A quiet Tuesday night with zero expectations looming over it; dinner and a catch up with a friend, maybe a few more drinks to follow. When you live in Manchester, it’s this kind of night that has all the potential to become something much more than it set out to be.
(I promise you now, this has everything to do with Naked Six. Bear with me. )
Everything was starting to sound ‘same old same old’ to me and I couldn’t put my finger on why – anyone who knows me well, will tell you that the only things that get me up in the morning are music, finding the next exciting gig to head to, and the thought of the Gavin and Stacey Christmas Special getting a little closer every day. It seemed odd that for a little while, I felt like I’d fallen out of love with some of my favourite bands and songs, or at least had no desire to listen to anything, either old or new. My drum kit had also been left to gather dust; the Vic Firth logo on the sticks in the exact same position I’d left them about a week earlier, and the little kink in the rug next to my kick pedal, after a heavy fight with a Queens of the Stone Age classic, still kinked. I was due to be at another gig that Tuesday evening – a bit of heavy, rocky, local goodness that would usually have been my ideal night, but just not today. I was starting to worry I’d fallen out of love with the thing that usually keeps me going.
(No really – this is about Naked Six. Stay with me.)
Dinner with one of my best friends was a fun one, wine flowed too easily and we made friends with the family unfortunate enough to be sitting next to us at Mackie Mayor. We thought we’d move on, and on passing the Rose and Monkey Continue reading “Naked Six + Other Stories”
