These United Kingdom Tour Diaries: Part Four

Tonight's show was at Le Baron, a ritzy, velvet roped, can't-get-in-if-you-aren't-on-the-list kinda place that serves way too many 20-euro drinks to the Paris elite. Crazy. By midnight Le Baron was crawling with all sorts of well-to-do-folks, each and everyone a chain smoker… I can't really tell the difference between Parisians and Parisian elites, but I was assured by several folks in the room that we were most certainly rubbing shoulders with the latter… Which begs the question, if one must explain that he/she is high class, does that not dull the luster, even a bit? Who knows? Certainly not me after a dozen free Kronenburgs… After our sets I spoke to a sexy robot in the lobby of the club. Quite the sentient being, this robot asked all sorts of questions—easy things, tough things, funny things, uncomfortable things… apparently, the whole conversation was being filmed for some sort of drunken, anthro-socio-pseudo-art project to be unveiled sometime in the near future… The details are hazy, not unlike a night at Le Baron… Another tidbit worth mentioning—tonight's performances were filmed by no less than three camera crews, so we should have some fancy footage of our sets in the near future. Or so we hope.

We stumbled out of the club around 2:00 am and made our way back to my wife's aunt's house where we yet again ate, drank, and drank long(er) into the night… But all parties must come to an end. Even in Paris. Rest time over. Early trains to catch to Amsterdam tomorrow, so sleep we must. And sleep we do.
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Monday October 29, 2007

After a mind-numbing number of train transfers, we finally get to Cardiff, Wales – our 6th country of the tour (England, Scotland, France, Holland, Germany being the other 5). We've now finished our last marathon travel day.

We also get our first bit of negative press on the tour – while walking down the street in Cardiff, Jesse gets an egg thrown at him from out of nowhere.

Both sets are again great – Jesse uses our new megaphone to great effect, requesting that the audience submit things to us that they've always wanted to hear as a train announcements and reading them aloud. We're having more fun than should be allowed.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

We finally get a morning to sleep in – it feels great. Our hosts, Hef and Hu, of the band the Threatmantics. They show us around Cardiff – we go to the oldest record store in the world, Spillers Records, established 1894. I buy a shirt – we then discover that girl working there saw our show last night and is friends with a good friend of ours from NYC. As a result, we stay for tea. Jesse and Mark are also given shirts – so if you see any of us wearing them, let it be noted that I had mine a good 5 minutes before the other two.

On the train to Manchester, we meet up with a gentleman named Michael who we spend the entire time talking to – the greatest part about touring this way is the random conversations we have with the people around us. It forces us to be in public. I'm realizing that touring by private vehicle is going to seem very isolated and insular from here on out…

Our second time in Manchester - despite the more appropriate venue (if you recall, last time we played a sports pub), we still don't quite manage to crack the town. We gamely work through our set, then the fun begins. Everyone at the venue is fantastic – one of our bartenders, Becca, is the most smart-assed person we've met this tour…and her attempt at an American accent is nearly as bad as our British.

Post show, we pile in the back of a van with gents from the bands The Deadbeats – and off we go. The journey is a highlight of the tour…Joe, the keyboardist, spends the entire time entertaining us through our bullhorn. (Let it also be noted that due to the club's more than generous drink policy, I'm not entirely sure what's going on or where we're going as we pile into the van. I am aware that I've just left a bar full of beautiful women for a van full of dudes and that it seems like a bad idea…)

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Not surprisingly, the next morning hurts. Luckily, we get to sleep in a bit. Before we leave, we head over to hang out with The Travelling Band, who are in the process of hanging a banner from their beautiful Manchester loft. We help. (Let it also be noted that I'm afraid of heights, a fact that Mark and Jesse find hysterical and take full advantage of).

Off to our Halloween show in Bradford. Amidst the other logistics of tour, we've somewhat forgotten that its Halloween, and Bradford does it up right. The entire town is decorated with lights and banners and such. Most people at the venue are dressed up – costumes range from the awesomely obscure (No-Face from the movie Spirited Away) to clever (Amy Winehouse) to the typical – the "slutty nurse" costume spans continents. We go as "Shaggy Americans" and pull it off will total aplomb.

The show proves difficult – two songs into our set, Jesse breaks a string, and we discover that we don't have any spares left. So we play with a 5 string guitar. Between the technical problems and the amidst the din of Halloween revels, it is not our finest show. Finally, we all pile into a huge cab and head off for some well deserved rest. Off to London tomorrow - only three shows left. The end of this tour is in sight, and despite my aching foot, fighting off a cold, and general exhaustion, I still don't want it to end.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

We arrive a the venue with plenty of time to relax and check e-mail (a wireless connection! Still somewhat of a novelty in the UK…).

