Monday, July 11, 2005
The West's Awake july 11th
------arizona,the whole mountainside on fire, a huge smokecloud, stretches miles into the sky. the heat here beyond anything i've felt before. meet a very fat man at the el paso show ,says he doesn't go anywhere that hasn't got air conditioning, and tries not to go outside atall in summer. a slave to air con and the american diet. two of the potent symbols of freedom. it's crazy what people eat over here. the portions more fitting for a cow. I have noticed a third belly, it hangs above the first and second bellies, pointing towards the ground .like a spiders baby sack, they are evolving into a new species of human. homoeatshitloadsapian.
-------leaving tucson, don't pronounce the C. had the strangest deja vu. Knew i'd seen the vaudeville before. Riding shotgun. kamikaze mices and rabbits, risk all before our wheels .stop in a town that seems to consist of a mobile phone mast and four petrol pumps of great age, a pickup with no wheels rusts, propped up on beercrates, buckling under the pressure, step out into the desert. realise the petrol station's long derilict and we are alone here .stare at the moon with my tongue hanging out. thirty foot cactuses, like totem poles. walk a short way down the track, away from the lights, into the total dark ,and silence ,see a large white dogshaped beast ,with my name on it . scared shitless, walk backwards to the van, think of every horror movie i've ever seen in a few split seconds. have a proper moment of fear, but whatever it was or wasn't, it ran off. I seem to be encountering a lot of wild creatures in the dark, or possibly I'm losing my mind, or both. Lie down, sweating on the airbed. I didn't get abducted again, bastards, i've given them so many chances.
----- next morning slowly climb for 300 miles. it starts to get greener. the desert becomes sandunes, the sandunes become hillocks. america disappears behind us, a million red butterfly come out of nowhere, to our horror sacrificing themselves against our windscreen. big things that make a large bang when they hit the glass, exploding everywhere in suicide .on through Yuma, to the international house of pancakes, or rather one of several thousand dotted around the states. over boulder fields and increasingly jagged mountains. wish I was born 200 years ago. doing this journey on a wagon train. watching my topknot. shooting my supper. in the days before air con and big macs, when men were men and boys were buggered. finally we peak out and the descent begins. hurtling down the other side, our tin shed on wheels hanging on for dear life .If we crashed now, we would be the butterflys, the asphalt the windscreen. horses don't crash. it must have been something else to cross the U.S back then, after months or years of travelling, to reach california, alive. to throw yourself into the pacific , and wash off the dirt of the journey
5:30 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
Sunday, July 10, 2005
The Knights That say "Fuck Me" july10th
----------leave dallas triumphant ,crumpled, bothered by the vindictive reays. a flyover of monstropous proportion. roads sticking out every which way, like mechano, bumps and the planet of Z, I love you, seldom said , even less meant, I built my house in the sand, losing vital position to the harbringers and has-beens, as the battle for testicular supremacy rages, from now to the dark ages, a billion blown kisses, blowing through the quagmire of our wicked wishes, above a washed away house a half a man spitting out " I'm trying to understand, trying to make sense", my mum said when I was small, I used to come down stairs at night and ask where I'm going to go when I die ?, what happens when I die? I have vague memories of this, of thinking too hard, so hard you get in a fluster, because there is no answer, just a brick wall, being a brick wall. a crash course in the truth, takes the question out of the possibilities and into the affirmatives, blitzed, bussing it. blazing trail, sending out smoke signals, through the chimney in the van roof, I am chicken soup, don't boil, heat gently, tread carefully. the stricken wurzel of gummidge is hurting and his stomach , the blood sponge, is dry as israel, at some unspoken moment, we all must down tools and set sail, where we go we don't know, between being born and the crux. it's all hiccups. enjoy
-------the ribs down here are great, pork with huge globules of fat and skin attached.the mashed potato so fresh it still has dirt in it. the people a joy too meet. The distance we drive, would have taken weeks on a horse, couldn't contemplate it unless you knew where to get water, mexico smiles across the border, where have all the cowboys gone? mile upon mile of mesquite, no houses, no telegraph poles, no other cars on the road, no nothing. eventually jagged mountains and the sprawl of el paso looms. a great swath of shacks and corrugated iron , stretching into the dusk, waiting. unaware of the knights that say "fuck me", bearing down on it. let's joust, el paso. let's stand and stare at each other, frothing at the lips.
