By the way, the rehearsal space doesn’t have a bathroom. It’s literally just a garage with some carpet and some speakers and stuff. It has a great sound system, and as a room it sounds excellent, but there’s no place to pee. Coffee is the only thing keeping me upright these days and that only wants to ride around so long before it has to go.
Now, there are two Public Toilets down the street and around the corner at Clapham Junction Station. These mechanical public toilets cost 10p to use, but one of them is either broken or it’s permanently occupied, and the other won’t take my 10p coin. I had to slip behind them last night and pee in the bushes. Today, without the cover of darkness, I had to work something else out. There’s a pub even further up the road from the station, but it’s a long walk, we have work to do and by the way, MY LEGS HURT.
Last night, Parker and Daniel were drinking Stella Artois in big 16 oz. cans. There were a couple of empties in the space.
So I peed in one of these empty Stella cans. Not out in front of everyone, mind you. I stood behind the big curtain at the door. Then I went outside and poured the contents into the gutter. I only tell you this because someone happened to walk by while I was out there dumping it. I probably had a look of general distaste on my face, because this wasn’t a task I relished. So, this guy is walking by, sees the can in my hand, the look on my face and that I am pouring it out, so he says “Yah, that stuff is piss, innit?”
Oh, buddy. You don’t know how right you are….
The show tonight was fantastic. The promoter, the club owner, the guy who books the bands and Kim from the label, they were all thrilled with the Low Lows. We had great dynamics, good enthusiasm, and we played very well. All in all, a great show.
Also saw the mighty W.I.Z.- film and video director and a good friend. He enjoyed the Low Lows as well. We went and had a curry and he caught me up on the latest Cockney rhyming slang, all of which is too filthy to mention here.
W.I.Z. got a call while we were sitting in the Kilburn pub, which is where we were eating, and I had the opportunity to people-watch. I saw two guys who looked like old friends, and they were talking. One of them had a big nose. While I was watching, the other guy made some sort of crack about the nose, I think. He grabbed his own noise, then pointed at his buddy’s, then threw his head back and had a laugh.
Bignose wasn’t having any of it, and he made a facial expression I have only ever seen the British use, and it was perfect. With the slightest change of his expression, mostly just a slackening of the jaw muscles, a subtle roll of the eyes, and a slight pursing of the lips, Bignose managed to communicate all of the following:
“Yeah, I got a big nose. Go ahead, you can have some fun at my expense. But you should know how horribly, horribly this disappoints me. I mean, I knew you would say it eventually, but I had hopes that you wouldn’t sink to it. God, sometimes you’re boring.”
All of that was communicated with the mildest tilt of the head, a little downturn at the edges of the mouth, and a brief but beseeching glance around the room to see if anyone less BORING was hanging around looking for someone to talk to. I was stunned by the subtlety and conciseness of the gesture. Pure poise. Must be an English thing.
It’s half past three in the morning, and I am probably babbling from fatigue… but I won’t be falling asleep too soon, since I have discovered that they sell the Lindt super dark chocolate bars here for £1.00. These are the same chocolate bars that sell in the US for $4.00 each.
So, I have to wait for the sugar buzz to wear off.
After the show, I was hanging out after the show and was informed that there were two women there who had come to see the Low Lows, because they were FRIENDS OF JEREMY! (that’s the Low Lows’ regular drummer, for those of you just joining us.) I felt like such a turd… here is a woman and her friend who have traveled out on a weeknight (a worknight!) to see an old friend, only to find that some other guys has not only stole his tambourine, but he’s PLAYING IT behind JEREMY’S BAND. They managed to hide their disappointment well.
Jeremy, if you’re reading this, we tried to be entertaining and gracious hosts. Don’t hate me.