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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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BONNY SKIRTLAND
It's been a while since we've been to the land of smokies and oatcakes and so our engagement at Gleneagles was a welcomed surprise.
We've only ever flown British Midland once before and that was to Glasgow and was not a pleasant experience. It was long before the days of 9-11 when nearly all major airlines would allow bands to take their fragile and valuable instruments into the cabin as hand luggage. British Midland were the exception and after threatening to chuck us off the flight we relented and watched hopeless as our beloved guitars sailed through the air with all the other luggage being 'shot put ' by the handlers. ( In my opinion a more accurate term should be mis-handlers ).
With the passage of time I was prepared to be positive about BM and looked forward to a relaxing flight. After all anyone and any airline can have an off day.
After the shilly shallying at the check- in ( now all the guitars fly in reinforced flight cases and travel in the hold and weigh a ton ), which took nearly 45 mins, we just about had time to grab something wet and warm. No not a groupie.
These days it's impossible to get a quick snack at an airport because every f***er in the queue wants a sundried pannini or all day breakfast melt and these have to be ordered and processed by one non English speaking member of staff who is there to deal with a throng of craning impatient travellers all in a mad hurry.
Once served and high on England's recent rugby performance we completed a successful scrum for the rationed tables and chairs and at last, it was time to relax and enjoy a leisurely nibble.
The boarding alert went up on the screen and seven scalded throats ( as a result of that always badly timed last minute coffee ) stampeded down to the departure lounge. One hour later we still hadn't boarded and the BM ghost of 'Experience Past' was beginning to materialise.
The thing with delays of any sort at an airport is how it creates this seesaw of mood. After the boredom and despair of waiting in the departure lounge, you're suddenly flung into a joyous rapture of at last being able to get on the bloody plane. People jump up and break into a near gallop - as if their pace is somehow going to affect the speed of the over all journey. The next emotion that kicks in is fear. Fear that your seat will be the one in the middle and at the back . When this doesn't happen and your seat is a goodie you feel euphoric and if it's a real goodie - cocky and pompous. Then the tedium of the terrifying safety procedure. This is where everyone acts like a frequent traveller who knows the procedure inside out and carries on reading, not daring to glimpse up and seriously contemplate what it'd really be like to, 'in the unlikely event of having to land on water' (unbelievably they used to say, 'ditch on water' ! ). The synchronised arm display now over it's time to get this baby off the ground and get there.
With the expected taxiing to commence the mood shifts to jaunty. 'Ah, all that hassle at the check-in and bother in the snack bar - they're just the obstacles that us everyday jet setters have to put up with but we'll soon be in Edinburgh when all those other poor bastards have to put up with a 12- hour road journey.'
This smug musing was suddenly interrupted by the captain informing us of further delay because we'd lost our slot. Hang on a minute pal. When we cock up a number we don't include the audience as part of the blame.
There ought to be a safety procedure for the, 'in the very real event of a sudden plummet in cabin morale.' It was another 40 mins before we finally took off and by now seven badly parched throats needed quenching.
'There's nothing like the sound of the locks snapping on the booze and food trolleys being prepared. Alright it won't be a full meal but a sandwich or baguette will go down just great with a drop of vino. All this hanging around definitely makes you peckish.'
This second bout of revisited jaunty daydreaming was cruelly crushed with the observation that the BM crew were dishing out packets that contained just two shortbread biscuits. Unless it's a good Italian desert wine I can't eat sweet stuff with alcohol and so to accompany this paltry largesse I opted for tea. It was luke warm and so was the reception I got from the 'camptrolleyist' ( fey bloke who serves on planes ) after I'd complained.
After hijacking, long delays, bad seat, shit food and ofcourse crashing there is only one other great fear and BM managed it. Yup, they lost one of our bags.
We were met by a very chatty driver who got us to the Dumblane Hilton in next to no time. A wedding party was in full swing and the bar was alive with Kilts, Sporrans and very nice Scotty totty. On hearing our English accents some playful banter took place but we only had half an hour before setting off for the venue.
The unsuspecting guests at the Gleneagles Hotel were to be treated to a surprise and so we had to stage a quasi SAS raid to avoid the heavy security at the rear entrance. Once inside we were secreted off to the leisure club restaurant where we were told to eat and drink what we liked. The food and staff were fantastic and it was only the gig for five hundred Royal Bank of Scotland employees that really got in the way of a very social evening.
