New Oxford hopefuls Step on Stubby, by which I mean kauket, drummer Jim and me, finally have enough songs to consider playing gigs. Admittedly three of them belong to other people, and the heart of one of the other three has been torn, warm and still beating, from the body of a certain pop impresario, and transplanted with staples of purest heavy metal into the body of our jerky, nature-defying monster. But that’s still six songs. As long as we don’t play to the po-faced city audiences we’ll be fine, he says. By the time we get our act in gear we might have a couple more of our own songs, anyway.
I’ve no idea how good we sound, really. We sound amazing. We soar. We sound appalling. We stumble. Take your pick, depending on my energy levels during rehearsals. If you want a second opinion, kauket says we’re “nails”, by which she apparently means we could cause a serious amount of physical harm and/or property damage to any other given band during a bout of post-gig fisticuffs. If I’d known that was part of the act then I’d have been developing the callouses on my knuckles, not my fingertips.