Muzz

Just to throw something else out there, and as detailed elsewhere on here, last year I picked up a Squier Sonic P new for £145 on the basis of 'How bad could it actually be?' (oh, and the fact it's very, very light (well under 8lbs)...yeah, I'm a glass-backed owd codger masquerading as a rock star) and it's a very good bass. Some tweaks to make it align more with my requirements (including a DiMarzio pup and one of Fender's own (much better) £35 bridges), and it's my main gigging bass. Now I know at the very bottom end of the model range I may have lucked out with a particularly good one (QC-wise), but it really is a good bass, and a great platform if you, like me, are an inveterate tinkerer, and are old enough not to get hung up on what it says on the headstock...

Thing is, you can get a custom made bass built for you by a luthier that IS objectively better for half that £4k, which these days is in the territory of a lot of higher-end US mass-manufactured stuff...

Jacob Alon at the Deaf Institute in Manchester. Good gravy, that boy can sing. Had very much the same almost magical vibes of 'this kid's the real deal' as when we accidentally caught a young bloke with an acoustic for about £10 in Hebden Bridge years ago (the wonderful Trades Club, about 50 people in), and driving home I said to my other half (who'd booked it on a whim) 'He'll go far, that lad; what was his name again?' She looked at the ticket 'George something...here it is: George Ezra'. The Deaf was sold out, but you could have heard a pin drop in the quieter moments (plus I didn't need my attenuators at any point, which was great) - it's a fantastic venue, and suited him down to the ground. It was £12 with two supports, I don't think that'll happen again...

Fourth gig of January so far Satdy night, pretty busy pub (thank Buddha that virtue-signalling nonsense Dry January has faded away; all it does is shut pubs), the punters enjoyed it and danced in between the tables, and I got to watch the American Football on a big screen right in my eyeline over the bar (we really must change the setlist up a bit; I play it 90% on muscle memory these days). No nutters, for a nice change...sorry... On the point earlier, we've put the money up to £300 for 2 x 45s for a trio, no-one's complaining and the diary's filling up... As always, cheapo lightweight P, Stomp, inears. Still unidentified trainers (I'll look at them properly for next time, promise..)

That whole 'we're on the same level, I'm free to walk into the band space' thing has been made worse these days with inears replacing floor monitors which, although a pain to schlep, at least reinforced the edge of the 'stage' - a couple of mike stands and a pedal board don't really delineate much to the pisht and terminally entitled...it's like the last ten minutes of Zulu some evenings...

OK, a catchup from before Xmas; a mix of the good, the bad and the indifferent...lots to cover, but I'll keep it brief(ish)... First off the Bad; a Black/Mad Friday gig before Xmas at the Weasel Dust Palace up in Burnley; packed out when we walked in at eight (he really didn't need a band on), we play on the dance floor, so early drunks had to be forcibly removed (some several times) so we could set up. We went on early (for this place) at 9, and from the off there were drunks falling all over. We asked for some security, nothing happened until a pair of 20+ stone blokes hugging each other fell into the band area (I stepped back so they didn't hit me) and just lay there like stunned elephant seals until they were hauled up by their mates. Broken rotating spotlight (£350), broken mic stand (mine), broken iPad screen and stand (singers), they just stumbled off. Then a 60-ish pisht woman (I'd been keeping an eye on her swaying dancing) just fell backwards and deposited her drink through the air about three inches from my Stomp; again, she just stumbled off. Mic stands getting knocked into singers teeth, people stepping int the band area to walk onto the stage to demand songs (one woman three times for the same song; in the end I just physically barred her way; she still tried to push past me), the whole nine yards. We stopped till they brought a bouncer to stand by the stage. Then the AC unit about three feet to the side of the band (not my side) started pishing water, again the staff did nothing till we stopped, then some half-hearted mopping commenced. At the end I saw the guitarist's pedal board (and the case on which the mixer stood) was in a puddle about an inch deep. Half the drum carpet was soaked, if I'd seen it I'd have pulled the gig, but the guitarist likes the place and didn't. I've told him I'm not playing there again, it's always awful. Better gig on the 27th, but that's no fun to report, it was all just OK (tho we got overpaid because the landlord liked what he heard), and no NYE gig (because the guitarist wanted to go out on the lash). First time in 16 years I've been at home for NYE, my other half was working but the Boy was back from Uni so we hung out and had a good night in. Since then another three gigs and one to come this weekend, only high/lowlight of which was playing the night the snow came down (4th?) up in the wilds Chorley way. Quietish pub, we played the first 45, and then in the break I noticed the snow getting serious outside, and given I had 30-odd miles to drive home back into the hills, we went back on quickly and played the second 45 and then just the one encore. I apologised to the landlady, she was happy and understood. As we were packing down, I saw a bloke talking to the singer. I'd clocked this bloke in the second set standing off to one side of the dancers, standing there with his arms folded. We've all had one of them at least once; they're always on their own, they're never well dressed, and they just stare without clapping. Anyway, I was over that side, and I overheard 'You lot are stealing a living; that wasn't 45 minutes.' Now I might have mentioned before, but the older I get the less patience I have with drunks or opinionated arses, so I stepped in and said 'Are you paying us, you personally? No? You got 30 miles to drive home in this? No? We've played 50 minutes, so you can...' Yeah, to prevent pinging the sweary filter I'm sure you can fill the rest in yourself. It takes a very sad mindset to think you can personally give a band the TripAdvisor critique to their faces and imagine you're not gonna get some pushback. Next time I looked up from packing he'd left. Anyhoo, another one at the weekend, and possibly another the last weekend in the month, so a 5-gig January will do me...I think we've a weekend off in Feb, but the calendar's very busy (apparently we're booked 28 weekends so far this year), so I'll put up with the idiots a while longer...

