Exciting times in Camp Laish. Saturday’s show in Wolverhampton was a joyous trip. The promoter Chris Brown had done an excellent job of encouraging large swathes of respectful, discerning and altogether attractive people down to the Newhampton Arts Centre. I’d like to think my online promotion would have helped, but I just checked my blog stats and I’m averaging about 2 hits a day, which are probably both me.
The trip was accompanied by Rory (OCDC) Dickenson on driving skills. He rather expertly manoeuvred the Previa from Brighton to Wolverhampton and back with his bare hands. I think he would have looked better in white gloves.
One particularly slow part of the journey involved getting around the M25 to the nearest services. Unfortunately that was about a 2 hour wait, while my bladder played tennis with my pain barrier. By the time we got to the services in a fairly generic part of Britain, I could barely walk. I waddled as fast as I could to the toilets, desperately hoping no one would accidentally bump into me or deliberately punch me in the stomach. I was planning to sit down for this occasion and have a private cubicle piss all to myself. Unfortunately the first two toilet seats I found were so riddled with urine, I had to resort to that slightly broken pose of head resting against the far wall, arms splayed in reckless pain/enjoyment. Austin Powers naturally sprang to my mind. I must have urinated over two litres. The relief was terrifying.
We watched in admiration as Amalie and the Kingdom of Jones did a lovely opening set. This was followed by the rather excellent Son of Kirk. With a similar line up to ourselves but a pleasingly different sound, we were treated to some folky rock loveliness.
I had been feeling a little shaky all day following a rather silly attempt by myself, Ben and Rory to visit all of the pubs in Brighton the previous evening. We only managed three and a house party but surprisingly it was enough to feel like a trampoline was being ripped apart by children in my chest.
I took to the stage with slightly trembling hands to sing the Animal Magic Tricks song that I am enjoying singing at the moment (there’s a video of me playing it in Cheltenham if you look up at the videos bit). My excellent band came on to join in and we kicked off a slow burn of a set.
The sound was excellent, the lights were beautiful, the set went well but I was still feeling a touch unnerved. I decided I had been too quiet for the duration and felt the need to tell the crowd my story concerning a weak bladder, and from that point onwards I think everyone relaxed a bit. But in the appropriate places.
We got one of those rare encores and decided to bosh out The Sleeper by The Leisure Society. Went down a treat and then Rory decided to hoof himself to the stage to make a last ditch bid to bully the crowd into buying cds. He did a good job and we sold loads of stuff.
We kidnapped the Son of Kirk lot back to our Travelodge and proceeded to jam the night away. At one point I became aware that Ben and Mike had disappeared. During chorus sections of songs, extra percussive noises could be heard from the dark bathroom. I assumed Ben and Mike were just, umm, well I don’t know what. We went to investigate and discovered the Laish rhythm section clad only in pants, sitting in a very small bath, drinking beer and looking like healthy young men with only good intentions.
Rory went to work with his camera. We had been aiming to get some good band photos. Now was our chance! Here’s my favourite.
The Son of Kirk lot, suddenly in a Travelodge in Wolverhampton by themselves at 3am, began to wonder what they were doing there and started to leave. On their way out they were greeted by this:
….and decided it was definitely time to make a move. Brighton does strange things to people, it seems.
Well we look forward to returning to Wolverhampton’s Arts Centre and Travelodge next time we’re on tour!
I’m saving the more embarrassing pictures for a day when I am short of cash.