by Tyla Pallas
So here’s a few things I picked up such as the ‘Dead Room’. The what? You may ask - same as me when I was standing waiting for the loo in the centre of the plane right by my seat as well it was. Had I been a lazy bastard I could have stayed in it and informed anyone who came along that I was next in line for the loo - but I chose to stand, as it was the only suggested form of exercise on a long haul flight, like this one I was on to Toronto. So there I am staring out the small window and occasionally looking at the toilet door waiting for the light to go off an whoever is in there to vacate it so I can have a wee. I’m joined by a fellow from upper economy, I gazed over his shoulder but couldn’t really see what difference there was to my seat in bog standard economy, I did have a wander around and fancied getting chair where you could put your feet up and face backwards if you like, but I’ve always had my heart set on the first class lounge of a Jumbo where you can walk about like a 1970’s cocktail bar and then having my own bed to lie on should I feel the need to be horizontal while cruising a couple of miles up kissing the ozone.
- It could be the dead room. Said my fellow passenger, casually.
- You what? My eyes looking neither out the window or up at
the light.
- The Dead room. An average of 200 people die on planes, mainly long hauls every year. He stated in his, well I don’t know, Canadian/American. I’m not very good with accents, and it turned out he was actually British, Anyway.
- Yeah. He continued.
- I mean go figure, if someone dies, (he sounded American) you can’t really turn around or even land if you’re across a big span of water like the Pacific, or in our case here the Atlantic.
I looked at the little map with the plane on and noted we were heading for Greenland.
-Yeah I suppose so. I agreed.
He carried on, the pressurized cabin obviously over exciting him being able to pass on this knowledge to a stranger at 30,000 feet.
- So they either discreetly cover the stiffs with a blanket and they get to fly 1st Class for free, (obviously, but these days I wouldn’t put it past an airline to say, oh I’m sorry we had to upgrade him so that’s two grand please missus!) going on the fact that they didn’t meet their maker there, in 1st class that is. Or if 1st class is a bit on the full side, they put the deceased in a toilet and hang a ‘out of order’ sign on the outside.
- So you reckon we could be standing outside the ‘Dead Room’ then do you? I replied deadpan.
-Well you never know.
At that moment the light went off and the door slid open and out came a little Asian gent.
- A miracle! I exclaimed and went in for a wee.
I was sitting next this family with a giant baby that didn’t fit in the basket provided by the airline. It looked quite funny, as the parents weren’t on the tall side at all. It had this big head, long body the size of an average 3 year old, but he was only 1 year old. (I asked) And as bald as a coot! Anyway in my sobriety I not only gave away my idea for a Formula 1 fuel tank, before they decided to abolish refueling I also told him I was going on tour in Canada and the US. So he kept wishing me luck for the tour.
As I stood in the long line at Canadian customs I looked across and there he was waving. I thought any minute now he’s going to shout…
- GOOD LUCK WITH THE TOUR!
I hadn’t obtained a work visa. I’d been through all that shit years ago. It’s a nightmare and in the end you can be denied a visa, then you can’t even sneak in because it will show up on your record that you’d applied all that jazz. So I just blag that I was on holiday if any questions are asked. I mean its not like I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone and Larry King had me booked on his show and Letterman was meeting me at the gate while Jay Leno sat outside in the unloading and loading only area in one of his quarter of a zillion dollars automobile now is it? Luckily enough he didn’t shout but then this over zealous customs cop asked me,
- How many bags do you have and how many days are you staying?
- Three. I replied.
He immediately raised an eyebrow and sent me to room number XYZQ to await orders. After quite a short while, mainly due to me being the only person in room XYZQ I was summonsed to the desk where an Afro Canadian woman began to interrogate me.
-Name, reason for travel - where are you staying
- who with - what do they do - how long are you going to be in Canada, - do you know the Queen etc – And- Oh and are you famous?
- No I replied
- You look famous.
I blushed and looked coy, nibbled my little finger and giggled.
