Monday 11th June
We arrived in Seattle pretty late and for the third gig in a row Brakes passed on a sound check, as did ESP. I was just starting to count out the merchandise, which was in a dire mess after the debacle at the border, when first band, The Hands, started playing. There was something familiar about their first song, I'd never seen them before so the chances that id ever heard the song were slim. Then, with my head in a box full of ladies fit ESP shirts, it hit me. They'd taken the lyrics of bohemian rhapsody and worked it into a new song. Bit weird.
Chop Suey was a good-sized venue, Chinese lanterns and a ceremonial dragon hanging from the ceiling to complete the theme. By the time ESP took to the stage I had organised all the merchandise and was ready to start selling. Being the third night in a row that Tom and Alex had done 2 sets a night, they were obviously fatigued. Additional sound problems didn't help and their set was a bit of a struggle. They got through it ok though. Pela did their spot and then Brakes went on. There was a bit of fine-tuning to be done due to the lack of sound-check but once we got going we gave Seattle a good show. The crowd was a bit lippy but I think they liked it. We were certainly tired though and after the show I felt utterly done in.
Plan was to drive a little way out of town before finding somewhere to stay so we loaded up quickly and set off. I must have fallen asleep but was woken by everyone drunkenly guffawing at something. A little while later we pulled up to a small town called North Bend where we found a motel and got our heads down for a bit of sleep. Morning came quickly and upon looking out of the window I realised the town was flanked by two colossal jagged mountains. It turned out that we were in Twin Peaks country, the area of Washington State where David Lynch's surreal murder mystery series was filmed. I tried not to get too excited about it because I knew we had to leave fairly soon. We did have time, however, to have breakfast in a café, advertising 'cherry pie and a damn fine cup of coffee'.
Back on the road and we had a lot of driving ahead of us. I think this was the longest drive we had on the whole tour, crossing 3 states in the process. Leaving Washington we crossed into Oregon, which has to be one of the most geographically diverse states in the country. It seemed to skip from vast mountain terrain to barren farmland in the blink of an eye. Or maybe I was just going insane by that point.
These drives can be mentally torturing so its important to keep occupied. We all have our own ways of passing the time, from reading books to playing computer games to writing this blog. After eventually leaving Oregon we crossed into Idaho and pulled in to a town called Boise. This would be our resting place for the night. We all got a cab into town and had a late dinner at a restaurant where the wine tasted funny and the food was crap. Back in the motel car park, those of us who were sleeping on the bus were having a few beers when suddenly a small moustached man in a cap that read 'SECURITY' came and thumped on the RV door. "Are you registered here sir?" he asked me once id opened the door. I explained what the situation was and he suspiciously backed down and went back to his little hut looking slightly disappointed that he didn't have to get heavy on our arses.
Tom swears a ghost visited the RV that night, Alex and I didn't hear shit but a few others have mentioned that they reckon there could be an unworldly presence on board. The vehicle's previous owners were an old couple that had died with it still in their possession so it's not all that unfeasible, if you believe in any of that stuff. We got back on the road and continued our epic drive to Salt Lake City. The Idaho landscape was more desolate than I could have imagined. I found it best just to not look out the window at some points. The enormity of this country just bewilders me. At one point we got semi lost while taking a detour. The road was empty, winding its way through endless farmland, nothing but snow-capped mountains far away on the horizon. It was quite beautiful scenery but all I could think about was what would happen if we ran out of petrol. I wasn't sure how we'd got into this situation but I got a bit nervous when I heard Andy discussing the proposed route with Alex up the front. "If we head between those two mountains we should be alright" he said. Luckily he was right and about half an hour later we were off the scary road and back on the interstate.
Other than its fame as being the Mecca of the Mormon Faith, I wasn't sure what else went on in Salt Lake City. Knowing that drinking, smoking and swearing were probably all something of a taboo in this town, we went in with a hesitant sense of trepidation. After a radio session in South Ogden we drove into the city centre towards the venue.
