3:00. 315 Uxbridge Road. Look for black Rover with Welsh tags.
     There aren't many public transit routes to Uxbridge, but there is, fortunately, the Shepherd's Bush Market station, just a two mile walk from the main intersection of Uxbridge Road and Broadway, and the Bus 207.
     Shepherd's Green is becoming trendy. Primarily a working class neighborhood -- still home to Poles, Lebanese, Africans and New Zealanders -- there has been an influx of musicians and artists of late, crowning it the London version of Montemarte. The main thoroughfare in Shepherd's Bush is Uxbridge Road, which is home to a famous music venue -- the Shepherds Bush Empire -- which has played host to the likes of Dylan, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Phish, and ... recently... from some new neighbor-lads, Oxford Comma.
     The flats and homes in Shepherd's Green are a series of three and four storey terraces, all from the late 1800s and of the typical Victorian red-brick. Most of these have been divided (and sub-divided) into flats for sale and rent. But there are a few left intact. One such terrace, recently purchased, is 315 Uxbridge Road.
     Squeezed in amid a line of cars is a black Land Rover with Welsh tags, just as promised. The door to 315 Uxbridge Road is open, cracked ajar and waiting. And from within, and a bit of music, acoustic guitar.

     Loki stands outside on the sidewalk for a minute, doing the double check of address and car against the information stored in his phone. Memory's all very well when there's no other way to be sure, but measure twice, cut once is the way to avoid embarrassing mistakes.
     Besides, it's only 2:58.
     He pushes the door open to step inside at three o'clock on the dot, a hand reflexively reaching up to unbutton his coat.

     It is not lived in. At all. It is clearly under renovation. There is cardboard on the floor covering the slab where carpet was pulled up. Through the door is the foyer, a sitting room, and then to the right, a series of apartments -- living room, kitchen. And that's where the music is coming from...
     Sitting on boxes in the living room is a casually dressed -- for once, in jeans and a Black Jack Davy's tee shirt -- Balthazar Davies, with his unplugged red and gold wonder in his arms and on his lap. On an old sofa that won't be staying once renovations are complete, his dark hair a mess, is Reggie deBrees, in blazer, jeans and tee shirt. There is a drum set, but no drummer (not yet!). And coming out of the kitchen is Prince Billy Jones, rhythm and keyboards, with a sandwich in his mouth. "Hoi! Drummer's here!" he announces.
     The other lads look up and Balthazar grins. "Welcome to the Shambles Inn.."
     Reggie -- the very laid back bassist, as a good many of them are -- smiles and nods.

     Loki has a smile he uses for meeting new people, and it's even a sincere one, if so fast you might miss it on a long blink. "Afternoon," he says, and gets tired of being all hands in the pocket, enough so to pull out his own drumsticks from his coat. Drum sets are fungible, but a good set of sticks is a drummer's best friend. "This the usual place for practice?"

     "It is now, I think, yeah?" Billy says, then wonders, then second guesses himself, then shrugs and sits down with his snack.
     "It will be eventually. I have four floors, but right now it's... in a bit of flux," Balthazar smiles. He rises, setting the guitar aside and comes forward to shake your hand. "Reg, you remember...."
     "Hallo," Reg says in his even way. You'd might guess he were a toker by the way he just sort of mind-melds with the sofa. It's a natural high.
     "That's Billy, rhythm, keyboards, sometimes lead guitar, depends. Anyway, pull up a box... you want something to eat? I have sandwiches..."
     "They're smashin'," Billy says with his mouth full, then covers it.
     "You better get them while the getting is good, as they say. He's on his fifth. Anyway," Balthazar continues, "... we're setting up shop here today. But by next week, I think we'll have a place a bit north -- at least until the renovations are done. I'm planning on using one of the storey's as studio space. I sort of want to make this ground zero."

     The drumsticks go into Loki's left hand so he can shake yours with the right. The rest get a little wave with the sticks, as it all gets a little too meet-and-greet if it turns into a round of handshakes. "I could go for a sandwich," he says, pushing a box towards the drum set with one foot. "There anything for coffee back there? Or hot water, I can make my own."
     Presumably, with renovations come proper soundproofing. More important than a good coat of paint, that's for sure.

     "Cucumber sandwiches... and, yes," Balthazar chuckles, "...there is coffee. We have a cafe within spitting distance, which is good since there's no hot water at the moment. It's all right through there," he gestures toward the kitchen -- which is in the process of being de-tiled. It will also be expanded. "Help yourself."
     Reggie bends down and gets the folder. He silently hands Balthazar a piece of paper. And then another. "Right," Balthazar notes. But he doesn't launch into things until you've your sandwich and coffee.

