So, with my lowdown on the latter half of the European tour still languishing somewhere in the dusty channels of my decrepit hard-drive back in Edinburgh, it appears we have hit the road again... Tuesday night saw us at The Duchess in York, a town famed for it's minster and Viking Centre (a feature which it shares with Largs, helping make Dave feel right at home). It is of course also reknowned for that fantastic confection, the York Fruit.

We were playing with support from locals Stop Motion and the Leeds-based Tigers That Talked, and it was a good night all in all regardless of a pretty meagre attendance (indeed, the town had all the bustle of a rainy Sunday morning in Edinburgh, ie. deserted, so no surprises). That night we headed to Doncaster, Travelodging it (infinitely more comfortable than their European counterparts), and had no great rush to get up in the morning so everyone caught up on some sleep Wednesday morning. It was a reasonably quick drive to Liverpool, where we were playing in the Masque Theatre. We didn't know any of the details for the day so when we rounded the corner and discovered that the Masque Theatre was in fact a cunningly disguised Barfly, scene of a pretty miserable day last time we were here, it raised a few chuckles. We parked up and went for a coffee, Kas receiving a phone call from the promoter to let us know that the gig was still on and that we were to load in at three, to which the reply was, "That's great, we're sitting outside anyway". About ten minutes later the heavens opened and we typically had to load in in a deluge. It turns out that the Masque has put some effort into improving the venue since it was a Barfly, although we were playing the only stage we haven't already done there, the tiny podium in "Ink" which is off the downstairs bar. With some careful arrangement we managed to get everyone on the stage, I was on a raised corner surrounded by stacks of amps with just my head sticking out and no monitor which was a bit like sitting in a washing machine. There were a dozen bands on the three stages and the place was buzzing. We didn't start until near midnight, and it was a good banging set which was surprisingly fun after our reservations of the afternoon.

We stayed in Stafford last night and are currently sitting backstage at the Bush Hall in London, having had a greasy tea of chicken burger and chips. Fun times! Bristol tomorrow. Over and out.

BR xxx

Despite my assertions in a prior blog concerning being caught in the can when you should be on stage, I now believe there is no worse feeling than waking up with a hangover to discover you have slept in a park, in a strange city, in a country where you don't speak the langauge, with no phone, no idea where your hotel is, or indeed the name of the hotel, and about five euros in cash to your name. To add to this distressed frame of mind there are two German women seemingly mocking me for not speaking German (it appears, from what little I can peice together, that they have spent the night or morning in the park drinking with us). Rory has lost his shoes and is off chasing squirels somewhere. The sun is beating down in a way that suggests mid-to-late afternoon, and there are indeed families doing the whole Sunday park-strolling thing around us.

Luckily one of our new German friends lives relatively nearby, I think, and they claim to have both a computer and some coffee so we head in that direction, in a state of befuddlement but with clarity gradually returning. I remember being in one of Cologne's late opening nightclubs until it was light, maybe six or seven in the morning, then we were in a shop, we lost some people on the way, picked up some more, a straggling group of local nighthawks, none of whom seemed to know each other aside from those of us in the Schottlander Band, rock and rollers, ja? My ribs hurt, christ, suddenly the image of a scary looking gentleman looms in my mind. He has a wild spark of aggression in his eyes and I remember him launching himself at me in the club, taking me out with one unexpected leap. This was my first experience of the mosh pit, and it seems I had strayed my right foot an inch or two over some imaginery line which made me fair game. I remember Rory complaining of a similar occurance at the bar. I recall Kas and Gill running back in for more, seemingly gluttons for punishment. Where did they go?

"Hey Schottlander, hey Ruby, we get off here."

