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We live to die another day

13th September 2017

When I walked into The Trocadero it felt right, like deja vu. Fact is I may have played there before. Your guess is as good as mine. Dougie told me the road the back stage door was on, smelt fetid, surrounded as it was by eateries, and to hold my nose. It was fine to me. I have an arbitrary sense of smell at the best of times, courtesy of a nasal spray cold inhibitor I was abusing on tour some good few years ago. Today smell was on its holibobs. All I detected was incense or some hippy waft and I liked it very well indeed. This room sounds good, at least the stage does. I knew straight off that sound would not be an issue. Instead, it’s that mine was patently not a hot ticket. We ran at about 35% capacity. Those who came, however, were class and it is pertinent to remember I am an old school foreigner who has toured here precious little. That any people come at all is a wonder.¬†

Unfortunately, they started playing my walk-on track 5 mins early without cueing me. I heard it playing from upstairs in my dressing room. This startled me to get to the stage pronto but made me forget to plug in my in-ear monitor, and consequently I couldn’t hear my click count in and thus missed my entrance. First track already a stop-start. Classy. Fortunate that it doesn’t bother me much. The crowd-in-the-know, I shall regard them this way, were up for every eventuality and filled the hall as best they might. Without taped proof to the contrary I think I sang pretty well. They were certainly going to have my every effort. They gave me theirs.

Something else missing was our entire stock of merchandise which, unaccountably, got left in Washington. That’s dull. We shall not retrieve it until NY the gig after next. It could be worse. Boston isn’t that fussed about me in numbers either.

I went from the stage straight outside and into the car as we are driving tonight towards Boston.

We stopped at a hotel some mid distance. The bed is lush. Unfortunately on entering my room tired and due a shower, the smoke detector was a lush too. Sharp squeaky bastard pips without any suggestion of smoke present. Early hours & I called for the hotel engineer and waited some time for him to come. They were stupid bits of shit that pissed him off, he said, but I was not to worry. If it happens again he would pull the bastard out.

I’ll do it for him.

BTW. We still don’t have a bus. The whole company, it transpires, was in Florida and awash, and besides which, our vehicle apparently doesn’t work anyway.

Plus. Christ. My gig patter was chronic tonight. I don’t plan. I just talk and sometimes I am fluid and articulate and witty and sometimes, when introducing a song, like for example ‘Beautiful Gun’ I say maybe something like ‘much rather be chased by a knife’… ?
What a Twunt.
FML

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