We started the fall tour in Toronto at the start of September. Many of us were very sick. I lost 6 lbs in three days and was diagnosed with Salmonella by the visiting doctor. He got through a lot of Vitamin B12 that day. We weren't sure we were doing the show up until about an hour beforehand as some of the band were too sick to get up out of bed.
The show was on an island in the lake - about a half a mile from the City. The previous day they'd lost two boats that were to ferry artists to and from the festival site. The people were so nice to us that it kind of made up for the slight kluge that the festival was. And it's always nice to take a boat to the gig, even if Richard Branson is on site being a numpty when you arrive. The last time I remember doing it was with Pulp in Norway when we jumped on a powerboat after the show and shot-off across a fjord. That was fun. This is me on the way to the show. I hadn't eaten for three days and look surprisingly well for it, considering. My rusted, empty black soul was back in the hotel feeling sorry for itself.
We didn’t have a production manager for the first week. This meant I was covering the position. Not what I’d asked for and I wouldn’t want to do it again, mainly because it means I wasn’t doing any of the three jobs I was supposed to be doing well or even passably on some occasions. I was very relieved when we finally hired someone, as was everyone. Never again.
For me the initial over-stressed, over-worked, under-supported grind set the tone for the tour and I never really got into it. There was no momentum for me, as I was so exhausted from the first couple of weeks that over the remaining three weeks I was counting the days until we finished. I haven’t toured with a feeling like that for a long time. To be honest, as it was the last tour of a campaign and we were doing a strange mix of supports for Tom Petty (excellent) and our own shows (mostly good) to shows in B markets where we were trying to develop some support out of radio airplay (not always so good) I think it was hard for everyone to get motivated. The shows were good, the band never let those suffer, but off-stage we were all in the doldrums somewhat, and our heads independently immersed in what we’d be doing once the tour had finished.
There were a few moments that stand out. We had two band buses, to give the band a little more space on the road and this helped a lot. There’s a big difference between getting on a bus with 8 people and getting on a bus with 4 people. The most direct comparison is between economy class and business. This meant the long drives felt leisurely and our two drivers were quick and smooth. Much like myself. For the first time we were all excited by the prospect of a 14 hour drive. We’d jump on the bus after the show, change, lounge around eating the food and then go to sleep only to wake a couple of hours from our hotel. Driving into Salt Lake City was good like this – the view over the salt plains impressive and spooky. Traveling across the American West always makes me think about the pioneers. They must have had some 'nads.
Unfortunately for the crew they only had one bus and as some crew members hadn't ever learnt good manners and basic social skills it put an undue amount of stress on the others. Some people ended up flying themselves rather than travel on the bus, which is wrong, really.
Supporting Tom Petty was good fun. His crew were the most charming and generous people I’ve met in a long time and they helped us a lot. Plus we got to finish early and there wasn’t a lot to worry about.
Pompano Beach. Our hotel was on the beach and fine enough for what it was, only it was miles from anything like a store. I was in the gym, pedaling my lazy legs off on a Saturday night (there really was nothing to do there) and the hotel’s “masseuse” was in the gym too, waiting for her next appointment. I was pedaling and watching Dog The Bounty Hunter on TV (I’m a populist at heart). She sat down on the next bike over and watched the show too. She smelled of cigarettes. I asked her if there was a store nearby. She told me there was one about a mile away in the bottom of one of the nearby hotels. She told me it was open until about 9PM or so and, “it’s run by them sand…..er..people.”
I wonder if she really meant to say Sand Niggers? And if it was a strange point of etiquette in Pompano Beach not to say Nigger in polite conversation to someone you don’t know? I’m speculating of course. Maybe Sand ‘People’ is a common expression down there. The shopkeeper was Indian, not Arabian. I really don’t get Florida. It’s like an episode of cops played out in real life with the cast from Springer. (Except for the cool people I met whom I’ve omitted here as it ruins my rant.)
Looking at the photo below I can't quite remember how miserable I felt on this day, or why. But I did.
Churlish, moi?
On the same day off in Florida as there was nothing to do and nothing on the TV (and remember I was sulking) I stole a DVD from the bus. It was Season One of Grey’s Anatomy. I watched the whole thing inside a day, lying on my bed, staring out at the beach, watching TV on my computer; too listless and morose to move. That in itself sums up how I was feeling. I bought Series 2 in Los Angeles three days later. By that point there were four of us watching it, gorging ourselves on the show whenever we could. For about a week it was all we could talk about. When I got to Kansas City I was up to date and so I bought a subscription to Series 3 from I-tunes so I could watch the new episodes as they were screened. I wasn’t alone in this. And it wasn’t unusual to hear us discussing where we all were and what was going on with Meredith and Shepherd as we left the venues each night. I think in some ways it was a symptom that we all craved a little normalcy after nine months of traveling non-stop. I know at the end of the tour I was craving a day to hang-out in my apartment just to clean and do laundry. I think knowing we were finishing meant everyone’s centre shifted slightly. Mine did.
Our last show was a “private” corporate show. It was an extravaganza for the party goers and a cluster-fuck backstage. It’s up there in my top three worst-produced shows ever. Completely run by numptys. If it hadn’t been for us and Goldfrapp’s crew being cool it would have crashed slowly and messily. I was half-tempted to let it, but one can’t fuck up a gig out of spite. Not one’s own, anyway. Aside from the pernicious rain – which was a drag as the dressing room was a trailer on the street – and the disorganization, the lasting impression I took away from the show was that there’s no such thing as only half sucking the devil’s willy. No matter what you promise yourself beforehand.
In a magnificent display of pre-planning this three and a half foot wide passage was where all the bands' equipment loaded-in and out, and where the many hundred waitstaff caried tray after tray of crap liquor from to get everyone in the crowd lathered-which they did, and was everyone's route backstage. That no one got hurt is a small miracle. Sometimes the gig is an afterthought to making sure that the branding is in place. Oh well, what do I know..?
And that’s nine months on tour….now I can rejoin myself. Being disembodied was getting old towards the end, that’s for sure.
