RACKET FROM THE PIT: May 2010
Our roving musical reporter Backbone gives us the news from his UK and Europe tour with the Crazy Arm boys…
The Digest takes a new turn this month, as I spent the whole time on the road with my hillbilly boys, Crazy Arm, supporting FRANK TURNER throughout the UK and mainland Europe. So more of a tour diary than a gig round-up. I hope you don’t mind.
We kicked off the tour with a warm-up show in Huddersfield (Parish, 14 March) which, in hindsight, was a bad idea as I lost my voice. The next day, I spent the whole time drinking Throat Coat tea (miracle tea, as I call it) as we drove to Newcastle for the first of 21 shows with FT and company. Miraculously (toadaso) my voice found itself just in time to play the Northumbria University main hall. I think we nailed it. This constant battle to maintain my voice continued over the next three weeks, with Throat Coat fighting from one corner, and cider/whisky coshing my larynx from the other. I would, of course, have pushed the alcohol righteously to one side if it had not been for the selfless generosity of one man and his endless supply of Jamesons whisky: CHUCK RAGAN. The legendary Hot Water Music protagonist was the main support to Frank Turner on the UK dates, but in our eyes (and that includes Frank and all the grizzled punks in the crowd each night) the man is a leading light, a true hero and a living embodiment of authenticity. Endless neat whisky aside, Chuck also reigned supreme on the stage. Backed by DIGGER BARNES on double bass and JON GAUNT on fiddle – honest-to-goodness men with punk rock hearts – songs like ‘Glory’ and the heart-wrenching ‘Geraldine’ took on a whole new level of potency as the trio poured every ounce of sweat and soul into their acoustic brew. The fact that I was guesting on banjo and backing vocals by the first show; and that Simon was drumming by the third show; and that our friend Vicky Butterfield was co-singing ‘Geraldine’ by the fourth show (and making me weep for the first time in six years, dammit); and that all of Crazy Arm and crew were singing gang vocals by the sixth show comes as no surprise when you consider how all-embracing Chuck’s brand of folk music is designed to be. We all learned something those ten days and it’ll take more than a week of hangovers to forget it. On our day off, we followed Chuck Ragan over to Swansea to see him play a show with the mighty three-pronged assault of BANGERS, THE ARTERIES and LIVERS & LUNGS. Although the vastness of the Frank shows was something to behold (3000 people in London Roundhouse? How the fuck did we get here?!) it was heartwarming to get back to DIY roots and be part of a show where you could see the bloodshot whites of the fans’ eyes. And what’s more, Bangers played the show of their lives, to the sort of adoring crowd that the band should be enjoying worldwide.
So, alas, we said our teary, bleary goodbyes to Chuck, Jon and Digger, headed home for two days (during which I witnessed STRUNG OUT posit their tech-core wares upon a frivolous White Rabbit crowd) and set our sat-nav for Switzerland. This was the Euro leg of the Frank tour. We had a new driver with his own van too, which spells trouble as far as drunken band revelry goes. And it went. Due to a limited word count I can’t go into much detail so I’ll just keep to the highlights.
Germany. Awesome through and through. The shows in Wiesbaden, Hamburg and Bremen in particular were inspirational. We played in an ex-Nazi stronghold in Hamburg: a foreboding building that, if you were to destroy it, would require enough explosives to wipe out the whole city, according to folklore. We destroyed it that night. Sonically speaking, of course. On our day off, our perfect host, Digger Barnes (a Hamburg native), showed us around the impressive city and took us to the kind of smoky, dim-lit punk rock bar that I thought had died out with glue-sniffing.
Holland. Sweet. Eindhoven, Utrecht and Groningen were great shows not least because we stayed with some amazing and unusual people every night, even if I did nearly get in two fights over the three days. Oops.
Frank Turner was in particularly good form in Groningen. Flanked by a band of competent musicians, he proved that the skinny English troubadour persona can carry over to other countries with ease, not least because you don’t need a degree in sociology to relate to his universal themes and sunny-side-up melodies. Songs like ‘Try This At Home’, ‘The Road’ and the poignant ‘Long Live The Queen’ betray Frank’s punk rock roots and make for one hell of a rousing singalong. He ended each night in Europe with ‘Photosynthesis’, during which we all got up, grabbed instruments (well, guitar and drums) and sang our little drunken hearts out. Onstage bonding sessions are all the rage, chez ‘Arm.
More fun was had in Brussels, Lille (where I played a solo acoustic show because the venue – a barge – was too small for the band’s big sound) and an emotional grande finale in Paris (une ville merveilleuse!) before we headed home to the mellifluous sights and smells of Plymouth. Glad to be back? Only where my cat is concerned. The sooner we’re out on that tarmac again, stuffed into a van with no space to swing a soggy houmous sandwich or a pair of well-soiled boxers, the better. To the east, to the east…
Auf wiedersehen, afscheid, adieu, and see-ya bye. Backbone (johnsycash@yahoo.co.uk)
