shoulder roll that was emanating throughout the crowd.

We rein in now for a moment to acknowledge the set. Songs of known genre but new words.

A rhythm of known timing ringing out but with new meaning.

Sweat dripping, artist a work, making real that which he knows in his mind.

Drums focussed and tight.

Bass. Is bass. Is bass. Is bass.

The crowd are warming, the voice is leading, the groove keeps on playing.

Time no longer an issue we have to worry about.

When your mind instructs you and you start to get thirsty, the half time bell rings and the band take a break. One attentive punter sees the opportunity and heads for the toilet before the end of the song. Knowing the rush will come. I see this as a patron of music, an experienced gig attender who knows the rules.

A good crowd to have.




Hand shakes.




New pint.


We are all in it together now.

They and we are communicating now.

They and we are feeling now.

They are playing music now.

The second set I must say passed by my ability to write about with much cohesion.

A synergy was found. They moved as one yet separate. The crowd rising ever further up the scale. In all bluntness, this rarely happens with such magnitude. A force was created inside of whirling rhythm and joy as passion and intellect combined forces with that of mother nature waging her war outside in the cold dark wet streets of the old town in this cultural haven.

The reason there was such a vibe…?

Well it is the twist. This night was a near perfect night. What review is good if it offers no objection? No creative, constructive criticism?

This night was the first night that these musicians had played together. Here is the key. We saw birth. We saw a music baby born in its glory. I have a keen ear, if a note was dropped I did not hear it. I heard only masterful ability. What happens in the future happens in the future. I am just glad I saw the sex, the gestation and the birth.

The act. Renowned. Known. Experienced. Weathered. Real.

The rhythm section, the cause of the new buzz tight in their symbiosis.


You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

Richard Lock

(Photo courtesy of The Dolphin pub)


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