We spent last weekend playing gigs in Devon and Cornwall and I’m feeling grateful for and filled up by the kindness and thoughtfulness of everyone involved.
Moving from place to place a lot, figuring out new situations and being on display can be unsettling, but being surrounded by people who you can comfortably share darkness and lightness with in equal measure makes it easier. We were behind schedule during our setup in Plymouth and time was running out. Dan the promoter made us a heartwarming stew in the background as I shakily told Ricky who we were playing with that I felt nervous. At first it surprised me when he said he really did too and I could see tears in his eyes. I’m sure we all feel things deeply, but sometimes external appearances give you another impression. Asking how people feel and l i s t e n i n g is so valuable. Ricky Romain plays gorgeous classical Indian sitar and needs the right environment. The starkness of the lights and the initially small but rowdy crowd was daunting. He began to play though and the room went quiet. All the breathing slowed down, including my own and everyone shushed each other respectfully. His is the perfect opening act.
One of the lads from a group we were all intimidated by when they first turned up, told me at the end, ‘the man with the beard, he touched my soul. I haven’t cried that much for so long’. I said, ‘that’s beautiful’ and he just said, ‘it hurts’. He was talking about Laurence of The Diamond Family Archive. I cried too when he unplugged his guitar and stepped out amongst the audience to play a song called, Big Black Dog. It was extremely raw and powerful.
When we let go of façades and cut through, when we make music from the heart, that is generous and that’s the thing that other people truly connect with. In Falmouth we were playing a set at the end of what’s usually the venue’s open mic. One of the people who got up, we met earlier in the evening. He was absolutely wasted, telling us about how he was going through a ‘smokey’ patch and how scared he was of sunflowers’ faces! We didn’t really have high hopes for his performance, especially after he returned from a trip down the hill on his skateboard designed to sober himself up, even more fucked, but when he started playing it was breathtaking. His guitar playing was sweetly intricate and his lyrics were honest. It made me think about where the music comes from. It’s not from thoughts. As soon as he hesitated for a second, he’d lose himself, start swearing and finish in the middle of a song, but when he let things flow from that natural place, without question, the results were incredible.
I tried to think of this while we played. Instead of shutting down after hitting a note weakly or slipping onto the wrong fret (like I used to because I thought, ‘if I can’t be perfect, what’s the point?’), I embraced it, smiled a knowing, human smile and turned that awareness and acceptance into something that could enhance the rest of the performance.
In Falmouth I also met Kirsty, who designs some of the lamps I sell in Radiance. She’d emailed me recently to ask about sales and in my reply I mentioned the upcoming gig. I knew she lived in Cornwall (but not which part) and that she had a very kind email manner but that was it. We finished playing and this delightful presence started walking towards me. “Are you Ffion, I’m Kirsty!”. She came! I made friends at first sight. We talked effortlessly while Johnny, Rog, Paul and Chris packed away (thank you) and the world felt very magical. I had no need to freak out after pressing send. It’s probably the case that none of us ever do.
Something else I was grateful for was being given places to stay and always a bed even if the boys had to sleep on the floor. Chris got out a blow up mattress and made sure we all had water before going to sleep. Matt and Ali made space for us after their house had flooded and made us late night toast and morning coffee. I’ve only sat on the cushioned bench around their kitchen table twice in my life but it feels like home. I could have held back from saying, ‘I love breakfast with friends!’ out loud, but I didn’t, and no one laughed, they just agreed. Gabe and Joey made us all vegan fry ups on Monday morning like it was nothing, and we tried the hand-labelled ‘apol & per’ juice that their girls had squeezed the day before.
Our first gig on the Friday was in Totnes, put on by The Blackbird Collective. Their attention to detail was amazing. Handmade tickets, a quiet bar-less room in the pub, fairy lights around the mic stands, great sound and communication and a lovely support band, Harbottle & Jonas. Ted Evans who was comparing told us all that recently whilst he was watching them, his sixteen year old son cuddled up to him for the first time in years.
The day after, we got together with Alex Marsh to record for his radio show, Vire Island Discs. It was his 200th show so he suggested we all went and chatted on the beach. It was so relaxed. Our band name was inspired by Sea Song, one of the tracks we chose for Alex to play, by Robert Wyatt. Johnny explained how ‘seasonal beast’ forms part of a reference to someone close to you going through emotional and mental shifts, but being there for them no matter what.
We talked about the fact that Alex’s show was somewhat unconventional and that he just does what feels right. And it did. Again, shedding preconceived ideas and resisting pressures of different shapes and sizes from all directions is the best way forward. You can listen to the show below:
Breathing in the sea air, looking at the sky as we drove along in the van, having time to walk around (slightly) more slowly than normal and connecting with people through music has reminded me of life’s beauty and all the ways to let it shine through.
