Same Old Newcastle (Day 11)
By Ginger | September 29, 2009
Family present? Tick.
Friends all lined up to see you stand or fall? Tick.
Audience about to stand in almost respectful silence? Tick.
Funny thing about playing Newcastle is that it still feels like you’re paying your dues.
Songs are met, initially, with a stillness of quiet approval before a loud cheer of authentication as each song ends. It is, at once, both off-putting and comforting. Nowhere is like Newcastle, and that’s just as it should be.
For me Newcastle is my own microcosmic version of the UK, and in this version crime is met with indifference by authorities almost annoyed by its inconvenience. It’s hard to get jail time in Newcastle. My oldest friend, Panda, meets me during the day for a catch up. He looks very normal. It’s only recently that he’s gotten the use of his right eye back after a severe beating from three teenage strangers who jumped him from behind, knocked him unconscious and proceeded to stamp on his head as he lay. Doctors have reconstructed his eye socket and quite a lot of his face, his eyeball has been taken out twice for surgery and right now only his sense of positivity is getting him through the day. It’s a miracle he’s walking. Or even alive.
The criminals were caught and arrested (having beaten someone up on CCTV only minutes before attacking Panda) and let off with two cautions and one easy sentence. He will be out after a year or two with good behaviour.
They’d have had to kill him to get a more fitting punishment.
This is my England.
More and more people I know are being attacked, or telling stories of people attacked, by random thugs born of a society that provides no release of boredom and a government that offers no deterrent.
When the UK issues the ‘three strikes and out’ law (three offences and you’re in jail, buddy) then I’ll bring my family back here to live.
The band played amazingly well. The audience eventually thawed and lost their cool. It was great to see friends and family again. The bus eventually pulled away to the sound of drunken people arguing by the big market. No doubt someone will end up a bloody mess in A&E somewhere and the public will glibly pay for the doctors’ bills with their monthly taxes. Bills that will continue to mount.
If these people are going to cost us money then wouldn’t one taxable expenditure of a jail sentence for repeat violent offenders be a far cheaper and much safer option?
Don’t we get a say?
Gx
Leeds And Glasgow (Day 9 & 10)
By Ginger | September 28, 2009
Wow, what a couple of days. Leeds Cockpit was, quite possibly, the best show of the tour. The audience were incredible and the band played a stormer. The resulting high followed everyone back to the bus where we proceeded to party like we were the Rolling Stones or something.
Come morning I woke up with the kind of hangover that more resembles still being drunk.
Hot Steve met me on the stairs armed with with an ice cold bottle of Magners he was enjoying. One sip made me want one myself, but on closer inspection the closest thing to cider in the fridge was champagne, presented to me by No Americana a few days ago. I don’t usually drink the stuff but one glass went down so well that it was followed by first another, and soon the whole bottle was gone. It’s not even midday and I was drunk beyond belief.
No problem, I’ll sleep it off.
On being awoke, around 7pm I realised that I was still drunk. So drunk, in fact, that I accepted the offer of a few drags of a spliff. I’m no smoker and have an incredibly low tolerance to the stuff. Already disorientated and spinning the pot hit me like a well aimed upper cut.
Once I eventually found the dressing room I realised that my bag was back on the bus, so, on leaving by the side entrance I heard the door slam shut behind me. Banging on the door proved useless due to the level of volume inside the venue.
It is now 8:25 and I’m due onstage in five minutes.
The phone, typically, died as I continued leaving messages on everyone’s answer phones due to the zero reception within the venue.
Now I’m stoned, drunk, confused, and my paranoia is growing due to the amount of Wildhearts fans outside having a cigarette.
Fuck it, I’m just going to have to slope in undercover of the fans. I manage to squeeze myself into the packed Garage where a security guard recognises me and allows me access to the dressing room.
Fortunately we are running late, gear problems forcing a late start to the set. Just enough time to get my stage clothes on.
It takes me a full song to realise that I’m not wearing an ear plug and the band are so deafeningly loud that I can’t pitch. I eventually righted myself and began the longest gig of my life.
I will never play a show stoned again in my life. It was the most terrifying thing imaginable. What really struck me, through the hazy paranoia, was how fucking good this band are. How dynamic Ritch plays the drums. How amazing our sound man is. How great our crew is. And how incredible our audience is.
Glasgow, thank God it was to you that I played the scariest show I’ve ever played. You made me feel like I was home. You calmed me down and allowed me to, occasionally, enjoy the thrilling spectacle of a rammed Glasgow show with the best band I could possibly experience it with.