--------later----o.k so i guess twenty people don't create much froth. seemingly not bucketloads. I frothed as much as i could but no fucker frothed back. still it was good to do the polar oppisite. after the madness of corgan.I like small crowds, feel more relaxed, do not shit twenty times before the show. we play different songs, 'here comes the suffering" "long time coming" the cover by marvin gaye i think,"the great unknown " and "allah" It's an eye opener, reality, we are not big in el paso, yet. It is a great city, no tall buildings, the venue, surrounded by stray cats, scared to come within ten feet of us. there is obviously natural selection going on here, some of them are so ragged and thin they can barely walk. the most raggedy bums i've seen in america, hovered by the railway tracks, grouped together round a crackpipe, like bridesmaids waiting to catch the flowers.
11:11 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Onwards and Backwards july 8th
--------and suddenly we have left saint louis, the venue arena style, watching the news in the dining area ,fox and cnn's coverage a joke, fox repeatedly showing a piece on the high tech gadgetry at the american terrorist prevention centre in miami, recovering, skateboarding outside, I will learn to kickflick again, having our best show of the tour, selling 75 cds. going to a previously unheard of level, twelve. remembering london, billly corgan says the thing to do is get on with life, that playing music is a sacred art and the best way to fight back, he too feels the effects of a jubilant crowd, it's good to be down south, where you are judged by your actions on stage rather than your haircut. a crowd outside cheering as we leave, our heads not fitting in the van door, and suddenly we have left saint louis.
-----in the back of the van, in the dark, stars and juggernauts whizzing by, all the windows wide open, owen driving ninety, bouncing about, thinking, trying to establish a motive for the crime. thrown by the suddenness, senselessness. I know this sort of thing happens in other parts of the world on a daily basis, just like it used to happen in northern ireland on a daily basis, but london felt safe from terrorism, there are so many different cultures living together, I used to cycle down carpenters road every day. through the heart of east london ,a barren lonely wasteland dotted with falling down buildings, squats and murky canals, past mountains of fridges, and scores of stolen cars, feverishly being ripped apart by half starved illegals. I sat on the motorway bridge and watched the sun set over a groggy east london, unchanged by time. Now it is all going to be the olympic village and stadiums. the last frontier will disappear, london will have to find a new dumping ground for it's carwrecks, fridges and bodies, it is going to transform the city, unfortunately the celebrations were cut short, but our spirit will not be cut short, I think i'm going to enter the marathon.
---------for some botched reason, groups of america's deluded hardcore christians have been campaigning and in some cases succeeding, in banning the teaching of evolution in schools, here's my version of events, a loser's guide to darwinism
"so began, the chronicles of man
this weak distorted thing
evil and all that jazz
came out of africa
so began, the travesty of man
egos with arms and legs
evil and all that jazz
came out of africa"
12:35 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Music Pales In significance July 8th
---------in essence, I forgot how to behave, the power of speech transcended me. such is mind alteration and its side affects. after chicago ,what else to do but celebrate. It is hard none the less for a night to pass without ugliness. its in our blood, jealousy, attrition and the need to win, I surprise myself with terrible thoughts, murder and discolouring, my tongue becomes my downfall, crashing down wave upon wave of distaste. I used to like drinking, it used to be my buddy, and then it became my evil friend. the parrot on my shoulder, squawking obscenities. I do my best to steer clear of it, but occasionally find myself wallowing in the mud of self deprication. drunk and belligerent, cracking jokes which only I understand, and at which only I laugh. It's hard to know where you fit in sometimes. How to operate in a sea of faces, hard to make so you don't try to be the most seen face in the sea of faces. drinking is not good. it makes me angry, leaves my dark side wide open like a fleshwound . I smash things, throw things, hate things. get caught on an empty stomach, and its curtains. I will not drink, I will not drink, I hate you all, pass me the hammer and nails, taxi for my dignity, I'm going back into the bar, keep me covered
--------whatever happens in the future, its eight shows in a row right now ,batten down the hatches, in the blistering heat our van now supports several ecosystems, and many previously unidentified new species, national geographic would freak out, we'd make the front cover .Onstage tonight I wrestle with the power, feel like the stage is a swamp and i'm sinking. talk and the crowd shouts "cant hear you" , struggle to make myself heard, I used to talk in a high pitched excited manner between songs, now I try and stay calm, keep it low and normal, breathe deep, it's chicago, don't pronounce the second G, I couldnt help thinking of gerrys daughter onstage, how she had the guts to do what i've been talking about all my life, all talk ,no action. dont look side ways until you've reached the end, trust no-one, least of all your friends, if only I had the balls I wouldn't have to deal with my own inadaquacies on a daily basis. difficult to fathom what was going through her mind, when she had only ever seen her small community, nineteen summer's and the truth, only failed in her own eyes. and here am I , living a life most only dream of, strangely unsatisfied, being sick outside the van in my boxer's at four in the morning, the police stop to ask what i'm doing. great
--------woken up by joe at eight, and hear the most awful news, someone's finally answered the no-brainer. They've bombed london, where we are lucky enough to live. frantic phonecalls and our loved ones are shaken but safe. Feel inadaquate, unable to help. Angry. revengeful, Wish i was there, It is terrible to say it was inevitable, but I lived by walthomstow reservoir for several years and couldn't understand how someone didn't dump a truckload of cyanide in there, no-one would ever have noticed, I used to break in all the time and sit by the water, the fucking tapwater. We all knew something was coming, just hoped it would not be so grim, this is the worst that could happen.Life had been sweet talk in bluebell woods. Now it's fucking war of the worlds, in our own back yard. No-one's gonna want to leave their homes. It will split the country. People are too stupid not too equate every muslim with terrorism. all the years of intigration down the drain. as we drive through the cornfields of iowa, it is hard to envisage the panic, confusion. How could anyone be so stupid ? so selfish? what the hell is going on? Who gave permission for this?
2:25 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Teenager kicks Anything That Doesn't Agree with It july 5th
------in the morning before we left the carpark, gerry gave me a photo of him on his harley, in his younger days. pre-crash, I'd been in his squalid room and seen how few posessions he had, so the idea of him giving me this old photo was something else. gerry's problems, like every other american rebel, is that he was brought up a staunch evangelical christian. what else can you do, having been fed claptrap all your life, but leave home at 14 and turn into a druggie or hooker or anything bad which your parents would never allow you. in certain parts of ireland you have the same shit, people brainwashing you from an early age. telling you how to live and who to love. you have two choices, either go along with them and join in the pathetic born again fest, or leave the family tree altogether. Rebel, change, fail. I believe in the basic principles of kindness and love and caring but the idea of someone coming along and making us all out of a handful of clay is hideous. the idea of spending your life worshipping this potter is out the window. he made everything. that means he made gays too, and gaybashers, and murderers and wife beating bastards. you couldn't make it up.
-------chicago eat your stuffed crust heart out. obscurity awaits, and I have never been there, its all to play for and all I can think about,. we are in Billy's home town tomorrow and are worried for our reception, sleeping on the shores of lake michigan, in a marina carpark, the rain is back, the ghouls abundant, the cops drive by three times, and little do they know, quite literally .last year over 700 people died in america from boating related incidents over the fourth of july weekend, 15,000 people were injured in barbecue related incidents but thats another story .outside it sounds like the Qe2 is docking ,drunken folk return from their boatrips in the dark, beddecked in bin-liners and running to the safety of the Stray dog, a strangely imaginative name for an american bar, earlier we drank there, surrounded by suntanned fratboys, necking shots in celebration of their young and confused nation, something makes me wish I was still in canada, back on the safety of gerrys porch. america is only a teenager, and we all know what difficult, self obsesses idiots teenagers can be. in fact most of us still are teenagers.
1:57 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos -
Sunday, July 03, 2005
In The Beautiful Neighbourhood july4th
-------------through tears of frustration, and touches of genius. we are here ,with absent conscience, at niagara,where we park in a run down car lot, oppisite a rooming house, full of ex-cons sitting on the porch, all the different folk from the neighbourhood come to stare at our r'v and the dirty strangers. I talk to them, tell them what we're doing. the guy from the church across the way tells us to move on. I make friends with one of the guys on the porch, covered in prison tats, gerry, he tells us not to worry about the guy from the church, he lives in the town but never goes down to the waterfall. I don't blame him, its tourist hell. my parents came here and now I have been here. I saw the water falling, and felt compelled to jump. later watch a fat kid learning to cycle, secretely video him, his mum and dad humongous, as he falls , the bike appears to be made of reinforced steel.iron girder stabilizers, his bum is so fat he is elevated two foot above the saddle, fucking idiot parents, that kids never gonna cycle anywhere. when he talks he sounds like cartman. I follow them home, discreetly ,curious, disbelieving, they live in a shit hole two bit house, its like the three bears.
