Andy's Random Posts
One of the oddities of travel around Europe is that it can often be so much easier and cheaper to get to a city in another country than it is to travel within the UK. I mean, buying a train ticket to London for travel the same day can set you back £100 or more. That’s just the trip south, there’s the homeward leg to pay for as well. Flights and two nights in Krakow came in at another bargain, although it did mean that I was flying with Ryan Air and that I was due in to Krakow at 23:30. Ryan Air are the most basic of cheap airlines and the customer service can be shocking. So bad in my experience that I’ve begun to rethink my opinion of them. I suspect that they provide the level of service that they feel you pay for, and the flights were so very cheap, on the basis that passengers turn up expecting a far shoddier service than is actually delivered. Whilst it would be some achievement for their service to plunge to those depths, I find adopting this mindset helps whenever I’m forced to travel with them. So a delayed departure from Manchester wasn’t a surprise and didn’t leave me quite as grumpy as my previous experiences with them.
It may have 1:30am when I stepped out of my hotel, but Krakow old town was simply stunning. The old market square in the city centre was artfully illuminated and a peaceful walk was just what I needed after the trials of Ryan Air. Sadly, that wasn’t what I experienced as the pretty young girls promoting the local “clubs” homed in on the English guy wandering around alone. Despite declining their offers of “cheap drink and personal dancing” they persist in their efforts to lure you in to their club and by the time you escape the clutches of one lot of promoters you encounter another bunch from a different club to begin the whole process again. I managed to remain polite throughout and shook them off by ducking in to a karaoke bar for a couple of beers. Only beers; no karaoke for me as I couldn’t carry a tune if you gave me a bucket to put it in.
I spent the next day exploring the city a little more. Locate the gig venue first, it was literally 5 minutes’ walk away, then on to seek somewhere to eat later and locating the train station for the return trip to the airport. Some of the destinations available from the station were so interesting, with services direct to places such as Budapest and Zagreb. I noted that for future reference as SF had just played both of those cities and knowing that there are direct train links may prove useful if SF return to Europe again. I went on to explore more of the city and its medieval castle, it really is beautiful in the Old Town and it is so cheap in comparison to other cities.
Klub RE is situated down a side street, just off the market square. Descending a flight of stairs in to a cellar bar area I spotted a few posters announcing tonight’s show and earmarked them as potential swag for Charlie to pass around the club members. I’m sat enjoying a beer when in walks Mike who introduces me to Joe who is running the merch for the band. A nice bloke with a seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of the current British/Hardcore punk scene, I had seen Joe on last year’s tour as he played bass for Scrap Brain in support of SF. I was also introduced to Cyprian, the promoter, and I really cannot speak highly enough of this gentleman. I don’t know what had been said to him but for the entire evening he treated me as though I was a member of the band’s party, providing a bunch of posters for me to get signed and send to Charlie, and allowing me in to the sound check where I had a chance to chat to Joe and the band members. “Oh”, said Jarrett. “We have a present for you”. A little taken aback by this I watched as he delved in to a box and produced a drum skin that had been decorated by Marissa and signed by the band. To be honest I thought it was a tray at first but Jarrett set things right with a laugh by telling me that he’d needed a replacement and this was the old one. What can I say? I’ve often stated that the kindness of this band goes well beyond words and thank you just doesn’t seem repay their gesture.
I was pleasantly surprised to encounter a couple from London who had also flown in for the show. I can’t recall their names now, but Charlie, you should have two new members. SF entered the stage to a packed room and whipped up the enthusiastic crowd with a roaring set. Marissa meanwhile had some concern about her monitor, asking for more guitar. No idea what was bothering her as they continued in fine form and if the venue hadn’t been in a cellar then they would have blown the roof off in what was rapidly becoming one of my favourite ever SF shows. The crowd seemed to need no encouragement, throwing themselves around to each song and thoroughly enjoying themselves until the final crescendo as Marissa presented a startled youth with her guitar. Up on stage he went to jam along with Mike and Jarrett. As Joe has written elsewhere, it was indeed a great show to be at, show 1299 was an absolute banger. Marissa meanwhile wandered by still seeming a little concerned and asked “Could you hear my guitar? Was it loud enough?” Well, yes I could hear it and I can assure her that it was loud enough to rattle everyone’s fillings. Checkout my video here for a sample of the show, Joe makes an appearance taking photos from 01:30….