I guess it should really be a compulsory header form for 'Which amp/cab?' threads: Age: Back Condition: Dead Lift Limit (lbs/kg): General Enthusiasm For Hoicking Gear (1-10):

What are these 'rehearsals' you speak of? Not had one of those in a few years...pretty much after a project band who looooved to rehearse (and we sounded very good in rehearsals), but when it came to live gigs...not so much in either quantity or quality... Having said that, I've got one on Wednesday for a new band lineup, I'm not expecting too many more before we get out gigging.

Even though I don't use backline any more, my rule of thumb was always 'If the kick's going into the PA, so am I'. For unamplified drums, a 500w Class D head and a decent 212 (or less watts into a more efficient cab: my 300w Walkabout into either my BF 212 or 115 (or both) will decimate any drummer) will do it.

Just to clarify/re-emphasise, the Looks issue is entirely a Me thing and contains no shade at all; I have no doubt I'm missing out on some sublime instruments in terms of build and finish, it's just that I know what I like these days, and what I can live with - I can look at a bass' pickups and positioning and say 'That won't suit me at all'. Hell, I don't even like Jazzes...I'm just a weirdo.

I am on record on here as being (self-confessed) as shallow as a puddle when it comes to looks: for example, I don't care how good Foderas are, I'll never own one, because I can't stand the looks...

On regular (often lairy) pub gigs I play a Squier Sonic P (£145, plus a rummage through my Parts Box for bridge, tuners and pickup, even though it didn't really need it, it was more my irrisistible urge to tinker) so I don't worry about drunks (and worse) around my Shukers. It's not the same as the Shukers, but I'd put it up against any P under £750 these days, and it's super-light. I gig a lot, and I have lovely works of art in wood which will get used appropriately (posh Xmas hotel gig last night I took 2 Shukers) and cheaper ones. They all earn their money and justify their existence. If they don't, they get moved on. Funnily enough, I sound like me with all of them... If I had the spare money I'd get another (Superleggera) Shuker custom-made, but I don't (and I don't want to sell any of the ones I have to fund it), so that's that. The only potential purchase basses I look at these days are lighter ones (the Cheapo P is 7 3/4lbs) because my left shoulder isn't getting any younger.

Very posh Do* last night at the Radisson Hotel (ex-Free Trade Hall) in Manchester last night; a national solicitor's company, so I had a bath before I went, and dressed tastefully (for once)...didn't get time for a soundcheck, and no time to set up monitoring, so all I heard was floofy sub-bass, but played most of it on muscle memory, and of course no-one else noticed. It sounded good out front, though, and that's what matters, and the punters danced all night. Done for midnightish, home after dropping the drummer off (he's a fantastic pro (reading) drummer, a talented producer and music-tech guru (his day job is teaching Logic), but he doesn't have a car, so swings and roundabouts...) about 01:45. The alarm for work this morning was a bit gritty, but the money was four times a pub, so... Off now till the 20th, when I'll be up at Weasel Dust Central in Burnley, fending off the chemically-altered denizens of the place and stopping them turning the tops round on their stands (the new Funniest Thing In Burnley). Oh, the rich tapestry of experience... * BL went to the bar, no draught, so he got two 330ml bottles of lager. £12.40. In Manchester, for Buddha's sake...we both photographed them, in a vain effort to get more out of his £12.40...didn't help...

A late one for last weekend, a decent night at a place we like playing; it's a fair trek, being up in Barrowford North of Burnley, but always worth it for the lively crowd; it's one of those 'last place open in town' pubs, which is middling till about 10:45, then someone flicks the Crowd switch, and instantly the place is rammed. Played it as a trio, which meant more room onstage and more money - I mean, seriously, what's not to like? The drummers situation is settling down now, it's a choice of #1 or #2, and I love playing with either of them, so all good. Only fly in the ointment is that was apparently our last gig there, down to some hoohah between the agent, the landlord and the BL - he didn't go into detail (he controls all the gig arrangments (his choice)), so I just shrugged and loaded up. I did have an interesting conversation afterwards with a girl in her 20s who'd liked the band, and introduced herself as 'Brooke Nutter'. Given where we were (in the deeps of Pendle) I asked the inevitable question about Alice, and she said yeah, she was related on her Mum's side. Good job she liked the band; it's hard to load the gear out if you've been turned into a newt... Lightweight Cheapo P, Stomp, inears and, erm, trainers*. * I'm not very shoe-focused; they might be Asics or something? I've had them years. Sorry.

I had an old Cortina Estate (yeah, that dates this one) which was on its last legs: the next MOT was never an achievable dream, so, with it being well insured, I took to leaving it unlocked (with old Fords this was pretty much the same as locking it) when I was in Manchester city centre clubbing in the hope someone would nick it and I'd make money on the insurance. The best thing about it was the gear knob, which was made from a pool ball. I came back to it one night and the door was open...you can guess what was gone. I was gutted.