1 It's a Times New Viking, Los Campesinos!, and Titus Andronicus musical snuggle in Ohio
Ellen Campesinos!
Ellen Campesinos! Tour Diary, Part 5
Straight-edge gangs, Security, and Beauty Bar: The Los Campesinos! bassist finds American irony in her last week of the tour
By Ellen Campesinos
Published: February 22nd, 2009 | 12:30pm
I am the bassist for the seven-member, Cardiff-based band Los Campesinos! and we are on a four-month excursion around North America starting with a 24-date tour around the East Coast. We will be performing in various college towns — supported by the mighty Titus Andronicus — as well as eating lots of Twinkies, waffles, and pickles in bags.
Tuesday February 10, 2009 — Grand Rapids
We are at the Ladies Literary Club today, which is a seated venue in Grand Rapids. A seated venue is another one of those “why?” venues, along with that time we played in a bomb shelter in Reading, Massachusetts.
I have two weeks off coming up (in New York), and then we start recording new songs, so I put my professional head on (it’s similar to the one I have, except the brow is more furrowed in concentration) and start learning some parts.
I’ll be honest with you, I’m one of those darned girly bassists who doesn’t know how to write music. If I had penis, I still wouldn’t know how to write music. It’s just the way that I’m built. But my hit factor on stage is fairly high. I rarely mess up, only because if I do then it’s noticeable to the others/embarrassing to myself. My motto is “be focused, enjoy yourself, and don’t fuck up”.
We go to a rubbish vegetarian café, one of the more disappointing meals on the tour, plus it’s hard eating out with the same people every night and not falling back into silence. I don’t do well with silence. I say inane things to fill the space. Look at those pictures. Tour’s over soon. You excited about tonight? I bore myself.
The audience stands up during the gig (thank God), and most come to the front of the seats, and do some bopping. We then drive for two hours to an Ann Arbor hotel to collapse in.
Wednesday February 11, 2009 — Columbus
We drive to Columbus, Ohio, to an art center [Wexner Center for the Arts] where we’re going to play on a stage within a stage, which is fine.
We get free tickets to the Andy Warhol exhibition, so I soak up a bit of pretentious, throwaway, commercialist art and wonder why Edie Sedgwick stole my hairstyle.
Our old tour friends, Times New Viking, live here and turn up to greet us pre-show with lots of alcohol and a wise-cracking friend called Tony. Tony tells me and Alek about all the different gangs there are in the area, including the “Stick-up Kids” and the “Straight-edge Gangs,” who I always thought were a peaceful people.
We have a security guard tonight (I don’t know why either) who informs us that Aretha Franklin was a bitch to work with, but Christina Aguilera was lovely. He also asks us if we have subways in the United Kingdom and advises that there is an oriental place we can eat in down the road that is “clean.” He is a bit of an interesting/borderline-racist character.
We play “Frontwards,” our Pavement cover, for the first time in a long time. It’s my sweaty, “panic” song, which I’ve got a small chance of doing tonight. Luckily, it goes really well and I want to high five everyone.
Afterward, TNV really want us all to go their practice spot to hang out, but Joe insists that we go to a bar instead so that there is a time cap on the evening’s fun. We do have a two-hour drive to the hotel, so it makes sense. We go to a “hip hop” bar where we dance and I have to pretend to drink a shot of whiskey (I hide it eventually, because I don’t need any more alcohol).
We stop at a truck stop about an hour into the journey all in high spirits, aka drunk fools. At the truck stop, we lift Todge up and “crowd surf” him around the crisp section before Neil attempts to do it single-handedly with Gareth, who falls on his face. Ouch.
Thursday February 12, 2009 — Swarthmore, Pennsylvania
We drive for seven hours to Swarthmore College for an uneasy show, as there appears to be some kind of tension (not sexual) between us and the inept promoter.
We’re sitting backstage having our dinner, when eight drunken students bumble into the dressing room. We’re informed that they are “security,” but one of them is drinking the whiskey we were meant to receive. This crack-force security team let more people then capacity into the venue after our tour managers tell them not to. They then bitch about him and shout “fuck you” at us whilst we’re on stage.