Alighting from the U-bahn in an unknown part of town we head round to a nice flat adorned with empty wine bottles and I proceed to try and find our hostel for the evening, between bouts of dozing on the couch. Some hours later after the dinner guests have arrived, classily pushing the cork into their bottle of wine with a spoon for want of a corkscrew and then passing the bottle round for want of glasses, we say our goodbyes and leave clutching an old Lidl receipt with the single word "Marzellenstrasse" scrawled on it in biro. Rory has rallied well and does a sterling job of stopping everyone we pass and testing out his German skills to help us find our way to a bed. We get as far as the Dom. I try to look up at it but i nearly fall over, it's too big, too imposing to take in. Rounding the corner past the MacDonalds, just where the woman on the train said it would be, is Marzellenstrasse, and about halfway down the road outside the Station Hostel stands Gill which is definitely a good sign. We get a key for the room, head back to the square and look at the cathedral for a while, glad to have some bearings again. The rest of the lads are out across town having dinner, so we grab a bite and go back to doze a while in the hostel before their return.

The next day is like a new dawn compared to the way I felt on Sunday morning. Indeed, it is a new week, and a new country as we bid farewell to Germany and get on the road to the Netherlands around lunchtime. The week round Germany has been great, the crowds a little larger than I expected and the reception very good all in all. The hospitality we have been shown here has been second to none. As we head towards Utrecht we discuss when we will be coming back, and sooner rather than later seems to be the concensus.

Utrecht is a city we have played in before, supporting the Black Keys at Tivoli in the old town. This time we are at the other Tivoli venue, Tivoli De Helling, a seemingly custom designed venue and very well organised. They have a washing machine and a drier! Woohoo! Get some laundary done during soundcheck, which is a tricky one as the stage is very "dry". This is something we will need to get used to, basically turning things down on the stage. We've got so used to cranking everything up in the monitors that the noise coming off stage is interfering with Kas's job of mixing the sound on the PA, which isn't so obvious until we get to venues which are adhering to EU noise level restrictions. It was getting a bit silly-loud in Cologne, with the guitar amps in my right ear and the monitor in my left it felt like two competing jet engines, but with everything quieter you feel like you're losing some of the "oomph". You're not, but it is difficult to get over that and not to feel that you have to leather everything to try and recapture it. As a result in a set lasting over an hour you feel like you've had to throw the kitchen sink at it and everyone seemed a little unsure as to how it went. However, from Kas's point of view it was the best and clearest sounding set of the tour so far. So swing and roundabouts - it's a learning curve, and there's a ways to go yet.

We find the hotel on the outskirts of town, noting that "breakfast is until 10, but most bands don't usually take it, because...well, because it's only until 10...". I catch a little News 24 to see what's been going on in the last week, which is dominated by a seemingly drunk Andrew Neil interviewing people at the bar at the Tory Party Conference. Exciting stuff.

The great thing about Dutch hotels is that they seem to know how to do a good breakfast, and, despite not wanting to appear unlike "most bands", by the time I arrive most of the lads are already on their third platefull of goodies. After a hearty bread, cheese and cold meats starter, I help myself to a mound of bacon, eggs, sausages and mushrooms, several cups of coffee, the same again in orange juice, some toast,  and a few slices of something akin to Jamaica cake, then head back to the room for a much needed lie down as I was experiencing the "bacon sweats" (which tend to coincide for me with the left-arm numbness...). After a quick sleep and a long shower we make for the local university, where a lot of the buildings have been designed by various highly respected architects from around the Netherlands and Europe. Our first port of call is the Educatorium, designed by Rem Koolhaas (or, as Rory tells us was the preferred nomenclature around Dundee University, Rem Kool-as-fuck...), which is a striking building and we were pleased to be able to just walk in and have a good old wander round as the students went about their lectures. Then we went to the library, designed by Wiel Arets, and again, like most of this modern campus, an award-winning piece of architecture and a really great working space. You feel like you could actually get a lot of work done in these buildings, and compared to the library at St Andrews (which I managed to avoid for most of my time there), it seems the students here were doing just that. Even as we passed the cafe bar between the two buildings, everyone was drinking coffee and seemed to have books with them, despite it being after midday and with Heineken freely available.