Kilby Court was literally a shack with a yard down a dirt track. I can imagine some bands wouldn't be too pleased to turn up and play a place like this but we were well up for it. A local band, Genre, was bringing all the people so we let them play last. They were pretty young as were their audience who mostly came in fancy dress. It sounded pretty good in there surprisingly and we all had a good evening. Most of the kids were oblivious to who we were or where we'd come from so the shack was pretty empty when we first took the stage. The Pela guys did a good thing for us and managed to convince all the kids to come in and check us out. Before long we had about 50 kids in fancy dress dancing manically to our songs. Genre played after us and were dressed as strangely as their audience, the bassist donning a big green fish's head as a hat. They were quite entertaining really. The whole thing reminded me of Brighton's Free Butt when I was about 15 and playing in bands. God that makes me sound old! We stopped off at a Mexican place for a bite to eat on our way out of town. Matt won a toy ghost from one of those drop claw games and then we got back on the road.
Predictably I nodded off again and when I woke we were up a mountain outside a Great Western hotel and it was snowing.
After a painfully short amount of sleep we were back on the bus and heading further inland and towards the Rocky Mountains. The higher we went the snowier it got until we were driving through a blizzard and the whole of Wyoming was a whitewash. The wing mirrors began to collect thick, icy lumps of compacted snow on them and the weather seemed relentless.
Strangely, as soon as we crossed the Colorado border, the weather let up and the snow dispersed. To our right the western edge of the Rockies loomed down on us as we headed south down into Denver.
The venue Hi-Dive was joined to a bar/restaurant called Sputnik. Id been recommended their Cuban Pork Sandwich and it didn't disappoint, in fact all the food there was amazing and made a welcome change to the sloppy road food we'd been subjected to so far. I take my words back about American food, after a few days it starts doing some odd things to you. We're now all eating far more cautiously. Hi-Dive was a cool place, about 300 capacity, long bar, pool table out back and a really good sound on stage. ESP had a good one that night, as did Pela. When it came to Brakes' slot quite a few of the punters had left but it was pretty late by then. It was a good show regardless.
We had a few shots with the staff afterwards and then went on our way. From the little id seen of Denver it seemed like a nice place, definitely somewhere id consider returning to. We're travelling across this country at such a pace that it's hard to get an impression of anywhere at all. I'd promised myself I was going to try and explore the cities we play as much as possible but there just hasn't been time and I don't think any of us have the energy. Luckily, just from meeting some of the people and being well looked after at the venue, I could tell Denver was a good town.
That night we stopped off for our few hours sleep in a town called Brighton thinking it would be a nice reminder of home. We're always late leaving Brighton on time back home and even though we were in another country, thousands of miles away, there was no exception this time. Sheer exhaustion had taken its toll and we all overslept putting our departure time back a couple of hours. The drive to Omaha, Nebraska was going to be one of the last long drives we had to face and our slumber had just made it harder. We were crossing a time zone too so an hour would be lost. Andy did some brilliant driving that day and by keeping our stopping time to a minimum we managed to get into Omaha just after 8pm.
The drive had left us all a bit tense but the feeling soon lifted when the gig got underway. Unfortunately the Omaha based label Saddle Creek had just opened its own club downtown and were showcasing 5 of their bands for a $2 entry. There was no way a couple of limey bands and one from Brooklyn could compete with that, and to make matters worse there was some kind of Omaha festival going on too. It was a shame because it was a nice venue with a really good sound system. We didn't let it dampen our spirits though; we were just pleased to be there and the few folk who did show up were all really nice. Pela were especially good that night and we were all won over by them. They're such a nice bunch of guys and a fucking good band. It was Nate's (Pela lead guitarist) birthday so we opened our set with a Brakes style birthday tune, written on the spot. We had a good show and got quite merry afterwards. There was coin-operated laundry at the hotel so Eamon, Matthew and myself gave our clothes a much-needed wash. Next to the laundry room was the gym so while we waited we had a drunken, late night workout.
The drive up to Minneapolis the next day was fairly uneventful. We crossed through Iowa, the pig farming state of the USA and boy did it whiff. When we turned up at the 400 Bar it was a warm, early evening and for the first time since LA, Brakes had time to sound-check.
This was a legendary place, home to Husker Du and The Replacements; it certainly had some history. After some dinner I got the merchandise set up and the evening got under way with ESP's fantastic opening set. Two drunks guys came up and asked me why we weren't accepting 'plastic' on the merchandise. "You'll sell a whole lot more if you're taking plastic" said the one with the red nose in a telling off sort of tone. As much as I could appreciate his advice I'm not sure it's too easy for a British band to apply for a card swipe machine. You'd probably have to register as a business in the states and fill out endless paperwork but ultimately you'd have to be a US citizen as well. Even after he'd ranted at me he ended up paying cash anyway.
For a bit of a change Brakes decided to do the set we'd been roughly doing for the whole tour, but the other way round. It kept us on our toes and made for a great gig, definitely my favourite of the tour so far. I got drunk on Guinness and Icelandic vodka afterwards and the best part was that all the drinks were free. Somehow an inebriated, bimbo, mother of 2 who was intent on driving herself home had made her way onto our bus and some of the guys were trying to convince her to get a taxi. She could hardly stand and eventually wobbled off to the store to get some cigarettes and then hopefully take a cab to wherever she was going. We made our way out of Minneapolis unaware that we were soon to experience another shocking example of America's drink driving problems.
Again I fell asleep on the way out of town and when I woke it was later than any of us would have liked. We'd crossed into Wisconsin and had stopped somewhere down the I-94. Eamon, Priesty and myself were kipping on the bus that night. Just as we were getting the beds out and the others were gathering their bags Andy came running up to the bus in a state of mild panic. "Get rid of everything!" he said gasping for breath. "The police are coming, get the beer bottles out of sight". He then told me I had to come with him and started running towards the motel's side entrance. I followed hastily wearing no shoes and just before we got to the door Andy turned to me and said "there's probably a dead guy in here". I was so tired that the whole episode played out like some kind of surreal movie scene. We went through the door where straight ahead was a long bright, white corridor. Then on the right, a dark stairwell where, on the first landing lay a man caked in blood, out cold. On closer inspection it was quite obvious he wasn't dead because he was breathing heavily, almost snoring. I could tell that his unconsciousness was most likely caused by consuming too much alcohol rather than any injuries he'd sustained, but his nose was bashed in and he had a big cut on his hand. We alerted the guy on reception who called the police and I returned to the bus, once id taken this photo of him.
The three of us bus sleepers sat in the RV, drinking and chatting while the paramedics stretchered the guy away. The police were investigating the immediate vicinity and just as we thought they'd all cleared we got a hefty thump on the door. Priesty opened it up to find a moustached cop with a flashlight. "You boys know anything about that guy?" he said. We played down our knowledge of the incident claiming we'd heard about it but we'd only just arrived. "So what you boys been up to tonight?" he then asked, to which Priesty, drunk and mischievous, jokingly replied, "Oh we've just been doing some heroin". This probably wasn't the wisest thing to say but we all started pissing ourselves regardless, including the cop who then slammed the door in our faces as if to demonstrate his discontent at having his time wasted. Priesty stood there screaming, overjoyed with himself, ecstatic at the fact that he'd told a US cop he'd been doing hard drugs and had gotten away with it. Eamon and I couldn't quite believe what had just happened but it was certainly extremely funny if not asking for trouble somewhat. That cop must have been one of a kind, much to our favour.
It turned out that the beat up guy had crashed his car down the road, hauled himself out of the wreck and stumbled down the highway until finding his way into the motel and crashing out on the stairs where we found him. I only hope nothing similar had happened to the incapable woman we'd left in Minneapolis only a few hours ago. After 4 hours sleep we got back on the road and drove southeast through Wisconsin on our way to Chicago. Wisconsin was an attractively verdant state that wasn't dissimilar looking to our home nation. What with that and having had a detailed conversation with someone about Scotland the previous night, it was only now that the notion of homesickness had entered my mind. Not that I was feeling that way, it was just that now we were coming into our final week of the tour, the idea of leaving this mental country and returning to a UK in the waking days of summer was quite an attractive prospect.