- So Sir from what you’ve told me you met a guy on the Internet and he has invited you to come to Canada and stay in his house for three days is that correct. (I could see this might seem a tad strange in hindsight, but it was the case and I was telling the truth) Then you are going to make your way down to Detroit where you will enter the US on a vacation. Do you have your friend who you’ve yet to meet telephone number?
-Yes. And I gave her the number
She called up Bruce, I heard her say.
-You sound English too.
He explained his parents were British and he had dual citizen ship or something like that and she hung up looked at me stamped my passport and bid me fair well.
I walked though customs bold as brass thinkin’ to myself, this place is as bad as the UK - they let any fucker in!
Bruce greeted me with his big smiling face. We had never met before, but we got on straight away and have been friends ever since. (He also has the prize for making me the biggest 50th birthday card for me - that’s about 12 feet high, its not one I can throw away now is it?). I did the gig in Toronto and spent a few days in the snow of Hamilton Ontario managing to somehow destroy Bruce’s toilet and flood his cellar. It was an accident Guv’ honest.
By the kindness of his friends namely Johnny Bud so called because yes he drinks Budweiser but also he has memorized that spiel on the label and Adam we crossed the Ambassador Bridge over the Detroit River and were pulled aside by customs.
- Name, reason for travel - do you know the Queen - are you famous? Oh and being as this was now the Good Ol’ U S of A …Ever committed a felony? To which Johnny Bus pipes up. Out loud as well!
-Yeah I did once.
Me and Adam looked at each other in amazement!
Turned out he got done for scrumping or something. Put it this way you wont see footage of him at the Johnny Cash Folsom prison gig.
They took my fingerprint from my big thumb of my right hand. (I didn’t ask, or make any smart remarks, it does you no favours) They photographed my retinas and bosh stamped my passport. I was in with a 3 month do the fuck what you like visa. These guys are crazier than the Canadians; they’ll let any fucker in! And a convicted Granny Smith felon to boot!
Next plan was for Johnny and Adam to drive me to my rendezvous with Sioux City Pete and his tribe. Pete had set up a bunch of gigs, which spanned most of the USA. He was, and still is a character. As we say in Blighty he’s away with the fishes, but his fishes swim merrily along with him, and so I chose to dive in the river too…for a while.
We drove around a very, very windy, bitterly cold and deserted Detroit for a good 30 minutes before we located the address and a van double-parked with the doors wide open. An I Mean open wide and guitars in full few out of their cases, with even the leads (chords) still plugged in. I say a van, it looked, abandoned. It was held together with gaffa tape, and I mean old gaffa tape that’s been on for years…the kind that peels off and all you are left with is the sticky goo, that never comes off, I know it graces various musical items I own, Fender twin, Gibson acoustic etc.. If it was parked anywhere except this suburban Detroit street, it would have been blown up in a controlled explosion. But this was Detroit. I spotted a guy 2 yards up the street standing on a porch looking, well looking at us through milk bottom bottled glasses with his nose scrunched up, he walked down the steps and in our direction. His gait was that
not un like Sir Keith circa 1973. He spoke in joined up drawl that basically said…
- Hi man. Pete, C’mon in.
We smoked a spliff.
- Did you bring that with you Johnny? I said slightly amazed.
- Nah man, Adam did.
Being sober was a sobering thing I thought to myself. But I didn’t have a drink, just a cup of tea. American Tea is not good, nor is their milk, but I managed. After that I drank red bull all night. Not a good idea.
The gig was freezing and I manned my own merchandise stand. Did quite well once people realised it was me. Guess I would be surprised to see me at the merch stand all alone, drinking red bull, shivering! It was colder in the club that it was out of it. But it was a good show even if the boss told me he wanted to lock up after I’ been playing for a half an hour, as it was curfew, the opening bands had gone on for a while lets say. At least I got paid.
