Well that was a busy Morgellons Saturday and no mistake!
First we travelled to the beautiful county of Northamptonshire and the Tannerfest, where we met some lovely people, heard some great new music and played to a warm and enthusiastic crowd. Thanks to all involved, particularly to Justin for inviting us, and to the PA folk who really knew what they were doing and gave us a brilliant sound. In these days of corporate sponsorship, “glamping” and other assorted nonsense associated with the festival scene, it’s lovely to get back to what it should all be about: great music, an inclusive, welcoming vibe and the chance to enjoy some of the finest countryside our sweet island home has to offer. And as if all that wasn’t enough, every penny raised at Tannerfest goes to charity. Forget Beardie Branson’s Benevolent Dictatorship V farce, and leave Uncle Eavis to his swarms of weekend earth warriors and wannabe wood-nymphs cavorting the the cow dung; if you want to find the true festival spirit, it’s here. So if you’re a band put your name forward for next year, and if you’re a punter go and support it. It’s that simple.
Then we hit the road in the Morgs-mobile, heading back to the smoke and the welcoming environs of dear old New Cross for more fun-filled, fund-raising shenanigans at the New Cross Inn, where we were honoured to be part of a fantastic all-day event raising money for Mat Sargent’s Sex, Drugs and HIV charity. There were so many great people involved, including the management at the New Cross Inn who gave us the venue for free, all the bands and performers who offered their time and effort so willingly, and all the people who showed up, paid on the door, bought raffle tickets and helped to raise nearly two thousand pounds for HIV/AIDS awareness. Special mention in despatches to the seemingly indefatigable John Youens, whose idea it was in the first place, and to Fleagle and all the members of the South London Punk Collective who worked so hard to make it such a memorable and worthwhile day. And of course, much thanks to our stage manager extraordinaire, the one and only Comrade X, who kept things ticking over with military precision while somehow still displaying the patience of a saint. Bravo, Comrade!
It’s moments like these that make being in a band the best thing ever. My week ahead flies by on the memories of past weekends and the anticipation of those to come. And as I sit here typing this, knowing that I should be vaguely threatening my gaff with the vacuum cleaner and sorting out some laundry, I consider myself very lucky to have this band as an outlet. I’ve met so many brilliant people, made new friends and re-established contact with old ones, played all over the country and shared so many great times – and one or two dodgy ones. And at the heart of it all, there’s a little voice that says to me “Fuck it, never grow up”. That’s advice I can happily take.