Thursday 31st May 2007
It was two days before tour started and Brighton was wet. On the Monday it literally rained all day and having caught an early flight down from Glasgow I was tired, soaked through and really feeling quite shit. Despite knowing better I resorted to the usual hometown activity of sharing more than a few libations and laughs with friends in some old haunts. It was enough to distract me from the looming nervousness I was experiencing. It was a long time coming but we were finally setting off to tour America and Canada.
Wednesday came around and Eamon and I boarded our flight to Los Angeles where we'd rendezvous with Tom, Alex, tour manager Andrew and ESP's rhythm section Matt and Mathew. ESP had gone out a week earlier for a mini tour of the west coast playing mainly in places called San something. The flight was quite empty so all on board got to stretch their legs a bit and just under 10 hours later we began to descend into California. The city looked vast and heaving, roads longer than you could see channelling an endless stream of cars and trucks through block upon block of sprawling metropolis. We got through customs and immigration at a snail's pace as usual. Once we'd been checked, scanned and bureaucratically stamped several times we were let through with our bags and guitars to seek further transportation. We'd been instructed to meet the others at a Long Beach record store called Fingerprintz where ESP were due to play an in-store. After a shuttle bus journey that seemed to take forever, we arrived there safely.
The record store was a sweet place; they had more CD's than they knew what to do with, all genres, used and brand new. It transpired that the owner Rand was a big Tenderfoot fan, which was a nice surprise. Our colleagues were yet to arrive so we decided to go and have a paddle at the nearby beach.
It was the first time id ever seen the Pacific Ocean and it gave me a new perspective on the size of the world. After this profundity we headed back to the store, amusingly saluted by a passing hell's angel on the way. ESP arrived in true style, snapping a memorial tree in half by driving the overhang of our rented RV into it.
Rand was glad because now everyone could see his sign from the other side of the street. Oddly the Police were called in to deal with the situation who quickly cordoned off the area and hacked the ex tree into pieces ready for removal. We've now taken to calling Andrew Lumberjack or any other tree felling related nickname.
The in-store was good for ESP, a nice turnout and plenty of signing to be done afterwards. It's good to see that they have an enthusiastic following stateside. When everything was wrapped up there we all boarded our RV where I fell asleep uncontrollably. Sometime later I was woken up, we'd reached our destination, the apartment of ESP's US label boss who was kindly letting us stay there. I had no idea where I was, what day it was or what was going on. The jetlag had hit hard but Eamon and myself had done well to see the day out.
After a refreshing sleep we awoke to day one of the brakesbrakesbrakes, Pela and Electric Soft Parade tour. The apartment we were at was in an area called Sherman Oaks, just below Mullholland Drive, north of Hollywood. Around the corner was an original 50's diner called Mel's Diner where we had breakfast. It's not just the body clock that needs adjusting on such a trip. American food can take a bit of getting used to too. There's always more than you need but it doesn't really fill you up, just makes you feel a bit queasy. Their burgers are brilliant though, in moderation of course as I reckon it's probably the fat content that makes them taste good. ESP had a radio session at Indie 103.3 early in the afternoon so we drove into Hollywood and dropped them off at the station. Whilst waiting in the RV a Dodge van pulled up in front of us with 'Pela, Brooklyn, New York' written into the dirt on the back. It was our middle support band for the tour and coincidentally they were booked to do a session straight after Tom and Alex. It was a good opportunity to introduce ourselves, so out we bounded and got ourselves acquainted. They were nice guys, very New York, good sense of humour and friendly. It was a relief because there is nothing worse than having to tour with a band you don't really get on with.
We arrived at Spaceland, that night's venue, a bit early so we tested out our new brakesbrakesbrakes custom hacky sacks in the parking lot. A new addition to the merchandise that is both fun and good exercise. The jetlag was really messing with my brain but sheer excitement was keeping me going. The venue started to fill up and ESP played to a good crowd. Being LA there was a varied mob assembled including lesbians, transvestites, a man in a space suit and another man in a kilt. Sat on the merchandise stand I had a good view of the place filling up. Pela went down well and sounded good and then it was our turn. We played a well-stacked set and it was great fun. There were a couple of idiot hecklers but that just made us play harder. Everyone was in a great mood afterwards and we drank and chatted to many people. Id been quite nervous about coming to LA thinking that it wasn't going to be a place I could relate with but that couldn't be further from the truth. It's a city built on aspiration, a hub for dreamers where the prospect of opportunity keeps you going but if nothing happens it doesn't matter because the sun is still shining and the beach is just down the road.
