So here I sit, one week after the final show. Christmas was fun, but fast. With 2008 on the immediate horizon, I have a lot to be excited about, and yet enough uncertainty to keep it from getting out of hand. Since I’m stoned, how about a little bit of reflection…
I miss my bunk on the bus. Last one on the left side; the one on the bottom. Hell, I miss the bus period. Our driver John and the other crew driver, Carl, who had just finished driving for The Killers and who told us stories like how the bus company was fined 500 pounds when Damien Rice washed a dish and spilled water onto MENA’s floor (when you use the sink on the bus, the water drains out onto the ground and at MENA there was a resulting fine). I miss the lounge where we played cards and argued over Boggle, the sandwiches that waited for us after the show and the fridge full of booze, even the Strongbow, but mostly I miss my bunk… oh and the crowes nest where I listened to Social D while everyone slept and thought crazy thoughts like I tend to when listening to Mike Ness.
I miss waking up to a new place everyday. “Is it raining or is it sunny?”, ”Are we near the town?” I miss rolling out of bed at like 10:30, only to get breakfast and then usually go back to bed for another hour or so. Waking up when I’d normally be still shovelling horse shit back home was quite a perk. I miss seeing the diehard fans, all smiles every day even though they made the trip on their own and usually by car, while I slept away in my bus. They are the people who make sure Quo can’t retire even if they wanted to.
I miss trying to figure out the maze that every venue offered, only to be met with a new one the next day. I miss dealing with a new security guard’s personality and then the feeling of finding our dressing room and seeing what it had to offer. ”Is it big?”, ”Is there a couch?”, “Is there more than one?” (In MENA we had a whole area to ourselves. Like 5 rooms, pimp couches, a perfect card table and a huge bathroom with showers) I miss hoping it had internet so I could write these blogs. I miss finding catering and rolling the dice that there would be something my picky-ass would enjoy and somehow there always was. Mmmmm breakfast. My favorite meal of the day… THOUGH I must say I couldn’t wait to get back home to eat some Bobby’s. Best breakfast in the ‘Ville…
I miss kickin it until lunch on the bus, pickin what movie to watch and whether I wanted one that I could nap to or one that would keep me up. Actually, instead, I miss waking up and exploring said new town and thus avoiding the aforementioned movie decision. I miss knowing it was 2pm, aka lunchtime, because Greg always ate lunch at 2pm sharp. I miss eating lunch with Francis everyday and realizing how much he enjoyed having B on tour with him. I miss OT returning from his walk and showing me the 800 photos he took of everywhere we went. I miss exploring the venue after lunch to see the view from just about every section and then locking myself in the bathroom, up until soundcheck, while I went through all my harmonies and the random new shit you will hear very soon…
I miss deciding whether I would start drinking before or after soundcheck. This usually depended on how well I’d behaved the day before and usually resulted in accepting that “Since I’m even thinking about it, must mean I need (want) one.” I miss loading our gear onto the stage and realizing that, in arenas, we had far less room on it than in halls… Fuckin kabuki… I miss taking the piss out of The Danny’s, Steen and Lloyd as we set up, while playing the same Em/D progression everyday, to be sure I still liked my guitar tone… Amazingly I always did. I then miss listening to T2’s which always needed tinkering (except on the last night!). I miss Francis’ being there to tell T2 his tone could be better and all the other lessons he shared with us during soundcheck. Fuck, I even miss B’s constant trilling. In actuality I should also clarify that most of the time it was The Danny’s, Steen and Lloyd taking the piss out of us, not the other way around…
I miss “choosing” what I wanted for dinner and being called Spiderman by Felix everyday. I only quoted “choosing” because, for my picky-ass, there was usually only one thing I would eat. If only I liked seafood… I miss listening to Greg customize his dinner order because he is even MORE picky than I, and I miss OT downing custard with the passion of a crack-head. While on the topic of food, I miss always having fruit salad available and that no matter how much I wished for it, Chicken Noodle was never the soup de jour…
I miss our pre-game. It always began with discovering what beer we’d been blessed with. Usually Carlsburg Export, Beck’s, Heineken, Wife Beater or Kronenburg. Set-time was 7:30 and OT wouldn’t drink until 7, T2 drank sometimes and sometimes not and I always liked to be on my third as we hit the stage. I miss watching DVDs to stoke ourselves. Most of the time it was ‘The Last Waltz’ but The Chili’s at Slane Castle got some reps in too… and Led Zeppelin. Either was always accompanied by T2 jammin along and the hilarity of OT, B and Greg fighting over cards. I miss OT always winning and the others seeking the consolation that it was good luck if they lost. I miss arguing over who had turned out the hottest between the cast members of ‘Full House’ and I miss everyone always in a hurry to get to the stage, only to wait there because T2’s watch was 2 minutes faster than Toot’s “official time” for the entire tour. I miss doing OT’s wrist stretches, worrying that the beer had made my hands too cold and our cheesy group hug that we did probably only because we figured we needed to do something together before hitting the stage. I miss Francis telling us that we’d watched too many movies everytime we did it (which was every night) and then I miss Francis hiding in the shadows somewhere so he could catch our first couple of numbers…