Gx
Stoke Memoirs And 3D Spex (Day 8)
By Ginger | September 26, 2009
Who knows why some gigs you absolutely love and some you just can’t get into?
The band all loved the show in Stoke, the audience were amazing, the hecklers heckled in good spirits (albeit during an announcement that our friend Tim Smith has severe health problems- I guess bad manners don’t wait for appropriate moments to spring forth, huh? Nice one mate. Your girlfriend will be so proud, if you ever get one, ha ha), the guys in the band all played like a well oiled machine and the songs flowed like easy conversation. Me? I just couldn’t get into it. By the end of the second set the onstage sound had reached such muddied proportions that I could feel myself shouting to hear my vocals, so in an attempt to keep my voice for tomorrow’s show (and the rest of the tour) I let the crowd sing the final song 29 x The Pain. It was a curious moment with Hot Steve handing the microphone to seemingly everyone in the audience that doesn’t know the lyrics. Still, it has to be said that in another venue an SM57 would have been stripped from its cable and never seen again. A fine testament to the sheer decency of the Stoke crowd.
And while on the subject of hecklers and people not realising that we were going to be playing the new album in its entirety, I would like to make certain that my intentions in highlighting the heckling was not to incite further violence or have anyone threaten to ‘sort them out’. I don’t want to see ANY violence at our shows, okay?
I understand that some people will feel short changed by the decision to play the album and this is something I’d like to clarify. This decision was made during a fraught time where we couldn’t make our minds up as to what to play: old, new, rare, popular, etc etc etc. We put the vote to the fans on the forum and you unanimously voted for us to play the album. We take your responses very seriously indeed, and so we made a last minute decision to honour the popular voice, and deal with the disapproval of the minority, in this case. We can only offer, as consolation for anyone who might be disappointed with the decision, the fact that we have a band playing at the very top of their game (playing some songs that will never be played live again), one of the worlds very best sound-men, an awesome bill and a very competitive ticket price.
It looks like we will continue to support our albums by playing them in their entirety, in the future, if we are to continue to make albums. There are tons of bands just trotting out the best of set and releasing no new music, this is fine and supporting this is also great, but that isn’t The Wildhearts. Not at all. We want to the future to be an exciting place with musical innovation as well as a nod to the past, hence the two sets, both of approx equal length.
I hope you will continue to join us on our musical journey, and for anyone who only wants to see the ‘best of’ set I hope you have enjoyed the past 15/20 years and leave with fond memories. It’s been a great ride, hasn’t it?
After the show we were invited to a private screening of Final Destination 3D, which the band and crew later decided against, favouring, instead, another night drinking on the bus. Doing the same thing every night drives me a little stir crazy so Gav and I decided to round up some friends and make the screening anyway. Walking into a huge cinema that is completely empty is a thrill that no-one should pass up if ever given the chance. We selected our seats and watched as the 3D format threw chisels at us, as well as various body parts, in spectacular fashion. A great bit of gory fun with some very inventive kills, all sadly marred by the worst ending since The Happening.
Still, the gorgeous Krista Allen appeared in the movie, which was a bit of a treat.
Back on the bus we watched Step Brothers together and took ill laughing so hard at the drum kit/bollock interface scene.
Driving through Stoke as the clubs had long closed yet the scattered, drunken debris still roamed the street looking for a final fight or a fuck, but will probably settle for a kebab, I couldn’t feel more alien.
It’s a feeling I get every now and again and one that gives me great comfort.
Sometimes I just really feel different than everyone else.
Gx
Birmingham, My Birmingham (Day 7)
By Ginger | September 25, 2009
We’ve always enjoyed good times in the Midlands and tonight was no exception.
Apparently there’s some kind of divide between Wolverhampton and Birmingham that forbids people from the former going to see bands playing the latter. We have sold precisely half the amount of tickets that we usually sell when we play Wolves Civic, adding weight to this theory. Still, come showtime the modest little room in the O2 Academy is literally jam packed.
The monitors on this tiny stage are so powerful that one would need to stand about 4 or 5 feet away from it to actually hear it. There is no 4 or 5 feet ‘back’ on this tiny stage, therefore no one can hear a thing onstage.
The show was the hottest gig I’ve played in a very long time. No air onstage made the experience hellish, especially for me and Ritch. Come You Took The Sunshine From New York I came so close to blacking out that I failed to notice singing the first verse in an entirely different key. No monitors and no oxygen will do that to a person.
Anyway, if the crowd noticed (which I’m sure they did) they quickly forgave me and proceeded to supply severely voluminous vocal support throughout. Their stamina was inspirational and kept the band motivated to keep rocking when there was no life left in us at all.
