Aberdeen Cowboys Go America!

The Needles at South By South West,

Austin, Texas 2007

Monday 12/03/07

8am Glasgow time.

"Gondinendal Airloynes worgs hard do bring gyou THEE mozt BROFESSIONAL

Service in thee air!" –The man on the screen reassured us.

 Why should he feel the need to say that? Were most other airlines amateur or voluntary? Or maybe he thought that if he emphasised the professionalism of his company nobody would think to check and he could get away with using delinquent children to fly his planes for free. I knew his game.

We were still on the ground but I was already getting a handle on this US paranoia thing. Or maybe it was still UK cynicism.

 The guy sitting next to us got paid by the BBC to stand outside the White House and see what Bush gets up to. Cool job, seemed like a nice chap. I thought about voicing my concerns to him but he probably had enough to worry about. Or was he in on it as well?

 I was also concerned about time. Time is a confusing enough business for us at the best of times, so when hours get misplaced here and moments shunted around there The Needles tend to take drugs and fall asleep. I didn't though. I read a book about pirates and saw the Empire State Building in real life.

 I don't know what Abraham Lincoln was thinkin' but I think he'd agree that drugs are for mugs.

 COP 1 {Joe Pesci}: " I DO NOT HAVE A FUCKIN' IDEA WHAT DA FUCK YOU JUST SAID TO ME?!"

COPS 2,3,5 & 9 {The Sopranos}: "Mwa-ha-ha-ha-check it out man-a-ha-ha-fuckin' assholes-ha-ha..etc"

 1pm Newark time and we had just asked New Jersey's finest, in our best neutral European English the way to the nearest café or restaurant. This was to be the first of many communication problems, not to mention inadvertent stumblings onto of movie scenes we were never intended to be in.

"Cut! Who let these mumblin' fucks on set?!"

 We eventually found a café in Newark and as we ate received a text from a well-travelled friend back home. "You may be about to get killed" it read. Johnny Wolfe and I believed him completely. Paul Needles reckoned it wasn't as bad as Ibrox and continued to take photographs of gangsters who amused him.

 Whether we made it onto the next plane alive or not we enjoyed our food. Texas was our destination so either way these were probably the last vegetables our bodies would ever digest properly.

 Bye for now New Jersey, we're pulling out of here to win.

 Waiting for luggage in Houston {don't mention the war!}an airport worker offered to help transport our equipment to the hire car.

"Y'all a baynd?"

I figured "Mm hm" and a nod was the most international affirmative.

 "Whatch y'all call yo selves?"

After a few goes which left her increasingly confused I pointed to my guitar case.

"The Needles! Well I'll be the threayd!"

This, and when she screamed "Y'all stingy! Y'all gat mo' money! BULL-SHIYT!" seemed to me incredibly charming, although I was extremely sleep deprived by this stage in the day.

 We arrived in Austin about 2am Texas time, which would be 8am at home, the time our flight had left the previous morning. Not sure where Tulsa is in relation to Texas but it felt like there was a song in there somewhere.

Our host Erin greeted us with cowboy hats, sheriff's badges and various other Texan paraphernalia. She was to be a sort of spirit guide between our humdrum Scottish world of fish suppers, football coupons, misunderstood American things, Oor Wullie etc and the hyper-real 5D cinemascape we saw before us. She did an incredible job.

 Paul sneezed and I wheezed, she had a very fluffy dog and two very fluffy cats. I always trust people with cats and dogs though, it suggests they're not too partisan.

Tuesday 13/03/07

 This was the day before the festival and torrential, electrical, tropical storms threatened to put the whole event in jeopardy. This would have meant a largely pointless and expensive trip for the many thousands of musicians and music fans travelling from around the globe as well as a small to medium scale catastrophe for the local economy. That said it was a hell of a show. Thunder louder than AC/DC and Metallica at war, rain falling in glass sheets, and lightening that turned the whole sky brilliant white.

 That night we played a show {we played "shows" over here, not gigs. We also went to the "restroom" but I won't go into that now} at a roadside diner. There was a sign on stage saying "no cover songs" but we'd not travelled 5000 odd miles not to play "Everyday" and "Blue Bayou" in a roadside diner. Maybe it was just me but I'm sure the storm outside got wilder as we were playing those songs. Orbison and Holly were watching. I don't know if they approved but they were definitely watching.