With the gig over though it was back to the Hilton and the wedding party was still going strong. We joined them in their celebrations and I have to say they were a great bunch. They were so nice I began to feel really bad about 'Culloden.' I soon revised this unusual wave of compassion when I found myself in a room with very thin walls, flanked by two sub- wedding parties in progress.
The whole band met for breakfast and the pale faces told the story. A good night was had by all. We must get back to play Scotland next year. We've been away far too long.
BM found the lost luggage and guess what ? We took off on time, landed on time and got a ham and cheese roll during the flight. It was a Mcgreat trip.
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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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THE MOOR TOUR
I have to be honest when three gigs in North Yorkshire were booked for the end of October a bleak chill came over me. At the time of receiving this news I was buying high factor sun block in Cornwall. It was a very hot May and the thought of venturing into darkest moor-land held no appeal.
It was hard to imagine swapping a pasty in the sun for a Betty's tea cake under a five o' clock dusk but last Thursday there I was, and enjoying every minute of it.
Ilkley the first of our destinations is a delightful place. Set high in the hills and looking down on some beautiful scenery, it was a pleasant surprise. The more I travel around the UK the more I realise how wrong I've been about places whose names are familiar but I've known nothing about and yet formed usually negative opinions.
Ilkley reminded me of a smaller Harrogate ( another pleasant surprise on my first visit ) and has the same style of York stone buildings that give the place a sense of a great past. The venue called the Kings Hall had the feel of a place that once echoed to the delights of many famous performers and the stage with its very steep rake ( a stage with a slope ) had probably shown big musicals and opera. A steep rake enables the audience to see a large cast and chorus by elevating those performers at the rear.
I don't want to keep going on about this rake but it is the steepest I've ever come across and for the Counterfeit Stones posed a few challenges. In the first part of our show we're wearing Cuban heel boots, which were the Pedo-rage of 1963 and even on a level floor the wearer takes on a leaning gait. With the acute slope of the stage it feels like you're about to start downhill skiing. Also any glances to the wings give the impression that you're on a listing boat.
The last time I'd experienced on-land sea sickness was in a Mexican hotel who's floors had been twisted by a multitude of earthquakes. There's also a pub near Dudley in the Midlands called the Crooked House which has been deliberately designed this way but after ten minutes. You feel like you want to throw up.
Luckily because of a heavy booze cruise schedule the balance in my inner ear ( the cause of most motion sickness ) adapts quickly and apart from the odd disorientation, I managed not to ski into the front row.
The whole band did feel it in their calf muscles in the morning but we all agreed that the sell out gig was a joy. The audience were very vocal and that Thursday in Ilkley rocked by gum.
( Ps. I'd at last found out what that infuriating ditty about Ilkley Moor means- ' On Ilkley Moor Bart Hat ' simply means on Ilkely Moor without my hat. I suppose in such a bracing climate going anywhere without your hat is a bit brave and warrants singing about ! )
The following day we headed off for the second of our dates and this found us in Wetherby. It's a small town and we were booked to play at the High school, which every year runs a two week festival. Amongst others, Honor Blackman was appearing
( on another night ) and I must admit when one of the festival organisers informed me of this, there was a little stirring in my loins. There can't be many septuagenarian birds who can still do that to a fellah.
All schools have that customary smell, caused I believe by the vomit smelling floor polish. Thank God they don't provide balanced dinners anymore otherwise there'd have been the honk of murdered greens as well. We had a quick tour to suss out the dressing rooms and were surprised to be told that our washing facilities were to be in the girls' not the boys' shower.
This for some would've been a bit of a result but once you've got over the sight of some discarded tops and a pile of hockey sticks in the corner you have to deal with the practicalities of life and girls' showers have their nozzles set at a lower level. This I presume is to avoid those with long locks getting wet. Fine, but a freezing jet of water firing straight into your lower regions is a bit upsetting and unlike orthodox positioning, prevents any avoiding action. Like a bunch of tarts we were. Cometh the shower cometh the big girls.
After setting up camp it was time for lunch and so en masse we set off to town. After a few debates outside various eateries a unanimous decision was taken to do ' The Wetherby Whaler ' This proved to be the most rightest of choices. First impressions are that it's just like any old Fish and Chip joint but there's always something mystical about having to go upstairs to a restaurant that's not visible from the street. It can also be a bit of a gamble because once up the stairs you're pretty well committed. A quick retreat going backwards down narrow stairs is a risky business and so once welcomed you're in for good.
