Argentina

Feeling nicely refreshed after a day off in Buenos Aires where there's a decidedly autumnal feel to the place. It rained all day yesterday but that didn't stop Matt and I heading off for a spot of sight-seeing with local helpful chap Dennis who took us to a couple of monuments and the old port. After a record store signing session we were driven to a restaurant (more a temple for the worship of meat) for some dinner and then back to bed. All very boring really but just what was required after the last few days traveling. From now on the schedule is pretty relaxed with flights at reasonable hours and (hopefully) decent venues with proper facilities. A couple of the band are feeling a little under the weather but that's hardly surprising considering the amount of time spent on aircraft and the hours we've been keeping. Our arrival at airports is usually met with masked doctors frantically collecting health questionnaires filled in during transit (do you have any of the following symptoms: fever, sore throat, aching limbs, etc) while passengers are filmed with thermal cameras and police stand by, presumably to arrest the infirm. It's invariably a snaking melee of irate travellers as queue management is non-existent and immigration and customs still await. Not what you want after a long flight. Still, it could have been worse, we might have been flying on one of these:

Ecuador

All a bit hectic really, what with flying in and playing on the same day. The venue was as described and lacking in many basic health and safety areas (must not stink of diesel being one of them), though it meant Vincent finished the concert in dramatic fashion, flat on his back after an electric shock from his effects pedals. Quito seems a nice town, though the sight of a dirty two-year-old kid wandering alone next to a main road without a care in the world was a little jarring, particularly since we were enjoying the luxury of the Hilton Colon hotel. Sleep patterns can now only be described as farcical, though the schedule means we can relax for a couple of days on arrival in Buenos Aires. We're flying via Peru so dramatic scenery should be available to those interested along the way.

Waiting for our connecting flight to Ecuador in a most mellow departure lounge in San Jose, Costa Rica. We all wish we were getting off here - it looks ace. The Mexico gig was well received by the most enthusiastic audience I've ever seen and therefore can be classed "worth the effort". I've lost all concept of time and distance now but it doesn't really matter any more. We're straight off the plane to the venue in Quito today (a brick hut if rumours are to be believed) but after that it's two days off in Buenos Aires.

Mexico

It seems like I fell asleep in London, had a seemingly never-ending nightmare about planes, then woke up feeling knackered in Mexico. It turns out this is all true, apart from the falling asleep bit. Twelve hours on a plane is a long time, and I was awake for every sodding second of it (not to mention the previous connecting flight as well). There were some breathtaking sights as we flew over the Bahamas though (see above). It was pretty chaotic at Mexico City airport - wheelchair-bound officials were helped by thermal imaging cameras to spot fever to make sure no-one had swine flu, while sniffer dogs looked diligently for naughty stuff in baggage. Customs officials invited everyone to play the "press the button" game - you press a button - a green light means pass through, a red light means you're searched. All passed except Danny, though he didn't get too much hassle. The drive to the hotel was nuts as expected - no driving regulations to speak of and some very interesting vehicles. Nice food at the hotel, though the fact that the peso and dollar signs are so similar had me wondering if we were in one of the worlds most expensive restaurants ($178.00 for a steak!?).

Off to the venue now. Lets see what awaits.

Slobbing around for a week in London before heading off for Mexico and South America next Tuesday. The Spanish leg of the recent tour was a bit of a drag - none of the venues were particularly great and most were in the industrial outskirts as usual. Alicante was nice though, Danny somehow getting the audience swaying along to an impromptu rendition of "The Jolly Pieman" - a bizarre sight, footage of which may appear on Youtube. I would highly recommend Portugal to anyone who's never been. I'd always imagined a bit more Spain with a different name but couldn't have been more wrong. Most on the bus seemed pleased to be heading home by the end of the tour - sound man Ian Bond itching to get to LA and his missus, the band bungalow-bound to put the finishing touches to the album. I on the other hand am happy doing absolutely nothing.

Cheers.

In Granada at a classic industrial estate venue. It's been raining so hopefully life on the bus will be a little more bearable than yesterday in Madrid. Unfortunately the schedule means we haven't had too much time to explore, though Vincent has been making sure he takes in some art when he has the chance. Nothing particularly blog-worthy has happened to be honest - the shows have been well attended and well received, the drives between cities smooth and uneventful. I did get left behind at a service station but a quick phone call sorted that out. Oh yeah, I think I might have lost a couple of cables but I'm not sure. Maybe something exciting awaits us in Alicante.