I miss rarely remembering much of any set. Though I do remember always being sort of bummed when we got to ‘Did You Ever…’ cause I knew another night was almost over. I miss B talking about shovelling shit and the part at the end of ‘Did You Ever…’ where I tried to excite the crowd, who always reacted better than I expected. I miss the end of our set, watching everyone battle for the best spot to see Quo and being greeted by Liz as we got back to our room. Always there to let us know how it went, but we already knew. I miss Greg telling us how Francis was behind the kabuki, messing with him while he drummed. I miss figuring out how to get to the concession without having to walk through the crowd and how we always somehow found the route as The Trews were playing on the house PA. I miss the discovery of whether we could bring bottles, had to use cups, or if booze was even allowed in the front area all together. I miss meeting the people who supported us and always forgetting my Sharpie…
I miss dinner. Our meals waiting patiently for us, just needing a short reheat. I miss hunting down the ketchup and all the random nonsense we talked as we ate it. Mostly to do with farting, clarting or what a male dog was called (seriously, what is the opposite of bitch?). I miss then deciding how to kill time before doing our meet and greet, at the end of the night. I miss catching a bit of Quo’s set as we packed our gear up, readying it to be loaded for the next show. Actually, I miss playing 2 shows in the same city because then we didn’t have to do shit with our gear. I miss being blown away every night by just how amazing Quo were, and by how their fans let them know this fact each and every show. I miss imagining it being the 70s and 80s, wondering how crazy this scene would have been then, and pondering what it must feel like to say that playing in Quo is all you know…
I miss my post show joint. The tiny little pinner we rolled after every show. Tiny only because the British treat pot like gold so getting ahold of a decent amount was tough and therefore reflected in the size of our rolls, which usually consisted of half weed and half hash because hash WAS easy to get lots of. I miss looking at how big the joint was and thinking at least its not 3/4’s tobacco like it would have been if someone else had rolled it. I miss watching T2 get anxious afterwards because we had to do another meet and greet. He would brush his teeth as if he was trying to scrub the filth off. I miss coming back to the dressing room and finding myself smack-dab in the middle of another card battle. It was either this, Greg doing a crossword or everyone watching the performance from that night and mentally noting what to do better the next. Gametape was the key to our steady improvement, hands down…
I miss dressing rooms where we had a speaker to listen to Quo’s set. Even better was when there was a speaker in the bathroom because there was nothing more strange than Quo following me into there. I miss tagging every dressing room with a B & The North sticker and saving our beers from being stolen when the crew came to take our cooler. I miss knowing that “Whatever You Want” meant the encore was coming, “In The Army Now” meant the encore had started, “Rockin’ All Over The World” meant grab my Sharpie, a beer and head back to concession AND “Good-bye Johnny” meant I was LATE…
I miss the everyday pattern of the post-show signing. The first people were the ones just trying to beat the rush, then came the people who would stare and recognize us, but were too affraid to say anything. They were followed by the one’s who would commend our efforts, saying it in close and quietly, almost as if they were scared someone else would hear. Then came the first people to buy an album, ask for an autograph, or start some sort of conversation. These were the people who got the ball rolling every night. Once others saw that we didn’t bite, it always got fun. I miss places like MENA where the security feared for our lives and couldn’t believe that we would just hang around in public. I DON’T miss the venues where the security were dickheads to kind people that just wanted a quick photo or to say hi. These same dickheads who would then ask B for a photo afterwards…
I miss watching the crew work miracles before heading back to the bus. The coolest performance at any show is watching how quickly it all gets packed away when its over. I miss getting back to the bus and hoping there was a ham and cheese sandwich still left. Chicken salad was always a solid plan B. Anything with horseradish, tomatoes, brown sauce or Branston pickels… not so much. Maybe some tuna if I was DESPERATE…
I miss waiting for the crew to finish their work so we could roll out and get the bus-party going. Sometimes it went all night, sometimes just a couple of hours, but it was always the best way to end a good day. I miss the nights when everyone checked out early and I was left with the entire bus to myself. The alone time I used to write blogs, make videos, or listen to music and reflect. Reflecting like I am this second. I miss figuring out how many days and shows were left to go, and then being bummed because it was never enough. Well shit, now there are none left and that realization constantly reminds me of what I miss, maybe the most…. Going to sleep, fully aware that tomorrow I was doing it all over again.
Thanks to everyone who read these blogs and enjoyed reading them as much as I did writing them…