------------the greatest fear is dissolution, kaput, not having music. breaking every bone in my body or going to prison. losing my voice, which has gone down an octave every year since i was twenty, screaming doesn't help. shouting drunken, on the drizzly trail. feels like a thousand poppers, popping, in a way we take it too seriously, I can only have fun if it involves my band stepping up another rung on the indeterminable ladder. the concept of daily life becomes by and by.
--------sit out on gerry's porch all evening, talking shit, nailing down my hangover. with warm heiniken, him in his fifties, living alone in a boarding house, I see pictures of his harley, he has cut his biker babe's face out of all the photos. he crashed the bike, is full of wires and screws, hasn't worked since. his daughter jumped off niagara gorge, further down from the falls, over rocks where you definitely die, he found her himself a month later. the police tried to blame him but he wasn't charged. the police hadn't organised any search parties and he was looking for her himself, by the time he got there she was rotten,it was the middle of summer. she was a druggie, and they didn't take her missing seriously, the last time he saw her was when he dropped her off at rehab, his other daughter's still alive, he rang her to come meet this irish musician sitting on his porch, old gerry told me stories of his biker days as the midgets feasted and in the distance fourth of july fireworks went off. of course I was in canada, and gerry wasn't impressed, I sat there listening to him talk about that month he spent searching for his daughter, it was strange for him to tell me all this, just because we had randomly parked the r'v in front of his house, I guess I was just lucky, but it was good to know what happened, dodged the tourist trap, saw the dark side of canada, thank you canada.
10:46 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Saturday, July 02, 2005
On a Rainy Night in Soho july 2nd
-------i first got a guitar when i was 17 ,just before i moved to wales, I'd never wanted to be a guitarist or even in a band. I suppose when i first left home, i longed for ireland, and turned to the guitar for comfort, at first i never used a plectrum, but hit the bastard thing with my hand, a knack i have found hard to iron out .i wrote songs, at first basically irish folk music. I had real difficukties with having to attend my course, coldnt face being ordered about. i organised a gig on my own.i filled the place with everyone i knew and barely knew. that night I discovered I could shake my leg in a sort of elvis on speed motion, a star was born. i left college immediately and set about a path to glory, so began almost 10 years in the sewers. its the tenth anniversray of my music career this year,ten years since the first gigs and release of" stuff your cherry pie", the first acoustic album .its taken me ten years to find a style of music which says what i want. to find a lyrical place others cannot touch. i suppose ive learnt a lot in those ten years, but i havent changed a lot, for christ sake I still look about twelve. its good to be conquering a new land, to have a second chance, in another ten years maybe i'll be safely retired, singing irish folk songs again ,in dunquin, out on the dingle peninsula, or maybe ill be six foot under, shit musicians die too you know.
--------stepped out of the bus in toronto, bought weed off a bum, the story of my life. I am addicted to weed, in the same way some people are to heroin. I'm not gonna die in a squat with a needle in my arm,. Its a slow and somewhat dazed death. It's a fucker, I've finally got to the point where I don't wanna smoke anymore, and if I stop for more than an hour I turn into adolf hitler meets thor. I can't pick my guitar up . I can't make a phonecall. I can't sit down. I know it's ridiculous but it's true, so help me " shane magowan".
--------I first toured with him when i was 19, and it opened my eyes to the world. A young, well brought up irishman, oblivious to wickedness . knifefights, tamazapan, unwashed bodies, headaches, I've got a solitary burst blood vessel on my eye as a badge of that tour. he like billy is about eight foot tall. He boxed a woman once, and tried to cut his finger off. he was all there. I fell in love, and have blundered in his shadow ever since
12:35 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
Thursday, June 30, 2005
The Importance of Being Honest june 30th
-----For the first time last night it felt like muddy waters,it could have been 1952 or 1977, it felt true and clear, a direct channel from stage to audience ,so often after a show you forget all about it, these two nights in n.y I just wanna remember, take it all in. all the gays, the wierd old people in flourescent pink,the puppy dogs, pigeon crackhead bastards, regina came and said listening to herself on our intro made her feel like she wasn't wearing a skirt .walking up and down steps in the old, old place .a receptive crowd in a capital city, no longer extinct ,drunks shouting in tongues unknown ,bag ladies bent double, one and all looking their best, half cut, eating a burger on the street, sat beside an unconscious young man, twisted in jagged sleep ,a three week beard barely covering his cheeks, Noise everywhere, jumping in and out of taxis, quiet now, finished, stood once more on the hotel roof,watching my butt sail down seven stories, wanting to feel whole, wanting to feel complete, There are a million more miles to go before forgiveness, lets hope most of them are in first class
------we've all got problems from every angle, who governs dilemma ? It seems every move you try to make is thwarted by some minor tragedy or total fuck up. every time you try to walk, someone cuts your fucking leg off , and watches you laughing as you spin in circles. powerless and fuming. its tricky when things don't go your own way. you have to remember there are millions of others in way worse situations, but somehow we are programmed to believe our own problems are the most important. This is selfishness, or rather self- enthusiasm. it is a vain person who submerges themselves in their own woes. take what you are given and be glad of it. kindness is missing these days. it went out with george fornby. can everyone on earth just take a deep breath, and try being nice for once.