We were heading to Rotterdam for the show at Rotown, but unlike Germany all the distances for the Dutch leg of the tour required very little driving, no more than an hout or so anywhere, so we had time to check into the hotel (conveniently located directly opposite the venue), have a coffee and then split up and take a look round town. Because Rotown was a functioning restaurant and cafe bar during the day, we couldn't load in until after five so we had the whole afternoon to ourselves. I headed with Gill to the Kunsthalle to check out the Hopper exhibition, but it was out of my price range (ie. not free) so we went to have a look at the Natural History Museum, where I decided to go my seperate way and walk through the Museum Park, having a look at the Villa House and then off around the town. As it seemed to be an architecture appreciation day I thought I would head for the Cube Houses we had seen on the way in, but my geography was a little off and I couldn't find them. Instead I opted for the dandering aimlessly approach, eventually sitting by the canal around the corner from the street we were playing, watching the constant stream of trams at the junction on the other side, and the cyclists trying to decide whether to speed up and try to cross the junction before getting squished, or to slow down and let the tram do it's thing each time the bell started ringing.

The venue was an interesting one, kind of like Manchester's Night And Day in appearance (although not worn-looking...), and the stage was actually used as part of the bar during the day with tables set up on it and so on. We loaded in and had a feast of a tea in the other room, which was behind the stage but could be seperated by means of two layers of glass doors and black curtains. Soundcheck was before doors opening, so we didn't have long to wait between getting off stage and going back on for the gig. We had a minor panic thinking we had lost Jim, but he was found nearby (!) and we played to the biggest crowd of the tour thusfar, presumably helped by our appearance at the Metropolis Festival a few months back. We packed up and settled in for a few beers, talking to the venue staff about Dutch politics and the like until about four over a glass or two of some kind of local schnaps-type liqueur. We politely declined the offer to go for a "real beer" after they had counted up the tills, with the memory of Cologne still too fresh in the mind, and Amsterdam to get to the following day.

The alarm goes off all too soon on Wednesday morning and it's down to breakfast, a slightly more bread-and-cheese heavy affair than yesterday's but washed down with some good coffee and juice which seems to be the best possible start to a day. We were off to Amsterdam, to play upstairs at the Paradiso, not the first time we have played this room as we were there for London Calling last April. Load in is tricky as we have to negotiate a small lift with brutal doors that stop for no man, and a pissed-off man trying to get a trolley full of juice up to the bar which I inadvertantly remove from the lift and replace with a pile of amps. However, we finally get sorted, but as there is another band on after us (we aren't supporting them, they actually run two seperate gigs on the same night), they have to soundcheck before us leaving the afternoon pretty much free again. On this occasion I opt out of the "tourist" vibe and have a sandwich in the dressing room followed by a short nap, followed by coffee and sitting by the canal out the back waving at the tour boats.

It was a good gig from where I was sitting, although afterwards we had to go for the speedy pack up as the other band were waiting to put their stuff on. We were able to leave all our stuff in a cupboard though so rather than load out we walked to the hostel, a ten minute walk from the venue (which, as Jamie lamented, felt a bit longer as nobody had had any dinner yet and we had been drinking beer on a collectively empty stomach). We headed round for a spicy pizza, followed up by a bottle of Westmalle Triple, which pretty much finished me off. Arne was in the mood for "the dancing" and formed a group heading back to the Paradiso, but for once I couldn't bring myself to continue (it wasn't just fear of "the dancing", honest...), and headed back to the hostel for a bit of a catch up on the old sleep. How very rock-and-roll...

The next morning it was time to bid farewell to the Netherlands and make our way to Belgium, which will follow...

Shortly!

BR xxx

............................

Got a bit more battery this time…

.. ..

