You know you get an occasion where the location is really fitting to your state? Like "plastered in Paris" or "the Como coma"?
Well I have quite a large hangover and we're in Carrickfergus, so that's put paid to that one.
Nearly done for the summer, what a good time it's been, "super smashing great" as the immortal Jim Bowen used to say on Bullseye, an English TV show of the 70s and 80s which featured people playing darts for prizes. Oh don't you just pine for the good old days? Not really. I have to say though (a favourite saying of my mother in law) that the PC bit does REALLY get on my tits. However, being white, middle class and not bothered what people say to or about me makes me a candidate for the angry brigade.
Anyway, never mind, I was in the hotel this morning, feeling crap, so I went for a walk in the sunshine. In 5 minutes I was soaked as a squall blew up, which really helped. Then as it stopped I walked under a tree and a huge dollop of bird shit went inside the collar of my jacket and onto my neck. Lovely.
I also thought that the hotel was in Carrickfergus. By the way, just who is Carrick Fergus? It took me half an hour of thinking "funny, I didn't know they had 2 Ulster halls in Northern Ireland", and "why does this all look quite familiar? I've never been here before" . I then realised I was a) in Belfast and b) a bit of a mess. Cue loads of vitamin pills, fruit juice, fruit, water, energetic walking and telling my self I'll be fine. Which I shall be, I'm a legend, didn't you know? By the way, before I start to get down and dirty with real nitty gritty about life on the road with a hard rockin band with combined age of 374, I have an announcement.
Hear ye Hear ye Hear ye! (Or listen up as they say in the US.) You are all summoned to come and see a Woodedz performance at either the Half Moon London or the French Quo party on September 25th and 26th respectively the year of our Lord 2009. And as I'm a decent God fearing kind of bloke anyone not attending will be crucified. No exceptions. Fair enough?
By the way, if the previous bass guitarist was gay he'd be Fairy Nuff wouldn't he? Ok then, let's continue...
We've just finished the show, which was possibly the coldest we've ever done, and me and Ricardo went for a drink at the hotel bar. Kind of wrong, as there had been a wedding and there were some very tired and emotional people there, but we met the lovely Phyllis Callaghan there. That woman can sing. Incredible. She sang some traditional Irish songs; the main one was called Paddy Gordon. I've rarely been moved by such if you will naked emotion, as Rick said, there's no vibrato. Phyllis is 60 years young, but sings with such a clear voice it could bring you to tears. I asked for her number, but she told me to fuck off at least 3 times before she gave it to me, so maybe it's the wrong number. If it isn't I will record her, purity is such a dying thing these days. Sorry I digress, but that's why doing what I do is so great, because occasionally you meet someone who is touched by greatness, and they don't know it. What more can I say? Britain's got talent my fucking arse, what a load of predictable wank that is. While I'm in full rant mode, I don't give a toss that it has 5000 million viewers, it's a disappointment that the public wants what the public gets, as Paul Weller famously sang... he has been quite a poet at times.
In fact Phyllis has completely blown what I had to say to y'all out of the water. By the way, have you watched the movie Anvil? If not you must. It's more Spinal Tap than they are, except its for real, and they are LIVING it, an inspirational film if you ask me. Righty oh, I'm going to check out the Status Quo website to see where we've been rockin' then I shall return.
Hello hello hello, what's going on here then? Well, after Jersey, we went to Montreux, Switzerland to shoot our super massive new DVD/video, which I think should be called 500 ways to nearly die because it was so blindingly hot. I just wrote my report thing there, 'cos it was INFERNAL!!!! We played good, but it was a struggle, there was a heat wave in town, so it was a challenge but that's what you do, so buy it or else, as you know I'm a God fearing person (cont'd p.94). Crucifixion? Did I say that?
Up the next morning, of course it must be Sweden. Standing in the queue at Geneva airport, realising we're going to miss our flight to Copenhagen, cue Lyane, the best PA you can ever hope to have. 5 minutes later we're at the gate in plenty of time, pick up the bus and get to Borgholm with time to spare, courtesy of Backline 2, a total copy of the main Backline, uncannily known as Backline A. Fiendish these English, huh?
Refreshments on first, yep, cookin' with new guitar player. On to Klippan, where I had my clothes ironed by 2 Norwegian ladees, thank you so much, I looked a million Kroner when I arrived at the show. Bits of rain, but it didn't when we were on, shittest support for some time. Met up with the lovely Gert, he of Juke of the Month/Statusquo.com/total geeser fame, which brings me, as this version of events comes to a close to a bit of a sore message board point. Apparently Quo's version of Get out of Denver doesn't hold a candle to the Eddie and the Hot Rods performance. What a complete load of bollocks. Trust me, check it out on Youtube, actually don't bother. If you want to see the real deal (and this is no way a sad plug by the way) Woodedz rock it out proper.
Anyway, goodnight xxx
The Pictures tourlog 2008/9: