Barflies Forever

We were offered a tour of all the UK’s Barfly venues for May 2006 with all that such a thing would entail- bad guarantees, bad load-ins, bad dressing rooms, bad parking, terrible toilets, crap little stages- and we took it anyway because when all’s said and done we love showbusiness, there’s no business like it. Billy sold it to me a bit saying it would be a little exclusive set of intimate shows between albums to keep momentum up, tide us over, keep the fans interested… etc. etc. A valiant idea, another failure in the making but a well intentioned one again.

This was the first set of live commitments we had in the diary after parting company with hapless plonker Stu, who had also somehow made us part company with the rest of our cash reserves. We had absolutely nothing, we figured we’d make enough at London and Manchester and maybe get past the guarantees on a few others so we thought it’d just about work. Rather than sleep on a tour bus or in (God forbid) hotel rooms, we decided we’d all just sleep on carelessly demarcated zones of Tom Knott’s floor in Levenshulme, driving back there after basically every gig. Rather than get a splitter from one of the many professional touring companies in Manchester we decided to save money by putting the gear in a clapped out heap of shit from Practical Van Hire of Accrington and a minibus from another slightly more upmarket franchise of Practical Van Hire in Manchester. We had Tom Knott’s housemate Progressive Gaz driving the minibus whilst our new best pal Bison drove the gear in the crumbling Accrington turd chariot. The drives that the two of them performed during this week long odyssey were utterly inhumane, you’d have never persuaded a professional to do any of it.

We couldn’t afford a sound engineer either, we didn’t have the cash spare. Speth had only recently given birth to her daughter Anastasia so I didn’t feel too bad about her sitting this one out and having some maternity leave. She did bollock me later though and tell me to never leave her out on account of money, I never again did and both of them would join us on tour the year after. For this one though Rob Challice suggested that as she was opening the shows I should ask Dawn Landes if she’d help us out. I wasn’t sure how much live work she’d done as an engineer but I knew she had pretty high end experience as a studio engineer in New York. I asked her and she said yes, the paltry amount I offered her supplemented the paltry amount she was getting for a support fee, plus she’d get to sit in the Practical Van Hire minibus AND sleep on her very own patch of Tom Knott’s floor. Whilst I’d doubled her money and taken away the problems of transport and accommodation, Dawn was on a pretty inhumane deal too- she had to travel with us, arrive at the venue, mic up our gear and sound check us, sound check herself, do her own show, do our show and then attempt to sell a bit of merch at the end of the night. She never complained and did the whole tour without losing her cool in the slightest although I did read an interview with her a couple of years later where she mentioned the tour and said it wasn’t something she’d be doing again.

The other support was Midlake, they were an American band, you probably know them because withing a couple of months they went from being our support band to being MIDLAKE! Billy kind of warned us, “watch out, they think they’re a big deal, there’s a buzz, they’re going to think it’s their tour…” It was all true in a way too, I can remember them turning up at the first gig in Cardiff with these three massive flightcased keyboard stations and thinking “where the fuck are they putting those?” Richard was trying to be friendly and helpful and approached their drummer McKenzie offering him that he could use his drums, that way they wouldn’t need to swap over between sets. McKenzie looked at Richard’s drums and said they were too small, he wanted to play his own kit, he wanted Richard to set up, sound check, remove his kit for Midlake to go on and then re-setup for the Earlies gig. Billy told me we needed to put them in their place, Richard needed to dig his heels in, they were the support, we were the headliners. Instead of talking to Midlake about anything I just phoned our agent Harry up, got through to his voicemail and left him a 13 minute tirade of abuse as I walked laps around the Cardiff venue. Asking what kind of jackass puts two bands with this much fucking equipment in venues of this fucking size. Telling him he was shit at his job. Calling him “a fucking fool.” Calling him “a cunt.”

I felt better after that anyway, sometimes you just need to swear into a phone. The first gig went pretty well in Cardiff, we drove back to Manchester all slept at Tom’s and then drove to Liverpool. I can remember that within two gigs McKenzie turned out to be a great guy, he listened to Richard drumming on the first gig, said it sounded great and that he’d be happy to use his drums. Mckenzie and me started playing with Dawn for her set, Nathan did too actually. Why was Nathan there you ask? He’ll have been doing the merch or something, he was always on the tours somehow or other. Dawn’s gig started sounding like great fun, Midlake sounded amazing obviously. The Earlies were blowing people’s minds with the first live outings of tracks from the Enemy Chorus, we thought it’d be out in a matter of months so why not? It all sounded incredible, within a few days we were all happy and having a great time. I had a missed call from Harry the agent, he left me a voicemail tentatively responding to mine, “Hi Christian, just got your er…message….er… just checking everything’s going okay on the tour…er…”

