A whole day was spent driving east away from Chicago and towards the Canadian border at Lake Huron. Immigration was relatively painless compared to the atrocities of last week. We had intended to get all the way to Niagara Falls that day and have the next morning to experience the natural wonder. The land had its weary way with us though and the journey was just too long. We opted instead to stay in a town called London. We'd already stayed in Brighton, now it was London for Andy, all we needed to complete the theme was a Birmingham for Priesty. London didn't look like much. Our Econo-Lodge was next to a titty bar named Beef Baron, on a desolate road occupied mainly by auto shops and used car lots. It was midnight and we were all famished. A short, brisk walk later and we'd found a Pizza joint called Stobie's and proceeded to stuff big, doughy slices of pizza down our gullets. Minutes later we were fed and felt like capable humans again. We took a couple of cabs back to the hotel and some of us (I wont say who) ventured into the titty bar, purely to drink the beer of course.
Tuesday morning came round and, after a sweaty sleep on the bus, we set off for Niagara Falls. We cut across the eastern tip of Lake Ontario, water as far as the eye could see, still and flat like a big mirror. Then, as we drew nearer to Niagara Falls, the cheap motels and billboards started popping up. A little drive later and we were parked and walking towards the falls. It was baking hot and if it hadn't have been the case that going for a swim would have resulted in almost certain death, I would have considered it. The water did look good. I was surprised the waters edge wasn't fenced off, as a few hundred meters further in the direction we were walking was the colossal Horseshoe Falls. Three quarters of a million tonnes of water pass over the falls every second. It was truly spectacular. A dense mist floated eerily up from the 180ft drop, giving all us tourists some slight relief from the burning sun. It would have been good to do one of the under falls trails or even go on the boat trip but we didn't have the time. Actually, those boats looked a little precarious as they struggled against the immense current to get a closer look.
After a beer we got back on the bus and just as we were about to leave for Toronto, I saw something move over on the grass. Id noticed the small brown lump earlier but assumed it was a rock. On closer inspection we discovered that it was a groundhog, at least that's what we think it was. We crept towards it to get footage on our cameras until it scampered, scared into the woods. Our visit to Niagara Falls had turned out to be a bit of a nature stop seeing as I'd also seen a couple of black squirrels and a blue jay earlier on. We then found out from our Agent that the Montreal show was off. The promoter hadn't secured the booking and it turned out the venue was booked for that whole week for a local festival. This perturbed Eamon especially who had been looking forward to seeing the family he has in Montreal. We later decided to drive there the next day anyway.
I dozed off, slightly sun stricken during the short drive from Niagara Falls and when I woke up we were coming into Toronto with the CN tower piercing the wide blue sky above. Lee's Palace was a big, old venue. There were some real characters working there, including Gordy, a seasoned rocker and ex hockey player whose actual job there was quite vague. Basically he sorted us out for whatever we needed and told us jokes and surreal stories. Met some cool folk doing the merchandise and sold quite a lot from early doors. I ate sushi and drank beer behind the stall for my dinner. Pela sounded good again, they always do. Singer Billy had a tough one, breaking 3 strings and falling off the stage. It was quite a high stage too and unfortunately he ended up with a sprained ankle.
Brakes went on and for me it was the third gig in a row that felt way above average. We even got an encore, enthusiastically introduced by uber-fan Kevon: a young looking, eloquently spoken, moustached fellow with an encyclopaedic knowledge of British music and band trivia. He's something of a local character it would seem and even has his own Internet TV channel. We went to the bar down the road for drinks afterwards. We were all drinking merrily, sharing beverages with the guys from the venue who it seemed like we'd known forever. The DJ was playing lots of obvious British Indie so Alex rifled through his CD collection and picked out some better tunes. I was talking to a lady who'd fallen off her bike and was covered in cuts and bruises when suddenly an intense looking guy came over and said something in her ear. She literally stopped mid sentence and went to talk with him at another table. He looked angry and was making dirty glances at us. Something was definitely up. I looked around. Lots of people had sinister stares, agendas in their eyes. I was off my face and started feeling like I was being hustled for something in some way so I went outside. Gordy brought me back down to earth and introduced me to a likeable guitarist called Jim who'd just bought a lovely new Gretsch. He told me about his experiences travelling Europe when he was younger and I listened with fascination.
That night we stayed at Tom Mckay's house. Tom is a songwriter and producer that Tom and Alex know. In the morning he charbroiled us a breakfast of sausages, bacon and eggs. It was the first wholesome food we'd had for a long time and set us up good for a long drive up to Montreal. We got to Eamon's cousin's place at around 9pm. Her name is Megan, she was a delightful hostess and she cooked us our second wholesome meal for a long time. She took Eamon, Alex, Matt and Andy out to a bar while the rest of us stayed in. I wrote some emails and then got my head down on the bus. Apparently the promoter of the cancelled show was in the same bar that night and was too embarrassed to say hi. He's telling everyone that we're coming back in October but that's news to us.
We left early the next day and made our way south back into America. The border was a breeze. Crossing it has just got easier each time we've done it. I dozed a little and read my book as we crossed through Vermont, New Hampshire and eventually drove into Massachusetts. Boston looked like a very proper city, all good masonry, schools and neat parks.
We pulled up to a radio station on the first floor a central office block. People were walking by, looking in as we played. The presenter was typically under researched and got all her facts mixed up. I guess the whole two bands scenario is a bit confusing. We played 3 songs and then left for the venue. TT and the Bears was a nice sized little club. We abstained from a sound-check and after setting up the merchandise I went to get some food at the middle-eastern restaurant on the corner. The tuna steak was delicious but inevitably it reminded my body of how tired I was. I seemed to go into a downward spiral of nausea and exhaustion whilst sat back on the merchandise stall. A Russian girl tried to buy a $10 CD with a $100 bill and I received more criticism for not taking plastic.
Our set that night was a real struggle. Eamon bust 3 strings and the onstage sound was possibly the worst I'd ever encountered. At least there were a few eager fans present to egg us on. I had to watch the drum kit like a hawk just to stay in time. We battled through it and soon enough it was over and we were packing down. Luckily I got to spend the four hours in between getting to the hotel and leaving the hotel in a comfy bed. My shower the next morning felt like the tears of God themselves raining down from above and cleansing my wretchedly dirty body. I stood there dumbfounded by the sensation. The past two and a half weeks were really catching up on all of us. It would take a city like New York to inject a bit of vitality back into the party. I found an old bus with its door open in the car park of the hotel and decided to sit in there for a bit for a little variety.
We headed south out of Massachusetts, reluctantly stopping at McDonalds on the way for breakfast. I made the mistake of ordering a McGriddle, which consists of your regular breakfast sandwich fillings but is flanked by what I can only describe as two Eccles cakes. Utterly foul! Before long we were in New York state and making our way into the city. Before heading to Hoboken, New Jersey, we were due to perform acoustically for the people at CMJ. We were going to go to the venue first and then get taxis to it but there wasn't time. So we drove the RV straight into midtown Manhattan and got dropped off. There was a gaggle of people waiting for us on the 12th floor of an office block. A man called Paul gave me a book called 'I like food, food tastes good', which features recipes that have been submitted by bands. Turned to page 30 and there was my recipe for vegetable soup that I'd sent about a year ago. I was officially a published chef. We played 4 or 5 songs and then got on our way.
It was amazing to be back in New York. The fast pace, and brash unpredictability of it made a refreshing change to the rest of America. We took the tunnel under the river to New Jersey and found Maxwell's, our venue for the night. I hadn't realised how close Hoboken was to Manhattan. Just down the road from the venue was a breathtaking view of the island across the Hudson.
New Yorker's do take great pride in distinguishing the differences between all these relatively close towns and boroughs. They are subtle differences to an outsider like me but huge to a native New Yorker. Sadly it was time to say goodbye to the RV, which Andy had to drive to Pennsylvania where it would be picked up and taken back to LA. We emptied it all out and cleaned it as much as we could. It had served us well despite being a little impractical and making people laugh and point at us almost everywhere we went.
