TandemTales

Geoff sleeps on his feet, after a heavy night of totting tandem around all day, playing one tasty but small venue and another bigger yet not so sexy gig. Electronic failure, near heart failure, Barry the Badger ranting in German, and Olivis (an Elvis impersonator) who wanted a fight. He was near 60 and smelt of piss – so after Geoff remonstrated with him he sulked away into the night.

Wednesday ( day 08) – Slow to get off the ground, they drink strong coffee and slouch around in a Scotch/Italian café, over-hearing tales from locals about coughs, cures and local news- or ‘the sniff’ as it’s known locally. Geoff can relate to this as he feels ‘the sniff’ rising from his bowels. They need uppers.

The weight of the tandem is starting to take its toll on Geoff. There is a lack of interest and enthusiasm to find and get more people on the back of the bike. Everybody here in tinsel town is doing their own thing, their own show, they have no time for spontaneity today. Geoff and Hal pedal/skulk from street to street looking for a busking spot.

We pass the click-click of cameras, as tourists surround circus performers, jugglers and tight- rope walkers. Funk and Soul bands, the duke’s duke of trombones and squeals of saxophones please this crowd- have they’ve been duped?

Where do these boys fit in here? They find a quiet corner to busk, but really it’s a rehearsal for tonight’s show. Hal decides to paint Geoff, whilst he learns the guitar finally. People gather in small groups to soon realise that Geoff cannot play the guitar and Hal’s painting nothing of interest (for the first time). But the sun and burgeoning fun grows like Hal’s hair- crazy and wild. It is lucky that Geoff also cuts hair.

An old Scottish fellow takes interest though and tells stories of lost band members, drunkard brawls and serenades whilst Geoff plays guitar. It fits. It works.

He talks about how he gets money when he dances like a fool for the tourist, ‘ dance monkey dance’, it’s what they want to see he says, not his meaningful poems or songs.

Barry hides in a phone box and jumps out on the unexpected crowd. Geoff now tows the Tandem to the C venues bar. They bring everything they got to the show, to realise no- one’s there to listen to music. It’s the wrong crowd. Ah!

Geoff fights through and leaves Hal to bring up the rear. The stage is a mess with litter, props and instruments all kicked over by a frustrated Barry whose set is cut short- before tasmanic song ‘Rolf Harris (whatever he’s on)’. Does anyone want to hear their songs and tales from the tandem?

Deflated they stroll into the heart of tinsel town, where philosophic Barry puts on an impromptu show, drunk passers-by look, laugh and don’t listen, click cameras and throw down nothing. One hour and three pounds later they meet Tom a rickshaw driver. Geoff captures him and swaps bikes- it’s another distraction from the over-riding question bothering them….

Who will appreciate this untrained/un-trainable act they wonder? Where could they go? Where are the French rappers when they need them? The Tandem attracts many curious souls and stories. The boys think about leaving town, to return with their dancing shoes, a booked show or at least some brass next time. However, Jamie from Forest Fringe cafe notices them and offers them a gig for the next day as he liked the underground set at the Roxy Art venue the previous night. He used the word ‘talented’- so they stayed, their mission wouldn’t end on a low like it was starting to appear…

They scoff another heavy and greasy meal, meet another lonesome busker, filling his belly with his day’s earnt shrapnel. For now the Royal Mile and its surrounding streets becomes their stage; no permit-licence, click-click of cameras, just road sweepers and lost drunks. It’s all about strong booze and songs that wail into the morning.

Still curious, lots of possibilities, lots of effort they freewheel down to bed. Tandem rests.
Tits await.

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