We’re delighted to welcome musician and songwriter Rod Clements to the pages of R2. Rod saw considerable chart success with folk-rockers Lindisfarne and currently works as a solo artist, though some of you may have seen him recently in collaboration with American singer-songwriter Rachel Harrington. Whether you’re familiar with his music or not, we trust you’ll enjoy the first of Rod’s regular musings in which you’ll find he’s NICELY OUT OF TUNE I’ve played in many different kinds of venues over the years: from damp basements with cupboard-sized dressing rooms full of redundant speaker cabinets to plush concert halls where liveried flunkeys hover to make sure you don’t put your feet on the sofa, from sagging tents in muddy fields to heated corporate hospitality marquees, and most points in between. During the Lindisfarne years, most gigs tended to be around the middle of that spectrum; since I’ve been independent, I’ve found myself bouncing like a pinball between all kinds of places. People ask me which kinds of gigs I enjoy most, large or small, and sometimes the question carries an implication that I might miss the big venues of the old band’s heyday. I usually reply that playing acoustic roots music, as I mostly do nowadays, I prefer the intimacy of smaller spaces, but I‘m actually happy to play almost anywhere and my enjoyment is not conditional on the size or perceived prestige of the venue. Last summer I did a lengthy tour of the U.K. (and a bit of Europe) as half of a duo with the Seattle-based country-roots singer-songwriter Rachel Harrington. We travelled almost 10,000 miles and played over 50 gigs in all kinds of places, ranging from Perth’s splendid new Concert Hall (where I made my debut as an Elvis impersonator, though that’s another story) to somebody’s front room in a Liverpool suburb. Between those extremes we played arts centres, theatres, folk clubs, hotels, tents, a railway station, a museum, a church and a whisky distillery. Though inevitably some were better than others, I can honestly say I didn’t prefer any particular type of gig over another (the distillery might just have an edge), but rather that the constant variety of venues was one of the things that made the tour fun. So I was quite surprised, when I got home and had a look at YouTube, to find that someone had commented – below a clip of Rachel & me playing in a dingy London cellar – that it was sad to see me reduced to such circumstances. What circumstances, I wondered? The venue? Well, I quite like dingy cellars, though in this case the dinginess was artificial, as this was a recently created designer cellar in a trendy part of town. Was it because I was playing second fiddle to another artist? Glad to be there, especially for someone whose music I like as much as I do Rachel’s, and besides, she took her turn at supporting me too. Was it because I didn’t conform to someone’s picture of how I spend my time: reclining by the pool, cocktail in hand, on the phone to my stockbroker? Tramping the grouse moors with Barbour jacket and shotgun? Churning out ‘Fog On The Tyne’ in some parallel universe where it is forever Christmas at Newcastle City Hall? Or just hiding in decent obscurity, not disturbing anyone’s illusions about what I should or shouldn’t be doing? I can assure you that for various reasons none of those alternatives is open to me, nor holds any appeal compared with the chance of going on the road every so often to play at a bunch of different places to as many new people as possible, either on my own or in the stimulating company of kindred musical spirits. In difficult times for many bigger venues, I’m fortunate to play music that will fit as easily into a small space as a large one, and I welcome the variety this brings to my travels. Watch out, I might turn up at a dingy cellar near you soon.