The Paul Richards Disasters

With the current solo show reasonably close to being nailed (the material is tried and tested now, I've performed it fully a few times - it just needs a bit more of a run live before I can start to enjoy it properly), the timing of an offer of a second fringe show was perfect. The offer - for just week 1 at a nice venue with a daily performance time of 7.30pm, works well because I'll off stage by 5.45pm with Getting Lost In My Hometown so I'll have a little time for a quick bite to eat before hitting the stage again. With the solo show running for all 3 weeks without a day off, on accepting the offer I decided that this new show shouldn't be another solo piece and it would be nice to have a little team with me for this one. If I have two shows at the same festival they should be very different, and of course it's nice and healthy to work with other people.

The show, The Paul Richards Disasters, will be more of a sitcom on stage. The plan was to write four episodes of a sitcom of the same name, film them throughout June for a YouTube series, release them in July, and then perform a stage show with the best bits of them, re-written for live performance. The only problem is, I've now written all four episodes and these won't work on stage. I'm really excited about them; they're incredibly adventurous, fast, very physical. They're going to be a bugger to film but I can't wait to get started (I'll have Abi, Hind and Izzy joining me for these episodes) and get them out there - this is the sitcom I've wanted to write in years. But this won't work on stage. As a format, it just won't. So suddenly I need to write a whole new show, with a similar theme, and with the same name, but it will be quite different. Not quite what I had planned then, but I feel fiery at the moment - creatively so at least, I've written 8 sitcom episodes in 14 days, this can be done, and done well I hope.

I turn 33 tomorrow. I think the reason why I've been writing so much recently is because I feel a touch uncomfortable about things at the moment. Birthdays are always a time to measure achievements, success, and I'm really on the right track, things are happening. I'm uncomfortable due to family illness, about to be unemployed by the day job, having to look for a new place to live soon etc - the usual. But there's plenty to be excited about...the positives by far outweigh the negatives.

As a drummer we've enjoyed a little success with our World Cup track, Roy, which has received plenty of airplay (including Radio 5 Live yesterday) and we'll even be on BBC TV next week with it. Fred's House are continuing to storm every gig they play and it's a joy to be involved (even in Peterborough, and as we all know - it's virtually impossible to have fun in Peterborough), Dowsing is creeping back up again and the band rehearsals have been such fun - making music with Andrea, Gav and Sam is so easy, and in a couple weeks time I start recording a Christmas album with Grace Williams. As a writer I've had a scary amount of interest for my debut novel, the first series of Emily & Michael is being screened in Michigan in November (we started filming the second series this week, it's a cracker) and the stage stuff is, slowly, working itself out.

So yep, Paul Richards: 33; still addicted to Red Bull and Facebook, still talks too much in situations where quiet is probably needed, but knows how to hit some drums and write a show. Mustn't grumble, really.

All I've got is awkward

I have to say, despite typically getting lost (standard) to the venue (road closure, then accidently driving to Ely, and then being stuck behind a very slow lorry, and then a tractor, and then a learner driver), the show in Norfolk started to see the solo show work quite well. The locals were nice, I was a bit jumpy at times but they stuck with it and I could feel this one starting to work. Thank god for that, I was getting a bit worried.

The show on Saturday was the one I was very worried about; a huge venue, for charity, 100 tickets sold. The first time I've ever had to use a microphone for comedy, and again people were expecting conventional stand-up. That probably involves telling jokes or something, I don't really do those. I enjoyed the microphone a bit too much, I enjoyed making noises down it. I'm not sure if the audience enjoyed it as much as I did, but still - the feedback afterwards was pretty positive. With such a huge audience, who didn't know me (with the exception of Marcus, Leigh, Fiona, my bandmates) I could feel the room being divided - some who perhaps didn't like the odd swear word, others who wanted more. I tried to keep everyone happy, without over analysing the situation because it's tricky being on stage by yourself for an hour anyway without worrying about pleasing people.

