Hello you. . .
This tour blog has been uploaded on myspace.com/cajita and on insidenokiamusic.com in four separate chunks.
This is my website and I can do what I want. Here it is in its entirety.
Tuesday 18th January
When I was about 9 years old, I made a remote control car. I used to dismantle electrical goods just to see what was inside. I had no intention of putting them back together or fixing some imagined problem. . .I just wanted to make low grade, and ultimately pretty shabby, toys out of them. To this end, I broke open two Walkmans (which I got in serious trouble for - my Mum rarely shared my radical ideas for product enhancement), took out their tiny motors and attached wheels to each one. Then I mounted them on a piece of balsa wood and ran tiny wires out of them - one to each hand, where I held an AA battery in each clammy, youthful paw. The resulting "car" would go forward when I touched the bare wires onto both batteries, and off to the side when I touched the wires to only one battery. It was great, and had only two major drawbacks. The wires were short, so I was often to be found running around the house after my bit of wood, bumping into furniture and generally making a nuisance of myself. They were also - as I mentioned - bare wires, which meant that every time I wanted the 'car' to move, I would burn my thumbs quite badly.
Still, that piece of electrified balsa wood was at least 20% more ergonomically designed, and at least 50% safer than the flying coffin I am writing this in.
There are 18 people on board this flight to Bremen, Germany. 18 businessmen. The sort of people who refer to each other only by their surnames and say things like "This is Hardacre from the Bristol office. People who upset him don't stay alive for long". I honestly, genuinely heard a man say this tonight. What with the turbulence, the single, seemingly overwhelmed steward, the businessmen and the tiny plane, I've been contemplating death over Europe quite a bit over the last couple of hours.
The conclusion I've come to is this: if this plane should plunge into the ocean, at least I'll die doing what I love: Hurtling towards the ground in a big metal tube, surrounded by dicks.
First gig tomorrow. Amsterdam. Let's hope I make it.
Wednesday 19th January
Well, I made it. Got picked up at the airport by the guy who's putting on this tour. He's a man called Heiko, and without him, I (and the other musicians on this tour) would be lost. He's booked the gigs and told us how to get there and what to expect. There are two other acts on the same circuit as me - a band called Outroads from Sheffield and a solo act called Astrid's Farm from Hamburg. It looks like we'll all get along, I think.
Well, they didn't seem instantly disgusted by my sarcasm and potty-mouth, anyway. That's a good start.
Thomas (Astrid's Farm) has a beaten up old Volvo, so we'll be using that to get from gig to gig. First stop is Amsterdam.
I always thought it was just tourists that smoked themselves senseless in Amsterdam, and that regular Dutch folks kind of looked down on that sort of thing. Not so, apparently. The owner of the cafe/bar/bike rental shop that we are playing in tonight appears to be half-baked at 3.30pm, even managing to set fire to a tea-towel during our soundcheck.
As it happens, the turn-out is pretty low tonight, which is no bad thing, as the three acts have a chance to suss each other out before the three week tour starts properly. I immediately get nervous. The other two acts are purely acoustic. Astrid's Farm is a guy with a beautifully clear voice and a song-writing style that leans towards Paul McCartney. Outroads normally play as a six- or seven-piece, but for this tour they're stripped down to two - a gravelly-voiced guitarist/singer named Geoff and a slide guitarist/harmonica player named Eddy. It's a simple set-up, and they're really very good. I, on the other hand, have an electric guitar, a synth, two midi-controllers, a laptop, three loopers and a sackful of cables. So. . .how is this going to work?
Thursday 20th January
Gig last night was OK, but not great. Think I need to rethink my approach to this tour before it starts properly. Resolve only to play the big electronica set when it's appropriate. Need to come up with acoustic versions of some songs pretty cocking quickly. After the gig, as none of us particularly wanted to get wasted, we decided to head down to the red light district to see if we could make some quick money busking. Now. . .I've never busked. The idea scares me, frankly. Don't particularly want to be that close to the people I'm playing to. . .what if they really don't like it? Anyway, I was persuaded by Geoff and Eddy. They've done it before and are up for doing as much playing here as possible, which is a good attitude, so I think I'll adopt it too.
Turns out that busking is great fun. And a bit of a money-maker. We made more money in 40 minutes of busking to pot-heads than we did from the gig. We'll be doing this again, I hope.
We were joined today by a lovely girl from Estonia called Katri. . .she'll be documenting the tour for a blog, taking photos and filming us and generally capturing all of our disgusting habits for posterity. We should have lots of footage from this. Looking forward to making all my friends sit down and watch it interminably.
Today is a two gig day, both of which are in a beautiful Dutch city called Groningen. The one in a record shop in the daytime goes by pretty uneventfully. I try a couple of acoustic versions and a couple of semi-acoustic ones using two loop pedals. They seem to go down OK, so I'll keep that in mind. Tonight's show is in a club called Platformtheater. . .
Friday 21st January
Wake up late. Really late. We've got a gig in Germany tonight and we need to go back to the club and pick up our stuff. Dry mouth. Very dry mouth. Last night turned into a big party. We all played well I think. I did a full electronica set that seemed to go well. One small downer: after my normal set, they asked for another song (an 'encore', I believe it's called). . .I wasn't prepared, and did an ill-advised, just-guitar version of my song "Target". Shouldn't have, I don't think. It wasn't very good. Should have left them wanting more. Must remember that too. We all had a few tequilas after the show, then the owner asked for more music, so Outroads did another short set and I joined them onstage for a few. Sang the chorus of one of their songs - "Gravey" - with them. Brilliant fun. Sold a few CDs too. Then we sat up drinking until the small hours together. We all seem to get on really well. This tour's shaping up nicely.
In Schwanewede tonight. No idea where that is. I have no sense of direction, and I'm not about to start growing one now. Luckily, Eddy doesn't seem to have one either, so I don't feel so bad. Thomas and Geoff, on the other hand, seem to be able to find their way around without our help, so it's fine. It also appears that Eddy and I share a love of bad puns and jokes that don't really work. I think we're going to start annoying the others soon. . .
Saturday 22nd January
Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I feel rough. I haven't got out of bed all day and now it's time to go to Hamburg for another gig. It's 4.30pm. I feel like death. This tour is going to kill me. Last night was amazing. It was the first one that Heiko has been to, so he was quite keen to see how we were getting on (and whether he'd made a massive mistake booking us!). It was a strange venue. . .I think we'll be playing a lot of strange venues on this tour. It seemed to be a high-class eating establishment, not too far from the flat that we're staying in in Bremen. They'd put us in a beautiful room, and Heiko had made it look lovely with lights and decorations. I did a purely acoustic set this time, with lots of looping. I also managed to persuade Thomas to play guitar with me on one song (with no real rehearsal) and Eddy to play harmonica on another. They both did brilliantly, raising both songs to something much better than I could do on my own. Thomas and I both joined Outroads for "Gravey" again. We're mixing and matching so much now that, by the end of the tour, we're probably just going to be one big band.
Last night we all played the best gigs of the tour so far, and made a fair bit of money through CD sales and the hat that always seems to get passed around at gigs over here, so we decided to celebrate by getting a few beers and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label. That was a mistake. I feel awful now. We stayed up til 4am drinking. Do not drink a quarter bottle of Johnnie Walker after a couple of beers and two big glasses of red wine. I cannot stress this enough. You will hurt inside. Tonight we play in Hamburg and I can barely move my head. Not sure about this. Not sure about this at all.
Sorry for leaving it this long, but nowhere seems to have wireless connections here. Odd.
Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. Dying from whiskey-induced hideousness.
Sunday 23rd January
Weird gig last night. Good, but weird. Nobody was functioning properly after all that whiskey. I was playing second, just after Outroads (we rotate it, cos we're all fair like that). I did another full-on electronica set. My head would have appreciated a quiet, acoustic set, but I asked the others what they thought and they all said "electronica".
I think they might be trying to kill me.
At the end of one of my songs, "Walk/Don't Walk", I always move away from the microphone and belt out the final chorus on my own, with no backing. It tends to get people's attention. Last night it definitely got their attention because I almost passed out with the effort. I've never done a gig feeling that rough. We've all decided to rein it in a bit now. A sober, early night follows.
Two gigs today. . .a cafe one this afternoon and a club tonight.
The cafe one is good. We've got the radio on backstage and just before we go out, the DJ mentions all of our names and the next few gigs. That's got to be a good sign, hasn't it? I'm on last, and once more recruit Thomas for extra guitar on "Daybreak". The cafe has a bass guitar backstage and a drum kit all set up, so this time, when it comes to the song I normally play with Eddy, we form an impromptu band. Me on guitar and vocals, Eddy on harmonica, Thomas on bass and Geoff on drums. We've never played together and the others have only heard me play this song a few times. Oh, and Geoff hasn't played the drums for about ten years.
Surprisingly, it sounds OK, I think. It's on Youtube somewhere now. It's also a huge amount of fun. We sell enough CDs and stuff to pay for another tank of petrol. The petrol kitty's quite full these days. It's good, cos we all want to keep costs to a minimum while we're here and it's pretty expensive.
The club we're playing in tonight is really close to our flat. Hopefully we'll get another early night. Busy day tomorrow. A small set at the airport terminal at 9am (I don't know. . .it seems weird to me too), then a live song each for a TV station at midday, then another club one in the evening.
I call my Dad and tell him the itinerary. . .he thinks that maybe I'm doing too many gigs. "Well, as long as it's still fun for you", he says.
It really is, Dad. It really is.
Monday 24th January
Ooooh, last night was quiet. Almost nobody came to club. The owner died just a few days ago and those regulars that didn't stay away were very subdued. All three bands took the opportunity to work out some new songs. It was actually really nice to mix the sets up a bit. It feels like we've been on the road for ages already, even though it's only been a few days. Outroads normally put on a really lively show, but last night they played a couple of slower, quieter ones that were just beautiful and left me a little teary-eyed if I'm honest. I did my best to reciprocate with a cover of "Famous Blue Raincoat" after I heard that Leonard Cohen's songs make Eddy cry like a big girl. Astrid's Farm followed with a couple of slow, sad songs too. Basically, we all just tried to make each other cry.
Which counts as a good night in my book.
The airport gig this morning was just as weird as it sounds. We set up a small PA and played a handful of songs each to a vastly indifferent crowd. We got some money, but nobody bought any CDs. Then it's straight over to the TV station to do a song each. I decide to do "Walk/Don't Walk" because, as Geoff says, "it's got a good opening and a very strong finish". It's good to have people around like this. I know it's sound advice, so I do it and it goes over really well, as do the other guys' songs, which I watch from the control room down the corridor. Everyone looks surprisingly comfortable in front of all the cameras and gives a proper TV-worthy performance. I'm impressed with us, frankly. All these gigs are clearly good practice. Our performances are being broadcast at 6pm tonight. Hopefully we'll be at the next venue in time to catch it on telly before we play. That'll be a nice little ego-boost.
Today Eddy found out two things. One is that he is allergic to rye. The other is that it's almost impossible to find a food product that doesn't contain rye in Germany. His throat's swelling up and he's making some pretty disgusting sounds, so I give him an anti-histamine and we head for one of the innumerate "Apothekes" that litter the streets around here. While we're there, we pick up some nasal spray for me and some Sesame Snaps for the road.
Rock.
And.
Roll.
