UK Blog III
Ok, back at it . . . ready, and . . . GO!
PF here, it’s Friday, 4/9/09 (that’s how they do it here, you know, but, it’s NOT April 9th!). We’re in the van, currently cruising from Banham to Devon. It’s been two weeks over here thus far, 4 more to go. Let’s see . . .
When last I wrote, we were leaving the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Last thoughts on the Fringe . . . it’s unlike anything else. Basically, imagine taking every arts event that takes place in every venue and gallery in the entirety of New York City – dance, comedy, theatre, music, cabaret, installation, readings, lectures, Q&A’s, acrobatics, etc – and jam it into a town one quarter of the size. Every building is a venue. There are, seriously, alleyways with tarps strewn over the top that become venues. It is totally cutthroat, also. Every year there’s more venues and not necessarily more people coming in to watch, so, well, YOU do the math.
This year’s experience was not quite as completely mind-blowing for us as last year, mainly due to the different venue. Alas, our pals at the Spiegeltent were not in attendance this year. So, no La Clique, no Captain Frodo, no Sideshow. Additionally, our venue (although a GREAT venue with a wonderful staff and a real focus on quality) was a bit off the beaten path, and also was more associated with traditional music than whatever it is that you want to call our thing. Anyway, I don’t want to harp on this, as it would be really hard to top a person’s first experience at the Fringe, so let’s just move on here.
But first . . .
Thoughts on Hostels (note, this is where I sound grumpy and irascible, but do keep in mind that I regularly sleep in some of the least accommodating accommodations available.):
We spent the week in Edinburgh staying in a tourist hostel (supposedly different from a student hostel, but how I’m unsure). Imagine how happy the inhabitant of the sixth person who happened to be staying in our room was when we rolled in with all of our bags and whatnot, all full of typical American braggadocio, sleeping late, rolling in at all hours of the night, snoring, laughing, etc etc etc. Now, snoring might connote to you that we slept well. Au contraire, mon freres et filles! These bunk beds . . . not comfortable! Every minute motion resulted in a symphony of creaks and squeaks and shakes.
Additionally, our hostel happened to be essentially directly in the city center, right across form the univeristy. Now, you may know that Scotland is currently undergoing the throes of a new set of alchohol laws – no happy hours, no being drunk in a bar, etc etc. Now, some of this you can certainly chalk upo to the typical moralistic B.S. That politicians resort to when there’s larger problems that are well out of their grasps. HOWEVER, part of the reason for new legistlation was easily viewed and heard every night until about 4-5am on the street just out our window. Just absolute idiocy. Fall-down drunks everywhere; stumbling, shouting, passing out in pissy alleyways, etc etc etc. Drunken barbarism. Now, you might call me an old fuddy duddy (and I am), but . . . come on. Keep it together, just a little bit!
And many of these people were staying in our hostel.
And so, that’s why I don’t like hostels.
Now, the day after the Fringe we headed to Perthshire, returning to the Birnam, where we had played a year previous with the Wilders. Birnam, as you may or may not know, is famous for at LEAST two reaosns. 1) When Birnam Woods move to Dunsenin . . . maybe you know the rest. 2) It is the childhood vacation home of Beatrix Potter, where she developed her love of nature and essentially wrote Peter Rabbit, Miss Tiggy Winkles (is that what she was called?), etc etc.
Anyway, Birnam woods did NOT descend upon us, and no one fell into a water jug, got chased by Farmer MacGregor, or had to drink Chamomile Tea. What did happen was a super kickass, nearly sold out show. Oftentimes we find over here that our crowds are a little on the reserved side. Not cold or indifferent, just very polite. This crowd was no different, however, by the second set, they got the message that we are a little . . . informal, to say the least. By the end of the night, they were responding to our jokes and hooting along with the best of them. This was a nice contrast to the Fringe, inasmuch as the town is very small and quiet, and the crowd was quite large and loud.
After Birnam, we had two days off, back in the Braehead Travelodge. We had stayed at this hotel before, when we were over in January ‘09 for Celtic Connections, so it almost felt like homecoming. Braehead is in the Glasgow suburbs, which are as sprawling and stupid as any suburb anywhere. This is especially galling here in the UK, as many cities seem to have done a good job of keeping the urban urban, and the surrounding rural rural. It’s actually pretty amazing how you can drive out of a city like London or Leicester or Edinburgh, and as soon as you cross the city line you are surrounded by fields, stone walls, and lush rural starkness. Unfortunately, the big box store phenomenon of the US seems to have pervaded certain areas of Great Britain, to the advantage of NO ONE. A perfect example of this was when we caught a taxi into Glasgow in order to grab dinner with Pokey on his last night here. We asked our driver if he knew of a good spot to get a hearty meal. His first response, “You mean like TGI Friday’s?” Our heads nearly exploded. How sad is that? We could go literally ANYWHERE and end up with that mediocre pap. Ah well, rant over.