After my show, the band played. Being a seated audience we tried to get the audience on our side and ended up in what we call 'covers land' - I personally think it worked quite well. And it's great that the band have the ability and options at shows to change things around if need be. I don't have that as a 'comedian', all I've got is awkward. 5 down, 41 to go.

Lots of positives and negatives in my life at the moment, lots of things stopping me sleeping. Dad is ill, I'm cutting down any commitments until his operation is out of the way, I'm suddenly single again (and very confused by the way it happened), but the Emily & Michael sitcom is suddenly generating a lot of exciting industry interest (in both the UK and US), band-wise things feel great - with Fred's House and Dowsing, my debut book is selling well, and our World Cup single is a winner... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_ZboS7Ah5k&feature=youtu.be

Lost, then

'Lost, then' is the opening slide/image to my solo show, but that shouldn't give away too much of the plot if you're planning on seeing it. You'll probably know from the title it's about getting lost, obviously there's a fair bit more to it than that, but - almost as if I'm being faithful to the title, I've had real issues finding all three of the venues I've performed at so far. The run of shows has been staggered, as it will be for the rest of the year, to fit around other commitments, but by early November I would have performed it 46 times which isn't a bad run, as much as part of me still thinks it's not enough. There's still talks with other venues too, mostly for October, but by then my head will very much be wrapped up in all things Christmas show. The first few 'proper' performances have taken place over the last week and, as always, I've come away with a lot to think about.

The final preview/lounge show around Izzy's was a cracker - it was a relief if anything that it came together so well. And don't get me wrong; everybody that has seen the show so far seems to have enjoyed it (unless they were pretending) but it's fair to say I'm hardly storming it.

I walked on stage in Leeds last night - nice big performance space, and it suddenly occurred to me: shit, I'm a stand-up comedian. How did this happen? This wasn't really the plan. This is theatre. Theatre which has, thanks to the whole going solo thing (cost effective/it's better to fall out with myself rather than drag other people into my artistic tantrums) merged into storytelling comedy, which in return has been billed in quite a lot of places as just 'comedy', which suddenly makes people think I'm a stand-up. It's a simple chain, I understand how this has happened, but suddenly the expectations have changed a bit, and so has my performance. Last night I was even pacing around the stage like stand-up comedians do. I never used to do that. There's jokes in this show, of course there is, but it's all to build the story. Either way, it has taken me a few days to realise what has happened.

The signs were there a couple days before when I checked in to my hotel just before the Liverpool performance.

Receptionist: So, are you here on business?
Me: Kind of.
Receptionist: Golf?
Me: No. I'm a performer.
Receptionist: Performer? What sort of performer?
Me: It's a comedy...play thing.
Receptionist: Where's the rest of your cast?
Me: It's a solo show.
Receptionist: So you're a comedian?
Me: Definitely not.
Receptionist: So you're an actor then?
Me: I don't think so. I'm just...anyway, what time is breakfast?

The opening performance in Halesworth felt particularly strange. They're such a lovely bunch there, and I always (well, both times I've been there) get treated so well by both the audience and staff. The food is lovely, the vibe is friendly, but when I didn't get the first laugh, where I thought it should be, I panicked slightly. How arrogant am I to assume that they, or anybody, will find anything I say funny? Let alone one specific ice breaker. I had them on side shortly after, but by then I was in garbling mode, rushing through the show like some nervous, panicky amateur. I left the stage furious with myself, all of this work I'd put into my performance to produce an energetic but equally coherent and confident show lost in an instant. It's the first show, these things happen, but the 2 hour drive home felt horrible.

Having spent 5 hours getting to Liverpool the next day I was fired up by the traffic issues and frustrations finding the venue; I was annoyed enough to give a pleasantly shouty performance yet tired enough to do it as a pace people would understand. When I got to the venue the audience was so small (2) I got offered money by the venue not to do the show, but I did it anyway. Better performance that time but difficult, you know, to get a vibe going in that kind of environment. Back in my hotel by 9pm that night; a Friday night spent in a single room in Southport with a Ginsters slice, a can of Carling and a television with a bad reception, I already started to realise that touring solo is a test of character.

