May Tour, 2008.
The best part of three weeks. In which time we encompassed eleven shows, three drivers, two days of laying down drum tracks, two days holed up in practice rooms, and a seeming endless array of Travelodges and floors - not to go forgetting the night spent sleeping in our van, outside a Travelodge nevertheless.
Beginning with the now customary act of running circles around Aberdeen, it took us an hour before we were finally on route. The plan was to drive straight to Cardiff, where we would record the remaining drum tracks for our album. Having spent some time there in August of last year - recording a session for what at the time was just a single - we were all excited to be catching up with Greg (Haver - producer) and Loz (Williams - engineer) again. The only problem we now faced was a slight oversight regarding fuel money. Thankfully, Greg donned his best superhero costume and saved the day; for which, if we haven’t said so enough, thank you.
We spent the next day reacquainting ourselves with Cardiff, which is a lovely city, if not a little intimidating by night. The evening was whiled away playing through the songs we were intending to record.
At some point that evening, Greg had came by to listen to the arrangements, at the end of which, he had reaffirmed our belief in the record ten-fold. In fact, so much so, we toasted ourselves on a job well done at the bar next to our B&B with a few swift drinks.
After a mammoth studio session on the Monday, where Christy laid down drums for five tracks, earning himself ‘the little Scottish dynamo’ tag, and I managed to catch a cold; Tuesday was a total breeze. We bade Greg and Loz fare thee well, and for me, it was bed by 8pm.
On to London then, and to our first show of the tour. I will say this now, driving through the centre of London, during peak hours, is enough to push a man over the edge! I wasn’t even driving, but I still found it to be extremely trying on my patience, having to contain myself so as not to pull my hair out. I felt sorry for Sam.
There was a strange incident that day which stands out in my mind, involving a woman, outside of Harrods, screaming as if she were being assaulted, before continuing on her way like nothing had happened? Indeed.
We made for our first visit to the SuperVision offices, which was slightly intimidating; caught up with Jamesy for the first time since he had relocated to the big smoke, six weeks previously; met Rhian, who helps out with certain aspects of our band - she’s a lovely girl; and then Rainey!, our new driver and the eventual star of the whole tour.
The show that night was at a Scruffy Bird club, in The Star of Bethnal Green. Really nice people; shame about those in the audience. We played in a rather controlled fashion, easing our way in for the dates ahead.
Newcastle was nothing to speak of. Afterwards, we had to drive all the way to Glasgow, unable to obtain a room at a Travelodge - apparently in Scotland, you have to book online or by telephone, in advance of your stay.
By six o’clock in the morning, we’re outside the Paisley Road branch, having had no luck, rearranging the van, with the idea of getting in at least a few hours rest before being allowed into our room. It’s almost three o’clock when we do finally get in - enough time for a shower and some of that nasty instant coffee people insist on drinking.
Onwards to King Tuts then, a great meal, and a real fun show. What a difference it makes when you’re treated well before a gig! I should point out that, in Edgar Prais, we have a very special place in our hearts for King Tuts: it’s the one stop on a run of dates where you’re guaranteed a real good meal and a professional set-up.
Dundee the night after, however, was notable only for the biggest farce of a sound check in history - if the whole band can’t be there on time, with the equipment necessary, surely you don’t leave the rest of us hanging around for an hour, having to listen to the most ridiculous guitarist since Yngwie Malmsteen? Still, the guys from Drive-by Argument seemed nice enough; and they were about the only people in the venue to bother giving our set the time of day.
We drove all the way to Leeds after that show, Pudsey to be exact, where our friend Domenic was good enough to put us up for the night. The Sunday was a day off, so we had a real lazy time of it. In the evening we were all taken for a lovely Italian meal by Papa Peluso himself. A few bottles of wine later, and we were on route to London.
We got in late, but Jamesy and his flatmates were good enough to have us. Steven proved himself to be funnier than we had given him credit, delivering the greatest one-liner of recent times, resulting in us all rolling around on the floor. That night we sat around into the early hours just shooting the breeze.
Camden Barfly was a rather last minute show, and so we were thrown on at the end of the bill. This meant us playing to about six people, of which four had seen us previously. We later went out to the Red Stripe Music Awards after party, under the premise of free booze - little did we know that only the Red Stripe was free. Not to let a small hitch get in the way of our plans of having a good time, ridiculous dancing ensued. The highlight was the point where everyone was getting warmed up, and the DJ started playing the Violent Femmes … only to mess the whole thing up and walk off, leaving us with nothing to dance to. Our little party seen fit to holler the song at the top of our lungs, in an attempt to keep up the momentum. Unfortunately, everyone else decided it was time to go home, and we were back out on the streets, hunting down cheap alcohol.
The next day seen us signing our contract with SuperVision, as well as a deal for our next two singles. We celebrated with Chinese beer and Thai food. In the evening we went to see Johnny Foreigner, but arriving late, only caught The Mae Shi. Unfortunate as it is, they weren’t very good. They only had one song (more than a lot of bands have, I ought to concede); the remainder of their set was vacuous, blundering through the same trick, over and over.
Don’t get me wrong, I have since listened to a couple of their records, and they seem to have something more to offer. Maybe it was just an off night? Anyway, we vacated to the free bar before their last song, for some more Red Stripe, and a beautiful view across the Thames.
The following day seen our good friend Andy Lobban join us - who proved himself to be an incredible presence on the Kaiser Chiefs’ dates. In the evening we played at a small bar in Camden, Tommy Flynn’s, which was nice enough. As evening’s end approached, the realisation dawned on me (a little too late, I’ll admit), that we ought to drive through to Brighton, rather than stay in London another night, to save having to get up at a ridiculous hour. It made sense in theory; but in practice, we still only got a couple of hours sleep.
That next morning was horrible, and I still couldn’t tell you to this day where we were. Somewhere on route to Brighton (via Eastbourne in the morning to collect a piano?!). We still made load-in at 11:30am. I am not even kidding. We didn’t have time for breakfast, but by 2:30pm, we were onstage, fighting fit. The show itself divided opinion, with one half of our entourage thinking it was great, and the other half thinking it a complete shambles. One thing was certain however, The Great Escape was well underway.
After registration, and parking up the van for the night, we made our way to dinner. That evening I was determined to catch Bon Iver, and with Andy’s added seal of approval, everyone followed suit. But first we needed to find some kind of cheap alcohol. Enter ‘Strongbow Super’.
Let me tell you that, up until this point, I had long sworn away from cider; but I wasn’t even buying, and you know what they say about beggars and choosers. So we sat in the park opposite the venue and started on the cans. Best idea we had over that weekend.
As for Bon Iver, it was intimate, dewy-eyed brilliance. Completely transcendental. The harmonies were like crystal chandeliers. Am I laying it on a bit think? Seriously, I don’t care. It was far and wide one of the most stunningly beautiful performances I have witnessed. And when they came out into the crowd to play ’Skinny Love’, where did they land? Right in amongst our toothy grins.
Yet more cider. Andy, Rainey and I, went floating along to the Spiegel Tent in the hopes of seeing Emmy; but she’d pulled out at the last minute. Onwards and yet more cider, by which point, we’re really starting to cook. And then a taxi across town to catch Iron and Wine.
My recollections of that show are vague. I do recall these frenetic, propulsive rhythms, that started working their way into my feet, climbing up to my hips, then blowing the cobwebs off of my shoulders, resulting in this writhing mass of drunken Scot. Bliss! Having found the beat, the remainder of my evening involved dancing without a care in the world.
Somehow, we’d found our way back to the Barfly, and on seeing the size of the queues, made our way into the venue under the pretence that we were Late of the Pier. By this time, everyone was under the same roof, and a roaring good time ensued. Eventually, I succeeded in losing everyone. But as luck would have it, Jamesy phoned, saving the day and rescuing me from my dance floor doldrums. We met up with Paul Harris, who was then good enough to let me sleep on the floor of his hotel room. Thanks Paul.
