No nutters, stalkers or political activists: Just three guitars, a hammond organ, bass, drums and two backing singers, preferably black.

So it seems that I witnessed the final Magic Ship gig on Saturday night. At least Magic Ship fronted by one Faces-obsessed, Hawaiian shirted, Colin Gillman.

Colin has left Magic Ship, and he is keen to branch out creatively. To move away from the trappings of Magic Ship's brand of classic rock and explore melody and instrumentation beyond guitar, bass and drums.

So I thought, well he actually thought - 'cos he's the PR consultant - that it might make an interesting 'case study'-type thing to follow his progress on my blog. I think he's right, so I'm gonna give it a shot. From one man and a musical vision to a three guitar line-up with Hammond organ, drums, bass, and backing singers - preferably black. The ads, the auditions, the doubt and the dilemmas, the joy and the jealousy (not sure about that last one -Ed) - I'm gonna attempt to cover it all.

Colin has already posted an ad to the RTYD Musicians' Ads pages, and I believe to PartySounds.co.uk. He has been to JoinMyBand.co.uk but found nothing but a bunch of youngsters.

Now, he actually already has drummer and RTYD member Roy Phillips on board, which is great. Roy's a fantastic drummer, and a bit of an all-rounder by all accounts, so he and Colin are planning to work up a few songs with two acoustics over the next few weeks and play at one of my acoustic gigs at The Libertine in the near future. Just to keep the juices flowing, like.

And why not.

So watch this space.

The latest is, he's been down the Offy to get some beers in. Unfortunately, they are all out of his beloved London Pride. He is dumbfounded. He is incredulous. He is.... living in a lager-obsessed drinking culture. Poor bastard - I hate that too.

Have flyers, will flyer

18 years ago you would have often found me, and my very supportive partner at that time, standing outside the Camden Falcon in all weather, handing out A5 photocopied flyers to promote my band's gigs around town.

In the next few weeks, you may well find me again with hand outstretched, bearing a flyer (full colour, these days! - Ed), though not outside The Falcon, 'cos like many venues of the early-90s, it has since been turned into flats (that's another blog - Ed again).

This month I'll be mostly flyering the Punk-Rock-Til-You-Drop gig at the Dublin Castle on Wednesday 16th September.

Now, there's a series of punk gigs at the Underworld in the next couple of weeks, which would be good to flyer. There's one tonight, but the wife's out, so that ain't gonna happen. Never used to have that problem, of course, 18 years ago; the 'wife' then would come too. That 'wife' and I, though, didn't have a 6 year old daughter.

I'd like to get out to see more gigs, flyer more gigs, meet more people, and bands, but there just isn't the time there used to be to do such old fashioned things.

Did get out to see The Gowletts the other night in Willesden, and I'm going to see Magic Ship at the Half Moon in Putney on Saturday night. But more often than not, I am duty-bound to stay in and forced to promote Rock-Til-You-Drop to the outside world, like this. And I fucking hate the pressure to blog, too. That Colin Gilman is a natural. Not me.

I will have already spent bloody hours doing god-knows-what and appearing to achieve very little, before I get round to the matter of the blog. I also feel too guilty to spend too long at the computer. I spend a lot of time with my daughter at home, and I don't wanna give her the impression that being on the computer is most of what I do. Or more importantly, what she should do. I'm sure that's a modern-parenting hang-up; it used to be watching too much TV, now it's spending too much time on the computer that is the concern. It's probably my fault that my daughter is already working on her own website and .com business. Thankfully, though, she also likes drawing, and is already showing an interest in making music.

So I get back on it (the computer, that is) when she's in bed, and by 11:00pm, my hands ache, my back aches, my eyes are burning, my head is spinning. Like now. I have to stop. But there's still so much more to do. Like the links on this blog. Then the wife comes in, in a loquacious mood after a few too many, and wants to chat. And I can't listen, cos I just wanna get this fucking thing finished.

I'll shut up about it now.