We rolled into Chicago and loaded into the empty bottle club, all of us shockingly tired from lack of sleep the night before. I had a few beers, which almost sent me to sleep and then got to work on the merchandise. There was a house cat at this place, a 15-year-old black feline that just wandered around the venue looking for somewhere to sleep.
ESP did their set and almost instantly people started buying stuff from me. Everyone was very chatty and friendly. One guy turned up with his wife but had missed ESP because they'd been to a Fergie concert downtown. Its good to have a broad taste in music but that's just bizarre. A guy called Jamie who I know from Brixton band The Taylors turned up surprisingly. He'd moved out there a while back and I'd totally forgotten about it, always good to have familiar faces turn up randomly though. Pela had a tough one that night, a couple of them were a bit ill and their monitors weren't working or something. It was a shame but it still sounded good out front. I think they'll appreciate the day off, they need it. We all do.
I had a wee twinge of pre gig denial before we went on but just got up there and did it. It turned out to be the best show yet. Our monitors were fairly non-existent as well but we just played through it. We've hit that comfortable zone where the playing becomes second nature and we can just have fun. There were some crazy dancing people, always a nice addition, all in all, fucking good gig in Chicago. Of course we didn't get to see any of the town other than a faint skyline as we drove in but the show was splendid.
I am now sat in a hotel room resisting going to sleep. We're donning our tourist hats for the next few days and heading up to Niagara Falls for a family outing. It feels satisfying to have come across this stupidly sized continent, playing in places we've never been and come out the other side in one piece and having had a pretty damn good time. One week left now including the grand finale of three nights in NYC. Some crazy shit is going to go down, that's for sure.
We arrived in Seattle pretty late and for the third gig in a row Brakes passed on a sound check, as did ESP. I was just starting to count out the merchandise, which was in a dire mess after the debacle at the border, when first band, The Hands, started playing. There was something familiar about their first song, I'd never seen them before so the chances that id ever heard the song were slim. Then, with my head in a box full of ladies fit ESP shirts, it hit me. They'd taken the lyrics of bohemian rhapsody and worked it into a new song. Bit weird.
Chop Suey was a good-sized venue, Chinese lanterns and a ceremonial dragon hanging from the ceiling to complete the theme. By the time ESP took to the stage I had organised all the merchandise and was ready to start selling. Being the third night in a row that Tom and Alex had done 2 sets a night, they were obviously fatigued. Additional sound problems didn't help and their set was a bit of a struggle. They got through it ok though. Pela did their spot and then Brakes went on. There was a bit of fine-tuning to be done due to the lack of sound-check but once we got going we gave Seattle a good show. The crowd was a bit lippy but I think they liked it. We were certainly tired though and after the show I felt utterly done in.
Plan was to drive a little way out of town before finding somewhere to stay so we loaded up quickly and set off. I must have fallen asleep but was woken by everyone drunkenly guffawing at something. A little while later we pulled up to a small town called North Bend where we found a motel and got our heads down for a bit of sleep. Morning came quickly and upon looking out of the window I realised the town was flanked by two colossal jagged mountains. It turned out that we were in Twin Peaks country, the area of Washington State where David Lynch's surreal murder mystery series was filmed. I tried not to get too excited about it because I knew we had to leave fairly soon. We did have time, however, to have breakfast in a café, advertising 'cherry pie and a damn fine cup of coffee'.
Back on the road and we had a lot of driving ahead of us. I think this was the longest drive we had on the whole tour, crossing 3 states in the process. Leaving Washington we crossed into Oregon, which has to be one of the most geographically diverse states in the country. It seemed to skip from vast mountain terrain to barren farmland in the blink of an eye. Or maybe I was just going insane by that point.