Breakfast was had at Mel's again the next morning where I sampled some delicious corned beef hash. Once fully fed we hopped in the RV for the first long drive the tour had to offer. The landscape became arid and desolate except for the occasional orange farm or vineyard. It was the first time id driven from one American city to another and it was another scary example of just how humungous this country is. At one point we passed a cattle farm that looked like it was the size of the Isle of Wight. The smell was shocking. Some considerable time later and we were crossing the bay bridge into San Francisco. The searing heat of the San Joaquine valley was replaced with thick cloud and mist that seemed to completely envelope the city. We checked in at the Travelodge and then headed for the venue.
Popscene was a nice club from the looks of it and we had a good sound check. We were the support band for the evening and the local headliners were our label mates, Scissors for Lefty. After a spot of dinner we returned to the venue and took to the stage. We played ok but the audience were fairly impartial, almost disinterested. There were plenty of well wishers afterwards, lots of brits too, it just seemed like a lot of people weren't in there for the live music and we didn't exactly feel encouraged. Talking to a few locals in the smoking yard I discovered that this place was usually a dance club where posh kids went to be seen. I was struggling to stay awake by this point and had to retire to the RV to sleep. Unfortunately id left it too long to go to bed and just as I got my head down my body started thinking it was the morning, which sent me into a night of interrupted dozing with crazy dreams.
The alarm clock said 9:00am when I decided to get up. I wanted to get a bit of a walk in before we had to leave so I washed, got dressed and headed up to Haight Ashbury. It turned out that the alarm clock was actually 45 minutes fast so everything was closed. Feeling somewhat down on my luck I headed back down the hill and walked down Market Street for a bit. The city was just coming to life and I was determined not to leave it without seeing something good. San Francisco's homeless population were out in force, lots of boozers, disabled war vets and skinny drug addicts congregated on the street corners. It got busier the further down I went and after several menacing looks and requests for money I started to feel a little out of my depth. Retreating into an army surplus store the owner told me it was "pay day for the poor". All these people had just got their benefit cheques and were eager to cash in. I bought an old shoulder bag and made my way back to the hotel to meet the others and get the hell out of San Francisco.
What followed next was 2 whole days of driving up the Pacific Northwest coast. We took the scenic route and it was extremely bendy. The misty fog surrounding San Francisco seemed to completely disperse as soon as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and the journey north offered some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. Eagles flew above as we drove past various hippy towns and surf beaches. We passed through ancient forests and saw some of the biggest and oldest trees in the world, some 3 meters thick. We had a late lunch in an overpriced golf club restaurant where the local beer they served was called Rat Bastard. I had two pints of the stuff just so I could say Rat Bastard to the waiter in as thick an English accent as I could. We journeyed on and I fell asleep at some point. When I woke it was dark and Andy was having a strange conversation with a psychotic Indian motel owner out the window. We were now in a hub town called Eureka and we were looking for somewhere to stay. It made no difference to me however as it was my turn to kip on the RV.
I actually slept pretty well in the bus that night despite some screaming drunk rednecks waking me up. We set off for another day of solid driving except this time we had a gig at the end of it. The journey was even more spectacular than the previous day, the road twisting and winding around huge ravines that dropped down to wildly rapid rivers. We stopped for some breakfast at the forest café opposite the Trees of Mystery experience. There was a cable car and a massive garish statue of mythical lumberjack Paul Bunyan with his big blue ox by his side. I was becoming more accustomed to the food by now and seized the opportunity of ordering more corned beef hash. The waitress was a character; every other word she said was a husky "Yargh". We drove out of the redwoods and into Oregon where the shade of the giant trees gradually dispersed. The RV became a moving oven and we all started losing it a bit. Neither Brakes nor ESP had ever done a journey like this before.
