Two weeks roll by and it seems like time pulls the carpet from beneath the marching crowd. The shows get better, the band gets better and the set falls further into a place, a bit up and a bit down a sum of three halfs. In the end we all get what we need. Including […]
Two weeks roll by and it seems like time pulls the carpet from beneath the marching crowd. The shows get better, the band gets better and the set falls further into a place, a bit up and a bit down a sum of three halfs. In the end we all get what we need. Including the audience the ticket buyers and lovers of the band. The travelling has got me down recently and my arms seem forever out stretched on the wheel, up and down dark motorways. Next tour, this stops. For now its how it is and how it is can be the only place to be. For that time on stage I feel in a basket of love, smiling people in the rows and the band tilting at windmills and often charmingly so.
I love it when Mark Feltham, and he does, gets up to play with us on Labbled, and Dennis the menace on his guitar, we tilt this way and that with the horns and completely in the swing, if only America could wait a few more months. No rest. Life at home has been tricky and the weight of the tour has pulled me in all different directions lately, but here I am, the one who placed the ad in the shop window has to own up to his words. Almost 45 years. I feel blessed. Glenn has had voice problems with his colds and flu but somehow he manages to get through each show pitch perfect, its impressive. Snot and gaul, all there in the lights.
I can’t explain the pain there has been behind the secenas but lovely Mrs Milk Tray has dealt with it all and I’m bruised but sheltered from the storm. Inside my head is the very worse place to be, the voices they speak so loudly sometimes and the fear that enjoys its self importance keeps me awake, in the dressing room, and in the bed. All I want to do is sleep but the voices they win all the time. Shut the F up. Back in the old days, the Three Tons days there was no concern for any of this just a mild tip of the hat to loose change. A few beers some Chinese food and a wobble back to the flat and that was that. The voices were present, just not so loud. Not so in my head. Pub life, everyone needs a thrill.
Highlights in the last few weeks have been a great show in London and some great shows along the way, Cambridge, Harrogate and Manchester, and Newcastle. All tight nights. Please lock me away. I’m taking stock of these feelings for future reference. America burns its images into my head, and I can now feel the distance of flight coming towards me, flying is the rock on which I always slip and fall. Its moving and hurting its coming towards me with each tick of the tock. On stage the vacuum of the song takes me and wraps me up in its arms, but its coming I can feel it. After each show I feel a certain strength coming from the occasion, and then in the morning its all gone. Mrs Milk Tray came on tour to help lighten the load and for me this was wonderful, we shared a few nice meals and some long drives together. Her constant look on life beams down like the sun. Sadly Lou went home from Newcastle and the tour rolled up north a bit further for a few more days. Some emails from fans have blown me away with so much love, see in my next blog what people think about what they see and feel. Its tender in those hearts and minds. Honest too. Nearly there……but where. The last week beckons like a big dog at the door writhing away, let me in. Time is precious every minute, but it soon passes us all by, Meanwhile Mrs D reads the tour itinerary and gasps and the next four weeks, and I look over her shoulder to gasp myself. Vortex of emotions.