STORYTIME - THE DAY I DIDN'T DO MY HOMEWORK

One day, about 2 years ago, I got a phone call, asking if I could play a last-minute gig that same evening at King Tut's Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow. Having never performed there as a solo artist I jumped at the chance.

The gig was supporting the legendary-by-all-accounts Peter Murphy, who was once the frontman of Bauhaus, a highly influential band in the early days of goth-rock. I honestly wasn't familiar with them at all at this point. Not my usual cup of tea, but hey, this was a foot in the door with King Tut's and DF Concerts, so I happily went along with my wee hat on and my acoustic guitar.

When I arrived at the venue, Peter's band were soundchecking, and there was Peter, looking all goth-rocky, singing away and playing his guitar, and actually looking a lot younger than I had expected. After they were done I went up to him, told him it was a pleasure to be playing with him, and generally fake-schmoozing because I felt I should. But he was looking at me like I was a total weirdo and not saying much at all. Then he went away to the green room.

Anyway, I minced my way through my little set of solo country songs, and got a surprisingly good response from the sold-out venue of hard rock fans. I went and had a drink, and then went to watch Peter's band play.

"But wait. Who's that skinny older guy singing and prancing around the stage?" I thought to myself. "Hmm, he must have one of his mates doing a wee guest spot".

Then I asked the girl who was repping the gig, and she says: "That's the guy. That's Peter Murphy"

OHHHH NOOOOO!!! It turns out that although I had done my pre-gig homework to find out who Peter Murphy was, I hadn't actually looked at a picture of him. No wonder the guy I was schmoozing with thought I was a weirdo! His name was MARK! Of course Peter Murphy doesn't soundcheck his own bloody microphone! He's too busy being a brooding bloody legend backstage!

The gig rep just laughed in my face.

STORYTIME - THE DAY I THREW UP ON ANOTHER MAN'S PRIVATE PARTS

Before I was a country singer, I played bass in a band called Ardentjohn. I still do actually, but we don't tend to play much these days.

Back in March 2006, we spent 4 weeks playing a residency in a nightclub in Breuill-Cervinia, an Italian ski resort right on the Swiss border. It was a tough slog. Good times, but 40 gigs in 30 days is a lot for anyone, so when the opportunity for time off came, we generally made the most of it.

Every Wednesday was a 'theme night' at the club, and on our second week there, they hosted a 'ladies night', complete with male strippers. This meant that no guys, including us, were allowed in before midnight, so we got the night off. Hurrah!

I can't remember what the rest of the band did that night, because my chosen course of action was to go to the bar in the hotel next door, get absolutely trashed on dubiously measured vodka red bulls, and try to drunkenly chat up the barmaid, who we will call Nikki. Because that might have been her name.

When Nikki finished her shift, we walked down the mountain into town. Well, she walked anyway. She told me the next day that I spent most of the journey falling over and sliding down the hill on my arse because I couldn't actually stand. We made it to the club, where I immediately abandoned her and attempted to walk back up the mountain to my apartment. It was roughly 1am, and I was completely alone and incapable in sub-zero temperatures and 6 feet of snow. At one point I fell over into the deeper stuff, and initially thought "Ahh, I will just sleep here and go back in the morning". Luckily I realised that I would DEFINITELY DIE if I did that, so I got up and headed home. It must have taken me ages.

When I got back to the apartment, the rest of the band were in bed, so I got into bed but it must have been broken or something because room started to spin. Just then my bandmate Mark got up to go to the toilet. As luck would have it, just as he closed the door I started to feel a wee bit sick...

Thankfully Mark had not locked the door. I barged in, and as I lunged towards the toilet pan, I tried to push Mark out of the way. I failed. I can still hear his words: "EEURGH! AL, YOU JUST GOT SICK ON MY C**K!!!"

Al-tagnan and the 3 busketeers

Yesterday was great. We decided to have a pre-gig practice in the afternoon, but the weather was so incredible that we decided to go busking. I forget how much I like busking. The Meadows Festival was on, so the people were out in force, and they were absolutely loving our little band, to the point where we had a nice little sit-down audience for the 45 minutes or so that we were there. Also, it put a wee £40 quid in the band beer fund.

We headed down to The Voodoo Rooms, and played a cracking set, considering it was our first gig together in 18 months, and only our 2nd band gig ever. A bit ropey in places but all in all, we had a great time, and the other bands on the bill were ace. Big thanks to our pals Miyagi, The Glendale Family, and The Appassionados for making the night so much fun, and thanks to everyone who came out for it. For a Sunday night gig in Edinburgh, you did us proud!