Some considerable time later we arrived in Portland where the centennial Rose Parade was taking place. People were everywhere and the road outside our venue was shut. Thinking that we had every right to drive down it anyway a cop marched straight over and practically punched the passenger window to get our attention. He made us drive round the corner and pull up behind a jeep. I jumped out and the owner of the jeep who was standing on the pavement said he'd move off in about 10 minutes. "I hate downtown when it's the parade," he said. "What's it in aid of?" I asked him. "Some frickin' kids shit or something, I dunno" We were a bit late so Pela had gone ahead and sound-checked anyway. Seeing as ESP's set needs a little more refining, Brakes forfeited their sound-check and opted for a last minute line check instead. Eamon had played Dante's before in BSP supporting a strip show, the place certainly had a raunchy vibe to it. It was also pretty empty and it didn't look like it was going to fill up. ESP played well and apart from some wailing feedback at the start, it sounded pretty good. Pela played and were well received and then it was Brakes' turn. We were all in fairly good spirits given the low pressure of playing to a semi empty room in a strange town so we just had fun with it. It sounded pretty good on stage too for not sound checking. There were a couple of broken strings and a few technical issues but we didn't care so much. Two girls started bopping down the front during Spring Chicken so we decided to dance up the rest of the set by playing NY Pie followed by Jackson. This had the desired effect and there were at least 20 people dancing by the end of our set. Out of a crowd of about 45-50 that was pretty good going.
We packed up leisurely and then started to load out. It was then that we all saw Portland for its true colours as large groups of drunken men and women piled into the club and crowded the streets outside. It made it a little stressful to get everything out, especially when trying to avoid the piles of vomit on the sidewalk. Some kid decided to jump on the bus with us but we soon got rid of him. We left Portland and drove slightly north to find a motel. It was my turn in a motel room and although we were only there for 5 or 6 hours it was good to have a wash and relax after the stress of two days on the road.
After a shockingly short sleep we were back on the RV and heading north. The interstate 5 went right through Seattle, which is a place I've wanted to visit for a long time. We stopped off in Seattle's northern suburbs for some food in a big, family orientated chain restaurant. It probably wasn't going to be any good but we were famished. After a while sat at our table I noticed a solitary woman on the next table drinking on her own. She was clearly drunk, possibly mentally unwell but definitely not happy. Every now and then she'd let out a sorrowful wail attracting strange glances from staff and customers alike. A man took it upon himself to ask her to leave a few times but she wouldn't budge. After the third time he tried some paramedics turned up with their rubber gloves to apprehend her properly, then some police turned up and another paramedic. Five officers in total were surrounding this poor piss head in a restaurant full of families. It was a bit over the top to say the least.
We got going with the journey and had the Canadian border in sights. Unfortunately we were told at immigration that as we had merchandise we had to through the commercial vehicles entrance. Once we'd gone back into America it took us about 30 minutes to find it and then we got really held up. We had to declare all the goods and apply for an import permit or something like that. It took quite a while and cost a wee bit but it was better that we had the merchandise and could legally sell it in Canada. Vancouver was just across the border and we were all gazing out the window like kids on a school trip as we rolled in. Found the venue quite easily and proceeded to load in. There was minimal time till doors so Brakes passed up a sound-check again and let ESP go ahead. It was a nice venue the Media Club, low ceiling and a good bar. Ex Brighton resident and general good geezer Dave Morrison came down with his wife Susan. It was good to have some friendly faces in the house. What with Eamon's family there too, the atmosphere was pretty friendly, especially for a place we'd never played before. For some reason the jetlag caught up with me that night and Brakes' set took a bit of warming into. We soon had the kids dancing though and overall it was a good one. Id managed to secure some accommodation for the night through a friend of a friend who id never met before. It was very good of them to let a load of complete strangers into their home, thanks Ben and Rachel if you're reading.
The next morning we got some breakfast and took to the road to re-enter the states and head to Seattle. Although the drive from Vancouver to Seattle is relatively short, we were held at customs again for a couple of hours due to the majority of our t-shirts originating from Haiti and therefore being classed as illegally imported merchandise. At one point we thought we were going to have to ditch them all, an act that would have seen a possible $5000 down the drain. Luckily Andy managed to find the one guy who worked there who could sympathise with our situation. He also had the authority to let us leave, so after two hours of bureaucratic nonsense, we were allowed to leave with all our shirts on board. It was a huge relief, selling merchandise is pretty much the only way you make money from a tour for bands like us, and to almost have that taken away made me want to puke.
Oh well…. Onwards to Seattle!
