I'm woken by mum kissing me on my forehead. I feel like I'm ten years old again. It's a warm, safe feeling.
I'm so tired right now. It's been a fun few weeks but I'm really getting to the point where it feels like it's time to go home. Fuck knows how I used to handle months on the road at a time with Speedhorn? I guess that was ten years ago and I was indestructable then, or so I thought. Three weeks in the van is more than enough these days.
We have a busy day ahead. I force myself out of bed and into the shower, grab some quick breakfast and a cup of tea. It's always tea when I'm home, coffee the rest of the time. Anyway, we sit around for a half hour before heading off. I wave goodbye to mum and we're back on the road.
We have to stop by the Marshall factory to get my amp fixed. Typical really. I buy the amp from Jon before the tour, it breaks right before the first show and now I'll have it fixed when there's only four shows left. We drop the amp off with the good people at Marshall and grab some lunch at Ikea whilst we wait. It almost feels like we're home. Jon wonders if he can order his food in Swedish...
After an hour we head back and pick up the amp. It turns out it was the valves that had blown on it. They can blow at anytime really, just one of those things. The other guys take a walk around looking at all the old artist photos, framed and hanging on the wall. I think there is one of Speedhorn somewhere... I get the amp fixed super cheap anyway, so I'm happy about that. Johan gets his photo taken in front of the new Lemmy signature amp, so he's happy about that.
We get into London and weave our way through traffic, pulling up to the venue in good time. The Waste guys are here already. They had the day off in London yesterday. They went to see St. Vitus play at the Academy, lucky bastards. I guess we had a great show in Boston though, so I'm not that bummed. We load in just as the Waste guys are soundchecking. They're all childlike happy today. I think they missed us. We hang out chatting for a while backstage. Ryan is unsually talkative today. He's most likely still buzzing about the fact that after the Vitus show last night, he got to hang out with Wino.
It's great to see the guys again anyway. It's funny how one day on tour can seem so long. The intense family vibe you build on tour is like no other relationship I've ever known. You hang out with these friends every minute of the day for a few weeks and at times it feels like it's the touring party against the rest of the world, and no one else matters a shit. And then the tour ends, you part ways and normal life and feelings resume. I can't really explain it through the haze of tiredness I'm feeling right now, but most people who have toured a few times would know exactly what I mean.
Soundcheck today is an utter pain in the bollocks. It seems to take forever. The girl doing our sound seems to be a bit insecure, as does the guy doing the monitors. For a start, she won't let us have our amps loud enough to get the sound we play with, out of them. She's terrified of any volume coming off the stage. The monitor guy can't get any sort of decent sound either, everything just sounds like fizz. On top of that, Jon's mic keeps giving him shocks. It takes us an hour or so to find out the source of what's causing this, during which time Jon shocks himself four times. Hillarious! They tell him to wait while they sort it out, yet every now and again, he attempts to sing into it, only to reel backwards holding his mouth, looking, well.. shocked. This provides the rest of us with great ammusement, despite the boredom of standing around on a freezing cold stage.
As we were trying different options, trying to find the source of this shock, we had plugged Jon into Ryan's amp, to test the alternatives.. Jon blasts his guitar and the sound girl screams in panic, ”Turn it down!”. I have to explain to her that this is Waste's amp, and there is no way we are fucking with the settings on it. She looks truly baffled by everything. I know then, our show is as good as fucked tonight.
It's funny to see Johan telling the people working this stage exactly how to do their jobs, holding their hands through the process. Johan is a great sound technician and I can see the two who are working this stage looking embarrased a couple of times as Johan has to tell them what to do. We finally struggle through to the end of souncheck. I politely say thank you to the in house stage people, knowing fine well the sound tonight is going to be fucking shit!
We should have thrown Lewis some money to do our sound tonight. He has Municipal's amps blasting off the stage and it doesn't seem to be a problem, yet our amps are barely turned on. God knows what the sound girl would have done if she had been forced to take care of Waste's sound.
The bigger London shows always make me uncomfortable. I think it goes back to the days of when Speedhorn were headlining these venues. It was always so much hassle with everything. There are always a hundred people you barely know, who crawl out of the woodwork and want guest lists. The tiny dressing rooms are always filled with industry schmoozers. Being forced to hang around so many industry people, blowing smoke up your arse, always made me uncomfortable.
The guest list tonight has about seventy people on it. Surprise surprise. Thanks to Lewis, we manage to get some of our friends in to the show on the list anyway. The Regimes guys come down, as does Dave, my friend and former manager with Speedhorn. It's good to see the guys, albeit for a short while. We were supposed to be staying at Bloody Kev's tonight, but we figure it will take just as long to drive through the city to his place after the show as it would to drive to Dover, where our 9am ferry to Calais awaits. We decide on a Dover hotel.
I quickly say hello to the Regimes guys before I have to rush to the stage to set up. I get a surprise when I'm sorting my gear out. The band playing before us tonight was Gentlemen's Pistols. They are a really good, 70's blues rock kind of band. The Waste guys were buzzing about it since Bill Steer was the guitarist in the band. Of course, I loved Carcass when I was a kid like everyone else, and Steer came across as a really nice guy earlier on in the dressing room. The surprise I get as we're setting up, is that the guy playing guitar and singing in Pistols, and fuck me could he sing, is The Horror guitarist Atko! He's got a full beard and looks like he's come straight from the set of That 70's show. He says hello to me as I'm plugging in and I look at him and then, ”Atko?!” ”What the fuck?!” I didn't even recognise him. I'm chuffed though.
Anyway, we get on with the gig and the sound does indeed suck. I can tell it does out on the floor too. The gig feels like an uphill battle, even though we give it our best. Strings snap, the stage is big and it feels empty tonight. I remember when we played here with Speedhorn it was a weird gig. I've had reservations about this venue since the start of the tour. Talk about one extreme to the other. Last night's show could not have been any different. Or better. The one really fun thing about the show tonight, is that at times Dave is throwing fruit at Andy, hidden behind Jon's amp looking really cheeky. And then Tony runs on stage and starts skipping rope in the middle of the gig. Johan stood right in front of him, doesn't even notice.
The end of the gig comes as a relief. It's a shame, but it's too often been the case at these big London shows. I guess Victims isn't really a big stage band. There were at least quite a few crust punks in the crowd who seemed to enjoy it though. That's the main thing I guess.
We load of stage and I dry myself down before heading down to the merch area. Ronnie seems to be doing good business anyway, so we're still making money. I meet up with Dave and Kev and they tell me straight away the sound was weird. I of course knew that, but that confirmed it. I get it out my system pretty quick. We catch up on the Regimes stuff and the other stuff Kev and the boys are getting up to. I hang out with Bianchi for the most part. He's always got lots to chirp about and it's hard to get a word in sometimes, but he's always good fun to hang around. We had some great times taking care of Speedhorn.
The last time I hung out with Dave was in Stockholm when he was there on business.
He'd been invited over with a first class trip by the people who manage the band Moneybother. Put up in a top hotel in town, he's not one to snub a free trip abroad, although he had no idea what the people paying for the trip wanted from him. He invited me along, tempting me with a night out on the town paid for by his company credit card. A weird night ensued thereafter. We went to the show, met the band, met the people and then twelve hours later I woke up next to Dave in his hotel bed. Jen apparently had finally gotten me to answer my phone after numerous attempts. It was 6am and she was obviously worried that I hadn't came home last night as planned. I apparently told her it was only Dave I was in bed with and then passed the phone to him. Weird, weird night.
One thing I didn't know about that night until Dave filled me in tonight, was that I had also taken a piss on his hotel room curtains and then spent a few hours in bed drunkenly cuddling him. Haha! Booze is evil sometimes. We had been drinking together, rather rapidly, for about ten hours though. It's wasn't the first time we'd been that hammered together, it probably won't be the last.
As Dave was recounting this story to me, he was once again buying me drinks. He insisted that we all drink shots together, to which I replied, ”Dave, let's not go down this road again...”. He just laughed at me and paid for the tequila shots. I manage to put a stop to it after the second. I'm starting to feel drunk though.
Since we've decided to drive on to Dover and get a hotel room for the night, Dave, Kev and the guys head off pretty early and carry on their piss up at another pub. I say goodbye to them and head backstage, where I end up hanging out with Dave for a while, who is drinking an extremely good stout that he happily shares with me. I'm going to miss the Waste guys.
We load out the gear a while later and drive towards Dover. We're all a bit tipsy and we decide we're going to have a van party, to help keep Ronnie awake. What a bunch of mates we are! I want to play the second Sounds album, but Andy gets angry at the idea. Bloody music facist! I try to explain that it's an amazing party record but he's having none of it. We settle on From Ashes Rise.
About thirty minutes into the drive I can hardly keep my eyes open. We find a hotel next to the harbour and I go to bed feeling like shit. Tomorrow is another long day. I'm really starting to long for my own bed now. Two days left, three shows to play.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Boston
I woke up today minus yesterday's hangover but still feeling pretty worn down. The end of the tour is in sight and my mind is starting to drift towards the comforts of home. My own shower, my sofa, my bed, my records and of course Jenny and Bonzo. The last time I managed to get eight hours sleep in one night seems like a long time ago.
At least this morning we were in no stress to get going. We are playing our own show in Boston tonight, which is only a couple of hours drive from York, so we're good. I feel really tired this morning. I could have easily lay in bed at Snitch's all day long, watching the Family Guy dvd's we fell asleep to last night.
I get up and try to shower away the sleep. It works somewhat. After hanging out on Snitch's sofa drinking tea for an hour or so, we get our stuff together and drive in to York city centre. I was a little worried how we had left the van last night, since we'd had no choice but to leave it in a deserted street away from the apartment. You can't get a van down the narrow street Snitch lives on. Last time we were here with Speedhorn, John slept in the van and guarded the gear. But that was good old Betty, which at least had beds inside her. No one was in the mood to sleep in our freezing cold van last night! Thankfully the van was fine.
We head to the pub where Snitch works to get a bite to eat. I insist that Jon orders the same as I'm eating, which is the giant Yorkshire Pudding with sausage and mash with gravy. He takes it and is chuffed when it turns up. It's absolutely huge and delicious. Andy complains that it looks digusting. He has no idea what he's missing out on. I guess British cuisine isn't always for everyone.
After finishing off lunch, we all slouch in our chairs, completely stuffed. I think I could easily have fallen asleep, right there and then. I order some strong, black coffee in hope of reviving me. It kinda works.
It's soon time to say goodbye to Snitch. I guess it's going to be a while until I see him again since he's studying and doesn't have the money to spend on flights to Sweden. He talks about coming over for Midsummers, I hope he can. We say our goodbyes and drive off in the diredtion of Boston. It's a grey, miserable day. I'm starting to feel done with winter for this year. I heard yesterday that it was -22 degrees at home. I think I'm going to hibernate when I get back, until spring arrives.
We make the drive down to Boston in just over two hours. After today everything is going to start getting a little tougher again, as far as driving goes. If it's true that you don't get the same star treatement in the UK as you do on the mainland, it's also true that the drives are a lot kinder. Municipal are already in London having a day off, we'll be meeting up with them again tomorrow. Tonight we're playing a classic hardcore venue in a room at the Indian Queen pub in Boston. This place has seen some classic nights. Even Municipal played here on their first UK tour.
Tonight we're playing with our friend Luke's band, Burning the Prospect. It's their last ever show so it should be a bit special. Another friend of mine, Chris, is also here playing tonight. His band Jesus of Spazzareth is opening up. It's their last show aswell. And then there is Wolfbeast Destroyer, who are members of Prospect and a classic UKHC band called Urko. Tonight is going to be a lot of fun, if not a bit emotional.
Before we drive into town and to the venue, we meet up at an address Luke has given us, where we're going to be fed. It's a cottage in the middle of nowhere, which is a summer house that his parents rent out to paying customers. The idea originally was for us to sleep here tonight, but since I have to get my amp fixed at Marshall tomorrow, we're driving back to my parents house, which is a lot closer to the Marshall factory. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow. I was supposed to be taking the train from Boston to London in the morning to get tattooed from Marcus Regimes, but I had to blow that off because of my fucking amp too. Still pissed off about that.
Anyway, we somehow manage to force some more food down us courtesy of Luke. Most of us are still completey stuffed from the lunch in York a couple of hours ago, but we all make a good effort with the baked potatoes, cheese and beans Luke has laid out. A free meal is never to be blown off.
We sit there for a half hour or so, drink a beer, and then drive into town, following Luke's car through the dark, winding country roads into Boston town centre. It's snowing when we get to the venue, so loading out is a pain in the arse. We get the gear in as soon as possible, through the pub and up some steep, narrow stairs. Why is there always stairs?!
The gig tonight is insane! The room is tiny. Eighty people would easily pack it out. The show is on the floor of course, with the drums and the rest of the backline on a small stage. I have a great time watching Spazzareth play. There are plenty of kids here and they are all having a lot of fun. Chris is always fun to watch on stage, he's always full of good cracks between songs. It's too bad they are spiltting up, but Chris tells me afterwards that most of the guys in the band are starting something new together.
I'm not sure how but I miss Wolfbeast Destroyer. They must have played a very short set whilst I was downstairs in the pub drinking coffee. Andy tells me later they were great. Typical. I'm told there is a chance they might be playing Punk Illegal with us later on in the year in Göteborg, so maybe I'll get the chance to see them then.
There is no way I'm missing the Burning the Prospect gig tonight though. They play an absolutely immense show. The crowd is going wild for them, the singer spends most of his time in the air being held aloft, or jumping up and down like a madman. It's such a great show, and I'm dying to get on stage when they are done. The crowd are singing along to their songs and it's truly an awesome send off for them. The atmosphere is buzzing as I stand on a chair, watching over the crowd and loving every second of their set.
As we're setting our gear up, it seems most of the crowd have fled outside to get some air. We take a while getting our sound going but it still seems pretty empty in the room that was packed full when Prospect were playing. I suddenly fear an anti-climax to the night. Maybe everyone was here to see Prospect, they are from Boston afterall. Fears are soon erradicated when we start to make some proper noise. By the time Johan announces, ”Hi, we're Victims from Sweden”, the room is once again packed.
In fact, there is hardly any room for us to stand. People are completely on top of us. We start the set with Scars as usual. The room erupts. We're not playing in front of the crowd, we're playing in it. We're not even three songs on when Johan gets a glass thrown at him, hitting him square in the head. I don't think it was intentional on this occasion though. He seems to be ok and we get on with things. During almost every song the mic stands are getting ripped down by the surging crowd in front of us. People are grabbing hold of it and screaming along to the songs. At different points during the set both Jon and myself are picked up by the crowd and thrown around on people's shoulders and hands, the whole time trying to continue to play.
We play This is the End and the whole place goes mad. The atmosphere is amazing. Johan doesn't even get near his mic come chorus time, it gets completely taken over by the crowd. People are jumping off the small stage where Andy is playing his drums. At one point ten or so people build a human pyramid, right in front of Johan. I've never seen anything like it. They are built up on top of each other, all screaming mad yet somehow choriographed. They hold out for about ten seconds before the whole thing collapses down on to Johan's feet. As we're playing Victims in Blood pt. 5, during the breakdown part of the song, another bunch of kids are sitting on the floor in front of Jon, air rowing togehter, It's absolutely hillarious. It's the most fun I've had playing a show in a long time.
We play a couple of extra songs before finally finishing up the show. Afterwards we hang out for a while chatting to Luke and Chris and the other guys, we sell a shit load of merch and swap some stuff with the other bands. As much as the Waste shows have been amazing for us, a band like Victims needs these shows too. This is where we come from. After a few last goodbyes, we wash down a quick Newcastle Brown Ale before we start packing out the gear. The snow has stopped now.
We head back to Corby through dark country roads, finally getting back to my parents house around 2am. I get into that old cosy bed and fall asleep barely a second after my head hits the pillow.
At least this morning we were in no stress to get going. We are playing our own show in Boston tonight, which is only a couple of hours drive from York, so we're good. I feel really tired this morning. I could have easily lay in bed at Snitch's all day long, watching the Family Guy dvd's we fell asleep to last night.
I get up and try to shower away the sleep. It works somewhat. After hanging out on Snitch's sofa drinking tea for an hour or so, we get our stuff together and drive in to York city centre. I was a little worried how we had left the van last night, since we'd had no choice but to leave it in a deserted street away from the apartment. You can't get a van down the narrow street Snitch lives on. Last time we were here with Speedhorn, John slept in the van and guarded the gear. But that was good old Betty, which at least had beds inside her. No one was in the mood to sleep in our freezing cold van last night! Thankfully the van was fine.
