Euro Tour 2009

Intro – Wednesday:

Ok, so here goes.  9 days of madness, drinking, sleep deprivation, gigs, blags, and all round family fun.  I can’t speak for the boys about how their journey to Amsterdam was, as I was already there. I had been for a couple of days.  I was treating this first bit as a bit of a holiday.  My first contact with them when they were en-route was about 6am Wednesday morning, when I had woke up at the campsite in ‘Dam, and as they were already supposed to be there, I thought I should call them.  Stu’s phone, as it turned out, was not set up for European calling.  I got through to him, and the conversation went something like:

‘Hey man, how’s it going, where are you?’

‘Oh Scott, it’s all gone wrong.  Tom’s been arrested’.

Then his phone setup thing kicked in, and it disconnected.  I am now shitting myself, thinking tour is ruined before it’s started.  It takes about 5 minutes for me to get through to anyone else, the longest 5 minutes I’ve ever had.  After my second conversation I was a bit happier, turns out they had some issues getting to the Eurotunnel on time, and are going past Rotterdam.  Tom was not arrested. After about an hour, they get to the campsite, and it still feels like a holiday.  We set up the tents, and get into the town for some breakfast.

After a few hours of sampling the delights of Amsterdam, including a very memorable walk through the redlight, we go back to the campsite and have some food.  Most of the boys crash out for a few hours, fair enough really as this is about 36 hours awake.  We get back into town for the evening, and embark on one of the heaviest sessions I can (just about) remember.  We went to a few places that night, the most memorable being a place called Nastys.  Within a few minutes, it slowly dawns on us that it is a gay bar. After this is confirmed by the guys behind the bar, much hilarity and much drinking is involved.  Many shots of JD, Hungarian moonshine, and some crazy peppermint coloured stuff that tasted of toothpaste, an impromptu drumming session kicks up...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPLil2G60mI

You must excuse the quality.  We were absolutely wasted...

After saying our goodbyes, and picking up some vital information about the difference between red and blue lights (!), we headed, via the redlight again, back to the campsite.  About 4.30 am, we crash.

Thursday – Winston Kingdom, Amsterdam, Netherlands:

All very hungover, we basically nurse ourselves back to some sort of normality at the campsite during the day, lying about in the hot summer sunshine.  We drive into Amsterdam for our first show.  Doesn’t feel like a holiday anymore, especially after working our way around the Amsterdam one way system.  We finally find the correct way in to the bit we need, and get into gig mode.  To say that the first show at ‘The Winston’ was a bit quiet is a total understatement.  At the start of the show, there were more of us on stage than in the audience.  That had switched around by the end of the show, but not by that much.  Still, we had fun, and to be honest, I personally didn’t mind too much, as we were all not up to our best after the night before. Open Season were up after us, with their particular take on ska and reggae.  Good band, and real nice people as well. Still though, it was fairly early in the evening, and there really weren’t too many people about.  Thanks to the sound guy, and the security fella that night, we had a proper good laugh.  Like to think we’ll be back there again.  

Friday - Bebel Bar, Cottbus, Germany:

It certainly doesn’t feel like a holiday anymore.  We leave the campsite and set out on the road.  This was supposed to be the longest drive of the lot (as it turned out it wasn’t, more on that later) and I knew it was going to be a mission to get anywhere on time.  I had been to Germany before, but not as far east as we went.  It seems that the further east you go, the more it looks like the old East Germany.  Sounds stupid I suppose, just until you see it with your own eyes, it doesn’t really register as real. The further east, the more 1970’s it becomes.  Slowly, the more and more grey and bleak it gets.  Also, as the weather was getting worse, this probably didn’t help it not to look grey. Everything looked grey.

The road names once we got to Cottbus didn’t help.  We drove down Karl Marx Strasse, Yuri Gargarin Strasse and drove past some very old looking shops amongst a few condemned buildings.  There were some nice looking, newer parts to the town, but most of it looked pretty old and despressing. After finally finding the venue, and meeting one of our bookers, Vogel, for the first time, we played to a fairly young crowd, very energetic  and alot of fun.  Conga lines are normally a good sign. We ended up playing 2 sets, due to a fairly major lack of communication between us and the bar manager, and Vogel had to step in and do some translations for us. 

At some point that evening, presumably when we were playing, the van was robbed.  We had some important stuff go missing, most of it completely useless to anyone but us.  Laptop (UK plug), phones (cancelled the SIM and the phone), SatNav (UK only), all got a cash value, albeit a small one.  Wash bag, book, old leather jacket? Come on now, this is just pointless. Insulin? What the fuck? We can only hope that they injected themselves with it hoping to get high and ended up screwing their health up. At least none of the instruments went missing. 

Still, thanks to the bar staff and Vogel that night, even if the robbery somewhat dampened our mood.  There was much drinking that night, including a very interesting way to mix vodka and popping candy.  A drink that you can literally feel going down...

We got to stay at some hostel/hotel type affair. Most of us were crashed by 6am. By 6am however, it had been raining heavily for about 12 hours.  This does not bode well for Mighty Sounds...

Saturday – Mighty drive. Cottbus to Czech Republic:

This was not a holiday anymore.  This was touring. After replacing the stolen Insulin, we leave eastern Germany, and head for the southern Czech Republic.  The difference between Germany and Czech was instantly clear. You drive through a long tunnel to get from one to the other.  We left the German side, with its fairly flat landscape, pine trees lining the sides of the road, grey everywhere, drove through the tunnel, and into one of the most beautiful places I have seen.  Massive vistas awaited you at every corner, clouds rolling down off of the hills, churches dotted among the skyline amongst copses and along the edges of huge lakes. Simply stunning. It was a pretty long trek through Czech, stopping only to stretch the legs and fill the tank.  200 or so miles in and we are nearing our destination, Mighty Sounds festival. 

We arrive in the dark.  After finding someone who speaks English, we discover that yesterdays rain had come south, and the festival was a washout. It was still going on, but the going was hard work.  The guy at the gate refused to let our van on to the actual site, and invited us to go and see why.  Now, I have done Glasto a few times when it’s wet, and this was easily comparable to that.  Every type of mud you could want.  Runny, stoolwater mud, full on brown glue type mud, chocolate mousse type mud, freshly ploughed soil type mud. Mud.  Lots of mud.  We ended up parking at the entrance to the festival, on a bit of land that was not owned by the festival. We, and the 3 or 4 other vehicles parked there hope that this is cool.  We head off into the festival, and after catching a bit of Dub Inc., we hear some drum and bass on the wind.  This is exactly what we needed after the drive and the previous nights criminal activities, a bit of stress release, and 3 nearby bars, all selling Desperados.  I can’t speak for the rest of them, but after 3 or so hours of dancing hard to drum and bass (tricky in mud), I am done, and head off back to van for a kip. Again, it is nearly daybreak by the time I get to sleep.

Sunday – Mighty Sounds Festival, Czech Republic:

The outside car park where we set up now has about 20 vehicles in it, all full of muddy people who also were not allowed onto the site. Everyone and everything is now starting to get covered in mud. It was a lovely sunny day, but frankly it just made the mud slightly harder to walk about in. This day was what we had based our tour around.  We have to play well.  Thankfully, we do. We start off with only 5-10 people watching us, but by the end of our set, there are maybe 500 people having a skank.  That’s pretty good when you consider that the Aggrolites were playing just down the way.  There is a video on Youtube from fairly early on in the set, I think you can get the idea of the mud...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKXIktJcYHA

We even get an encore, which is very cool.  So, mission accomplished for that day, we have a party.

We hook up with the other UK bands, and Donagh, the guy who booked us for the show, and get hammered. We also hang about with the guy from the video who has the horses head on, and the guys he turned up with, a New Zealand band called BadTown, who are also parked up in the ad-libbed car park out the front. The Backyard Babies are a band that I had never heard of, they are a really good band to drink to, and New York Ska-Jazz Ensemble play an absolute blinder.  We are all pretty wasted by the end of the night, but maybe not as much as John. Halfway through NYSJE’s set, John vanishes.  Confused as to where he is, I ask Rob, and he tells me ‘He’s gone under the stage’.   And there he stays, under the main stage of a major festival during the headline act, for a good 15 minutes, appearing later without his glasses, that are never to be seen again.  More drum and bass follows, more dancing, more Desperados, more talking to people where you share no common language (fun), some of the boys try some legal highs and some homebrew spirits, a great combo, and before you know it, the sun is coming up again, and I venture off to bed, very drunk, and very happy.

Monday – Germany is a big place, isn’t it...:

We leave the campsite, and after going to Tesco and stocking up a few items, replacing shoes that have been ruined, we drive back toward Holland.  We don’t have a gig there, but feel that it is the best place for a rag-tag bunch like us to go.  It takes 13 hours to drive across Germany, and we arrive in Sittard, Holland, in the dark.  It could have been much worse though, that was the day there was a 259 car pile-up on the Autobahn.  We were not involved or held up because of that, and I don’t think that we caused it.  We have no choice but to spend the night in the van, in a car park.  We all feel a bit rough, exhausted, still covered in mud and a bit gutted that we did not get to Holland in time to get anything done.  Still, a good nights sleep, and all will be well.

Tuesday – Sittard, Netherlands:

Did not have a good sleep.  Try getting 9 fully grown men in a van with loads of equipment and get them all to be comfortable.  It’s very hard.  It’s now daylight, and the fact that we are a bunch of smelly hippies in a van in a car park in a small Dutch town becomes very obvious.  I feel like we are doing some sort of endurance test, who can stay in the van the longest.  I succumb first.  I get out the van, and as the competition is now over, everyone else is out of the van within a few minutes.  

Tommy knows Sittard from following the Slackers around Europe, and knows where he is going about this very pretty, very traditional small Dutch town.  The first stop on our mini tour of Sittard is Ernesto’s, a Mexican cantina on the main square.  I have heard of this place before, and its legendary reputation as ‘One of those places. When it goes off here, it really goes off’.  As we walk past, Ernest comes out, and greets Tommy with a hug.  We ask Ernest if he know of any local campsites to set up in for our few days off.  Ernest goes back into his place quickly, then brings us in for a coffee and a tequila, and invites us to stay at his house for a couple of nights, and more importantly, get to play a show at Ernestos’ the following night.  After the previous days/nights driving missions, that is exactly what we needed.  When we get to his house, and find it to be something out of the ‘Modern Housekeepers Guide’, we are absolutely elated. It feels like a holiday again.  It even has a swimming pool. Happy days...

