Goodtown Roadshow Part 2 - New South Wales

Lismore – Wet, Wet, Wet

Much of our tour navigation is directed by our occasionally whimsical and adventurous GPS system. For a laugh, on the way to Lismore it chose to navigate us through several kangaroo corpse filled dirt roads till we reached a town called “Woodenbong”. As a green fuzz fan, Si was excited by the name of this backwater town and gladly picked up the postcard from the shed-like general store. The store seemed to be the hub of the town. It was the kinda place where they only sold Snickers, Mars Bars and White Knights. They were yet to receive the Boost or even Aero. The locals seemed happy with this.

Despite being one of the most hardened rock n' roll members of Wagons, drummer Mark 'Tuckerbag' Dawson is very needy (as opposed to steely) on the road, constantly in need of a smoke, coffee, piss or snack. He must constantly feed his bodily, earthly desires. There is also hell to pay if his constitution receives a bad version of any of his requirements. A sniff of a bad sausage roll will send him into a foetal position. Mark was happy in Woodenbong until he said, while puffing on a fag, “Let's get a coffee at a cafe here! There must be one around the corner!” Umm....no. No espresso machines here for a few years yet. Not enough wankers like us living here yet. Onwards to Lismore! Mark was foetal for the rest of the ride. Farewell Woodenbong.

We arrived at what was to be a couple of days off at the beautiful Winsome Hotel. We were due to play there on Wednesday night, but we had some time off to fill in before then. We were put up in the amazing rooms upstairs, complete with spa baths and antique furniture. There was also truckloads of rain! I can't remember having seen more rain in my life. In Melbourne, I swear it hasn't rained properly since I was eight. I was not used to torrents of wet. It rained the whole time we were there...relentless. It was a constant tranquil accompaniment to our conversations. Against all odds, this gentle drone directed Mark, Si and my conversations towards the spiritual realms. We drank coffee, wine and interchangeably angered and bored each other about the nature of the world. I haven't had many of those kinds naïve universal truth conversations since I was a Pink Floyd fan in fist year Uni.

The Winsome Hotel was once only known as the local gay bar, but its now become the place in Lismore for live music and a gay bar. Despite torrential rain we had a great and respectful crowd watching our stuff. We really enjoyed the unique sounds of Black Ghost Party who had a unique country/grunge sound happening (a bit Nirvana unplugged, but with more beanies). We followed them with our three piece lineup. Our dynamic was great tonight. From loud to soft with aplomb. We stayed up late after the gig, drinking with Mick from The Re-mains and Maz the publican. We made exciting conversation about playing music in Canada. I made a hasty exit when the continual rain lulled Mark and Si towards spiritual conversation again.

The next morning, we were woken by the continual footsteps of Maz taking all the beer out of the basement. The hotel was flooding. After some brief farewells we got the hell outa there. We had to get to Coffs and we were concerned the roads would be closed. The river that ran alongside the pub looked like it was about to break the banks at any moment. Luckily we got outa there in the nick of time. We heard later that night that the whole of North Lismore was evacuated due to flood. We just made it out. I hope all our talk of Buddhist thought didn't provoke the wrath of Christ. I hope Maz successfully got all her chooks from her backyard into the upstairs rooms of the Winsome!

Coffs Harbour – Big Ass Lullaby

We pull up to the Hoey Moey, Coffs Harbour. The rain was horizontal. The news announced that Coffs was in serious danger of flooding overnight. The usually busy restaurant was shut. The ordinarily gruff bar staff were apologetic, instead of expectant. They thought about closing the pub, but no. These were all bad signs for us for the gig. It was pointing towards a heart-breaker.

The rain was so heavy. Big drops. Like getting the full face of a garden hose squirt as a toddler. The cheesy palm trees which line the venue were clearly having trouble. I went to our rooms and relaxed, planning for a quiet night. Luckily we were staying on semi-high ground, so we were in little danger of flooding, but I was a little worried about getting out of town the next day.

I tried to half fill the metaphorical glass....this would be a moderately paid rehearsal for the bigger gigs in Sydney on the weekend. Considering the hurricane outside I was suprisingly at peace with the situation and found it a bit exciting.