------somewhere in a derelict carpark ,underneath a high rise of all place's in this empty country .rain still pummelling the r.v roof, air bed hell, people screaming outside, pulling handbrakes, us locking the windows, who would be out on a night like this and screaming with such fervour. us glad of the rain and its wetting of subversive elements. listening to the recordings of new york, aghast at our shortcomings, watching "dig" and balking at the similarities. reading the native indians newspapers, each tribe has its daily news. it seems like mostly they are pissing and drugging and sinning themselves into obscurity like the rest of us. just like the tinkers and the abo's and every other late comer to our ridiculous cultures, they don't mix with alcohol or drugs , and thats about the only thing they've got to mix with. its not all bad news though, they are taking everyone to court possible, in efforts to win compensation for fishing, land and mineral rights, they are a proud people pushed under the carpet by greedy america, with a penchant for alcohol fuelled by the hopelessness of living off the crumbs alloted them. if only we had the initial foresight to leave them be in the first place, maybe I wouldn't be reading their newspapers, maybe the entire north americas would be declared a worldwide sit of scientific value, and indians could only be studied by air. the rio grande would be the great wall of china of the 21st century, david attenbrough could do a whole series.
9:01 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
The Meeting of the Waters june28
-------So i ambushed him, armed with my book, and a tied tongue. He was really nice and not intimadating.He likes our record, and its such a fucking relief. even his body guard was nice.I wasn't losing sleep, but i was beginning to feel like a spare rib. Later on he wished us luck, just before we went on stage. last time we were in new york at the bowery, it was hellish. the crowd , aloof and downright rude,but last night was like playing glasgow. it was amazing. We ended up in the mars bar, like i promised we wouldn't, and it was pissing it down, raining on my pizza as i walked home. Raining on my feet when I stuck them out the hotel window, raining on my heart when i ripped it out and pitched it off the roof, bouncing off the clock on the empire state
-------meeting mothers and daughters, on holiday from smalltown america, convincing them to give up their shitty musical and see us instead, drinking ginger tea, throwing wobblers at my label, washing clothes in the sink. eating shnitzels, in the city of wireless, skateboarding 20 blocks to get my weed, down the middle of the street, cars beeping, police man in golf cart shouting, more rain, and heavy air. Everyface you can imagine and all of them talking at you, Bums at the bus window, night of the living dead, kids outside the venue, sharing my icecream , a 4 litre tub, its thundering now, and we are readying for action once more. sticking myself back together with superglue. sharpening my sword.
2:47 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Sunday, June 26, 2005
It's Like Falling off Everest, Hitting every Yeti on the Way Down 26june
---------philadelphia, was everything you dream of, 2500 silent people. listening to your every word. came off stage five years younger, argued with the bouncers for half an hour because i didn't have a stamp on my hand and i was in the over 21s section. feel demented . watch billy and co from the v.i.p section, where I have been forced to find refuge from the meatheads.
---------I have to be honest I still haven't met him. I guess i'm a bit of a scaredy cat. Well he's pretty scary to be honester. I've got five weeks to bump into him in the corridor. I once shaved my head for a year and a half, everyday, with a gillete triple, the first time i did it was like hammer horror. bloodfest. my head didn't suit it, its all bumpy, with a huge hanging shelf at the back ( extra brains ) but i think billy's is natural, I haven't noticed him walking around with a head covered in shaving foam.
