Hallo there,

Just a quick note - I don't know how to make a guestbook or anything like that, but there's one on the Assistant homepage, so if you'd like to leave a message you can do so by following the links below.

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Cheers,
jonathan x

On Wednesday 19th February 2003 Assistant became a figment of reality. It was one of the strangest and longest days in memory, actually, seeming to last forever as the day shifted agonising towards our set, and then to rocket by in a flash as though time was being stretched out like an elastic band and then pinged back fast into normality.

At around 11am I had a phone call from Ben, the thoroughly nice bloke who runs the Bootleggers Ball, telling me that, amongst other things, we’d be headlining the night, which came as a bit of a shock as we assumed that we would in effect be the third band in the scheme of the things. As it turned out, only ourselves and The Candidates played. Nevertheless all of a sudden the wait until we were on was lengthened yet further. Headlining would mean we wouldn’t be on stage until midnight. Which left plenty of time, of course, for nerves.

But it didn’t actually quite happen that way – all along I thought that I would feel terrible before the gig and fantastic during it, but I didn’t feel too bad – if anything more nervous on stage that off. When we started playing I didn’t relax instantly the way I thought I might - it made me think of being in a car and being unable to apply the brakes; one has to just keep going and turning the corners. But we didn’t crash.

After a really long day we met at the venue at 7pm, and carried out our first soundcheck; I suppose it was at this point that we were at our most panicky; the dynamics of am empty club are strange, cold, and a bit intimidating. Conversely Ben and The Candidates were welcoming and friendly. Once we were on stage and playing it felt amazing, actually, although again it’s a disorientating experience – the temptation, particularly, to put one’s head down and sing through the nose at minimal volume is great. But it doesn’t work that way – to make yourself heard you have to really project. Actually, credit should go to Andy here, who ripped through Bomba with gusto. Soundchecking Losin’ My Mind, with it’s glottal stops and half-spontaneous lyrics made me feel extremely silly, but the other band met it with it with warm, kind applause. Suddenly a cloud of nervousness was lifted, for which I have to thank them, and us, for it was at that point when I first thought ‘maybe we’re just like any other band, not something which will incite pity or embarrassment'. So I felt OK from there.

Yet the downside of soundchecking so early and playing so late meant that we now had three and a half hours to kill. Ali, once more showing a sensibility beyond his years decided to go home and relax. Anne-Sophie, Pete, Andy and myself, demonstrating a mentality symptomatic of our lifestyles, went to the pub, but not until we had met up with friends – Victoria, Sam, Andrew, Chris and one or two others. It was a comfort to know that there were people around who would treat us kindly, and good to see people like Chris travelling to Brighton to see us. Good work. Arriving at the venue we found further friends; Carrie, Jeanne, David from The Feline Dream and various other mates. Thanks for coming down to those people.

All the same the reality tends to kick in at this point and you find yourself thinking ‘my god, is this really happening?’. Several times throughout the night I found myself suddenly remembering that I would be onstage in a matter of hours where I had all but forgotten moments earlier.

The Candidates went onstage at about 11.15. We were lucky to have such a nice band to be playing with us; the singer even going so far as to intimate they were there to ‘warm up’ the crowd for us. The Candidates themselves were, I thought, very good – tuneful, classic indie pop with warmth and feeling. The singer in particular was charismatic and funny, a good frontman. They were at least as good as any number of bands in the limelight at the moment. Hopefully we’ll get the chance to play with them again, and maybe we could warm up their fans next time.

Once they finished there was a lull as we suddenly realised that in the following moments we would have to get ourselves together and prepare to play. I seemed to spend the entire next twenty minutes on the stage looking nervously at my guitar and out into the crowd, who had gathered in reasonable numbers around the stage. I still didn’t feel that nervous, but instead like a bit of an imbecile, awkwardly out front when I wanted to be tucked into the crowd. We didn’t know when to start. We got pretty much ready and then me and Pete went and bought a beer each. We must have been nervous by then because as I write this my stomach is churning a little with tension, remembering how it felt. Now I can feel my hands tingling a bit. But we got on stage OK and the music stopped. I decided not to say anything until the first song was over. And then we played It’s Alright.