Friday began in dribs and drabs, as we all slowly reconvened outside the Queens Hotel. We had a show that night at a ridiculous hour, so we took the day real easy at a friend of Rainey’s, who was nice enough to put us up. That friend being Rob, who really was an incredibly good guy. Long baths and hilarious stories involving Rob and Rainey’s previous exploits passed the afternoon.
The show that evening was my least favourite of the whole tour. A horrible set-up, no sound check, a maniacal venue owner, and a 1:30am stage time. Good fortune wasn’t exactly on our side. Still, I was probably more disappointed by the fact that, friends whose opinions I value were in the audience, and I felt that we had done ourselves a disservice. O well, onward and upwards.
The remainder of the evening was spent at Rob’s pub, which I believe to be called Fitzherberts. A great time was had by all; but I think it was Christy for whom the night will forever be treasured, finding a hero in Rob, sitting around waxing lyrical over ‘Fisherman’s Blues’, by The Waterboys, with said album blaring out in the background. Much hearty laughter and merriment carried us home to bed.
We left Brighton on the Saturday for Pudsey once more. That night Domenic had prepared homemade pizzas for our arrival - delicious! Fresh, homemade, Vegan pizza is the greatest cure for a week of debauched behaviour, that I can assure you.
The next morning we got an early start on the day, having to be in Inverness by night, with a stop in Cumbernauld on route to rehearse with Rainey - who would be playing organ with us at the Kaiser Chiefs’ shows. The rehearsal went great, and we were all excited about the coming days. So with our bearings on the Highlands, we continued north.
Monday morning, and we arrive in Strathpeffer around lunchtime. A former Victorian spa resort, the town is truly a place of beauty. However, it’s not long before we have our first experience with the D.F. gig representative. He turns out to be the rudest, most unhelpful person we could ever have the misfortune to encounter! I really don’t care if he happens to read this, it’s all true. Not that I should go concerning myself with that actually happening: we’re too inconsequential for his time. Anyway, deciding it would be best to stay out of the way, we wander to the nearby café and soak up the town.
The sound check that night was a little stressful, but the show was most definitely my favourite of the tour. It felt so effortless, and everything just fell into place. Having Rainey on the organ really helped take things to another level, filling out parts that previously, had felt a touch sparse. Of course, due to being nervous, I over compensated with my voice and managed to blow it out. That made the remaining nights a real challenge. Even now, I’ve yet to get it back to full strength.
The second night was good; just not as good. A little looser and a touch frantic. The crowd were great however, and perhaps the most responsive we’ve encountered.
Wednesday morning we made our way to Oban, through some of the most breathtaking scenery you could imagine, I would like to add. However, by this point of the tour, our nerves were completely shot, and the three of us were convinced that those roads would be the end of our band. Having an arctic lorry approaching at 50mph on a single lane road is a terrifying prospect!
The last show then, and it was a good combination of our previous two - the crowd were responsive, and we managed to stray the right side of the line between being rousing and energetic, and completely chaotic. I found myself having to struggle a little too much with my voice to really enjoy it however. Still, we fulfilled our commitments and it was time to let our hair down - which we did in triumphant style!
My memories of that night are hazy at best, but I do remember falling out with everyone before making it back to the hotel.
The next day we had a long drive home, with an overbearing sense of melancholy hanging in the air. Not to let it get the best of us however, Jamesy proposed that we go swimming in a loch to help sober ourselves up. It may be the greatest plan he has ever hatched. I believe there to be a great moment on video, where, we’re all lined-up on the quay, myself and Steven at one with nature, before diving in, only to start screaming like girls due to the temperature drop. Good fun!
And so it’s to everyone who helped us out, in one way or the other, that I would like to say, thank you very much! We had a really great time, and we truly appreciate all of your effort, your patience, and your tolerance. With regards to Rainey … well, what would the tour have been without you?
In the coming months, when we’re doing this here touring malarkey a lot more frequently, these dates will be the precedent to which everything is compared.