Tuesday 25th January
Gig last night was very strange. We were told we were playing in a theatre that normally puts on Shakespeare plays, but when we turned up, it appeared that the theatre was part of a high school. Our initial dubiousness was put to rest when we got inside though. It was beautiful in there. And they gave us really nice food. That's apparently all we need to make us happy. This gig had a pre-booked local support act in the form of a fourteen year old girl named Lena. I honestly can't say enough good things about this girl. She has a voice that makes you look around you in shock, hoping to catch the eye of someone so you know someone else is hearing the same thing and it's not all in your head. It's amazing. She's clearly nervous (at fourteen, who wouldn't be?) but she's so naturally, effortlessly stunning that it's genuinely disconcerting to have to play after her. How do you follow that? Luckily it's Outroads who have to follow her tonight, and they play a storming set. The audience is a strange one. . .half of them are fourteen year old girls here to see Lena, and it gives the evening a really strange, giggly atmosphere.
Half way through my set, I get paranoid that the giggles are directed at me, and get all weirded out. It's only when I get off stage and Eddy says "Well, you must have loved that: loads of girls getting all giggly and swooning over you" that I realise they weren't being cruel, they were being 14 year old girls. Yes, I'm genuinely that stupid. Sell a lot of CDs tonight (is it wrong to take pocketmoney so unthinkingly?) and sign more autographs than ever before. A good night, all in all. And we're playing with Lena twice more on this tour. That's definitely something to look forward to.
In the afternoon, we play a theatre venue in Bremen University. It's the nicest stage we've seen so far, and it fills up pretty quickly. It's a student audience, so I only sell a couple of CDs, but it's a good, attentive atmosphere. Plus, as Geoff always says "every gig's a gig". Actually everyone always says that now. Four or five times a day. It's kind of the tour slogan. After the theatre, it's straight in the car for a five hour trip to Frankfurt. We're playing in the bar of the Levi's hotel tonight.
I didn't even know there was a Levi's hotel. We decide we all want free jeans.
Wednesday 26th January
Christ. Christing bloody Christ. Oh, Christ. We are a mess today. All of us. Gig last night was OK. Not great, but OK. It was quiet, but most people were listening. Most people. There was a table of six or seven American bankers in the far corner of the bar, just being really loud all the way through the gig. Really loud. So much so that I wanted to ask them if they realised they were being stereotypes. But that would have been rude. Thomas changed some of his song lyrics tonight to address the Americans directly, but they didn't even notice. Then, as they were leaving, Eddy "coughed" a very, very rude word at them from the stage. I didn't notice at first, but other people did. I think Eddy regretted it immediately. His face was one of utter, abject, hilarious remorse. After the gig, our two "contacts" in Frankfurt, Miriam and Hanna, took us out partying. We were staying in the hotel, so we could get as drunk as we liked with impunity. And Christ, did we get drunk. It was Katri's last day with us, so we decided to make a proper night of it. Eddy was very neatly sick into a window box, I ended up half on a mattress on the floor next a fold-up bed, and I've got a video clip on my phone of Geoff dancing with a plastic bag over his face that I don't remember taking. Today's one of the only days that we have nice beds, a nice bathroom and what looks like a great shower, but we can't use them because we're too busy groaning and retching. Get in the car and try to drive to Dortmund for a gig in a big church. We get no more than 30 minutes out of Frankfurt and we have to stop. At a McDonalds. I break a 10 or 15 year McDonalds embargo and eat a lot of filth. It sorts me out. Damn you Ronald McDonald. I hope your clown makeup gives you cancer.
All pile back in the car for the trip to Dortmund.
Thursday 27th January
The church last night was incredible. We obviously weren't feeling too good, and the turn-out wasn't amazing, but the atmosphere was great. Because of the sheer size of the church, there was a fantastic natural reverb. So much so that I eschewed the p.a. at the start (that's right, "eschewed" - I'm on tour, I'm not an animal) and just played a couple of acoustic songs. The reverb also helped my looped vocals sound like a proper choir. Lovely. Everyone was really nice and we had another great local support act in the form of Stadtlichter.
Both Outroads and Astrid's Farm write really catchy, beautiful songs that have been going round my head for days now. Every time they play, I sing new harmonies to myself. Even feeling as rough as I did last night, there's always a song or two that makes me smile.
Straight from the church into the most amazing blizzard. Driving to the next gig in Osnabruck should only take an hour or so, but with all the snow, it takes much longer. Luckily, we've discovered a couple of tour songs to help us along. One is a traditional German canon, where one person starts singing, then another one comes in with exactly the same line, but one line later (think "Row, Row, Row your boat" with four people singing it). Thomas tried to teach us the words to it on the first night, and we all made our own aides memoire to them (mainly wildly inaccurate phonetic interpretations), but we've got it to a standard where it all sounds like we're the singing the same thing. The other tour song is by a man named Dean Friedman and is called "Lucky Stars". It's probably the worst song ever written by anyone ever, anywhere, ever. It's awful. I think we might try to learn it and play it together on the last night.
Despite the amazing musical journey, by the time we get to Osnabruck, we're all tired, hungry and grumpy. So when our contact welcomes us into his house with the offer of a big pot of stew, we wolf it down gratefully. People are great. I take back everything bad I've ever said about them.
Friday 28th January
Osnabruck is a strange, strange town, full of strange, strange people. We were playing at the opening night of a new club last night, so I did a full-on electronica set. It went down really, really well. At the end of Walk/Don't Walk, I walked into the crowd, singing at the top of my voice, eyes partially closed. When I opened them, there was a German man standing two inches away from me, grinning right into my face. Then he hugged me. There was also a man sitting right in front of the stage, playing Scrabble with no board and no opponent. Strange town, strange people. But incredibly welcoming and really responsive. We take a record amount of money and I sell more CDs than ever before. That may sound mercenary, but we need this money to keep the car running and our livers on the verge of collapse.
Today, we drive straight to a record store for another daytime promo gig. It's quiet. Very quiet. So it's doubly surprising when we all sell a few CDs and make a bit more cash. It all helps. Every gig is, after all, a gig.
Tonight we're playing in a hostel bar with Lena again. Should be a good one.