Show 18 of 20 – it feels like things are starting to wrap up. Almost every leg of our journey is represented: Simon from our first night here, Olivier from Paris, and, surprise of surprises – our friend Laura flew all the way down from Glasgow. It is extraordinary to look out over the audience in London – a place foreign to me less than a month ago, and see so many newly familiar faces.

After our celebratory show, we head off to our respective lodgings. We have our first minor disaster of the tour – the envelope with all of our merch money from the show gets left on a bus. On the positive side – if we make 20 days in Europe by public transportation and only lose 50 quid, we're in good shape.

Friday, November 2, 2007

A leisurely morning – I go out for breakfast with Laura, and late afternoon meet up with Mark and Jesse for our trip to Bristol. Rush hour out of London – the train is packed from top to bottom. We squeeze our equipment anywhere it fits – overhead bins, in between coaches, etc. Every station, people are pushing on and off as fast as possible. Finally, we arrive in Bristol – early, plenty of time to wander and explore. We load everything off the train quickly and efficiently – and do our post-load out equipment check. Backpacks, laptop, merch case: check. Banjo, lap steel, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, bass….WHERE IS THE BASS?

Mark frantically leaps into action – back on the train, pushing through the thronging masses of people. We can see him running through the cars, looking everywhere – we remember loading it on but we were all spread out over 3 train cars. Jesse is asking the station manager to hold the train – no luck. Mark, in a moment of inspired genius, starts running from car to car, flinging open the train doors – which have to be manually closed. It buys him 2 minutes, but no luck. The train leaves. From our vantage point on the platform, we can see Mark wandering car to car as the taillights vanish into the night.

So we wait. The plan is that Mark will find the bass, get off at the next stop, and meet us back at the station. An hour goes by. I helped Mark's wife pick out his bass for his 30th birthday. I set the bass up for him. Needless to say, I have a bit of an emotional connection to that bass.

Finally, Mark slumps around the corner. Emptyhanded. He walks up to me, holds my arm, and says, "its okay – it was only a birthday present." My heart sinks.

And then – Jesse comes around the corner, case in hand, asking "Anyone wanna buy a bass?" My bandmates are jerks. Funny, but jerks. Turns out Mark found the case just as the train was pulling away. Crisis averted.

The show at the Folk House in Bristol is great – they have an old Steinway grand piano which I get to play. We also see even more familiar faces – our new pal Nadia somehow managed to see us once every week of the tour. This is our last 'real' show – and it's a great one to go out on. From the sound to the audience, things go about as flawless as possible. We get an encore – "What Do You Want With My Heart?" Feels appropriate.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

The most beautiful morning of the tour – we go out to a nice breakfast and wander around lovely Bristol, basking in warmth as the sun reflects off the river. A busker plays jazz on the footbridge, and his playing reminds me that in less than 24 hours, we'll be going home. One final train through the English countryside, back into London.

We meet up again with Laura and head off to the Gladstone, located a mere 56 seconds from the Borough Tube stop (according to their website, and consequentially true). A tiny little English pub – perfect for a send-off for the tour. We meet the gents from the Moon Music Orchestra, a loose collective of 7 or so people who not only play at the Gladstone but also own it. Our set is mostly uneventful – until the last song. We end with "When You're Traveling at the Speed of Light" (our usual closer) – and as we hit the refrain "If the thing that drives you onward is your heard, you must not let that engine die…", the assembled Moon Music musicians start singing along…and then, the entire pub, friends and strangers alike, break into song. We eventually stop, and just let them sing back at us – the most perfect moment of music to end the tour on.

Amidst hugs and handshakes, we pack up. Outside, fireworks are being fired all over, celebrating Guy Fawkes day. Somehow – we've managed to do this. 20 shows, 20 days. Many less showers. Even less beds. No shaving at all. From London to Glasgow to Cardiff to Paris to Amsterdam and so on and so forth. Post show, Jesse and Mark party. I sleep.

In the morning, we wander slightly dazed into the madness of Heathrow, through the usual rigmarole of airport security. Spending the rest of our un-changeable coins. After checking bags it feels unsettling to not be carrying or within eyesight of all of our gear.

Then, once more into the sky. The pastures and the lorries shrink until the clouds gently close over them. Hours pass, we sink back beneath the clouds, and the sprawl of the East Coast emerges from the mist. Through customs – FYI, American customs officers do not think "I need a shower and a drink" is a good response to "do you have anything to declare?" Kimberly and Tamuna (Jesse and Mark's respective significant others) waiting for them at the gate. Luggage collected. A final round of hugs. We're home.

Thanks to all the kind folks at DCist for hosting this, as well as everyone who came along for the ride to read, comment, check facts, etc. Until next time…

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Previously:
These United Kingdom Tour Diaries: Part One
These United Kingdom Tour Diaries: Part Two
These United Kingdom Tour Diaries: Part Three