Next day in once we had chipped the ice off the van, both inside and out we headed for Cleveland via Pizza and red bull shop, I opted for huge family size cans of Monsterizer or something taurine glucuronolactone orientated. At least the heater worked. I enquired as to how old this contraption was and it was going to be able to take us the whole length and depth of the United States of America. One of the drives was from Chicago, Illinois to Phoenix Arizona, non-stop there were no gigs en route. Not such good financial planning, but the more time I spent in the US and the more often I could get a fix of the world wide web, the more shows I could string together the better it worked out. Cleveland Ohio was even colder, but the colder the weather the warmer the folks. You can ask any of my American friends or fans. I don’t like Americans on whole, but then I don’t like most people on a whole, not blinkered bigots that for sure. But everywhere I went on this US and Canadian trip I met nothing but friendship, apart from one English bloke in LA but you can’t win ‘em all eh?
And so three days in and old faithful blows a fuse and gives up the ghost. I don’t know how many vans or cars or even buses I’ve been in that have died, but I am getting to think I’m a jinx, ha!
And so, to the hiring of transport in America. I had a the credit card but Sioux City Pete had a the license. Never the twain shall meet. Somehow we entered Philadelphia in a rented box van. Room for three in the cab, room for a village in the back, and a drummer. It was spacious, but not in the right space.
The gig was great, but I was beginning to cough up green slime. On route to the next show, we were told it had been moved to a coffee shop on the highway. We turned up and was greeted by a man in a dress wearing sneakers. Now I have no qualms with a man choosing to wear a dress, but with sneakers? One could only assume he was a disciple of Mr. Cobain. We chose not to perform and headed for an 8-ball motel room somewhere in Pennsylvania. We were on our way to New York. Again everything has changed since 9/11 in America, no more so that in New York. We almost had to go through customs to get in, and again with great ease we entered. Again the gig be it sparsely decorated with followers of le rock and zee roll was a jolly good night out. I came in a van but I left in a limo, well a town car. A very kind couple, Patrick and his wife put me up for the night. Next day was New Jersey and feeling rougher than rough. If this is what no drinking does than can stuff it, I still didn’t have a sip, I didn’t actually feel like one. I sold merch off the bar. Twas a good eve. Again another couple put me up in their castle in Long Island, Bill and Tisha and their kids. I started on the liquid Nyquil day nurse. I laughed at Bill gob smacked that I had stayed in their house and that he carried my bag of merch and guitar through central station. It weighed a ton! Cheers guys, I’ll see ya again one day with my family! On the train to Boston solo I set myself up in the buffet car in a far corner table, but the guy serving was so insistent on shouting his conversation to me I eventually moved up to the counter and took a stool there for free coffee and Pizza.
-Yeah so youze in a band yeah? My brother-in-law is the singer in Boston, Boston the band yeah. Wanna nuther Corfeee man, let me hit ya up there!
It was like talking to Peter from Family Guy. Brilliant! Now the gig I was doing in Boston, well I was doing two gigs in Boston. One, the first was a private one. Cool guys, cool stories, that’s their book. The fed and watered me and also had the biggest dog I had ever seen, the kid on the plane should get one when he grows up. That would freak people for sure. Sounding American I’ve only been in the country a goddam week! Shit!
Boston was a blast. I’ve taken to singing the last few shows without the aid of a PA. Believe it or not it’s made my voice better and stronger. I bet I wasn’t supposed to do that either. I do everything the opposite way. I’m even writing this book backwards!
You might have noticed there’s no sign of Sioux City Pete, don’t fear they are driving to the shows, next one being Chicago, where they have been driving to from Jersey. I’ve opted for train and now plane, thanks to the generosity of Jo Public and my merch. CDs/DVDs, books and art, which I am drawing as I travel on any available table, mainly in my hotel/motel rooms along the way.
