20th June 2009 4 de Diciembre @De La Salle Grounds of Beauchief Hall, Sheffield

It was at a practice session one Thursday evening not long ago, that Thom asked if we might play on an occasion for one of his long-time friends. We were in the throes of preparing for Mike's, and it would have been just as convenient to run the same set again two weeks later - the audience profile was going to be similar. The only reservation I had as music director was that we were going to be without Catie, who would be away touring Scotland with her folks; it might have meant preparing a further song for the set, as the others would have been shortened from the lack of her flute solos. Then Jeremy put a question mark over his availability with a potentially clashing family engagement.

That would've normally have put paid to it, since the absence of our melodics section leader (Catie) AND our pianist would have left us with a pretty ginormous mountain to climb. Investigating our options, it transpired that the event was to celebrate the life of someone terminally ill.

That was it. I had to say 'yes' - if you can't music for times like these, you shouldn't be playing music at all.

My mind raced, thinking about what I needed to do on guitar to provide the stream of notes in place of the piano, and the playlist we might offer. It was starting to look as if a 4 de Diciembre-Conjunto Laloma hybrid was the most viable answer and my fretting fingers tingled with dread...

Jeremy, feeling exactly the same way as I did about playing on this occasion, pulled out all the stops and confirmed his place there not a day later. My digits silently thanked him (I admit it. I'm a wuss).

Beauchief Hall: its outbuildings (out of shot) are on the left
Photograph ©Copyright sixxsix. All rights acknowledged.

Beauchief Hall is set in a picturesque part of Sheffield, and it was a gorgeous summer's afternoon when we idled past the 12th Century Beauchief Abbey up the leafy single track to the former outbuildings of the Manor House. When we drew up to unload, the barbecue had already been in full swing for several hours, and the cricketers had just finished and retired to the idyll of the clubhouse. It struck me that this was a most surreal setting for some blazin' Afro-Cuban tunes, and El Diablito inside me looked gleefully to launching a fervent Caribbean assault on this very picture of English gentility. The Caribs were, reputedly, a bunch of marauding boat-pushing cannibals...

I kept that image in mind.

Not long after we'd set up finished setting up, Thom appeared ruddy-faced from his exertions at another festival in Heeley. Again like at Mike's party, we shared the billing with another band but this time we elected to go first: Thom wasn't sure how much longer he could last, and Mike and I wanted the time afterwards to mill about and enjoy the rest of the evening's entertainments.

Jeremy, not content with playing on his Roland, singing vocals, and tapping pulse and clave, gets greedy and takes on the acoustic piano as well. Bonkers!

We played well, but I still felt a shade disappointed that we didn't quite have the same lustre of our best performances: maybe because both gluttons-for-punishment Whib and Thom had separately played gigs just hours earlier, probably because Catie's sure hand was missing. I look upon it as an opportunity to rampage missed. Nonetheless, the packed clubhouse was gobbling up the salsa invasion of their quaint little barbecue. If only I'd had some dancing girls handy...

When the final strains of montuno died away, the Guest of Honour spoke, thanking the hundred plus souls present for being there to celebrate, saying how flattered he had been by everyone's efforts, apologising for his retirement because of his ebbing energy, and wishing all a wonderful remainder of the evening. A poignant moment. It took a lot out of him to stay until the end of our set; I saw it in him, in his wheelchair, even as I sang.

The party picked up again with the blues band that followed. And they were good! Well they should be, given that many of them were old bandmates of Thom's. Munching on a much deserved hot dog, I distracted the pianist and rhythm guitarist as best I could from outside a window - all the musicians I know like a bit of levity when they're playing (apart from tango that is, where a pained expression is de rigueur). It was a real hoot.

The evening ended over a curry flavoured with satisfaction and a dusting of sobriety. Salsa might be for dancing but music, at least for tonight, was for living.

Loo Yen


Epilogue (dated 16th July 2009)
I heard today from Thom that the person for whom we performed passed away the following week. We're honoured to have been the last band he saw. This is to the memory of dedicated youth worker and Champion of their rights, Tom Collins.