mostly david ephgrave

Tonight, I met with Glyn and Stephen to record Sunday's episode of our radio show In Your Inner Ear, barely minutes (or days) after we committed the last one to tape (or MP3).  Tonight's show felt considerably less frenetic than the previous one, largely due to us setting an intentionally slower pace. Glyn and I discussed this before Steve arrived; both of us feeling we could afford to sit back on our conversation, rather than racing ahead, as is our habit. We'd both listened to the last episode when it went out - and while we liked it, we were aware of the cross-talk that went on, particularly from the moment Steve joined us, when suddenly there were three people vying for space. Funnily enough, this was something our friend - and regularly IYIE listener - Glen Davies mentioned when we bumped into him immediately before recording. "I love how you all talk at once," he said. He meant it as a positive, but it's still not what we want.  It was nice in a way t...

The man listening to Phil Collins on the bus today should invest in better headphones. I’m not referring to their durability, as they looked like they were built to last. I’m talking about their insufficient soundproofing. If I can identify the artist I'm hearing from the other side of the aisle of a noisy bus then there’s something amiss; particularly when it’s the balding ex-drummer of Genesis. The track in question was Collins’ cover of A Groovy Kind of Love, so I suppose it could have been worse. It was like being subjected to the middle-aged equivalent of a teenager listening to music on public transport using their phone as a loudspeaker. In complaining now, I sound like an old man myself; it’s the circle of life (which was Elton John and not Phil Collins, who did the soundtrack for Tarzan). A Groovy Kind of Love brings back memories for me. It was one of the songs I sang to get into drama school. Years later, like everyone else ...

It's with a small sense of pride that I note that Phil Collins, Adolf Hitler and a beardless Noel Edmonds are currently among my top thirteen results on Google Images. Now that, my friends, is what I’m talking about . It eclipses the time the most popular Google search about me was ‘David Ephgrave gay’ by far. I can rest, safe in the knowledge that my online presence rubs shoulders with the Trio of Evil that is the shout-singing gated-snare-loving drummer from the film Buster, the most reviled figure in recent history – and Adolf Hitler. To be fair, this situation is indirectly of my own making. The photos of Collins and Edmonds have featured on my blog, and the Führer photo (actually Bruno Ganz in Downfall) is a result of a Twitter comparison to Tim Wonnacott on Strictly Come Dancing. I may have brought my internet bedfellows upon myself, but I'm going to revel in them. Who cares if I'm never employable again?

Today’s weather is Phil Collins’ fault. Twenty-five years since he put in his meteorological request, it's finally come to fruition. I just wish he’d kept his mouth shut. For the past four decades at least. Phil's got a lot to answer for. Not just for today’s downpour, but for all that gated reverb he used in the 80s. Each drum strike shouldn’t have identical dynamics, whatever Phil, Peter Gabriel and Hugh Padgham might want us to think. Phil was always an innovator, though. Take his album covers. The near-360 ° documentation of his head predates Google Earth by twenty years. You won't get lost on Phil's scalp, believe me. Collins wasn't the only one responsible for today’s rainfall. Eric Clapton also played a part. Aging rock stars should stick to what they’re best at. Precipitation should be caused by the rising and cooling of water vapour and nothing else.