Monmouth – an hour

Dinamic playing in Hereford's High Town

We checked out the lie of the streets; now the market’s been misplaced in the municipal car park the town is uncomfortably divided between the old and new town. So, while my partner goes furniture foraging, I set up in an acoustic corridor adjoining the Co-op midway down the High Street. In the entrance.

Town side.

In the sun.

Pause.

Set iPod running with my recorded backtrack playing through Roland.

‘Blue Moon’

I take the sax out, run the duster over it, watch and am watched. Adjust the neck band (they must have a name) and . . .

‘Blue Mooooon’

A little sharp, soften the embouchure, better

‘You see me walking alone’

Better, hitting the high notes now, relaxing, a touch of vibrato, letting the sax do the work

‘Without a love of my own’

The sound of small change dropping into the case.

‘Diolch. Thanks you.’ To an older lady. Does she like it? Do I look poor? I’m just delivering a service. Did she, maybe, once have her own Blue Moon?

It was a slow old hour, but the change kept coming (‘Thanks, thank you, diolch yn fawr’). Sometimes I forget how to play, then the notes come back. Not too many bum ones.

Try A Little Tenderness comes with the serendipity of the Shuffle command, but I’m losing my lip-o-suction. Time for a coffee.

Thank you Monmouth.