Monthly Archives: September 2008

The Day of Days

It’s an early one here at George Road, as The Swindler and I prepare to embark on what would be our most ridiculously overambitious adventure yet if IDIET weren’t hanging over us grinning strangely. We’re off to Cardiff Castle for the British Cheese Festival, and then this evening hoping to be back in time to catch some of the PC Gamer Showdown, the place where Nerds, PCs and Coventry come together.

Last night we went down to Nando’s to celebrate the birth of Parkes, and the Swindler and I walked back along the canal and were confronted with a disco barge. Huge bright lights punched through the pleasant evening air, indie guitars blasted away, and a glass-sided longboat with slightly overweight slightly undressed people dancing in it nosed past, the disco flashers reflecting off the canalside shrubbery. It was one of those moments you wouldn’t believe had happened if you hadn’t been there.

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IDIET update

The good news is we’re now getting trains instead of driving. The bad news is this means co-ordinating train times and timetables and organisation and thingies. It also means we can haul less merch around, so we’re trying to think of stuff which will sell for a high enough price to cover our travel expenses whilst simultaneously taking up less than half of one suitcase. Suggestions welcome!

This saturday we depart (hopefully in the newly-fixed Peug, which has been au garage for repairs) for the British Cheese Festival in Cardiff Castle. We’ll keep you updated.

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Five Figs Down

This will be the last track on the Vibe, Drill & “It” EP, released in December 2012 (estimate).

Now we’re done (done a lot)
Had some fun (has to stop)
Gotta run (gotta go)
Head back to the status quo
Simmer down (lifting weights)
Been around (getting late)
Back again (little chores)
The carpet and the cluttered floors:
Hurdles that they herd us over every single day, we say
“I can’t, I won’t, my mind won’t work that way” it seems
An era’s ending, we are fending feelings off once more
Alas, alack… but what on earth’re we moaning for?
Around adventure still abounds
The tingling air, the scented sounds
The bustle of the evening street
The strolling people that you greet
The driving over summer fens
The restraunt’s opening hour extends
The ad-hox open mic attack
From fresh to new places and back
So others sit down with their tea
Mugs in front of their TVs
We’ll flex the voyage paradigm
And join them in the nick of time
The world unites by taking sides
But we’ll unite by taking rides
It isn’t over just because
Some calendar decreed it was-
Cos we’ve all got our niche, pebbles on a beach
We’ve all got lots to learn and slightly less to teach
So be as cool as cats, as curious as cows
Immortalise the best things that you’ve done with stupid rows
Keep your head up in the air, your feet upon the ground
We can hang together if we all cluster round
So don’t you grin and growl, don’t throw in the towel
Continue your adventures by means fair or…

Back to work (honest toil)
No more quirks (cracking soil)
A beating sun (a muggy haze)
The end of all signposted ways
Humid air (dusty rocks)
Glassy stare (mental blocks)
Sweat descending (from the brows)
Time hangs heavy on the boughs
It seems it’s gonna last and last forever and a day,
Oh please, oh no, our lives ticking away, it’s like there’s
Nothing to alleviate the static atmosphere we dread
But don’t lose hope… the clouds burst open overhead
A soaking torrent, thunder roars
It seems to play you need a pause
So who says this is all you’ve got?
You may be done, the vibe is not
Just think it through and you’ll eschew
These fatalistic attitudes
No bows, another play, same cast
Fresh earth after the storm has passed
The fruit has fallen from the tree
A punnet’s plummet spreads the seeds
So let’s get frantic, run amok
It’s time to turn the contrast up now…

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Pebbles on a Beach

You may not know this about me, but I’ve played some pretty big venues. I’ve played in the place where Radiohead had their first gig. And I’ve walked stages that have been trod by Oasis, Muse, and John Cleese. Seriously. I’ve played at Ginglik in London, and the now-deceased Jug of Ale in Birmingham, and the Pop-in in Paris. Small venues of course, yet in their own small ways legendary. But tonight, my friends, all that can suck me off. Because now, my dear, dear, readers, I’ve played at Hullavington Town Hall.

I was going to do a Cov-style travelogue of the HarFest experience for you internet types, but I’d like to leave a hazy, warm mystery about the exact chronology of events so I’m simply going to repeat a few incidents for posterity. Here, out of context and in no particular order, are some of the things we experienced:

  • Being licked by a cow
  • Throwing Pip around like an olympic hammer
  • Being thanked by a grandma for playing “the duck song”
  • Being chased off an RAF base by a mum with her kids in the back of the car
  • Attending an exhibition of locally-made lace
  • A discussion about the exact nature of postmodernism
  • Finishing the lyrics to the first new FaceOmeter-Dapper Swindler co-write in two years, and playing the song in question in a deserted train carriage between Chippenham and Bath while the sun beat down
  • An african drumming workshop in a beer garden
  • A rush of teenage girls for our last CDs
  • Scrambled Eggs with Michael Graves, the Peter Marshall of Wiltshire
  • Accidentally being on the same train as each other on the way there, despite coming from different cities
  • Having key roles in our team’s victory at The Minister Requires (Max) and The Stupid Newspaper Wordsearch Game (me)
  • Being paid for jamming… in jam

Overall though the abundant memory is already simply one of laughing really heartily, practically all the time, and having good old fashioned innocent Fun, the weekend marred by awkward sexual degeneracy only three times.

All hail the Vibe, and all hail the mighty citizens of Hullavington.

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It cannot have escaped the notice of the more observant amongst you that Iberia is in fact extremely large and that the proposed tour outlined previously is quite the undertaking, especially with that mysterious ‘TBA’ thrown in there on the 9th…

For the really uninitiated, that first leg from Faro to Lisbon is roughly the same as the distance from London to Exeter. But I’m not afraid. You know why? If so please tell me, It’s eating me up

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A New Proposition

Max: So we’re stuck in a car you’ve never driven with someone we’ve never met hurtling through countries we’ve never been in for like two weeks?
Will: In short… IT’S ONNNNN

Introducing the Imminent Death Iberian Experience Tour (IDIET) (say it in a Spanish accent):

2nd – Os Artistas, Faro
3rd – Regueirao dos Anjos, Lisbon
4th – O Seculo – Centro Cultural, Lisbon

5th – Art Brut, Madrid
7th – Casino Antiguo, Castellon
8th – La lata de bombillas, Zaragoza
9th – TBA
10th – Apolo 2, Barcelona

The Dapper Swindler and I will be trekking all over Pompey’s favourite province in the company of the delightful Ora Cogan. Spanish and Portingalese fans, pop down! It’s well over 1,500 miles and I’ve never driven on the right before, especially not in a mediterranean driving culture, so I look forward to dying in an enormous, semi-ironic fireball.

Max: What am I going to wear?

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Proper update soon, promise

Will: In fact, what’s your name?
Max: Let me check.

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