These drives can be mentally torturing so its important to keep occupied. We all have our own ways of passing the time, from reading books to playing computer games to writing this blog. After eventually leaving Oregon we crossed into Idaho and pulled in to a town called Boise. This would be our resting place for the night. We all got a cab into town and had a late dinner at a restaurant where the wine tasted funny and the food was crap. Back in the motel car park, those of us who were sleeping on the bus were having a few beers when suddenly a small moustached man in a cap that read 'SECURITY' came and thumped on the RV door. "Are you registered here sir?" he asked me once id opened the door. I explained what the situation was and he suspiciously backed down and went back to his little hut looking slightly disappointed that he didn't have to get heavy on our arses.
Tom swears a ghost visited the RV that night, Alex and I didn't hear shit but a few others have mentioned that they reckon there could be an unworldly presence on board. The vehicle's previous owners were an old couple that had died with it still in their possession so it's not all that unfeasible, if you believe in any of that stuff. We got back on the road and continued our epic drive to Salt Lake City. The Idaho landscape was more desolate than I could have imagined. I found it best just to not look out the window at some points. The enormity of this country just bewilders me. At one point we got semi lost while taking a detour. The road was empty, winding its way through endless farmland, nothing but snow-capped mountains far away on the horizon. It was quite beautiful scenery but all I could think about was what would happen if we ran out of petrol. I wasn't sure how we'd got into this situation but I got a bit nervous when I heard Andy discussing the proposed route with Alex up the front. "If we head between those two mountains we should be alright" he said. Luckily he was right and about half an hour later we were off the scary road and back on the interstate.
Other than its fame as being the Mecca of the Mormon Faith, I wasn't sure what else went on in Salt Lake City. Knowing that drinking, smoking and swearing were probably all something of a taboo in this town, we went in with a hesitant sense of trepidation. After a radio session in South Ogden we drove into the city centre towards the venue.
Kilby Court was literally a shack with a yard down a dirt track. I can imagine some bands wouldn't be too pleased to turn up and play a place like this but we were well up for it. A local band, Genre, was bringing all the people so we let them play last. They were pretty young as were their audience who mostly came in fancy dress. It sounded pretty good in there surprisingly and we all had a good evening. Most of the kids were oblivious to who we were or where we'd come from so the shack was pretty empty when we first took the stage. The Pela guys did a good thing for us and managed to convince all the kids to come in and check us out. Before long we had about 50 kids in fancy dress dancing manically to our songs. Genre played after us and were dressed as strangely as their audience, the bassist donning a big green fish's head as a hat. They were quite entertaining really. The whole thing reminded me of Brighton's Free Butt when I was about 15 and playing in bands. God that makes me sound old! We stopped off at a Mexican place for a bite to eat on our way out of town. Matt won a toy ghost from one of those drop claw games and then we got back on the road.
Predictably I nodded off again and when I woke we were up a mountain outside a Great Western hotel and it was snowing.
After a painfully short amount of sleep we were back on the bus and heading further inland and towards the Rocky Mountains. The higher we went the snowier it got until we were driving through a blizzard and the whole of Wyoming was a whitewash. The wing mirrors began to collect thick, icy lumps of compacted snow on them and the weather seemed relentless.
Strangely, as soon as we crossed the Colorado border, the weather let up and the snow dispersed. To our right the western edge of the Rockies loomed down on us as we headed south down into Denver.
The venue Hi-Dive was joined to a bar/restaurant called Sputnik. Id been recommended their Cuban Pork Sandwich and it didn't disappoint, in fact all the food there was amazing and made a welcome change to the sloppy road food we'd been subjected to so far. I take my words back about American food, after a few days it starts doing some odd things to you. We're now all eating far more cautiously. Hi-Dive was a cool place, about 300 capacity, long bar, pool table out back and a really good sound on stage. ESP had a good one that night, as did Pela. When it came to Brakes' slot quite a few of the punters had left but it was pretty late by then. It was a good show regardless.
We had a few shots with the staff afterwards and then went on our way. From the little id seen of Denver it seemed like a nice place, definitely somewhere id consider returning to. We're travelling across this country at such a pace that it's hard to get an impression of anywhere at all. I'd promised myself I was going to try and explore the cities we play as much as possible but there just hasn't been time and I don't think any of us have the energy. Luckily, just from meeting some of the people and being well looked after at the venue, I could tell Denver was a good town.
That night we stopped off for our few hours sleep in a town called Brighton thinking it would be a nice reminder of home. We're always late leaving Brighton on time back home and even though we were in another country, thousands of miles away, there was no exception this time. Sheer exhaustion had taken its toll and we all overslept putting our departure time back a couple of hours. The drive to Omaha, Nebraska was going to be one of the last long drives we had to face and our slumber had just made it harder. We were crossing a time zone too so an hour would be lost. Andy did some brilliant driving that day and by keeping our stopping time to a minimum we managed to get into Omaha just after 8pm.
The drive had left us all a bit tense but the feeling soon lifted when the gig got underway. Unfortunately the Omaha based label Saddle Creek had just opened its own club downtown and were showcasing 5 of their bands for a $2 entry. There was no way a couple of limey bands and one from Brooklyn could compete with that, and to make matters worse there was some kind of Omaha festival going on too. It was a shame because it was a nice venue with a really good sound system. We didn't let it dampen our spirits though; we were just pleased to be there and the few folk who did show up were all really nice. Pela were especially good that night and we were all won over by them. They're such a nice bunch of guys and a fucking good band. It was Nate's (Pela lead guitarist) birthday so we opened our set with a Brakes style birthday tune, written on the spot. We had a good show and got quite merry afterwards. There was coin-operated laundry at the hotel so Eamon, Matthew and myself gave our clothes a much-needed wash. Next to the laundry room was the gym so while we waited we had a drunken, late night workout.
The drive up to Minneapolis the next day was fairly uneventful. We crossed through Iowa, the pig farming state of the USA and boy did it whiff. When we turned up at the 400 Bar it was a warm, early evening and for the first time since LA, Brakes had time to sound-check.
This was a legendary place, home to Husker Du and The Replacements; it certainly had some history. After some dinner I got the merchandise set up and the evening got under way with ESP's fantastic opening set. Two drunks guys came up and asked me why we weren't accepting 'plastic' on the merchandise. "You'll sell a whole lot more if you're taking plastic" said the one with the red nose in a telling off sort of tone. As much as I could appreciate his advice I'm not sure it's too easy for a British band to apply for a card swipe machine. You'd probably have to register as a business in the states and fill out endless paperwork but ultimately you'd have to be a US citizen as well. Even after he'd ranted at me he ended up paying cash anyway.
For a bit of a change Brakes decided to do the set we'd been roughly doing for the whole tour, but the other way round. It kept us on our toes and made for a great gig, definitely my favourite of the tour so far. I got drunk on Guinness and Icelandic vodka afterwards and the best part was that all the drinks were free. Somehow an inebriated, bimbo, mother of 2 who was intent on driving herself home had made her way onto our bus and some of the guys were trying to convince her to get a taxi. She could hardly stand and eventually wobbled off to the store to get some cigarettes and then hopefully take a cab to wherever she was going. We made our way out of Minneapolis unaware that we were soon to experience another shocking example of America's drink driving problems.