All this was done in front of Kelly, our merchandise lady, who spent the gig frantically trying to stop people from stealing things. The glace cherry on top of this cake-like situation was when one of the in-house sound crew knocked over my bass just before the gig started. He managed to break the G-string tuning peg and then sat in this little room to the right of me during the whole gig, cradling his head in his hands, rocking backward and forward. It was odd.
I haven’t even mentioned the douche bag with the corduroy blazer on who strolled back stage and asked if he could have some of our alcohol. I wouldn’t have minded if he seemed drunk or crazy, but he was acting like Ryan Philippe in Cruel Intentions: You’re an arrogant knobhead.
Friday February 13, 2009 — Boston
Boston. Last time we were here, I sang drunken karaoke with Avel. We performed “Like a Prayer.” The high notes were slightly out of our vocal range. Tonight’s show is sold-out to an incredibly responsive audience, who we decided to bore with the most songs we have ever played on stage at any time. It should be some kind of very specific world record.
It’s all a buildup to the Bowery Ballroom, where we’re going to play every song we know how to play, and then some that we don’t.
Champagne was drunk at the Boston show, because we don’t want to save it for when all the “important people” show up for the Glory Show, aka, The Important One at the Bowery. Well, I think that every show has been the important one, except maybe the Swarthmore one and that in-store in St. Louis.
Idiots of this gig: Stage right in front of myself and Alek, people are frantically trying to get our attention throughout the gig by waving Wales’ national emblem — leeks — in the air. If they were real fans they would realize that we aren’t even from Wales, and we abhor wasted leeks. We set them down by the side of the road to grow into leek trees.
Friday February 14, 2009 — New York, take one
Happy Valentine’s Day! Tyra Banks informed me this morning that even if I’m alone on Valentine’s Day I can still have fun, watch TV, drink champagne, and eat ice cream. Thanks Tyra, you are a condescending bint.
Thankfully, I’m not alone. My sister and my mum are coming to New York today, and I gave Alek a box of Cheerios for her present. We’re not in a lesbian relationship, I just like to give.
Tonight’s show is in New York. It’s the end of the tour, and it’s a sad time. It’s made even sadder by the fact that Tom’s whole pedal board stops working the third song in. Missing the lead guitar during one entire song is a bit disheartening at a sold-out gig. But then some loser shouts out: “is the bassist single?” I retort (for the first time ever) “That was rubbish! That was the worst chat-up line ever.” Everyone laughs at him. Feminism: 1; Men who are muppets: 0.
Saturday February 15, 2009 — New York, take two
I’m hung over because my mother and sister have come to visit me in the Big Apple/Banana, and we drank ’til 4 in the morning, putting the world to rights (or we might have talked about shoes, I forget).
My sister is too ill (hung over) to attend tonight’s second Bowery show, but my mum soldiers on. We somehow manage to get lost in the Chinatown area half an hour before I’m due on stage. We have to be escorted back to the Bowery by a fan that happens to be passing by; so thank you man with a ginger bob.
Harriet joins Titus Andronicus on stage for a rendition of Green Day's “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” and it all feels like the finale of a bad teenage drama, but in a good way.
The gig is a success and I pile on to Neil at the end in celebration. We have an after-show party at the Beauty Bar, where our tour laminates get us free drinks. Five are handed to one person, who takes a 20-odd drink order. The bar staff are not happy. I get too drunk too quickly, and my mum has to take me home. But hey, it was worth it. I hope we cross paths with Titus again some day in the not too distant future.
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For more information about Los Campesinos!, check out their MySpace.
Los Campesinos! will be on tour throughout winter 2009. For a handy-dandy list of dates, check their tour calendar.
Their new album, We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed (Arts & Crafts), can be found at fine music retailers near you.
Issue #35
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mike (over 2 years)
Ms. Campesinos: Allow me to express my deepest appreciation for the kind words extended in this latest entry. As you undoubtedly know, to be classed with the likes of Kermit, Gonzo, Fozzie Bear, and so forth is praise unparalleled Stateside. It shall not surprise you, I expect, to learn that I have been so favorably compared in the past (generally with a touch more specificity: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jg6xpBtUH4c). Though I hardly think I am deserving, please accept my warmest thanks. Humbly, A Man Who is a Muppet