Hey,
It's been another one of those weeks — fruitful, fulfilling, and genuinely vibrant. When I sit down to write these I sometimes can't even cast my mind back to Monday, because so much happens that a single week can feel like two. This was one of those. Here's how it all went.
This Week
Wednesday — Windsor & Eton Brewery, Windsor Cracking night. The place was absolutely packed and we had loads of people get up and do the open mic. I couldn't have been happier with how it went — one of those nights that just flies by. Genuinely a highlight of the week.
Thursday — The Horse & Groom, Chobham A last-minute one at the Horse & Groom in Chobham. I've played there once before and it went great, so I was looking forward to getting back. If you don't know it, it's a micro pub — and after a vast room like the brewery the night before, this was the total opposite in every single way. Tiny space, everyone right on top of you. More on that below, because it got me thinking.
Friday — Ashtead Village Club (Debbie's birthday) Down to the Ashtead Village Club for Debbie's birthday. The club's become a real staple of my gig diary now, and this was such good fun — everyone up dancing, a steady stream of requests, and a load of familiar faces, including friends I haven't seen in years. When I'm playing the catch-ups are always brief, but there's something lovely about looking up mid-song and seeing friendly faces while you work.
Saturday — Sam & Nicola's wedding, Bentley Sam and Nicola's wedding over in Bentley. I'll be honest — all week, in the back of my mind, I was worried about this one, because the weather had been atrocious. And then the day came around and nobody could have wished for better. Sun shining from morning to night, a steady breeze keeping everyone cool as they enjoyed it all. An absolutely wonderful day.
In case you don't know how I work a wedding — I tend to cover the whole day. If I'm not singing, I'll press play on the iPad as the bride walks down the aisle and while the couple sign the register. I'll sing acoustic earlier on, then plug into the full system later and sing for everyone to party to. I'm the music guy for the day: I help get the microphone set up for the speeches and make sure it's sounding right, I sort out any issues with the music as they crop up, and when there needs to be a quiet stretch with no music at all, I make the judgement call. Everyone was amazing, and I wish Sam and Nicola all the very best for the future.
Sunday — family, then Windsor As I write this it's Sunday, and I'm about to head out to a run of family events — short and sweet, making the most of a small window to see everyone and be part of a few birthdays — before heading up to Windsor to play at the Duke of Connaught tonight. I already know it's going to be a belter, because it always is, and I know I'll see some really familiar faces and good friends I've made over the years up there. Can't wait.
On My Mind
Thursday's little micro pub got me thinking, so bear with me for a minute.
Wednesday I was in a vast room that was rammed. Thursday I was in a tiny one. Two nights, two completely opposite atmospheres — and honestly, I don't think one is any better or worse than the other. It's never really about the size of the room. It's always about the people in it.
But I'll admit I've got a soft spot for being close to people when I perform. Something changes when there's no distance — when the people there don't just hear you, they can feel you too. I know that might sound a bit woo-woo, and maybe I couldn't have said it to you without all the years and all the gigs behind me. But I genuinely believe it's true. Sometimes there's nothing worse than distance between you and the audience. The bigger the space gets, the further away people end up, even when everyone in the room wants to feel close. In a small place it just works — people genuinely sat right next to you, part of the night rather than watching it. That's the magic of it for me.
In the Classroom
Teaching's been a real joy this week. Anstee Bridge has been going great — though they're off on a school trip this coming week, so I won't be in. No bad thing, really, as it gives me a window to get properly stuck into the online projects I've been building (more on those another time). And MTech is going really well too.
What I'm enjoying most is getting to use the broad musical understanding I've built up over the years — everything from the instruments and the sounds I make, to the role each of those plays within a song, right down to the more technical side: EQ, compression, reverb, and what they're actually doing. Teaching all of that — through my private guitar lessons, Anstee Bridge and MTech — has quietly given me the confidence to know that what I'm teaching genuinely works, and that the way I explain it lands. Some of these ideas are nuanced and properly tricky to get your head around. So if you can get an eight-year-old to even half-understand compression, you know you're doing something right.
The Books
That actually leads me nicely on to the books, because they come from exactly the same place.
First, a bit of a milestone: after some outreach, Hobgoblin Music featured my busking guide in their newsletter. Brilliant news — except I learned a hard lesson, because the link everyone was sent out to was broken. It had been working the day before, and something I'd changed on my website had a knock-on effect I didn't catch. Frustrating doesn't quite cover it. But all was not lost — I still sold five copies of the busking guide off the back of it, and more than the sales, it let me see that this could genuinely work.
Then even better news, in some ways. My Vocal Chain book — it's all about the process of getting clear vocals in a live setting, built around the way I mix but written so that anyone can use it regardless of the desk they're on — sold a copy in America. And here's the bit that got me: I did no outreach for that one at all. Someone out there was looking for exactly that, and they found it. For me that points to something I keep coming back to — the long game. People are always going to be buying mixers, this one in particular, and every other book I've written sits close to these same subjects. Show up consistently and the right people find you.
Which brings me to what I'm writing now. The Vocal Chain has a sister book, and I'm calling it the Acoustic Chain. I've made some serious progress on it, but I'll be honest — I've been really struggling to find good analogies to describe what's actually happening with the equipment and the processes involved. Music signals are difficult to explain because you can't see them, so you lean on visual ideas to make sense of them, and finding the right ones has been tricky. The upside is that wrestling with it has deepened my own understanding of things I thought I already knew inside out. So the book's been working on two levels: making me better at this, and hopefully helping other people along the way.
Because here's the honest truth. I've spent years gigging and doing my own research just to make the best of the sound in a live setting. It's been an ongoing learning curve from the very first gig I ever did. As a musician — not a sound engineer — none of this was ever where my interest really lay. I just wanted to get out, sing, and make a living from it. But it turns out that when you're an independent musician you end up turning your hand to all sorts, and understanding even a few of these key principles can be completely transformative live. That's exactly what I'm trying to pass on.
See you out there, Aaron