Again I fell asleep on the way out of town and when I woke it was later than any of us would have liked. We'd crossed into Wisconsin and had stopped somewhere down the I-94. Eamon, Priesty and myself were kipping on the bus that night. Just as we were getting the beds out and the others were gathering their bags Andy came running up to the bus in a state of mild panic. "Get rid of everything!" he said gasping for breath. "The police are coming, get the beer bottles out of sight". He then told me I had to come with him and started running towards the motel's side entrance. I followed hastily wearing no shoes and just before we got to the door Andy turned to me and said "there's probably a dead guy in here". I was so tired that the whole episode played out like some kind of surreal movie scene. We went through the door where straight ahead was a long bright, white corridor. Then on the right, a dark stairwell where, on the first landing lay a man caked in blood, out cold. On closer inspection it was quite obvious he wasn't dead because he was breathing heavily, almost snoring. I could tell that his unconsciousness was most likely caused by consuming too much alcohol rather than any injuries he'd sustained, but his nose was bashed in and he had a big cut on his hand. We alerted the guy on reception who called the police and I returned to the bus, once id taken this photo of him.
The three of us bus sleepers sat in the RV, drinking and chatting while the paramedics stretchered the guy away. The police were investigating the immediate vicinity and just as we thought they'd all cleared we got a hefty thump on the door. Priesty opened it up to find a moustached cop with a flashlight. "You boys know anything about that guy?" he said. We played down our knowledge of the incident claiming we'd heard about it but we'd only just arrived. "So what you boys been up to tonight?" he then asked, to which Priesty, drunk and mischievous, jokingly replied, "Oh we've just been doing some heroin". This probably wasn't the wisest thing to say but we all started pissing ourselves regardless, including the cop who then slammed the door in our faces as if to demonstrate his discontent at having his time wasted. Priesty stood there screaming, overjoyed with himself, ecstatic at the fact that he'd told a US cop he'd been doing hard drugs and had gotten away with it. Eamon and I couldn't quite believe what had just happened but it was certainly extremely funny if not asking for trouble somewhat. That cop must have been one of a kind, much to our favour.
It turned out that the beat up guy had crashed his car down the road, hauled himself out of the wreck and stumbled down the highway until finding his way into the motel and crashing out on the stairs where we found him. I only hope nothing similar had happened to the incapable woman we'd left in Minneapolis only a few hours ago. After 4 hours sleep we got back on the road and drove southeast through Wisconsin on our way to Chicago. Wisconsin was an attractively verdant state that wasn't dissimilar looking to our home nation. What with that and having had a detailed conversation with someone about Scotland the previous night, it was only now that the notion of homesickness had entered my mind. Not that I was feeling that way, it was just that now we were coming into our final week of the tour, the idea of leaving this mental country and returning to a UK in the waking days of summer was quite an attractive prospect.
We rolled into Chicago and loaded into the empty bottle club, all of us shockingly tired from lack of sleep the night before. I had a few beers, which almost sent me to sleep and then got to work on the merchandise. There was a house cat at this place, a 15-year-old black feline that just wandered around the venue looking for somewhere to sleep.
ESP did their set and almost instantly people started buying stuff from me. Everyone was very chatty and friendly. One guy turned up with his wife but had missed ESP because they'd been to a Fergie concert downtown. Its good to have a broad taste in music but that's just bizarre. A guy called Jamie who I know from Brixton band The Taylors turned up surprisingly. He'd moved out there a while back and I'd totally forgotten about it, always good to have familiar faces turn up randomly though. Pela had a tough one that night, a couple of them were a bit ill and their monitors weren't working or something. It was a shame but it still sounded good out front. I think they'll appreciate the day off, they need it. We all do.
I had a wee twinge of pre gig denial before we went on but just got up there and did it. It turned out to be the best show yet. Our monitors were fairly non-existent as well but we just played through it. We've hit that comfortable zone where the playing becomes second nature and we can just have fun. There were some crazy dancing people, always a nice addition, all in all, fucking good gig in Chicago. Of course we didn't get to see any of the town other than a faint skyline as we drove in but the show was splendid.
I am now sat in a hotel room resisting going to sleep. We're donning our tourist hats for the next few days and heading up to Niagara Falls for a family outing. It feels satisfying to have come across this stupidly sized continent, playing in places we've never been and come out the other side in one piece and having had a pretty damn good time. One week left now including the grand finale of three nights in NYC. Some crazy shit is going to go down, that's for sure.
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