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July 12, 2008

Its been an adventure

Filed under: editorial, mr solo — mrsolo @ 8:20 am

“we won’t know where we’re going until we get there….” and so sang a vaudevillian character in the film Overlord, a film I saw the night after I effectively killed off the solo version of Mr Solo at a venue in Camden called the Undersolo. A good place to bury that particular incarnation of the solo franchise. Will, I ask myself, Light Speed Champion find a suitable venue to bury the hat (yet)? I had meant to write stuff here more often but things have become frenetic and I have found myself swapping hats at a more frequent rate than the afore mentioned festival main stay. In one particular week I seemed to perform everynight in a different guise ; singer in a david devant tribute band, humble show stealing broken ankled guitarist in keith TOTP’s minor indie celebrity all star band, guitarist and erstwhile side kick to Mr Argos in the last orthodox Glam band on earth (although we are more a cooperative than a group), co lead singer with Ed in the Green, Singer in David devant and his Spirit wife and then rounding the week off with a performance in a gallery as mister Solo the clinically sane painter of men with monkey faces in floating boxes surrounded by celestial fire www.sartorialart.com. Its a list and not a story but some how I had intended it to appear more riveting written down than having to stoically take in the miriad oddities of some on else’s dream. I read somewhere that there is snothing more boring than listening to someone else’s dream - unless you are a paid freudian analyst in which case you will pass the time looking at the clock nodding going “ah ha I see” and stroking your chin. i believe in the power of dreams but I Am an accidental anarchist so refuse every dogma known to man. This preamble is growing into a mountain trek so time to tell you how my blogging leviathan was roused from slumber by the events of yesterday. Glam Chops (the last orthodox glam collective in the solar system) were booked to hit the sheep dip stage of Lounge on the Farm at 7 pm last night. Being the anarchist that I am I duely arrived as advised by the appropriate authorities at 5 pm (the specified 2 hours in advance). Fearing I was behind the pack (school cross country trauma incident) I was swift to telephone the lead singer ed Argos who clearly described his location as near Heathrow. Oh gosh I thought. Come seven twenty I was advising our democratically elected accidental leader, Paul GUided Missile, that we should dig in and wait for Ed at least until they tell us in no uncertain terms to go on. So … I annouce us as two thirds of glam chops and we begin the set with a song I sing about my personal struggle to coralate the optimism of Glam from my childhood with a certain hunted man (ne gad). This is not quite what the festival goers had expected from the last orthodox glam cooperative in the universe… but come the final layered series of rounds combining various glitter band choruses a feeling that the uncomplicated euphoria of child like creative reverie can once agian be restored has descended on atleast two members of the crowd assembled to see the last orthodox glam union in England. Or perhaps they just liked the chance to sing ‘dya wnna be in my gang my gang’ in a safe unreconstructed environment. That song done we now have to play a number ed would normally co-sing but I feel pretty confident taking the lead. People often say to me how extrovert I am on stage but they are mistaking a big wig for showing out - I’m just trying to remember al the chords. To do justice to what happened next I would really have to contact the artist who rendered “tough of the track” in Scorcher comic and ask them to show it in a series of sublimely inked panels. As we approach the second chorus Ed bounds onto the stage and nearly takes out Paul guided missile. It is with explosive elation that we become a fully restored co-op as we flank the front of the stage, arms aloft, for the drum break down “don’t be glum - be glam - be glam - i am”. This moment , as i said to Paul afterwards was an all time classic - its the last panel in the comic strip which was proceeded by intercut pen and ink images of ed hanging out of a movin splitter bus with security stewards diving out the way shaking fists from the hedgerow intercut with close ups of my sweating brow with sideways glances. And then ed bounds on to the stage. During the next song “european festivals” make up is applied to his face! i’ve done a few shows in my time but never one that combines comic book adventure with orthodox glam rock!
people stared at the make up on his face…. I unwittingly killed off the solo mr solo on the eve of the 35 anniversary of the death of Ziggy Star dust. The serendipity of this would be harder to explain in a comic strip. celebrating life’s introverted moments and bringing them out into the open is why I am clinically sane but not content with one persona or hat. did i ever mention how i was once paid with a hat shaped from felt into tatlin’s tower?

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