We are currently sitting backstage in the Tivoli De Helling in ....Utrecht...., having finished soundcheck and a tasty dinner of pork and veg. Stage time in one hour. It’s a new week and a new country, having spent the last week going round ....Germany.... which has been great. We started in ....Heidelberg.... which was a beautiful place, with houses up the hill on each side of the river and a great venue. We were taken to a local pub which brewed it’s own beer served in big stone mugs and were treated to a ridiculous feast of pork, saumagen, cabbage, potato salad etc. By the time we got to stage we had all put on a few stone but managed to sweat most of it off during the set. We played for an hour or so with an encore, which is apparently quite short by German standards. It’s a learning curve all the way here…

.. ..

The next day was ....Munich...., we arrived a little early in the afternoon so decided to pop into the Oktoberfest which was already getting pretty manic at two in the afternoon. We went into the biggest beer hall I have ever seen, easily holding several thousand people, with a Bavarian brass band on a podium in the middle which would periodically strike up a tune to much raucous swinging of the litre steins of strong beer which were being delivered to the tables. Unfortunately we only had about half an hour to take in the sites before heading to the venue, Ampere, which was in an old hydro power station. Soundcheck was good and we sat out the back sampling the local weissbiere and eating trout fillets followed by chicken and another massive mountain of potato salad. The night went down well and we played for around an hour and a quarter, throwing in some songs we don’t usually get to do in the shorter sets we’ve played in Britain.

.. ..

We made our way to ..Berlin.. on Thursday, Arne providing us with a little tourist trail on the way in to the venue, ..Lido... This was a great venue in an old cinema, and we were greeted outside by Rab who had come out for the craic taking pictures of the gig. He summed up the area quite well in that it was “real”, with old women taking their shopping bags along the road alongside punks, students and so on, with graffiti all the way down the street. We had a struggle getting parked, which apparently happens every night so the police were called to remove a car that was blocking the road, then we went through the soundcheck, had a curry and a few beers and played another good set. By this time we were really starting to enjoy our time in ....Germany.... and we went out afterwards with Arne’s friends who were kindly putting us all up in their flat, drinking cheap beer into the small hours of the morning and stealing glasses of wine.

.. ..

The next morning was a bit tough having been woken at eight by Jim who had mistakenly thought it was eleven. I panicked a little as we were meant to be on the road by half nine to get to ....Hamburg...., but it turns out we had plenty of time so I went to the street and found a coffee house to sit outside in the sun for an hour. ....Hamburg.... was part of the Reeperbahn Festival, in the O2 temporary arena, which was well organised but had a bit of a corporate feel to it, with rows of seats set out in the style of a business conference.

.. ..

And now it’s time to go for a line check, so more will follow tomorrow I think, adventures in ..Hamburg.., ..Cologne.. and ....Utrecht....….

.. ..

BR xxx

There are probably few feelings worse in life than standing in a confined, stinking plastic box, attempting to answer the call of nature whilst simultaneously trying to avoid dysentry, when the sound of an MC saying "Ladies and gentleman, please welcome to the stage...Broken Records!" floats from the stage, some hundred yards away, to your ears. You are then faced with a dilemma - to arrest mid-act and risk having to carry a pair of piss-stained jeans to Germany and back, or to take the extra minute to finish up, which will necessitate a sprint to the stage doing up your trousers, to the amusement of the backstage crew, as Ian and Rory play the loop at the start of Nearly Home over and over again on an otherwise empty stage. I opt for the latter.

As it has been several weeks since my last confession, and I have jumped ahead of myself somewhat, I will go back to the beginning with our trip up to Belladrum the preceding Friday. We were on the main stage this year which has a really nice setting, and there was a good crowd out for a Friday late afternoon too. The rain held off until we were just about finished packing the van after our set, so we ran to the catering tent for a bit of dinner, and indeed Davey "Two Meals" Smith managed to have, aptly, two meals. I went for one meal and two cakes as I have some sense of decency (and two cakes goes very well with two coffees), then we headed homewards for a Saturday of doing laundry and sleeping.

Festival Survival Tip #6 - You get more "bang for your buck" if you get down with the lentil brigade.