At one point in the final song I moved to CJ’s side of the stage in order to stop myself slipping on the swimming pool of my sweat in the middle of the stage. His side? Dry as a bone. That guy is way too cool.
All in all, possibly the best show of the tour. At least on a par with Nottingham.
Later we all ate at the Koh-i-Noor, a superb Indian restaurant that plays 80’s rock ballads at the behest of their manager. You won’t find a more surreal soundtrack to an extra spicy King Prawn Ceylon. It’s directly opposite the front of the venue. Check it out next time you’re at a gig.
Birmingham, we love you. Still and always.
Gx
Hallelujah! (Day Off)
By Ritch | September 24, 2009
Hallelujah! 5 days rehearsing and six gigs straight and I’m well and truly ready for a day off. Just a couple of hours on the train and I’m back home in the company of my amazing kids and my beautiful wife. The day is over far too soon and before I know it it’s stupid o’clock in the morning and I’m being dragged from my blissful slumber, not by the over enthusiastic driving of our good man Russ, or the smell coming from Dunk’s bunk. It’s my wife alerting me that both kids are awake, and we need all hands on deck. So half asleep and on autopilot I tend to my fatherly duties then get straight back into bed just in time to have woken up enough to not be able to get back to sleep! And so it bloody begins! I wonder what’s going to be on the menu of tonight’s little midnight thinkathon? But without even realizing I’m already up to the second verse of Woman In Chains by Tears for Fears. Well! On any night up until this week I would have immediately questioned why the uncomforting sounds of the 80’s electro pop/rock duo had found its way into the bleak twilight wilderness of my sleepy little mind. But tonight there happens to be a perfect explanation for it. Our sound engineer, Shirt, when turning up at a new venue has an early afternoon ritual that involves playing a song that he is sonically very familiar with, at full volume through the PA system, firstly in order to see how the PA system sounds and performs, and secondly to tune/eq the PA system in a way which would most benefit the evening’s performance. I have to admit it’s a very professional approach. But unfortunately, the fact that it’s being played at full volume means that anyone within the building, that happens to be subjected to said ritual on a daily basis is, at some point in the not too distant bloody future, going to find themselves, whether they like it or not, singing said bloody song. But no! I’m not going to fight it. I need to sleep. It’s a dreamy little number and in fact, if I let it run its course, chances are I’ll just be dropping off nicely as it gets to the ‘so free her’ bit towards the end. But of course, one song isn’t adequate enough to test a PA system is it! Crudely halfway through, Woman In Chains explodes into Staring At The Rude Bois by The Gallows. Which is hardly conducive to the gentle fade into lullaby lala land I was hoping for! So now I’m wide awake and wondering why is it that the brain would choose to go with the version of Woman In Chains that abruptly edits into The Gallows, rather than the full unedited, how it was meant to be version. You know, with the so free her bit that I’m so keen to get to. Well it’s probably for the same reason that whenever Rat Trap pops into my head, instead of completing the song, I reach the line where my old 7” vinyl single had a scratch, (that same single that I last played probably getting on for 30 years ago) and it goes exactly like that – work all the hours god gave me to get myself a little get myself a little get myself a little get myself a little get myself a little etc. Why does that do that? Which then leads me thinking about the time in America with GTA when I was on driving duty and just kept on going until we reached our destination, about 10 hours I drove for that night, through mountains, forests, snow storms, hail, ice, fog. You name it we drove through it. Eventually we arrived at our destination, a shitty little motel in bumblefuck nowhere. I climb out of the van and straight into bed. I happen to be room sharing with Jay our singer on this particular night. I lay there for a short time trying to get to sleep then ask Jay, “How the fuck am I gonna get to sleep? I’m completely fucking wired from the journey, all the booze is gone and everywhere is shut” Jay replies, “This may help” and then starts singing at the top of his voice: “Got myself a cryin’ talkin’ slpeepin’ walkin’ living doll.“ And my next few hours were spent looping that song round and round and round and… free her, so free her so free her. Oh excellent! Closure! The end of the song. Now all I need to do is avoid all musical mentalmorphosis, stick with the outro and just let it drift on and on and on and on and on… and… on… and…… on…… and……… on……… and Ariston. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! Needless to say I had a shit night’s sleep and am now hoping to get through the Birmingham show without the aid of anything other than pure adrenalin.
Hmmm! I wonder if Ginger has any of that crystal meth left from Exeter?
For Those With London VIP Tickets
By Ean | September 23, 2009
We have information regarding the VIP pass for the soundcheck at Shepherd’s Bush.
Please note that you will be able to collect your VIP passes at the venue Box Office and gain access to the venue from 15:00 on the day of the event.