On Wednesday, we met back up with Gerald and the van for a ride down to Leicester. A gorgeous ride South through England indeed. Leicester is a bit of an industrial town, but a pretty one no doubt. It’s great to visit these cities that have been inhabited for 500+ years. Not a new sentiment, I realize, but awe-inspiring nonetheless for a group of yokels from the states.
The Musician (kind of a taunting name for a club, no?), where we played, is a really cool club that specializes in live music of all kinds. A quick look at the schedule makes it seem like pretty well everyone of our stature and above plays this spot when they are over. Always feels good to see familiar faces on a schedule. Sometimes we like to leave hidden notes in the hope that a friend will find it.
Anyway, it was a smallish crowd, but a very attentive and responsive one, so a good show . . . Our support was a group from Winnipeg called The Dust Poets – http://dustpoets.com. They played rootsy, pretty music with some great songwriting. Nice to meet new folks and talk about life on the road. This could be either creepy or heartwarming, depending on your opinion of us, I suppose.
Thursday found us traveling to Norwich, returning once again to the Banham Barrel. If you have followed our other UK travels, you may remember the Banham Barrel as a wonderful country pub (the 2009 Best Cider Pub in East Anglia, thanks very much) with a lively crowd that LOVES to dance. This is, as I intimated previously, unusual for our shows over here. It is also a welcome thing. We got there early and worked out about 7-8 new songs (3 originals, and a mess of bluegrass songs). Norwich is a very agricultural area, specializing in apples, but also home to lots of plums, berries, and other plants. In general, most everywhere here is just super lush. Maybe because it seems to never stop raining.
Anyway, there was some early consternation from Jonty, the extremely hospitable owner of the Barrel, due to ity being a Thursday night – not a normal night for a show there. However, by 9:30pm, the place was JUMPING! We began, as we like to do, with s mixture of our musical ventures. However, as in the previous two trips to the Barrel, it was immediately apparent that the tune for the night was old-timey, bluegrassy dance music. And so, we happily obliged. I can’t stress enough, folks, how NICE it is to play for dances. It really reinforces the true point of playing music. It’s not so we can spread our absurd ideas or gesticulate wildly; it’s so we can make a beat with some melody overtop to get feet, asses, hips, and torsos moving.
I’ve recently finished a book entitled “How the Beatles Destroyed Rock and Roll,” by Elijah Wald. This book delves into the history of music in the US of America, following it from primarily dance-forms and live dance bands into the world of recorded music. The basic premise is that the arc of musical evolution in the States goes from music for dancing, enjoyed by crowds and women, to snooty art-music that is enjoyed by tweed-wearing critics with monocles and giant sticks in certain places. Anyway, this night made me think about that book and it really puts the different types of performances that we play in perspective. Not sure which type I like better – the sit-down-and-listen show versus the dance-around-and-feel-the-beat show. Don’t think I need to decide, actually.
Anyway, after the show, there was much more carousing, drinking, and music making. We awoke mid-morning, had some tea and cereal, bacon sandwiches and coffee with Jonty, and headed out. We just passed Stonehenge on the road. Crazy, it’s just sitting in the middle of a field. A small parking lot. Not historical center, no concession stand, nothing. If we were in the States, there’d be a 20 foot high fence surrounding the thing, and you’d have to pay $25 to see it, and another $5 to take a picture. You could buy a foam hat in the shape of a giant grey stone, and maybe buy some sort of disgusting drink in a stone-shaped novelty cup. Plus condoms in the bathroom.
So that’s where we are . . . in a van, like always. We’re playing a folk-y club tonight, so we’ll probably keep it pretty close to the vest. Fool ‘em into buying CD’s, you know? No, just kidding, we don’t deny or disallow anything in our performances. We are not ashamed! I swear it!
Hey, how do you like these blogs? Funny? Pointless? Rambling? What do you like, we want to please you! Hit us up – thehotseats@gmail.com.
Hope yer well, check the picture page for full photo-accountings.
PF Hotseats . . . over ‘n out.
At a porn shop in Leicester