I liked the motel I was in in Boston, big room, big bed, clean and cheap and so I got the desk to book me a room at their Chicago one, as it was a chain, ……
Now if I thought it was cold in Detroit, Scott of the Antarctic should have tried getting here! Maaaannnnnnnn it is bitter with that ice-cold wind blowing in off Lake Michigan brrrrrr. I found a great art shop and got some supplies. I got a newspaper and saw the Pogues were playing in town. I thought, well I still aint had a drink of the sauce been over two months now, if I go to the Pogues I’m bound to have a sherry, or twelve. I stayed in the warmth of my Motel room drinking tea, ordered a Pizza and painted pictures and listened and watched American TV, now there’s something I like, Old American films. 30s 40s 50s great, old thrillers, cowboys and Indians, propaganda at its best! Next day SC Pete and his crew turned up at my lodgings and we drove to the gig. It was ice-cold February snow was lay frozen under foot. The bar was packed a good sign. I set up my merchandise stand and fucked off for a Mexican meal with Kim and Lauren, who happened to be the wife and Girlfriend of the two guys who booked the show. Rich and Eli. If I recall it was Eli who helped sell my merch and after the show we went for eggs at an all night Diner called..eer Hollywood..er yeah the Hollywood Grill. I loved Chicago of all the cities I visited, and I visited a lot as I will tell you as this story goes on…..so I decided to make it my base which lasted for about 6 months bar my time back up in Ontario, Niagara Falls et all!
So here’s what Eli mailed me…
Eli- Here's what I remember... You played the first show here at the Liar's Club in Chicago, we picked you up from the Howard Johnson hotel in downtown Chicago and we were always eating at the Hollywood Grill. I'm not sure if you still have it but Lauren made you a scrapbook of your time here right before you split.
Anyhow Estelle's is the name of the bar where that guy asked you if you had any rails. After that night I went back to my motel room, called the Heart Of Chicago’ Eli told me all the old blues guys used to stay here, so yer dam right I’m gonna! Yeah this guy asked me, you got any Rails? I’m like, what the fuck are Rails?
- Rails man! Fuckin Rails……mimics snorting a line off the bar….COKE! Fuckin Cocaine man RAILS!
- No sorry mate.
So I went right on home, room number 7 the Heart of Chicago and wrote the songs, music, lyrics the lot, in one foul swoop. It’s knockin about on one of my albums, oh yeah Bloody Hell Fire!
- There was also a show at the Double Door where you opened for all these heavy stoner rock bands, including Fu Manchu. You did a gig at Quenchers with Kevin Junior (which we have on tape), you did a gig at the Debonair club with The Steepwater Band (we also have on tape) and a few gigs at that place next door to the Double Door (I think called the Phoenix), and then there was the Alice Cooper opening slot at the Riverside Theater in Milwaukee. You also did a show at a place called the Brauerhouse in the suburbs (I missed that gig).
Anything else? I a
ctually just came across some songs you demo'd at our place. I don't think you have them. I'll send you the CD. Let me know if there's any other info you need. We've got pictures and lots of video from that time period. Do you remember going to the racetrack and I think you were the only one that won anything? You rode your bike a lot and I think you even got hit. What else? Can't wait to read this thing!
You and the familia are always welcomed here. Eli. Well Eli, you’re in it. I stayed at their apartment for a few weeks, cooked my infamous tomato sauce and pasta, threw knives, played the $200 jukebox to death, smoked Pot, drank beer, vodka, wine, eat a lot of red shnapper! Ha!
We would go down to the Ghettos on a Saturday night and just drive around watching everyone jive mutha fuckers. I saw little Ed play and helped Rich change his strings. Which were black! Black guitar strings! I Saw the Holmes Brothers play and sell their CDs off the front of the stage, something I got into on the tour, I’d play with my guitar case on stage, cause I didn’t trust it being where I left it, and people would throw money in my case on top of my fee from the door money, so I did just fine, damn I’ve always done fine. I even learned to talk American. Seven years in Spain, had a vocabulary of well over a hundred words, yet not the capability to string a sentence together, disgraceful behavior on my part, but a hell of a lot of Catalans have better grasp of the, well I wouldn’t say the English language but a language other than their own native tongue. Cabrone! (That’s Bastard in Spanish, of course my vocabulary as in most of the foreign languages involved most of the available swear words.
And so it was from Chicago the next gig was Phoenix Arizona. SC Pete chose to drive, I went ahead by air and would meet them there, three days later!
Phoenix, Now I was in real cowboy and Indian territory, Tucson, how many times had I heard that name in films, and in my fav show as a kid at 7.30 pm every Mon on BBC2. The High Chaparral. Buck, Blue Boy, whenever they went to town to drink whisky and have a fight and fall in love, usually with the wrong woman, it would be Tucson.
