A Your Twenties Tour Diary: Country Mouse, Town Mouse
Standon Calling, Hertfordshire, and White Heat, Soho
A warm late July morning, clouds moving fast across the London sky, England giving the Aussies a run for their money in the third test, and a man in a grey towelling bathrobe brandishing a chisel at us as we pull away. All this augurs well – a fine day for a rock show.
man in grey towelling bathrobe
Our little Vauxhall estate is groaning with the paraphernalia of the working band – Fender Stratocasters, Vic Firth drumsticks and cherry pie. We’re not past the Archway roundabout before the little bugger gives out. We enlist the help of some burly bystanders to get the show back on the road.
Vauxhall estate + burly bystanders = back on the road again!
Knights of the Holloway Road! We salute you.
Standon Calling, out by Stansted Airport, is an eerie place at 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, in the midst of a train strike. It’s our first-ever festival set and, whilst the little bubble dome tent we’re playing in is not exactly overflowing with punters, we acquit ourselves with reasonable aplomb. A couple of Koppaberg pear ciders and we’re away – the catering pasta salad we consume before playing kicks in around midway through the set: better than red bull for sure. We make sure to catch Django Django before heading off back to London for sweet Archway Kebab Centre falafel. Good times.
So, from the empty Hertfordshire wastes of Standon to the fleshpots and fleapits of Soho – our ‘Billionaires’ single launch at White Heat, Madame Jojo’s. When Armageddon comes, it’ll be just the cockroaches and Keith Richards left. And they’ll be sharing a WKD blue at White Heat.
Launching a single is like waving goodbye to your child on their first day at school. You dress make sure they’ve tied their laces and remembered their lunchbox, and then basically they’re out in the big bad playground where other singles by the likes of The Horrors and Jack Penate and Beyonce will come and box their ears and threaten to bogwash them and throw them in the holly bushes. But it’s a step you’ve got to take, so it can make its way in the big bad world.
White Heat is like a comforter for said child – a consoling note in the lunchbox. The first band on was Frankie and the Heartstrings, who were awesome and who feature Pete Gofton, aka Johnny X from Kenickie, on guitar and keys. Basically my new favourite band.
Frankie and the Heartstrings
We had a lovely time. I made friends with Adam, the security guard. He kept backstage stocked up with icy-cold cans of Stella Artois. Plus, he told us to say to the crowd to move down from the bar and closer to the band – which is the last refuge of lame when it comes from a shitty band trying to make the place look busy, but when it’s a security risk it lets you off the hook completely. And it looked busy!
Adam: hero
Thanks Adam. You’re the best. When I’m as famous as Michael Jackson I want you as my personal bodyguard. And when I’m as dead as Michael Jackson I want you as my pallbearer. You made our single launch all the more sweet.
[We love you, Your Twenties. So should everyone else, comes to that! ''Caught Wheel' will be hitting your eardrums and dancing feet some time soon. Hear that!]
