I've been through the desert on a horse with no name,

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, 
It felt good to be out of the rain.
In the desert you can remember your name, 
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain. 
La, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la
La, la, la la la la, la la la, la, la

“Loud Horse” seems a peculiar name- choice for a band, but hey, what do I know? It sounds a bit like a country and western band but they were not of that genre. 

In the very early days there were only the three members, Thaddeus, the lead singer, and Jonah and Newman, who alternated between lead and bass guitar. 

Their debut into the sordid world of rock and roll was, shall we say, a mite premature. The band had been rehearsing underneath my longsuffering (and probably by now deaf) ex-husband’s house, so of course the only neighbours who could conceivably complain about the noise were Newman’s parents and that was hopefully, unlikely.

With an astoundingly massive repertoire of ten songs they recorded a patchy demo tape and to our amazement procured the Holy Grail, a gig! 

They were playing in a dodgy public bar at a derelict hotel which, from what I had gleaned from police reports in the newspaper, was often the scene of unpleasantness. Clearly it was imperative that Scotto and I should attend not only as an appreciative audience, but also as potential bodyguards.

We arrived early, devoured our delectable ham steak and coleslaw counter meals and sashayed into the public bar with great anticipation and excitement. 

The ‘band’ was setting up and I was taken slightly aback at the boys’ selection of wardrobe. Expecting to see the lads attired in grungy jeans and rock and roll t-shirts, it was a surprise to see they had all worn long black trousers and white long sleeved shirts. 

A bit ‘private school boy’ I thought to myself.

The world-weary clientele (all six of them), were unmistakably regulars and they eyed the boys with suspicious skepticism. 

It wasn’t long before the support posse arrived in the guise of Newman’s parents, Thaddeus and Jonah’s dad, Lulu and Padraic, George (Newman’s little brother) and a handful of their uber- conservative looking friends. 

We cheered and applauded them, all the while trying not to look too familiar. When Loudhorse reached the end of their playlist at eight-thirty we devotedly shouted out requests for some of the songs they’d already played.

I don’t think we fooled anyone.

Loudhorse may have increased bar takings by threefold that night, but the staff was fully aware that it was merely the band’s family who had come to see them, not a devoted fan base.

 I’m not going to comment on whether they were good or bad, but I will say that if David Bowie was dead, he would have rolled over in his grave. Maybe it was time for Loudhorse to pull in the reins and graze in the long paddock for a while.