In the end we only had 12 people through the door that night. That was 10 more than I expected from a city under siege by an immanent flood. It's a good room and great PA, so we ended up having a good fun intimate show with the few who were there. A few local party girls stumbled in during the set and asked if we knew any Jack Johnson or Chilli Peppers. They were disappointed when I told them I only learn my own material. The looks on their faces suckered me in to playing 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by ACDC. The band remembered it with ease.

Having met and had a good chat with a few locals after the show I was approached by a teetering local lass turning the corner, fresh from a stint at the front bar. Having adjusted her minimal outfit, she came up to me and insisted I sing her a 'hot lullaby'. I told her the gig was over and that she she missed out some amazing soft and loving tunes. No more singing from me tonight. Wanna buy a CD? After some encouragement from my new Coff's friends I told her I would sing her a quick lullaby. After all, I was strangely interested in the concept of the 'hot lullaby'. Might be a good idea for a future Wagons track. I asked her “What should I sing about?” She said, “Hot lullaby, big ass”. I sang her those lyrics in a monotone vibrato. She gave me a satisfied smile and a high five and wandered back to the pool table. Weirdest request ever.

Newcastle – Where water drips from the lights

Having just got out of Coffs in the morning (the freeway was closed only 2 hours after we got through), we drove the 6 hours to Newcastle only to be greeted by more rain. It was the new normal for us. We entered the venue, to be greeted by pokies and homemade A4 posters advertising our gig. They looked like they had been made by a 4 year old learning how to use Printshop. Where was our usual tour poster? The poster also said our support act was “Driver8 (Nicko's Band)” [sic]. Who the fuck is Nicko? We were expecting to meet up with fantastic San Diego songster Gregory Page as our support on the night. This gig was looking a bit strange.

We had rushed more than we should have, through borderline flooded roads, to arrive at the so called “strict” 3pm sound check. Having dumped our gear we were approached by a limp manager saying “Oh sorry, there is no soundcheck today. We tell bands 3pm, but no-one ever shows up, so we were sure you wouldn't be here. We probably should have told you”. Mmm. Haven't dealt with this kinda venue in a while. Though a bit displaced, I tried to take it in my stride. I felt better after a short and mildly aggressive vent to the venue booker and bar management. With a renewed spring in my step we went back to the hotel to rest up. I was woken from a brief nap by our manager Mr K. Apparently Gergory Page had showed up at the venue and they told him to leave because Nicko's band was playing. Bloody hell. After a few quick calls to and fro it was all sorted and Nicko was kicked to the curb and we could do the business as planned.

When we got back to the venue the rain was creeping in. Water was dripping from the light fittings. Bad sign. Every time the door opened the venue was littered by the sound of the pumping karaoke night going on in the front bar. Unfortunately, it looked as though the PA was a little shit as well. Ouch. Perhaps another heart breaker! Two in a row is tough.

Against all odds and despite torrential rain, a nice and attentive crowd came in! Great! Matt 'Softmoods' Hassett flew in for this show. His presence was appreciated as we got through another rain swept set. When were the clouds going to dry? Who knows? Didn't matter. I suspect the sound wasn't crash hot... a bit like a gagged hostage, but all present had fun. I'm looking forward to playing Newcastle in better and dryer conditions later in the tour at the Bar on the Hill at Newcastle Uni on the 27^th of May.

Thankfully, no one was electrocuted.

Sydney – Urine coloured pool tables

This show was to be one of the most important of the tour. Though the regionals are really fun, its the metropolises which have the highest volume of people who can be brainwashed by my songs at any one time. In the lead up to the show we were lucky enough to get good, well-timed reviews in The Sydney Morning Herald and gig of the week in Drum media (in which we also earlier got CD of the week). We also arrived in Sydney early to do two radio interviews. We were expecting/hoping for this show to be to a packed Hopetoun Hotel.

We were staying up the road at the Medina on Crown. I was quite nervous about this one and had trouble relaxing. The temptation of the items from the mini-bar under the telly was unsettling. So expensive, yet so convenient and consumable. I settled for stealing a couple of Violet Crumble squares which Matty Softmoods opened. He had cracked before me. It was a victory and I was able to chill.

After amazing sets from Gregory Page and The Retreat it was time for us to play. We hit the stage to a warm Sydney welcome. It was a packed house. We hit our first few chords. The sound immediately reminded me of what a great place The Hopetoun was to play. Great sound on stage, with just enough coming back from the room to feel you are raising the roof. We ploughed through the first few rockin tracks, but I didn't feel we really connected with the crowd until our slower number 'Moonhorn Lake' which I feel went down a treat. There were people up the front singing along to the new tracks. We haven't had that in Sydney before, so I took this as a good sign this new record is getting out there and successfully brainwashing at least a few Sydney-siders. I played a solo song “Keep Your Eyes Off My Sister” as an encore and felt that the front row knew the words better than me. I thought if I screwed up a word I would be garroted. This thought made me screw up the words....but not too badly.

We had a great gig, and thanks for coming to the people of Sydney.

After the gig we went out to the Cleveland Hotel with the guys from the Retreat for some wind down drinks. I was amazed to see a urine coloured pool table there. It must be a Sydney thing...

Cronulla – Back cracking massage

After a superb organic poached eggs and avocado breakfast in Crown St, we headed south toward our Cronulla gig. We were staying in a house a couple of suburbs from Cronulla in Yowie Bay. It's the thick of pleasant suburbia, with a beast of a Westfield within walking distance. Perhaps I'll visit the food court.

Mark insists on a back massage during the day. We search the Cronulla mall for a therapist to satisfy Mark's ever-present earthly desires, but find nothing. We at Wagons part ways, having juice, naps, massage searches and Buddhist practice in our own separate worlds. We reconvene for soundcheck and dinner at The Brass Monkey later that afternoon. The venue is a lovely, intimate dinner and show kinda place. It might be a bit too sophisticated for us...its a bit more Kate Ceberano, but we can mostly manage in such cabaret environments. I actually love the captive seated audience's gaze. I just have to sass it up a little to hold their attention. But would I be in the mood tonight? I had come off four gigs in a row and was feeling a bit lethargic. Too much late night pool on urine coloured tables the night before saw me at less than the top of my game in the lead up to the gig. Our sound check was lethargic. Everyone was feeling the strain of the rigorous schedule. We were hoping the “It'll be alright on the night” theory would hold true for the show.

As usual Gregory Page played a great set opening the night, moving from songs of whimsy to the utmost insight in a subtle breath. He is hilarious, perceptive and I totally trust the weight of my own entertainment on his shoulders. A true songwriter and its been great to play these few shows with him.

The Retreat also put in another great performance, despite the death of some equipment. They are a relatively new band with a great energy and a fresh feel, kinda sounding a bit like a country/Brit pop mixture. I think you'll hear more from these guys in the future.

We got up on the stage to end the night. We tried our hardest but the lethargy must have seeped out of our eyeballs creating puddles of dreams at our feet. Though there was quite a crowd in the venue, somehow I didn't feel I quite reached everyone. After the show few people told me that reaching out and touching a Cronulla crowd was a dangerous thing to do in any case, so I shan't think on it too much. Somehow, the crowd was there but I couldn't see them. I am possibly making this all up, 'cause I got sufficient praise from a lot of folks after the gig helping to ease my concerns. But, in my world of dreams that night, I can't be totally confident I put my best foot forward. I can guarantee a better breed of Henry next time at the Monkey.

As we loaded in the car at the end of the night I was looking forward to hitting the hay more than ever. We'd played a mammoth 5 gigs in a row under trying and wet conditions and come through relatively unscathed and only a little damp. I went home, sang myself a 'hot lullaby' and had a rest.

Is it possible to call 101.1 Mix FM's Love Songs and Dedications program and have them play "It wasn't me" by Shaggy?

We tend to ask important questions like this when on tour. We don't expect nor do we want answers. The question is enough to sustain interest. It is important to exercise our minds in this way and stay alert. We have to share a confined space with Henry for several hours at a time. One can never be sure when he will test one's knowledge on the most surreal of topics. 

Wagons “Goodtown Roadshow” Tour Blog Part 1

I'm currently at the beginning of an ambitious 28 date tour to launch our new CD 'The Rise and Fall of Goodotwn' around Australia. We are pulling up to towns, large and small, unloading our shit, playing our shit whether people want it or not, packing up our shit and then driving to the next town in a Tarago that smells like shit. Simple and stinky.

