As the other Beutons are not as fully dedicated to the musical cause as me (they prefer to call it employment!), I have slightly more time on my hands to pursue a range of musical activities in the hope of meeting the never ending stream of rent payments, bills and cosmetic enhancements which allow me to exist, and to be accepted normally in society.
It is with this in mind that my musical thoughts return to solo performing. I shall be doing lots of solo gigs across the county, using my Beutons notoriety to force my way into the small music clubs, pubs, cafes and even libraries that scatter the Cornish landscape like empty music boxes waiting for a dose of musical mirth. Please give my FB page a liking to find out when and where I'll be playing, and with whom.
I'm hoping this blog, if I can remember to keep updating it, will be a place I can write about music, making music, making money from music, making music from money and no doubt the odd bizarre tangent and rant along the way. Today's entry is supposed to be about busking in Perranporth and coming up with a strategy to avoid death by 'song fatigue'...
Song fatigue is the suffering caused by hearing the same song over and over again. It can make grown men weep and can make street sellers and shop owners reach out for their shotguns. It's the reason there are still bodyguards stationed around Whitney Houston's grave.
I busk in Perranporth, near the beach, during these trying times of Emit invasion, attempting to irk out a pint of beer here or a loaf of bread there by singing merrily into the pockets of stray or lost emits of an evening. It is a mostly enjoyable pursuit. You can see how happy I am about it in the picture (left).
My point, that I'd like to bring to the attention of Perranporth's local populace, is that I'm concerned that one of you may stab me ruthlessly about the eye sockets with a lolly stick if you have to stumble across the beach car park and down to the sands accompanied by the chirpy incessant sounds of 'King Of The Swingers' or 'Bear Necessities' flying remorselessly into their ears for the ten thousandth time this summer!
I busk in Perranporth, near the beach, during these trying times of Emit invasion, attempting to irk out a pint of beer here or a loaf of bread there by singing merrily into the pockets of stray or lost emits of an evening. It is a mostly enjoyable pursuit. You can see how happy I am about it in the picture (left).
My point, that I'd like to bring to the attention of Perranporth's local populace, is that I'm concerned that one of you may stab me ruthlessly about the eye sockets with a lolly stick if you have to stumble across the beach car park and down to the sands accompanied by the chirpy incessant sounds of 'King Of The Swingers' or 'Bear Necessities' flying remorselessly into their ears for the ten thousandth time this summer!
I would very much like to see my 34th birthday this October (means I'll have beaten Jesus at living!!), and not massively irritate every last one of you so I figured it might be prudent planning to invite you all to drop me a comment or message with a song choice that you would be happy (or happier) to hear me play as we awkwardly avoid eye contact as you pass to the beach.
So yes, please consider me your local beach bound jukebox, and whilst I'm extracting the loose change from our tourist visitors, please allow me to extend a free credit to each and every one of you smiling, decent, hard working, local people. Hopefully it's a solution so that I won't annoy everyone beyond repair come September, and I might feel less like a troll on a bridge in a children's story too.
Please throw your song suggestions at me here, there and everywhere. I shall endeavor to satisfy.