We were met by a skinny mature woman dressed as the devil complete with horns. Hovering in the background was a very pale bloke with eye makeup in a dinner jacket. The reversing option despite the danger, would have been employed at this point but I was leading six hungry geezers in convoy. They couldn't see what I was seeing and the resulting pile-up of an emergency stop would have been an ugly sight.
More strangely clad staff floated past as we were invited to chose our table and then it dawned on us. It was Haloween ! You may think this should've been obvious, given the time of year but we'd been in Grays the week before and well.........
By the time we'd been served some of the best fish and chips ever, and by a pair of ghouls in hot pants, our smiles were as wide as Fern Britton's arse. I had the large cod out of a choice of regular, large and whale and ' large ' is a very modest way to describe the dolphin on my plate. If you ever go to Wetherby I implore you to do
' The Whaler '.
The audience were great and some had been pupils in another time. It still felt a bit strange, cooking up Rock 'n' Roll in a school assembly hall but the cocktail smells of perfume and beer transformed it enough to have them on their feet by the second half.
A most enjoyable evening and boy did we need that scary shower.
The final leg of this 'tourlet' ( small tour ) saw us heading for Scarborough. The weather thankfully changed from black sky and rain to blue sky and sun. This was just the stuff for a trip to the East Coast. It took a traffic warden to give us final directions and this was surprising on two fronts. First he was quite cheerful and second we understood what he was saying.
The Futurist Theatre is situated right down on the sea front in South Bay. It may have been futurist when it was designed and built but it's looking worn now. It's never encouraging seeing the name of the venue in giant letters but with three missing. I know Hollywood lived with a dropped letter in the hills for years but that's the heart of the world's movie industry , whereas Scarborough, possibly famous for a fair, according to Simon and Garfunkel, ( we couldn't bloody find it ), cannot afford to sport a ' distressed ' facia.
We found a nice cafe up on Blands Cliff ( the Sunflower ) and my home-made pie and mash was very tasty. After lunch we went off for a quick gander round the town and we must have been in the most heavily cafe populated area of Britain. They were all over the place and all seemed to charge £ 3. 95. The precinct is just like any other and so after a quick shop in Marks and Sparks for post show snackage, we headed back to the theatre.
The advance ticket sales were a trifle disappointing but the management assured us of a good walk-up ( punters who buy their tickets when they arrive at the theatre on the night of the show ).
He didn't lie. The audience doubled in size and though still a bit of a challenge, in such a barn of a place, the gig went very well. The audience couldn't complain as they were treated to two of everything. The place had such a big echo, they got twice as much as they'd paid for. This generous deal was not appreciated by all who attended and prompted one audience member to write to our website, accusing us of miming. The poor love didn't sound too well and my suspicions were confirmed when he actually admitted to being in a Beatles band that by his own admission mimed all the time. The delay in the extra notes the venue created just added to the confusion of an already very confused mind. Beware Scarborough somewhere out there is a miming Beatle Band that performs out of time to its own sound track.
After the show the sound of six gobs at work could be heard and when the final custard tart had been devoured whole, it was time to set off for home ( London ). At just gone 11pm we pulled out of a somewhat quiet town for a Saturday night and watched as THE F_ _ _RIST theatre disappeared into the night and out of sight.
Aye it were a grand three days.
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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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Barcelona 2/07/03
We arrived at Heathrow 7.45am. Very harrowing for a tribe of rock stars to be amassed at what is essentially " the milkmans hour " Keef hadn't hit the sack at all yet but was in the usual state of confusion when he realised the day was starting with him awake.
There at the airport was another collection of washed out musos. The SAS band and the Funkin' Barstewards were both joining us for this mega gig. There was also another bunch flying out from Birmingham. All together seven bands and all we were allowed to play was 20 mins.
We arrived at the hotel and after a long tedious check in ( seven bands and their luggage all at once ) we were picked up for a sound check. The thought on everyone's mind was let's get the sound check over and hit the bar. This was successfully achieved and we were winging our way back to the hotel within 3 hours.
All the bands split into their various clans and hit the town. We grabbed a couple of cabs and headed for the waterfront developement. After studying at least ten menus we opted for the one which was suitably busy, had room and a big paella choice.
The wine and the food was sensational and at a very reasonble price and lo and behold after an hour the Funkin' Barstewards arrived en masse. This was not planned but apparantly they were recommended by the hotel. I guess three months on tour had finely honed our gourmet skills and we'd found this baby out of the whole of Barcelona purely on our skill and instinct.