     Loki wolfs down half a sandwich and a cup of coffee on the way back from the kitchen, and settles himself behind the drum kit. One light touch on each drumhead, not hard enough to be a real tap, to get a feel for the set, and he sits back with sticks upright. Waiting on your every command, boss.

     "So, some things for you... just to get the business out of the way. Here's a copy of our current schedule," Balthazar begins. He hands it over to you with a half-grin. "You'll notice we're busy."
     Oxford Comma plays every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, with Tuesdays and Wednesdays marked as rehearsal days, "...and the current set list. Since most of our stuff is original at this point, I've got our two demos for you. We'll give you those before you leave. Mainly we just wanted to tell you what we're about as a band, how we work, et cetera. We know you can play," he grins. "That's not an issue. We all liked your stuff."
     Reggie smiles and Billy is kicked back with the second half of is sandwich.
     "We're a working band, Loki. We work. It's how we make our living. Course, we're all trust fund kids so maybe that's easy to say," Balthazar chuckles. "Still... we're serious about it. We're recording, I handle the marketing and gigging so far with Reg's help. We're looking for management and representation and we're getting a few nibbles. I expect we're going to have both by summer."

     Loki flips through the schedule. He looks downright pleased by the regularity of practices and performances, and that's not just because of the coffee starting to kick in. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to work," he says, looking up at you. "Gillian already told you about my one trip coming up at the end of the month, right? Everything else, I'm there when you want me."

     "She mentioned something about California. It's no problem," Balthazar says, taking a seat on a box. "Charlie's in as far as local stuff. He's fine to sub, he says, as long as we need him. How long will you be gone? Was it two weeks? It doesn't matter, really. If you need a month to travel and get up to speed, we're covered."
     Reggie sits forward: "Charlie's booked these days as a studio musician down at Little Island Studio, and it's really what he prefers to do at this point. But he said he goes in after dropping the kids off at school and lays his tracks. He should be able to make our schedule without a problem. I talked to him yesterday."
     "I'm fine with whatever," Prince Billy offers, "... B's happy, Reg is happy. I'm happy. I'm looking forward to it..."
     Balthazar looks to Loki and grins. "We're an easy going lot, really. Our thing is: show up, be ready to work, be on time, be sober. You can drink once we get paid..."
     "You'll want to cover that, too," Reggie reminds.
     "Oh, oes," a funny sounding 'yes', "you probably want to know how we do that." Balthazar chuckles. "We take equal breaks, with the exception of ten-percent that is divided between myself and Reggie for the marketing and so on. Once we're represented, then that'll go to management for overhead. So far, there are two main writers: me and Reggie. You're certainly welcome to write. We don't say who can or who can't. Billy's a great editor -- he's a good one to bounce things off of. He's our sound board," Balthazar smiles. And Billy waves.

     "Less than a month," Loki says. His sticks keep touching down in tiny taps along the edges of the drums, never hard enough to make any real noise. Feeling out the unfamiliar set. There's a little funny look from him at that 'oes' that doesn't really linger. "It all sounds more than fair. Professional."

     "Then, by the power vested in me," Balthazar rolls out with a grin as he rises, "I pronounce us band and drummer. We'll start practicing today and tonight, if that's alright with you. And then grab a bit of dinner. There's a group playing at The Empire that we want to see. I'm looking to add a small string section. I can't always count on the girls of the Conservatory to skip classes," he winks.
     Though they certainly would if he asked...
     Reggie just grins. It's a bit of a shite eating grin. He doesn't add any commentary.
     Rolling his head against the chair's cushion, Prince Billy looks over at Loki with a smirk: "Personally, I voted for steel drums, but I was out-voted."
     Balthazar looks on nonplussed, his eyebrows cocking up. "I promised you we'd add steel drums to our roving mariachi punk-caribbean fusion band, Billy. We sometimes play under aliases," Balthazar notes, "... if we're just jamming with friends. I'll send you the links to the band pages, we have our own domain, et cetera. Mailing lists, you name it. If you'd like to help with any of that, just let me know. I'm not sure when I get any sleep," he says suddenly.

     Loki cracks another smile. Band and drummer it is. "You want steel drums, I'll need a week or two to get up to speed," he says to Billy. He sits up straighter (not much straighter to get, even sitting on a box) to note, "Sure, I can lend a hand. I don't do graphics work, but I know how the inside of a website should look, and I haven't overwritten my own backup drives by accident in, oh, months."

     When Balthazar smiles, there's something golden in it. It is true, it is genuine, it is warm. It has an alchemy all its own.
     "Excellent. Alright then, sandwiches down, gentlemen, and instruments up..."

Posted by rowan at February 24, 2009 11:49 AM