Recursive
So here's me, blogging on the interweb, about being on the telly, as part of a special about interwebbing.
Was woken by text from Emsk, saying that she had just seen a few seconds of it. Mutter mutter, I'm not going to get bothered about a few seconds... no, no, that was just a promo, the real thing is excellent, she messages back.
So I shower and dress and go next door and wake up C, my neighbour. (C and her husband J are also musicians, I have been producing a demo for them, so they can start gigging and get a MySpace set up themselves.) She makes tea and we sit on the couch and giggle. Ten minutes wait, and then, sooner than expected, there's AMPy walking down Brick Lane ON THE TELLY and we're on.
It's weird watching your own band on the telly. Because, obviously, when you're in a band, you never ever get to see what you actually *look* like when you're performing. Mostly, I skulk round the back, trying not to be seen and concentrating very hard on my guitar and pedals. But when the guitar solo starts, BLIMEY!!! there I am, with the camera in my area, looking like a total rock monster. With extra chins.
It seemed to go on forever, and then it was over. It seemed like a lot more than a minute and a half.
Being on the telly, does your life change? Well, not really. No one recognised me on the train. But everyone at work had seen it, and everyone on the interweb had seen it (especially as it was YouTubed in about two hours) and it really made me feel like somehow we'd accomplished something. Like I've been doing this little thing for 20 years, and now, just for a moment, the world took note. And crashed our MySpace account with their 5.1 million viewers or whatever.
Was woken by text from Emsk, saying that she had just seen a few seconds of it. Mutter mutter, I'm not going to get bothered about a few seconds... no, no, that was just a promo, the real thing is excellent, she messages back.
So I shower and dress and go next door and wake up C, my neighbour. (C and her husband J are also musicians, I have been producing a demo for them, so they can start gigging and get a MySpace set up themselves.) She makes tea and we sit on the couch and giggle. Ten minutes wait, and then, sooner than expected, there's AMPy walking down Brick Lane ON THE TELLY and we're on.
It's weird watching your own band on the telly. Because, obviously, when you're in a band, you never ever get to see what you actually *look* like when you're performing. Mostly, I skulk round the back, trying not to be seen and concentrating very hard on my guitar and pedals. But when the guitar solo starts, BLIMEY!!! there I am, with the camera in my area, looking like a total rock monster. With extra chins.
It seemed to go on forever, and then it was over. It seemed like a lot more than a minute and a half.
Being on the telly, does your life change? Well, not really. No one recognised me on the train. But everyone at work had seen it, and everyone on the interweb had seen it (especially as it was YouTubed in about two hours) and it really made me feel like somehow we'd accomplished something. Like I've been doing this little thing for 20 years, and now, just for a moment, the world took note. And crashed our MySpace account with their 5.1 million viewers or whatever.
posted by Masonic Boom | 1:49 pm
1 Comments:
That's just flat out awesome.
Post a Comment
<< Home