The Gig (part two) « Higgs Boson Blog

The Gig (part two)

The Gig (part two)
Current mood: adventurous
Category: Life

The Gig

Part two

I am reliably informed that the car was in fact a Fiat Strada. Where was I? Oh yes, the trip. The one thing I hate about travelling is having to organise things, and if during the course of ‘organising things’ form filling is required I more or less develop a form of dementia and for added spice a healthy dollop of Tourettes. Apparently I have an extremely low tolerance for stupid questions, doesn’t everyone?

Anyway, they, the Teds, started out from Cornwall and made there way up to North Devon where I lived, and still live. They stayed the night and we set off in the morning in two vehicles; mine, the Strada (one Ted travelled with me) the other Teds were in the obligatory white transit van with all the gear.

We stopped about halfway for a bite to eat and really it wasn’t until this point that I actually started to feel part of something, yes we were all quite excited about our little adventure but the truth was that I hadn’t actually been part of a collective or in a proper band for quite a while, just solo piano, so I’d lost that sense of camaraderie as it were.

When we got to the port we didn’t realise we had to fill in Carnet forms – Carnet forms!! What the f****** hell is that? Blood started to drain from the Higg head, oh NOoooo! Thank f*** the others weren’t afflicted with my belligerence towards authourity; otherwise we would’ve all been locked up before we’d even boarded the ferry. The ferry journey went without incident as it happens or at least as far as I can remember although when we arrived in Holland there was some confusion about which way to go, left or right, I plumbed for left. Anyroad, we were off..

We inevitably had to stop in Holland for petrol (gas) which meant the four Teds (and one girl Ted) wasted considerable time perusing some jaw-dropping porn movies, in a petrol station!! Whatever next? Well, we eventually hit the road and it wasn’t long before yes, we were lost. We took a detour off the main Autobahn and ended up in place called Titsenbum or at least that’s what I thought it said, I couldn’t believe it; I must have been hallucinating, owing to some unfortunate overindulgence in that garage…….thinking about sex things can take on a strange dimension, and imagine the danger involved when driving whilst under the influence of tits and arse – more lethal than drugs, actually I think the town was called Tissenbeum….it made no difference. We had lunch there and hit the road again.

Then, to compound the misery of sexual abstinence, for three of us boy Teds at any rate. I should explain the slightly portly Ted who eventually became known as Super-Ted was having a relationship with the girl Ted, so this meant three of us were fast becoming a very sad bunch indeed. As I was saying, to compound the misery we got lost again only this time we were guided by an amazing looking German girl who, when we stopped to ask for directions, casually stuck her head in my window, without a by or leave….we were completely transfixed by the sheer beauty of this girl, so any directions were completely lost, literally in one ear and out the other…the remainder of the trip through northern Germany was in almost total silence. It was tits all the way I’m afraid, well, at least it took my mind off the discomfort. What was becoming painfully clear was that Copenhagen was a lot further than it looked on the map. It’s all very fine for Clarkson in a Mercedes McLaren, you try it in a Fiat Strada, which by comparison is only one evolutionary step from a hoop and stick. I say silence; I did break off to remark on how this place Ausfahrt seemed to be very popular? Hamburg yes heard of that place, Berlin, yes that too, Ausfahrt? Never heard of it…turns out it was German for ‘drive out’. What a twat!

So there were two Teds travelling at warp speed (that’s 70mph) in a smoke filled Fiat Strada shouting Ausfahrt!!!!!There it is again…how big is that fucking place!!!

We eventually got to the ferry which in my memory is nothing more than a miserable cold blur that just had to be endured until we hit Denmark. Closing in on Copenhagen Super-Ted decided to stop for petrol, failed to understand or mistook petrol for diesel and filled up with the wrong fuel, how they got to Copenhagen god only knows.

When we finally arrived we must have looked like nothing on earth…we were absolutely completely and utterly knackered and with the van spluttering and farting its way into the hotel car park the management must have thought – hang on, call the police, in Danish of course. Anyway, Super-Ted who by now resembled an alien life-form decided to announce our arrival to the main reception desk, we tried to stop him but it was too late. You have to imagine someone who looks completely shagged-out, a sweaty Neanderthal type who sounds exactly like the comedian Jethro, you had to be there. Weems the band! Where do we set the gear up Ted? This was to a bunch of Danish receptionists. We eventually managed to avoid arrest and convince them that we were actually the ‘band’. Anyhow, following some considerable confusion we were eventually led to our rooms where we literally crashed-out…..

I remember waking up in the room and just looking out of the window out across Copenhagen in a daze when suddenly I felt the overwhelming urge to phone the harridan, a momentary lapse of madness if there ever was one, from my five star hotel hovel. I suspect it was because when you find yourself in a strange place you just need to connect with something familiar, maybe?

After many hours the Teds awoke and we all drifted down to the bar where we were to play. Unbeknown to me, naive as I am, this bar was full of extremely high-class and therefore reassuringly expensive prostitutes. I thought my luck was in when one of them started to look me up and down. Thank god the barman took pity and told me what was going on and who they were, otherwise with me being hornier than a Viking hat shop, with what I had in mind, the bill would have been the size of Lebanon..

The following day we set the gear up and did a sound-check, played a bit and I have to say the management had a definite look of relief on their faces when they could hear that we could actually play. I wonder if people really understand or appreciate the sheer effort that goes in? I mean, if musicians charged their time out in the same way that solicitors do then the pay cheque for this gig would have set me up for life….Oh and we found out later in the day that the entire top floor of this hotel (Hotel Scandinavia) if you must know, was being hired by some African King, I’d never heard of, and what with these prostitutes who were able to charge astronomical sums for doing the unmentionable I started to feel a tad worthless, given that I was actually broke at the time, it’s another world!

Anyway, we spent a day or so aimlessly wandering around, went into down-town Copenhagen for a root-around the sex shops, obviously, and then made our way back to the hotel to prepare for the evenings performance..- To my horror, we didn’t really have an audience as such; we were playing to ourselves most of the time, except for the weekends when hoards of marauding Swedes came over to party. Actually this arrangement wasn’t too bad because we realised we could, during the down-time, play more or less what we liked…anyway one weekday evening who should walk in but the band Depeche Mode *feckers* who attempted to take the piss, ha-ha-ha, bad idea…Super-Ted had a plan….

Don’t miss part 3 where the drummer gets arrested and I meet Sinead O’Connor..

Higgs