It was two days before tour started and Brighton was wet. On the Monday it literally rained all day and having caught an early flight down from Glasgow I was tired, soaked through and really feeling quite shit. Despite knowing better I resorted to the usual hometown activity of sharing more than a few libations and laughs with friends in some old haunts. It was enough to distract me from the looming nervousness I was experiencing. It was a long time coming but we were finally setting off to tour America and Canada.
Wednesday came around and Eamon and I boarded our flight to Los Angeles where we'd rendezvous with Tom, Alex, tour manager Andrew and ESP's rhythm section Matt and Mathew. ESP had gone out a week earlier for a mini tour of the west coast playing mainly in places called San something. The flight was quite empty so all on board got to stretch their legs a bit and just under 10 hours later we began to descend into California. The city looked vast and heaving, roads longer than you could see channelling an endless stream of cars and trucks through block upon block of sprawling metropolis. We got through customs and immigration at a snail's pace as usual. Once we'd been checked, scanned and bureaucratically stamped several times we were let through with our bags and guitars to seek further transportation. We'd been instructed to meet the others at a Long Beach record store called Fingerprintz where ESP were due to play an in-store. After a shuttle bus journey that seemed to take forever, we arrived there safely.
The record store was a sweet place; they had more CD's than they knew what to do with, all genres, used and brand new. It transpired that the owner Rand was a big Tenderfoot fan, which was a nice surprise. Our colleagues were yet to arrive so we decided to go and have a paddle at the nearby beach.
It was the first time id ever seen the Pacific Ocean and it gave me a new perspective on the size of the world. After this profundity we headed back to the store, amusingly saluted by a passing hell's angel on the way. ESP arrived in true style, snapping a memorial tree in half by driving the overhang of our rented RV into it.
Rand was glad because now everyone could see his sign from the other side of the street. Oddly the Police were called in to deal with the situation who quickly cordoned off the area and hacked the ex tree into pieces ready for removal. We've now taken to calling Andrew Lumberjack or any other tree felling related nickname.
The in-store was good for ESP, a nice turnout and plenty of signing to be done afterwards. It's good to see that they have an enthusiastic following stateside. When everything was wrapped up there we all boarded our RV where I fell asleep uncontrollably. Sometime later I was woken up, we'd reached our destination, the apartment of ESP's US label boss who was kindly letting us stay there. I had no idea where I was, what day it was or what was going on. The jetlag had hit hard but Eamon and myself had done well to see the day out.
After a refreshing sleep we awoke to day one of the brakesbrakesbrakes, Pela and Electric Soft Parade tour. The apartment we were at was in an area called Sherman Oaks, just below Mullholland Drive, north of Hollywood. Around the corner was an original 50's diner called Mel's Diner where we had breakfast. It's not just the body clock that needs adjusting on such a trip. American food can take a bit of getting used to too. There's always more than you need but it doesn't really fill you up, just makes you feel a bit queasy. Their burgers are brilliant though, in moderation of course as I reckon it's probably the fat content that makes them taste good. ESP had a radio session at Indie 103.3 early in the afternoon so we drove into Hollywood and dropped them off at the station. Whilst waiting in the RV a Dodge van pulled up in front of us with 'Pela, Brooklyn, New York' written into the dirt on the back. It was our middle support band for the tour and coincidentally they were booked to do a session straight after Tom and Alex. It was a good opportunity to introduce ourselves, so out we bounded and got ourselves acquainted. They were nice guys, very New York, good sense of humour and friendly. It was a relief because there is nothing worse than having to tour with a band you don't really get on with.
We arrived at Spaceland, that night's venue, a bit early so we tested out our new brakesbrakesbrakes custom hacky sacks in the parking lot. A new addition to the merchandise that is both fun and good exercise. The jetlag was really messing with my brain but sheer excitement was keeping me going. The venue started to fill up and ESP played to a good crowd. Being LA there was a varied mob assembled including lesbians, transvestites, a man in a space suit and another man in a kilt. Sat on the merchandise stand I had a good view of the place filling up. Pela went down well and sounded good and then it was our turn. We played a well-stacked set and it was great fun. There were a couple of idiot hecklers but that just made us play harder. Everyone was in a great mood afterwards and we drank and chatted to many people. Id been quite nervous about coming to LA thinking that it wasn't going to be a place I could relate with but that couldn't be further from the truth. It's a city built on aspiration, a hub for dreamers where the prospect of opportunity keeps you going but if nothing happens it doesn't matter because the sun is still shining and the beach is just down the road.