You will be allowed entry into the level one bar until the sound check, at which point you will be allowed entry to the level one balcony to watch the sound check.
If you require any further assistance, please contact Ticketweb by clicking on the help link at: www.ticketweb.co.uk
Etiquette Exeter Style (Day 6)
By Ginger | September 23, 2009
After a wonderful walk around Exeter we remarked how chilled out this place is and how few arseholes there seems to be in Exeter.
Sure enough, come showtime, they all crawled from beneath their rocks to attend our gig.
Don’t get me wrong, there were a LOT of awesome people there too, presumably, also, having their evening ruined by meat heads.
What do I have to do to get rid of these people from our audience? Answers in the comment section below, please.
What kind of person pays to attend a show only to talk over the singer every time he tries to introduce a song? I will never live long enough to understand this logic. I mean, fair play if you have something funny or constructive to shout but these people aren’t even hecklers in the classic sense of the word. These are folk who consider any crap whatsoever to enter their brain to be of cultural importance. And will rudely cut off a public speaker in order to address their point of view. Manners, it has to be said, have not been taught to some people, unfortunate, then, that the least mannered appear to be the loudest mouthed.
They spoil your evening, they spoil ours and no-one wants them around. They wouldn’t be missed if they disappeared. So please, if you know anyone who enjoys shouting random insults when a hard working band are trying to introduce the next song they’ve spent ages rehearsing, if you know anyone who enjoys shouting over the singer because they get so little attention in their normal, dull lives, could you please ask them nicely to stop coming to our shows? We don’t want their money and we definitely don’t want their company.
I’m so sorry for the idiots of Exeter spoiling what should have been an amazing, warm, funny, informative night. We will play places on this tour, full of people who want to listen to us, and this desire goes so deep that they will actually shut their mouths at the appropriate times in which to do so. Unfortunately you have had your one evening spoiled slightly.
Having said that the band played a faultless set and Ritch split two snare heads due to excessive battering. No one else on this tour got that, so all was not lost.
Exeter, lovely place. Not as keen to play there again, though, as I am to come back for a visit.
Day off today. Get to see my family and chill out for an entire 24 hours. Tomorrow we play Birmingham. I love playing Birmingham. Bring it on.
Gx
The Bunk Back Blues (Day 6)
By Scott | September 22, 2009
Well, it’s day 6 and the last day before the first day off.
The tour has been going fucking amazing, but ohhh am I looking forward to getting off the bus tomorrow and spending the day hidden in my hotel room. The bus is starting to smell like a bouquet of sweaty gig clothes and stale booze so it will be nice to air it out a bit and start all over again. Not to mention, though my bunk is comfortable as hell, flopping around on stage puts a good hurting on the old back and a proper bed sounds like heaven. That being said, I’m really looking forward to tonight’s show seeing as though they’ve all been fucking great. Anyway, off to sound check.
Tattoo Neck
Portsmouth Is Love (Day 5)
By Ginger | September 22, 2009
Who’d have thunk it? The best show of the tour, so far, I think, took place in Portsmouth, last night.
The audience were welcoming, warm and responsive, the band played a faultless set, the Black Spiders rocked big time (and later joined us on the bus for drinks) and me ‘n Gav decided to keep growing our beards until the end of the tour. They’re itching like hell but a deal is a deal.
After walking around Portsmouth, or Pompey or Southsea or whatever else they call this place, checking out the awesome shops of Albert Road it’s a treat to see such a myriad of eye watering expenditure dens peppering the street. Culturally valid accessory shops rub shoulders with semi-antique bric-a-brac stores in a bid to tempt visiting consumers into coughing up readies for essential items that they will ultimately lose interest in on leaving Portsmouth.
We have the smallest and most stifling dressing room in the western world, so in an attempt to rid myself of the claustrophobia based migraine steadily gnawing at my sense of well being I go and eat a fish by the seaside, approx 1km away. There’s nothing quite like a walk along an English beach to fill a person with equal feelings of happiness and sadness. I mean any walk along the sea can make a fellow feel a little insignificant, but something about the English seaside makes me think of the people on the other side of the water, baking in the sunshine, bronzed, naked and not think of the people on the other side of the water wrapped in multi layered protection to ward off the freezing gales of the North sea.
Anyway, the fish was lovely and the mushy peas burnt the living fuck out of the inside of my mouth.
All in all a lovely day. Lovely place. I love Portsmouth, and I didn’t even know it.
Gx
Pictures From The Fifth Day
By Ginger | September 21, 2009
Our monitor man for this evening, Deano.