Saturday 29th January
I love playing gigs with Lena. She brings in a really enthusiastic crowd. Once again, she makes the sort of noise with her voice that leaves you shaking your head in wonder. And she's less nervous this time. Genuinely amazing and slightly intimidating. I've worked out pretty stable acoustic versions of my songs now, with lots of looping, and it seems to always go over well. So now I can do a very presentable half hour set of acoustic or electronic music, depending on the venue and audience. After all these gigs in such a short space of time, I'm also much more confident in my voice and playing abilities than I've ever been. If nothing else, this tour is amazing practice. Lots of CDs get sold again. . .I'm running out of them now, and we've still got 9 or 10 days left. I honestly wasn't expecting to do so well with the CDs. German crowds seem much more likely to buy them than English ones. They're also really attentive when you play. I've got a gig in Bath the day after I get back to England. It's going to be interesting to see how the two crowds compare...
Geoff's wife Kate came out from Sheffield tonight. She's staying with us for the next week and joining Outroads for a few songs each night. She turns up just before my last song, so I say "hello" from onstage and embarrass her a little in front of everyone. To her credit, she smiles sweetly and says "hello" back. I think we'll get on fine.
We're back in the artists' flat tonight for the first time in ages. It'll be nice to sleep in what I've started thinking of as my own bed.
Tomorrow we're in Oldenburg in a club called Polyester. Apparently it's a sixties/seventies decorated place with a good sound system. Looking forward to that.
OK, I've had it pointed out to me that the dates on these blog postings are all one day out. What the hell do you want from me? Accuracy, or something? In order to keep with the spirit of the thing (and because I'm incredibly lazy), I've left them all one day out. I think the days are right, but the dates aren't. The actual events are spot on, though, trust me.
Also, yes, I am back now. . .but due to my laziness in posting, these entries are almost two weeks old.
Anyway, have it.
Sunday 30th January
Oh, man. . .Polyester is a quality place! It looks like all the worst design ideas of the sixties and seventies got together and had a baby in the form of a nightclub. The decor is amazing. And insanely difficult to describe. It's so ugly, it comes out of the other side and becomes beautiful. If you're ever in Oldenburg, go there. But shade your eyes. I wasn't sure whether to do a full electronica set or an acoustic one (I never am), so I asked the guys again. They all wanted electronica. I think a couple of them are secret dance music fans. We have a few hours to kill, so we play table football with the locals (well, we lose at table football to the locals), have a few photos taken in front of the bad decor and generally just twat around. Kate's an absolute diamond, as it turns out. Before she turned up, I told Geoff that I'd be happy if, by the end of her stay, she was comfortable enough to take the piss out of me and have the piss taken out of her by me. That's one of my benchmarks for my friends. I needn't have worried. By the end of the first day, she's given me a new nickname: "feeble diva". Needless to say, we get on fine. Her vocals add a new dimension to Outroads' set that the guys have been missing (but obviously we, the audience, haven't noticed until now). It's new and beautiful and makes me happy all over again. Thomas asks me up on stage to sing the harmonies to one of his songs with him. I oblige, obviously. This swapping and helping out and joining in really wasn't something I'd envisaged happening on this tour. Especially not when you take into account all of our different styles of music. It's great. This is the first time I've really thought about how much I'm going to miss these guys after the tour's over. It's a weird feeling and not one I want to dwell on just yet.
When it comes to my set, I start off with a couple of acoustic songs before switching to big beats. As soon as I do, I feel the shift in the room. There are whoops and cheers as soon as the beats come in. Things go well until I try to use my Electro-Harmonix looper. The bloody thing won't midi-synch. I get angry and frustrated, stop and try to use my spare midi cable. Same problem. Someone from the crowd hands me another midi cable, which spins me out a bit (who goes to a gig with a spare midi cable? Madness), but I can't get the cocking thing to synch no matter what I do. It kind of ruins the gig for me, and although people continue to be responsive, I feel like a totally fraudulent shambles. It's the first gig I haven't really enjoyed playing in the whole tour.
Despite my immediate, self-absorbed, negative emotional response, I sell a few CDs and later on the owner of the club gives me his details and asks me to come back to play another gig at some point in the future.
I clearly have no judgement at all when it comes to my own gigs.
We stick around for a couple of hours afterwards, trying to get our perpetually exhausted bodies moving to the DJ set before slinking back to the Volvo and driving home.
We have the whole day free today before the gig tonight. It's only a few hours, but it feels like a holiday. We do laundry, eat a decent meal for the first time in ages and sing each other's songs all day. God help us, we're a bloody family. We've all got nicknames now. I can't tell you most of them. Some of the most offensive are the ones I've given the others. They still make me laugh.
I set up a small studio in my room and try to get to the bottom of the issues I had at Polyester. It doesn't take me too long to pin-point the problem. I'd put the midi cable in the wrong socket. Simple. Then, when I changed midi cables, I put the new one in the wrong socket too.
So there's good news and bad news. Good news is: my equipment works perfectly. Bad news is: I'm a massive tool.
Gig in a pub in a small town called Achim tonight. When I told someone last night where we were playing, they burst out laughing. Hmmm.
Monday 31st January
Last night's gig in Achim was a new experience for me, and not one I necessarily want to repeat. I did an intimate little acoustic set, which went well, but I didn't feel a thing during it. Usually I put as much of myself into the songs as possible, so I feel sad in the sad songs, uplifted in the uplifting songs, and energised in the energetic songs. Last night, I felt nothing. That can't be good, surely? Maybe we've been doing this too much recently. Or maybe it's because I'm exhausted. Or maybe it's just a remnant of the previous night's disappointment. Christ knows, but when I get off stage, I don't have a single emotion to my name.
Kate says some really nice things about my voice, which is sweet and I'm able to enjoy the other guys' music with no problem at all. Think I'm just tired.
We're off to a place called The Blooming Bar in Gottingen tonight. I've had a decent night's sleep and I think we're all feeling more up for it than we have been recently. The atmosphere in the car is really good anyway. Everyone's taking the piss and singing bad songs at each other.
Tuesday 1st February
Ah. Good gig last night. Very good gig. We all played acoustic sets and we all played really well. A friend of Outroads came along, so we gave him a slot to play too. He did some great, instrumental guitar looping. Brilliant stuff. When I went on after him, I opened with the line "The British are invading, and they've brought loop pedals". It's only when I look up and see Geoff and Eddy wide-eyed and gasping that I realise what I've said. I don't stop laughing for ages. Nevermind. Someone in the audience whoops and cheers when I introduce my last song "Walk/Don't Walk". He knows my music! That's rare, especially in a foreign country, and it makes me happy. Geoff, Kate, Eddy and Thomas all join me for the finale of "Walk/Don't Walk".
They sing the big choir part that I recorded for the album with my friends in Bristol. It feels like I've known these guys for ages. They're brilliant and I get all misty eyed again, like a big girl.
Someone afterwards tell us that watching us is the musical equivalent of watching kids in a park playing football with each other. We've got to the stage now where we play songs that we know the others like and we swap and join in with each other so much, it's clear that we're doing it for the sheer pleasure of playing. I don't know if was meant to be a compliment, but we're all inordinately satisfied with that description.
After the gig, we get invited by someone to go somewhere and have a drink. It really is that vague (for me, at least). We go and get provisions in a corner shop, then get ledunderneath the corner shop to a basement room. A room in which three of the four walls are rock climbing walls, at various, dizzying angles. I'm a bit tipsy, as are the others, and we happily while away the first half an hour indulging our inner child and just climbing all over the place. It's awesome, but waking up this morning, my forearms are on fire and my fingers can barely grip my coffee. I wonder if I can get away with not playing guitar or piano tonight. . .
We've got 2 days in Thomas' hometown of Hamburg now, so we get in the car and drive through more snow. Apparently the venue tonight (a place called Astra Stube) is, in Thomas' words "a shithole, but a nice shithole". I'm headlining tonight, so I'm going to do a full on beat-driven set.
I'm really looking forward to the next few days. . .
Wednesday 2nd February
Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. I did NOT have fun last night. No siree. Nope. We got to Hamburg in the afternoon and were, as usual, exhausted. Went straight to Thomas' girlfriend's flat and almost fell asleep immediately. I was the one saying "come on guys, we've got to go and do a gig now". Really shouldn't have bothered. Astra Stube was exactly as Thomas described it. Small, dirty and sticky-floored. What he didn't tell us was just how smoky it was going to get. I'm pretty used to the smoking ban in England, it having been in force for years now. Germany has a different approach to smoking. Sometimes there's a designated smoking room, sometimes people can't smoke indoors and sometimes - like tonight - it almost feels like the rule is everyone MUST smoke. It's a tiny room with no ventilation and it gets unbearable pretty rapidly. Thomas doesn't look comfortable during his set, Eddy's complaining that he can't play the harmonica properly anymore, and Geoff's voice is already on the verge of cracking. I'm on last, which tonight is pretty late.
I play my first song. . .big beats, big guitars, big breakdown, big drop. And I get next to no response from the audience whatsoever. In fact, half the audience seem to have left after Outroads' set. Another song. Another tumbleweed. No, I take it back. . .there was a response. A couple of people actually left during that one. I do the full-on jungle/drum 'n' bass version of "Target" and hear definite positive sounds coming from. . .oh. Coming from Geoff. Well, at least he likes it. The crowd thins some more and I can actually hear people the other side of the room chatting away to each other. I shouldn't be able to hear that over my electronica set, so I ask the soundguy to up the volume for me on stage and out front. He smiles, gives me the thumbs up and does absolutely nothing with the sound. Cheers, fella. By the time I finish with "Walk/Don't Walk", I'm frustrated and furious. As the others join me on stage for the choir part, I walk off stage, singing at the top of my voice and stand behind two people talking loudly by the bar. They don't even turn around or interrupt their conversation.
I'm angry. Really angry. Then something in my perception shifts and I just feel like an arrogant dick for expecting attention. What sort of desperate loser needs people to pay attention to them like this? I want to leave immediately. After an excruciating wait, we pack up and leave. I subsequently have the worst night's sleep I've had so far this tour.
Today I woke up in a bit of a bad mood, but resolved to put it behind me and have a good one tonight. It's our last day in Hamburg (a city I really like) and it's Kate's last evening with us, so we have to have fun. We start the day by wandering around town. . .I find an ugly/beautiful jumper in a second hand shop, Geoff finds a bright yellow bodywarmer and Eddy finds an entire new outfit. I decide to wear my new purchase on stage on the last night.
I also find a box of sweets called "Spunk", which cheers me up no end.
It's the little things, isn't it?
Tonight we're in a bar called Freundlich & Kompetent (translation: "friendly & competent". Sweet, no?). . .let's hope it's a good one.
Thursday 3rd February
Thank God last night was OK. After Astra Stube, I don't think I could have handled another bad gig. Freundlich & Kompetent is a small, lovely bar in Hamburg, and while the patrons weren't necessarily there to listen to music, they didn't make us feel unwelcome by any stretch of the imagination. I sell a few CDs and the hat gets quite a bit of cash thrown into it. In the storage room where we put our equipment, I spot a Freundlich & Kompetent hoodie (or "kaputzenpullover" as they are rather wonderfully known over here) and instantly want one more than I've wanted anything for a while. The lovely barman gives us all one each at a reduced price. It's quality. I'm wearing it right now. In fact, looking around, we're all wearing ours. We look great, trust me. Also, one of the girls that works at the hostel we played a few weeks ago in Hamburg turns up at the bar with her sister and we all end up hanging out together afterwards. It's a good night that ends a bit too quickly for my liking. . .but Kate needs to leave at 4am, so after we say our drunken, emotional goodbyes, we all head back and get as much sleep as possible before the next gig in Hannover.