Sunday saw us heading south to The Big Chill, in glorious sunshine. We unloaded the van a few miles from the stage (that may be a slight exaggeration) and myself and Kas sat with the gear to wait for a trailer. Some hours later (that may be a slight exaggeration), a trailer arrived and we drove round to the stage, past the enormous abandoned tower of Vitamin Water(TM), and having only injured one or two suicidal pedestrians on the way. Once everything was in order I went off for a vegan burger (see Tip #6 above) and caught up with some friends while working on my "Scotsman's Tan" (deep red). This brings us neatly round to the opening paragraph, when a few of us got caught out by an enthuasiastic clock, but having arrived sheepishly on stage we went on to play an enjoyable set. It took quite a while afterwards to get all the kit back to the appropriate loading point so we hung around backstage looking forlorn until they gave us some more free beer, then set off for the delights of the Travelodge (I think - I really need to start keeping a diary. Maybe we slept in the van. Who knows? Who even cares?).

Monday saw us into London in the afternoon for a "courtyard session" for The Fly (video available in previous blog). As drums were deemed a bit much in this case I undertook some "very important" jobs such as going to buy batteries and smoking, leaving Jim, Rory, Arne and Dave to do some cool acoustic-ness. Then we went round to the Royal Festival Hall to load in ahead of the evening's support slot with The National. The venue was more than impressive in scale and the staff more than helpful in demeanour, indeed there appeared to be a lady assigned to our dressing room (actually, three dressing rooms, each with it's own piano...) solely to slice ham and follow me around wrapping things up in cling film as I casually made a sandwich. The stage was great, the layout of the seats was a little intimidating from my position on the riser but the half hour set was over so quickly I didn't really have time to think about it. We packed up sharpish and headed upstairs to one of the boxes to watch The National, the first time I'd seen them and they really were very good. A lot "harder" than I was expecting as well. Afterwards I managed to lose everyone whilst looking for an errant hi-hat stand and ended up six floors up trying to find the mysterious Artists Bar. When I did finally find it it seemed to be filled with very tall drummers (we were just missing Mick Fleetwood for the full set...), and Ian accosted me in a flap having just blurted out some "I want your babies"-style banter to the very tall drummer of the Bad Seeds concerning their Latitude set. I managed to avoid any similar incidents by not speaking to anyone at all until we were crushed in a tiny lift at the end of the night (which, according to the safety notice could have held another three people - a likely story). We had a look for a bar afterwards but it seems that getting a late drink in London is a trickier business than in Edinburgh at the moment (although the 5am licencing won't last forever...), so we went back to our long-suffering friend's flat in Brick Lane for a few tins and a kip.

We had the following day off, a few of us having to meet at the Festival Hall to pick up the gear at five but with the rest of the day to ourselves. As I was running perilously low on finances by this stage of the game, I had taken the liberty of memorising four pages of the A - Z the previous night, in the hope that I could avoid public transport and spend the day exploring the locality on foot. After spending some time in a park, I found my way to the British Museum, and spent most of the afternoon there before navigating my way south (I did actually use the position of the sun for this, as by this point I had completely forgotten what the map looked like). We loaded the van and sat by the river for a beer before heading back for some tasty dinner and drinks at Brick Lane, and a thoroughly refreshing sleep.

Wednesday saw us heading to Germany for the first time (as a band. Obviously Arne has been there lots...), to play the Haldern Festival. We stayed in Rees (I think), on the Rhine, arriving some time after a lot of the local eateries had already closed, but managed to find somewhere that would sell us pork and chips with a gallon of mayonnaise and some tasty beers before heading back to the hotel. It was a nice evening for walking and the town was quite sleepy, indeed the only things I saw stirring on the way back were rabbits, lots and lots of rabbits. Our room had a small balcony so I stood out and watched the lights of the boats heading up the Rhine for a bit before Kas returned from the pub and climbed up the balcony, taking some of the edge off of the peacefulness...

Festival Survival Tip #13 - Beware the Irish, beware drummers.