Everyone warned me in advance that the easiest trap to fall into is playing too fast. And falling to me as it did to start the first song, I scrunched my eyes up and tried to play it slow. As the opening chords came out it sounded like I was playing them at half the usual pace. By the time the drums and bass had joined in I realised the pace was right. Which just goes to show how difficult it was keeping the songs under control. The song went well though – Ali curtailed the close as we had discussed, reasoning that although it’s tempting to be as difficult as possible, doing so in the first song when you’ve already dispensed with the idea of having a chorus may not be the most inclusive idea. So we cut it short, and did it right.

From there on in (for a while) it was pretty good. Losin’ My Mind we played a bit too fast but after that Bomba and Broken were much improved. Playing Get Away I thought to myself ‘This is probably as good as we’ve played’, and I think I was right – when we get this song right we sound fantastic. It's strange that this song seems to have just evolved into something without us directing it. I can't remember how it all came together, who suggested which chords, when the chorus acquired lyrics, how we managed to impose some kind of form onto it - but it works well. At the gig we gave this one everything we had. We sang and we smiled and we bashed at our guitars until they were thoroughly, hopelessly out of tune.

And had no tuning pedals to help us correct the problem. Obviously it’s common practice to have them but we didn’t really give it much thought and didn’t have time to get ourselves back in tune onstage. It was awkward. The remaining songs were done well enough but everything was accompanied by cautious glances between us as we tried to work out just how mis-aligned our de-tuned strings were. There was a definite loss of confidence. At the time, I felt we'd blown it. An over-reaction, judging by the kind and enthusiastic reports we got afterwards, but I felt a bit shaken and upset that the good start hadn't been maintained. It seemed so obvious too that it would happen, and that we didn't have the means to get it right felt so unfair. Of course, if we had brazened it out a bit more people might hardly have noticed, but...

It didn't matter, not really. Of the remaining songs Freaks in particular stood out as a song that'll just get better and better, and the rest probably sounded pretty good too, but for the fact that that feeling of confidence had gone a little; it does make a difference you see – it’s the difference between singing at full pelt and falling away, between really playing with conviction and abandon and going – to an extent – through the motions. But when we finished the crowd cheered, and it wasn’t long after that that we had time to think and realised 'fuck it, we enjoyed that'. And we can be much better next time. We will be.

And how does it feel being on stage playing? It is scary, but it is exhilarating. It is exciting, buoying, brilliant, but it needs confidence and it needs you to be able to say 'fuck it'; it can be a strain to stay on top of the momentum and a strain to keep your head. But god, it's fun.

Most of all, though, it's over much, much too soon.

not having been that good at keeping up with my diary recenty, I feel like a guilty husband who has to return home to tell all. Okay, not that bad but I sympathise with him if he ever thought he had nothing more to say to his wife. Maybe that's what happens when you keep rehearsng without other diversions along the way. But I'm not saying that recent rehearsals have been boring or that any of my enthusiasm has dampened. Nevertheless, I was wondering what I would keep writing about the band and our slow march of practice sessions on this site, what I could say which wouldn't bore you (the hypothetical you) to tears, or worse, which would singularly fail to do justice to the giddy pleasure of being in our band. Despite the fact that we were just rehearsing and not playng live or recording, I haven't been bored. But finding the words to reflect this enthusiasm is very difficult. Maybe I find it easier playing guitar than I do writing? I don't think so, but all the same, where do you go when your diary becomes a weeping wife? Why do the boring keep these things? Why be reminded?

But (there's a but), there has been some news. So now I get to confess all, and finally write something interesting.

