The last few weeks were spent in a hazy rush, organising rehearsals, trying things out, getting a few songs together, and doing a myriad of things related to getting this band ready to stand tall at the ICA stage in May.
A thin layer of dust now covers the portastudio, a daily reminder that since booking the gig, the focus has shifted, and all our hours seem to disappear answering emails and doing odd jobs, best suited for a PR guru or band manager.
Following my instinct has paid-off and the confirmation I was hoping for came last week, at the studio in Fulham:
I have also taken the decision to shake the line-up a little, hardly to do with musical ability, but something rather harder to define, and impossible to spot straight away: the right vibe and connection, the right fit and feel.
We were trying out a laid-back version of 'Say Hello', with a countryesque, intimate feel, with this lovely, broken, small rhythm, eyes closed and playing the softest of slides. We hit the chorus and we started singing along - "... I say hello to all the drunkheads, all the prostitutes and freaks, I say hello to all the people in the world...".
I know the lines are simple, and holding it together are the 3 most basic guitar chords any dead busker can play, but then, something happened - I broke down, I mean, I really came apart.
It was as if, from being the one who 'addresses', I too became one of the 'addressees', and so did Drugstore; and for a moment I was hovering way above the studio walls, and from up there I could see all those tiny little ants, millions of them. Each one carrying on its back a little burdensome pack, filled with their stories, their joys and disappointments. Each one making its way up a hill, and carving a unique pattern, seemingly without logic or rule, just the best way they could.
And there we were, amongst the millions, lost in a maze of an almost infinite number of paths, locked in a studio somewhere in Fulham, on a grey saturday afternoon, singing our little song with eyes closed and open hearts, while a few blocks away, Chelsea fans, in a sea of blue, tried to enliven their weekend by hoping that a ball kicked by a man in shorts, would create the perfect arch into space and end defiantly inside the net.
It touched me very deeply, and at that moment I felt the finest silver thread weaving its way around us, and creating the early outlines of the bond that has started to link us together.
The path we're carving is seldom straight, it often veers slightly into unexpected territory, but now I know that we're definitely on the right track and furiously heading in the right direction.
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The Studio we've been renting out in Fulham and already feeling very attached to:
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