I intend to keep you up to date will how its all going here via b[l]og.

We are all very excited about playing these new songs from our best record yet and, though I can only judge by the four shows played over this past weekend, I have a feeling its going to be a blast to the brains.

Gundagai – grilled fish on the tuckerbox

We left on Wednesday, taking an easy two days of driving to get to our first gig in Bulli. We stopped over at a motel in Gundagai. We wanted to ease into this tour. We have a lot of long haul driving to do in the coming weeks so we wanted a tranquil start.

Gundagai has been long dead since the freeway passed it by. The famous Gundagai Dog-on-the-Tuckerbox Roadhouse is now many km's from the town and probably earns much more money in a day than the town does in a month.

The Gundagai main drag was full of the old and the ugly. We fit in well. The shops had window adornments which could only have been made by the tired and insane. The bed shop had a double bed in the front window with a lone baby doll with its head face down in the pillow, as if trying to suffocate itself. The jewelery shop had two sullen sheep statues as sentinels guarding the door for no apparent reason.

We went to the Criterion Pub and ate fish. As I am now on Twitter (www.twitter.com/HenryWagons), and I tweeted a picture of Si eating his fisherman's basket shortly after he received his meal. I immediately received replies straight to my phone that we should not be eating fish so far from the sea. Sensible, and considerate.... but this ruined my meal as my substantial grilled fish meal was brought to me. To combat this I imagined my trout was a strange land dwelling fish, hunted down by the tired locals. This made my meal a bit more bearable.

In the morning, after the tour's first bacon and egg sandwich in and old ladies cafe we hit the road to our first gig in Bulli.

Bulli – greasy reluctant hugs

We were back at the Heritage Hotel, a grand old pub and excellent venue. The mixer Donnie was there early. Apparently the singer from Thirsty Merc had been there the previous night playing in his new funk band, and the Thirtsy Merc dude's mixer had disassembled the whole PA, installing new 'superior' equipment which could cope with the singer's 'superior' talent. Donnie was surprised no one really showed up to his gig. I was less surprised.

We had a blast at our gig that night, playing as a three piece: a tight Wagons guitar, bass and drums punk-rock lineup. Mark, Si and I are the road hardened warriors, with the rest of the crew mostly flying in for the capital city shows on the weekends, having worked during the week.

On stage tonight we let our all our roadhouse egg and lettuce sandwich blues out on the crowd and, for the most part, the crowd lapped it up. All except for one fat, greasy local, shielded by the darkness of the audience. He told me to “Shut up and play some music” at one moment of quiet reflection. He further explained that he had, “..come here to see music, not watch me CRAP ON!”. This was great. He provided me with some direction for the gig and I made sure that I talked and talked about what I thought of him for the rest of the show. I dedicated most songs to him in order to turn him around. I think I managed to bludgeon him into submission and I got a soft and liquid hug from him when I jumped off the stage during the final song. It was a great, yet slightly ramshackle start to the tour.

Was great to meet supports Emma and Gregory. They put in superb performances before we played. In the future I have to be careful of how much wine I sup when enjoying music before we play. Mental note.

Gold Coast – Incubus and League

We had to get up early the next morning to drive to the Gold Coast. We crashed at our managers place in Sydney overnight. His fine hospitality did not distract us from the fact we had a truly horrific drive followed by a gig on this day. It took us 12 hours along windy roadwork laden roads before we reached the Gold Coast. It was great to see the landscape change as we drove further and further north. This was the only redeeming feature of the drive. Even alphabet games which involve the A to Z of sticky things could not relieve us from the relentlessness of the drive.

We eventually got out at the venue on Miami Beach in the Gold Coast. We started to load our gear in. We had to walk past a cover band playing MGMT and Chisel with a lineup consisting of an acoustic guitar and a drummer with an over active double kick pedal. Turns out the venue is the kinda of place with fifty TVs, relentlessly playing Rugby League and Incubus film clips. I thought that this gig might be a bit tough.

After a beautiful dinner at a packed sushi train down the road, we returned to a fairly desolate venue. Apart from a few hardened Wagons fans, this was a bit of a heart-breaker second gig into the tour. Now that Grundy's was closed down, I thought there would be nothing left for the Gold Coast people to do except to go out to pubs! Seems not... Seems they prefer tanning and eating sushi in this climate. Steve and Rich flew in for this gig. Having made it with just minutes to spare before playing time (their plane was substantially delayed, causing lead singer/tour-manager substantial stress), we managed to have a valuable run through of the songs before what was bound to be a big show in Brissie the next night, so all was not lost.

