no fashion for bands on tour:part 1

                          

I’m back and I don’t have much to say about clothes today, but I have just got back from tour en France avec Johnny Foreigner et Pharaohs. It was far too short, I’d just got going and it was all over. I’ve decided to convert my below avergae fashion blog into a tour blog. A tlog. 

It is Wednesday night and it is around 1am and I’m going to France in 1.5 hours and I haven’t packed or sourced my passport. But it’s ok, don’t fret, I packed and I found it so that’s that done. They say open with a grabbing…uh opener right? 

We arrived at Tri Postal in Lille and met Papa Jeff who is also very sexy and though writing Papa and sexy in the same sentence is a little unsettling, it’s true. The venue is super cool and I feel super untrendy. We meet Pharaohs, well 3/4 of Pharaohs as Jonny is poorly. They tell me their names and when I hear the drummer is called “Inny” I say “oh. really?” however, turns out he’s a babe so it’s OK that he has a fake name. They made some ace food for us and there was squabbling “How come you got balsamic and I didn’t?” but aside from that it was ideal.

The gig was great, Pharaohs nailed it to say they were without their frontman and JoFo carried on with traditionally cocking up the first gig of tour and we, Maldini, were a solid 6/10. First gig done and I’ve never been so tired. Despite a vomit ridden toilet and sharing with Andy Malsnoring I managed a cracking 7 hours sleep. 

Quick sexy food breakfast, Joe eats an entire Camenbert and remains a skinny twat, van journey of approx 3 hours, arrive Paris at L’international. In short, this was the best Friday night of my days ever. Getting bored of sentences, here are some bullet points:

• The sound woman knows her stuff, incredible stage sound.


• Cous cous.


• We meet Jonny and his Mum.


• Joe suits faux fur.


• There is a big crowd.


• Pharaohs play.


• We play.


• JoFo play.


• Guillaume’s gay brother Max is terribly handsome.


• We all get very drunk and I flash Lex, fondle Inny, kiss gay french men and forget decking it in the dressing room. 


• We leave gear. oops.


• OH AND SHIT MAN LEST I FORGET! We danced on the fucking bar! In true Coyote Ugly style the bar maid sprayed us all with water, never been as happy. 

Here are some photos ….

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We made use of our friendship and did a few special appearances in JoFo’s set. This is Tim rocking out to one of JoFo’s new power ballads. One of my faves.

Andy was a trooper and drove the van with lots of drunk people in it to our hotel where we slurred broken french at the receptionist and then slept. We left at “10am” (11am) and prepared for the potentially shit 6 hour drive ahead. There was a badly designed petrol station that played music but as far as I’m aware there was no other point of interest on this stretch of the journey. 

We arrive at L’Orient and it’s all a bit grey and it smells badly of fish and all I can think about is food which was soon resolved with a bloody good spread of cheese, pea soup, bread, leaves and meat with some splendid wine. Moods improve instantly. 

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Again, the sound was VERY GOOD. But our green room was ALSO GOOD as it had two pianos and luckily Cornish is a stunning pianist so he provided the talent, Jeff clambered onto the grand piano as a slinkily dressed woman would, it tickled me. 

Jesus, I’m slowly forgetting everything that happened. I’ll finish this part with the pre-hostel visit as that part is particularly funny. I felt as though this backstage time was a lovely time for good old conversation. Mr Joe Pharaohs has a seriously high quality of banter. We discussed J cloths, wind and timed laughter. I know right? Inny made a sturdy leg rest and I poured my heart out to Guillaume in stunted Franglais. We had two backstage visitors who decided we weren’t rock n roll enough and I took an instant dislike to both of them and wished they’d leave. I think one of them groped Kelly, those lesbians eh? Then again, Kel is nuff sexy so I totally get it. Unfortunately I can’t write down all the fun piano singalong stuff, I’ll leave that for Bloggy Foreigner, because I was loading the fuck out of the venue. I heard it was fun though. NOT BITTER AT ALL PROMISE.

I’ll continue this tomorrow, probs.

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