mostly david ephgrave

Yesterday, controversially, was the first day in nineteen months with a Mostly Comedy at the end of it, which is the longest gap between gigs in our nearly thirteen-year history. Sharing a showbiz stance with Phil Cornwell. It's fair to say we had no idea how long we'd be closed when we cancelled our show planned for March 2020. If anything, we felt we might be being over-cautious. But little did we know what lay ahead. And while that still applies today, to an extent, it was at least good to take baby steps towards pre-pandemic normality. Now, we just need public interest and confidence to build to the point that we start to pull in enough punters to make a profit while being as Covid-secure as possible. For the most part, the show was like putting on a pair of comfy shoes once we got past a couple of tech issues which meant we opened late. While we only started approximately fifteen minutes after our advertised kickoff, the mad dash to the end of our soundcheck left me feelin...

I was sad to stumble across the news on Twitter that Lynn Ruth Miller - who up to then was the world's oldest working stand-up - passed away last week. Interviewing Lynn Ruth Miller for More Than Mostly Comedy (13.12.20) I'd only been talking to her via email in July when we rescheduled Mostly Comedy's reopening to September and moved her next appearance at the club to next month as a result. But sadly, that lineup wasn't to be. She was More Than Mostly Comedy's penultimate guest  back in December, and what an eye-opening it was. It's no wonder she made the Telegraph's obituary section at the weekend as she practically squeezed four lifetimes into one. And she was a picture of resilience, having picked herself up more times than a pin in a bowling alley. It sounds like a stock phrase, but she was truly inspirational, and the comedy world is markedly emptier and less colourful in her absence. Not to mention younger. It's not often you share a bill with so...

Today, I took the opportunity for a rare tour of Abbey Road Studios as a belated 40th birthday treat. And while I anticipated it would be emotional standing in the rooms where so much magic was committed to tape, I still wasn't quite prepared for the visceral impact. Not the first long-haired yob to enter the building. It's not just its connection to the Beatles that makes it such an extraordinary place. No other building on the planet has produced so much music that's woven into our collective consciousness. It's the invisible location of countless performances we know so well that often touch us deep in our soul, and the zebra crossing outside makes it easy to arrive on foot. Though whether you choose to wear shoes is up to you. My arrival. I first visited that pedestrian landmark in 1996ish as a teenager with my guitarist friend, Rich. I'd been desperate to go there for years and would drop hints about it whenever I was in London for something touristy. I've ...

I married my wife seven years ago today. Well, that's not strictly true as she wasn't my wife when I married her. Though as soon as we got married, she was. There were split seconds between being single and betrothed, but those tiny increments would be vital when say, opening a joint bank account or taking out a mortgage. And you've got to get that shit right. Being married has only brought good. It strengthened our relationship while reassuring me that there's someone on my side when I lose faith. It's no coincidence that I often play with my wedding ring when I'm nervous or anxious. It's a physical aide-memoire of our partnership, which started sixteen years ago and has only grown with time. In many ways, that's my proudest achievement and the best thing in my life (though my automatic cigarette-rolling machine comes in at second place; that thing's witchcraft, I tell you). And how could we not be the perfect team when our conjoined surnames make t...

I'm feeling tense about the Government's proposed lifting of all COVID-19 restrictions in ten days. While I accept how difficult it is to find the sweet spot between balancing case numbers, the percentage of people already vaccinated, seasonal advantage and the economy, to choose now seems tenuous, particularly when not everyone's had their second dose. And to remove mandatory mask-wearing at the same time is just reckless. Surely keeping them a little longer is the perfect bridge between total lockdown and normality? People who take issue with wearing masks except for the medically exempt should grow up, frankly. I mean, seriously, what's the problem? It's an act of kindness to anyone with a compromised immune system. Imagine taking a packed bus ride to a chemotherapy appointment in fear of the highly transmissible delta variant. Wouldn't you feel safer if nearly everyone around you wore a mask? Catching the virus is still a matter of life or death. Should avo...

It's common sense really, but today I felt the value of starting the day positively. I took the dog out first thing - well, what classes as first thing for me - which I do most weekdays and, despite the rain, we both enjoyed it. The only downside to dog-walking is I often find myself thinking about difficult conversations from the past that still niggle. It's the mental equivalent to coming up with the perfect witty retort days later when the moment's passed. I try to catch my rumination when I notice it and actively change the subject as I know it's unhelpful. I'm getting better at this, though it's an inexact science. While it's good to take the dog out, deciding to play the drums as soon as I got home was the real win. Changes in my routine since lockdown has seen me slow down a bit and put on weight I'd like to shift, but it's always difficult to find the right exercise to suit my back problems and - let's be honest - lethargy. Old Me spent m...

For a long time, I've had a complex about giving presents. I often leave gift shopping until the absolute last minute, not because I'm lazy but for fear that I'll choose something that isn't good enough and cause offence. I get extremely anxious about it and second-guess my judgment. I can trace this paranoia to two events. One Mother's Day when I was twelve or thirteen, I decided to write a song for my mum and record it on my four-track recorder so she could have a nice version to keep. I spent a few days methodically preparing a demo, recording guitar parts and then overdubbing vocals and percussion. It wasn't my finest work, but I took the time to get it right. I can still remember the moment I played it to her. We were in my bedroom when I gave her a card and the tape. As she ripped open the package to reveal the cassette, I felt tense. I put it into my Hi-Fi and we listened in silence. Suddenly, the whole idea felt wrong. She looked irritable. And her respo...