First (and best), Assistant will be playing our first ever gig at Casablancas in Brighton on Wednesday 19th February 2003. Details can be got from the Assistant website. The night is known as The Bootlegger's Ball, and is a new (and seemingly successful) Band Showcase night; three bands playing and running from 9.30 'til 2 in the morning. We don't yet know what time we are on but we've been promised a 30/40 minute set, which is really good, as it cuts down the problem of culling our set (of which more later) and means we have time to play a few songs. I don't know who else is playing yet either, but the increasingly in-the-public-eye Clearlake headlined last week, so I don't think we are dealing with quite the same level of amateurism as we did in our ultmately fruitless contact with The Toad last year. Pete went to watch the first night and noted all the (reassuring or panic-inducing?) signs - the sound is good, the evening was well attended. And we may be nervous but we are also ready, so I'm looking forward to it unashamedly, without reserve. About fucking time, too.

2. And bad news always follows good. Well, news which has sorrowful ramifications for the band anyway. Anne-Sophie, our dazzlingly continental keyboardist, has just got a job in Luxembourg. Of couse,this is jolly good news for her, but it means that she is leaving us, at least she is assuming that she does not come back to Brighton. In the hope that she will, we're calling it a sabattical. Who knows though - she'll be greatly missed, and not just coz she makes cool noises. This makes attendence at next week's gig doubly essential, I need scarcely hasten to add - if you want to see the five-piece in all it's angular glory, that is.

3. Not so much news, I suppose, but an update on rehearsals is probably due. Mostly we've been working on refining the set, although we've found time to do some more work on Freaks (now sounding really great) and Sleepwalk (complete with gorgeous intro and a bit less clutter). Trimming our songs down to a setlist has proved really difficult, of course, particularly when people have preferences. Pete and I were musing on how hard it must be to pull together an album. Nevertheless, we decided on a setlist consisting of...

1. It's Alright
2. Losing my Mind
3. Bomba
4. Broken
5. John Wyndham
6. Get Away
7. Tonight
8. No-one need ever know
9. Reasoned
10. Freaks
11. I want a cigarette.

Having said that, with one rehearsal to go... who knows. This time next week we may be playing a 40 minute bass odyssey.

another rehearsal whizzes by but this time I'll keep it short.
We made lots of noise.

A proper rehearsal today, though no Andy, who is off encountering the psychedelics of Love tonight (the pop group, not the emotion). When one person isn’t at a practice it always seems a little strange, you can hear the gaps where he or she would be. Funnily enough though, when you know, for example, a bassline quite well you can kind of hear it in your head even when it isn’t there. Nevertheless, it isn’t quite the same.

Tonight was good though; we played a few of the oldies, slowing cranking ourselves up in volume with each song, and Ali making idle adjustments to his drumkit and sabotaging himself in the process, via new, wrongly weighted drumsticks (sheesh, what a muso) and his adjusted bass pedal. Of all the oldies I was best pleased with Get Away, which we tried to imbue with a little of yesterday’s carefulness, and managed to find new spaces in the noise. Turning to new songs, we had a great time with Sleepwalk, which is shaping up as a great little song, churning away grungily for the first half before Pete’s guitar goes off like a sparkler at the close, leading us to a chiming countrified end. It sounds really nice.

I’d put together a couple of demos in the week and we spent a bit of time working on one of my new songs, which I think we called Islands though that might change. Victoria has accused me of ripping off XTC on this one, and she’s right. It was one of those songs which we played together quickly and satisfyingly, though it needs work. Another simple and maybe promising one. We ended, as is our wont, with an abrupt version of I want a cigarette, within which I screamed myself hoarse. It hurt.

The first in a happily active two days of Assistant activity, just when I was wondering when I'd next get the chance to play. Last week Victoria got a new job which was such good news it felt wrong to rehearse, so while the rest of the band went along as normal and played without me, me and Vic stayed in. Or rather, went out and had a celebratory drink.

So yesterday afternoon, when I went over to Pete's flat to play guitar for a couple of hours, it was, if you'll pardon the expression, fuckin' great. Really nice to do it, and strange that some of our songs seem to work so well acoustically, even Get Away, which tends to get pounded into submission when we play it as a band. Some observations though... I am knock-elbowed; shifting them outwards to accomodate a stretched-out chord is near impossible - I need someone standing nearb y to wrench my arm outwards at the crucial moment. Secondly, my fingers hurt. I sound like I'm moaning now, don't I? Thirdly, I love playing guitar with other people.

