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An Albatross

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Thursday August 13, 2009 | 11:28 AM

The view from the Lambeth Bridge.

Waking up in Glasgow, we pack up and heave our bags down the stairs and
back over to the Captain's Rest to load out. After loading, I get some
hot water from behind the bar to make coffee, and Eddie hits up a
nearby store to buy an iPod adapter for the van's radio. It's
definitely a posh van, high roof, loft with space for three, a TV with
DVD player and plenty of room -- but since most of us brought mp3
players, we don't have many CDs to listen to. On a longer drive like
today an adapter will definitely help.

We plow right back down the island through all that incredible scenery
and into the thick of London. We've played the Old Blue Last several
times before, and there are a few things that are always consistent:
the load-in up three flights of a rusty slippery fire escape is always
terrifying, the place always gets so packed you can barely move or
breathe and the shows are utterly fantastic to play! Tonight is a free
party sponsored by Vice Magazine, and it promises to be huge.

After cheating death one more time on the fire escape and a short
soundcheck, we scatter to find food. Jonny goes looking for a Western
Union (the joke of the tour is that Jonny is always looking for a
Western Union or a currency exchange), and others find food elsewhere.
I get a sandwich, some crisps, fruit and a Ginger Beer from a Tesco
market just as I start to go insane from not eating all day. As we
make our way back, rain begins to drop in buckets. Some of us make it
back in time. Some of us don't.

The second band is called Pulled Apart By Horses. I remember the name
because of the sound engineer in Brighton telling me about them. Given
that she used the word "endure," it seems I have something to look
forward to. They don't disappoint. They're loud, rude and sloppy and
spend almost as much time in the crowd as on stage. It's exactly what
I need to take my mind off the fact that there are so many people in
here I'm worried about the floor caving in.

The stage is not terribly big, but you've got a lot more breathing room
than the floor, so I'm happy when it's our turn to play. The place is
absolutely packed with people, and it is an incredible show. Eddie
spends most of his time in the crowd, jumping on the bar, hanging from
the lighting rig or wrestling with the rowdy audience. By the time
it's over, the walls are dripping with condensation and the floor is
slick with sweat and beer. We get our pictures taken with and by Vice
girls and slowly recover.

Many of our friends are here. Sufian has been braving the crowds to
take pictures. The lads from Wounds are here, the Irish band we played
with in Nottingham. Most important, our friends Nuala and Roy are here,
our longtime friends who live in a gorgeous house in West Hampsted
where they have graciously sheltered us countless times, often with
almost no notice. They're an intelligent, fascinating and warm couple
with an enduring love for loud rock music and modern art, both of
which fill their home. Nuala's grandfather was a British abstract
painter with works in the collection of the Tate, and some of his
paintings adorn the walls along with various object d'artes they've
picked up in their travels. This is the house we head to after loading
back down the treacherous fire escape in considerably less condition
to do so safely. Load-out is punctuated by a Battle Royale between the
Gieda brothers and the pack of Irish lads that first erupts in the
venue then continues out on the street, leaving the combatants
exhausted, bruised and laughing, and the onlookers thoroughly
entertained.

We sit up in Nuala and Roy's kitchen for hours, drinking and talking.
Poor Roy has to be up at 8 a.m. for work, and he's not looking forward to
it. By the time everyone gets to bed, they've drank all the liquor in
the house and started in on the vermouth.

Vice Magazine Photos - http://photos.viceland.com/albums/234
Pulled Apart by Horses - http://www.myspace.com/pulledapartbyhorses
The Old Blue Last - http://www.theoldbluelast.com/
Wounds - www.myspace.com/thewoundsband
 

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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