Portugal/Spain

Having a morning cuppa in the new Traveller's Arms (not quite as charming as our last mobile local but we're working on it) on "the Cream Machine" while driver John steers us through big open plains and the odd town towards Bilbao after shows in Lisbon and Porto. I like the new bus, mainly because there's only ten of us on board this time. The bunks are a little bigger and the toilet has rocks in it (either turd deterrent or ornamental piss-feature, we can't decide which) but on the whole it's business as usual. Portugal is a great country - like a grander version of Spain. We had a spectacularly tasty meal by the waterfront in Lisbon, enjoyed to the sound of a swarm of giant hornets (actually traffic noise from the nearby bridge) and then headed for the old town to sample the traditional Portuguese drink known locally as "a bucket of vodka with ice in it". Les' birthday was celebrated after the Lisbon show with a huge cake and happy birthday sung repeatedly to him by a nutter. Porto is a typographer's dream - elegant buildings with cool lettering and neon signs everywhere you look. Multi-skilled Mick Reed joined fine support act Leafblade with his djembe drum last night, managing to squeeze in rehearsals during breaks from his new job as chief lampshade designer for the tour.

Romania

Flew in to Bucharest, stayed in a hotel, had some beers and food, Anathema played to a couple of thousand people in a big hall, then we flew home again.

Touring Portugal and Spain starting Monday and we're on a bus again. Hope it's as much fun as last time.

A most agreeable way to record guitar.

Just come back from the pub - my first "leisure time" in a week. It was jolly nice to read the paper over a pint on a warm spring evening in Yorkshire. Speaking of springtime, there's an awful lot of rabbits running around outside the bungalow, all quite cute with their white tails bobbing about the place, though I can't help imagining what they'd be like in a spicy Sicilian tomato sauce with some crusty bread to dip in. Mick has very kindly supplied us with a motorcycle and mountain bike for our recreational and transportation needs while isolated here, bringing the shops a little closer, but providing less of a chance to say hello to the horses tied up by the roadside along the way. I'm going to buy the poor things some carrots tomorrow. Plenty has been done recording-wise since our return to the UK - the tracking for the album is rapidly nearing completion. Les is doing some rough mixes for record company and management ears. It's nice to hear the songs in an almost complete form - so much of recording involves listening to little snippets as you try to nail a particular vocal part or whatever. We've had news that visits to Colombia and Brazil might be added to our South American trip in May making the whole thing pretty bonkers flights-wise. Not good news for notorious aviation-phobe Matt.

The photo shows the big board in the studio, pictured some time ago I might add.

The Tunisian escapade made it into the papers back home in England, namely the Liverpool Echo and The Sun!

http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/liverpool-news/local-news/2009/04/10/the-devil-s-in-the-detail-for-city-band-100252-23357537/

I'm with Anathema in the studio for a couple of weeks (currently recording Vincent's vocals) so I might write something about it if anybody's interested - just waiting for something blog-worthy to happen. Knowing this lot I won't be waiting too long.

How about that?

I just had a call from Ahmed, our esteemed promoter in Tunisia, telling me that the missing guitar has been found! Apparently he received an anonymous tip-off pointing him towards an area of woodland close to the Acropolium where he found the damn thing sitting there. I still can't quite believe it. Many, many thanks to all those in Tunisia who did so much to help find the guitar - your efforts obviously pricked a guilty conscience.

Cheers!

Back home...

...in London for a few days before heading back to the bungalow to help Anathema finish the album. We returned from Tunisia minus one rather expensive Les Paul guitar which in all likelihood went missing from the Acropolium sometime between Friday and Monday when we were denied access. Also one piece of hold baggage was removed from the connecting flight to Manchester in Paris. This happened to be Jay's bass, so we're down two guitars on the deal. The bass is traceable fortunately. So if any of you good people in Tunisia come across a wine red flame top Gibson Les Paul in a black Gibson case, possibly with an Anathema sticker on it, I'd be awfully grateful if you'd let me know. You can leave a message on this blog.

What a massive pain in the arse that all was then. In spite of everything though, I'd like to say that I and the band have nothing against the Tunisian people - what happened during our visit was a series of unfortunate events. We would like nothing better than to return to play the concert, which judging by the fans we met will be an amazing event. All being well Anathema will return sometime very soon so keep your eyes peeled for news. In the meantime, the next stop is Romania on April 29th.

See you in a couple of weeks.

