Seattle is a very chilled out city. I guess because it's near Canada. The people are very helpful and the mood is mellow. I manage to log on for the first time in days, send my fifty emails and all is well with the world. Before the show Alex Newport shows up, an old friend from England. Since his band 'Fudgetunnel' split up he's been living out here doing production work. That boy knows a thing or two about guitars let me tell you. It's good to see him.The gig is great. I guess they're familiar with heavy music around these parts. The crowd are very responsive. There is stage diving and pogo-ing and a healthy pit. We like Seattle. We'll be back. Some of the people I meet tell me they've been waiting six years to see us play. Six years? These are some dedicated fans. I feel kind of guilty that we haven't made it up here before. There's a guy in the crowd with a home made Pitchshifter T-shirt. I like that.
As I stroll to the bus after we play I run into a couple of fans. One of them ask me if I've seen his back. I don't think he's lost it so I figure there's something he wants me to see on it. As he turns around and takes his shirt off I can see he has a big Pitchshifter 'eye' logo tattooed on his back with the song title 'To die is gain' across the top of it (see pic). Wow. This guy really likes us. He has a logo I designed in my bedroom nine years ago and some words I wrote permanently marked across his flesh. I don't know how that makes me feel. On the one hand it's very flattering that people like our music so much that they are prepared to wear it for life, but on the other hand I feel kind of responsible and somehow that I'm tainting their bodies. The worst bit is that we didn't even play 'To die is gain' tonight. It's an old song and we're all sick of it. How bad does that make me feel? We could have at least played the damn song for the guy. The pain he endured and the six year wait and we don't play the fucking song.
After the show a woman I just met tries to convince me that I really should go with her to a club called the colourbox. She looks like 'Misery' material to me so instead Jim and I catch a lift with my Greek friend Denny over to a local club called the Showbox. Ed Rush and Optical are DJing drum'n'bass tonight and we get in their and dance it up for a couple of hours before the club closes at 2 am. 2 AM? What the hell is that all about. My first Saturday night free for months and the town closes at 2 am? Rubbish. Denny knows of an after party so we head over there. I flash them the laminate and we get in. Inside there's an American version of Jameroquai (or 'Genericwhy' as we call him) noodling around in the corner of a warehouse. Great. As we order a drink at the makeshift bar the police arrive and swiftly the booze is gone and so are we. Situation we like, citations we don't. It's bed time for democracy in Washington State.
No comments:
Post a Comment