They weren’t full venues, they were fine but to say this was us just casually dropping down a level to do a few intimate shows we were already showing signs of decline. Glasgow, York and Birmingham all rolled by with underwhelming attendances. The drivers were completely knackered, getting back to Manchester at 3 or 4 in the morning and then setting off at 9 or 10 to go to the next show was starting to take its toll. You can only really do this stuff to people in their 20s, I was 29 and two thirds. I think Progressive Gaz was about 34 so it was draining him. There was a jolly bit of respite after the Birmingham gig, Bison organised for us to go and stay with his Mum who he simply introduced to us as Mother Bison. She’d laid out sleeping bags and duvets for around twenty people and cooked a banquet of food for us. We headed down to the London gig with a much shorter journey and as rejuvenated as we’d been throughout the trip. We thought we were absolutely amazing, I’d still say we were but I can remember the sour taste of Nick Worthington, the boss of 679, coming down to watch. He told Billy “I’m not seeing anything different-they’re just the same.” That was the beginning of him wanting shut of us. He was right too, we were just the same. We’re just the same now.

At the last gig in Manchester we totally stitched ourselves up by inviting the High Dials to join the bill as they were over on tour. All the soundchecks overran, all the sets then overran. Midlake arrived a bit late and ended up only being able to play for twenty minutes. Our set was chaos but we got Rishi up playing sitar on Morning Wonder. I remember going to get paid at the end of the night and there was a man in front of me at the promoters office complaining that he’d bought a ticket specifically to watch Midlake and only got to see four songs. He didn’t cast a glance my way, didn’t give a shit who the Earlies were. The tides were shifting and it was all encapsulated in one angry punter.

Somehow we all ended up back at the Bridge in Burnley, it seems unlikely that it was that same night but I’m sure it was. Simon and Emma kept the place open till four or five in the morning and we drank loads and wrestled on the floor. Emma sent me this photo of us all behind the bar from that night, it’s half two in the morning and Maz has shown up. We’re surrounded by St. George’s crosses but then this was 2006 and that didn’t mean anything. Nobody was Brexit or Remain, nobody was Reform or not Reform. It was just a few days after the Mayday bank holiday and our national flag was up in the pub where we spent all our free time. Everybody was looking forward to a beautiful summer and the World Cup finals. God I miss that old, uncomplicated, sunshine kissed England.

The day after Bison and me took the piece of shit van back to Practical Van Hire of Accrington. The back doors had stopped opening so we were loading in and out through the side. The fuel gauge had stopped working so Bison had been putting petrol in based on gut feelings. The radio had stopped working so he'd been driving in long hellish solitude. We were expecting some kind of repercussions but the guy laughed and said “I think I best retire this one.”

Elliott Smith and the Daily Grind

I saw Laura Marling posted this video last week and it’s amazing, Elliott Smith involved in the hopeless grind of promotion through regional breakfast shows. It reminds me of when the Earlies played Fox Breakfast News in Austin right after the Vet answered phone calls about ailing pets. Elliott is sat next to an indifferent woman and some kind of Zig and Zag style hand puppet, he’s just been interviewed by an over-caffeinated jackass who has no respect for him and then he proceeds to drop every jaw in the studio and break every heart in that room and every room with a television all over the state. It’s a stunning performance and a reminder of the shit people had to do to get ahead. They still have to do shit, they just do it on Instagram and Tiktok instead. They are still just as unsure about whether there’s any point in any of it.

Someone Bought an Echo Unit

Andy Bell sent this album the other night and it’s hypnotically wonderful. Adam Reichel and Machines Echo might remind you of Pink Floyd, specifically Echoes but then it feels like people were just buying Binson Echo Units and feeling pretty inspired as they stuck everything they could think of through them. I get it too, it’s as good a reason to make an album as any and I was swept away whilst listening to it.

Tracy Strikes Back

I’ve been thrilled to see 30 Rock turn up on Netflix this week and I’ve started right back at the beinning and I have laughed. Tracy Jordan played by Tracy Morgan is one of the greatest characters to ever turn up in a sitcom, every line he delivers is only funny because he is the person saying it. I often watch his appearances on talk shows and he is absolutely that person. Somebody has taken the time to carefully produce this video of him explaining the plot of the Empire Strikes Back and they frankly deserve every tenth of a penny that Youtube sends their way for the trouble.

Dr. Octagonecologyst

Thirty years old this week is the legendary first album by Dr. Octagon, a concept album loosely based around a homicidal, extraterrestrial, time-traveling gynecologist and surgeon. I was first introduced to this when Giles included Blue Flowers on one of the many late 90s cassette compilations he made me, I’ve never let go. Doves and Cherry Ghost’s old driver Harry once toured with Kool Keith, I think it might’ve even been an Ultramagnetic MCs reunion tour. Harry said Kool Keith was as interesting a character as you could ever meet, hopelessly addicted to pornography though. He used to throw his old jazz mags out into the audience during the encore, which must’ve been nice. He put his obsession to good use on Dr. Octagonecologyst, it’s littered with dialogue excerpts from the skin flicks. It also feature one of the greatest tuntablists the world has ever seen, DJ Qbert, who I saw live twenty years after this album when Woody and me were on the same bill as him at the DMX finals in London. Take an hour out to enjoy this twisted chaotic masterpiece today.