When I see Thomas in the morning, he looks rough as hell. His teeth and jaw have been causing him pain over the last couple of nights, but he's been ignoring it. It doesn't look like he can ignore it anymore. He's booked a dentist appointment this afternoon, so we all hang around in Hamburg for a little longer. When he goes to the dentist, they instantly take him into surgery and perform an emergency root canal on him. Poor boy's been going around with a massively infected face for days. When he comes out of the dentist, the bottom half of his face is completely numb and he's got a hole in the back of his lower front tooth that goes all the way down to his jawbone. How the hell is he going to sing tonight? He also needs to be back in Hamburg tomorrow in order to have the hole filled, which throws our schedule out a bit. We talk about it and decide that, if we all go back to Hamburg tonight after the Hannover gig, Thomas (or Fat Tommy as he's strangely become known) can get himself sorted out and we can all stay together. That decided, we get in the car and head for Hannover and a bar called Kulturpalast Linden. . .
More soon. . .
Right, you lot. You'll be glad to know that this is the final blog posting. I've got to find some way to condense all these posts into a manageable 600 words for Venue magazine now. Yeesh.
Have:
Friday 4th February
Last night was one of the quietest gigs we've done so far. The actual place was lovely, but there was a big gig in a club just 200 metres or so down the road, so it was pretty empty. Still, they had a piano, so I got to vary my set a little. Thomas also asked me to play piano on his song "Razorblades", which I did. Was worried that I was doing too much over what should have been a beautiful, sparse, looped song, but Thomas reassured me that it was all good. I seem to be flitting between arrogant over-confidence and crippling under-confidence at the moment. Welcome to my brain.
I don't know how Tom managed it, but he sounded great last night, despite the hole in his mouth.
I sell one CD, which I'm OK with, given the paucity of the crowd, then get in the car for the long drive back to Hamburg.
Today, we woke up, had a delicious breakfast at Thomas's studio, then wandered around town while Thomas got his face filled in at the dentist. We go into a cowboy boot shop - Geoff's been thinking about getting a pair for ages apparently. The guy in the shop is a German, but is dressed like an American. Well, he's dressed like the idea of an American, anyway. But he does speak very good English. He shows us lots of boots that are WAY out of Geoff's price range. Then Eddy picks up a pair of beautifully crafted, but frankly hideous boots. He taps the soles and says, almost to himself, "is that a wooden sole?". The salesman instantly bursts out laughing. He mercilessly mocks Eddy for the next five minutes: "Oh, ahahahaaa! Is it wood?! A wooden-soled boot! HAHAHAHahahaha!". Apparently it's cocking HILARIOUS to him. And it soon becomes pretty hilarious to me and Geoff too. All of a sudden, I can't stop laughing. The shop owner thinks I'm laughing at Eddy with him, so it just encourages him. "Wood! Haha. He's gone quiet now hasn't he? Hahahahaha. Wood!". My face hurts from laughing so much. I find it odd that something so niche could be so funny to him. It's the equivalent of me pissing myself at someone thinking my Boss Rc-20 loop machine was a Boss Rc-50 loop machine. "Ahahahha! He thought it was the Rc-50! Hahaha! But it has no midi functionality! Hahahah. He's an idiot."
Weird.
When Thomas comes out of the dentist, he looks like he's in agony. There's only a few days left of the tour now. I hope he can hold out for it. It would be really weird if he couldn't play, even for one night. . .
He seems to be OK for driving though, so we head over to Bremerhaven. We've got a gig in a cinema tonight, apparently.
Saturday 5th February
Ahhhh, last night was good. It was a proper functioning cinema, which I wasn't expecting. I assumed it would be an old, dilapidated ex-cinema, but no. That'll teach me for thinking. When we got there, we were treated to a brilliant Chinese meal, then led into a beautiful cinema with a stage at the front, just under the screen, onto which was projected the tour logo and our band names. It looked good. Really good. And Heiko was doing the sound, so it sounded great too. More people should play in cinemas. They are good places for music. The place filled up much more than I was expecting. It seems that the Songs and Whispers tour is gaining a bit of a reputation over here. That's a good sign. There's a local support act again tonight, in the form of a singer/songwriter/guitarist and a percussionist. The percussionist has a big box of shakers, sticks, maracas and all sorts, as well as a cajon. His name is Andreas and he's good. He makes three shakers and a cajon sound like a full kit. So obviously, I ask him to do some stuff on my song Your Own Death And How To Cope With It. It's not the best version I've ever done, but with both Eddy and Andreas on stage with me, it's definitely more for my enjoyment than the audience's. I let the audience know that too. I think they're OK with it. I close with Walk/Don't Walk and everyone, including Heiko, joins me on stage. This is my favourite bit of each show and with every gig - as the final gig comes ever closer - it gets more poignant for me. It's a song about letting go of the past and moving on, and I can't help smiling ruefully all the way through the choir bit. Not only is it the best song to end my set on, I also think it's quite good for CD sales. It's a really memorable ending, and hopefully it lets people forget any mistakes I made during the set, and just remember the pretty closing seconds. Either way, I sell quite a few CDs again. A lovely lady comes up to me afterwards and says that the reason she came there tonight was specifically to see me play. I'm not used to people specifically going out of their way just to see me, and it makes me feel really strange, in a good way. Both Outroads and Thomas put on brilliant sounding shows tonight. During Outroads' set, I have to get up and go the back of the cinema for a bit of a dance on my own. I get some strange looks, but who cares? I'm never going to see most of these people again anyway.
Thomas sounds great tonight. I don't know how he does it. He's had surgery on his face two days in a row and he still sounds great. He cuts his set a bit short, so I think he probably doesn't feel great, but that isn't coming across in his music. He looks pretty rough though. Really dishevelled. Actually, for a musician it's a popular look, but you would be forgiven for thinking he was a heroin addict based on tonight's appearance.
We don't really drink that much at the venue, so we pack stuff away and ask Heiko if he wants to come out for a drink somewhere. He says yes, and takes us to a club near his office. It's a surprising choice for a tee-total, mild-mannered tour promoter. UV decor, proper intense clubber types and the hardest of hard acid-techno beats. I love it instantly, and I think Geoff quite likes it too, but for a bunch of indie/guitar kids, it's a really odd choice. We go to the chill out room for a drink and a chat. It's a really nice atmosphere. . .we're almost at the end of the tour and we all feel relaxed with each other. Heiko no longer feels like the guy in charge. He's definitely one of us. We've all divulged things about us on this tour that we certainly normally wouldn't have divulged to anyone else that we'd known for less than three weeks. But that's the thing. I feel like I've known these guys for years now. I'm really comfortable with them. After Kate left, she started looking into creating a tour in the UK so we can all have a reunion later on this year. I'm already looking forward to that.
In the car on the way back to the flat, I start to feel really ill. I have a sneezing fit and instantly feel like I've got the flu. Not now. Just a few more days. I just need to hold out a little while longer. Just two more gigs.
I wake up feeling awful. Sweaty and clammy and cold. Good. My body seems to have rebelled. Bastard. Just two more gigs. I drink tea all day and eat well, just trying to ignore it. My throat hurts. Decide to drink straight spirits tonight in an effort to soothe it. Last but one gig now. A place called Wunderbar in Luneburg. Well, it's got a pun in its name. . .how bad can it be?
Sunday 6th February
Wunderbar is a really nice little place. Two stages, a lovely outside area. Really nice. Another piano, so I do an acoustic set with added keys. There's an odd feeling initially, as we were told they'd be providing us with food, but they seem adamant that they aren't. We were also told that we'd be passing around a hat for money, but they seem to think that it's an entrance fee deal (which won't make us as much petrol money). Thomas, as the only native German speaker, unfortunately has to deal with all this himself. He talks them into going with a hat instead. He seems really annoyed with the club owners, and there's a definite atmosphere in the place, but we leave it and all go out to a nearby takeaway to have some decent food, paid for out of the kitty. Before I go on stage for my soundcheck, I go to get us all a drink at the bar. There's a guy sitting there who overhears my drinks order and says in a London accent "Haha. Go on, son". We chat for a while as my drinks are being sorted. Turns out, his Mum is Indian and his Dad is English. Now. . .my Dad is Indian and my Mum is English/Irish, so obviously, we must be best friends now. We start talking about Indian food (well, he starts talking about Indian food. I just want to get back to my actual friends) and he says some slightly dodgy things about the number of Turkish people in Germany and how they open Indian restaurants but can't cook properly. I feel uncomfortable with the direction this conversation's taking, as I have nothing against Turkish people as a rule, and am unable to comment reductively on their culinary skills as a nation, so I leave and head towards the stage. He follows me and, during my soundcheck, talks to me from the front of the stage. I don't want him to talk to me. He's loud and getting progressively more drunk. I still feel all fluey and frankly don't know if I can take this. As he gets more drunk, his vocabulary shrinks. By the time I start my set (I'm on first tonight), his vocabulary has shrunk to one single word. That word is "Poppadom". It's all he can say. However, he valiantly attempts to redress the balance by substituting breadth of word-knowledge for sheer volume. I tell him at the start of my set, when it's clear he thinks that he and the word "poppadom" deserve to be a part of the show, that his constant side-dish shouting will soon get distracting for me. It has no effect, so I just try to ignore him. The first idiot in three weeks and he's from England. Perfect. My set goes down well and I sell another record number of CDs.
Thomas seems really quiet tonight, but I assume it's just because of his face pain. Outroads, however, play one of the best sets I've ever seen them play tonight.
When they first start playing, Mr Poppadom is joined by his wife at the front of the stage. She seems really nice (I was talking to her when she bought a CD off me), but he doesn't seem to like her that much. In fact, all I can hear is him really viciously swearing at her. I catch Eddy's eye onstage. We're both furious with this dick, but what can we do? Luckily, he shuts up before it gets to the stage where anyone has to do anything. We all join Outroads for their last song "Gravey". Then they are called back for three encores. It's great. The audience are brilliant here. Apart from Senor Side-Dish, who comes up to me afterwards and tells me drunkenly that he runs a music school down the road and makes albums and goes on tours that are much bigger and better than ours, then asks me to play some piano and sing with him on his next record, for "big bucks, yeah? Big bucks". He needs a pen to give me his details so he kindly asks his wife for one, with the phrase "I need a fucking pen. Fuck off and get me one then!". I'm audibly grinding my teeth as I give him my details. This myspace address was one of the things I gave him. If you're reading this, Mr Poppadom (I won't use your real name), then thank you for your kind offer. I feel, however, that I must decline it, as I fundamentally despise everything about you as a person, you aggressive, self aggrandising, arrogant, pathetic little bully of a man.
Thomas comes up to us and says "let's get out of here", so we shake the owners' hands (they give us a big hug as we go in for the shake) and pack up the car. Then Thomas tells us why he's been a bit weird all night. The owners and bar staff have been really snarky about us apparently. From the moment we arrived they have been complaining to Thomas that we won't make them any money and that we're nowhere near famous enough to fill out the place. Then they told him that they weren't going to give us the hat money, but forward it directly on to Heiko. They won't even tell us what was in the hat. We know it's at the very, very least 100 euros, just from the amount of people there and the fact that they were clearly putting notes in, but we have no way of knowing. That, combined with the fact that they have been sarcastic and rude to Thomas all night doesn't really fill us with hope about getting all of the money back. Looks like we might just have done this gig for free (apart from CD sales). It's weird because they seem to have been really nice to us English-speakers all night. There's definitely been a weird feeling, but none of us realised it was this bad. It's a good thing Thomas didn't tell us, because it really would have ruined our sets. No wonder he's been a bit off all night. Feel bad that he's had to shoulder the burden of that while we had great fun. We head back home, weirded out and slightly despondent. Only one more gig left. I really want it to be great.
Woke up this morning, not feeling as ill as I did yesterday. I dose myself up with everything I have, then get up to meet the others. Strange, slightly low feeling pervades us all. We drive to the area of the gig in Bremen and decide to spend almost all of our remaining kitty money on a slap-up farewell meal. The food is good, as is the wine. We don't over-indulge though. Not yet. My flight is at 6am tomorrow morning, so we've decided that we're going to stay up all night until they see me into a taxi at 4.30am.