We head to the pub where Snitch works to get a bite to eat. I insist that Jon orders the same as I'm eating, which is the giant Yorkshire Pudding with sausage and mash with gravy. He takes it and is chuffed when it turns up. It's absolutely huge and delicious. Andy complains that it looks digusting. He has no idea what he's missing out on. I guess British cuisine isn't always for everyone.
After finishing off lunch, we all slouch in our chairs, completely stuffed. I think I could easily have fallen asleep, right there and then. I order some strong, black coffee in hope of reviving me. It kinda works.
It's soon time to say goodbye to Snitch. I guess it's going to be a while until I see him again since he's studying and doesn't have the money to spend on flights to Sweden. He talks about coming over for Midsummers, I hope he can. We say our goodbyes and drive off in the diredtion of Boston. It's a grey, miserable day. I'm starting to feel done with winter for this year. I heard yesterday that it was -22 degrees at home. I think I'm going to hibernate when I get back, until spring arrives.
We make the drive down to Boston in just over two hours. After today everything is going to start getting a little tougher again, as far as driving goes. If it's true that you don't get the same star treatement in the UK as you do on the mainland, it's also true that the drives are a lot kinder. Municipal are already in London having a day off, we'll be meeting up with them again tomorrow. Tonight we're playing a classic hardcore venue in a room at the Indian Queen pub in Boston. This place has seen some classic nights. Even Municipal played here on their first UK tour.
Tonight we're playing with our friend Luke's band, Burning the Prospect. It's their last ever show so it should be a bit special. Another friend of mine, Chris, is also here playing tonight. His band Jesus of Spazzareth is opening up. It's their last show aswell. And then there is Wolfbeast Destroyer, who are members of Prospect and a classic UKHC band called Urko. Tonight is going to be a lot of fun, if not a bit emotional.
Before we drive into town and to the venue, we meet up at an address Luke has given us, where we're going to be fed. It's a cottage in the middle of nowhere, which is a summer house that his parents rent out to paying customers. The idea originally was for us to sleep here tonight, but since I have to get my amp fixed at Marshall tomorrow, we're driving back to my parents house, which is a lot closer to the Marshall factory. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow. I was supposed to be taking the train from Boston to London in the morning to get tattooed from Marcus Regimes, but I had to blow that off because of my fucking amp too. Still pissed off about that.
Anyway, we somehow manage to force some more food down us courtesy of Luke. Most of us are still completey stuffed from the lunch in York a couple of hours ago, but we all make a good effort with the baked potatoes, cheese and beans Luke has laid out. A free meal is never to be blown off.
We sit there for a half hour or so, drink a beer, and then drive into town, following Luke's car through the dark, winding country roads into Boston town centre. It's snowing when we get to the venue, so loading out is a pain in the arse. We get the gear in as soon as possible, through the pub and up some steep, narrow stairs. Why is there always stairs?!
The gig tonight is insane! The room is tiny. Eighty people would easily pack it out. The show is on the floor of course, with the drums and the rest of the backline on a small stage. I have a great time watching Spazzareth play. There are plenty of kids here and they are all having a lot of fun. Chris is always fun to watch on stage, he's always full of good cracks between songs. It's too bad they are spiltting up, but Chris tells me afterwards that most of the guys in the band are starting something new together.
I'm not sure how but I miss Wolfbeast Destroyer. They must have played a very short set whilst I was downstairs in the pub drinking coffee. Andy tells me later they were great. Typical. I'm told there is a chance they might be playing Punk Illegal with us later on in the year in Göteborg, so maybe I'll get the chance to see them then.
There is no way I'm missing the Burning the Prospect gig tonight though. They play an absolutely immense show. The crowd is going wild for them, the singer spends most of his time in the air being held aloft, or jumping up and down like a madman. It's such a great show, and I'm dying to get on stage when they are done. The crowd are singing along to their songs and it's truly an awesome send off for them. The atmosphere is buzzing as I stand on a chair, watching over the crowd and loving every second of their set.
As we're setting our gear up, it seems most of the crowd have fled outside to get some air. We take a while getting our sound going but it still seems pretty empty in the room that was packed full when Prospect were playing. I suddenly fear an anti-climax to the night. Maybe everyone was here to see Prospect, they are from Boston afterall. Fears are soon erradicated when we start to make some proper noise. By the time Johan announces, ”Hi, we're Victims from Sweden”, the room is once again packed.
In fact, there is hardly any room for us to stand. People are completely on top of us. We start the set with Scars as usual. The room erupts. We're not playing in front of the crowd, we're playing in it. We're not even three songs on when Johan gets a glass thrown at him, hitting him square in the head. I don't think it was intentional on this occasion though. He seems to be ok and we get on with things. During almost every song the mic stands are getting ripped down by the surging crowd in front of us. People are grabbing hold of it and screaming along to the songs. At different points during the set both Jon and myself are picked up by the crowd and thrown around on people's shoulders and hands, the whole time trying to continue to play.
We play This is the End and the whole place goes mad. The atmosphere is amazing. Johan doesn't even get near his mic come chorus time, it gets completely taken over by the crowd. People are jumping off the small stage where Andy is playing his drums. At one point ten or so people build a human pyramid, right in front of Johan. I've never seen anything like it. They are built up on top of each other, all screaming mad yet somehow choriographed. They hold out for about ten seconds before the whole thing collapses down on to Johan's feet. As we're playing Victims in Blood pt. 5, during the breakdown part of the song, another bunch of kids are sitting on the floor in front of Jon, air rowing togehter, It's absolutely hillarious. It's the most fun I've had playing a show in a long time.
We play a couple of extra songs before finally finishing up the show. Afterwards we hang out for a while chatting to Luke and Chris and the other guys, we sell a shit load of merch and swap some stuff with the other bands. As much as the Waste shows have been amazing for us, a band like Victims needs these shows too. This is where we come from. After a few last goodbyes, we wash down a quick Newcastle Brown Ale before we start packing out the gear. The snow has stopped now.
We head back to Corby through dark country roads, finally getting back to my parents house around 2am. I get into that old cosy bed and fall asleep barely a second after my head hits the pillow.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Leeds
Woke up this morning to the sound of my mobile phone letting me know I have a new message. It's Lee from the other room letting me know he's going to work in five minutes. I force myself out of the warm and cosy bed in his spare room. I don't feel as bad as maybe I deserve, or maybe that's coming later. Right now it's managable anyway..
I chat with Lee for a short while. He's made us up a goodie bag full of Scottish classics like shortbread, tablet, Irn Bru etc. I hug him goodbye before he leaves. I'm looking forward to when he and Kelly come to visit in a few weeks time. After Lee leaves, I go back to bed for a while, stepping over Jon, who is curled up, snoring on the hall way floor, on the way. I get the feeling we're not going to be keeping to our scheduled 11am departure time today. Fuck knows where Johan even is!
After pressing the snooze button on my alarm for the third time, I pull myself out of bed for good. Fuck, I feel tired! The end of the tour is in sight now and when it comes, I'm going to need a break from the booze for a while. The lack of sleep and healthy diet is really starting to tell now. When I get home, the gym needs a visit...
I go about dragging the other guys up. Jon tucks straight in to his bottle of Fernet, strill drunk, saying he's not ready to face it yet...Andy looks a bit of a wreck too. Big night for those guys last night. I can't even remember letting them back in. They said they'd taken a cab back but had absolutely no idea where they were going and just happened to spot the van, so jumped out of the cab. Apparently it had taken a while for me to come and open the door.
I force myself into the shower and try to wash away last night's booze. We sit around and munch on some of the treats Lee has bought us. I'm really chuffed to hear that the boys really dig the crumpets and the shortbread. Two things I always have friends bring with them from home when they visit Sweden. Love it.
Just as we're discussing where Johan is and wondering when he's gonna turn up, he texts us saying he'll be here in ten minutes. He turns up shortly thereafter looking like he's still a bit drunk. He's grinning like a fucking chesire cat. I guess he had a good time last night. We all throw a cup of tea down and then get in the van. I really want to stop somewhere and buy a bottle of Buckfast for my friends Linus back home. It's this insane fortified wine that all the Scottish wasters get pissed on. It gets you drunk really fast, really cheap. No wonder the Jocks love it. Unfortunately, the guy I ask at the supermarket about the beverage tells me that they no longer sell it. Apparently Bucky is only sold by a small amount of independent shops these days. I ask the guy if the situation with Buckfast and Scotland is that bad, to which he scoffs” Er...Aye!” So that will have to be one for the list when Lee comes to visit in April.
We get to Leeds a little late but true to form, Municipal are only just turning up as we do. They all look hungover too. Dave tells me that he missed me at breakfast this morning. I remember then that we had planned to meet for breaky at this really great cafe in Glasgow called Where The Monkey Sleeps. I totally blanked it this morning. Even as Dave reminds me now, it's really only a blurry drunken memory. There is no way I could have made it there for the planned 10am rendevous anyway.
The venue is absolutely fucking freezing inside and when we load in they are playing really loud music. Why would they do that? It's so fucking unnecesarry. And what's the problem with putting some heating on really? We get loaded in and laze around in the dressing room for a while. There is another gig on tonight, in the smaller room. We're sharing a dressing room with the other bands that are playing. We hang out with the singer from the band Twin Atlantic for a while. Seems like a really nice guy. It turns out he used to work as the bar manager in Nice n' Sleazys in Glasgow, the scene of last night's piss up.
When soundcheck is done, I head out into town to meet up with Snitch and my sister Carly. I'm really glad she could come to the gig tonight, we don't see enough of each other these days, since we both left Corby a long time ago. Her new boyfriend Nick was also coming to the show tonight. I was looking forward to meeting him for the first time. They seem really serious and I'm happy for her. Funny that the first time he meets me I'll be jumping around on stage like a knob, playing a hardcore show. I don't think Nick knows too much about that stuff so it'll be a fun experience for them.
I meet them in a pub accross the road from the venue. I feel hungover as shit now. Snitch has already been messaging me asking if I'm ready for a piss up tonight. I think I need a pint of Guinness. When I get into the pub and hug Carly and Snitch, I'm told Nick is at the bar buying me a pint of the Black Stuff. I love him already. Even though I've heard he's an Everton fan, with one gesture, he's made up for that indiscrepancy and won me over! That first sip of Guinness tastes dangerously good.
Nick is a really nice guy and we have fun chatting over a few pints of the good stuff. Jon turns up for a while and we get on with making ourselves fit enough for the show. After three pints of Guiness I'm actually starting to feel drunk again. That wasn't really the intention. Before we know it, it's time to get back for tonight's earlier than usual show. It's all a bit stressed when we arrive back at the venue. The first two local bands had played a little longer than scheduled. Surprise surprise. I hear the monitor guy moaning to his friend that we should have been on four minutes ago, I explain the situation to him and he shuts up.
We get going as soon as we can. The venue is packed out as per usual on these Waste shows. The atmosphere feels good too. I play totally shit for the first three songs though! I shouldn't have had that third Guinness. I flash back to a gig here with Speedhorn a long time ago. That gig was one of the only two shows I've ever played that I have absolutely no memory of, due to being completely steaming on stage! Strangely enough that gig at the Cockpit years ago also involved Snitch and Guiness. I'm determined to sharpen up and I do manage to get it together within a couple of songs.
The gig goes really well after that. People seem really into it. I really enjoy the show. I don't even break a string tonight, something I've managed to do at each other last five or so shows. There are a couple of guys down the front who really seem to be loving it, they keep offering me their Newcastle Brown Ale between songs, which I happily take. At one point Jon shouts out a song to the crowd, screaming ”This song goes out to all you colonising bastards!” He seems to have fallen in love with Scotland last night.
As soon as we play the last note, I make a bit of a deal of shaking Monitor Man's hand. He did actually give us a good stage sound, despite his earlier moaning. I dry of in the dressing room after the show and then go down to meet the guys. Carly is as pissed as a fart by the time I get down to the bar. She definately likes the sauce when she's in the mood. She really is hillarious and I love her to bits. They seemed to have a really good time watching the show anyway. We hang out for a little while longer but they soon have to leave since they're working early tomorrow. One thing that really makes me sick about my sister is that she never seems to get hangovers. I hate that. Anyway, they get going so we say bye. We're all meeting up in Hamburg for my dad's 60th birthday the weekend after this tour is over, so I don't feel as sad as I normally would saying goodbye to Carly.
We're staying at Snitch's place tonight, which I'm happy about since that measn we get to hang out properly. Snitch was the best man at our wedding and is like a brother to me. Like a lot of my good friends, we see each other far too rarely. We drink a couple of Newky Browns and watch the Municipal show. I've totally levelled out since we played and now it feels like I could drink all night and not get drunk. Sometimes it's like that after a big night. We have a good time watching the Waste as always. I have to crack up at one point when Tony lays in to the first two bands playing tonight. He wonders aloud why the fuck they are playing with bands like them. I think he's a bit pissed about them making the running order late with their earlier local hero band antics. I've seen it so many times by now and yet it still shocks me. These bands get a big show supporting a big band they most probably love, and they completley fuck it up for themselves by getting carried away and playing for way too long. I've even seen some of these bands play encores in the past. Don't they get it? If you are going to put the headlining band on twenty minutes late when there is a strict curfew on the club then the headlining band is not going to like you. I do feel a bit sorry for the guys in the opening bands as Tony basically calls them shit on stage. Apparently the singer in the opening band had a fucking sword on stage with him though, so I don't actually feel that sorry for them.
We're hanging out by the merch table afterwards and I notice the bouncers are clearing the room really fast. This sucks for us since we sell most of our merch at the end of the night, as do Municipal. What a fucking club. All they give a fuck about is kicking everybody out just to let them back in again five minutes later for another fee, just to listen to some shit DJ playing shit music. We do manage to sell a litte before the enforced exodus but it turns out to be easily the lowest night, sales wise, on the Municipal tour. Annoying since the gig felt really good and we probably could have sold a bit.
One guy comes up to me on the way out and asks me if I was in ”Fucking Speedhorn?”. Johan and Snitch laugh as I tell him I was indeed in Fucking Speedhorn. He says that he spent his youth listenng to that band. I tell him what a waste of time that must have been. I'm joking of course but it seems to throw him a bit.
As we're loading out at the end of the night, Tony is storming around looking for Lewis. He's shouting about how he's never playing this club again. I guess he's pissed at the merch exodus situation. I understand. I mean, those guys are on tour all year round. This is what they do full time, and it's their merchandise sales that pay their rent. Again, I hate to say it, but it's the typical kind of treatment you get playing in the UK.
We head off shortly after the van is packed. We drive the thirty minutes or so back to Snich's place in York, via the 24 hours Tesco, where we stop to pick up some wine. We get back to his flat and drink a couple of glasses and play some FIFA 2010. The rest of the guys drop off pretty quickly whereas me and Snitch stay up until around 3am. We finally crash out watching tv a while later, not able to keep our eyes open any longer.
It's been so great meeting so many good friends on this tour.
I chat with Lee for a short while. He's made us up a goodie bag full of Scottish classics like shortbread, tablet, Irn Bru etc. I hug him goodbye before he leaves. I'm looking forward to when he and Kelly come to visit in a few weeks time. After Lee leaves, I go back to bed for a while, stepping over Jon, who is curled up, snoring on the hall way floor, on the way. I get the feeling we're not going to be keeping to our scheduled 11am departure time today. Fuck knows where Johan even is!
After pressing the snooze button on my alarm for the third time, I pull myself out of bed for good. Fuck, I feel tired! The end of the tour is in sight now and when it comes, I'm going to need a break from the booze for a while. The lack of sleep and healthy diet is really starting to tell now. When I get home, the gym needs a visit...
I go about dragging the other guys up. Jon tucks straight in to his bottle of Fernet, strill drunk, saying he's not ready to face it yet...Andy looks a bit of a wreck too. Big night for those guys last night. I can't even remember letting them back in. They said they'd taken a cab back but had absolutely no idea where they were going and just happened to spot the van, so jumped out of the cab. Apparently it had taken a while for me to come and open the door.
I force myself into the shower and try to wash away last night's booze. We sit around and munch on some of the treats Lee has bought us. I'm really chuffed to hear that the boys really dig the crumpets and the shortbread. Two things I always have friends bring with them from home when they visit Sweden. Love it.
