25/06/2009
I’m sitting on the waves on the way back from Paris, reflecting on the previous 5 days. Some of it’s been great, and there have been some little moments of emotion and fatigue. This is a moment of fatigue.
We’re on the overnight ferry from Le Havre to Portsmouth. It’s an eight hour journey. People on the floors are in sleeping bags. Prices in the shop and restaurant are inflated and the food is covered in thick skin and the meat dried of all moisture. I need to take my mind elsewhere. Recounting the days that took me here would help.
Our first day we played an acoustic set on the London Eye for a Bella Union internet special. There was a congregation at the bottom of the wheel with Ohbijou, The Low Anthem , the Acorn and us. Each tuning strings and playing allsorts. Harmoniums, brass, percussion and guitars scattered over the concrete flats.
A group of young passers-by stopped to add a freestyle rap over Oubijou testing their mini-drum kit out.
It was a difficult time for Chris. He had to overcome his fear of both enclosed spaces and heights, but I think we just about managed to pull off something special in the sky in the midst of terror.
The next day it was Leeds’ turn to receive us. We played the Faversham and read our NME review out loud to our audience, “ Self indulgent choral folk wankery”.
An insightful piece of music writing, dripping with comparisons to nothing other than a Lamb Rogan Josh. How they laughed at this in Leeds :)
We trundled on the next day to The Great Escape in Brighton. We played a Drowned In Sound stage at The Honey Club . It was packed and hot. After our gig we tried to go see the Twilight Sad, but it was one in-one out and the weather was beginning to take a turn for the worse. So we all headed back to the hotel for a few beers. We played the Freebutt the next day, and had some time to wait before the next gig in the evening. We spent that time in The Heart and Hands on the recommendation of a friend. The pub had a great atmosphere, as the rain smashed holes in the road outside. China Girl by David Bowie played on the Jukebox and we drank Guinness and beer. Then we did an acoustic set for the Noah and The Whale after-show party.
Exeter was next in the list, followed by Paris. We arrived in Paris for the Bella Union party. After sound-check and a few refreshing beverages we were ready for the show. We watched on as Ohbijou and Low anthem made some incredible noise for the people there. It was our turn next. The first beat of our first track was destroyed by a drum kit malfunction, and Gary proceeded to break a string, and the bass or one of the amps crackled, and we battled through the gig like an overgrowth filled with negative Supermen. We overcame the beast, and completed level 5.
The dressing room was packed with happy faces after the show as all three bands crammed in to join in a version of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” . It was an amazing night of bands, and topped off with some beers by the waterside in the dark. We said our Goodbyes to Ohbijou and Low Anthem, and headed for our hotel.
Today, four of us went to the centre of Paris to Shakespeare and Company book-shop, and then sat in the park with a can of Sprite. We pondered whether poodles lived in the wild at some point, and also , much later, began to talk about existence, space and time again. A pre-occupation and a half.
Everyone’s asleep on the boat now, and all I can hear is a low humming noise, and the rattle of someone’s jewellery in the dark. Time for bed.
06/04/2009
17 March 2009
“Girlie you shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers. You never know what you’re gonna
get”
It had just turned mid-night: transforming the 16th day of March into the
17th day. I just finished watching a pre-recorded episode of the new 24.
Then finished packing my bag with some stuff to keep me occupied on the
plane.
I went to bed and got up 3 hours later to go to Austin for SXSW 2009.
Nobody wants to hear about the flights, transfers, customs, aeroplane
pretzels, the three connecting flights, and the fact that a plane crash
could have almost depleted the entire Scottish music industry in one go
(everyone was on that plane).
On arrival we were keen to meet up with the people that agreed to let us
stay with them over SXSW. We hooked up with them through the SXSW housing
programme, and we were looking forward to getting to their house and having
a few relaxing beers.
The luggage trolley creaked along under the weight of our oversized baggage
and instruments, until we came across Caroline. She was our host, and sent
us a photo of her so we’d know what she looked like.
She was wearing a massive big badge that read, “Spank Me I’m Irish”. It was
St Patrick’s Day after all. She asked us just to call her Lola, and led us
outside to get in the trucks back to her house.
She spoke about a million words a minute and was so enthusiastic I thought
her head was going to pop off and form a disco ball in the sky. We were
tired and excited.
We stopped off for some beers and opted for the local beer Shiner Bock. Gary
was panting happily in the back of the truck, sitting where her three dogs
usually sit. Covered in hair and that sweet dogly smell.
After running a few red lights, and careering over some speed bumps, we drew
up to our final destination.
You never know what you’re going to get when you choose to be housed over
SXSW using the housing programme. We weren’t really ready for what we got.
When we first walked into Lola’s house it was majestic, slightly creepy,
very dusty, and cool. We were first met by ornamental glass cases filled
with vast collections of Golliwog dolls. Lola showed us into the bedroom
where two of us would be settling for the night. I glanced in for a moment
and moved on, only noticing that it was dimly lit and had masks on the
walls. The house was like a museum, which had been arranged in a slipshod
manner by an escaped mental patient. Old burlesque books and batman clocks,
snoopy figurines, fetish paraphernalia, nude statuettes, an old Freda
picture in a frame, Robert crumb lunchboxes and comics, as well as a very
varied range of pornography strewn around, casually and unashamedly.
Kinda cool, kinda weird, and a bit unkempt. That was my initial reaction.
We went into the lounge for a few beers and a getting to know you session
with our new hosts.
There was Carol (Lola’s friend) dressed in a completely green tracksuit and
green sun-visor (It was St.Patricks day after all).
There was Dave, who looked like Cheech Marin’s big brother, and who kindly
came to help pick us all up from the airport.
And there was Monty. Monty was like “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski: Talked
like him, acted like him, looked like him, and smoked like him.
In conversation, Gary asked Monty what his hobbies were. After much umming
and ahhh-ing, Lola interjected with “Yknow Monty doesn’t really have much
time for hobbies with two girlfriends. I guess it uses a lot of his energy.”
Then I asked him what he does on Valentines day , “ I suppose you can kill
two birds with one stone?”
Having not really realised what I’d said at first, and the fact that Monty
didn’t really react at all, there was a short silence.
We were living with swingers for the week, and the third member of the
threesome would be arriving the next day. So, off to bed for the five of us
We went into the bedroom to lay down our bags, and stuff. So we switched on
the main light in the room to see what we were doing. With pride of place in
the middle of the bedroom was a roof – mounted sex swing. There were
numerous outfits, masks , rope, and various restraints hanging on the
cupboard doors. There was a “Mighty Mouse” quilt draped over something large
on the far-side of the room. Not being very well disguised, we unveiled a
velvet covered spanking bench from it’s Mighty Mouse drapery.
The jet-lag was setting in and even in our unexpected surroundings we’d need
to get some sleep. Lights out.
Ryan