---------surviving the long drives and heat, my bed has a rubber mattress, so if you sweat too much, you start too float. the fruit diet is beginning to work, I feel less sludgy. less about to murder . i writ some songs, and one of them could be "it", I've been searching for "it" since i was 18. Full bore .every waking minute.write, write, you never know when teen spirit is going to come along, the new song is called "its all downhill once you reach the seventh grade" I know "seventh grade" is a u.s term and i'm irish but it sounds better than "sixth class". last tour i got addicted to nyquil and lost my powers of communication. This time i'm determined to remain sane. Walked into the middle of a forest last night. Smoked, Heard noises, something alive. Hair on end, hear breathing, run, run, crashing through the trees. legs scratched, back to the van. tripping over gandi. lie down. take deep breaths to stop my heart pounding. watch a freeloading cockroach , crawling up and down my curtain at 100 miles an hour. ready to bite my fucking leg off. call in the stealth bombers, there's a bogey,
----------- wake up beside the hudson river. so glad to back in new york now. its gay pride and boiling hot, a lethal combination. I wintered here this year, finishing the record, and loved the snow and cold and madness in the air. all the crazies for thousands of miles on one tiny island. People smile and say hallo on the street here, something that has long since vanished in london. I stayed in chelsea, right in the heart of the gay community, loved the attention. every morning 50 gay men dong the splits in the gym outside my window. Its great to be back in new york, but ultimately it's all about performing over the next two nights, being fully ready,and making sure I don't hold anything back. the mars bar will have to wait til wednesday, the webster hall will feel my wrath, it's like falling off everest hitting every yeti on the way down, the webster has to be taken down to chinatown, and I have to take it there. break out the prawn crackers, bring out the dead, new york be prepared.
8:21 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment
Friday, June 24, 2005
Heads in the Shed ,Bodies in the Land of Z june23
--------it's a full moon tonight. The closest to the earth since 1983 ,and this is never a good time for me. I equate full moons with past Iunacy I have commited .So remain sober. Skating at wal-mart at 4a.m whilst the lads buy a fucking air-bed. everyone in my family got a wal-mart rabbit fur hunting cap for christmas, and two of them are vegetarian. tonight i feel lucky and this is a strange precipe to be stood upon. it's like the waltons in our van, something at the end of my legs stinks.Eight people are snoring with drunken conviction. i"ve just played with rock royalty. now i'm sleeping in a wal-mart car park
-------billy corgan is something else. onstage he reminds me of the opera singer in the 5th element. eight foot tall and other worldy. when he got the crowd to sing the words " we can't change the world'' that really appealed to me. this man is a true king of the the darkside and i intend to be his disciple. Last night beggared belief, it was hysteria, and somehow we managed to glean a sliver for ourselves
---------in between this tour and the last I ran off into the Wicklow mountains for a few days. Over Mullachleevaun, down Barnacullia, through the bog to Tonalagee .Up to my oxters in mud , camped by lough Tay, didn't bring enough clothes. Froze, wrapped up in newspaper, quite frightened on my own , ate five packs of tayto crisps, made tea, a bonfire in my lungs. still froze, fell asleep when the sun came up. then next day past old mines and monastries. Saw countless deer, a dead fox. then on top of Scarr mountain, a ewe and newly born lamb, still attached. all the hills and trails I walked as a kid. past lough dan, over Djouce and War hill, then blisters, wet feet, finally the military road, The great sprawl of Dublin in the distance ,a solitary icecream van at the viewing point. my first human in two days .A kosavan with no english.In the great tradition of Scott and Sheperton, phoned my mum to collect me. picked her a bunch of bog cotton as i waited. Was reminded why the yanks so yearn for ireland, it truly is a place of magic .the longer i'm away from it, the more i hunger for it.
-----------when they aren't going on about how much they miss ireland, the americans are drink driving, they love it, have no qualms .its like the fourth national sport, baseball, football, basketball and knocking over mailboxes. many times we've somehow ended up being driven around some city, late at night by drunks. once the cops stopped us for the car being overloaded, but failed to arrest our driver who was both drunk and a muslim with a big beard,I was surprised they didn't administer the death sentence there and then, it must have been doughnut o'clock.
10:13 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Someone Who Stops To Help Others ,Never Gets there on TIME 21june
-------I know you aren't supposed to drink alone, but I couldn't sleep,in the van last night and wandered over to the banks of the missisipi . Watching massive tankers sail by.the lights of new orleans, and the odd scabby faced hobo gunning for my wine. I stuck my feet in,skimmed a few stones and wondered how many fish there were out there, and whether they were asleep, and what they'd look like if they were all piled up beside me now
------The americans love leaving old bangers/fridges/rubbish in their front yards, just like tinkers.I'm fascinated by tinkers. They are the last real non conformists in western europe, They don't pay taxes ,electric,parking fines, fuck all. they live outside every system ( except social service benifits ). My friend recently filmed a tinker wedding for a documentary, it was the brides 16th birthday and she was meeting her groom for the first time. She flew from ireland to u.k on the morning of her wedding. Only the mormons get away with this sort of stuff .I have some tinkers living near me in camden. They've just been investigated for a 450'000 benifit scam, but they got away with it. Camden is full of every breed of low life scum you can imagine, but no-one dares fuck with these tinkers, they are a law unto themselves and long may they continue to be so.