I was excited to play Maxwell's; it's where Yo La Tengo have their yearly Hanukah gig as well as being the venue for many great shows in the past. I had a burrito (again) for dinner, something I've got to stop doing, and then waited wearily for show time. ESP had a good one, as did Pela. It was a homecoming gig for Pela drummer Tom, who is a Jersey boy and he had a few mates in the audience. It was good to meet some of those guys' families now we were in their neck of the woods. We had a fun show that night; there weren't all that many people there but they all seemed to be drunk and bouncing around so it was ok. For Porcupine or Pineapple Tom donned a blonde wig and I a balaclava, I couldn't tell you why exactly. Gig done and we were all going our separate ways staying at various friends' places. Priesty, Matt and myself were staying at Dawn's and Tom and Alex at Dawn's friend John's place. Dawn is the cousin of Dodgy guitarist Andy Miller. She had a very nice ground floor flat in a nice part of Brooklyn.
After a disturbed nights sleep due to Priesty's cataclysmic snoring, we went for some lunch at a nice gaff round the corner. Brooklyn looked like an alright place, reminded me of Stoke Newington quite a bit. We'd slept in late so the day was slowly getting away from us. Once back at Dawns we ordered some cabs and went to the Mercury Lounge on the lower east side where we'd play the first of a two night residency. A thunderstorm was brewing and I was feeling extremely odd, aching all over with excruciating stomach pains, barely able to stand. It was either from too much sleep or not enough. After sound checks Euvin from our label Worlds Fair took us for some grub at Katz's Diner, the place made famous by that awful film, When Harry Met Sally. We had giant pastrami sandwiches with huge, juicy dill pickles. It made me feel better. The venue started to fill up, we'd sold it out, probably with the help of a really good piece in Time Out magazine, headlined by the genius pun; "RV there yet". It was good to see some familiar New York faces, people we'd met from our previous visits to the city. I didn't catch any of ESP's set as I was on the merchandise at the other end of the club but plenty of people swarmed to buy stuff once they'd finished. As it was the end of the tour we were selling everything dirt-cheap. Some people were buying 4 t-shirts and 4 albums in one go and the dollars were rolling in.
Pela had a good show and then Brakes got up to play. It was pretty much the first time on this tour that there was a noticeable sense of anticipation in the audience. We played a blinder, a full pelter of a set, hitting them with every last scrap of energy we had. After the show we went to Dawn's northern soul night at a club up the road. It was like being at any mod club back home, small, crowded and dark. I had a few drinks and then started to wilt with exhaustion so at about 3am Matt and I took a cab back to Brooklyn.
After being back at Dawn's for about half an hour, Priesty, Alex and John turned up wondering where Tom was. He'd done a disappearing act and no one knew where he was. It turned out he went looking for some food and on trying to find his way back had gotten completely lost. Eventually, after wandering around Manhattan on his own, he found the club just as they were closing up. One of the barmen rang the manager, who gave him Dawn's number and then Dawn relayed directions for Tom back to Brooklyn.
I slept brilliantly that night, partly because Priesty had moved his mattress into the corridor so Matt and I could sleep soundly without disruption. Unluckily for him Dawn's cat decided to sprint up and down the corridor all night keeping him awake.
It was another slow start to the day come the morning and my plans for a bit of Manhattan bound shopping went completely out the window, as did arrangements for us all meeting for lunch. We met eventually, about an hour and a half later than arranged, and had lunch at Schillers on Rivington and Norfolk. One extremely large burger and a Bloody Mary later and we went back to the Mercury Lounge to set up for our second night there. Pela were headlining the show with ESP on first and Brakes in the middle. For Tom and Alex, this final hurdle was to be the hardest to jump with two shows back to back. Even though the show hadn't sold out on ticket sales, with a good walk up it packed out and we'd gained full capacity two nights in a row. ESP played well then we squeezed the last morsel of strength into the final Brakes show of the tour. It was another great gig, not quite as well played as the night before but then Tom and Alex were delirious with fatigue, probably losing more and more sense with every note played. We all ploughed through it, the finish line in our sights. It was an emotional finale to what had been probably the greatest achievement of any of our touring careers. Pela took the stage and whipped up the sweaty crowd into frenzy. Being the end of their first cross- country tour, the show had even more poignancy for them, especially as they were playing in the bosom of a home crowd. The moment had to be marked in some way so during their anthemic encore 'Cavalry' the rest of us got up there to bash various instruments, dance and sing. It was a joyous celebration of a fantastic tour. I was sad that I wasn't going to be seeing those guys' faces every day no more, but also glad that we'd made some amazing friends along the way. It was so lucky that we all got on and understood each other. As I said before being on tour with a band that are unwilling to be friends is a nightmare. Some people have an agenda, or an elevated opinion of themselves when really all musicians and all bands everywhere are in the same boat and you scrape all that ego shit away, you can actually learn from each other.