I couldn't be less like a bedroom-bound guitar-huggist. Playing alone usually leaves me irritated, unless I happen to chance upon something I like; I don't play just for the pleasure of playing. But I love intermingling the experience of playing with someone else; it's fascinating and fun. It also seems improbable, creating such an improbable sound; all the notes bouncing around off eachother.

Afterwards we went for a drink with Victoria and Andrew. The Belle Vue, the pub at the top of our road, has recently been bought out by the owners of The Freemasons. They've added some lights and hiked up the prices. Hmm. Thanks guys. But we went to The Freemasons for the first time and it's lovely. We aimed for one pint and ended up drinking three or four, as usual. My obsession growing, I talked about html. What has happened to me?

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Been spending some time working on the website, and finding it quite enjoyable actually learning something about it - went through the site yesterday adding meta tags and all sorts of instructions to robots, and enjoyed doing so. I am a techie at long last. I clearly have my priorities wrong, eschewing the rock and roll life and immersing myself in javascript. Thankfully, that's not wholly true, although the rock and roll lifestyle hasn't quite kicked in (good). Actually, you wonder whether any of us are 'living the dream' - Andy can be found extolling the virtues of Chichester Council's Rights of Way department these days (as a sliver of evidence), and Anne-Sophie is decamping to Luxembourg, leaving us with a 5 month long no-keyboards-void! She will return though and is Assistant. Meanwhile we went to the pub last night rather than a gig at Casablancas. Ah well. Happily we're not totally devoid of musical inspiration - I spent twenty minutes editing a drum loop from Can's 'Hallelujah' last night, inspired by Andrew's recent forays into Reason, a computer music tool thingy. Which brings the circle back round to computers! And now I must abandon my diary to write cover copy for a book on (eerie, this) javascript. (because i am at work, and m u s t w o r k m u s t w o r k m u s t w o r k ) ah.

Went to the pub with Ali and Carrie last night and tried to make some plans for the coming months. Some of the things that we're going to try to do in the next month or two include..
- finishing off old songs; we've got about six or seven unfinished songs which need tidying up and being sent off into their world so that new ones can grow in their place
- recording: we're thinking we might try to get a live studio recording of our set; not through an MD, a proper recording
- gigs: we'll get some - possibly trying to play with the fantastic The Feline Dream, whom we like.
- demos; we're building up a list of local press / industry / gig contacts but if anyone out there knows of newspapers, venues, clubs or websites which may be of interest, or which may be interested in Assistant, do let us know by emailing us at assistantbrighton@yahoo.fr - we're always grateful to friends, and have long memories...

(spots pattern emerging) No rehearsal last night as Ali's band, Over Sea Under Stone, played at the Freebutt - me, Pete, Anne-So and Sam went to cheer them on; they were loud and a bit pissed off; few new songs and um it looked like they didn't want to be there. I'd still take them over a million Electric Soft Parades or Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disasters though. But Luke, really... stop wearing sunglasses. Please.

Ah, I like Christmas carols, although I realised the other day that, the odd memorable bit aside, I don't actually know the words to anyway. Any sing along instigated in the Shipley household would mean a lot of 'hmm nnng la-la-la'ing. Luckily, no such chore was required; a few dirges buzzed away on the radio in the background, but Christmas back in London with my family was a reasurringly irrelegious affair - the nearest we got was a Bob Dylan compilation I bought my dad (Dylan was, apparently, God, but the he went 'electric' and became the Devil, something like that, I dunno, I'll ask Pete).

Well we didn't get another rehearsal in before Christmas, which is why the site hasn't been updated for a couple of weeks and the diary has no new (pretentious, I'm informed) musings. So today's diary entry is rather less band-related than usual. I haven't yet seen everyone from the band again so I dunno how their Christmasses went -well, I hope. Rehearsals and diary entries proper will resume again soon, I promise....

On Monday we did a song I've been working on for the last couple of weeks. It often works that way. At one point or other in the evening there's usually a stage when one or two people aren't ready to play; when Ali is sorting out his drums up or P is tuning his guitar. Tonight I started churning out the slightly sickly, grungy chords of my new song while we were setting up. Within minutes we were all playing along, trying to get to grips with it's odd-ish timing. By the time Andy has turned up (not long after; "Hi Andy, cold isn't it? The gig's off") we've added a chorus and it sounds great.

Having first started quietly and built the song up to a weighty squall, we decide to turn the formua around and start at our loudest. This means the song starts suddenly and agressively, before the calm sets over and Pete's guitar notes begin to break through the noise. Given we only played it for 45 minutes, this could be one of our best songs I think; I'll demo it and perhaps Anne-So, whose new, long, keyboard lead means she can join us in the centre of the room having previously been confined to the edges, can sing it. For the sake of reference, I'll call the song Sleepwalk, though that'll probably change. Most likely, having played it seething with the bitter frustration of losing the gig it'll never sound so taut or malevolent again. Well.

Meeting once a week with friends who happen to play in a band tends to mean the temptation is always there to put down your guitar and go and talk. While Pete, Ali and Andy worked on an old song of Pete's (yet a new one to us) which, frankly, was a little beyond my ken, me and Anne-So mucked around, settin up a second keyboard and musing on the possibilities of a six handed piano solo. Over our chatter Pete picked his way through a beautiful piece of melancholy guitar which we'll have to return to. From that we came to another of his songs, one which I think I heard him play at the Sussex Arts Club night the evening I met him. Played on Monday - at first - I couldn't quite see how such a naked song could be approached by the band, but once we got going with it and it picked up a fraction of pace it started sounding really promising - Anne So's keyboard throwing up some zig-zaggy notes which had me thinking of the clarinet lines on early Mercury Rev records. This could be a really good song for us, I think. It's when we stab at songs like this and run out of time that the passage of time between rehearsals seems to stretch on forever. I can't wait 'til Monday.

Looking back there's nothing to suggest that the rehearsal went badly; three new songs to work on, several bottles of Grolsch (sorry Anne-Sophie, I'd forgotten the KKK) and nice to see everyone. But I think we all felt so disappointed about the news that everything seemed discoloured. Never mind; we'll make up for the lost gig and when we do maybe we'll play the new songs....

ah, the words bitterly and disappointed have been (and will be) bandied about a great deal in the last 24 hours. Our gig is cancelled. We found out shortly before our rehearsal last night, and all feel pretty dismal and upset about it. It means we'll be hard pushed to play before Christmas (although we're looking into renting out The Sanctuary Cafe for the night to make up for it, though I don't think they'll have a night free in the near future). Sorry to anyone hoping the diary would spring belatedly to life with the arrival of live action. Ho Hum.

Far too dismayed to write a comprehensive report of last night's play, I'll do that later.

A rare midweek entry given that, it being a rather grey and uninspiring Friday morning here at work, my thoughts are less on this afternoon’s transmittal meeting and more on the gig, to whit (a) why am I putting myself through this appalling ordeal, (b) will the A & R men of Europe converge upon us (somewhat unlikely, yes) and (c) would we benefit from some kind of hilarious / arch costume, to project us into the NME's 50 great bands who look exactly like The White Stripes list? And how shall I perfect my Detroit twang? Ah well, never mind. That said, I can't decide what to wear. Is this the ultimate evidence of the shallow nature of pop; that it somehow matters more that I consider my clothing than get round to buying that set of new strings I need? No, it has more to do (I think) with the fact that i find the idea of myself on stage, playing guitar and singing, utterly unlikely and I'm trying to make it more plausible. Positioning myself outside myself, thinking "what would he wear if he was on stage". Ah.

One week to go now; last nights rehearsal was great - bashing out the set and picking holes in our selection; deciding to finish with a combination of Andy's newest song (a lilting, tom-rich drumbeat and a cheeky bassline) and our smoking song (which basically consists of forty seconds of discordance and shouting) and thinking that sounds great, thanks. The latter song is there because it's too much fun not to play; we fleshed it out a bit, me and Anne-Sophie taking it in turns to belt out the words, but the whole thing still comes in under a minute; better to end the set with a yelp than a whimper.

So that's just one more rehearsal to go until the gig. I can't tell how nervous I am / will be yet. What is nerves and what is excitement? But I am in that dazed and perpetual state of near-nausea and reckless bravado, imagining how it will be, a schoolboy hurtling towards something like his first kiss. Good stuff.

as astute followers of the Assistant webpage will know, we're now preparing for our first ever gig. This means working out a setlist and running through songs consecutively. It's tiring, We met up at Strummers last night and quickly turned our attention to which songs we'll play. There weren't any disagreements, but it was still a job whittling them down. In the end we adopted a more is better policy and crammed ten songs in. Pending changes, our set on the 11th should consist of

1. It's Alright
2. Losin' My Mind
3. Get Away
4. Bomba
5. Broken
6. Tonight
7. John Wyndham
8. Bad Vibrations
9. No-one need ever know
10. Reasoned

Running through them, it was only at the last hurdle that we fell down, the still quite new and unfamiliar Reasoned defeating us. No matter, the set sounded good although it's funny how individual errrors continue to slip in even where you dont expect them. Is there any song I've played more and know better than John Wyndham? I don't think so. But first I got the opening chords wrong and then forgot the first line. It's easy to go into auto-pilot sometimes and drift away. During one song I closed my eyes for a verse and chorus and felt quite strange when i opened them again, as if I had been somewhere else for a few minutes but the sound had carried on.

Of the songs, Broken continues to benefit from it's new chorus, Andy adapted his bassline effortlessly, Get Away seeemed almost instinctive for a change, with the guitar sound moderated and strict adherence to the rules the method at all times. No-one need ever know was bleedingly loud and taut, the keyboards crashing through the guitar, and Reasoned a tuneful and uplifting set closer, once we had it mastered.

Does the set sound coherent? Something I've been wondering ever since we started. I think it does, although where it fits in I don't quite know. I submitted our site to a couple of search engines this week and once again had trouble describing us. In the end I think I went for 'offbeat and angular indie rock', reasoning that in the abscense of an apt phrase springing naturally to mind, something which sounded journalistically desirable would do the trick. It seemed a shame to lable us 'indie' but it provides people with a better idea than my preferred 'pop group'. So there you go. I don't think the description was too lax, all things considered, and as I hinted when I began this rambling paragraph, I think an Assistant 'sound' is coming together. We don't sound particularly like anyone else, at least.

In the bookshop at lunch today I read an interview with Thurston Moore in some book or other, where he said that Sonic Youth lyrics matter as much as the music. Made me wonder why I have made such minimal effort with pulling lyrics together. Perhaps I should. Certainly you won't be finding any of my lyrics on the website for a bit :-) Unless someone else puts them up :-(

Day one.
But we didn't rehearse today, so I'll start with the last time we did.
Monday 10th November

All down to Strummers at usual 'cept Andy who has a cold, but all is well as we're in the mood for being noisy and swapping instruments. But first Pete has a new song, or a new idea for a song. Only thing is I can't get my fingers around my guitar part. In the end we swap over and I play the chords and he plays the lead line. It sounds good. I vow to learn the guitar bit properly, and to somehow make my fingers more stretchy.

Next, having bashed out a few of the standards, I put forward an idea for a new chorus for broken, This means someone learning the backing vocals. But I'm rubbish at explaining it and, having tried to sing the lead and backing vocal simultaneously a couple of times, Anne-Sophie casually invents a much better melody and we give it a go. It sounds great; her phrasing gives its a gallic lilt which sounds amazing. Meantime Pete twists his guitar line around the new chords. Great. We're happy with that. It needs a bassine, but so does everything tonight.

Ali teaches me a cool trick involving the E string, a drumstick and a lot of reverb. Thank you Ali. This achieved, it was necessary to prove that Anne-So is a worse drummer than me. Alas, she isn't, but we 'jammed' merrily anyway with me creating absurd noises on the keyboard. Ha ha ha. Andy we need you back - you hold us together! wheeeee...