Seen Him Live

As I'd recorded some quite terrible versions of a few songs and shared them with the internet, I thought I was ready to perform in public.

There was to be a ukulele festival in York. It sounded quite exciting; it was the first one and I could be part of it. The website blurb said they welcomed performers of all abilities. This surely included those with none, I thought, and I fired off an email promising to play a few punk songs and "keep the swearing to a minimum" if they'd have me.

I received a reply and I was given a time to perform on the day. It was ages away, so I didn't need to worry.

Suddenly it was less than a fortnight to go and I didn't even have a setlist. I was still not worried and chose five songs that would fill the 15-minute slot I'd been given. I played each song once, badly, as a rehearsal and then went on holiday for a week, still not worried.

Then it was suddenly the night before and I decided I'd better practice a bit. Half a dozen runs through and I forgot lyrics and chords all over the shop, different ones each time too.

Now I was worried. Petrified. Absolutely bricking it.

The morning of my performance I got up early and practised like a madman. I was getting better, but time wasn't on my side.
The time of the festival was drawing closer and I left my flat, trying desperately to think of a valid excuse for not turning up.

And why oh why had I invited friends along to the event? To support me? I was going to look like a right twat.

I arrived in The Habit and the event was already underway. A man was just finishing murdering a Bob Dylan song and then two girls made sure an Amy Winehouse song would need at least mouth to mouth. I wasn't as bad as this lot. It was going to be ok.

I was still nervous though, so I decided I needed a little bit of what the Dutch call courage to relax myself.

Relaxed as a newt after six pints of courage and a young man who could play and sing quite well was performing. Singalongs, cheering, rapturous applause, the crowd loved him.

And I was on right after him. Great.

I sat and tuned up and was given a music stand on which to place all my notes. This was going to be a great help as I still couldn't remember the lyrics to anything and it meant I could avoid making eye contact with the audience by hiding behind it.

I knocked my own pint over right before starting and some generous soul replaced it.

It was time to begin.

That's Entertainment opened things and the crowd didn't seem to mind that it got faster and faster as it progressed. Several people sang along with the chorus and I had them on my side.

Good. Now I had the crowd eating out of my hand it was the perfect time to play an Alkaline Trio number that nobody knew. This almost ended in disaster as a group of drunken men entered and proceeded to talk loudly at the back of the room. I found this to be quite distracting and so stopped playing and told them to shut up. A ripple of nervous laughter swept the room before I resumed playing the song nobody had heard before.

“Do you like the Ramones?” I asked. A couple of cheers. “You won't in a minute,” I quipped. My banter was clearly better than my singing and that wasn't saying much.

I raced through The KKK Took My Baby Away and then straight on to showstopper, the 80s classic, 99 Red Balloons.

This went quite well and a few people helped me out with the singing. So it was a good choice on my point to unexpectedly (for the audience) sing the last two verses in terrible German.

And then it was over. Kind people clapped much more vigorously than was necessary and there were a few whistles, probably from people I knew.

I was bathed in sweat and a bundle of nerves, along with plenty of other cliches.

I discovered that the adrenaline of performing to be quite sobering and I set about celebrating my maiden performance with a bucketload of Guinness.

Stay tuned, uke hunters.

You can follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ukehunts

and Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ukehunts/