Leeds last night felt better; big room and relatively small turnout but it was progress, performance edgy but not as edgy as it has been, gradually it's coming together. It's weird; when I've driven home after a great gig with the band I usually can't sleep for hours, the adrenaline is still buzzing around my body. After doing one of these shows I get home and I'm exhausted and ready for bed; clearly being on stage for somewhere between 50-70 minutes, completely alone, is a good workout, mentally.

Anyway, 3 down, 43 to go.

Cardiff, Bracknell, Cambridge, Market Harborough

The final batch of Bonnie & Clyde promo dates found us heading south again, firstly with a show at the Millennium Centre in Cardiff. Long drive, that one, not helped by the Bank Holiday traffic, as soon as we got there we were straight into soundchecks and then onstage shortly after. Decent show; good audience including lots of tourists, nice big stage so we could stretch out a bit, great sound onstage (and off it, we hope, obviously), I like it when we can be fully loud and electric. Fantastic to catch up with my old mate Tracy before/after the gig too, been far too long. A quick drive through the valleys and we found ourselves in Ebbw Vale, where we stayed with Griff and Gaf's parents - we ate well and the banter was rich, lovely evening.

Following a substantial breakfast we made our way to Swindon to hang out a bit/kill some time (note to self: don't bother trying to kill time in Swindon in the future, there's nothing to do in Swindon apart from a generic shopping centre). My car momentarily had a few troubles - an odd noise, a little steam, but after a couple minutes it drove beautifully (well, it drove) as normal. I don't understand cars, but happy that this little banger is still just about getting me to places. Bracknell that evening; nice arts centre and we were performing in the cellar where many great comedians had previously graced (notably Tim Vine) but also serves perfectly well as a folk venue. I was a bit worried how loud my drums would be in what was quite an intimate space but it was a nice controlled set in front of a very enthusiastic audience. At a majority of our shows we play we have people we know in the audience - we're building a nice little following around the country - but for Bracknell it was a completely neutral crowd so it was especially satisfying to win them over so comfortably.

The Cambridge launch show was always going to be a bit special. Having dashed around the country a bit this year it was finally a chance to play in front of our very loyal following. The result was a completely sold-out, sweaty show (it looked uncomfortably busy in that audience) and a storming gig - it felt bigger and louder than normal but we were all the better for it. Homecoming shows are always a tricky beast because expectations are just a little bit higher, but we more than got away with it.

The final show of the tour found us in Market Harborough yesterday afternoon. A slightly surreal early show (that lasted more than 2 hours) in an unconventional space, we played to another busy room and left feeling jolly. I like Market Harborough very much - it's not very often you turn up to a venue to be given a full cooked breakfast, and they also gave us beer to take home with us. All in all, an easy but perfect way to end the tour.

Although the tour itself is over things never seem to stop with this band - we have another BBC session tomorrow night, and then I'm buggering off for a few days to do the solo show properly for the first time (first run of shows in Halesworth, Liverpool, Leeds, Norfolk, Godmanchester) before band stuff kicks in again...no rest then, but where's the fun in resting?

Leicester, Thriplow, Bishop's Stortford, Finedon, Milton Keynes, BBC

I was so tired yesterday afternoon I fell asleep in the studio. Dribble and everything. But it was a positive tiredness, the tiredness of achievement. Gigging/recording is quite easy you know - being on stage is a thrill, being on stage with some of your favourite people/musicians is the easiest thing in the world. The tiredness seems to be coming from the endless waiting around...sometimes it can be four hours between soundchecks and stage times (a situation that can be rectified by board games, because we're so incredibly rock 'n' roll). And touring whilst having day jobs, of course, and the excessive amount of driving (shouldn't always be excessive but my sat-nav is somewhat indecisive).