Just as we're discussing where Johan is and wondering when he's gonna turn up, he texts us saying he'll be here in ten minutes. He turns up shortly thereafter looking like he's still a bit drunk. He's grinning like a fucking chesire cat. I guess he had a good time last night. We all throw a cup of tea down and then get in the van. I really want to stop somewhere and buy a bottle of Buckfast for my friends Linus back home. It's this insane fortified wine that all the Scottish wasters get pissed on. It gets you drunk really fast, really cheap. No wonder the Jocks love it. Unfortunately, the guy I ask at the supermarket about the beverage tells me that they no longer sell it. Apparently Bucky is only sold by a small amount of independent shops these days. I ask the guy if the situation with Buckfast and Scotland is that bad, to which he scoffs” Er...Aye!” So that will have to be one for the list when Lee comes to visit in April.
We get to Leeds a little late but true to form, Municipal are only just turning up as we do. They all look hungover too. Dave tells me that he missed me at breakfast this morning. I remember then that we had planned to meet for breaky at this really great cafe in Glasgow called Where The Monkey Sleeps. I totally blanked it this morning. Even as Dave reminds me now, it's really only a blurry drunken memory. There is no way I could have made it there for the planned 10am rendevous anyway.
The venue is absolutely fucking freezing inside and when we load in they are playing really loud music. Why would they do that? It's so fucking unnecesarry. And what's the problem with putting some heating on really? We get loaded in and laze around in the dressing room for a while. There is another gig on tonight, in the smaller room. We're sharing a dressing room with the other bands that are playing. We hang out with the singer from the band Twin Atlantic for a while. Seems like a really nice guy. It turns out he used to work as the bar manager in Nice n' Sleazys in Glasgow, the scene of last night's piss up.
When soundcheck is done, I head out into town to meet up with Snitch and my sister Carly. I'm really glad she could come to the gig tonight, we don't see enough of each other these days, since we both left Corby a long time ago. Her new boyfriend Nick was also coming to the show tonight. I was looking forward to meeting him for the first time. They seem really serious and I'm happy for her. Funny that the first time he meets me I'll be jumping around on stage like a knob, playing a hardcore show. I don't think Nick knows too much about that stuff so it'll be a fun experience for them.
I meet them in a pub accross the road from the venue. I feel hungover as shit now. Snitch has already been messaging me asking if I'm ready for a piss up tonight. I think I need a pint of Guinness. When I get into the pub and hug Carly and Snitch, I'm told Nick is at the bar buying me a pint of the Black Stuff. I love him already. Even though I've heard he's an Everton fan, with one gesture, he's made up for that indiscrepancy and won me over! That first sip of Guinness tastes dangerously good.
Nick is a really nice guy and we have fun chatting over a few pints of the good stuff. Jon turns up for a while and we get on with making ourselves fit enough for the show. After three pints of Guiness I'm actually starting to feel drunk again. That wasn't really the intention. Before we know it, it's time to get back for tonight's earlier than usual show. It's all a bit stressed when we arrive back at the venue. The first two local bands had played a little longer than scheduled. Surprise surprise. I hear the monitor guy moaning to his friend that we should have been on four minutes ago, I explain the situation to him and he shuts up.
We get going as soon as we can. The venue is packed out as per usual on these Waste shows. The atmosphere feels good too. I play totally shit for the first three songs though! I shouldn't have had that third Guinness. I flash back to a gig here with Speedhorn a long time ago. That gig was one of the only two shows I've ever played that I have absolutely no memory of, due to being completely steaming on stage! Strangely enough that gig at the Cockpit years ago also involved Snitch and Guiness. I'm determined to sharpen up and I do manage to get it together within a couple of songs.
The gig goes really well after that. People seem really into it. I really enjoy the show. I don't even break a string tonight, something I've managed to do at each other last five or so shows. There are a couple of guys down the front who really seem to be loving it, they keep offering me their Newcastle Brown Ale between songs, which I happily take. At one point Jon shouts out a song to the crowd, screaming ”This song goes out to all you colonising bastards!” He seems to have fallen in love with Scotland last night.
As soon as we play the last note, I make a bit of a deal of shaking Monitor Man's hand. He did actually give us a good stage sound, despite his earlier moaning. I dry of in the dressing room after the show and then go down to meet the guys. Carly is as pissed as a fart by the time I get down to the bar. She definately likes the sauce when she's in the mood. She really is hillarious and I love her to bits. They seemed to have a really good time watching the show anyway. We hang out for a little while longer but they soon have to leave since they're working early tomorrow. One thing that really makes me sick about my sister is that she never seems to get hangovers. I hate that. Anyway, they get going so we say bye. We're all meeting up in Hamburg for my dad's 60th birthday the weekend after this tour is over, so I don't feel as sad as I normally would saying goodbye to Carly.
We're staying at Snitch's place tonight, which I'm happy about since that measn we get to hang out properly. Snitch was the best man at our wedding and is like a brother to me. Like a lot of my good friends, we see each other far too rarely. We drink a couple of Newky Browns and watch the Municipal show. I've totally levelled out since we played and now it feels like I could drink all night and not get drunk. Sometimes it's like that after a big night. We have a good time watching the Waste as always. I have to crack up at one point when Tony lays in to the first two bands playing tonight. He wonders aloud why the fuck they are playing with bands like them. I think he's a bit pissed about them making the running order late with their earlier local hero band antics. I've seen it so many times by now and yet it still shocks me. These bands get a big show supporting a big band they most probably love, and they completley fuck it up for themselves by getting carried away and playing for way too long. I've even seen some of these bands play encores in the past. Don't they get it? If you are going to put the headlining band on twenty minutes late when there is a strict curfew on the club then the headlining band is not going to like you. I do feel a bit sorry for the guys in the opening bands as Tony basically calls them shit on stage. Apparently the singer in the opening band had a fucking sword on stage with him though, so I don't actually feel that sorry for them.
We're hanging out by the merch table afterwards and I notice the bouncers are clearing the room really fast. This sucks for us since we sell most of our merch at the end of the night, as do Municipal. What a fucking club. All they give a fuck about is kicking everybody out just to let them back in again five minutes later for another fee, just to listen to some shit DJ playing shit music. We do manage to sell a litte before the enforced exodus but it turns out to be easily the lowest night, sales wise, on the Municipal tour. Annoying since the gig felt really good and we probably could have sold a bit.
One guy comes up to me on the way out and asks me if I was in ”Fucking Speedhorn?”. Johan and Snitch laugh as I tell him I was indeed in Fucking Speedhorn. He says that he spent his youth listenng to that band. I tell him what a waste of time that must have been. I'm joking of course but it seems to throw him a bit.
As we're loading out at the end of the night, Tony is storming around looking for Lewis. He's shouting about how he's never playing this club again. I guess he's pissed at the merch exodus situation. I understand. I mean, those guys are on tour all year round. This is what they do full time, and it's their merchandise sales that pay their rent. Again, I hate to say it, but it's the typical kind of treatment you get playing in the UK.
We head off shortly after the van is packed. We drive the thirty minutes or so back to Snich's place in York, via the 24 hours Tesco, where we stop to pick up some wine. We get back to his flat and drink a couple of glasses and play some FIFA 2010. The rest of the guys drop off pretty quickly whereas me and Snitch stay up until around 3am. We finally crash out watching tv a while later, not able to keep our eyes open any longer.
It's been so great meeting so many good friends on this tour.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Glasgow
I've been looking forward tonight since I first saw the tour dates a couple of months ago.
One of my absolute best friends, Lee, lives in Glasgow. We had a lot of fun together touring with Speedhorn. Lee at the drivers wheel and the merch stand, me on stage and tour managing. We hang out far too seldolmly these days, but that's grown up life I guess. Anyway, Lee and his wonderful girlfriend, Kelly, are coming to the show tonight and we're crashing at their place afterwards. Tonight was always gonna be fun.
It was nice to once again sleep in a bed last night. We also had the luxury of being able to lie in it until 11am. Since we were parked up at motorway hotel, we took advantage of the breakfast and coffee next door in the service station before heading up the road to Scotland. Everyone once again tucked in to a fry up. Always a top start to the day in my opinion.
The road offers some fine sights on the drive up to Glasgow, weaving its way through the Pennines and then the hilly southern borders of Scotland. As we're taking in the view, Municipal fly past us in their van. Mikel, their driver, is really hitting the gas. We salute each other as they pass, we even try to catch up with them for a while but we soon give up.
We pull up outside the back of King Tuts bang on time, and somewhow, once again, ahead of Waste. Fuck knows what they did once they overtook us earlier? I really like playing King Tuts. Glasgow is always a great gig as it is, but the people at Tuts are super friendly and make you welcome. An unfortunate rareity in the UK.
We load in through the back and get everything set up. We still have a couple of hours until soundcheck needs to be done so we chill out in the dressing room for a while. It's Scotty's birthday today. They had the day off in Birmingham yesterday and had been to see some wrestling. They seem to have a great time in Brum. Scotty seems totally fine today too, no hangover in sight. He tells me that he ended up going to bed early, around midnight, whilst Ryan kept the party going in his name until the early hours. That's a true friend right there.
Everything positive I had spouted earlier to they guys about Tuts nearly gets pissed all over by the sound guy a while later. I went in to the office to ask if there was a code for the wireless internet. It was apparently a painstaking task I had given the guy. He tells me that he just told ”the other guy” the code a minute ago. I enquire if he means Lewis, the tour manager, to which he just shrugs. ”Ok, but can you just tell me it whilst i'm here?”, to which he replies that he's already told two or three people the code...I wonder if he's joking as we stand there staring at each other. He just plain refuses to tell me. What an utter tit! If it's such a pain in the ass to tell people why don't they just stick a note on the wall in the dressing room with some fucking info on it? I thank him in the most over the top way I can manage and leave.
I go back down to the dressing room and tell the other guys about my encounter with the sound guy. Lewis just cracks up asking if it was Captain Happy I'd spoken to. Ryan pipes up, wondering what I'm talking about. He's delighted by my story and immediately trundles off to find Captain Happy, to ask him about the code. We crack up.
I don't know what Happy's problem was but thankfully his mood doesn't affect soundcheck. He actually sorts out the best sound we've had all tour. We thank him genuinely. I think he even cracks out a smile at this. I guess that must have caused him great physical pain.
Lee turns up a while later and we hang out for a bit, catching up on all the usual stuff. It's always great to see him. He's been shopping and bought us some treats for the morning. Sutff I'm dying to enforce on the Victims boys. Stuff like Irn Bru, crumpets, shortbread. Lee has fixed the lot. He even went and bought an inflatible mattress for us. What a diamond!
Although King Tuts is a small venue, they have this really ridiculous stage barrier, set up really far away from the stage, which really doesn't need much protecting. The place is pretty packed by the time we go on anyway. Lee had just got back to the venue, with Kelly beside him. Another friend of mine, Jamie, is also here somewhere. He sang in the band Ninth Circle, the first band Speedhorn ever toured with. We've been friends ever since. I've had a great time catching up with so many old friends on this tour.
The show is probably my favourite of the tour so far. Even though the stage is insanely hot, there is lots of energy from us. I have a great time playing the show. Jon is in great form too. As he introduces We're Fucked, he announces that this song should be Scotland's national anthem. I catch the bouncers pissing themseleves laughing at that. Most Scots I know have the fine trait of being able to laugh at themseleves. The gig continues on in good form and we get a really positve reaction fromthe crowd.
Once packed down afte the show and Ryan's speakers are set back up for him to use, I head over to Ronnie, in search of Lee and Kelly. After long hugs we hang out chatting to each other. Jamie is also there and he's kind enough to buy me a bottle of Budvar. It tastes like fucking heaven! We all have a great time hanging out and watching the Municipal set. At one point Tony exclaims that the barrier is the ”stoopidest” thing he's ever seen., saying that they could set Dave's drum kit up in the gap. I smirk to myself. It is indeed, a very silly thing.
After the show, we pack the van in somewhat of a blur and then take a walk down to my favourite bar in Glasgow, Nice n' Sleazy's. I tell Jon that he's going to love it, to which he replies ”We'll see”. Typical him. As it turns out, he comes up to me within in five minutes of being there and tells me that I was right. We're all pretty drunk now. Lee and Kelly hang out for a while but have to head off kind of early since they're both working in the morning. I'm disappointed but I understand. Besides, they're coming to visit in April so there will be plenty of time to catch up then.
They leave just after the Municipal guys turn up. Andy has bumped into an old friend from Nyköping, completely coincidentally. He's shocked and happy at the same time and they hang out catching up for a while. Johan has got chatting to some girl at the bar, they seem very into each other. I'm hanging out with Jon and Dave and the other Municipal guys. I have no idea who keeps buying me beer but they keep turning up in my hand. At one point I've got a beer in each hand and one on a table.
In the midst of all these high spirits, everyone's attention gets abruptly turned to some psycho guy who has taken offence at something Andy's old friend has done. He looks fucking mental and everyone kinda looks on confused. Andy's friend, Malkolm, looks terrifed and just stares at the floor. Psycho is telling him in no uncertain terms that he's going to kill him. I have to crack up when a drunk Scotty pokes his nose into the situation, in his typical mellow West Coast accent, ”Hey man, chill out dude”. Lewis shouts at Scotty and tells him to come back, pointing to where he should go. Experienced management there by Lewis.
Eventually a bouncer comes and ushers Psycho away, although even he looks worried. As he's being coaxed out he takes off his belt and holds it aloft in the air, explaining to Malkolm what he's going to do with it. Fuck sakes! He eventually leaves and we get back on with the party at hand. We're hanging out and meeting new people and the night feels good again. Andy comes staggering up to me at one point and tells me he's been knocked back at the bar. He looks absolutely shocked! I just laugh at him. I'm starting to feel really drunk myself. Ronnie nearly pisses himself laughing when he catches Andy, still looking shocked, trying to straighten himself out. He goes to lean on the bar with his elbow, only to miss and fall down, just about catching himself before he hits the floor. Brilliant!
Ronnie and I decide that it's getting late and maybe sleep should soon be considered as an option. I ask Jon if he and Andy are gonna come in the van with us back to Lee's, to which he laughs and shouts ”No! I really should but I'm not” at me. Ryan and Lewis have taken over the task of buying both Andy and Jon beer from the bar, since Jon has also been knocked back by this point. They are both amazed that they have been told enough is enough, in Glasgow. We leave Jon and Andy to it, both of them staggering about the place with smiles as broad as their faces. I don't know what's happened to Johan, well I kind of do, but I guess we'll be filled in with that particular gossip in the morning.
Thank fuck we have Ronnie out with us. Every touring band needs a straight edge friend driving them. I'm pissed and have the munchies, so demand that we go by the chip shop before we head to the van. I munch a portion of chips and cheese in the van on the way back to Lee's. It's only a short drive and we're soon back. Lee has set up all the beds, one of which I collapse into. Fuck knows how those other two tits are gonna get back. I hope Ronnie gave them the address.
A while later, in the darkness of drunken sleep, I hear Ronnie somewhere telling me to get out of bed and let the other two in. I guess they're back. I pull the sheets over my head and try to ignore them. Getting out of bed feels like an awful effort. I barely remember opening the door for them. Ronnie tries to explain to Jon and Andy that there are plenty of beds to sleep in, but both have by now lost the ability to listen. Andy crashes out on the small living room sofa, which is about half the size of the big bastard, and Jon lies down on the floor in the hallway. Fuck the dickheads, I need to go back to bed. I do just that, pretty chuffed. Both myself and Ronnie have our own double bed to stretch out in whilst Laurel and Hardy are out there.
Tomorrow is going to hurt. Sometimes it's worth it though.
One of my absolute best friends, Lee, lives in Glasgow. We had a lot of fun together touring with Speedhorn. Lee at the drivers wheel and the merch stand, me on stage and tour managing. We hang out far too seldolmly these days, but that's grown up life I guess. Anyway, Lee and his wonderful girlfriend, Kelly, are coming to the show tonight and we're crashing at their place afterwards. Tonight was always gonna be fun.
It was nice to once again sleep in a bed last night. We also had the luxury of being able to lie in it until 11am. Since we were parked up at motorway hotel, we took advantage of the breakfast and coffee next door in the service station before heading up the road to Scotland. Everyone once again tucked in to a fry up. Always a top start to the day in my opinion.
The road offers some fine sights on the drive up to Glasgow, weaving its way through the Pennines and then the hilly southern borders of Scotland. As we're taking in the view, Municipal fly past us in their van. Mikel, their driver, is really hitting the gas. We salute each other as they pass, we even try to catch up with them for a while but we soon give up.
We pull up outside the back of King Tuts bang on time, and somewhow, once again, ahead of Waste. Fuck knows what they did once they overtook us earlier? I really like playing King Tuts. Glasgow is always a great gig as it is, but the people at Tuts are super friendly and make you welcome. An unfortunate rareity in the UK.
