Rabbit Foot Dispatches: 'Dangerously sober, stood up by a shire horse - but rubbing shoulders with a half-naked hero'

OXFORD jump-blues and vintage-jazz group The Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band have a ferocious reputation as a hard playing - and even harder partying - bunch of musical hedonists.

This summer the dapper seven-piece are on the road, playing music festivals the length and breadth of the country. This is their festival diary....

His third instalment finds frontman Stuart Macbeth and band rubbing shoulders with the great and good at 'Poshstock'

I feel joyous once I've unpopped my tent amid the lush scenery of Cornbury Festival. I’m here for three days to enjoy the likes of Jools Holland, Gipsy Kings and Kid Creole. With competition like this it’s understandable that I’ve put in a week‘s training for the gig. It’s not unusual for me to train before a show. On this occasion however, it’s gotten out of hand.

Let me share the details with you. In the six days leading up to Cornbury I’ve put in 36 miles of running. I’ve been to my local gym so often that the guy at reception looks embarrassed when he sees me. I’ve been on a lethal grapefruit and green tea diet. I’ve had my suit dry cleaned. I’ve even given up smoking. It’s a display of serious dedication and discipline so I arrive backstage feeling pretty good about myself for once - and pull a nice cool can of lager from the fridge. At this point Skippy our drummer leaps out and tears it from my hand.

“Watch it Stuart! Watch it! Just watch it!”

“Sorry ? Watch what?”

“Watch it today Stuart! This is Cornbury! You’ve got to lay off the beer NOW!”.

There is wild, animal panic in his eyes. I just don’t get it. I wonder to myself if I’m missing something. Is my Jay-Z aftershave omitting an ominous whiff of methylated spirits? Skippy goes off to calm down with a Lambert and Butler. The moment he’s out of sight I grab a second can from the fridge.

Next up I see Chuck our baritone sax player running out of a cabin. He has the exact same expression of wild, animal panic in his eyes. He is giving me what we call 'the look'. This is part of an agreement we have that if I ever look like I’m breaking the “two beer rule” he will stare me out in a Scary Dad sort of way.

It later transpires that my friend Ed fancies himself as a bit of a joker. While I was doing vocal exercises in my tent (and marvelling at the cardiovascular bombshell I may yet become) Ed thinks it’s a great laugh to tell the band that I have been wobbling around the campsite with paralytic aplomb. What he hasn’t foreseen however is the amount of freaking out that’s about to take place. By the time me and the guys make it onto the stage you could cut the atmosphere with a plastic camping knife.

Concern about my wayward spirits escalates when I invite a seven year-old girl called Emily up on stage to sing Happy Birthday with us.

Happy returns: Stuart hands the microphone to birthday girl Emily

To me it’s a healthy dose of audience participation. My intention is to make that seven year-old’s party go off with a bang. I’d like to think she’ll look back on this as an old grey haired lady and remember the kindly, eccentric gentlemen who presented her with these 15 minutes of fame.

To my band however it looks like I have officially lost it. It’s in their faces - Stuart has lost it. He is inviting seven year-olds on stage! How was this allowed to happen? Why here? Why today? Why was no-one watching him?

Miraculously it’s a top class performance from the Rabbits. Not once do they realise I am a model of sobriety. Heads still shake as we watch Georgie Fame’s set together later that evening.

Georgie was also on the bill at the Marlborough Jazz Festival last Friday alongside the likes of us, Claire Teal, Darius Brubeck, Sara Spade and Denny Illet Jnr. This is a superb, multi venue festival stretching the length of Marlborough’s historic high street. It’s been a regular feature on the UK jazz scene since the early ‘80s. Crowds of jazz fans stroll the pavements with ales in hand. You hear superb Dixieland spilling from the courtyards.

Stuart with Ashley Fox MEP (!) opening Marlborough Jazz Festival

Georgie was headlining and it was a rare thrill to meet him backstage. He wasn’t wearing a shirt at the time as he was getting changed - enjoying a private moment. This would deter 99 per cent of fans - but not me. After we chat a little about jazz Georgie gets to hear all about the band’s most unusual evening.

It all sounded too good to be true. The seven of us were to line up on a wagon - with cornet, clarinet, trombone, two banjos, double bass and washboard. We’d rehearsed a special set. A pair of Shire Horses would pull us through the streets of Marlborough while well-wishers showered us with applause. We turned up. The horses did not.

The only solution was to stand in the road outside the Conservative Club and play When The Saints Go Marching In for 10 minutes straight. I’m not sure if we made any fans in Marlborough but hopefully we can go back next year and have another bash.

Our final festival show of July was Truck Festival on Saturday. Our charismatic ex-sax player Westy West once observed that as our band get bigger the stages they put us on at Truck get smaller.

“Eventually” he quipped “they’ll put us on in the loo”.

Our venue may have been tiny but the atmosphere was electric. This is what we live for - a rammed room of young indie music fanatics going bonkers for the sounds of British Traditional Jazz.

And until those horses turn up I’m proud to say that life-affirming, thrilling nights like these will keep us coming back for more.

　Read the first instalment of Stuart's festival diary here

　Read the second instalment of Stuart's festival diary here