Things began to wind down as my sharpies were again put to good use at the merch stall and the band began to pack up. Marissa appeared looking a little bemused as she couldn’t find the case for her effect pedals. Turned out that the pedals and a few other items were in the case and it had gone missing. We scoured the room, Mike unloaded the van, we scoured the room again, but not a sign of them. The support band even checked their gear to ensure that it hadn’t been picked up by accident, but no joy. Whilst Marissa appeared fairly stoic, it certainly got to me that the kindness that SF have always shown me had been repaid by such a deed. Meanwhile events outside were providing a little light entertainment for some and a major embarrassment for me as one of my fellow countrymen emerged from a nearby bar, think it may have been called Little Britain and launched in to a foul mouthed tirade. He certainly wasn’t in rapture my dear, but he was clearly full of ale and in a rage regarding “Liam’s behaviour”, his face turning gammon pink as he made various threats while his companions endeavoured to calm him. They weren’t having much success as he continued to rant on and on. So the evening ended a little abruptly and on a sour note as the band cut their losses and drove off while I headed back to my hotel. I can only hope that show 1300 in Warsaw went better for them the following night.
Now to figure out how to get that drum skin home safely. I’m travelling with hand luggage and, wrapping it in a tee shirt for protection it just fits inside my bag. Removing it to pass through airport security drew a few quizzical looks but it went through without question. I’m on Ryan Air, so I’m obliged to place my bag beneath the seat in front and I have a rather edgy trip home with such valuable cargo by my feet.
A few weeks later Joe’s diaries appear on the fan club website. I am so, so pleased for Marissa to read that her pedals have been recovered and returned by Cyprian, and that after he had organised a fund raiser on behalf of the band. What an absolute hero that guy is.
Paris, allons y!
Having picked up a nice little online bargain I find myself on the Metro station at Charles De Gaulle airport on sunny February afternoon. A twenty minute ride deposits me at the Gare du Nord where I need to find the metro line to take me the Place de la Republique. Whilst I’ve been here before this station is huge, with a warren of metro tunnels as it’s a major hub, and it’s packed full of people which makes moving around a tad difficult. Just to make matters worse, why do they insist on turning these places in to shopping malls? Food and drink outlets I can understand, similarly somewhere for a book or magazine to read en route, but what circumstances arose to create demand for ladies’ lingerie and an “adult shop” in a train station? Clearly I’ve had a sheltered life and had some exceedingly dull train journeys.
Once free of the metro the city is a joy. I’ve been to Paris several times in the past but never alone and free to explore at leisure. Just like London it’s a fabulous place to wander around with its landmarks, architecture and the always appealing cafes and bistros. After whiling away an hour or so before check in, I fired up Google maps on the phone to navigate to the hotel. Now this wonder of the modern age is a boon and it soon had me at my accommodation for the night, but there are times when it can be so frustrating. Last summer I travelled to Athens in Greece to follow my local football club in the Europa League, and once again I put my faith in good old Google to find my digs. “Turn right on to Karaoli ke Dimitriou” instructed the charming lady on the navigation tool. Well I would if I could read the bloody street signs as they all looked like some equation Stephen Hawking may have created! On the subject of language studies, I was quite adept at French during my long distant school days but I always feel a little self-conscious when trying to use French to a native speaker. Anyone remember the old BBC sitcom “’Allo, ‘Allo” and the character Officer Crabtree? He was an Englishman who thought he could speak French, but did so extremely badly. “Good Moaning” was his catchphrase and they got away with some right lines on prime time family tv during the show’s run, such as “I was pissing outside and thought I would drip in…” Well, that’s how I always feel I must sound when trying to communicate to a French person in their own tongue.
I ventured out to find Supersonic, the venue for this evening’s free Screaming Females show, and unexpectedly found myself outside another venue. This was just around the corner and was one known to us all for far different reasons: The Bataclan. It was good to see that it was clearly back in use and staging a gig that night after the horror that unfolded there not too long ago. Another leisurely stroll takes me to the Place de la Bastille, site of the former prison which was stormed during the French Revolution with Supersonic, closed at this hour, located a short distance away. After settling in to a nearby café for a bite to eat a familiar face appears as Dominiek, a fellow fan from Belgium, waves through the window. We’d met up last September in London for SF’s final show of their UK tour and had enjoyed a few beers together. He’s accompanied by his friend, Jurgen, a first time Screamalino. Dominiek had done some admirable homework and promptly marched us off to the nearby Rue de Lappe with its numerous bars whilst we waited for the venue to open. That’s one to note should you be planning a trip to Paris.
Supersonic is a large, airy bar on two levels with a stage at one end, a small upper floor above the bar area and a large glass frontage looking out on to the street. The band were here already as the merch stall was set up and there were already quite a few people dotted around the bar. Charlie had supplied me with a stock of fan club pins and stickers which I began handing around, notably to one couple sat at a table who confirmed that they were there for the SF show. I spent the evening loitering around the merch stall, taking opportunity to grab a couple of tour shirts (one for Charlie!) and stock up on some of the State Champion releases that were available from Mike. As the opening act began the other SF members appeared and signed a few fliers I had left over from the UK tour in 2018 for me to send to Charlie, including one for Rachel in England, who at first didn’t believe that it was genuine! Such a small thought as asking Marissa to personalise the flier meant so much to her.
By now the bar was rapidly filling. The second act of the night, a French band called Off Models, were amazingly good but imagine my embarrassment when I saw that the couple I had handed Screamales stickers to were the singer and guitarist. Off Models were so impressive that I immediately bought their album as they arrived at the merch after their set, the singer forgiving my faux pas with the stickers with a laugh and a hug. I’ve met so many nice people at SF shows. You can check out Off Models at this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPWdgflSkPI and their album is available to download via Bandcamp.
Worshipers – Miz’ampli 2019 OFF MODELS Concert de sélection #2 du dispositif d’accompagnement Miz’ampli Espace Couthiol, Livron, le 22/03/2019 Réalisation : LCR vidéo
SF took the stage with Dominiek and Jurgen front and centre. I had found a decent vantage point nearer the merch, a handy ledge by the windows providing a great view. Mike had expressed a concern that tonight’s show may not be up to scratch as they might be a little rusty with this being the first night of the tour. Don’t believe a word of it as SF were their usual excellent selves and turned in an imperious performance, leaving Jurgen a confirmed Screamalino and me with a few concerns for my safety as that glass frontage was visibly vibrating in time to Mike’s bass. I remember the windows shuddering behind me to Wishing Well and Pretty OK as I stood on my ledge. There’s footage from the show available online at this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGao43Axj78
if you’d like a taste of the action, which, as always, was over way too soon. I always tend to hang around as I’m reluctant to leave an SF show and one thing I’ve learned is to always carry a sharpie or two. Plenty of people were eager to have merch signed by the band and lending them a pen is such an easy way to break the ice and get to know your fellow fans. It also enabled me to leave the band with a promise that I’d see them again later in the tour in Krakow, before I began the walk back to the hotel happy after another roaring Screamales show and having bidden farewell to Jurgen and Dominiek who were off to embark on extended Metallica tour during the summer.
The following morning I enjoyed another brief stroll around this magnificent city before heading back to the airport. Now getting here was a breeze, the proverbial piece of cake. Getting home didn’t go as smoothly. Using an automated check in point I was informed to speak to an Air France staff member. After a little Gallic frowning he asked how I had arrived in Paris. “By train, perhaps?” he inquired. Nope, I flew here, courtesy of your employers. Luckily I still had my outbound boarding pass, so after more digging he announced that my check in at Manchester wasn’t on their system and my ticket on the flight back was blocked. As a result my seat had been reallocated and they may have to bump me to a later flight if no seats were free. “What if you can’t get me home today?” I asked. “Then we book you into a hotel overnight at our expense” was the reply. Really? Any chance they could assume the worst and do that now? More Gallic frowning, “Mais non, Monsieur…..” It turned out that there was room on my original flight and I was home as planned, but no one could shed any light on how I ended up in this position. All must have been well in Manchester as I had scanned my eticket to pass through security and board the flight and the attendants were happy with the headcount. They even served me coffee in flight.
C’est la vie I suppose…….
Three countries, two continents and all for one band; 2018 has been quite a year so far and this has been a rather hectic week.
I really wanted to catch more of Screaming Females’ current visit and had been trying so hard to work out where and how I could take in more shows. I was having to work around other events that had already been arranged before the tour was announced and there was the obligation to show up for work at some point, so things weren’t straight forward. I had almost got a trip to Amsterdam figured out but scrapped the idea when the band announced their return to the UK in September. So it’s just the three shows for me on this visit to Europe but from my limited experience of Screaming Females they are currently in top notch form and each show has been an unmissable experience.
Reading Kristina’s posts I see that she met Charlie Harper of UK Subs at the Oslo show. Was that the bloke with green hair who was wearing a Screamales shirt? Knew I’d seen him somewhere before! Shame we couldn’t get him on stage for a rendition of Stranglehold. I also see that Jarrett’s been for a swim and I wonder if he fancies a dip at the UK’s highest beach later in the year? It can be arranged.
When the band returns to London in September there are some interesting photo opportunities to be had should they have time. Along the north side of St Paul’s Cathedral (you’ve all seen it, it’s the one with the dome) runs Paternoster Row, where you’ll also find Paternoster House and Paternoster Square. Much more interesting is The Paternoster pub, to be found on one of the alleys running north from the cathedral. Surely there’s a tee shirt in there, somewhere….
After returning to work for a couple of shifts over the weekend I was back in Manchester on Monday to see Echo And The Bunnymen, a band I’ve loved since my youth. They are currently touring to promote their new album which is due out in October. That may seem odd timing, but the release has been delayed. They are back touring the USA later this Summer with Violent Femmes.
Tuesday allowed me to return home, albeit briefly, to swap bags before walking back to the train station to head to Leeds. The Breeders were playing and I’d been looking forward to this show since seeing them in Manchester in October last year. Another tremendous gig, I enjoy how Kelley always has a smile, Kim seems to be on the verge of a collapse in to fits of laughter and Jo’s dry wit.
Wednesday began early, far too early, in a Leeds hotel. I took some solace from the knowledge that I could nap on the train to Manchester airport but that still doesn’t compensate for a 5am alarm. Then once at the airport there’s a question that has bugged me for years: is it too late or too early for a beer? The conclusion I came to some months ago was that if The Beastie Boys were prepared to fight for our right to party then there’s nothing wrong with me taking up arms 24×7. So I headed to the bar.
I’ve been to Germany many times in the past but this is my first trip to Hamburg, Germany’s second largest city. The flight is only 80 minutes and the transfer into the city is typical Germany efficiency. I wish I could say the same about the rest of journey with a four hour delay in departure from Manchester Airport. I was on the cusp of not travelling if there was further delay as I’d miss the show but fortunately we were on German soil by 7pm local time and a tweet from the band told me they were on stage at 10. My hotel was right by the Hauptbahnhof but stepping in to the street was a shock to the system as the sun was blazing down with temperatures reaching 30C during the day. A hasty check in and a wonderfully air conditioned cab to the venue followed.
I found the tour party gathered in a small area at the back of the room where the merch stall was set up. Within seconds of entering the room I realised that I was going nowhere near the stage that night. The venue was like a sauna and conditions must have been very uncomfortable on stage. Nevertheless Screaming Females delivered another scorching set; opening with Ripe backed up later by great renditions of Agnes Martin, It All Means Nothing and both parts of Chamber back to back; then going on to play several tracks I hadn’t heard at my previous gigs. Broken Neck, Normal, Rotten Apple, I Don’t Mind It and Extinction were all given an airing as I spent the show by the merch with Kristina. At least we could breathe and although they had sold out of tee shirts and pins earlier in the tour so it was cds and vinyl only, there was still a steady stream of sales.
This trip provided my first opportunity to chat properly with the various members. Other shows were too loud, too busy or there was a rush to pack up to stay on schedule, so it’s been really nice to meet everyone on more of a personal basis. Jarrett is now aware that there is the opportunity to swim at the UK’s highest beach, Marissa knows what we Brits call an eraser (eraser? I thought that was something to shave with), Mike has seen the Bunnymen play and knows to be wary of Aussie slang, and Kristina remains suspicious of bathroom doors. In return I have some wonderful memories, a batch of swag for Charlie to give away and tips on a few NJ bands to investigate. Mike, Jarrett, Marissa and Kristina, I really can’t thank you all enough, you wonderful people.
I wasn’t due to fly home until the following evening so had a pleasant day exploring Hamburg. I like Germany, the beer’s good, the food doesn’t give you the trots, the public transport is excellent and if you are really stuck most people speak some English. What must not go unmentioned though are the ice cream parlours. Germany excels on this front and I couldn’t resist indulging myself at the appropriately named Glace Haus as the temperature again soared to a scorching 30C. Unfortunately though there were violent thunder storms over the rest of the country leading another delay in departure from the airport. Only an hour this time and I was back in Blighty in time to get home on the train.
That’s it then, excitement almost over. All I have to look forward to now is the football on 7th June as England warm up for the World Cup by playing Panama in Leeds on my birthday, and then it’s time to see old Johnny boy as Public image Limited play Manchester on the 16th.
That is until the September tour of course, when it appears that I’m going to have a visitor….
I’m just home from London and being English, I put the kettle on. Then, because I’m a philistine, I add milk and sugar to the Earl Grey. It’s tea, it’s how I like it and it’s time to sit in the sun reflecting on yesterday.
Home is a small market town called Todmorden, which sits at the head of the Calder Valley, high in the Pennine Hills of northern England. It seems pretty unremarkable place until I start thinking of its history. Birth place of Keith Emerson and John Helliwell (saxophonist in Supertramp), scene of the mysterious case of Zygmund Adamski and the alien abduction of PC Alan Godfrey, not to mention the start of Dr Harold Shipman’s killing spree, and the site of the only school to have produced two Nobel Prize winners. At least it was at one time, but it may still be. It’s home to the UK’s highest beach and then there’s our guerrilla gardeners, Incredible Edible Todmorden, who commandeer empty land and spaces to plant herbs and vegetables for people to take whenever they wish.
I’d been catching up on Kristina’s posts for the UK tour and it seems such a whirlwind itinerary. It’s a shame the touring party didn’t have opportunity see much of Manchester as we’d had a week of such glorious weather then the heavens open when the band arrives! It’s a shame they didn’t see the Town Hall which always reminds me of Hogwarts, and it’s a shame they didn’t get further north than Glasgow to see Scotland become a truly spectacular landscape.
I’ve travelled down by train. As a lifelong football supporter you gain a working knowledge of the road and rail network, and planning 12 weeks ahead meant I could secure bargain tickets. After checking in to a cheap and cheerful B and B I head for Hackney, part of the city I’ve never been to before, and it’s a surprise to find myself there a mere 12 minutes later. One stop on the tube, two by overground and the train deposits me at Hackney Central, right by the venue. Just the four hours to kill before the show then. I have a wander around and find Hackney to be like any other suburb, as it’s out to the east of the city and away from the areas readily identifiable as London, before returning to Oslo to eat, where a 20% discount is offered on the menu on production of your ticket for the show. The bar begins to fill up and I’m joined by a gentlemen meeting his daughter and her partner for the show. Last night he’d been to see the Rolling Stones, tomorrow night it’s Sparks, but this evening he was with his daughter who was eager to see Screaming Females for the first time. We chat about the band for a while and realise that that I’d not heard any sound check or seen any of the tour party. No cause for concern though, as Marissa suddenly appears outside.
The show itself was simply magnificent. Screaming Females absolutely tore the place up. 25 minutes and 6 songs into the set and the band have the crowd in the palms of their hands. They’ve not said a word, just ripped in to each song. This really was superlative stuff, with the crowd dancing and singing along.
As this is my first attempt a creative (or not!) writing ,I won’t attempt to review further when there are far better people than me to do so. Here’s a link to a review that hits the nail right on the head.
So it ends, and once again it’s all way too soon. I manage a brief chat with each of the band as I simply couldn’t leave without thanking them after seeing two performances that have taken me right back to being that awe struck 15 year old who watched the Ramones all those years ago.
At the station I see my erstwhile dining partner, with daughter and partner, all grinning from ear to ear. Then the train whisks me swiftly back in central London and I find that my mood changes dramatically as the intense experience of the show is left a few miles to the east. I’ve just walked away from something wonderful, something I feel as though I’ll never have again and I’m almost tempted to head back in a bid to recover the intense joy that tonight’s performance gave me. This is why I always hate seeing goodbye to the band members and the people I’ve met as it seems so final and I just never know whether I will have the chance to do it all again
Stiff upper lip old boy, so I head to a nearby pub for nightcap.
Next stop, work on Saturday morning for the first of two day shifts but there should be more to follow in what is shaping up to be a monumental 2018….
PS – Sock Update
Found the blighter! My bag has shoulder straps that allow it be worn as a backpack. These can be folded away in to a pouch when not in use, and that’s where the missing piece of hosiery was.
Shame I threw away its partner….
It’s 08:30, there’s sunlight streaming into the room, a tv news crew making a racket beneath the window, my ears are ringing and I can only find one sock. I know for certain that I had two when I returned to the room last night, and last night came to an end far too quickly.
The previous day I’d travelled by train in to Victoria station, which has Manchester Arena immediately adjacent to it. The two structures have been integrated in recent years, so that the foyer where a suicide bomb detonated following an Ariana Grande show last year is immediately above me as I leave the train and walk along the platform. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of that event and there is a very sombre atmosphere pervading the station as preparations are being made throughout the city to mark the occasion the next day. I head to my digs for the night, 2 minutes away, and dump my bag. A beer in one of Manchester’s many traditional pubs restores a brighter outlook with the chance to savour the prospect of Screaming Females playing on my home soil. The pint wasn’t bad either.
It’s not too long ago that I thought that the only way I’d ever get to see Screaming Females play live would be to travel to the States. The opportunity to do so arose in February 2017, which was a bit of a leap in to the unknown (I was the guy who turned up at a deserted Monty Hall at 10:30am looking for a ticket office), but everyone was so welcoming that I just had to make a return visit in February 2018. The second trip was even better as I had time to spend exploring NJ Transit and time to knock about with Charlie and meet other fan club members at the shows. I even took in my first NHL game and nipped over to Brooklyn with Charlie and Todd to see the Jacuzzi Boys play. So, the thought of Screaming Females in Manchester seems a little too good to be true. Thirty eight years ago, in this very city, my fifteen year old self saw the Ramones walk on stage and rock my socks off. Tonight ranks right up alongside that evening, and Screaming Females have even managed to go one step further and make one sock vanish.
I headed towards the venue which is located in the city’s Northern Quarter and only a few minutes’ walk from Band On The Wall, the venue for the band’s next visit this coming September. This is a former industrial and commercial area that fell in to neglect for a number of years but with a little TLC is now benefiting from a bohemian feel with plenty of quirky shops and businesses, and all manner of places to eat and drink. There’s a van parked outside, perhaps the band have arrived, which is immediately confirmed by the sound check blasting out from the basement. A few minutes later I spy Marissa getting a coffee so wander over to say hi and it takes her a moment to recognise me. I’ll never forget the first time I met her, February 2017, at Monty Hall. I was in rapture having seen the band belt out Bell whilst I was stood a mere six feet from Marissa. She heard my broad Lancashire accent and broke into a huge, dazzling smile. I get an after image just thinking about that moment, and she treats me to it again. We have a brief chat and I pass a small gift to Mike before leaving so that they can go for something to eat.
A phone alert summons me to a nearby bar. I’d talked a few friends from my local pub in to buying tickets and they have just arrived. Think you can guess what happened over the next hour.
Heading in to the no frills venue, which is a large cellar, there are two support bands for this evening’s show (to my eternal shame I never noted their names) before Screaming Females take to the stage. They sounded good from outside during the sound check but Empty Head would have blasted the plaster off the walls had there been any. Screamales have played over 1200 shows, and boy can you tell as they have the packed cellar enchanted, many singing along to Hopeless. Time flew by as they belt out Agnes Martin, Step Outside and Bell. It was over way, way too quickly before they returned for two encore tracks, Glasshouse and Boyfriend. I hang around afterward to bid farewell to the band and to say hello to Kristina on the merch stall, before heading back to the digs. I hate saying goodbye to Mike, Jarret and Marissa, as I never know whether I’ll get to see them again. This time I have London to look forward to in two days.
My room overlooks Manchester Cathedral so I have woken to racket of the tv crews setting up for the memorial service taking place that afternoon, my ears still ringing from last night’s majestic performance. Time to head home. I never did find that sock and had to trudge the streets of Manchester commando fashion.
I feel I should end with a personal note as there was a recent tweet from the band regarding comments some reviewer had made regarding “All At Once”.
If there’s a repeat Monty Hall weekend in February 2019 then I feel almost obliged to be there as following Screaming Females is no longer just about the music, it’s about the people as well. It’s about Marissa’s dazzling smile, it’s about Mike’s spontaneous show of appreciation that I had travelled over from the UK, it’s about Jarrett and his quiet friendliness, and it’s about Charlie and his merry band of fan club members – Pedro, Melissa, Morgan to name a few, then Hoboken Jack and Todd-O-Phonic from WFMU, and many more. Thank you to you all, it’s been such a fulfilling and rewarding experience.
I hope the band get to see that last bit as it represents something that their music has achieved and something that the hack who made those throwaway comments, probably on the basis of a free promo copy, will never understand.
Next stop Oslo. The one in Hackney, London. Not the one in Norway…..