Varsity Drag UK Tour Diary 4: Norwich: worsening sound systems, improving sound; Maisy the dog!

The local promoter/sound guy/general welcoming committee is a fine chap named Dempsey, who ushers us into The Marquee's performance space... as close to a cavern as one could realistically expect to find above ground. Actually, it's pretty darned cool: kinda looks the generic movie set for the underground-rock-club-where-the-bad-kids/vampires/drug-lords-hang out-after-hours... Black walls of stone and brick, black ceiling somewhere above, cement floor, a ramp and balcony where the entrance is with the requisite rails made of pipe (black as well, of course). Bad ass.

And strangely enough, the aging-looking PA and the somewhat bizarrely-placed monitors (off to the side, looking as crumbling as the rest) provide the best sound we've had yet on stage. Go figure.

Along with a local punk band, we're treated once more to a set of Beverly Kills -- alas, probably the last we will witness for a while -- and the Mags throw down with their customary fury. We pull out a couple of ones we haven't played yet for the set. All in all, I feel measurable improvement each time we play: by the time the tour is over, as is customary, we'll be $#@ing tight enough to go out on tour! :-)

At evening's end, Dempsey kindly invites us to stay at his place -- just a "few minutes away" -- so, loaded with our knapsacks and rolling suitcases, out we trudge into the misting Norwich night. What seems like endless hours and a maze of nightime British streets later, we descend into a garden-level apartment of remarkable coziness to meet Maisey, the dog of the house. We get many wags of approval, and as we settle in the living room she makes the rounds of laps, patiently indulging us as we coo and squawk and make those dumb noises people make at dogs. Josh declares her to be "a perpetual motion dog" -- as a senior lady she does have a touch of palsy -- but most of the wiggling seems to be sheer enthusiasm.

There seems to be some sort of on-demand music video catalog service on the TV, so the shout-outs begin -- NWA, Elvis Costello, The Jam, and many other faves are screened... but long before that party is over, L & I have repaired to the vacant room next door to deploy our newly-bought sleeping bags.

(Only, what -- FIVE shows to go? This is gonna be over before we know it. D'OH!) -- Ben Deily

COMING NEXT: the road to Leamington Spa; owls gone wild; no stage, but one heck of a lift.

[originally posted here]

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Varsity Drag UK Tour Diary 3: The Magnificent & excellent van...punk & disorderly in Peterborough

Sunday dawns to another post-rock tableau of sleeping bags, snoring folks and sun creeping into the DS/Georgie house in beautiful Cambridge. Today is the scheduled arrival of The Magnificent, the kindly benefactors who will be supporting us for the next week with van, navigation, and gear.

We meet James, Matt and Charlie, who are obviously as great a bunch of fellas as we could hope to be trapped in close quarters with. Best of all (well, for me, at least) James and Matt have contrived to supply me with a freshly set-up SG, which plays like a dream. We share a few pints and some veggie sausages and mash at the Portland Arms, to which we must now bid a fond, if temporary, farewell. Outside, we greet the touring van, which is most excellently set up -- with facing seats in back, train-car style, as well as some fold-out table sort of things.

By late afternoon, we're off to Peterborough for the all-afternoon-into-the-evening "Punk & Disorderly" extravaganza at The Park's Club Revolution, or, more properly (apparently) "Club Revolution at The Park." Whatevs. There's another slate of excellent bands, including -- once more -- Beverly Kills, Southport and Vanilla Pod! As for our hosts The Magnificent, the acquit themselves according to their name: a power-pop/punky trio, they're as good a match as we could have hoped for, and play a fantastic set -- looking forward to getting to hear it a bunch more times...

With Aston and so many of his stable of bands in attendance, it's basically Old Home Day for us 'Dragsters. Rather cavernous place, but comfy -- plenty of room for merch setup and cozy corners in which to recline, scarfing down Indian food from one of 18 joints on the same block. My tuning pedal expires on stage with some minor drama, but this is rock & roll, and you all know how THAT is. :-)

Josh drinks the blue beverage (called "WKD," I believe) behind the bar which I had dared him to do: I have a sip at his insistence, and it's not half-bad -- more like two-thirds. No injuries sustained. But I'd hate to imagine what more than one of these ghastly things would do to the human head.

Back to Cambridge at a reasonable hour, somehow. Guess we're getting in the groove. -- Ben Deily

COMING NEXT: Norwich--the madness continues...

[originally posted here]

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Varsity Drag UK Tour Diary 2: The Portland Arms rocks our world... Joshua arriveth... show no. 1

Our first actual day (that is, the first not addled by sleep deprivation-induced auditory hallucinations) dawns in the UK to find us at DS and Georgie's place, tucked into our customary room -- which we notice is now equipped with an economy-sized plush owl, whose goggle-eyed & deranged gaze tells us we're clearly among friends.

Cambridge -- which of course we never even really had a chance to see last time -- is pretty amazing, what with the punts all over the Cam, and the castle-like 800-year old college buildings constantly on every side. There's also a clock -- said to be one of the most accurate in the world, for what it's worth -- topped by a hideous insectoid-racheting thing: think HR Giger's pocketwatch, only 2 meters tall. We get lunch at a joint called the Anchor, which proudly claims via several prominently-placed placards that Syd (née "Sid") Barrett hung out there constantly as a young man, listening to the live music which ultimately (the sign goes on to claim) inspired him to biff off on his own musical thing. Er, Happy Atom Heart Mother's Day to you, the Anchor.

Later in the day, our Boss Tuneage label honcho/president and chief impresario Aston Stephens and wife Julie arrive, bearing gifts: t-shirts, and a box each of For Crying Out Loud, Rock & Roll Is Such A Hassle and... as my heart pounds in anticipation... one which is revealed to contain freshly-pressed copies of [the forthcoming long-player -- Ed.] Night Owls. I hold it in my living hand! Triumph! My life has not been in vain.

This evening, we get the luxury of being audience rather than entertainer, and enjoy a fantastic slate of bands at the Portland Arms, including a brace of label-mates: Vanilla Pod and Southport (featuring the remarkable Simon Wells, formerly of Snuff). After the show, 'round midnight, Josh rolls in with bags in tow, apparently none the worse for having run London's gauntlet of treacherous, malevolent old ladies.

Next day, after a somewhat (expectedly) rowdy evening spent with DS and Georgie's placed filled to the rafters with Southport and us, we're up and preparing. A few million revisions later, we've got a set sorted that seems to balance old stuff (the first record, and the live record we probably should be promoting) as well as the brand new stuff that we've felt compelled to unleash so precipitously on the world. Sigh, 2 records out within 4 months of each other makes for this kinda balancing act, gaah. :-)

The Saturday night lineup at the PA is a fabulous (and resoundingly gyno-centric) array of bands including Tiny Tigers, We Rock Like Girls Don't, and Beverly Kills -- fronted by our very own Georgie! Upon taking the stage for our set at evening's end, I feel compelled to apologize to the audience for Josh and I not being girls -- but at least we have Lisa's cred to warrant our presence on a stage graced by such feminine rock power.

An incredibly loud set, but the audience seems psyched as hell, bouncing all over the place and cheering, so who's complaining? In tribute to Josh's quasi-religious pilgrimage here to the Portland Arms, we play our Soft Boys cover -- after all, Robyn and the boys recorded a live record in this very room. (Josh has punctuated the last 24 hours or so by glancing around whilst repeating, in somewhat stunned tones, "Hey, we're in England. I can't believe we're in England. I can't believe we're at the Portland Arms.")

The usual after-party and after-after-partys rage on, but L & I manage to crank up the white noise machine and hit the sack. After all, tomorrow is another working day. Albeit the Lord's one. -- Ben Deily

COMING NEXT: We meet our great benefactors, The Magnificent...a most excellent van...punk & disorderly in Peterborough!

[originally posted here]

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Varsity Drag UK Tour Diary 1: Hyper-organized travel; an interlude of violence; Cambridge at last!

[Photo Credit: Joshua Pickering | As big fans of hometown heroes Varsity Drag, we weren't going to let the little fact that the band is touring the UK, which is, of course, on the other side of an ocean from here, keep us from providing some coverage. Fortunately for us, fronter Ben Deily agreed to keep a tour diary of the trio's jaunt around the UK. Here is the first installment. -- Ed.]

So, you know those people who are SO organized that it's a bit irritating? What with the lists, and the spreadsheets, and the minutely-arranged schedules?

Well, at least for one brief, shining moment, that was us: during the 48-hour countdown to departure, Lisa and I find ourselves methodically ticking things off of "to do" lists with a blind fury--and unnerving regularity. How can this be going so smoothly? Our suspicions are aroused. Our paranoia notwithstanding, it would seem the rock gods are smiling on our endeavor.

Virgin Atlantic provides a swell ocean crossing, and some nice little red socks. I wake up a few times midflight to see the grinning, jabbering face of Richard Branson leering back from the tiny video screen in the seat back in front of me...has his ego no bounds? (There's even a little cartoon of his visage on the little gift sack with a toothbrush etc in it.) Hmmm, I guess if I was a champion balloonist/corporate master of the universe, I'd be equally enamored of myself.

Heathrow: after nearly in hour in the customs line (it musta been a particularly busy day--the nice passport lady said as much), we find ourselves standing somewhat dazedly in the main concourse, looking in vain for the Underground. Suddenly, a middle-aged battleaxe of a woman with steely gray hair rolls her baggage cart up behind Lisa, precedes to actually HIT her in the shoulder with a jabbing finger motion, and barks "You're blocking the way!" We stand there stunned, as she wheels swiftly out of sight down a ramp. Once I realize what's happened, of course, it's ON like Donkey Kong: a swift pursuit follows, and we've caught up in a few minutes. (Fortuitously, she's headed toward the Underground, leading us to our destination.) I run up behind her and punch HER in an identical fashion to the blow she delivered to the hapless Lisa, and shout, "Oi! You! You're the woman who just assaulted my wife."

She spins around, clearly surprised, but not in the least intimidated. "Well, you be SURE and tell me if it BRUISES," she squawks in a ghastly midlands accent. "You're really a rather awful person, aren't you?" I reply, still a bit stunned by her unrepentant nastiness. "Yes I am," she replies, trying to navigate her cart away from us along a moving sidewalk. (Clearly, however monstrous this ol' bitch is, she doesn't want any more trouble from us.)

Involuntarily slipping into "Fight Club" dialogue -- it's my weakness -- I shout after her "How's that working out for you? Being an awful person?" "Fine," she shouts back. "Keep it up then," I holler as she vanishes down the tunnel.

After a multiple-stop ride to King's Cross and a train to Cambridge, we catch blessed sight of Georgie (of Beverly Kills), a blonde knight riding a shining BMW station wagon to our rescue. Soon we're ensconced in her and DS Willsher's lovely house, where we enjoyed a fantastic idyll (and showers, and laundry privileges) during our last whirlwind run through Albion. Home sweet Cambridge!

Dave (DS) has even contrived to supply us with some guitars: a Fender P-bass looking thing for Lisa, and a Vox guitar for me. Both play excellently. -- Ben Deily

COMING NEXT: The Portland Arms rocks our world...Joshua arriveth...show number one!

[originally posted here]

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