Tonight is a venue called Club Moments. We're playing with Lena again, which seems fitting. I'm wearing the second-hand jumper that I bought in Hamburg. It's bright red and yellow. I look like a character from Sesame Street, but I feel pretty cocking good in it. Soundcheck in ten minutes' time.
Monday 7th February
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I haven't slept yet and I can feel the hangover gripping my brain like a wet slug. It's 9am and I'm in Bristol. I don't fully remember the airport last night, but I know that I tried to explain what all the electrical equipment in my bag was by describing the intricacies of live looping to the poor security lady. I also know that I went through at least one door I shouldn't have gone through. A nice police lady told me that.
I feel sick.
Last night was good. It was the right way to end.
I was worried that it wouldn't go well. There was a real downer of an atmosphere for a while there. When we got to the club, Heiko had set up and Lena was already soundchecking. She sounded amazing, as usual. We set up our kit. . .I was doing half acoustic, looped stuff and two full on dance songs. I figured it was the last night, I should do a bit of everything. Even though it wasn't my turn to headline, the others decided that it would be a good idea if I did. My electronica set is louder than anything else they do and I could end with everyone on stage for Walk/Don't Walk, which would be a perfect tour closer. That's one of the reasons I think these guys are great. There's no ego at all. As if to prove this, Thomas asks Lena to go on after him rather than just be our support. She agrees and the line-up is finalised: Outroads, Astrid's Farm, Lena, Cajita.
Then Heiko tells us that drinks aren't free tonight. They are half price. Which would be OK, except we've just spent all of our money on a big farewell meal, and don't have any more cash. It sends Geoff into a bit of a spin and he gets annoyed at Heiko during his soundcheck. There's feedback on one note of his guitar, and he's waiting for Heiko to sort it out. Heiko says he can't and things get a bit fractious. I can tell Geoff's annoyed, and I want to see if he's OK, but I have to soundcheck my stuff. Heiko's clearly annoyed too, and a little snappy. I don't want this. Not on the last night. After soundcheck, we sit in the backstage area together. Geoff's calmed down, Lena's there and Andreas the percussionist from the other night has also turned up. The atmosphere lightens a bit. Heiko gives us 50 euros to buy some booze. We resolve to sell enough CDs and make enough in the hat to pay him back straight after the gig. Then Tom and I go out and buy a couple of bottles of red wine from down the road and bring them backstage.
Thomas has a bottle of really nice champagne that someone gave him for Christmas. We crack it open before Outroads go on. It's a party atmosphere now. Everyone knows that's it's the last chance we get to play with each other for a while, so everyone wants to make it go off smoothly. There's an air of melancholy, but we're determined to cover it up with alcohol and giggles.
Halfway through Outroads' set, they stop, unplug their guitars and sit at the front of the stage. Lena joins them and they sing a song that they haven't done on this tour before. It's beautiful and heartfelt and sad and I find myself crying into the sleeve of my Sesame Street jumper. Damn them.
We all join them for "Gravey" and it's one of the most fun renditions we've ever done. Then they finish and that's it for them. They're done.
Thomas' set goes by in a flash. I join him on piano for "Razorblades" and everyone gets up for his closing song again. He says something in German about my jumper which gets laughs and whistles in equal measure. I forget to ask him what he said, but I'm happy with laughs and whistles. Then, suddenly, Thomas is done too. This is weird.
Lena is amazing. She jokes with the crowd between songs, stuns everyone with her voice and generally is great. She also tells everyone that I'm up next and that I'm really cool and she'll kill any of her friends who leave before I'm on. It's really sweet of her and I thank her for it.
Then it's my turn. Just as I'm about to start singing my opening vocal loop, Thomas, Geoff and Eddy come to the front of the stage. They've got tequilas. I have to do a tequila shot in front of everyone. . .14 year old girls, their parents, and the general public. I get the opening four part harmony loop going, then the shot hits me. Yowser. I hear audible giggles from around the sizable crowd. I think I might have just staggered like a punched cow. I do four songs acoustically, then move over to my computers and do a couple of dancey ones. I don't know if they really work for this crowd, but I look over and see Outroads and Astrid's Farm dancing away. That makes it all worthwhile in my opinion. Then, all too quickly, it's time for my last song. Everyone comes up on stage: Thomas, Eddy, Geoff, Heiko, Lena and Andreas. Everyone has a shaker and we launch into it together. It makes me want to burst out laughing with joy and weep like a child when everyone joins in at the end. We hold the last note longer than ever before, not wanting it to end. But it does. And we hug like idiots on stage for ages. The audience asks for another song, so after we've hugged it all out, I go into the crowd with Geoff's acoustic and do "Monster". Just before I sing what passes for the chorus in that song, I look up and see Eddy. He's selling a CD to someone. He stops and smiles at me. I almost cry again. Jesus. I'm a mess. I blame it on the lack of sleep and all the booze.
Yeah, that's it.
All my remaining CDs go and the hat gets stuffed with cash. We're able to pay Heiko back and take a decent amount of cash each.
I pack away my stuff for the last time and Lena gives us all a present each, made up of specialties of the Bremen area. The biggest of which is a big bottle of Beck's beer. Yum.
Stop at a petrol station on the way back to the flat and get a bottle of Jack Daniels. Yum also.
We've got 4 hours of drinking to do before my taxi turns up. We go at it.
4 hours flies by.
In the taxi to the airport I'm bombarded with texts from the guys, ranging from the funny (Thomas: "Get the fuck out of my country") to the touching, to the downright obscene (I won't show you the photo Geoff sent me. Disgusting). My balance is off already after all that booze, but with these bags it's murder. I look through some photos on the plane. They make me smile to myself wistfully, but contentedly. This has been one of the best experiences of my life. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to do this.
Bring on the UK tour.
Cajita - Free EP
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