-------I was in a shop buying a phonecard and this stranger behind me in the qeue says "hey i can get you two of those cards for the price of one'. then he starts telling the shop assistant there's a 2 for 1 deal on this $10 dollarcard. over and over again, eventually the assistant gave me two cards . I thought this guy is being pretty friendly ,I may aswell ask ,if he can get me some weed. He told me to meet him in the square at six, I was pretty suspicious when i got to the square as it was full of tourists , but then i saw my man, and he was sitting behind a fancy table reading fortunes. He had conned the shop assistant with mental trickery, and got me some weed. An incredibly nice man. I put him and his wife on the guestlist but wouldn't let him read my tarots. I know my own future.
--------atlanta bound.Cracker barrel eat your heart out .Its only the fifth show on this tour, and i can barely talk.Feel like i'm on borrowed time . I have only my own music as a focal point. It's pretty wierd basing your whole life around promoting yourself and how great you supposedly are. I always wanted to be a nurse, or a paramedic . Something which does some good in the world, though it's hard to imagine living without music.it's got me by the balls, and it's all or nothing. Madison square gardens or the missisipi river.
5:20 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
Monday, June 20, 2005
Where Will I Go When I Die 20june
-------------the keane dates are over now.It was great playing with keane and regina.A substance over style tour. Now we are off to play new orleans alone. the heat hasn't gone away you know .I ve been wearing shorts on the days off and sandals, but I can't bring myself to wear them on a gig day.The clash or the beatles never wore shorts, only limp bizkit and the like do it publicly and that says it all. Shorts and sandles dispel the rock and roll myth
-------before a gig, I don't eat anything for a few hours, do a bit of stretching, have eight cups of coffee, clear my throat, put super glue all over my fingers, raise my heckles in the mirror ,then think about my childhood, before i learned how shit the world is. We warm up our vocals, and I listen to my brothers music, have a quick smoke on the way to the stage, and hope to god they like you .On these keane shows the crowd reaction is huge .I keep smiling, because i'm so happy with their reaction, but fear smiling doesn't suit the music, so I have introduced thinking about the dead into my warm up routine. This helps me be glad to be alive and makes sure I don't waste however much time i've got left. It also stops me from smiling onstage.
-------luckily regina specktor agreed to read our intro, we recorded her talking on owens computer last night after the gig. the intro is written to be spoken by a woman, then when the band starts I answer her from the stage, am I making sense?. For those interested, the full transcript of our intro to the set for the billy corgan tour as read by regina is
'''If you sit there and think,
Who am I ? how did i get here? what is going to happen when i die ?
you can scare the hell out of yourself,
For all our science and philosophy,
nobody actually knows what happens after the last gasp
where we go ? or what we become ? after the last gasp.
All of a sudden i find myself hurtling through space, with only the taste of your lips as evidence,
that i once battled against your chronic indifference,
when we couldn't go the distance , I was left crippled,
you lose some, you get thrashed in some,
the bruises became uniform, the leather belt worn,
I struggle to think of a beastlier beast than the beast you became upon crossing sword with the use of stimulants,,
driven only by the herculian desire to fill your body with anything which helps you forget its a body in the first place,
haunted by the uncontrollable urge to have sex ,
for which i sometimes fear the only cure is castration or murder,
but you were still my colditz, I still your truckstop whore,
if this is it ? ,if this is all there is ?
I don't wanna play anymore.
Beneath a searing bookend of the earths reptilious skin, we painted a picasso of gore
the rocks below ,soften our fall
we take no prisoners, leave nothing only ghosts,
creeping down the silk road, from the third world to the fucked up world
kill everything that moves
yes I was a fool ,and yes you were a fool
but who can name a penny that has not been in the pocket of a fool''.
She read it really well, in a sort of russian /american smokers drawl. Hopefully we'll play some gigs together again in the future------went skating with a whole load of kids in dallas. got sunburnt but it was fun .Trying to jump over a bin, for about an hour. Small minds can amuse themselves easily. The local skaters couldn't understand a word I said and must have wondered who the old man was in their midst.