After the meal which lasted till about 1am we had to run the gauntlet of cabbing home. Because every f***er on the planet is still out and about, getting a cab is bit like spearing fish. However once again a band who have eaten slept and farted together for three long months develope an almost neanderthal hunting instinct and pretty soon we'd run rings around various knots of Dutch and other foreign tourists and we were winging our way back in lopsided yellow Mercs to the hotel bar.
AT first we the thought the place had all shut up for the night because the bar used earlier was closed but then we heard the distant grunts of drunk Australians. Elton Jack's mob were drinking somewhere and all we had to do was trace the noise. ( Elton Jack who's on the bill is a fantastic Elton John Act and they'd flown over from Oz ). We found the secret bar and in we dived.
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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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Swansea, The Grand Theatre, Tuesday 13th May
Swansea has a fine selection of dressing rooms and so " hogging " has not broken out. The weather is changeable. One minute brilliant hot sunshine and then Very black menacing clouds.
We all eat up stairs in a place called Tiffanys and it's fair fayre but nothing to guff your gusset over. I have a quick look around the town and have to get back for more radio interviews. AFter that I stretch out on the sofa in my dressing room, read a little Graham Greene and have a nap. Just as I'm really relaxing I panic about how bunged up I'm getting and head off into town for some decongestant.
Dave and Dot arrive for merchandising and I have a quick cuppa front of house with them before the show. Apart from the disappointment of an unripe avocado the day ends well and we're all looking forward to a few days at home after Salisbury tomorrow. We get to the hotel in Newport about 1.30 and as knackered as I am I exercise extreme patience when the checking in lady can't work the computer.
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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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Monday 12th May Brecon
We left the hotel in nasty grey but as we entered Wales the sun came out and it turned very hot. We'd not played Brecon for three years but we all remembered that the Theatre is brand new and complete luxury. Lots of dressing rooms that are clean and comfortable. There's a lovely smell of cooking in the building. Cooking smells can sometimes be offensive but this was delicious. I tracked it down to a new restaurant and was disappointed to find that I was too late for lunch but I had a cuppa and chatted with the chef and then had to do some phone interviews with BBC Wales. After that I caught up with the others who'd found The Salad Bowl. I had the roast chicken dinner and it was superb. Very cheap and tasty. Then I did a shop session in Safeways and headed back for soundcheck. On the way back I called in at our hotel, The Landsdowne. Again lovely cooking smells. The owner remembered us from before but couldn't believe it was three years since our last visit.
I'm full of cold on this day and worried about the gob but I'm confident I'll get through it somehow.
AFter the show we all headed to the bar and drank till they asked us to leave. We staggered down to the hotel and after climbing a very steep, narrow and crooked set of stairs fell into the room with my heavy luggage. The first job when getting into the room is to hang out every stage garment and wig and set them up for airing and drying. This was not easy in this tiny cluttered room but I just about managed it. I feasted on my goodies from Safeways and then gobbled down the courtesy Jammy Dogers with a cup of hot chocolate.
I programmed the white bedside clock radio until I could get Radio 2 and slunk under the bri Nylon eiderdown into a bed that was so soft the mattress wrapped around me like the arms of Russian relative who'd not seen me for 20 years.
I left the window wide open for passage clearing purposes and went off into the most magnificent sleep. The gig was very good by the way and a nice surprise. I'd expected a reserved audience but they were lively for a Monday night. Swansea tomorrow.
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| Posted By: Nick Dagger |
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Exeter St Georges Hall 11th May 2003
Yeah a bit out of date on the diary but I'm gonna try and catch up with most of the gigs. Exeter is a big town but it doesn't have the best choice of venues for our type of show. It wasn't easy to find but you develope a special kind of nose and after nearly mowing down a few students we came across St Georges Hall. I think dear ol' St Georges has seen better days and the first thing I notice is the number of " smell zones " in the place. On the stone stairs it was mainly a disinfectant odour, the dressing rooms smelled of damp. The corridors had a strong tinge of stale cooking oil and slipping out the loos came a waft of sewage. All venues have a stale honk but this was unique in it's zonal variety. After the dressing room grab that always takes place it was off to lunch. In the grey day that it was the only suitable place on a Sunday that we could find was Puccinos. It was very nice and anywhere that offers all day breakfast is good news for a band. Especially after a horrible experience with an Ilfracombe Haddock.
On returning to the venue for soundcheck we quickly discovered that above the stage daylight was pouring through a glass ceiling. Black paint that had originally been blocking out this light had peeled off and no repair made. This was a worry because of how it would affect the stage lights and the projector screen. It got solved but I can't remember how. The crew and everyone working there were most friendly and helpful and whilst we didn't do maximum business the crowd that were there were great.
As the last drop of gear was being loaded into the truck, Bill our PA man was mercilessly mooned by all members fron the dressing room window, three floors up.
Oh how we laughed all the way to the Taunton Travel Inn.
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| Posted By: The Band |
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Ilfracombe
It was a wet and windy day when we arrived at Illfracombe. After driving about a bit and eventually getting to the venue there was no-one to let us in! After a bout of door kicking someone went around to the front of the building to let us in, but meanwhile a very friendly (not) local fisherman came and told us off for kicking the door. Twat. Why wasnít he more interested in saving the fish instead of killing them? And why did he think it was his business anyway?
After settling in a cooking myself a lovely english breakfast (lucky ëcos the rest of the band had what they said was the worst food on the tour so far) I went for a look about the town. It is a beatiful place. The view from the dressingrooms is unsurpassed in beauty, a lovely rocky cliff with the sea rolling up and crashing heavily on the shore. Also behind the theatre I found a beautiful landscaped garden where I sat and had a quiet ciggarette looking out over the sea. Very relaxing after a quite horrible winding road to get to the gig.
The theatre itself was very cool too. It was round inside and out and the sold out audience were really up for a good time, though they took a little while to get up dancing. There were some lovely young ladies in too that night which always makes the band more livley! Hello blondie!! The show went well with only a few technical flaws and a good time was had by all. I russled up a nice vegitarian cous cous thing for dinner which was well tasty and then we were off to the travel inn for a good nights sleep. I will be going back there some time to explore it further, I love the hills and coastline around there, it really is special.
Bye for now, take care.
Ronnie B bad?
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| Posted By: Nicky Popkiss |
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Potters Bar.
The joy with this gig was that we got to drive down in our own cars. This should have been fun but unfortunately both myself and Ronnie didnít have a clue where Potters Bar was. And we didnít have a map to figure it out. This made it interesting. But in the end we did get to the gig with the minimum of detours. Only went one junction too far on the M1.
So we found Potters Bar and got to the gig venue (after passing a heinous crime in shop names; ìPotters Bar-bersî anyone?)
After ditching the bags and various other items, we went for our usual food search. Not needing a cafe as we had eaten just before leaving our homes. Safeways was right next door and so we ventured in with an ill-placed confidence fully expecting to find sandwiches. Not a sausage. They apparently hadnít been delivered that day and so we had to leave sandwich-less and search for another eatery that would sell me what I craved.
Nowhere else had one for sale. All the sandwich shops were either closed or empty! A travesty! So still reeling from that I needed to buy some luggage for my newly acquired suits as they were all hung on hangers and so didnít really enjoy being crammed into bags every night.
Even less luck there. The luggage shop was having a sale but it was so popular that they had completely run out by the time that we had got there. Fresh from this defeat we returned to the theatre and I tried to come to terms with what had just happened. Thatís when two little kids decided to set off the fire alarm. Lets say that they were not thought of in the highest regard by most people around the theatre. They were caught though and Iíve never seen kids looking so tearful and afraid that their parents might find out. After all that excitement we were expecting to have a fairly relaxed gig by contrast, but the audience werenít going to let us do that. They were very raucous and that was most helpful in getting me over the sandwich blues. After that it was just a matter of getting the stuff packed and getting the hell out. Which was very fast and meant we got home before midnight! Unheard of!
Lets hope more of these occur.
Nicky
xx
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| Posted By: Keef Rickard |
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Well we have returned from a nice Easter break and headed up to Worcester. Funky little hall I must say! It really added a religious aspect to the whole proceedings! This is also the loction of the nicest scoff of the tour so far; Puchinni's is the mutts nuts for Italian food. Top quality chow we all agreed! See ya around. xx
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| Posted By: Keef Rickard |
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Ah, back in Northampton, the Dearngate. Always a good night to be had here and once again we weren't dissapointed. Not much happened in the foraging before the show, just a quick nose around the market's second-hand record stalls and some nosh. Days off are looming now so all in the party are ready to kick back (except Bill & Rich who have gigs!). See you on the other side. xx
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