Crimes to Music.

After over twenty years in my possession, I have to face facts: my guitar amp has been lost or stolen. 

Me and my Marshall Valvestate had a good innings. We'd been through a lot, from my earliest rhythm & lead guitar fumblings, to various incarnations of Big Day Out and beyond. It was my rehearsal companion, my vocal P.A. at small-scale gigs and - most recently - my piano stool when I didn't own a piano stool. It was also a cumbersome pain in the arse. We lost contact for a while, after I left it at a friend's house in Hove following a gig in Bognor...but we eventually had a tearful reunion. I then used it at a couple of previews of last year's stand-up show and left it at the venue because we had another date in the diary (which was eventually cancelled). I kept meaning to pick it up, didn't get around to it, and now it's vanished without a trace. Fuck it. 

It's not the venue's fault; it's mine. I should have gone to get it sooner. The staff were helpful and apologetic, but the general consensus was that someone probably helped themselves to it; I hope that carrying it gave them blisters. With a bit of luck it isn't properly earthed. So begins my acoustic period.   

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