After four days at the hotel waiting "just one hour more" for authorisation or whatever, the gig has finally officially been cancelled (not by the band of course). We've been up to the venue and removed all the guitars and keyboards we set up on Friday, all the while watched by disbelieving fans, who one assumes experienced this same disappointment just two days ago. It's such a shame for all the Tunisian fans (and of course those who travelled from elsewhere). We don't really know why this happened and who really was to blame - there's been a lot of talk and a lot of silence surrounding the whole affair. The one thing that is certain is that Anathema will be back to play in Tunisia in the not-too-distant future.

Until then, bye for now.

For the record

I'd like to make it clear that this blog is not intended to be an official source of information regarding any of the bands for whom I work or any other persons mentioned in any of the posts, merely a series of (hopefully entertaining) anecdotes about life on the road with Anathema and others. I hope it is read in the same spirit with which it is written.

Cheers

Darryl

To all the Anathema fans who travelled to Carthage to find the concert postponed: myself, the rest of the crew, the promoters and the band tried everything in our power to make it happen but sadly were prevented from doing so by circumstances beyond our control. We'll do all we can to put on a great show for you tomorrow evening.

Hope to see you there.

There were a great many angry fans at the venue on Saturday evening and quite rightly so. Many had travelled a great distance and won't be able to make the Monday re-schedule. In an attempt to make amends Danny and Vincent put on a great little acoustic show in the hotel bar for around fifty lucky fans and a few unsuspecting guests. Our promoter Ahmed has assured us the gig will go ahead on Monday once the correct paperwork has been presented to the correct people. So we found ourselves with a day off today and headed to Sidi Bou Said for a prolonged high-pressure sales pitch from the local hawkers and shopkeepers. I almost had to buy a bronze horse just to escape with my life. It's a lovely little town, all white and blue due to some strange local bye law, though sadly lacking in places to enjoy a cool beer. Everyone's back at the hotel now, starving and waiting for the restaurant to open.

Okay, now this is good. The gig has been postponed until Monday evening and we have been denied entry to the concert venue, having arrived this morning to find a police guard at the entrance. Our promoter informed us that somebody, in an attempt to scupper the project, has told the Tunisian interior ministry that Anathema are Satan worshippers who eat black cats and drink their blood (but draw the line at kissing their anuses - see earlier post from Blois). The ministry have requested song lyrics to peruse over the weekend in order to put their minds at rest. We're now sitting down to a nice dinner (courtesy of our apologetic promoter) while someone heads up to the venue to break the news to the disgruntled fans. We'll have to see what happens on Monday.

Waiting in the hotel lobby for the bus to the venue. We were told to be here at 9am and it's now 11.30. This whole thing is starting to fall apart. The missing bag is still not here and they now have Les's passport. Also, the Carthage sewer system is having to work overtime due to something dodgy on the menu last night. There may not be a gig.

Carthage.

Things are not really going to plan here. We're still waiting for one bag that got left at the airport (complimentary drinks from Air France to blame) and we were denied today's soundcheck as there's a dispute about whether we're allowed to make any noise or not. We're heading back at 9am to see if there's going to be a gig. All the equipment supplied is a little low-spec - it's a bit like a "my first gig" play set. Still, the venue is spectacular, inside and out.

On the upside the hotel is posh and we've all got our own rooms and the dinners are great. Bafflingly, the place is full of people recovering from nose jobs. Regular sound man Matt is revealing his mental age (six) with his Dastardly and Muttley dvds, photos of a rocket he's building and a stupid hat he's planning to wear while mixing (see above).

At the bungalow of rock.

I'm heading off to the ancient city of Carthage with Anathema in a couple of days after having spent the last two weeks at their studio-in-a-bungalow in Yorkshire, helping them to record their much anticipated new album. It's sounding pretty good so far, thanks in part to the fine engineering skills of Les Smith. The bungalow is an odd place to be - a twenty minute walk from the nearest shops or pub (note the singular), in neither town nor countryside, sat in the middle of a scratty building site next to a golf course by the M62. The sense of isolation felt by those who have spent any length of time there becomes graphically apparent when one notices how faces light up at the prospect of a drive to the nearest Asda, usually courtesy of Les and his big van. On arrival at the supermarket everyone usually heads straight for the "Whoops!" counter, unless of course they bump into, say, a member of My Dying Bride as happened just the other day. Asda appears to be the store of choice for the budget-conscious local metal musician. Some form of endorsement deal might not be a bad idea.