We load in through the back and get everything set up. We still have a couple of hours until soundcheck needs to be done so we chill out in the dressing room for a while. It's Scotty's birthday today. They had the day off in Birmingham yesterday and had been to see some wrestling. They seem to have a great time in Brum. Scotty seems totally fine today too, no hangover in sight. He tells me that he ended up going to bed early, around midnight, whilst Ryan kept the party going in his name until the early hours. That's a true friend right there.
Everything positive I had spouted earlier to they guys about Tuts nearly gets pissed all over by the sound guy a while later. I went in to the office to ask if there was a code for the wireless internet. It was apparently a painstaking task I had given the guy. He tells me that he just told ”the other guy” the code a minute ago. I enquire if he means Lewis, the tour manager, to which he just shrugs. ”Ok, but can you just tell me it whilst i'm here?”, to which he replies that he's already told two or three people the code...I wonder if he's joking as we stand there staring at each other. He just plain refuses to tell me. What an utter tit! If it's such a pain in the ass to tell people why don't they just stick a note on the wall in the dressing room with some fucking info on it? I thank him in the most over the top way I can manage and leave.
I go back down to the dressing room and tell the other guys about my encounter with the sound guy. Lewis just cracks up asking if it was Captain Happy I'd spoken to. Ryan pipes up, wondering what I'm talking about. He's delighted by my story and immediately trundles off to find Captain Happy, to ask him about the code. We crack up.
I don't know what Happy's problem was but thankfully his mood doesn't affect soundcheck. He actually sorts out the best sound we've had all tour. We thank him genuinely. I think he even cracks out a smile at this. I guess that must have caused him great physical pain.
Lee turns up a while later and we hang out for a bit, catching up on all the usual stuff. It's always great to see him. He's been shopping and bought us some treats for the morning. Sutff I'm dying to enforce on the Victims boys. Stuff like Irn Bru, crumpets, shortbread. Lee has fixed the lot. He even went and bought an inflatible mattress for us. What a diamond!
Although King Tuts is a small venue, they have this really ridiculous stage barrier, set up really far away from the stage, which really doesn't need much protecting. The place is pretty packed by the time we go on anyway. Lee had just got back to the venue, with Kelly beside him. Another friend of mine, Jamie, is also here somewhere. He sang in the band Ninth Circle, the first band Speedhorn ever toured with. We've been friends ever since. I've had a great time catching up with so many old friends on this tour.
The show is probably my favourite of the tour so far. Even though the stage is insanely hot, there is lots of energy from us. I have a great time playing the show. Jon is in great form too. As he introduces We're Fucked, he announces that this song should be Scotland's national anthem. I catch the bouncers pissing themseleves laughing at that. Most Scots I know have the fine trait of being able to laugh at themseleves. The gig continues on in good form and we get a really positve reaction fromthe crowd.
Once packed down afte the show and Ryan's speakers are set back up for him to use, I head over to Ronnie, in search of Lee and Kelly. After long hugs we hang out chatting to each other. Jamie is also there and he's kind enough to buy me a bottle of Budvar. It tastes like fucking heaven! We all have a great time hanging out and watching the Municipal set. At one point Tony exclaims that the barrier is the ”stoopidest” thing he's ever seen., saying that they could set Dave's drum kit up in the gap. I smirk to myself. It is indeed, a very silly thing.
After the show, we pack the van in somewhat of a blur and then take a walk down to my favourite bar in Glasgow, Nice n' Sleazy's. I tell Jon that he's going to love it, to which he replies ”We'll see”. Typical him. As it turns out, he comes up to me within in five minutes of being there and tells me that I was right. We're all pretty drunk now. Lee and Kelly hang out for a while but have to head off kind of early since they're both working in the morning. I'm disappointed but I understand. Besides, they're coming to visit in April so there will be plenty of time to catch up then.
They leave just after the Municipal guys turn up. Andy has bumped into an old friend from Nyköping, completely coincidentally. He's shocked and happy at the same time and they hang out catching up for a while. Johan has got chatting to some girl at the bar, they seem very into each other. I'm hanging out with Jon and Dave and the other Municipal guys. I have no idea who keeps buying me beer but they keep turning up in my hand. At one point I've got a beer in each hand and one on a table.
In the midst of all these high spirits, everyone's attention gets abruptly turned to some psycho guy who has taken offence at something Andy's old friend has done. He looks fucking mental and everyone kinda looks on confused. Andy's friend, Malkolm, looks terrifed and just stares at the floor. Psycho is telling him in no uncertain terms that he's going to kill him. I have to crack up when a drunk Scotty pokes his nose into the situation, in his typical mellow West Coast accent, ”Hey man, chill out dude”. Lewis shouts at Scotty and tells him to come back, pointing to where he should go. Experienced management there by Lewis.
Eventually a bouncer comes and ushers Psycho away, although even he looks worried. As he's being coaxed out he takes off his belt and holds it aloft in the air, explaining to Malkolm what he's going to do with it. Fuck sakes! He eventually leaves and we get back on with the party at hand. We're hanging out and meeting new people and the night feels good again. Andy comes staggering up to me at one point and tells me he's been knocked back at the bar. He looks absolutely shocked! I just laugh at him. I'm starting to feel really drunk myself. Ronnie nearly pisses himself laughing when he catches Andy, still looking shocked, trying to straighten himself out. He goes to lean on the bar with his elbow, only to miss and fall down, just about catching himself before he hits the floor. Brilliant!
Ronnie and I decide that it's getting late and maybe sleep should soon be considered as an option. I ask Jon if he and Andy are gonna come in the van with us back to Lee's, to which he laughs and shouts ”No! I really should but I'm not” at me. Ryan and Lewis have taken over the task of buying both Andy and Jon beer from the bar, since Jon has also been knocked back by this point. They are both amazed that they have been told enough is enough, in Glasgow. We leave Jon and Andy to it, both of them staggering about the place with smiles as broad as their faces. I don't know what's happened to Johan, well I kind of do, but I guess we'll be filled in with that particular gossip in the morning.
Thank fuck we have Ronnie out with us. Every touring band needs a straight edge friend driving them. I'm pissed and have the munchies, so demand that we go by the chip shop before we head to the van. I munch a portion of chips and cheese in the van on the way back to Lee's. It's only a short drive and we're soon back. Lee has set up all the beds, one of which I collapse into. Fuck knows how those other two tits are gonna get back. I hope Ronnie gave them the address.
A while later, in the darkness of drunken sleep, I hear Ronnie somewhere telling me to get out of bed and let the other two in. I guess they're back. I pull the sheets over my head and try to ignore them. Getting out of bed feels like an awful effort. I barely remember opening the door for them. Ronnie tries to explain to Jon and Andy that there are plenty of beds to sleep in, but both have by now lost the ability to listen. Andy crashes out on the small living room sofa, which is about half the size of the big bastard, and Jon lies down on the floor in the hallway. Fuck the dickheads, I need to go back to bed. I do just that, pretty chuffed. Both myself and Ronnie have our own double bed to stretch out in whilst Laurel and Hardy are out there.
Tomorrow is going to hurt. Sometimes it's worth it though.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Nottingham
Today is another free day for Municipal Waste, another gig for us.
I wake up earlier than I had hoped. Back in the room I had called my own for the first ten years of my life. I later moved into the larger room at the back of the house during my teenage years, my younger sister relegated to the smaller room I'm lying in right now. I don't know what it is but my mum has an amazing skill of making the most comfortable beds. Maybe it's the comfort of home, I don't know. I lie in bed for at least a good hour after waking though, just enjoying the soft matress.
The othe guys are spread about the house sleeping in beds my mum had so kindly fixed before we got back last night. I leave them to their well earned sleep and go downstairs for a cup of tea with my parents. It's great to see them as always.
The rest of the guys awake to an english breakfast ala mum. They all seem really satisfied with it. We sit around the tv for a while watching Andy Murray getting his ass scumped in the Australian Open Tennis Final by Roger Federer. We don't have to leave for Nottingham until at least 3.30pm today so we can take it nice and easy. Cups of coffee flow in and out as we sit around the tv watching the tennis. Wonderful not to think about touring for a little while.
My best mate Snitch pops his head through the door around lunchtime. He lives in York these days, we'll be staying at his flat on Tuesday night after the Leeds show, but he's he's back for the weekend visiting our home town. The lot of us, along with dad, head to the local pub around the corner for a Sunday lunch time pint. I've been telling the guys about this pub since we left from Stockholm. The Rockingham Arms, or the Rock as it's known to us, is my absolute favourtie public house in the world. It looks like something from a scene in Trainspotting, pure filfth. The regulars, who are there every single day, morning to night, are all faces I've grew up with. My Grandmother used to tend the bar here...it's pretty rough in here and some people are intimidated by it, but I love it. The beer is tasty and most likely, the cheapest in the land. What more do you need? One lunch time pint turns into three. Johan and Andy decide to take a walk into town after the first of the pints, I wish them good luck and head back to the bar. Myself, dad, Snitch and Jon engage in conversation over another couple of the Rock's finest ale.
Sadly, time flies and before long we have to leave. I hug my mum and dad goodbye and tell them we'll be back on Wednesday night after the Boston show. I decide to guide the boys along the scenic route to Nottingham. As much as Corby could easily be described as a rough little town, maybe even ugly, the surrounding countryside is in my opinion, the finest in the land. The view from the top of Rockingham Hill over the Nene Valley, just as you leave Corby, is idilic English country. We weave our way through the villages of Caldecott and Uppingham and on through Oakham (my mum's home town) and Melton Mowbray. For possibly the first time since I moved to Sweden, I feel a pang of longing for my home land. Maybe I could one day return here, a house out here in this beautiful countryside. I don't know if it's just the fact that the sun is setting over a beautiful, clear winters day, lighting up the fields that spread as far as the eye can see, but I feel a longing I've never felt before. I sit up front in the van guiding Johan to Nottingham, staring at the passing scenery.
We get to Nottingham right on time to load in. Our friend Henry, who played in Army of Flying Robots and now plays in Dead in the Woods, who are alos playing the show tonight, meets us as we arrive. I'd heard from Kev that the Chameleon Cafe, tonight's venue, was a great new DIY spot. He'd been here to see Gasmask Terror a few weeks ago and was raving about the place. We load in trough the tight alleyway beside the neighbouring bar, and up through the narrow stairs into the tiny room we're playing tonight. The first thing you notice is that the PA is fucking huge! It's gonna be as loud as hell in here later. The other thing I happen to notice is the floor area we're playing on, behind the monster PA, seems to be laden with rubber mats. I can feel my legfs aching already.
We get set up, soundcheck, and then head down to the bar area downstairs and eat some punk curry. It's good, if not a little cold, but a meal is a meal, always. We have to go buy ourselves some beer, since the miserable old bastard behind the bar makes it clear we're getting fuck all from him, no compliments of the house. Nothing unusual per say, it's just typical British treatment. Maybe you really do get spoiled on the mainland, or maybe it's just that you just get treated like a human being there. Who knows?...
Anyway, instead of giving the old fucker any of our money, we head to the nearest Tescos and buy some beer and wine. We subtly tuck into it during the other band sets. Dead in the Woods are fucking amazing! I enjoy every minute of their set and swap an lp with them afterwards. Their guitar player Andy, who also played in Robots, is great on stage.
I check out the other bands in small parts, but spend most of the night talking to my old friend, James, who I grew up with in Corby. He plays in a band called Fists with his girlfroend Angie these days. It seems to be going well for them, they just played some shows with Obits, Rick Froberg's new band. I'm a little jealous. James sang in the first band I ever played in, Morphine, when I was fourteen years old. We have a laugh about the old days over a beer. He tells me he was worried before coming tonight that he wouldn't look punk enough. He tells me that when he first spotted me his fears were soon erased! I guess I'm not too much into that look myself, I'm more into buying the records than the safety pins and the boots.
As we're talking, a guy called Ben comes up and intoduces himself to me. It turns out that he plays in a great band called Jealous, whom Speedhorn's old bass player, Dave, had tried out for after we split up. Myself and Kev had highly encouraged Dave to join them but typical of him, he backed away. Ben tells me Dave said to say his sorry but he won't be making it tonight. Funny. I haven't heard from Dave in ages and knew nothing about his supposed coming to tonight's show. If I had know in advance, I certainly would not have been surprised by his failure to show up anyway. I love him, but he's a bit of a flake. I hear him and Jay have a new indie band together and have turned their backs on hardcore, well Jay anyway. I can't say I blame them after some of the experiences we had with Speedhorn. I'm still here though, and tonight I'm loving it.
I really enjoy hanging out with James. He seems really intrested in the crust and hardcore scene. We talk for a while about it. He's not really involved in it, but he's always been interested in different social scenes and lifestyles. He really enjoys the show tonight, as do I. There are about fifty people here and the atmosphere is ace. I had briefly chatted with Gords earlier, the Geriatric Unit singer. Andy had asked me if I thought whether Steve, their drummer and legend from his days in Heresy, would turn up. He does and Andy turns into the excited punk rock school boy he is.
The show is fun. There are a couple of typical punks down the front, giving it the usual interaction. ”Play faster!” and the likes. Everywhere you go you get the same crack. It seems to be a crust punk thing. They seem to love it anyway. At the end of the set I go to walk off, knackered and dripping with sweat, only to be blocked by this one shouter guy, who pushes me back on to the makeshift stage, demanding more songs. We oblige with Destroy and Rebuild and Another Way to Die, before finally finsishing for the night. I walk off and the first person that grabs me is Steve Heresy, who hugs me and tells me it was great! I don't think he recognises me even though we'd met a few times. He's drunk as usual. I tell him thanks and that Kev says hello, to which he looks confused, ”Oh, yeah yeah, great!” he says. Kev and Steve had played together in the short lived 666 Dead. They only released one 7”, which was fucking ace! We had the honour of playing a gig with them in the early Speedhorn days.
We hang out for a while, swapping records, buying records from the distro downstairs. Gords and I talk about doing some Geriatric Unit/Victims shows in Scandinavia at some point in the future. I hope that happens. I meet Andy later and he delightedly tells me he met Steve. Steve had also told Andy he loved the show and I think Andy's whole tour has just been made.
We pack out eventually, I say goodbye to James and we hang out with Henry and the DITW guys on the streets for a while. I think a few of them are coming to Boston on Wedensday. It will be afterall, Burning the Prospect's final show.
We get in the van and head towards Glasgow. We pull into a Travelodge somewhere just outside of Manchester. Johan and I share a room and a double bed. Neither of us mind. We lie in bed drinking tea and watching late nate news.
Today was a good day.
I wake up earlier than I had hoped. Back in the room I had called my own for the first ten years of my life. I later moved into the larger room at the back of the house during my teenage years, my younger sister relegated to the smaller room I'm lying in right now. I don't know what it is but my mum has an amazing skill of making the most comfortable beds. Maybe it's the comfort of home, I don't know. I lie in bed for at least a good hour after waking though, just enjoying the soft matress.
The othe guys are spread about the house sleeping in beds my mum had so kindly fixed before we got back last night. I leave them to their well earned sleep and go downstairs for a cup of tea with my parents. It's great to see them as always.
The rest of the guys awake to an english breakfast ala mum. They all seem really satisfied with it. We sit around the tv for a while watching Andy Murray getting his ass scumped in the Australian Open Tennis Final by Roger Federer. We don't have to leave for Nottingham until at least 3.30pm today so we can take it nice and easy. Cups of coffee flow in and out as we sit around the tv watching the tennis. Wonderful not to think about touring for a little while.
My best mate Snitch pops his head through the door around lunchtime. He lives in York these days, we'll be staying at his flat on Tuesday night after the Leeds show, but he's he's back for the weekend visiting our home town. The lot of us, along with dad, head to the local pub around the corner for a Sunday lunch time pint. I've been telling the guys about this pub since we left from Stockholm. The Rockingham Arms, or the Rock as it's known to us, is my absolute favourtie public house in the world. It looks like something from a scene in Trainspotting, pure filfth. The regulars, who are there every single day, morning to night, are all faces I've grew up with. My Grandmother used to tend the bar here...it's pretty rough in here and some people are intimidated by it, but I love it. The beer is tasty and most likely, the cheapest in the land. What more do you need? One lunch time pint turns into three. Johan and Andy decide to take a walk into town after the first of the pints, I wish them good luck and head back to the bar. Myself, dad, Snitch and Jon engage in conversation over another couple of the Rock's finest ale.
Sadly, time flies and before long we have to leave. I hug my mum and dad goodbye and tell them we'll be back on Wednesday night after the Boston show. I decide to guide the boys along the scenic route to Nottingham. As much as Corby could easily be described as a rough little town, maybe even ugly, the surrounding countryside is in my opinion, the finest in the land. The view from the top of Rockingham Hill over the Nene Valley, just as you leave Corby, is idilic English country. We weave our way through the villages of Caldecott and Uppingham and on through Oakham (my mum's home town) and Melton Mowbray. For possibly the first time since I moved to Sweden, I feel a pang of longing for my home land. Maybe I could one day return here, a house out here in this beautiful countryside. I don't know if it's just the fact that the sun is setting over a beautiful, clear winters day, lighting up the fields that spread as far as the eye can see, but I feel a longing I've never felt before. I sit up front in the van guiding Johan to Nottingham, staring at the passing scenery.
We get to Nottingham right on time to load in. Our friend Henry, who played in Army of Flying Robots and now plays in Dead in the Woods, who are alos playing the show tonight, meets us as we arrive. I'd heard from Kev that the Chameleon Cafe, tonight's venue, was a great new DIY spot. He'd been here to see Gasmask Terror a few weeks ago and was raving about the place. We load in trough the tight alleyway beside the neighbouring bar, and up through the narrow stairs into the tiny room we're playing tonight. The first thing you notice is that the PA is fucking huge! It's gonna be as loud as hell in here later. The other thing I happen to notice is the floor area we're playing on, behind the monster PA, seems to be laden with rubber mats. I can feel my legfs aching already.
We get set up, soundcheck, and then head down to the bar area downstairs and eat some punk curry. It's good, if not a little cold, but a meal is a meal, always. We have to go buy ourselves some beer, since the miserable old bastard behind the bar makes it clear we're getting fuck all from him, no compliments of the house. Nothing unusual per say, it's just typical British treatment. Maybe you really do get spoiled on the mainland, or maybe it's just that you just get treated like a human being there. Who knows?...
Anyway, instead of giving the old fucker any of our money, we head to the nearest Tescos and buy some beer and wine. We subtly tuck into it during the other band sets. Dead in the Woods are fucking amazing! I enjoy every minute of their set and swap an lp with them afterwards. Their guitar player Andy, who also played in Robots, is great on stage.
I check out the other bands in small parts, but spend most of the night talking to my old friend, James, who I grew up with in Corby. He plays in a band called Fists with his girlfroend Angie these days. It seems to be going well for them, they just played some shows with Obits, Rick Froberg's new band. I'm a little jealous. James sang in the first band I ever played in, Morphine, when I was fourteen years old. We have a laugh about the old days over a beer. He tells me he was worried before coming tonight that he wouldn't look punk enough. He tells me that when he first spotted me his fears were soon erased! I guess I'm not too much into that look myself, I'm more into buying the records than the safety pins and the boots.
As we're talking, a guy called Ben comes up and intoduces himself to me. It turns out that he plays in a great band called Jealous, whom Speedhorn's old bass player, Dave, had tried out for after we split up. Myself and Kev had highly encouraged Dave to join them but typical of him, he backed away. Ben tells me Dave said to say his sorry but he won't be making it tonight. Funny. I haven't heard from Dave in ages and knew nothing about his supposed coming to tonight's show. If I had know in advance, I certainly would not have been surprised by his failure to show up anyway. I love him, but he's a bit of a flake. I hear him and Jay have a new indie band together and have turned their backs on hardcore, well Jay anyway. I can't say I blame them after some of the experiences we had with Speedhorn. I'm still here though, and tonight I'm loving it.
I really enjoy hanging out with James. He seems really intrested in the crust and hardcore scene. We talk for a while about it. He's not really involved in it, but he's always been interested in different social scenes and lifestyles. He really enjoys the show tonight, as do I. There are about fifty people here and the atmosphere is ace. I had briefly chatted with Gords earlier, the Geriatric Unit singer. Andy had asked me if I thought whether Steve, their drummer and legend from his days in Heresy, would turn up. He does and Andy turns into the excited punk rock school boy he is.
The show is fun. There are a couple of typical punks down the front, giving it the usual interaction. ”Play faster!” and the likes. Everywhere you go you get the same crack. It seems to be a crust punk thing. They seem to love it anyway. At the end of the set I go to walk off, knackered and dripping with sweat, only to be blocked by this one shouter guy, who pushes me back on to the makeshift stage, demanding more songs. We oblige with Destroy and Rebuild and Another Way to Die, before finally finsishing for the night. I walk off and the first person that grabs me is Steve Heresy, who hugs me and tells me it was great! I don't think he recognises me even though we'd met a few times. He's drunk as usual. I tell him thanks and that Kev says hello, to which he looks confused, ”Oh, yeah yeah, great!” he says. Kev and Steve had played together in the short lived 666 Dead. They only released one 7”, which was fucking ace! We had the honour of playing a gig with them in the early Speedhorn days.
We hang out for a while, swapping records, buying records from the distro downstairs. Gords and I talk about doing some Geriatric Unit/Victims shows in Scandinavia at some point in the future. I hope that happens. I meet Andy later and he delightedly tells me he met Steve. Steve had also told Andy he loved the show and I think Andy's whole tour has just been made.
We pack out eventually, I say goodbye to James and we hang out with Henry and the DITW guys on the streets for a while. I think a few of them are coming to Boston on Wedensday. It will be afterall, Burning the Prospect's final show.
We get in the van and head towards Glasgow. We pull into a Travelodge somewhere just outside of Manchester. Johan and I share a room and a double bed. Neither of us mind. We lie in bed drinking tea and watching late nate news.
Today was a good day.
Birmingham
Although having to get out of bed this morning at 6.30am wasn't exactly ideal, we were all grateful for the few hours we had been able to spend in a bed at least. It was such a great feeling lying there last night that I hardly wanted to fall asleep. For one thing it was a comfortable, clean bed and for another thing, falling asleep would just accelerate time forward to me getting back into the cold van and driving onwards.
We drive the rest of the journey between Eindhoven and Calais without incident, arriving with fourty minutes to spare. The guy at passport control jokes with us over our passport photos, asking if we've all had plastic surgery since we obtained our passports. I turn out to be the only guy in the band that still resembles his passport photo. Jon looks really different in his. He'd sorted his passport out right before Victims played their first US tour and he was super paranoid about getting in, so in his passport he's all clean shaven and has a school teacher haircut. He could not look more different these days!
We get a real British welcome whilst queing to drive the van on to the boat. We pull up behind a car obviously inhabited by Brits. There are two of them packing crates of Fosters into the boot of the car. Jon is up front with Ronnie and he laughs about their choice of beer. ”Typical Brits” he chuckles. Next thing this other complete meat head gets out of the car and stares at Jon. I glance away for a second. When I return my gaze back at Meat Head I happen to catch him grunting the word ”Wot?!” as he glares at Jon. Jon cracks up. He thinks British thugs are fascinating. He loves it.
On the boat later he tells me about the full encounter with Meat Head. Apparently when the guy climbed out the back of their car and caught Jon gleefully staring at him, he nodded his head, chin out, eye brows screwed up. Jon tells me he returned the nod, to which he then recieved the enquiry”Wot?!”. I explain to Jon that the nod the twat had given him was not meant as a friendly greeting but as a threat. Chin out always means threat. Jon laughs with joy, chuffed he's just experienced his first run in with a complete and utter British twat!
We get on the ferry and head straight for the canteen. We're all starving and we prepare ourselves for England with a fry up breakfast. Fucking expensive though it is, it tastes great. Johan asks me if I think one will get a free refill on the tea we got with breakfast. Even though it was a ridiculously small cup of tea, I doubt very much they're handing out free refills. I explain to him that you get fuck all for free in England! We decide to go help ourselves anyway since there doesn't seem to be any canteen staff in sight. We take some free hot water and as we're walking back to our table, some silly old bag comes running over to us and starts shouting the price of the tea at us. I ask her with genuine interest, if she is really going to charge us for some boiled water when we just paid £9.20 for a fucking fry up. She then tells me if we're using the same tea bag then she supposes it's ok. Welcome to England!
As soon as we drink the last of the refills we've been so kindly allowed, the old bag runs over and whips the empty cups away from us. What a life some people have...
We arrive at the venue about an hour late, but since we never soundcheck it's not a big deal. I'm more than satisfied with our efforts in getting here from Oslo. The promoter meets us out back and tells us that Municipal aren't even there yet. We crack up. The fuckers flew from Norway and we still beat them to the show!
The promoter, or should I say, the promoters rep, is a guy called Dave who immediately asks me if I was in Speedhorn before. Turns out the second show he ever booked was a Speedhorn show in Oxford. It never ceases to amaze me how the whole promoter bullshit works in the UK. The promoter is never at the show, never available on the end of a phone on the night. All you get is a rep who has absolutely no authority to sort anything out, should any discrepancies appear on the night. Like, getting paid the right ammount of money for example. As it happens, Dave is a good guy and we have no such troubles.
It's a really high stage again tonight, with a weird feel to it. We are never comfortable playing to a crowd that is kept so far apart by a big barrier and a few burly security guards. The gig feels ok, nothing special though. It's pretty obvious to me that we're all a bit jaded from the last couple of days driving. Strangely enough, both Ronnie and Scott say afterwards that the show was really great and the crowd were kicking off. It didn't seem like that to us but then again, due to the lighting set up, all we could really see was the first row of people and they were there, obviously just claiming their space for the Municipal show. Again, funny how the bands perception can be totally different to the crowds'.
Another highlight of the tour so far was the fact that Violent Arrest opened the show tonight. There was talk of them playing the whole UK leg but that isn't happening unfortunately. It's great to see them play anyway. We share a room with them and they turn out to be a friendly bunch of gentlemen. Andy is particularly pleased to see them, he's a big fan. I see Andy near the front as they play, nodding his head and looking absolutely delighted.
Gordon and John from Speedhorn came to the show tonight, although not together. They barely say a word to each other during the night. John is here with a couple of guys from his new band and Gordon is here with his girlfriend Katy. Typical John, he hadn't even got in touch and asked about a guestlist for the show, he just turns up and buys a ticket. I had sorted Gordon and Katy out with some passes. Gordon had spotted John in the cue on the way in and taken great delight in walking striaght past him with his pass, grinning as he goes. Oh how I miss that band...
It was strange for me to be playing a big show knowing two of my guys from Speedhorn were in the crowd. They both loved the show, or at least that's what they tell me afterwads. I'm glad to see them. I catch up with John for a while by our merch table later on and he seems happy. I'm glad he's playing in a new band. He buys a Victims shirt and completely refuses to accept one for free, demanding we take his money. Typical him.
We talk with the Municipal guys about going for a pint after the show but nothing really materialises. We're all pretty tired and it's freezing outside and after hanging around with Dave for a while trying to work out a plan, we decided to get the van packed and go get some food instead. We end up having a pleasant sit down meal at the nearest Indian with Gordon and Katy. Perfect end to an English night out. The meal is superb and we have a great time catching up with our friends. At one point two guys fall into the restaurant, fighting with each other. The people at the restaurant pull them apart and kick them out. As we look on, cracking up at the scene before us, I notice the other patrons haven't even glanced up, they just get on with their meals as if it's all completely normal. I must have been away for too long. I quickly realise that it is unfortunately, perfectly normal.
After the meal we say our goodbyes to Gordon and Katy and get in the van. We're making the short drive back to my parents house to sleep. We don't have to leave tomorrow until late afternoon. Heaven.
We drive the rest of the journey between Eindhoven and Calais without incident, arriving with fourty minutes to spare. The guy at passport control jokes with us over our passport photos, asking if we've all had plastic surgery since we obtained our passports. I turn out to be the only guy in the band that still resembles his passport photo. Jon looks really different in his. He'd sorted his passport out right before Victims played their first US tour and he was super paranoid about getting in, so in his passport he's all clean shaven and has a school teacher haircut. He could not look more different these days!
We get a real British welcome whilst queing to drive the van on to the boat. We pull up behind a car obviously inhabited by Brits. There are two of them packing crates of Fosters into the boot of the car. Jon is up front with Ronnie and he laughs about their choice of beer. ”Typical Brits” he chuckles. Next thing this other complete meat head gets out of the car and stares at Jon. I glance away for a second. When I return my gaze back at Meat Head I happen to catch him grunting the word ”Wot?!” as he glares at Jon. Jon cracks up. He thinks British thugs are fascinating. He loves it.
On the boat later he tells me about the full encounter with Meat Head. Apparently when the guy climbed out the back of their car and caught Jon gleefully staring at him, he nodded his head, chin out, eye brows screwed up. Jon tells me he returned the nod, to which he then recieved the enquiry”Wot?!”. I explain to Jon that the nod the twat had given him was not meant as a friendly greeting but as a threat. Chin out always means threat. Jon laughs with joy, chuffed he's just experienced his first run in with a complete and utter British twat!
We get on the ferry and head straight for the canteen. We're all starving and we prepare ourselves for England with a fry up breakfast. Fucking expensive though it is, it tastes great. Johan asks me if I think one will get a free refill on the tea we got with breakfast. Even though it was a ridiculously small cup of tea, I doubt very much they're handing out free refills. I explain to him that you get fuck all for free in England! We decide to go help ourselves anyway since there doesn't seem to be any canteen staff in sight. We take some free hot water and as we're walking back to our table, some silly old bag comes running over to us and starts shouting the price of the tea at us. I ask her with genuine interest, if she is really going to charge us for some boiled water when we just paid £9.20 for a fucking fry up. She then tells me if we're using the same tea bag then she supposes it's ok. Welcome to England!
As soon as we drink the last of the refills we've been so kindly allowed, the old bag runs over and whips the empty cups away from us. What a life some people have...
We arrive at the venue about an hour late, but since we never soundcheck it's not a big deal. I'm more than satisfied with our efforts in getting here from Oslo. The promoter meets us out back and tells us that Municipal aren't even there yet. We crack up. The fuckers flew from Norway and we still beat them to the show!
The promoter, or should I say, the promoters rep, is a guy called Dave who immediately asks me if I was in Speedhorn before. Turns out the second show he ever booked was a Speedhorn show in Oxford. It never ceases to amaze me how the whole promoter bullshit works in the UK. The promoter is never at the show, never available on the end of a phone on the night. All you get is a rep who has absolutely no authority to sort anything out, should any discrepancies appear on the night. Like, getting paid the right ammount of money for example. As it happens, Dave is a good guy and we have no such troubles.
It's a really high stage again tonight, with a weird feel to it. We are never comfortable playing to a crowd that is kept so far apart by a big barrier and a few burly security guards. The gig feels ok, nothing special though. It's pretty obvious to me that we're all a bit jaded from the last couple of days driving. Strangely enough, both Ronnie and Scott say afterwards that the show was really great and the crowd were kicking off. It didn't seem like that to us but then again, due to the lighting set up, all we could really see was the first row of people and they were there, obviously just claiming their space for the Municipal show. Again, funny how the bands perception can be totally different to the crowds'.
Another highlight of the tour so far was the fact that Violent Arrest opened the show tonight. There was talk of them playing the whole UK leg but that isn't happening unfortunately. It's great to see them play anyway. We share a room with them and they turn out to be a friendly bunch of gentlemen. Andy is particularly pleased to see them, he's a big fan. I see Andy near the front as they play, nodding his head and looking absolutely delighted.
Gordon and John from Speedhorn came to the show tonight, although not together. They barely say a word to each other during the night. John is here with a couple of guys from his new band and Gordon is here with his girlfriend Katy. Typical John, he hadn't even got in touch and asked about a guestlist for the show, he just turns up and buys a ticket. I had sorted Gordon and Katy out with some passes. Gordon had spotted John in the cue on the way in and taken great delight in walking striaght past him with his pass, grinning as he goes. Oh how I miss that band...
It was strange for me to be playing a big show knowing two of my guys from Speedhorn were in the crowd. They both loved the show, or at least that's what they tell me afterwads. I'm glad to see them. I catch up with John for a while by our merch table later on and he seems happy. I'm glad he's playing in a new band. He buys a Victims shirt and completely refuses to accept one for free, demanding we take his money. Typical him.
We talk with the Municipal guys about going for a pint after the show but nothing really materialises. We're all pretty tired and it's freezing outside and after hanging around with Dave for a while trying to work out a plan, we decided to get the van packed and go get some food instead. We end up having a pleasant sit down meal at the nearest Indian with Gordon and Katy. Perfect end to an English night out. The meal is superb and we have a great time catching up with our friends. At one point two guys fall into the restaurant, fighting with each other. The people at the restaurant pull them apart and kick them out. As we look on, cracking up at the scene before us, I notice the other patrons haven't even glanced up, they just get on with their meals as if it's all completely normal. I must have been away for too long. I quickly realise that it is unfortunately, perfectly normal.
After the meal we say our goodbyes to Gordon and Katy and get in the van. We're making the short drive back to my parents house to sleep. We don't have to leave tomorrow until late afternoon. Heaven.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Oslo to Birmingham
I am lying in a hotel bed on the outskirts of Eindhoven. We left Oslo last night at 1am and we arrived here about half an hour ago, twenty two hours since we left.
We've been in the van almost the whole time since we departed Oslo. Martin drove the van all the way back to his place in Göteborg. I'd decided would sit up front with him and co-drive, since I was feeling pretty frisk but within an hour of leaving, my eye lids were as heavy as lead. Trying to keep my head up, straight and focused on the road ahead, was pure torture. My head felt as heavy as a bowling ball. Andy sat beside me was out before I was.
Thankfully Martin was more than fit for the task of driving. Wide awake, sat at the wheel listening to a playlist of classic punk records. It was dark as hell and the snow was hammering down at times, the roads winding their way through the black Norwegian countryside. The sound of Martin's voice and the Adolescents playing behind it, drifting in and out of my conscience. After a while Martin assured me he was fine and gave me permission to nod off. I have a hard time sleeping in an upright position though, especially with the leg room being so sparse. I think five minutes here and there was all I could grasp before we got to Göteborg, just after 6am.
When we said goodbye to Martin and thanked him for his invaluable efforts, I swapped seats with Jon and hopped in the back of the van. Johan took over the driver's wheel and we carried on.
I woke up sometime around daybreak. We were parked somewhere off the side of the road, engine still running and Johan sleeping at the wheel. I'm glad he's sensible enough to pull over if and when he's fucked.
A while later I wake again as the van is pulling into a petrol station somewhere near Malmö. It's still only 9.30 and we still have a hell of a long way to go. I'm not sure if I have slept much at all, but I feel like shit. We're couped up in the back of the van, every time you nod off, you realise your leg or your arse cheek has gone numb and it kicks conscienceness back in like a lightning bolt.
We're in the garage shop, trying to work out our plan. We know we have about twenty four hours to get to Calais. From there we get the boat and then we have roughly a five hour journey from Dover to Birmingham. Just to top things off, load in is early. 2pm.
We had originally planned to head to Stachel's place in Bremen and crash out there for a few hours, before starting off again around 1am and driving the rest of the way to Calais. We had hoped to be in Bremen around 2pm today, but that is not going to happen. It's gonna be at least four hours later than that. We decide to see how far we can get and then find a hotel to sleep in, with the aim of getting as close to Calais as possible. The trouble is neither Johan or Ronnie have slept more than a couple of hours each and the weather is miserable. The snow is pounding the van again and the going is slow.
We take the ferry from Rödby to Puttgarden at 1pm. This gives our drivers the chance to lie down for at least fourty five minutes. We get to Germany and the weather is even worse than in Denmark. This is turning into one hell of a fucking battle.
The guys take turns at the wheel. One driving, the other behind trying to sleep when they get the chance. It's just impossible. The van is cramped. It's impossible to sleep for any real amount of time. The daylight starts to fade as we near the Dutch border. By now we've taken the decision to stop at hotel by Eindhoven. Johan has checked it out on his beloved Iphone and found a good price. Hopefully we can get to the hotel sometime around 10.30pm and sleep until 6.30 the next morning. It's only another few hours to Calais from Eindhoven and it will feel so much better tomorrow if we get some sleep in a real bed.
It's almost easy to forget that we actually have a show to play at the end of all this. God knows how that gig is gonna be. To be honest, I don't really care, as long as we make it there and we play it.
We get to the hotel at 11pm. Everyone dying just to fall into bed. It has been a torturous couple of days in the van and we're all getting cabin fever. Unbelievably, the lady at reception has to break it to us that we were quoted the wrong price over the phone earlier today. They gave us the price for one room and not the two we asked for. Even though it's an utter kick in the bollocks, I'm ready to pay whatever it takes to get me into a bed. Johan spends some time laying into the reception woman all the same.
So here I am. Newly showered with freshly brushed teeth for the first time since Oslo and a stomach churning over the shitload of crap food it's had to endure from the various service stations along the road. Jon is watching Dexter on the hotel tv, Andy is watching some dvd on his mini player. I'm going to sleep.
Looking forward to a proper meal tomorrow. And a pint.
We've been in the van almost the whole time since we departed Oslo. Martin drove the van all the way back to his place in Göteborg. I'd decided would sit up front with him and co-drive, since I was feeling pretty frisk but within an hour of leaving, my eye lids were as heavy as lead. Trying to keep my head up, straight and focused on the road ahead, was pure torture. My head felt as heavy as a bowling ball. Andy sat beside me was out before I was.
Thankfully Martin was more than fit for the task of driving. Wide awake, sat at the wheel listening to a playlist of classic punk records. It was dark as hell and the snow was hammering down at times, the roads winding their way through the black Norwegian countryside. The sound of Martin's voice and the Adolescents playing behind it, drifting in and out of my conscience. After a while Martin assured me he was fine and gave me permission to nod off. I have a hard time sleeping in an upright position though, especially with the leg room being so sparse. I think five minutes here and there was all I could grasp before we got to Göteborg, just after 6am.
When we said goodbye to Martin and thanked him for his invaluable efforts, I swapped seats with Jon and hopped in the back of the van. Johan took over the driver's wheel and we carried on.
I woke up sometime around daybreak. We were parked somewhere off the side of the road, engine still running and Johan sleeping at the wheel. I'm glad he's sensible enough to pull over if and when he's fucked.
A while later I wake again as the van is pulling into a petrol station somewhere near Malmö. It's still only 9.30 and we still have a hell of a long way to go. I'm not sure if I have slept much at all, but I feel like shit. We're couped up in the back of the van, every time you nod off, you realise your leg or your arse cheek has gone numb and it kicks conscienceness back in like a lightning bolt.
We're in the garage shop, trying to work out our plan. We know we have about twenty four hours to get to Calais. From there we get the boat and then we have roughly a five hour journey from Dover to Birmingham. Just to top things off, load in is early. 2pm.
We had originally planned to head to Stachel's place in Bremen and crash out there for a few hours, before starting off again around 1am and driving the rest of the way to Calais. We had hoped to be in Bremen around 2pm today, but that is not going to happen. It's gonna be at least four hours later than that. We decide to see how far we can get and then find a hotel to sleep in, with the aim of getting as close to Calais as possible. The trouble is neither Johan or Ronnie have slept more than a couple of hours each and the weather is miserable. The snow is pounding the van again and the going is slow.
We take the ferry from Rödby to Puttgarden at 1pm. This gives our drivers the chance to lie down for at least fourty five minutes. We get to Germany and the weather is even worse than in Denmark. This is turning into one hell of a fucking battle.
The guys take turns at the wheel. One driving, the other behind trying to sleep when they get the chance. It's just impossible. The van is cramped. It's impossible to sleep for any real amount of time. The daylight starts to fade as we near the Dutch border. By now we've taken the decision to stop at hotel by Eindhoven. Johan has checked it out on his beloved Iphone and found a good price. Hopefully we can get to the hotel sometime around 10.30pm and sleep until 6.30 the next morning. It's only another few hours to Calais from Eindhoven and it will feel so much better tomorrow if we get some sleep in a real bed.
It's almost easy to forget that we actually have a show to play at the end of all this. God knows how that gig is gonna be. To be honest, I don't really care, as long as we make it there and we play it.
We get to the hotel at 11pm. Everyone dying just to fall into bed. It has been a torturous couple of days in the van and we're all getting cabin fever. Unbelievably, the lady at reception has to break it to us that we were quoted the wrong price over the phone earlier today. They gave us the price for one room and not the two we asked for. Even though it's an utter kick in the bollocks, I'm ready to pay whatever it takes to get me into a bed. Johan spends some time laying into the reception woman all the same.
So here I am. Newly showered with freshly brushed teeth for the first time since Oslo and a stomach churning over the shitload of crap food it's had to endure from the various service stations along the road. Jon is watching Dexter on the hotel tv, Andy is watching some dvd on his mini player. I'm going to sleep.
Looking forward to a proper meal tomorrow. And a pint.
Oslo
The next couple of days are going to be tough. These last two nights in my own bed could not have been better timed.
Again, it's funny how time takes on it's own dimension when you're on tour. It was only ten days ago I kissed Jenny goodbye before the first leg of the tour, here we were again this morning. For me it felt like I had been gone for a month or so, for Jenny it probably felt like ten days...Not so strange that everything gets warped when you drink every day, eat sporadically and sleep is nothing more than a fleeting friend.
Since Jon lives close to me, we'd arranged for the guys to pick us by the pizzeria at the corner of my street. For once the weather forecast was spot on. It had indeed snowed all night and travel conditons were looking shitty. Funny how the weather people always seem to get it right when they predict shit weather. After waiting for a while in the cold, Ronnie finally came trudging up the hill in the new van. The other guys came walking up behind him shortly after, saying something about the van not making it up the hill in the snow, with them in the back of it. That can't be good, surely?
We have another extra passenger with us today. Martin, who played guitar in At the Gates, and nowadays in Slaktattack, is travelling with us to Oslo. He came up on the train from Göteborg yesterday to hang out for a few days. The van is pretty cramped as it is and I'm wondering how we're gonna fit, but Martin ends up driving most of the way to Oslo, which is no end of help to Johan and Ronnie, who have it tougher than the rest of us over the next couple of days.
It takes a while to get out of Stockholm. For a start we have to get out and push the van back onto the main road, since it's stuck on the side street Ronnie had pulled into to let us in. Unbelievable! Feels like I've been here so many times... We do eventually get rolling and for a while the weather clears up and the roads don't look too bad. We make our way to Karlstad without incident, Martin at the wheel, cracking us up with some old stories. This van is definitely a lot warmer than the old one, which somewhat makes up for the lack of room in the back.
We stop for lunch at Max, Sweden's favourite fast food restuarant. As we're sat around eating, Johan mentions that he noticed the front tires are looking pretty worn. We decide we should check it out before we carry on, just to be on the safe side. We can see there is a tire place just across the other side of the motorway, so we head over there. The place is called Johnny Däck, which simply translates to Johnny Tires, and Jon thinks this is great. He insists on speaking to the people at reception on our behalf. He walks in and introduces himself as ”Johnny Victims” and politley asks to see Johnny Däck. The joke seems to be lost on the guy sitting behind the desk. We think it's great though.
A tire guy, don't know if it was Johnny or not, comes out and takes one look at the front wheels and explains to us that we have summer tires on the van. In this fucking weather! Thank you once again Mr. Van Hire! Not only is it illegal to be driving around on summer tires, it's highly dangerous. Johan calls the rental company once again and explains the situation. The guy who runs the rental company must be sweating every time Johan calls by now. By the time we get home, they're going to owe us money!
Johnny Däck don't have the replacement tires we need as it happens. We try three other places before we find the winter tires we need. And then we're on our way again. It's obvious by now we're gonna be late for the get in at the show. I think the venue will understand though, given the conditions we're travelling in.
Having left Stockholm at 8.30 this morning, we finally get to the venue in Oslo around 7.30pm. It's dark and snowing and we do't even have time to piss before we load in. Of all the beautiful cities we've already been to on this tour, Munchen is the only place we've had any time to hang out in. You go to all these great places and a lot of the time you don't get to see fuck all. Looking back, I'm grateful for the tour bus days we had in Speedhorn, that gave me the chance to explore and see a bit more.
We get into the venue after loading into the backstage area and I go check out the room. First thing I notice is that the place is by far the biggest room of the tour so far. I'm not sure I like the look of it. The second thing I notice is that the band currently soundchecking has Faust, the original drummer from Emperor (who served time for murder), behind the kit. The third thing I notice is that they're terrible. Still kind of cool to see old Faust banging the drums though, even if he looks like a school teacher these days.
It feels wonderful to finally be able to get into the dressing room and chill out for a while. I think the Municipal guys are at their hotel. Lucky bastards! After relaxing for a while I go off in search for an internet connection for my laptop. I somewhow get myself trapped inside a stairwell. Total Spinal Tap moment. I walk in and head upstairs, back to where I think the bar area is upstairs, and find myself on the wrong side of a locked door, whichever way I go. Even the door I came through has locked itself. It seems you need a card to unlock these things. I'm probably trapped there for around ten minutes, and I'm starting to need a shit. My mobile phone has no reception either. Just as I'm wondering what the fuck I'm gonna do, someone opens one of the doors, which happens to lead back out on to the snowy street. Totally confused I stumble, freezing cold, back into the venue the way we'd loaded in.
I get to check my mails. I immediately regret it. The first thing I notice is an email from Speedhorn's old accountant, with the heading, Speedhorn tax, urgent! My stomach turns over. This is the last thing I need now. I thought I was done taking responsibility for that fucking band. Thankfully, although the issue at hand is gonna cause me some hassle over the next few days, it's nothing major. Well, it kind of is, but our very kind, former accountant Tansy, who hasn't been paid for years, is helping us out with it, free of charge as usual. What an angel she is. How a hardcore band like Speedhorn ever got to the point where we needed an accountant is beyond me. Another weird chapter in the history of that band.
I head back down to the dressing room and hear that Faust's band is playing. They really are awful. I can't even bear to go and look. Another band plays after them, some band from Ireland who have now signed to Earache Records (why, oh why?). This band aren't my particular cup of tea either, although the Municipal guys seem to dig them. They seem a to be some kind of joke metal band to me, and the problem with that is that it's rarely funny, and even rarer that it's any good. Of course Municipal do things with a lot of tongue in cheek, but at least they have great songs to back it up. I head back into the dressing room and slump into the sofa, the bullshit with the UK tax authorities still playing on my mind.
It turns out the guy doing the in-house sound tonight is an English guy called Rob. It also turns out that he recognises me from the Speedhorn days. He tells me that he was at the shoot for our first video. Not only that, he tells me he did sound for us years ago at a venue in Southend, called Chinnery's. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was one of the worst gigs we ever played, largely in part to the awful sound we had on stage. I hope it wasn't him doing monitors that night in Southend... We chat quickly and laugh about the size of the world, as you do, and then we get on with the gig.
It's a strange show tonight. For a start the stage is fucking huge. There is a big barrier seperating the crowd and the band, and everything feels a bit dead. Even though the crowd is a fair size, the show feels like hard work. It seems the thought of the journey over the next couple of days is weighing down on everybody. I break a string during the third song, meaning I have to take it a bit easier for the rest of the set, which doesn't help the energy I'm lacking on stage tonight. We get through it ok though, and the gig is by no means a failure, it's just missing the buzz we've had the last few days. I think we've most likely been spoiled by how good the shows have been for us on this tour so far.
Martin was standing side stage during the show, and when I came off afterwards complaining it was hard work tonight, he laughed and told me he though it was awesome, saying the other shows on the tour so far must have been out of this world in that case. This is something I've experienced many times down the years. Somtimes you can come off stage really pleased with the gig and buzzing, only to find out someone else in the band feels they had a shit show. And vice versa.
Anyway, we cpack down and take advantage of the backstage shower whilst Waste play their show. Jamie, the Hatebreed singer, is hanging around in the dressing room. He seems like a nice enough guy. Our good friend Marco is also in town and hanging out, so I catch up with him for a while before I head out to the merch and relieve Ronnie so he can go get some sleep before we head off into the night.
There is this one really drunk guy who buys a hoodie from me. He's babbling on and I can only make out about half of what he says. I figure he's bought an lp earlier this evening from us, one of our limited tour edtion vinyls, and that he's coming to the show in London in a few days. I ”chat” to him for a while and then he leaves. He returns shortly afterwards, telling me he's lost the record somewhere and only has the cover left now. He staggers off again shortly thereafter, threatening to punch out whoever has stolen it from him. Steaming!
A while later Jon comes up to me. I think he's a bit drunk. He has his jaw dropped open and he looks extremely happy. Apparently he's just been introduced to Knut from Turbonegro, who is one of his favourite guitar players. Marco works for Turbo quite a lot so he made a dream come true for Jon. Apparently upon being introduced, Knut made a bowing gesture to Jon and told him he loved the show, to which Jon just walked off in stunned silence with a huge smile on his face. I once spent an evening with Knut and Happy Tom in Stockholm, when my good friend Joe was over, recording their album. It was a great night and they were real friendly guys. As most people know, Knut had gotten cancer a couple of years ago. He seems to be doing really well now though.
Since Dave is using our drum-kit tonight, we have to wait until Waste are done before we can head off. Not that we want to miss them play but ideally it would make sense for us to get out of here as soon as possible. I pack up the merch after they are done playing. I head backstage and the dressing room is packed with people, the vast majority being young girls. It seems like we're missing a party tonight but I don't think anyone cares.