The staff started to close the bar as we struck our last chord. We couldn't even get a post gig wind-down beer or two. We were thrust out on the street having done our dash on the rickety cockroach ridden stage. Let's be honest...this place was a hell-hole of a weeping scar. I'm looking forward to playing a better venue next time we hit this Coast of Gold.

Brisbane – Cover-girl lashes

In Brisbane, Wagons were cover-girls! We adorned the cover of the biggest Brissie street press (the 'Time Off' magazine) in the week leading up to our show. Having played Brissie a few times in the past and never setting the world on fire, we thought this cover might change our fortunes in this town a little. Our record had also been really kindly received at local station ZZZ and well reviewed everywhere else in the town, so we were expecting a big and rowdy crowd. Lucky for us we got it! It was our best show at the Troubador to date. We played suitably well. Was great fun. I gained too much enjoyment from playing with the tassels above the stage during the show.

The gig reminded me of the early days in Melbourne playing to a packed Empress...except better, cause this audience was fit, tanned and beautiful Queensland Gods and Godesses. It was like looking out at a tourist brochure, or maybe at the picture of the people on the box of a new swimming pool li-lo. No pasty Victorian complexions to be seen....pure gold (ironically more Gold than at our gig last night).

We celebrated with some locals and bar staff long after the gig was over and had a blast. Poor Rich and Steve had to go home early to sleep before their early flight home the next morning.

Mark, Si and I stayed back a bit, and I didn't get to eat at my favourite food joint in Brissie (The New York Pizza Slice) until well into the early hours of the morning. Big thanks to Texas Tea and Felicity Groom for playing to such an awesome and inspiring standard. It was great to meet some new Wagons friends! I love this town.

Small breakfast observation

The further north you go the more likely it is that you'll be thrown a grilled tomato whether you like it or not.

For those who have read my tour blogs before, you will know I love breakfast. I think about it throughout the day. I have been trying to eat healthily during this tour and have often ordered poached eggs on toast with a side of avocado. Yum and almost healthy. When ordering this for the last few days I have also had a tomato chucked on. Mark and Si's breakfasts also seem to have unrequested tomatoes chucked on....they are going out the door! Interesting. I wonder if Queenslanders expect a tomato when eating breakfast in Melbourne. I can imagine a complaint as follows: “Excuse me waiter, where is my tomato? I thought I ordered the bacon and eggs!”

Toowoomba – pancake drink

A superb couple named Cookie and Shannon run an awesome venue called Bon Amici's in Toowoomba. Its a great spot, in the main drag of town, in a city atop a mountain range. I was skeptical as to whether anyone would come to our gig on this cold Sunday night.

We all slammed down some tacos compliments of the house. Thankfully, I was pleased to see a fair crowd of people coming through the gates. The people entered as Si forced down a final taco. Si, to everybody's amazement, hates Mexican food! How is this possible? I'll tell you. He hates avocado and refried beans. There you go....simple.

Supreme barman Cookie gave Mark and Si pancake flavoured shots. I sat on my one glass of wine all night. I had wrecked myself the night before....too much rock n' roll lifestyle this early in a tour can break a man! I was taking it easy tonight.

Stone cold sober Henry tore up the stage with my alcohol drenched pancake-breathed side-kicks. It was a vibrant yet punky 3 -piece rollick. The crowd seem to enjoy our force. It was great fun.

I was a sweaty wet and greasy pulp after the show and felt like going straight back the the hotel room, but alas I could not. An elaborate poker game was planned for me. Word had got around I was a gambling man and the locals wanted my blood. Mark and I went around the corner into the gambling den that is Cookie and Shannon's garage and played cards into the wee hours soaked in musk sticks, cigars and brandy. It was actually great fun. Cookie took all our $5 entry fees with ease. Mark Tuckerbag, a rank amateur, took 2^nd place and a $5 profit!

I'm already looking forward to my return to this Queensland hilltop cultural mecca.

Now....northern NSW awaits us.