Above -Members of the band sitting by "the best jukebox in England"
PART SIX
PART SIX
Monday - London (again):
We do the "Live at Noon" show for BBC Greater London Radio. It is kind of exciting entering into that pantheon of performers who have done this since the birth of rock and roll. I think I caught a glimpse of Keith Moon in the halls.
The show tonight is at the 12 Bar in Soho. It is the smallest club in the world. And one of the coolest. When it was a rehearsal space the Sex Pistols used to practice there. I think I saw Sid Vicious hanging about smoking ciggys in the back of the room during our soundcheck.
The stage is so small we consider putting Rodney and his considerable organ on the floor. John thinks this will look stupid. As opposed to me sitting on Chris' shoulders - which is the only other way to fit all four of us up there. Basic physics is defied and we successfully warp the time-space continuum to conform to our specific needs - we all fit -without having to call on the skills developed when we were all tumblers for the Carnival. Cheap Carney Trash, that's us in a nutshell.
We have a great crowd. An improvement
over the not unrespectable crowd we had last week at the Underworld. I
think the BBC show brought some folks in. And the stories of our week surely
trickled down from up North. People have started to understand that the
addition of Chris has helped re-shape Jolene as, not only a fine rock and
roll band, but as truly challenging performance art as well. The things
he was doing with loops and sound effects were inspired. Especially the
rebel-yell, party-whoop that he would spike in between songs. A nice touch.
We waited in vain throughout the whole tour for his alter-ego Gandalf St.
Clair to make an appearance but he was a no-show. No gorilla suit either.
Tuesday - Nottingham:
Off North again. To Nottingham. One of the coolest, hippest, youngest towns in England. Two major Universities and the promise of the huge college scene there had us very optimistic about the show at the Maze.
We were amused on our arrival to see that the Connells were scheduled to support us. Which is funny for two reasons. First, they had a huge hit in Europe with "'74-'75", so the idea of us headlining over them is absurd. Second, the confusion certainly arose from when the tour was in its early stages. Mike Connell was going to come over and play solo in support of the shows. Which is also absurd to think that we ever truly believed Mike would actually do it. Mike and I have been friends for nearly twenty years and the idea of him coming over and scrapping and scraping his way through a low-budget tour like this, playing solo, is comical. Can't wait to show him the flyer.
One of the greatest things about this tour was finding other members of "the tribe". I've mentioned this before. What I am referring to is the very small group of people out there who are doing all of this for the right reasons. Whether you're in a band, a promoter, a DJ, a journalist, an actor, an A&R person (this is a stretch I know), a writer, or whatever - the tribe consists of those of you who are doing whatever it is you are doing because you have been called to do it. Because you love it. Not because you want to be rich, or a star, or because you need love and recognition. I'm talking about the people who are giving it out, not taking it in. Creating, not consuming. This is the tribe.
Anyway, we met two more members
of the tribe in Nottingham. Rob and Victoria who were two of the promoters
on the show. A great pair these two. Within two minutes of entering the
club Rob (another Scot) and I bonded on our love of Jimmy Webb and Raymond
Chandler. After the show they took us home and fed us tea and whiskey and
Swedish buns and showed us the caves in their back garden where Robin Hood
and the IRA used to hide weapons.
Wednesday - Loughborough:
After lunch in Nottingham at the oldest pub in England ("A Trip to Jerusalem" (1100's?) we drove down to Loughborough and the "Three Nuns". We had our worries about this one. We were to play right after the second leg of the England-Scotland qualifier and so, of course, had visions of rip-roaringly drunk football fans punting empty cans of Red Bull at us. As it turned out it was one of our favorite shows. It was one of those times when no one could give a toss when you first start playing and then you gradually win them over. This is always good for the ego. It didn't hurt that Mick turned up from Leicester and Rob and Victoria drove down from Nottingham. And that the bartender was a total flirt.
Thursday - Oxford:
In Nottingham I told the sound man, Nigel, that I wanted to go see Nick Drake's grave which I knew was somewhere in between N'ham and Oxford (where our show was on Thursday). He drew me a map to the churchyard where he's buried in Tanworth-in-Arden. Being a massive fan and having just read the Nick Drake biography I was determined to make the pilgrimage. The other guys were up for it so we took the long way down to Oxford and stopped by.
It was a clear, cold, blustery day and as we walked into the churchyard we all immediately realized that that poor soul was resting exactly where he should be. It was a beautiful, quiet place underneath a huge oak, overlooking the Shropshire countryside. Perfect. And heartbreaking.
We had lunch in the pub across from the church. Inside they had a little shrine, with a photograph etc. of Nick. They all knew why we were there and seemed very proud of their favorite son.
We knew everyone at the Oxford show.
First and last names. A great band, 4 Stories, opened for us (as they did
at the 12 Bar earlier in the week) and they, along with a few friends,
made up the audience of 15. This was a reality check. We had to be reminded
that shows are occasionally poorly-attended. The shame was that it was
an excellent show. Captured on DAT, so not a total loss. Nick and Simon
from 4 Stories put us up and were the quintessential hosts. Thanks guys.
Shaun, the promoter, also gave me a bootleg tape of Nick Drake playing
in his bedroom at his boyhood home. That alone was worth the trip.
Friday - Coalville:
It wasn't really Coalville. That
was the closest town. Mick had a party at his pub and we played. This was
a good time. Tom and Gail came down from Glasgow and Matt and Simon came
down from Manchester. Lots of fun. I will also note that Mick's "Flying
Horse" pub has the best jukebox in England. It was Chris' last night with
us. He got stinkin' drunk.