3:32 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Gonna Kill Someone june18
------ had a big night out with keane last night, drinking til the early hours, then going to the strippers. it almostt killed me, especially in the heat, europeans arent built for extreme heat, it's a sweatfest in our van, sharing beds, it;s fucking minging, i'm going to kill someone before this seven weeks is up, and it will probably be for sweating, on my pillow.....you have to try to think outside the box (mobile home) on these long tours, and remember that your own band members aren't your mortal enemy, coldplay are.
------trying to get regina spector to read some wierd stuff i've written, over our intro, so it sounds like she's talking at the start of oppisite ends and then i answer her, she has tentavily agreed to do it, although she did have heatsroke and had just been bitten by a mosquito which were attacking us during the gig .it was outdoors and we tore it apart. it was scary, but the floridians were in high spirits
----we made the intro the night before we came over here. 'its a sort of gregorian chant , nicked from faure's requim. its latin i think. i was singing it in my kitchen at ,about three in the morning, all this chanting. i almost found god
------ i cantbelieve that the fat, clinically dead meatheads they call police over here, are the descendants of the cowboys and sherrifs I romanticised about through my childhood. they are a disgrace to the legend of the wild west
-----we are driving to houston. its 1200 miles, though i think american miles are shorter. the van is being powered by our sweat. i am on a banana sandwich diet. chomping at the bit, stuck in the r.v. there is little relief from boredom. my valium supplier got sent to prison, and i'm not sure what i think of the real world yet.
6:12 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Leaving Bastard Bightly 12june
------went to my old aunt and uncles. one fat one thin, both heavy drinkers. in tower hamlets, a notoriously dangerous area of east london. near where I lived for way too long. and we drank and ate and talked shit, the universal language ,
------had a call at two in the morning to go on tour with keane in four days time, it was like being called up to war, except there was no war. just a massive rush to get to fort lauderdale intact and ready to play some shows .had to get my tooth fixed as it fell out a few weeks ago, playing the scala. Turned up late at the dentist and sweating, first time i had gone near one in years, he said my teeth were horrible and asked if i was a smoker, I fought back the tears as he got the drill out, and even bigger tears later when he got the bill out.Still my teeth are gleaming now and ready for america. it feels strange not too have a gaping hole in my mouth, but i can whistle again.
-------got a free skateboard from jagermeister and am absolutely loving it, reliving my youth , skating around camden and on our last u.s tour . Keep falling off, when i try to get fancy, but i've made lots of new friends, all under the age of ten. and even hooked up with my old skateboarding friend from school, and went for a skate around the euro tunnel thing in kings cross .So far no serious injuries, but i'm going to have to start wearing a box. i figure if i do break a leg/arm i'll still be able to sing( shout) , so we won't have to cancel any gigs, i just wont be able to do my spastic dancing.
------can't quite believe we're off to the states so soon. my sunburn from last time has only just gone brown.it really feels like it's there for the taking, we are coming together as a band,and are becoming a force. send in the light brigade. send in the light brigade.
6:09 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
From the Third World to the Fucked up World 9june
-----tripping over skagheads on the way to get the paper this morning. came across a gosling that had just been run over by a woman on a bicycle. her crying, said it wasn't her fault. her crying more, the gosling. A picasso of gore on the canal tow path. it's guts everywhere. I'm awake now. Goose for breakfast.
-------- still waiting for Bob Geldof to call about live aid. I grew up hearing the boomtown rats. joe our bass players, from zimbabwe and we have a song called "out of africa" . we are perfect for live aid ,Bob. if the western world ,really wants to help africa i think they should assasinate mugabe. Maybe invite him to the concert, and guillotine him as the grand finale, french revolution stylee.
------Playing in birmingham "jug of ale" last night, and it was proper old school.Andy didn't even fit on the stage. It was small time, and we loved it. came home and the big brother schmucks were flaunting it on the telly. Who allowed big brother?. I'm embarresed that i saw it, baffled that it exists
------I am a typical man that at any given time i am suffering from several ailments. right now thats ringworm, cut fingers and a sore throat. my voice goes down an octave annually. I really need to stop smoking. my dad's ,dad died from lung cancer, and I am doing my damdest. when i get angry thats when I smoke most, and i'm usually angry unless I smoke, so no chance then.
6:08 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment