"I awake from my surprisingly comfortable bunk parked in Sheffield. I have my first experience of Joe’s unique brand of snoring. I could swear he is snoring my name. “nkkkkTomk!!!!!!! NKKKKKKKKTOMK!!!!!!!. It’s very upsetting to say the least.
We’re parked in an Esso station (anyone in the U.S. remember that place?) connected to a fairly nice hotel. I found Dunk’s note that he had gotten a room for the night. While sitting outside of the bus 3 children are running around in front of cars, trying to cross the street and trying to look up of the dress of the hooker at main entrance of the hotel. “Where are your parents?” asked Joe. “They’re in the pub” the daughter replied. “Great!!!!” I thought to myself. Just like in the U.S., some parents believe it takes a village to raise their children (the villagers in this case being moving vehicles). The patents later emerged to spare their kids from traffic for another day.
After a phenomenal breakfast (I eat oatmeal at home, so eggs, sausage and beacon are nectar of the gods) and luxury shower (I bathe in oatmeal at home, so running water is like sweet milk from the teat of ……….the god….deses), I met the snoring herd of ogres, that is echolyn, at the Irish Pub across the street. The room temperature Guinness served by the adorable barmaid was like nectary delicious milk from the teats of goddesses whose god husbands previously made me a great breakfast. Some of the local elders were there enjoying their Sunday morning libations. They chastised us in a mix of Dublin meets Liverpool meets Ozzy Osbourne dialect. I’m not sure what the Irishman I spoke with was telling me, except that, I’m pretty sure, he had sex with a 105 year old barmaid in exchange for scotch. Then I traded him a pack of Marlboros for his Benson & Hedges…..no sex was initiated in the exchange.
Fast forward to the Boardwalk. The Boardwalk was very classy, clean venue. The soundman was ready for us when we arrived and homemade beef stew was simmering in the back. How cool is that???!!! Load in, and sound check, were quick and easy, especially since we didn’t have to deal with 39 stairs.
The show was sponsored by a Classic Rock Society of whom, I believe, were also the kind souls responsible for the beef stew in the back (lips smacking). We had time to relax in the homey back room (as in to resemble a home to my American gangsta constituents). We caught up on the tragedy of hurricane Katrina at home……”
'But nothing is perfect
in God's perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things
so we'd understand
What life without them would be
-Neil Young
The opener was an angelic voiced female whose songs were a refreshing break from the bombast of prog music. It was great to see some friends from the London show had followed us to Sheffeild. Made me realize our music really means something to some people…….I wept like a little girl………Okay, I drank a few beers, but I’m still very grateful.
Early on in the show, I had two false starts. I launched confidently into Georgia Pine with my bass set at full volume to pitch bend/distortion/ringmodulation/delay…………. ….WEEEEEOOOOOOO!!!!!!!WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOO!!!!!!bzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZEEEEEEEEERRRRRRR!!!!!!............ TOM!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG GODDAM SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!....WEEEEEeeeeeeeerrrroop. ASSHOLE!!! (in my mind)……..(maybe not)
Paul counts me into the pre Human Lottery bass solo. I’m playing!!! I’m thinking!!!! I’m playing!!! I’m thinking!!!! I’m thinking!!!! I’m thinking!!!!...........…..I’m not playing……..It’s quiet!!!......Let’s try this again. I’m playing!!! I’m playing!!! I’m playing!!! And this kite is up!!!! After some misses I think we had a great show thanks to great (and sympathetic to me) audience.
Thanks again Sheffeild!!!"