Breakfast was had at Mel's again the next morning where I sampled some delicious corned beef hash. Once fully fed we hopped in the RV for the first long drive the tour had to offer. The landscape became arid and desolate except for the occasional orange farm or vineyard. It was the first time id driven from one American city to another and it was another scary example of just how humungous this country is. At one point we passed a cattle farm that looked like it was the size of the Isle of Wight. The smell was shocking. Some considerable time later and we were crossing the bay bridge into San Francisco. The searing heat of the San Joaquine valley was replaced with thick cloud and mist that seemed to completely envelope the city. We checked in at the Travelodge and then headed for the venue.
Popscene was a nice club from the looks of it and we had a good sound check. We were the support band for the evening and the local headliners were our label mates, Scissors for Lefty. After a spot of dinner we returned to the venue and took to the stage. We played ok but the audience were fairly impartial, almost disinterested. There were plenty of well wishers afterwards, lots of brits too, it just seemed like a lot of people weren't in there for the live music and we didn't exactly feel encouraged. Talking to a few locals in the smoking yard I discovered that this place was usually a dance club where posh kids went to be seen. I was struggling to stay awake by this point and had to retire to the RV to sleep. Unfortunately id left it too long to go to bed and just as I got my head down my body started thinking it was the morning, which sent me into a night of interrupted dozing with crazy dreams.
The alarm clock said 9:00am when I decided to get up. I wanted to get a bit of a walk in before we had to leave so I washed, got dressed and headed up to Haight Ashbury. It turned out that the alarm clock was actually 45 minutes fast so everything was closed. Feeling somewhat down on my luck I headed back down the hill and walked down Market Street for a bit. The city was just coming to life and I was determined not to leave it without seeing something good. San Francisco's homeless population were out in force, lots of boozers, disabled war vets and skinny drug addicts congregated on the street corners. It got busier the further down I went and after several menacing looks and requests for money I started to feel a little out of my depth. Retreating into an army surplus store the owner told me it was "pay day for the poor". All these people had just got their benefit cheques and were eager to cash in. I bought an old shoulder bag and made my way back to the hotel to meet the others and get the hell out of San Francisco.
What followed next was 2 whole days of driving up the Pacific Northwest coast. We took the scenic route and it was extremely bendy. The misty fog surrounding San Francisco seemed to completely disperse as soon as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and the journey north offered some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. Eagles flew above as we drove past various hippy towns and surf beaches. We passed through ancient forests and saw some of the biggest and oldest trees in the world, some 3 meters thick. We had a late lunch in an overpriced golf club restaurant where the local beer they served was called Rat Bastard. I had two pints of the stuff just so I could say Rat Bastard to the waiter in as thick an English accent as I could. We journeyed on and I fell asleep at some point. When I woke it was dark and Andy was having a strange conversation with a psychotic Indian motel owner out the window. We were now in a hub town called Eureka and we were looking for somewhere to stay. It made no difference to me however as it was my turn to kip on the RV.
I actually slept pretty well in the bus that night despite some screaming drunk rednecks waking me up. We set off for another day of solid driving except this time we had a gig at the end of it. The journey was even more spectacular than the previous day, the road twisting and winding around huge ravines that dropped down to wildly rapid rivers. We stopped for some breakfast at the forest café opposite the Trees of Mystery experience. There was a cable car and a massive garish statue of mythical lumberjack Paul Bunyan with his big blue ox by his side. I was becoming more accustomed to the food by now and seized the opportunity of ordering more corned beef hash. The waitress was a character; every other word she said was a husky "Yargh". We drove out of the redwoods and into Oregon where the shade of the giant trees gradually dispersed. The RV became a moving oven and we all started losing it a bit. Neither Brakes nor ESP had ever done a journey like this before.
Some considerable time later we arrived in Portland where the centennial Rose Parade was taking place. People were everywhere and the road outside our venue was shut. Thinking that we had every right to drive down it anyway a cop marched straight over and practically punched the passenger window to get our attention. He made us drive round the corner and pull up behind a jeep. I jumped out and the owner of the jeep who was standing on the pavement said he'd move off in about 10 minutes. "I hate downtown when it's the parade," he said. "What's it in aid of?" I asked him. "Some frickin' kids shit or something, I dunno" We were a bit late so Pela had gone ahead and sound-checked anyway. Seeing as ESP's set needs a little more refining, Brakes forfeited their sound-check and opted for a last minute line check instead. Eamon had played Dante's before in BSP supporting a strip show, the place certainly had a raunchy vibe to it. It was also pretty empty and it didn't look like it was going to fill up. ESP played well and apart from some wailing feedback at the start, it sounded pretty good. Pela played and were well received and then it was Brakes' turn. We were all in fairly good spirits given the low pressure of playing to a semi empty room in a strange town so we just had fun with it. It sounded pretty good on stage too for not sound checking. There were a couple of broken strings and a few technical issues but we didn't care so much. Two girls started bopping down the front during Spring Chicken so we decided to dance up the rest of the set by playing NY Pie followed by Jackson. This had the desired effect and there were at least 20 people dancing by the end of our set. Out of a crowd of about 45-50 that was pretty good going.
We packed up leisurely and then started to load out. It was then that we all saw Portland for its true colours as large groups of drunken men and women piled into the club and crowded the streets outside. It made it a little stressful to get everything out, especially when trying to avoid the piles of vomit on the sidewalk. Some kid decided to jump on the bus with us but we soon got rid of him. We left Portland and drove slightly north to find a motel. It was my turn in a motel room and although we were only there for 5 or 6 hours it was good to have a wash and relax after the stress of two days on the road.
After a shockingly short sleep we were back on the RV and heading north. The interstate 5 went right through Seattle, which is a place I've wanted to visit for a long time. We stopped off in Seattle's northern suburbs for some food in a big, family orientated chain restaurant. It probably wasn't going to be any good but we were famished. After a while sat at our table I noticed a solitary woman on the next table drinking on her own. She was clearly drunk, possibly mentally unwell but definitely not happy. Every now and then she'd let out a sorrowful wail attracting strange glances from staff and customers alike. A man took it upon himself to ask her to leave a few times but she wouldn't budge. After the third time he tried some paramedics turned up with their rubber gloves to apprehend her properly, then some police turned up and another paramedic. Five officers in total were surrounding this poor piss head in a restaurant full of families. It was a bit over the top to say the least.
We got going with the journey and had the Canadian border in sights. Unfortunately we were told at immigration that as we had merchandise we had to through the commercial vehicles entrance. Once we'd gone back into America it took us about 30 minutes to find it and then we got really held up. We had to declare all the goods and apply for an import permit or something like that. It took quite a while and cost a wee bit but it was better that we had the merchandise and could legally sell it in Canada. Vancouver was just across the border and we were all gazing out the window like kids on a school trip as we rolled in. Found the venue quite easily and proceeded to load in. There was minimal time till doors so Brakes passed up a sound-check again and let ESP go ahead. It was a nice venue the Media Club, low ceiling and a good bar. Ex Brighton resident and general good geezer Dave Morrison came down with his wife Susan. It was good to have some friendly faces in the house. What with Eamon's family there too, the atmosphere was pretty friendly, especially for a place we'd never played before. For some reason the jetlag caught up with me that night and Brakes' set took a bit of warming into. We soon had the kids dancing though and overall it was a good one. Id managed to secure some accommodation for the night through a friend of a friend who id never met before. It was very good of them to let a load of complete strangers into their home, thanks Ben and Rachel if you're reading.
The next morning we got some breakfast and took to the road to re-enter the states and head to Seattle. Although the drive from Vancouver to Seattle is relatively short, we were held at customs again for a couple of hours due to the majority of our t-shirts originating from Haiti and therefore being classed as illegally imported merchandise. At one point we thought we were going to have to ditch them all, an act that would have seen a possible $5000 down the drain. Luckily Andy managed to find the one guy who worked there who could sympathise with our situation. He also had the authority to let us leave, so after two hours of bureaucratic nonsense, we were allowed to leave with all our shirts on board. It was a huge relief, selling merchandise is pretty much the only way you make money from a tour for bands like us, and to almost have that taken away made me want to puke.
Oh well…. Onwards to Seattle!
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