Anyway, the next punk gig at the Underworld that is worth flyering is on a night that I am rehearsing with my band - so that's out, too. Another is on a Sunday night. Great! Going out at 10:30 on a Sunday night to flyer a fucking gig.

I hope you enjoyed the blog, anyway.

Magic Ship at the Club'ouse

Went to Twickenham last night to see Magic Ship play a pub gig at the Clubhouse.

They sounded great. Their two sets included a mix of material from the first album Love Tel Motel, and the second as yet untitled album, which is in-the-making. Set two was particularly strong and dynamic, and gathered a great momentum by its culmination which saw Colin taking a dramatic leap from his amplifier to end the final toilet flush of the evening and tearing a bloody great hole in the ceiling of the venue in the process. Rock and fucking roll!

Colin and Sam were in top classic-rock form, pulling plenty of familiar rock poses and actions - foot on monitor, Townshend-style windmill guitar-playing - and just generally indulging in guitar hero emulations. And I was touched by Colin dedicating a version of my favourite Magic Ship song, Black Holes Don't Everything, to me. I was also pleased to meet Colin's good friend, fellow mature musician and serial blogger Istvanski, who is clearly one of the good guys.

The night ended in Colin's living room, with Colin and me in a fair stupor, playing his acoustic, and his old song demos. My kind of end to a great evening.

"Rock-Til-You-Drop, Rock-Til-You-Drop-Radio, Let's Go!"

So here it is... the first RTYD radio show podcast, or podcast radio show, or something?

It was not easy, but I'm into keeping it up, and trying to improve it. I know I have a new-found respect for Dave Lee Travis now. Listening back, it all sounds a little bit serious but hopefully a little more humour will edge its way in, and also my soporific vocal delivery will be replaced with a full-of-beans charismatic one; though somehow I very much doubt the latter.

Of course, you can always think of things you could have said and didn't, like:

how The Invisible Band remind me of a Dutch industrial/electronic/heavy metal outfit I really like called Kong. (Well, I've got one of their albums!)

And how the charming thing about Magic Ship is how American they sound bearing in mind that they come out of Twickenham and Brentford. But then I s'pose the Stones based their entire career on Amercianism. And strangely their form of Americanism ended up seeming kinda English.

And how I, Thalamus have morphed into something quite different since the release of Wild West. They are now a 7-piece live band, Grant having employed a double-bassist, a mandolin player and a violinist.

Stuff like that.

And then you start thinking of jingles and other bits of nonsense like that. We'll see.

Anyway, thanks for listening. If you want me to mention you or your gig or plug your CD, or whatever, let me know. I welcome your thoughts as always, especially on the issue of free downloads that I touch on at the end.

Ideas over beers

Okay. Enough.

Back from Holland.

Rewind.

Met with Colin and Magic Ship on the night before I left, and was introduced to friends of the band, Kenny (AKA Kenski), TC and Push (ex-Melody Maker journalist and, as Christopher Dawes, author of Rat Scabies and Holy Grail). All nice blokes.

Colin is gutted 'cos the guy who is gonna photograph the band in the pub, doesn't turn up. I feel for him, especially as he is all dressed up for the opportunity.

Colin is confident, well-connected and a born match-maker. He proceeds to inform me of every connection useful to me, that he can think of. He is witty, and he speaks his mind, which is good for me 'cos I have a tendency to keep my opinions and feelings to myself. He won't stand for such retiscence. He is both encouraging and inspiring, and he educates me about this blogging lark and podcasts and stuff.

We have the idea of setting up a record label, which is great, and needs further, more sober, discussion. I look forward to this very soon.

Oh, and I agree to join his punk side-project The Dead Dictators, which is in greater need of a punk drummer (Rat Scabies, maybe?), already having three or four guitarists on board.

Three Newcastle Brown Ales and Jack Daniels and Coke later I leave feeling a hell of lot better than I did earlier that day (see that day's blog) - I'm looking after my daughter over the Easter break and days can be long even if we do go out, and often end with me sitting at the computer wondering what to do with it, while my daughter watches Numberjacks and Chuggington in the other room.