I’ll start this with a word of advice to any two-legged creature who may read this. Beware of bearded morris men. 

When discussing my love life, a la Bridget Jones, over lunch with a friend on a Thames barge (more years ago than I would care to admit), I said glibly : ‘I’m going to find myself a bearded morris man to marry’.

At the time it was a flippant, alcohol-induced remark. It’s turned out to be a prophecy. Within weeks I’d found him. Years later we’re still married. What’s that got to do with Shave the Monkey, you may ask? Well, it’s his fault that I met Duncan Moss, who was then (gasp!) a morris dancer. Which means it’s his fault, indirectly, that I’m writing these words today.

So here I am, the new girl (girl, who am I trying to kid?) in the band very kindly described by Steve (we miss you Steve!!) as five grumpy old men and one woman. Steve’s a very tough act to follow. Everybody loves him. And how do you replace a melodeon with a fiddle? (Pyres of firewood jokes already supplied by my family, so no more of THOSE thanks!)

I think the answer is, you can’t. You start again. Carving your own niche within a group of people who’ve been successfully making music together for as long as Shave is not easy. But it’s new. It’s creative. It’s exciting, and it promises to be a lot of fun.

One thing that has travelled with me wherever I have lived or played is the high that comes only from making music. It’s happened in the Festival Hall, in French cathedrals, in church halls in Croydon, in pubs in Deptford and in my living room. And even occasionally in the bedroom. If others share that pleasure as they listen or dance, then so much the better.

We’re working with a new, yet familiar Shave sound. As far as the band goes, my prophecy is that this is a chance to be part of some music making to be proud of.…oh, and have a few laughs along the way, too. 

Come to a gig and see what you think.

See you there,

Fran
1st February 2002