We took breakfast in the hotel dining room, which made the most of it's location by having full length windows all the way round the side facing the river. There were constant boats and coffee, the wheels of industry and the ham rolls were turning, and I left feeling ready for the day. We decided to stock up on cheap beers and pastries at Lidl (over the bridge, left hand side...), before heading to Kalkar for some extravagent ice creams and strong coffee in the market square and a walk down to a windmill. We then headed for the festival site, Arne charming passing cyclists with his witty chat, of which I understood nothing, arriving in the early afternoon. We were playing in a big speigeltent, all wood and mirrors, with big screens outside for the punters that couldn't fit in. It had all the humidity of a sauna and as one band had dropped from the bill our set had increased to an hour which was a royal workout and a chance to test some new material too. Afterwards we went for tea, a ludicrous feast of meat and tasty bits, washed down with copious amounts of beer, self-service taps of which seemed to be available all over the backstage area. We went back to watch a few bands and meet Arne's family before they set off, then headed backstage to our dressing room/caravan to grab a few more beers. Things start to go downhill a little around about this point, I recall talking to some ladies from Liverpool and then Kas going to bed at a shockingly early juncture, the meal having taken it's toll. A few people went to the lake for a swim, and I ended up doing the rounds of the campsite with an Irish fellow from one of the other bands, also a drummer. At some point we picked up some of the stage crew who we had met earlier that day, who also helped with some of the more difficult campfire translation (do you have any cigarettes? etc.), my last recollection being sneaking into the backstage area with some 2 litre water bottles to fill them from the free beer taps.

I awoke in Belgium (?) with my jacket over my head and a bottle of apple juice clutched in my hand, although I had had breakfast backstage with Dave earlier that very morning, apparently. If I did it wasn't at the forefront of my memory, but as we didn't have a gig that day I didn't worry too much about this state of affairs and tried to spend as much time sleeping as possible. It seems we missed the ferry but got on a later one ok, and after a restorative McDonalds (bleurgh) things started to look a little better. We made it to Toddington alright and set about monging in front of the telly and dozing. The next morning was a lot better, until we stopped the van to put some air in the tyres, and it wouldn't start again. After a while someone from the AA arrived, and did a remarkable job of fixing the engine, for a jakey (geddit?). Although his parting words were, if you stall it or stop the engine, it'll never start again. So no pressure for the drivers.

Festival Survival Tip #21 - It is the responsibilty of the driver to check oil, water, and tyres DAILY.

We made it to Summer Sundae in Liecester without stopping the engine and found our way to the stage, albeit a little on the late side. It seems that communications between the festival and ourselves had been minimal since it was booked and there was a good bit of trying-to-work-out-what-was-going-on going on, but we got on alright and played fine. As it was in the middle of Liecester the volume was reportedly set low enough to have a normal conversation pretty much right in front of the stage which meant that there was maybe a little impact lacking but all in all I think it went over ok. By some miracle of engineering the van started again afterwards and we were able to head back to Edinburgh in time for the Queens Hall show the following Monday.

Which will follow a bit later!

BR xxx

To mark the 40th anniversary of the release of Abbey Road (my how the time flies) Mojo magazine have put together a free cd of cover versions with this month's issue. We contributed a version of Oh! Darling so hunt down a copy while you can! BR http://cover.mojo4music.com/Item.aspx?pageNo=1804&year=2009

Hi everyone,

We recorded (I say we, I mean Jamie, Rory, Arne & Dave - Gill, Andy and myself sat around drinking coffee and heckling!) acoustic versions of Nearly Home and If The News for The Fly in the courtyard behind their office on Monday.  Check them out here:

http://www.muzu.tv/thefly/broken-records-broken-records-nearly-home-flytv-in-the-courtyard-music-video/284836

http://www.muzu.tv/thefly/broken-records-broken-records-if-the-news-makes-you-sad-dont-watch-it-flytv-in-the-courtyard-music-video/284835

ianbrokenrecord