Wednesday, 7 December 2011

High Noon Tour Day 18

Day Eighteen 27/11/11

Ok, i have had a looong break from writing. With almost no internet access, no computer access and some disappointing news the whole tour diary became less of a priority and i’m now writing from memory some 10 days after the events. I’m going to get as much in as i can remember, but God knows if the order is correct and i’m sure to be missing some interesting details.

The bad news i just mentioned came when the tour’s promoter came to our hotel room to tell us the headline band were pulling most of the Australian dates from their tour.
Fuck.
That means we’re here in Oz, having promoted loads of shows, arranged gear, transport, merchandise, accommodation and people to meet up with only to discover we’re only going to be playing a handful of shows over the next 5-6 weeks.
To say we were bummed out is an understatement. We were shell shocked and were expecting to be told we’d be flying home.
Soon after getting the news however we did actually have a gig to do, so we decided to put aside any worries until the next day and get on with the job in hand.
We were booked to play The Gaelic Hotel (most pubs and venues here are called The Something Hotel) in support of a local band, Red Fire Red. Our work sheet says load in is 3pm until 6pm, so we show up around 6 as we have so little to take with us. Around 8pm the other bands show up and we learn another lesson about Australian gigging. Soundchecks are uncommon and punctuality is a concept not recognised by 90% of the musicians here. In the mean time we meet a few guys drinking in the bar and manage to get ourselves onto a guest list for a ‘hot club’ later in the night. More on that later.
The show itself is great and we take out a lot of the day’s frustrations onstage, playing one of our angriest sets to date, but we can’t help be feel directionless as we pack up our gear. Conversation is limited and everyone seems in their own world.
Si and I decide to go find this club in Kings Cross and with a couple of Aussie friends go on to test our ‘All Aussie Beer Is The Same’ theory in hope of blocking out the inevitable reality that needs to be faced tomorrow. It turns out Kings Cross is something of a colourful district in town. Depending on your taste it is either the greatest place ever to have existed or its like Fake Boob night at Tiger Tiger. Like ducks to water we do not take and after marvelling at the wildlife’s anatomical displays settle down into a more cosy bar called Dive Bar. Led Zepplin, a pool table and dark corners. Much more our style. After losing a few games of pool i decide i have had enough for the night and go to catch a taxi, but it appears this is an impossible task. Kings Cross is awash with stumbling girls wearing nothing, seedy men ‘helping them’, kebabs all over the pavement and literally hundreds of people waiting to get a taxi so i set off walking with my hand raised all the way home hoping to get a taxi, but get back before anyone stops. Minicab firms of London take note.....get yourself a Sydney franchise! A killing could be made, i’m sure of it.

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