Tour 2018 - Leicester (Day 7)

Wussy at The Musician in Leicester - Photo by Blue Straggler

SoTD: Tunnock’s Milk Chocolate Tea Cakes - Oh my God, I would kill kittens for one. I’d horde them with a vehemence that would make Mammon blush. Like a Keebler Pinwheel in the States but better in every way. Firstly, instead of marshmallow on top of the cookie it’s Italian meringue. And there’s actual non-waxy chocolate covering it. Or as we like to say in the van, enrobing it. Given to us by a fan at the Brighton show I did not have a chance to thank them. So a big thanks to you!!

Britishism: Trimming Both Sides of the Hedge - Shaun told me what it means but I feel you’ll have more fun making up your own!

The morning in Cardiff I went for a walk along a stream, and through a bridge under the motorway that looked just like the one in "Les Revenants" where Serge ate people’s livers. I noticed that everything in this part of Wales was either rusting or growing moss. It was of course raining so I decided to compare annual rainfalls. Mawsynram in India has the most with 11, 871 mm. In Britain, Swansea gets the most rain with 1,360.8 mm. Cardiff comes in 5th with 980.8 mm. For comparison, in the United States, Seattle gets 965 mm per year. So wetter than a group of spinsters at a Ewan McGregor convention.

Before leaving Wales Shaun took us to the transporter bridge in Newport. It was a little more downtrodden than the other one but still a delight. We have now ridden two out of the three transporter bridges in the UK. There are only eight of these still working throughout the world.

We were playing the Musician and were looking forward to it. It’s got to be one of the best small venues in the country. It’s a roomy stage, has an amazing sound person, good sightlines, awesome staff, and a weird little green room tucked behind the stage. It’s located in a grey corner of the city and I had learned last time not to judge the whole city by this part. Walking around looking for dinner I couldn’t help but feel like things in Leicester are maybe not going as well as when we were here last. There were few people out and about and more beggars. I hope I’m wrong and it was just gray mid-week evening. And please be assured I’m not slagging Leicester. We’ve had two of our best shows there and goodness are the fans lovely. We played our best show of the tour so far. When I say best show, I’m talking about how well we played, not the crowd reaction or how much fun we had. Some nights the parts all come together and we become a singular thing. Most nights we get close. Some nights we play like the empathy booth at an NRA convention. i.e. depressed and depressing. It’s a funny thing, living out of your comfort zone, spending way too much time in very close proximity with the same group of people and hoping that sleep deprivation, screwed up dietary schedules, barely contained resentments, and fussy equipment all slip away for an hour and a half of shared catharsis and noisy joy. It does often enough to keep us hoping and trying though.

The last two nights came together in a delightful, sustaining way. Thanks!!

Tomorrow is London.

Tour 2016 - Leicester (Day 8)

Salty Snack of the Day: Jacobs Mini Cheddars: Like cheesy Ritz crackers. A somewhat sophisticated Cheez-It. I want to eat these forever. The BBQ ones are crap.

 Britishisms Heard Uttered: SPAM! When the conversation turned to male pattern baldness, as it does, Olie said his hair was beginning to recede a bit. Then he patted his forehead and said, “I’ve always been a bit spammy though.” “Spammy?” “Well yes, when we were kids we would smack each other on the forehead and yell SPAM!”

 Birds: Ring-Necked Parakeet

We woke up, drove, checked into our hotel, Joe and I had a half pint in a lovely pub called the Red Cow, (with a really cool ‘70’s thatch roof) and drove into town.

The night previous our day’s destination had won the Premier League in football, which is the biggest deal thing you can win around here. They are a club that started in 1884 for Pete’s sake. They haven’t won a title in something like 120 years I heard someone say, but honestly can’t make heads or tails of their history. They had started the season as 5,000 to 1 against winning it all so at least a few dreamers made some money. While we played our last night at the Windmill, the City of Leicester was losing its mind in a chanting, beery, party in the streets. It would have been a bad night for a show but probably amazing to witness. By the time we arrived the city had settled into a bleery, hungover, haze.

We had been told by more than one person the Leicester can be a bit grim. And the first impression upon landing at our venue for the evening, which is located in an isolated industrial corner of the city, with the low hanging grey clouds sapping the color from the air, a concentration of Brutalist* architecture surrounding us, well I guess it could lend credence to this view. Shortly after arrival, with the club needing more time clean after the celebrations, we worked our way to the city center, which did feel little schizophrenic with the mish-mash of architectural styles. However, there were immense pedestrian walkways going off in every direction and an obviously vibrant modern city humming all around us. I could find no Leicester City swag to commemorate the historic victory as of course it was all bought up. The longer I spent in the city the more it all started to feel cohesive. I know that it is ultimately ridiculous to say anything of any depth with these glancing visits. It’s presumptuous to assume I can bring any insight to a place where we people actually invest themselves, their time, their futures. Take these missives for what they are: geographically limited impressions influenced by the need to find something to eat. Anyway, I noticed that Leicester seemed to be a very worldly city and when I looked up its stats I saw that it had experienced several significant waves of immigration. I’m always pleased when I find myself in a place where there is a polyglot of voices and a feeling of peaceful cohabitation.

The club was called the Musician and it was easily the Cadillac of venues on this tour. Beautiful room, excellent stage and sound system, and a veteran soundman named Malcom who continually chuckled as if life was a constant source of bemusement. The opening bands were flat out wonderful. (Luna Rosa and Echolocation) I’ve had this feeling that perhaps the UK still loves guitar rocknroll in a way that the States does not at the moment. I don’t know if I’m in a bubble and the general population has moved on from the electric guitar here as well, but the bands we keep hearing seem to be evolving the form in a way that has been reviving to hear. For instance the band Echolocation could have fit in any era from post-punk to obviously now. There was an angularity and artiness that was amazing to hear people still doing. Chuck compared them to the Fall, which seems pointlessly vague, but he can’t always be brilliant. I was kind of thinking maybe Pere Ubu with trumpet and a lighter touch. I mean how much fun is it to talk about bands like that? Anyway, after a small onstage bout of insecurity worrying that the reserve of the crowd indicated apathy, or even worse it’s second cousin antipathy, we recovered ourselves and played well. We were just being stupid as once again we were blessed with a generous and attentive audience.

Tomorrow is Darby.

*I’m no architecture expert. Feel free to correct me if I’ve got it wrong.