Leicester was a tough one. An audience shouldn't always make the gig, but it helps. We played to virtually nobody, after a run of shows playing to good-sized crowds this felt difficult. On the plus side the sound was outstanding, and my chicken burger beforehand was exquisite. Next stop, a day later, was an appearance at a small festival in Thriplow. Effectively busking, and without Gaf, the rest of us (Vix, Griff, Lachy, me) played for an hour or so in front of really friendly people in what was a very friendly little event. I'd played there the day before, guesting with my girlfriend's band, and it's such a jolly festival it was easy to lose any cynicism I confess I may have been feeling prior to the event.

In complete contrast to Leicester, our next indoor show, in Bishop's Stortford, was a sell-out; absolutely rammed. It was so busy we couldn't even watch the other acts ourselves, we had to wait in another room, but that's cool because I had downloaded Football Chairman for my phone which can kill many an hour. The gig felt rowdy, which is always a good thing, it was a late one but a fun one. A day later we were in Finedon for another acoustic show. Acoustic shows are great because they show off the harmonies of the band (and they're bloody good at it) but they kill my hands, especially if I'm not convinced by the way my cajon has been mic'd up so I naturally hit it a bit harder. I felt a bit bruised after the Finedon gig but it was a good show - another sell-out, perhaps a little tired but we went down a storm.

A day later three of the band (Vix, Grif, Lachy) played acoustically for LoveSongwriting and then in the evening all five of us were in Milton Keynes. Best show of the tour, I didn't think the Bedford show could be beaten, but this actually topped it for me. Electric set, it was our show, with an interval, a seated (and nearly sold-out) audience, outstanding soundman, we were treated so well by the venue and we played relaxed, confidently, just one of those nights of genuine connection. The kind of show you wish you recorded for a live album, wonderful evening.

Back late, but up early yesterday morning for a day in the studio. The project is a one-off side-project, but with all of the band involved...sounds confusing? Yep. But it's one of those ideas that develops on long car journeys and eventually ends up in the studio. It was a lengthy day, but it sounds great, the chances are - if our usual PR machine kicks in - you won't be able to avoid it in a couple weeks' time when it's ready.

Last night the evening ended with a BBC Radio Cambridgeshire session on the always lovely Sue Marchant's show. Such a nice hour - their playlist is perfect, Sue knows the band well and the whole thing just felt remarkably easy.

The last few months have been a bit on the busy side, but this nothing compared to what May has to offer. Alongside a few more gigs with the band I'm touring the solo show, including at the end of the run a huge performance in a huge venue which is causing a little concern - after all, my show is very personal, not sure how this will work in front of 400 people but the only way around this is to just shout a little louder and hope for the best. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? I could die on stage but as we all know, dying on stage isn't the same as actually, well, dying, it's just a little knock that will get forgotten about by the next show. It could be the making of me. Perhaps. And I'm also recording a 6 episode cabaret-based comedy with Izzy, it's the kind of show I've been wanting to do for years and I'm happy that she's mad enough to get involved. We've worked together a lot, she knows what she's dealing with here. And then at the end of May there's the big Magpas gig I've organised with Peter, Trev and Kat, that will have magicians, and stand-up, and balloon tricks, and live music and everything.

But that's May, let's get April out of the way first. Remaining gigs for the month are in Cardiff, Bracknell, Cambridge and Market Harborough. By the end of those shows I predict we'll have many stories to tell, the need for a night or two off, and the burning desire to do it all again as soon as possible...

Rugby, Cheltenham, Stroud, Bristol, Norwich, London

Being on tour whilst still doing the whole day job thing; rushed journeys from work, late nights, early mornings, cheap supermarket energy drinks. Road closures, everywhere. I get that it's better to repair the roads in the early hours of the morning as there's less traffic, but this really buggers up the travels of gigging musicians. The feeling of camaraderie when you've played a cracking show where you really, really connect with the audience. The tense silence in the car when perhaps things haven't quite gone to plan. 5 fully-grown adults, in a small car/minibus, sharing the same hopes, ambitions...all with individual insecurities, but all on the same team. Some of my best friends in the world, we can relax around each other, we accept each others' quirks (although Gaf singing 90s power ballads early on a Sunday morning is pushing it a bit).

