The following is pretty glum, so to cheer you [and me] up: I'm currently making a new collection of songs, focussing on the dulcimer! It's called Songs for the New Folk and you can <a href="http://www" />

Corey Mwamba

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Death Throes of an Instrument

The following is pretty glum, so to cheer you [and me] up: I'm currently making a new collection of songs, focussing on the dulcimer! It's called Songs for the New Folk and you can listen to three preview tracks on Last.fm!

And now... back to the misery.

Yep, it's definitely going. And that's not good. My vibraphone is dying.

Yes, it was dying anyway: but I think the many journeys along many streets have finally taken their toll. One wheel is almost completely buckled in; I've used a large stack of washers to prop up the damping mechanism. It will last a few more gigs, but not with the travelling on top [I don't drive. I always make it. I'm almost always on time or early].

I can't afford a new instrument, and in any case none of the ones around really appeal or fit my purposes [although the portable Yamaha would be practical]: so I'm looking into designing a new frame as I have ideas... but at the moment things look—if not bleak—as if the deforestation may have started.

And in any case, this isn't something I especially want to replace. Even though I was intially conned into having the instrument, it's mine and sounds like me; I don't think I'd ever replace the keys, and the particular rattles and extra tones that are available give me all sorts of choices that you just don't GET with a shiny new yet voiceless instrument like the Musser I played in France. And even though I sound "like me" on any instrument, I just don't... er... sound like me. If you see what I mean. Um.

I remember the first trip we took down to London on the train together and that totally mad time when we couldn't get hold of anyone and ended sleeping in a park [which, y'know, was quite bad, and if I think about it, since my mum reads this, something that I said to myself I'd never mention, but you'll excuse me I'm sure; it's just the grieving process]. Having to defend it from the seemingly endless hordes of stupid people at Kings Cross who thought they could use it as a table. It defending me from a vicious dog [really]. The list of adventures was going to be endless.

But now it isn't.

Still, gig on Sunday..! Something will turn up..!

I think I might go away and sob for a bit, now.

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