Anyway, the "Whoops!" counter contains all the reduced stuff that's on or near its sell by date, and they don't half knock it down you know (green beans for one pence?), unlike tight-arsed Tesco's on Stroud Green Road back home. The thing I don't get is why they put a sticker saying "Whoops!" on a reduced item as if they've somehow made a mistake in not selling it at the full price, rather than having been merely unfortunate not to do so as is more than likely the case. In reality, writing "Damn it!" or "Bollocks!" on the sticker would more accurately reflect the circumstances by which the item came to be there. "Whoops!" is what old ladies say when they spill tea. Don't beat yourselves up Asda, it's not your fault.

So, Tunisia on Thursday afternoon for a gig in a big old ancient cathedral. More information will follow.

Alencon

Fittingly or ironically, the last show of this little tour with Ruby Throat is taking place in the bar of a curiously shaped arts centre in Alencon where concert promoters, venue owners and other operators within the music industry are gathered for a conference to try to figure out what the hell they're going to do now the government is withdrawing massive amounts of funding for the arts. I've really grown to like this country and its people over this past couple of weeks. We've been well looked after by friendly people who have uniformly gone out of their way to make us comfortable and welcome, cook us nice meals, ply us with drink and generally take a great deal of pride in what they do for a living, i.e running really great little concert venues and arts centres for the benefit of their communities and the country as a whole. It seems a lot of these people will find themselves unemployed or closing their doors within the next year or so which is a damn shame. They're not, as could easily be assumed, a bunch of arty layabouts taking advantage of a generous pot of cash from a well meaning government. As far as I can see they work hard to uphold the fine French tradition of treating culture as something as important as health care and good sanitation, even as the odds mount against them. Apparently we're only talking about zero-point-three per-cent of the national budget here as well. I really hope things will not be as bad as people fear - the venues we've visited are the lifeblood of a band like Ruby Throat who would struggle to make money touring in the UK. And apart from anything else I really want to come back here and do this all over again.

Having said all that, the main band this evening were a completely bizarre mixture of Boyzone, Crosby Stills and Nash and the Osmonds, and they were only about twenty years old. And on top of that there's still the worrying matter of the French jazz-funk fixation. Thinking about it, maybe they only have themselves to blame.

Next stop: Tunisia with Anathema in early April. Bye for now.

Saint Nazaire

The car seems to have fixed itself so that's good news. I still reckon I could have done it myself. We had a bit of a problem with the sat-nav as it wouldn't recognise the postcode for the next venue so we had to input the town and street name longhand, prompting it to suggest many possible Saint Nazaires. Maybe he's the patron saint of town naming.

After a good show in Rambouillet last night the venue manager proudly informed me that the building had originally been a hat factory, built sometime in the nineteenth century. I was very impressed, until we arrived in Saint Nazaire this afternoon to find we're playing inside the German navy's U-Boat base from world war two! Makes your hat factory story sound like a piece of shit now doesn't it. It's truly mind blowing to walk around the place, and apparently the reason it stands to this day is that it is uneconomical to demolish, it having being built to withstand any bomb available at the time (the roof is thirty feet thick). We have no worries as far as disturbing the neighbours is concerned.

Rambouillet

Sitting watching the support act - the French don't half like their smooth jazz funk. I must say the sound guy is doing an excellent job. Rambouillet is a lot more rural than anywhere else we've visited thus far and actually had us driving along some nice country roads to get there - a change from six hour slogs down the motorway. The car is still misbehaving, now belching foul black smoke as we go, further adding to the embarrassment of driving the thing even when it's running well. I'm going to have a go at fixing it tomorrow. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Limoges

The car coughed and spluttered its way to Limoges, sometimes slowing us to an embarrassing thirty mph when climbing hills on the motorway, a little bit scary when you've got truckers up your back end. My theory is that the automatic choke is faulty meaning too much petrol is getting into the mixture thus partially flooding the engine; but since I know as much about car engines as I do about football I wouldn't say that out loud to another human being.

It was an odd kind of show at the Woodstock Boogie Bar in Limoges - well attended but a little rough mainly due to technical issues (one being that Chris and Katie were technically drinking more wine than they should). I ended up with the private apartment above the venue as accommodation for the night and quite nice it was too, though due to it having the previous tenant's possessions and decor it did feel a bit like sleeping in the bed of someone recently deceased.

We're eating pancakes with nutella spread for breakfast, another example of how surprisingly civilised the French can be the further you get from Paris. The tripe sausages we had at a roadside cafe on the other hand were pretty revolting.