Leg two of the tour found is in a small village just outside of Rugby on Friday night. We played there twice last year, including a the best New Years Eve ever, and it was a nice gig - an easy gig because the people are so friendly, we felt comfortable, we worked hard because it's a long gig, but in such surroundings we couldn't help but enjoy ourselves. Stayed in the same magical house we stayed in on NYE, drank whiskey and played songs till the early hours. Woke up on a farm, feeling strangely content, and then off to Cheltenham. An hours busking in the town centre - which we really had fun with because the locals were so supportive (and they purchased copies of our albums), and then off to Stroud. Packed venue, nice home cooking, actor Keith Allen in the audience. Professional set, we played admirably I feel, didn't always spark like it has done but you can't make a spark happen, sometimes things just feel 'nice'. We left the show having gone down well but feeling tired and slightly demoralised. A few drinks and banter later and we were fine.

The next morning were off to Bristol. A Sunday, sunny afternoon gig isn't always easy when it comes to generating an atmosphere, it was all very gentle. A few technical issues, a slightly quiet performance, but a really attentive audience to perform to, can't really argue too much. Next gig was Norwich; sell-out show, back to the acoustic set-up (drums cast aside in favour of a cajon and conga), actual genuine buzz in the air. Great gig, that one, unexpected encore, outstanding support acts, happy band. Last night we were in London. I generally hate London gigs; there's just something about them, it never works. They're just so difficult...you can never park anywhere near the venue, you're always made to feel grateful for the opportunity to play. But you have to do them, don't you? Soundcheck was dreadful, the house kit shaky, issues with the guitar/bass sound and the free beer was warm, but the gig wasn't bad...an audience can totally make a show and we had a full one last night, even though it was a struggle with the sound at times it was a joy to play in front of people who are so into it. A lot of them have seen us before but keep coming back, we're building something here, it's working.

We're only 9 gigs in, we're not quite half way, there are many more adventures ahead over the next few weeks. 4 days after the band tour ends I'm on a solo tour, performing Getting Lost In My Hometown - I now have 47 performances of that booked up (having just added 5 dates in Reading). Today my collection of short stories, The Stationery Seller, is released here. It's worth buying for Matt's outstanding artwork alone, and Abi's editing/proofing means there's actually a bit of quality control which is refreshing. Tonight we have a rare night off; it's also the night of the cast/partners premiere of my feature film, The Many Struggles Of Oscar Pike. 2014; you're really, proper, happening.

Quiet gigs, amazing gigs, hitting our stride

After a reasonably dull week of admin for the solo tour (and tweaking the script, plus recording some new material under the title of 'The Paul Richards Notepad' - one of the pieces can be found here), the weekend was pleasantly busy. It was busy from a musical perspective, which was nice because I've been spending too much time in a dark room writing and learning lines over the last few weeks. The Fred's House 'Bonnie & Clyde' tour continued on Friday/Saturday (the dates are initially quite scattered, but kick in properly this week with a good run of shows), Friday's show in a big venue felt odd and empty - I felt we played well, we're well rehearsed (and continually rehearsing/changing things to keep the set fresh) but this can happen sometimes. On Saturday though it was a different gig altogether - playing at the Ent Shed in Bedford, sold out show supporting the wonderful Emily Maguire, it felt like a real high point; the seated audience gave us a standing ovation, there was just a warmth in the room...if the rest of the tour is like the Bedford show we're going to be feeling very good about ourselves indeed. We're hitting our stride, it feels both comfortable and exciting. In between those two shows I played two very strange gigs in different allotments; I've recently started dating a stunning young lady (well, she's 6 months younger than me) who I met at a recent lounge show and I went to watch her brilliant ukulele band play at the 'Big Dig' events - only to find myself drumming for them whilst there, it was brilliant, random fun. I feel happy at the moment, suspiciously so.