Spirit of Play

There is just the smallest danger that I'm going to get unreasonably excited about this: the Ukulele Festival of Great Britain, the first ever in this country, apparently. It doesn't even begin until June. What's my damn problem?

There are some who just don't like the ukulele (see this most excellent post about uke-fatigue by the one and only John Moore). That's fine by me. It's not for everybody. There are only so many covers of elaborate pop songs boiled to four strummed strings and one wobbly voice that the world can take – ie, one – before the idea becomes just a mite predictable. Or even annoying.

But not as annoying as me when I think I'm making some kind of giant (yet four-stringed) musical leap forward: this happens every time I tune up the electric ukulele (yes, you read that correctly, I own an eleuke; "there's only three in the country!", said the salesman . . .), and plug in every pedal I've got.

Oh yes, what a wonderful innovator I am! What impeccable soundscapes do I double-handedly create!

The last time I used an echo pedal, Wendy and Jonny laughed and pointed at me.

[Exit stephenmcaines, sulking.]