Dear
Knives & Forks
I'm sitting in Helsinki Airport staring myopically around the terminal after a nail-biting flight over the Bay of Finland in what can only be described as a paper napkin with propellers. I have enjoyed a short stay in Estonia courtesy of a band called Dreamfield who have very kindly (or very unwisely depending on your point of view) asked me to play drums for them on a short but intense tour of the major population centres of this proud Baltic State.
Estonia nestles between Latvia, Finland, and Russia and is full of blonde people who are a bunch of kind, good looking (and I mean REALLY good looking), intelligent, nutters. The country spends half of its year in almost total darkness and the other half in near perpetual light and as a result, these guys seem to have Seasonally Adjusted Disorder built into their very DNA. As soon as the sun comes out, everybody leaps into life, laughing, drinking, dancing and eventually (drink permitting), shagging each others brains out. God only knows what happens when it gets dark.
This has been an interesting experience for me as I haven't picked up a pair of sticks in anger in well over eighteen months. I'm going back to school for a crash course in hitting things and I haven't got my satchel, tie or my maths homework.
The rehearsals took place in a dimly lit studio room in Paddington filled to overflowing with cigarettes, chocolate bars, tangled cables, rubbish seating and electric shocks from dodgy P.A's. Ah, memories, this is what I got into music for. Forget the women, drugs and rock and roll. I all I need is a toasted cheese sandwich, a Twix and a Pepsi to feel like a man nowadays.
With rehearsals out of the way we hit the airport for the journey East. Six hours later we are driving through the cobbled streets of Estonia's capital Tallinn at breakneck speed. We end up having to go directly to the gig 'cos our fllight was delayed. Tired and slightly soiled, we stagger through the doors of the club only to discover that all our non-hired gear was not transferred from Helsinki to Tallinn. Cue mad dash across town to a music shop to be hugely overcharged for sticks and brushes (boo!) and then back to the gig to find the gear has arrived on a later flight (double boo!).
The gig was not hugely attended but that's fine with us, it was a last minute booking and we all looked a bit shabby after the flight. Steve (our sound man) is seated behind the mixing desk looking equally tired but accomplishing miracles with the equipment at hand and actually makes us sound fresh as daisies. Take note all those who diss the guy behind the desk, he/she has your collective balls in their grasp for the entire time you're on that stage. Treat them with respect or be prepared to sound like Leonard Cohen on Ketamin.
Next day we are rattling along a very dodgy road in our tour bus (just like a real band), overtaking huge goods lorries on the opposite side of the road. I sit rigid staring at the oncoming traffic thinking about all of the songs I haven't recorded yet and wondering if I should ask one of the girls on the bus for a bit of company before we all die. I trust to the skill of our driver who seems to take it all in his stride and hardly notices our whimpering from behind his mirrored driving glasses and Kamikaze headband.
"Welcome to Parnu" says a sign which helpfully adds in scrawled English underneath 'Valerie fucks dogz'. In these parts Valerie is a man's name and I'm left hoping that this guy is not a town dignitary that we have to meet and greet later. Steve says that this is not the worst thing he's ever encountered on tour. Now I'm truly worried.
The gig is at the Parnu museum of art which is a nice place to look at pictures and sculptures but a lousy place to play music. The echoes in the room ensure that every note we play is repeated to us a second later. This would be bad enough if it were not for the fact that the echo is playing better than we are. To top it all as soon as we leave the stage, we are told that we were live on Estonian National TV. Sorry, didn't anybody tell you before you went on? The toilets were fortunately located nearby and the band politely takes turns to throw up into them. Steve watches us with mild amusement and said that it sounded great out front.
The rest of the gigs were nowhere near as gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable to play and all was made better by the crowd reactions (which were fantastic) and the vodka (which was mind shaftingly good as well). The nights turned into early mornings and we all retreated to our beds to be woken just in time for the next day's soundcheck. This was becoming a routine that I began to realise is entirely different from what I used to imagine a touring band got up to when I was a kid. You think it's all champagne and lusty women where it's actually all alarm clocks and recovery. Rock and roll; I'm getting too old for this shit and I've only just started!!
Back in Helsinki, I now have a two hour flight back to the UK to follow. Tomorrow, I'm back in the studio recording more tracks for the new album and although I'm really, REALLY, tired, I've thoroughly enjoyed the experience and realised how addictive it is. No responsibility save the performance, new places to see, hotel rooms to sully and a total lack of having to be mature in any way.
I'm playing at the Half Moon in Putney on Monday the 15th of July. It seems like another world away at this moment but maybe that's because it is. Anyway, be there as I'd love to see you all, and the now is all that matters. Hmmm... I'll remember that for future reference.
Please take the greatest of care, my knives and forks, because once life is finished with you, all that's left is the washing up.
I am sir/madam, your obedient Idol,
Simon 'Fairy Liquid' Walsh.
PS. If you think that ending was a bit downbeat here's a picture of a flower to cheer you up.