Another after-show had been arranged at Piano's, the place where Brakes first ever played in NYC. Embarrassingly the management had put a poster outside stating 'Brakes official after-show' with a picture below of the other band The Brakes from Philadelphia, those same cretins who forced us to change our name. I didn't let it dampen my mood and got some booze down my neck. We were supposed to be 'partying' upstairs but the air con was too high, it was dark and the music was shit so we went back down stairs again. Tom got barred somehow. The DJ took a disliking to him for reasons unknown to myself. Matt and I propped the bar and proceeded to pour alcoholic beverages down our throats with abandon. Eventually the money ran out and it was time to be leaving. Getting back to Dawn's was a bit of a struggle. Once we'd dropped Tom at John's Matt and I were unsure how to direct the cab to our destination. After going in several circles around Brooklyn we eventually got there and got our drunken heads down.
In the morning we all had to get up and out as ESP had a TV show to record. Tom from Pela was kind enough to drive us to the Mercury in his van so we could pick up our gear. From there I took the final opportunity I had to go uptown and make the most of our favoured exchange rate. I'd been to this store Dave's before. It sells rugged work wear, jeans and plaid shirts for dirt-cheap prices. I met Eamon at 6th and 23rd where I'd been told it was and we scoured the vicinity for the shop. An hour went by, we couldn't find it. I was getting pissed off. It was hot and the traffic was pumping out noxious, stifling fumes. I found another clothes store where the first two pairs of Levis I tried were perfect and a steal so I had to buy them, but I was still miffed at not finding Dave's. Where could it be? We had some lunch and it was still bugging me so once we'd eaten I found a wi-fi hot spot and looked it up. It turned out it was on 6th and 17th, not 6th and 23rd. We got there eventually and I worked out I could have saved about 20 bucks on what id bought in the other shop but what the hell, it was still two pairs of jeans for less than the price of one back home. I bought a shirt at Dave's then we had to get to the airport to meet the others.
Now that both bands were travelling together we had a mountain of equipment to check in at the airport. But by shoving bags in other bags and having two items of hand luggage each we managed to get away with not having to pay too much in excess. I hate airports so I got through security as quick as I could to just sit and ready myself for the flight. It amazed me how slack security was for people leaving the states compared to airports in the UK. There was none of that having to carry your cosmetics in separate bags and even though I clearly had lots of cables, wires and electronic equipment on me, they didn't feel the need to look through my stuff. In fact none of us got searched which is a rarity. Ironic that a year ago it was the thoroughness of Heathrow's security measures that stopped 3 American planes being blown up. They could at least return the favour. I suppose their way around it is just to not let anyone they don't trust into the country in the first place.
The flight was good despite being a little uncomfortable for my long legs and me but it was over soon enough and we were back in Britain. Matt Eaton was there to pick us up and before long we were back in Brighton. Almost as soon as I'd got to Brighton I got out again, to a countryside pub to eat and drink Harvey's merrily with family and loved ones alike. It was a scenario I'd been craving for quite some time now and it didn't disappoint. I fell asleep some time in the afternoon, waking later in confusion thinking I was in America and I had a show to do. The experience had obviously conditioned my brain into a routine. I knew it would take a while to shake the wretched tour fever. We had driven 7200 miles in 3 weeks, spending most of that time on the road. We'd crossed 4 time zones and seen snow, sun, rain, lots of dust and some big fucking trees. We met some amazing friendly people, some freaks and some weirdoes, all combining to paint a picture of this country's unique consciousness, and I'm not even going to mention Canada. For all the bad press the country gets, its still a truly spectacular place full of brilliance and potential. It's the country's potential that has lead it to make so many political mistakes, its wealth and unfathomable resources have given it more power than (really, as just a big kid) it knows what to do with. I hope it figures out all its problems within my lifetime because all those people (the non deluded ones that is) deserve to be proud of their nation, and I personally can't wait to go back and explore it some more.
Thanks to everyone along the way. Big respect to Andrew Winters who deserves a fucking medal.