We need to go. Next show is in Birmingham in two days time. We have to make it to Calais by 9.30 am Saturday morning, to catch the ferry we have booked. We've got six countries to travel through between here and there.
We load the van around 1am. A couple of the Waste guys come out and hug us all individually, telling us to drive safe. I'm looking forward to seeing them again in Birmingham.
We drive away from Oslo, Martin at the wheel again. It's snowing heavily...
Again, it's funny how time takes on it's own dimension when you're on tour. It was only ten days ago I kissed Jenny goodbye before the first leg of the tour, here we were again this morning. For me it felt like I had been gone for a month or so, for Jenny it probably felt like ten days...Not so strange that everything gets warped when you drink every day, eat sporadically and sleep is nothing more than a fleeting friend.
Since Jon lives close to me, we'd arranged for the guys to pick us by the pizzeria at the corner of my street. For once the weather forecast was spot on. It had indeed snowed all night and travel conditons were looking shitty. Funny how the weather people always seem to get it right when they predict shit weather. After waiting for a while in the cold, Ronnie finally came trudging up the hill in the new van. The other guys came walking up behind him shortly after, saying something about the van not making it up the hill in the snow, with them in the back of it. That can't be good, surely?
We have another extra passenger with us today. Martin, who played guitar in At the Gates, and nowadays in Slaktattack, is travelling with us to Oslo. He came up on the train from Göteborg yesterday to hang out for a few days. The van is pretty cramped as it is and I'm wondering how we're gonna fit, but Martin ends up driving most of the way to Oslo, which is no end of help to Johan and Ronnie, who have it tougher than the rest of us over the next couple of days.
It takes a while to get out of Stockholm. For a start we have to get out and push the van back onto the main road, since it's stuck on the side street Ronnie had pulled into to let us in. Unbelievable! Feels like I've been here so many times... We do eventually get rolling and for a while the weather clears up and the roads don't look too bad. We make our way to Karlstad without incident, Martin at the wheel, cracking us up with some old stories. This van is definitely a lot warmer than the old one, which somewhat makes up for the lack of room in the back.
We stop for lunch at Max, Sweden's favourite fast food restuarant. As we're sat around eating, Johan mentions that he noticed the front tires are looking pretty worn. We decide we should check it out before we carry on, just to be on the safe side. We can see there is a tire place just across the other side of the motorway, so we head over there. The place is called Johnny Däck, which simply translates to Johnny Tires, and Jon thinks this is great. He insists on speaking to the people at reception on our behalf. He walks in and introduces himself as ”Johnny Victims” and politley asks to see Johnny Däck. The joke seems to be lost on the guy sitting behind the desk. We think it's great though.
A tire guy, don't know if it was Johnny or not, comes out and takes one look at the front wheels and explains to us that we have summer tires on the van. In this fucking weather! Thank you once again Mr. Van Hire! Not only is it illegal to be driving around on summer tires, it's highly dangerous. Johan calls the rental company once again and explains the situation. The guy who runs the rental company must be sweating every time Johan calls by now. By the time we get home, they're going to owe us money!
Johnny Däck don't have the replacement tires we need as it happens. We try three other places before we find the winter tires we need. And then we're on our way again. It's obvious by now we're gonna be late for the get in at the show. I think the venue will understand though, given the conditions we're travelling in.
Having left Stockholm at 8.30 this morning, we finally get to the venue in Oslo around 7.30pm. It's dark and snowing and we do't even have time to piss before we load in. Of all the beautiful cities we've already been to on this tour, Munchen is the only place we've had any time to hang out in. You go to all these great places and a lot of the time you don't get to see fuck all. Looking back, I'm grateful for the tour bus days we had in Speedhorn, that gave me the chance to explore and see a bit more.
We get into the venue after loading into the backstage area and I go check out the room. First thing I notice is that the place is by far the biggest room of the tour so far. I'm not sure I like the look of it. The second thing I notice is that the band currently soundchecking has Faust, the original drummer from Emperor (who served time for murder), behind the kit. The third thing I notice is that they're terrible. Still kind of cool to see old Faust banging the drums though, even if he looks like a school teacher these days.
It feels wonderful to finally be able to get into the dressing room and chill out for a while. I think the Municipal guys are at their hotel. Lucky bastards! After relaxing for a while I go off in search for an internet connection for my laptop. I somewhow get myself trapped inside a stairwell. Total Spinal Tap moment. I walk in and head upstairs, back to where I think the bar area is upstairs, and find myself on the wrong side of a locked door, whichever way I go. Even the door I came through has locked itself. It seems you need a card to unlock these things. I'm probably trapped there for around ten minutes, and I'm starting to need a shit. My mobile phone has no reception either. Just as I'm wondering what the fuck I'm gonna do, someone opens one of the doors, which happens to lead back out on to the snowy street. Totally confused I stumble, freezing cold, back into the venue the way we'd loaded in.
I get to check my mails. I immediately regret it. The first thing I notice is an email from Speedhorn's old accountant, with the heading, Speedhorn tax, urgent! My stomach turns over. This is the last thing I need now. I thought I was done taking responsibility for that fucking band. Thankfully, although the issue at hand is gonna cause me some hassle over the next few days, it's nothing major. Well, it kind of is, but our very kind, former accountant Tansy, who hasn't been paid for years, is helping us out with it, free of charge as usual. What an angel she is. How a hardcore band like Speedhorn ever got to the point where we needed an accountant is beyond me. Another weird chapter in the history of that band.
I head back down to the dressing room and hear that Faust's band is playing. They really are awful. I can't even bear to go and look. Another band plays after them, some band from Ireland who have now signed to Earache Records (why, oh why?). This band aren't my particular cup of tea either, although the Municipal guys seem to dig them. They seem a to be some kind of joke metal band to me, and the problem with that is that it's rarely funny, and even rarer that it's any good. Of course Municipal do things with a lot of tongue in cheek, but at least they have great songs to back it up. I head back into the dressing room and slump into the sofa, the bullshit with the UK tax authorities still playing on my mind.
It turns out the guy doing the in-house sound tonight is an English guy called Rob. It also turns out that he recognises me from the Speedhorn days. He tells me that he was at the shoot for our first video. Not only that, he tells me he did sound for us years ago at a venue in Southend, called Chinnery's. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was one of the worst gigs we ever played, largely in part to the awful sound we had on stage. I hope it wasn't him doing monitors that night in Southend... We chat quickly and laugh about the size of the world, as you do, and then we get on with the gig.
It's a strange show tonight. For a start the stage is fucking huge. There is a big barrier seperating the crowd and the band, and everything feels a bit dead. Even though the crowd is a fair size, the show feels like hard work. It seems the thought of the journey over the next couple of days is weighing down on everybody. I break a string during the third song, meaning I have to take it a bit easier for the rest of the set, which doesn't help the energy I'm lacking on stage tonight. We get through it ok though, and the gig is by no means a failure, it's just missing the buzz we've had the last few days. I think we've most likely been spoiled by how good the shows have been for us on this tour so far.
Martin was standing side stage during the show, and when I came off afterwards complaining it was hard work tonight, he laughed and told me he though it was awesome, saying the other shows on the tour so far must have been out of this world in that case. This is something I've experienced many times down the years. Somtimes you can come off stage really pleased with the gig and buzzing, only to find out someone else in the band feels they had a shit show. And vice versa.
Anyway, we cpack down and take advantage of the backstage shower whilst Waste play their show. Jamie, the Hatebreed singer, is hanging around in the dressing room. He seems like a nice enough guy. Our good friend Marco is also in town and hanging out, so I catch up with him for a while before I head out to the merch and relieve Ronnie so he can go get some sleep before we head off into the night.
There is this one really drunk guy who buys a hoodie from me. He's babbling on and I can only make out about half of what he says. I figure he's bought an lp earlier this evening from us, one of our limited tour edtion vinyls, and that he's coming to the show in London in a few days. I ”chat” to him for a while and then he leaves. He returns shortly afterwards, telling me he's lost the record somewhere and only has the cover left now. He staggers off again shortly thereafter, threatening to punch out whoever has stolen it from him. Steaming!
A while later Jon comes up to me. I think he's a bit drunk. He has his jaw dropped open and he looks extremely happy. Apparently he's just been introduced to Knut from Turbonegro, who is one of his favourite guitar players. Marco works for Turbo quite a lot so he made a dream come true for Jon. Apparently upon being introduced, Knut made a bowing gesture to Jon and told him he loved the show, to which Jon just walked off in stunned silence with a huge smile on his face. I once spent an evening with Knut and Happy Tom in Stockholm, when my good friend Joe was over, recording their album. It was a great night and they were real friendly guys. As most people know, Knut had gotten cancer a couple of years ago. He seems to be doing really well now though.
Since Dave is using our drum-kit tonight, we have to wait until Waste are done before we can head off. Not that we want to miss them play but ideally it would make sense for us to get out of here as soon as possible. I pack up the merch after they are done playing. I head backstage and the dressing room is packed with people, the vast majority being young girls. It seems like we're missing a party tonight but I don't think anyone cares.
We need to go. Next show is in Birmingham in two days time. We have to make it to Calais by 9.30 am Saturday morning, to catch the ferry we have booked. We've got six countries to travel through between here and there.
We load the van around 1am. A couple of the Waste guys come out and hug us all individually, telling us to drive safe. I'm looking forward to seeing them again in Birmingham.
We drive away from Oslo, Martin at the wheel again. It's snowing heavily...
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Stockholm
Yesterday was spent, almost in its entirety, sitting on our arses in the van.
We were hoping to get into the club early and load out, so we could leave Hamburg by 10am at the latest, but that didn't happen. After banging on the door for roughly ten minutes, we gave in and headed to the nearest café to eat breakfast instead. Hopes of getting home at a reasonable hour and having an easy night on my sofa with Jenny and my dog Bonzo were pretty much fucked, as it was already 1pm by the time we eventually left.
Dave from Municipal had decided he wanted to travel to Stockholm with us so he would have the chance to check out our home city during the day tomorrow. Dave has quickly become a good friend of ours and it was fun to have someone else outside the band along for the ride. We chatted most of the way home and the long journey didn't feel to bad to be fair. I eventually walked through my door around 1.30am, my dog Bonzo, waiting at the door for me wagging his tail. Jenny had even made a pie. Funny home home life and tour life seperates itself the minute you walk through the door to the apartment.
A day at home today, re-charging the batteries, will prove to be incredibly valueable over the coming days, I am sure. We have around thirty hours of van time over the next two and a half days! A couple of nights in my own bed and a day spent hanging out with Bonzo was exactly what I needed.
We leave early tomorrow for Oslo. The weather forecast predicts a ton of snow tonight and the journey has the very real possibilty of being somewhat sketchy. The roads in Norway are not the best. From Oslo we head on the longest route of the tour. Whilst Municipal fly on to play a show in Bergen on Friday, we will be driving through the night and next day to catch a ferry from Calais to Dover on the Saturday morning, eventually arriving in Birmingham sometime Saturday afterrnoon, where we will meet back up with Municipal. I mean, Bergen Friday, Birmingham Saturday? I don't understand what map these booker people are looking at when they plan these things...sucks we had to cancel the Bergen show but we can't afford the flight or the hassle of hiring a new van and equipment in the UK.
The show tonight was a strange experience. Home-town gigs are always a little weird, since a large portion of the crowd are usually friends. The rest of the guys in the band were all super nervous. It wasn't quite the same for me but I understood where they were coming from. What was weirdest for me was probably the fact that the show was at Debaser, where I worked behind the bar for almost five years, and I still have a lot friends who work here. Johan still works here so it may have been even weirder for him.
The show was really great though, as just about all of the shows on this tour have been. The place was packed by the time we went on, and even then there were still people piling in through the doors. I felt bad that our friends in Beast had played a little too early and should have played to more people than they did. It was fun watching Modde play in another band, I've only seen him with Nitad before. He had this great dance thing going on which was I was really digging. I was pumped for the show after watching them.
The crowd really seemed into the show. There were a lot of faces down the front I didn't recognise and a lot of faces of to the side and a little further back that I did. Everyone seemed to be smiling though. There was this one kid down the front who was so into it that he grabbed the mic stand away from Johan and sang a verse at one point, not bothering to put the mic band back in place. A while later he takes a running lunge at the stage and slams his fist down into my foot. The mood was so good though that the kid just cracked me up. Funny the things people do when music takes over. Funny how personal mood changes day to day as to how we react to some of the nonsense that goes on with crowds. I guess you get wound up a hell of a lot easier when you're short on sleep and constantly floating somewhere between hungover and pissed.
After the show I met up with a lot friends, although didn't really have much time speaking to any of them. I guess that's the way it is with home gigs. So many friends, so little time. Less fun was the on-going van problems. We'd apparently fixed it with the rental company that we'd be recieving a new van at the venue tonight. So we'd prepared the broken piece of shit we've had so far, so that all the stuff was ready to throw over into the new van. The guy was supposed to come with it about an hour before we were going to play, that obviously did not happen. He must have come at some point during the show. I checked with Ronnie after the gig and he told me that the new van had turned up and he'd taken care of the gear. He also warned me that the new van was way smaller than the last one we had. He wasn't fucking joking! How we were gonna pack this van later on was beyond anyone's guess.
Dave apparently had a very succesful day in town. The guys showed him around, he got tattoed, bought some dark ale that he loves, bought some cakes. He was glowing when I met him earlier this evening. One thing really cracked me up whilst we were packing our impossibly small van after the show. LG from Entombed was hanging around outside. I noticed Dave hovering behind him. He nervously crept up behind him and introduced himself, explaining he was a huge fan from way back. Funny picture. LG, stood there in his usual get-up, (painter's jeans, football manager jacket, wooly hat), looking a little confused whilst offering his hand back. Both these guys are legends in their own right, but Dave's humility speaks volumes about the kind of guy he is. Great scene.
We somehow packed the van. There is no room left for a sleeper's seat, as we previously had in the broken van. That's gonna be a killer on the guys driving over the next couple of nights. The new van is at least warm. You can't have everyting I guess.
Myself and Jenny shared a cab home with Jon and his girlfriend Ana not long after the van was sorted. Got home early, around 1am, and re-packed my bag in perperation for the second half of the tour. The guys are picking us up around 8am, we're gonna have to take it slow and careful on the road to Oslo. I hardly felt like sleeping as I lay in my own bed, it was nice just enjoying it while it lasted. The thought of spending the next two nights in the van are not the most appealing. I'm sure the shows will more than make it worthwhile though...
We were hoping to get into the club early and load out, so we could leave Hamburg by 10am at the latest, but that didn't happen. After banging on the door for roughly ten minutes, we gave in and headed to the nearest café to eat breakfast instead. Hopes of getting home at a reasonable hour and having an easy night on my sofa with Jenny and my dog Bonzo were pretty much fucked, as it was already 1pm by the time we eventually left.
Dave from Municipal had decided he wanted to travel to Stockholm with us so he would have the chance to check out our home city during the day tomorrow. Dave has quickly become a good friend of ours and it was fun to have someone else outside the band along for the ride. We chatted most of the way home and the long journey didn't feel to bad to be fair. I eventually walked through my door around 1.30am, my dog Bonzo, waiting at the door for me wagging his tail. Jenny had even made a pie. Funny home home life and tour life seperates itself the minute you walk through the door to the apartment.
A day at home today, re-charging the batteries, will prove to be incredibly valueable over the coming days, I am sure. We have around thirty hours of van time over the next two and a half days! A couple of nights in my own bed and a day spent hanging out with Bonzo was exactly what I needed.
We leave early tomorrow for Oslo. The weather forecast predicts a ton of snow tonight and the journey has the very real possibilty of being somewhat sketchy. The roads in Norway are not the best. From Oslo we head on the longest route of the tour. Whilst Municipal fly on to play a show in Bergen on Friday, we will be driving through the night and next day to catch a ferry from Calais to Dover on the Saturday morning, eventually arriving in Birmingham sometime Saturday afterrnoon, where we will meet back up with Municipal. I mean, Bergen Friday, Birmingham Saturday? I don't understand what map these booker people are looking at when they plan these things...sucks we had to cancel the Bergen show but we can't afford the flight or the hassle of hiring a new van and equipment in the UK.
The show tonight was a strange experience. Home-town gigs are always a little weird, since a large portion of the crowd are usually friends. The rest of the guys in the band were all super nervous. It wasn't quite the same for me but I understood where they were coming from. What was weirdest for me was probably the fact that the show was at Debaser, where I worked behind the bar for almost five years, and I still have a lot friends who work here. Johan still works here so it may have been even weirder for him.
