Yeah, crikey, Billy here.
Things have been a little quiet in blog land, so thought it best to step into the void and let you know everything is fine and dandy at Teacaddy HQ.
Recently there was quite a flurry of activity (for us anyway), with a number of fun shows that included both the Nelson and Tauranga arts festivals. Good times, especially with the full band playing two shows in Nelson, one at the Neudorf Winery (their wine is delicious) and the other at the festival venue The Granary in the Founders Park, which is reviewed here. The reviewer starts off by mentioning not generally liking anything labelled as ‘indie-folk’, safe to say, we talked her around.
It’s a fair cop, having to give oneself a musical pigeon hole does run the risk of misinforming – what the hell is indie-folk anyway? Sure, it’s useful to have some categorization, but sometimes it’s far better to know what something isn’t. I mean, we’re NOT: rock, electronica, trad folk, opera, contemporary country and western, top 40 pop, classical/orchestral, new wave, old school or musical theatre. Not yet anyway. I’ve just read somewhere that a defining genre can be more an attitude than a distinct sound. Which is good, so we’ll stick with ‘indie-folk’ as I reckon’ the ‘indie’ part means we can be sort-of-all-over-the-place-and-a-bit-arty-but-not-really-cos-we-end-up-like sounding-like-try-hards-that-are-a-bit-geeky-really. And the ‘folk’ part is a nod to the fact we play acoustic guitars and sing songs and stuff. Like Joni Mitchell and David Crosby but without all the cocaine and free love and saving the world.
Comparisons are another useful form of categorization. In here we insert the fact that we are a male/female duo. Like Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush without the seminal pop electronica, the vocal histrionics and the one-shot eternally long hug video clip. Or like The Carpenters without the saccharine keep-it-in-the-family chart hits, the struggle with anorexia, and the teeth. Or Ike and Tina Turner without the black cool, sparkly costumes and violent physical abuse. (We keep it strictly verbal). Or like Gillian Welch and her sidekick David Rawlings without the understated musical genius and tasteful injections of traditional Americana, folk, bluegrass et al. Or like Johnny Cash and June Carter without the dripping coolness, swaggering southern drawls, kooky humour and classic country and western credentials. (Although we get close in the respect that we only know four chords and rely heavily on our bumbling banter and snappy attire). Or like Over The Rhine without the slick earnestness and stunning instrumentation.
What would you define us as? What would you call us? Comment below. (We may rip off your ideas, particularly if they are accurate, amusing or slanderous).
But anyway. The last few gigs were great. Pulled a couple of local shows with our buddies The Eastern (a Lyttelton based male/female duo plus occasional band, with far bigger balls than we have, playing a more ‘down-home’, rootsy/bluegrass footstomp-slash-balladeering type of sound, kind of like a mixture of a freight train and a daisy chain, with banjo and harmonica) and The Broken Heartbreakers (essentially a male/female ‘folk-pop’ duo plus occasional band with more melodic sense than we’ll ever have and the sort of vocal harmonies we would happily rip their arms off for).
Betty and I then made our way to Tauranga for a 5.00pm Saturday slot in the arts festival which went well and followed that up with some revelry, mutual ego massage with the Ukes, and an eight hour drive home peppered with the singing of made up songs of ‘unimaginable filth’ and additions to our world domination manifesto; to wit, Chapter 2: The Masses Shall Bow To Us Once Our Shit Is Together – A Faecal Generation and Containment Policy.
And the future looks relatively rosy. Duh.
Keen to put up some fresh pics soon from our latest exploits including a few by our adopted snapper Michael Edge-Perkins, he has a double barrelled name so don’t mess with him. You can dig around here to see some of his fine work. And here is an immediate example:
Billy and Betty. By Michael Edge-Perkins.
We’ve got some new songs on the go (ooooooh), a resurrection of an old song we’ve never played live (ahhhhhh), and plans in the pipeline for some writing time – hopefully in Betty’s new digs on The Farm (more news on that soon), I sense pastoral vibes, moonshine and interspecies lovemaking. No. Not really.
In the meantime we have a limited amount of this, a tea towel illustrated and designed by our good friend and graphics guru Paul Shakesby. You want one don’t you? Contact us if you wanna talk turkey – just in time for xmas:
That’s it for now. Hopefully that has filled the gap. Do drop us a line, leave a holler or generally give us hell. We’re always up for it.
Billy. x
Oh. And in writing this I discovered Alicia Keys and Bono doing ‘Don’t Give Up’. Which is highly unfortunate.
