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Showing posts from September, 2022

How Low Can You Go?

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Despite being a bassist for twenty-five years, and probably considering it my first instrument (though that's a bit of a fluid subject), I've only ever owned one bass guitar: my trusty Tanglewood replica of a violin bass. So I think I was entitled to upgrade to a real Hofner, which I finally did this week. Arty Hofner shot (as it's known in the trade). I approached this purchase with guilt and trepidation, as I do when I buy anything significant, despite paying in instalments and not being expensive for what it is. Surely I'm allowed a new bass every quarter-century? Particularly when it's literally* for work. And yet I can't shake the sense that I'm treating myself at a time when money's tight (and that's before today's massive fall in the pound's value on the stock market, which I probably triggered by buying it). However, I bought it to be better equipped next time some muso work comes up. While my old bass has done remarkably well conside

Watch It.

In the interest of tying up a few loose ends related to my recent Edinburgh Fringe adventures, I thought I'd share videos of two shocking events that occurred there. (Brace yourselves.) The first documents a washing machine with musical aspirations. View this post on Instagram A post shared by David Ephgrave (@ephgraveseyeview) The second shows at least one way my digs stuck the knife in. View this post on Instagram A post shared by David Ephgrave (@ephgraveseyeview) Popcorn, anyone?

Truss No One.

While the death of the Queen last week inevitably overshadowed the arrival of the new Tory Prime Minister, Liz Truss, I hope this won't lead to decreased scrutiny. It's hard to fathom that she's the most popular and competent candidate the Tories could rustle up to lead the UK, but I guess that's what happens when you leave the decision to 0.2% of the population. How can someone who sounds like she's voiced by Speak & Spell and curtseys like she didn't spot a dropped curb in front of her be in charge of our nuclear codes? Her speeches are more wooden than every Center Parcs put together, and the civil service nickname her the "human hand grenade", and yet she still nabs the top job. If nothing else, her promotion continues our ongoing Prime Ministerial decline. It's like watching The Doctor regenerate in the most budget way possible after switching from BBC1 to QVC. You can only fold a piece of paper seven times, and yet the Conservatives can p