Friday, 2 October 2009

Evile. Day 3. Hamburg.

So we made it through the night people! No one got mutilated, tortured or chased around the desolate space that we called home for the night. Winners. No, we slept like babies and got up needing shits and net use. All but Matt, the singer got our shit together and headed up the road and round the corner to find a café and an internet café that we had been told was near by.

We stopped at a pharmacy and I stocked up on painkillers, Mike got some mouth gel for his outbreak of ulcers that were attacking him viciously and then crossed the road to the Internet café. It is exactly like the ones you find in Kentish Town and that. Some old Muslim dude pointed us to a couple of filthy desks and me and Ol set to on updating everyone with wa blow in the Evile camp. We made it swift cause the toilet really was number one priority.

On the walk back we talked of how Matt had better of got up and prettied up the motor home. Set the table for breakfast and be wearing a piny. Of course he wasn’t. The motor home is still not too smelly and messy though, it is only day 3 to be fair though eh.

We hit a service station and go about our business and then off we go, Hamburg just a 4 or 5 hour drive ahead of us. We all had little naps, Matt and me took turns sitting up front with Lyall, listened to music on the forces radio and before we knew it the docks of Hamburg were looming up ahead of us.

Lyall had been cursing the road we were on, saying how it was always congested and traffic jams ahoy cause of the docks and I didn’t really pay him much mind till I saw with my own eyes what he was banging on about.

Hamburg on entry is quite some fucking sight. Massive fuck off cranes on conveyer systems run the lengths of the docks. Gigantic fucking ships loaded with unbelievable amounts of container crates wait to be unloaded or loaded. Impressive railway lines and highways criss cross all over the shop and it all has this weird sort of grace about it.

I am just staring out the window with my mouth hanging open as we hit the Elb tunnel that cuts under the water and soon we are back out and within 10 minutes we are pulling up outside the Ballroom, the venue for tonight.

It’s a shame that we didn’t have any spare time, Hamburg is definitely a place that would be ace to have a wander round. As it was we were kinda late, so got straight to it, unloading and setting up for sound check.

Drone were already there and the singer was his usual obnoxious but charming self. My merch buddy, Costa was all set up so I cracked on did my thing while the band set up.

This place had the dressing room downstairs, which was fucking huge and had showering facilities so as soon as I had the merch stand done I grabbed my girlie shizzle from the motor home and waited till Lyall got done with his cleaning time.

Let me explain how the land lies at this point in the tour. Till this point it had been all about baby wipes and sinks at service stations. We have only been out 3 days now but you feel scabby proper fucking quickly when you’re on the road. On top of this we have a big ol’ drive ahead of us starting immediately after this gig, going through the night, right through the next day, the following night, till Friday. So everyone wants a shower. Next opportunity will hopefully be on the ferry from Sweden to Finland. But who knows.

So, while the guys sound check I get Lyall to put the door that was leaning against the wall, back in to the doorframe behind me and wash, shave and fake tan. By the time I get out I am refreshed and dressed in my slutty bar clothes, now slutty merch selling clothes and the guys have finished sound check.

Evile don’t fuck about when it comes to sound check. They bish bash bosh it. They all take turns showering and the rest of us hunker down around our laptops, making the most of the wi-fi. Loads of emails from the record label await us, interview times given for when we reach Helsinki and queries over merch sales.

One of the frustrating parts of touring is the incessant need to be online ALL THE FUCKING TIME. See, now days everyone has a blog to write for….daily. And, the record label expects updates on everything….daily.

Two things. First off, you don’t always get the luxury of wi-fi. Also, when you do get it, it’s when you are at the venue and therefore quite tied up with the job at hand, putting on the gig that you are there to do. It is hard to understand that when you’re at the other end and not on the tour.

Secondly, you are on a fucking tour man. It should be about scandalous debauched rock n roll living, not sitting around bent over your fucking laptop doing the ‘paper work’. I mean fuck. Seriously, by the time reports have been done and sent and updates made to this that and the other, you haven’t the fucking time to let loose and make some fucking legend stories that will follow the band for years to come! Still, here I am, writing. If I’ve just shattered any dreams and illusions don’t worry, I am also currently drinking. For the team eh.

Dinner tonight consists of pasta with tomato and basil sauce. There is a whole lot of plate and not so much pasta. I cooked better than this at Uni', and I can’t cook for SHIT. Who cooked this? Were they not aware that they were cooking for two metal bands and the crew, 6 people of which are relying on this as they’re only meal of the day before a long gig and an even longer fucking drive?

On with the show, empty stomachs or not. Doors open and a smattering of people come in. Bad ticket sales don’t dampen the metal spirit and the show kicks off strong. The owner of the club is not down with the smoking ban and so everyone is lighting up lie it’s the nineties. Hell yeah, I chain smoke all over the shop with my merch buddy, drinking and dancing and head banging.
Evile have a front row of head bangers tonight instead of a bunch of prom queens and so the set is filthy and raw and strong. I get some great footage on the camcorder, mainly cause some dude came introduced himself for filming all these big band names and pushed his assistant towards me who took the camera and went about getting crotch shots and close ups and all sorts. Genius.

She had said that from the side I look like Cyndi Lauper and he said that from the back I look like his mate Mike. I made him buy me a shot for that. Touché.

Lyall had taken himself off to bed after ‘dinner’ and as soon as the gig finished we started packing up and our promoter took him a coffee to wake him up. I came in just under the labels target so was bummed out but who was there bought something so what can you do?

There was a fella who had missed Evile play twice, once in Bradford 3 years ago when his car broke down and once when they were supporting and the whole gig had been cancelled. He was pretty fucking cool, bought some stuff, so when Mike came upstairs I introduced them and mike took him off to the dressing room to hang with the band for a bit. Of course they were for the most part busy on the laptops doing work, which probably killed the dream a bit for him. Ha!

All packed up, goodbyes done and off we go. Well, we get jammed down a one way cobbled street with a taxi coming our way but after that….whoosh, we are outta there. Other than Ol, we all stay up, drinking and chatting and pissing about. Me and Matt take turns playing D.J and generally the mood is one that we are all in this together, side by side. Lyall has to drive for two days and there is no way on gods earth any of us will see him sitting up front on his own for any of that. There’s one of the other beauties of touring for you. Comradeship.

No comments:

Post a Comment