The show was really great though, as just about all of the shows on this tour have been. The place was packed by the time we went on, and even then there were still people piling in through the doors. I felt bad that our friends in Beast had played a little too early and should have played to more people than they did. It was fun watching Modde play in another band, I've only seen him with Nitad before. He had this great dance thing going on which was I was really digging. I was pumped for the show after watching them.
The crowd really seemed into the show. There were a lot of faces down the front I didn't recognise and a lot of faces of to the side and a little further back that I did. Everyone seemed to be smiling though. There was this one kid down the front who was so into it that he grabbed the mic stand away from Johan and sang a verse at one point, not bothering to put the mic band back in place. A while later he takes a running lunge at the stage and slams his fist down into my foot. The mood was so good though that the kid just cracked me up. Funny the things people do when music takes over. Funny how personal mood changes day to day as to how we react to some of the nonsense that goes on with crowds. I guess you get wound up a hell of a lot easier when you're short on sleep and constantly floating somewhere between hungover and pissed.
After the show I met up with a lot friends, although didn't really have much time speaking to any of them. I guess that's the way it is with home gigs. So many friends, so little time. Less fun was the on-going van problems. We'd apparently fixed it with the rental company that we'd be recieving a new van at the venue tonight. So we'd prepared the broken piece of shit we've had so far, so that all the stuff was ready to throw over into the new van. The guy was supposed to come with it about an hour before we were going to play, that obviously did not happen. He must have come at some point during the show. I checked with Ronnie after the gig and he told me that the new van had turned up and he'd taken care of the gear. He also warned me that the new van was way smaller than the last one we had. He wasn't fucking joking! How we were gonna pack this van later on was beyond anyone's guess.
Dave apparently had a very succesful day in town. The guys showed him around, he got tattoed, bought some dark ale that he loves, bought some cakes. He was glowing when I met him earlier this evening. One thing really cracked me up whilst we were packing our impossibly small van after the show. LG from Entombed was hanging around outside. I noticed Dave hovering behind him. He nervously crept up behind him and introduced himself, explaining he was a huge fan from way back. Funny picture. LG, stood there in his usual get-up, (painter's jeans, football manager jacket, wooly hat), looking a little confused whilst offering his hand back. Both these guys are legends in their own right, but Dave's humility speaks volumes about the kind of guy he is. Great scene.
We somehow packed the van. There is no room left for a sleeper's seat, as we previously had in the broken van. That's gonna be a killer on the guys driving over the next couple of nights. The new van is at least warm. You can't have everyting I guess.
Myself and Jenny shared a cab home with Jon and his girlfriend Ana not long after the van was sorted. Got home early, around 1am, and re-packed my bag in perperation for the second half of the tour. The guys are picking us up around 8am, we're gonna have to take it slow and careful on the road to Oslo. I hardly felt like sleeping as I lay in my own bed, it was nice just enjoying it while it lasted. The thought of spending the next two nights in the van are not the most appealing. I'm sure the shows will more than make it worthwhile though...
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Hamburg
Today takes a while to get going.
We share breakfast with the guys from AK44, they again show us great kindness as they make a tray of great tasting, vegan pancakes. The sound guy from the club offers to take a look at our van before we call anyone, to see if there's anything he can do for us. There isn't, in fact our van almost kills the battery in his little VW Camper van, so instead, we call in the experts.
Most of the day seems to spent waiting around in various places. Sometime around mid afternoon, after one call out mechanic, one Ford garage and two new car batteries, we get on our way to Hamburg. We're gonna have to change rental vans in Stockholm when we're home, so as long as we make it back tomorrow, we're ok.
The drive today is silent. We've only been driving an hour before the sun disappears and darkness engulfs the van. We sit there in the dark, freezing cold, watching the GPS arrival time tick down.
It's just before doors when we turn up, so we load in straight away and throw everything off to the side of the stage. It's a small club tonight with a low ceiling and the low stage is easilly the tightest of the tour so far. I get the feeling it's going to be a sweaty show.
We seem to be having good luck with the food on this tour. Most of the time when we play our own shows the food sucks. I've lost count of the times we've had the delight of eating punk chilli, that have endless amounts of ingredients in them and a big zero amount of taste. I don't know how that is achieved... My wife is vegetarian and we don't seem to have that problem at home. It's called SALT. There are of course, exceptions. Anyway, we're getting good food on this tour, tonight being no exception. It's just what we need after the boring van drive and we quickly wash it down with a couple of beers.
All three bands are staying in dormitories above the venue after the show. I sense there's gonna be a party. There is a bar above the gig room that has a ping pong table set up in the middle and one of the guys who hung out at the hostel in Berlin the other night, Goran, is playing records. It's gonna be a fun night for sure.
As expected, the room is completely packed out and the stage is intensely hot. Reproach play what will be there last show on the tour for a while. From here they hop off since they can't afford the trip to Scandinavia and the UK, so they'll meet up with us again for the last two shows in Holland. They play a good show as always and by the time they're done I'm ready for it.
We kick off into our first song, Scars, I really have to watch that I don't smash Johan in the head with my guitar. I don't think he'd appreciate that somehow. As we're playing the second song, Who the Fuck Are We?, the packed audience members start pouring on to the stage. Some over excited kids at the front, who are obviously really drunk, push Johan's mic stand so that it falls halfway down, to around about his stomach area. Johan has to spend a large part of the song bent over double singing into his now dwarf sized mic stand. It looks pretty funny and I play out the end of ”Who the Fuck Are We?”, laughing to myself.
It soon becomes obvious that the guys down the front are deliberately fucking with Johan's stuff. And they're starting to get on my tits. They are falling on the stage constantly and screaming ”Municipal Waste!” at us between every break in the songs. Obviously that's fine, we're big fans of the band ourselves, but I think that maybe they could show a bit more tact.
These kids are really drunk and they are dancing around apparently having a good time, but by now I've decided I don't like them. They're right in front of me throwing their long hair around and I charge at them with my guitar and play it right in their face. The strings are literally carresing their eye brows and there are currently no riffs coming out my amp. They respond by throwing beer at me, which I happily take since it's so fucking hot on stage, any fluid is welcome. A couple of songs later one of the long hairs grabs my guitar neck whilst I'm playing and pushes it at me. Whilst he's bent over head-banging, I take the opportunity and kick him the back of the head. He sticks his fingers up at me, I blow him a kiss.
This is actually what I call fun. I have to be perfectly honest, if the guy at the front was a big bastard, I wouldn't have went near him. I know my limits.
Anyway, the show is hard but very enjoyable. We can't even get close to seeing the Waste show after us, so we hang out by the merch in the bar area and watch it on the projector screen they have there. I heard Tony was feeling a bit feisty after watching us and is ready for a bit of a rumble. He's only a little guy but I imagine him to be a bit tasty in a fight. After a few of their songs I hear him warning some guy, ”Don't even try any of that shit you were pulling with Victims!”. Sure enough a few songs later I hear the sound of his mike smashing the guy in the head.
Even though it's Monday night, there are loads of people here who are fucking wasted. One kid in particular makes me laugh. I first spot him stood on the bench next to the Reproach merch guy, windmill head-banging his long hair around. After Bjorn, Reproache's merch guy, has enough of getting sweaty hair in his mouth, he kindly asks him to stop. The long haired kid falls down to the floor, taking half of Reproache's merch with him.
He then heads for the emergency exit, which clearly has a steel fence blockading it. He attempts, to no avail, make his way through. Me and Johan crack up. He then asks what we're laughing at and I tell him. He stands there taking in air. It's freezing cold outside and soon a fog of cold air blows into the building, it actually snakes its way past us. Me and Johan again think this is pretty amusing and as we're laughing the long haired metal kid comes up in my face and asks me if I'm laughing at him. I tell him that this time, I'm actually laughing at the weird loking fog that had came in, to which he tells me that he thinks it looks like the fog at Auschwitz. I tell him at this point our conversation is over. He pays no attention to that. I'm caught listening to his drunken ramblings for at least another half an hour. It turns out he's not a racist, he's just proud of Germany's strentgh. I tell him that although I'm impressed by his adeptness of the english language, his use of it is badly misplaced. Johan finally resuces me by telling me he needs my help at the bar.
After the show, we all hang out in the bar upstairs. There are lods of people up there. Goran is playing some great songs and there are bunch of people playing the game, Killer, on the ping pong table. Our crowd is represented by Andy, Ryan, Lewis and Tim from Reproach. We all have fun cheering them on as they drunkenly run around the table trying to hit the ball back over the net. The beers are flowing and we're having a great time.
There are yet another couple of annoying, over the top drunks, hanging around. There are these two guys dancing around and just falling into people constantly. One bangs right into Tim whilst he's stood there innocently watching the ping pong. He almost goes flying. What the fuck is up with these guys? At one point in the night I point out to one of the guys that he is being a pain in the arse, safe in the knowledge that I have plenty of back up here should anything happen. It doesn't, thankfully.
We have a great time hanging out at the bar with all the guys on tour. We're lucky to be on tour with such good people. Even the Reproach drummer, who didn't make the best impression on us at the start of the tour, is actually a very nice guy. I guess he just had an off night in Stuttgart a few days ago.
Funny how time turns to mush on tour. Stuttgart, which was only last Wednesday, already feels like months ago. Tomorrow, we're making the long drive back to Stockholm. Municipal have another day off on tour. We did originaly try to arrange a gig in Jönköping for tomorrow, but that didn't end up happening, and now I'm pretty glad we'll be home for the night before we play our home town. We'll be home late, but even so, it's nice to spend a couple of nights in my own bed.
Myself and Andy are amongst the last up when we go to bed around 3am. Considering the amount of beers I've drank tonight, I don't actually feel that drunk. I lie in bed, looking forward to seeing Jenny and my dog Bonzo tomorrow. I hope we can get going as early as possile and we get home at a reasonable time. The Liverpool game is on tv at 9pm, wouldn't mind catching it...
We share breakfast with the guys from AK44, they again show us great kindness as they make a tray of great tasting, vegan pancakes. The sound guy from the club offers to take a look at our van before we call anyone, to see if there's anything he can do for us. There isn't, in fact our van almost kills the battery in his little VW Camper van, so instead, we call in the experts.
Most of the day seems to spent waiting around in various places. Sometime around mid afternoon, after one call out mechanic, one Ford garage and two new car batteries, we get on our way to Hamburg. We're gonna have to change rental vans in Stockholm when we're home, so as long as we make it back tomorrow, we're ok.
The drive today is silent. We've only been driving an hour before the sun disappears and darkness engulfs the van. We sit there in the dark, freezing cold, watching the GPS arrival time tick down.
It's just before doors when we turn up, so we load in straight away and throw everything off to the side of the stage. It's a small club tonight with a low ceiling and the low stage is easilly the tightest of the tour so far. I get the feeling it's going to be a sweaty show.
We seem to be having good luck with the food on this tour. Most of the time when we play our own shows the food sucks. I've lost count of the times we've had the delight of eating punk chilli, that have endless amounts of ingredients in them and a big zero amount of taste. I don't know how that is achieved... My wife is vegetarian and we don't seem to have that problem at home. It's called SALT. There are of course, exceptions. Anyway, we're getting good food on this tour, tonight being no exception. It's just what we need after the boring van drive and we quickly wash it down with a couple of beers.
All three bands are staying in dormitories above the venue after the show. I sense there's gonna be a party. There is a bar above the gig room that has a ping pong table set up in the middle and one of the guys who hung out at the hostel in Berlin the other night, Goran, is playing records. It's gonna be a fun night for sure.
As expected, the room is completely packed out and the stage is intensely hot. Reproach play what will be there last show on the tour for a while. From here they hop off since they can't afford the trip to Scandinavia and the UK, so they'll meet up with us again for the last two shows in Holland. They play a good show as always and by the time they're done I'm ready for it.
We kick off into our first song, Scars, I really have to watch that I don't smash Johan in the head with my guitar. I don't think he'd appreciate that somehow. As we're playing the second song, Who the Fuck Are We?, the packed audience members start pouring on to the stage. Some over excited kids at the front, who are obviously really drunk, push Johan's mic stand so that it falls halfway down, to around about his stomach area. Johan has to spend a large part of the song bent over double singing into his now dwarf sized mic stand. It looks pretty funny and I play out the end of ”Who the Fuck Are We?”, laughing to myself.
It soon becomes obvious that the guys down the front are deliberately fucking with Johan's stuff. And they're starting to get on my tits. They are falling on the stage constantly and screaming ”Municipal Waste!” at us between every break in the songs. Obviously that's fine, we're big fans of the band ourselves, but I think that maybe they could show a bit more tact.
These kids are really drunk and they are dancing around apparently having a good time, but by now I've decided I don't like them. They're right in front of me throwing their long hair around and I charge at them with my guitar and play it right in their face. The strings are literally carresing their eye brows and there are currently no riffs coming out my amp. They respond by throwing beer at me, which I happily take since it's so fucking hot on stage, any fluid is welcome. A couple of songs later one of the long hairs grabs my guitar neck whilst I'm playing and pushes it at me. Whilst he's bent over head-banging, I take the opportunity and kick him the back of the head. He sticks his fingers up at me, I blow him a kiss.
This is actually what I call fun. I have to be perfectly honest, if the guy at the front was a big bastard, I wouldn't have went near him. I know my limits.
Anyway, the show is hard but very enjoyable. We can't even get close to seeing the Waste show after us, so we hang out by the merch in the bar area and watch it on the projector screen they have there. I heard Tony was feeling a bit feisty after watching us and is ready for a bit of a rumble. He's only a little guy but I imagine him to be a bit tasty in a fight. After a few of their songs I hear him warning some guy, ”Don't even try any of that shit you were pulling with Victims!”. Sure enough a few songs later I hear the sound of his mike smashing the guy in the head.
Even though it's Monday night, there are loads of people here who are fucking wasted. One kid in particular makes me laugh. I first spot him stood on the bench next to the Reproach merch guy, windmill head-banging his long hair around. After Bjorn, Reproache's merch guy, has enough of getting sweaty hair in his mouth, he kindly asks him to stop. The long haired kid falls down to the floor, taking half of Reproache's merch with him.
He then heads for the emergency exit, which clearly has a steel fence blockading it. He attempts, to no avail, make his way through. Me and Johan crack up. He then asks what we're laughing at and I tell him. He stands there taking in air. It's freezing cold outside and soon a fog of cold air blows into the building, it actually snakes its way past us. Me and Johan again think this is pretty amusing and as we're laughing the long haired metal kid comes up in my face and asks me if I'm laughing at him. I tell him that this time, I'm actually laughing at the weird loking fog that had came in, to which he tells me that he thinks it looks like the fog at Auschwitz. I tell him at this point our conversation is over. He pays no attention to that. I'm caught listening to his drunken ramblings for at least another half an hour. It turns out he's not a racist, he's just proud of Germany's strentgh. I tell him that although I'm impressed by his adeptness of the english language, his use of it is badly misplaced. Johan finally resuces me by telling me he needs my help at the bar.
After the show, we all hang out in the bar upstairs. There are lods of people up there. Goran is playing some great songs and there are bunch of people playing the game, Killer, on the ping pong table. Our crowd is represented by Andy, Ryan, Lewis and Tim from Reproach. We all have fun cheering them on as they drunkenly run around the table trying to hit the ball back over the net. The beers are flowing and we're having a great time.
There are yet another couple of annoying, over the top drunks, hanging around. There are these two guys dancing around and just falling into people constantly. One bangs right into Tim whilst he's stood there innocently watching the ping pong. He almost goes flying. What the fuck is up with these guys? At one point in the night I point out to one of the guys that he is being a pain in the arse, safe in the knowledge that I have plenty of back up here should anything happen. It doesn't, thankfully.
We have a great time hanging out at the bar with all the guys on tour. We're lucky to be on tour with such good people. Even the Reproach drummer, who didn't make the best impression on us at the start of the tour, is actually a very nice guy. I guess he just had an off night in Stuttgart a few days ago.
Funny how time turns to mush on tour. Stuttgart, which was only last Wednesday, already feels like months ago. Tomorrow, we're making the long drive back to Stockholm. Municipal have another day off on tour. We did originaly try to arrange a gig in Jönköping for tomorrow, but that didn't end up happening, and now I'm pretty glad we'll be home for the night before we play our home town. We'll be home late, but even so, it's nice to spend a couple of nights in my own bed.
Myself and Andy are amongst the last up when we go to bed around 3am. Considering the amount of beers I've drank tonight, I don't actually feel that drunk. I lie in bed, looking forward to seeing Jenny and my dog Bonzo tomorrow. I hope we can get going as early as possile and we get home at a reasonable time. The Liverpool game is on tv at 9pm, wouldn't mind catching it...
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