06.03.11 - 04:42pm
Yeah Holland was good thanks. Usual feeling of stumbling out of the back of the wardrobe and into into Free Europe where more or less everything seems to run smoothly and you suddenly feel like you’ve got more space to your left and right and up above. They put us up in an incongruous former embassy in the posh bit of Den Haag where there was a synth factory upstairs and a radio station downstairs and Charlie Shitcluster just happened to be there at 3AM when we stumbled in for our free, sludgey vinyl and a way-too-tired chat. Groet Pyr venue was amazing – look at the pictures. Dave’s MOBILE THREAT DISCO was effective and people danced – ditto. Kassen matey was really good. First thing I’d seen in a while that had the genuine what-the-shitting-Dickens factor, and the added subtley of being conflicted by cleverness/simplicity and sort of future-retro at the same time. Sounds a bit wank when I put it like that but dude was projecting himself coding a musical sequence on his laptop (you know, typing sound), editing and elaborating, and then adding a parallel visual element. He also had great hair. I was alright – bit shit but generally acquitted myself and also worked on my visual parallels cos the PA sucked oliebols. Wout, the larger and hairier half of the promotional team summed it up by saying that it seemed to lack any bass dimension or a corresponding section at the other end of the spectrum where one might want to find “twinkly highs”. Anyway cool place and a good night. Dave talked to legendary Bunker supremo Guy about every fucking esoteric headfuck for about 2 hours while I sat on the edge of the stage and stared at the social mess. Jo talked to a comically drunk artist who had just sold a painting. Eventually we tried to leave and then I started selling merch in weird combinations like pairs of 7”s and pairs of 12”s. CDs are definitely for tipsy laypersons and goodwill gifts only these days, but don’t quote me on that.
Not going to talk about whole trip but earlier in the day a weird thing had happened when we got to Brussels and in spite of not knowing what he looks like and it being the wrong country on the wrong day (Friday and Belgium rather than Saturday and Holland) I suddenly had a strong sense that the flamboyant older dude next to us on the platform must be Charlemagne Palestine. Just as I was telling myself this didn’t really stand up to scrutiny probability-wise I scanned his luggage and saw his surname on his large red suitcase. Then we had to sit next to him and Mrs Palestine all the way to The Hague pretending they were strangers on a train, and then be introduced etc the following night in Rotterdam. In fact, the bastard came and sat at my feet on the low stage when I went on at about 2.45AM, freaking the fuck out (me, this is) after being awake for most of 3 days. Worst thing was I had a ton of drinks vouchers and they had Orval at the bar but I had to keep myself together to play at such an inhumane time for UK alcoholics. And then when only one monitor worked and my vocals were far too loud on the insanely decent sound system CP and others in the audience offered comprehensive advice about what was lacking, the need for specific auditory alterations and so forth. Good job I have plentiful experience of public shame under stage-lighting.
Right, might just post this now and add more and edit it later. My ex-missus is cooking us tea on Midsummer Common. Will post more pix later.