the release of...
Rock Tour Diaries: Volume Two
funnier...and this time, with photos!
only with guitar, suitcase and an emergency sandwich, TV Smith continues his
journey around the world as a solo troubadour for the punk generation. Travel
with him as he discovers America, reveals the mystery of the Frankfurt green
sauce and finds out what happens when squirrels take crack and a duck flies in.
Be by his side as he witnesses the construction of the Totem To
Those Who See Beyond and the epic battle of B Bang Cider versus the flying
ants. Without leaving the comfort of your own home you too can be stranded in a
forest in Finland, lose all your belongings in the Czech Republic, learn how to
play swamp football, how to survive a fall from a three- storey building, and -
most importantly - how to feel human.
THE GENERATION GAP
SMITH DISCOVERS AMERICA
IN THE U.S.A.
TO FEEL HUMAN
WEST. NO VEST
VEGETARIAN IN SPAIN
THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NORWAY
YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS…
DUCK FLIES IN
RETURN OF THE EMERGENCY SANDWICH
is way over near the Polish border, where the land is heavily forested and
begins to rise up to the mountains. As we approach, the weather turns ugly.
Black clouds hang over the hilltops and rain slashes down as we edge the
minibus through the crowds of bedraggled people milling around the festival
site and park up among the tall fir trees around the back of the stage. There
is no undercover backstage area, and all the musicians are sheltering from the
rain in cars and minivans parked chaotically in the mud.
Apparently all those mobile phone
conversations I didn’t understand during the journey have achieved something:
I’m already on the running order, scheduled to play in about an hour, and from
the stage I can hear it being announced that I have arrived. Petr produces a bottle of red wine, pushes the cork through
with a knife, puts the Clash on the car stereo and we sit there for a while,
the rain hammering on the roof drowning out the sound of the band on
a thunderstorm breaks out right overhead. Lightning cracks around us and the
sky rips open with thunder. I sprint out through the rain to the back of the
stage to see how the crowd is taking it, and I’m amazed to see that most of
them are staying to watch the band.
impressive sight; a vast amphitheatre filled with thousands of drenched people,
the tree-lined hills rising up on all sides lit up by the near-continuous
flashes of lightning.
Dashing back to the van I’m grabbed
by a member of a band called Zona A who were on the same bill as me last time I played in the Czech
‘Hey TV! Do
you want to drink some red wine with us?’ he shouts, as thunder booms overhead.
‘Come and drink some red wine!’ He grabs me by the arm and we skid through the
mud to a large car already packed with people. Five of them cram into the back
and I’m honoured with the passenger seat to myself,
next to the driver.
‘Hah, TV, you are in First Class!’
laughs one of the girls in the back. ‘Now you have to plug in your laptop!’
Someone produces a litre bottle of red wine given by a friend in a group from
Italy called The Twinkles, and we pass it around while The Clash plays on the
car stereo. Well, you can’t have too much Clash. Or red wine; when the bottle
runs out another one appears. Then another. It’s quite
a party but there doesn’t seem to be any music coming from the stage any
more...I’d better go out and investigate.
The rain is easing off a little, but
the mixing desk has got a soaking so the band have had
to stop until it has dried out. The organisers say it
should take about twenty minutes, then the band will finish off their set and
I’ll be on straight after that. So, back to the car with Zona A and their friends, where another bottle has
appeared. How much did The Twinkles bring with them?
Among the trees behind us I notice someone
attempting to move a large camper van out into the steep forest track, which
now resembles a fast- moving stream. The van slithers sideways in the mud down
the slope towards a tree and breaks off a large branch, leaving the splintered
remains poking into the side of the van and wedging it firmly where it is.
Everyone stands around in the rain pondering the situation, but there doesn’t
seem to be any way to move the vehicle without ripping a hole through the
bodywork. The driver comes over to our car, shrugs his shoulders and takes a
glug of the wine. Then a soaked figure comes running through the mud
triumphantly waving a saw and proceeds to shin up the tree and cut the jagged
branch back to the trunk. The driver jumps back in and pulls the van safely
into the path to a cheer from the onlookers. What a great show!
Unlike my show, which
your copy, send £12 (P & P included) to: TV Smith, P.O.Box
30836, London W12 9GD
(Cheques in UK Sterling only made out to "T.Smith," or PayPal to firstname.lastname@example.org)
being taken now!
GETTING THERE. Punk Rock Tour Diaries: Volume One