After some breakfast, a shower and a trip to the local shops, we proceed to relax to the point of semi-conciousness.  That night, there is a classical/opera type orchestra playing in the local square, but frankly, I have my Falafel and chips and a few beers on the square in the evening, and I go to bed early.

Wednesday – Ernestos’, Sittard, Holland:

This is a pretty cool day on our tour, full of things that I didn’t expect to do.  First thing, Rob and I get to cook in a professional kitchen.  Ernests’ kitchen, to be precise.  If we cook breakfast, then Ernest will cook us tea.  That is the deal, and knowing of Ernests’ reputation for authentic Mexican food, I am happy to oblige.  12 fry-ups is not an easy thing to do at the best of times, but by 2pm we finally have a good cooked breakfast.

The second thing I didn’t expect to do on tour was a shotgun gig, especially at Ernestos’, with the reputation it has. We spend the afternoon sending out mails, sorting out flyers and generally walking about Sittard, making sure that everyone we see who looks like they might like ska knows about the show.

The food Ernest serves is amazing, and following a little chill/digestion time, we set up and play.  And then we play again.  We drink many many tequilas and tequila based drinks that night, and end up basically playing everything we know how to play. Twice over.  After a 2-and-a-half hour show, we are all knackered but elated, and after a few more drinks, we retire to the poolside to reflect on what a great couple of days it has been. Again, before you know it, the sun is coming up, and I decide to crash out.

Thursday – Bar Mondial, Antwerp, Belgium:

We all take our time to leave Ernest and Sittard, as it is a lovely place, and we have only a smallish drive to get to Belgium.  After the obligatory swapping of presents, flowers and tequila, we head off to Antwerp.  There is a slightly sombre mood to this drive, as it’s after this show that we have to drop Dave off at Antwerp Airport, and this signals the beginning of the end of the tour. 

Antwerp, in places, is a truly stunning city. It reminds me of Amsterdam with its olde-worlde style buildings, but everything seems a little bit posher, a little bit nicer.  Just down the road from us is what I presume is the Town Hall, and the biggest cathedral I have ever seen. The venue is very cool, and within a few hours of arrival we are set for the night, all fed and watered very well. Maybe watered a little too well.  There was a fridge literally full of beers, and the tequila we had received that morning was polished off within a matter of minutes.  I think I can speak for all of us when I say we got proper wasted after the show. The show itself was pretty good, as quite often happens at shows, the crowd start off a little reserved, but by the end, we had a room full of happy dancing people, which is all you can ask for.  It was all about the after-show drinking though I’m afraid.  Belgium is famous for its beer for good reason.  Human Buckaroo with a fellow band mate. I’ll leave it at that...

Friday – KuRampe, Krefeld, Germany:

First off, we have to get Dave to the airport for his flight home.  Somehow, we all get up and he is duly delivered with plenty of time.  I think Tommy may have still been over the limit from the night before.  I’m pretty sure we all were.  We say our goodbyes, and head back east, to western Germany this time, to Krefeld.  The last time we met Vogel, it was under slightly more strained circumstances, with the van break-in, and turning up pretty late to the venue.  This time, I wanted to make a better impression.  We arrive a good half hour before anyone else is at the KuRampe.  The KuRampe, infact the whole of the Krefeld set-up, is a little strange to me.  The town has a large market, permanently set-up in the centre of town.   It reminded me somewhat of an industrial estate in the UK.  The main difference is that in this industrial estate, there are greengrocers, barbers, fishmongers, and about 4 bars, including the KuRampe. 

We were told that the KuRampe traditionally is a hard venue to do well at, especially with ska and reggae.  The band names on the flyers outside all seem to be for doom metal, thrash metal bands or something equally as angry.  The show on the other hand, could not have been more different. The place was packed out, and it went down really well.  This was a great show to end our European tour with.  We had to pack up pretty sharpish however, as the Eurotunnel train was booked and could not be changed.

We drove.  And drove.  And then drove some more. The roads were good to us, and we crossed 3 borders and drove the 250 or so miles without a hitch.  We even ended up getting on an earlier crossing.  However, by the time we had got to France, I think we were all a little sad that this was the end of our first trek outside of the UK.  I am sure that it will not be our last.

Thanks:

Vogel @ Flying Ska, Donagh @ Bomber Music, Mighty Sounds Festival staff, Peter & Klaas @ Bar Mondial, the Bar staff of Bebel Bar, the guys at Nastys, Jeroen @ Winston, Ernest & Laura, the sound guy at KuRampe (sorry i forgot your name), Open Season, Loony Tones, BadTown, The Skints, anyone who knows that they were involved but I have forgotten, and anyone who saw us play.  Much love. We will see you again soon I hope.

And thanks to anyone who bothered to read all of this.

Scott

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