Hitting things is good

We have a drummer! Please give a warm Juggernaut – er, sorry – Sweet Nothings welcome to Mr Tim Boyd!

2010 has been a bit frustrating really. We lost a good drummer when Fairy lost his car and couldn’t travel to practice any more. We told him to look behind the fridge, but these youngsters, they never listen. Then Rob returned to fill in for a few months, commuting from Cleethorpes. This gave us some great moments, like the first time he came back, when we hadn’t played together in seven months and I texted him to ask if he wanted to come over for a practice the next morning and then travel down to Bristol to play a popshow on the night and record a radio session the day after, and he texted back simply: “I would fucking love it.”

But Rob’s work has moved him down to bloody Guildford now, which is a bit far to nip over at short notice. And the whole lack of a drummer in Sheffield thing has made it nigh on impossible for us to work on new songs this year.

That’s where Tim comes in. Tim was suggested by Vinnie, partly because he’s in her other band The Marygreenes, so she already knew what a good drummer he is. Partly, I suspect, it’s also because they both support Tottenham, so they can gang up on me and Dan for supporting teams that are less glamorous and relatively quite crap. (The Wednesday have had a half-decent start to the season, while the Mariners… have had a start to the season.)

At the time of writing we’ve practised three times with Tim. He plays fast and dead tight, and I am frankly amazed at how quickly he’s picked up the songs. We’ve one more rehearsal this Friday, and then it’s to Nottingham for the Indiepop Weekender. Eeeeeeeeeeeee!

Tim also hits the drums really, really hard. But please be gentle with him in Nottingham, because we’re all bound to be slightly nervous. And finally, if you get chatting, ask him to tell you one of his amazing stories about when he used to be a meter reader. I’d type some of them up here, but I just don’t have the kilowatt hours.

Published by Pete Green

Poet and musician. Sheffield. Maps, coastlines, walking, whisky, and potentially dangerous levels of wist. Grimbarian. Pedestrian. King of the impossible. Big girl's blouse.

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