mostly david ephgrave

One of my favourite lesser-known Buddy Holly songs that wasn’t officially released in his lifetime is the short and sweet, Beatles-DNA-infused ‘You’re The One’. While I was pretty well-versed in Holly’s back catalogue before I played him in Buddy Holly and The Cricketers, this particular song had escaped my notice until it was put forward to enter our set for a short tour of Northern Ireland in 2007. Like a lot of the demos he recorded and didn't put out, it eventually surfaced in the early Sixties, daubed with some (in this instance clumsy) overdubs by his old producer Norman Petty to create the impression of a full band recording. While we used this as reference for our arrangement in the show, it’s the unadorned demo that has real charm. It wasn’t until today that I discovered it was written in half an hour in response to a bet set by a radio DJ, who didn’t think Buddy could compose a song that quickly. The fact he came up with this (and then performed it on t...

Today, I inadvertently discovered Google Images thinks a photo of me and the 2005 cast of Buddy Holly and the Cricketers is the sleeve for the classic album Who’s Next. We intentionally struck the pose to look like a record cover, to be fair, though if anything, we were aiming for something a little more indie than rock. We certainly weren’t taking a piss on a big concrete block like Daltrey, Townsend, Entwistle and Moon did in 1971, but we wouldn’t have done that, as we had standards; I've got a shy bladder anyway, so would have felt far too pressured whether we were being photographed or not. When it comes to hoodwinking recognition-based technology, I have a history. I once convinced the printing company Photobox that I was a middle-aged woman , and made Shazam think I was ELO , so I clearly can’t be trusted. I’m a better master of disguise than Ted Danson at the end Three Men and a Little Lady, so you’d better not try to marry anyone Tom Selleck fancies or...

Today I stumbled across a picture my wife took through the window of a caravan that acted as the backstage area for a gig in what essentially amounted to falconry display venue in Liskeard back in 2009. Glyn didn't get the memo. It was a memorable gig as the audience were up on their feet and dancing throughout (probably because they were surprised we didn’t all have Kestrels and Tawny Owls balanced on our outstretched arms); the set certainly made it feel like a bird display. The sound wasn’t great for that one, as we had someone different to usual behind the desk, so it was a little ropy, but the audience loved it. As ever, they didn’t really seem to mind or notice. I quite like doing outdoor gisg for the novelty value, but there was a red alert when I noticed’ all the signs where just a step away from saying “Puppet Show and Spinal tap; be that as it may, I still had a great time, primarily because my wife came down to join me and we s...

Frustratingly, I appear to be losing my voice. This is down to a rapidly advancing cold, which can’t be helped, but the timing isn’t good. I was supposed to be going to a family member’s hospital appointment tomorrow, but have cancelled this, as I didn’t want to give anyone my lurgy, plus we’re meant to be recording the next episode of In Your Inner Ear in the evening. I then have gigs on Thursday and Friday for which being able to speak would be a bonus, as I’m not a physical comedian. Commedia dell'arte was never my forte. (Historical theatre reference.) This afternoon and evening I met with two friends, both of whom I was concerned I might pass on my disease to. Hopefully, I managed to keep sufficiently clear to avoid contamination. I met the second of the two at a pub that was noisy enough to bang the final nail into the coffin of my voice-box – and while I didn’t drink (save a medicinal glass of mulled wine), the environment still ...

I was flicking through some pictures on my external hard drive yesterday (nothing shifty) when I stumbled across a few that I thought might be of interest here. I’ll share them across different blogs as they pertain to different things. The first lot were taken during my first tour with Buddy Holly and The Cricketers, back in 2005. The shot above was taken on a beach in Ireland. We were purposely apeing an indie album cover, though let’s face it, my stripey zip-up top and Britpop hairstyle wouldn’t look out of place on a member of the band Cast, intentional irony or not. To my right stands drummer Graeme Chart, sax & keys player Neil Nicholas and rhythm guitarist Adam Stone, with whom I shared a room throughout the tour. It’s hard to belive that my first stint in the big specs was ten years ago, until I notice how young a look in the pictures, that is. I did the show on and off for seven or eight years. The first tour ran from September to December 2015, doing...

Low-ranking performers like me don’t expect to look into an audience mid-show to see a banner like this. Whatever level you may be on the theatrical spectrum, you pray you'll never see this. What made it worse was they did . Chilling stuff. In September 2005, I took to the road for my first tour with the actor / musician show Buddy Holly and the Cricketers. It was a grueling affair: four months of one-nighters booked up and down the UK and Ireland with scant regard for geography, doing five or six shows a week. I was playing Buddy, which was exciting yet daunting, not least because I had to keep myself in vocal shape while spending most of my waking hours in the back of a van; not to mention all those lonely hours in the dead of the night, trying to get to sleep in another dodgy B&B. The last two shows were at The Brewhouse in Taunton on the 22 nd and 23 rd of December. This was a blessing and a curse: it was nice to end the run spending a coupl...

What better way is there to celebrate the career of America’s foremost Western actor than painting his picture on a plate? I spotted John on display in the window of my local Garden House Hospice. The staff obviously felt he had the requisite appeal to entice people in. I’m amazed the original owner wanted to part with it. They must have gone to the kitchen cupboard in the sky. Commemorative plates are a confusing concept. When are ever they a fitting tribute? I’m a fan of many prominent figures, from Paul McCartney to Tony Hancock, yet I’ve never felt the need to eat my dinner off their face. Perhaps I’m missing the point. Think of the mealtime guessing games you could play. It’d be like the Catchphrase bonus round, with food in place of shapes . (Insert a Mr Chips gag here.) My foremost commemorative plate memory – and let’s face it, I have many - concerns my first tour with the tribute show, Buddy Holly and the Cricketers. ...