The ‘Fynn is coalescing. Whether or not we’ll pick up our instruments any time soon is debatable (no sense in killing the goose that laid the golden eggs by releasing new material while the royalties from Calling it a Day are still literally dribbling in. Speaking of which, have you bought the album yet?) but with Doug and Charlie both working in Edinburgh, it’s markedly easier to marshal our forces for the odd trip to the pub.

So it was that Charlie, Doug and I met up at the Grand Ole Opry for King Creosote’s first post-Mercury Award gig. That’s the Grand Ole Opry, Glasgow. And what a godawful venue it is.

On the way in, the stewards directed everyone past a queue snaking all the way from the entrance into the auditorium. What’s this, I wondered? The cloakroom? But no, this was the queue for the bar, ringed as it was by bewhiskered old gents wearing badges emblazoned “Committee” who sent everyone to join the queue all the way back at the front door. Why it was the usual gentle scrum was not permitted to develop I have no idea.

The stage is flanked by two giant embossed cowboy heads like faces on a pair of silver dollars. That would be weird enough, but their ten-gallon hats are so disproportionately small that it appear that the upper portions of their skulls have been removed and their hats balanced delicately on the resultant flat surface. I spent the gig trying (and failing) not to look at them, sort of like a car crash on the opposite carriageway of a motorway.

Then, to round things off, the “Committee” saw fit to allow in (without tickets, I’m pretty sure) a load of knuckle-dragging regulars who stood at the back and talked loudly about how the music was pish, and why didn’t they fuckin play something that aw cunt kent. They spoke like James Kelman writes, only informed by aimless vitriol instead of wry social commentary.

The evening’s saving grace was that the music was, in general, pretty good. King Creosote was a chatty and witty host, deploying some in-song mockery to quieten a couple of overly vocal hecklers at the front, and keeping the real fans rapt throughout. Have a listen!

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Chris, Leyla & Scarlet are visiting at the moment. Coba Fynn coalesces across time and space. Tremendous!