Woodchuck

Woodchuck was a band for a few great years. It's final form was as a six-piece playing a noisier version of Fleetwood Mac, kind of, a little. The end line-up was Drew, Amy, Cath, Henri, Chris and Kari. They came, they played, and there was smoke and wine and melody and Haribo. Surprisingly, there was a lot of support for such a badly-named country rock machine living in London in the two-thousands, and all three EPs sold out their print-runs, and there were nice reviews and singles-of-the-week, and lots of lovely people came to gigs, and the band played with a bunch of cool other bands. As a story, it was nothing new, but it was everything fun for a while.

Along the way, many other heroic country rock commandos laid down their life, their licks and god knows their pride in the name of Woodchuck. The unknown soldiers of this particularwar can be seen on the site. The first incarnation was simply Drew and Pete in a studio with Janacazek and some wired old blonde woman who played the wobbly piano. Edith and Jez were the live band for that season, and a joy they were too. Even Jez. The inimitable Adrian was then on drumbos for a while (he nearly died onstage, actual near-death) as the superband created itself, including one stupid mammoth gig as an eight-piece (including a live cellist, called Jill).

But when, eventually, the time came for this family pet to pass, there was some sadness but a lot of nice memories - long walks, slobbering kisses and puppy love. That said, one immutable point remains - Woodchuck the band is dead. So consider this the shoebox buried in the backgarden near the rose bush, and if the children ask, Woodchuck has gone to country rock heaven.

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