LEATHERFACE RIP
With
the announcement that 'Big Ugly Fish' records have ceased operations, it
confirmed what everybody already knew, Leatherface were finished. Leatherface
bass player, Graeme Philliskirk, ran the label and it had released the final
Leatherface album 'The Stormy Petrel'. It was no secret that the band were
finished after a number of behind the scenes activities that have taken place
over the years, and with no gigs since 2012, we knew deep down that there would
be no more. Still we never gave up hope, and knowing the fact that the band had
recorded a whole host of extra material during the Stormy Petrel Sessions, we
thought at least we may get a final release, yet with the closing down of Big
Ugly Fish, it is clear that a final nail has been placed in an already secured
coffin. However,
after their first split in 1992 and return in the early 2000’s, nobody ever
thought that Stubbs & Hammond would reunite, and they did. So we still, as
the last song on the last album states ‘Never Give Up Hope’.
Here is a design I made to pay homage to that final line up
of the second phase of the band:
CHRIS ‘BIG
ROCK’ SCHAEFER RIP
This is a difficult one for me. I have never spoke about
this incident publicly. It affected me in a way that the death of a family
member has in the past. I only spent a couple of weeks of my life in and around
the company of this man, which just goes to show how much of an impact he had,
and furthermore, how close touring and travelling can bring people together.
For those who don’t know, Chris was the tour driver,
merchandise man, and spiritual adviser for Leatherface for many years, who
suddenly died in his flat in Prague from Carbon Monoxide poisoning. A sad and
unexpected end to a life. Original story here: http://blogs.ocweekly.com/heardmentality/2013/01/adolescents_driver_and_tour_ma.php
The only way I can sum up his life and how I felt, is to reproduce the post I
made on his memorial page, shortly after his death.
“I knew Chris, aka Rock, from my time spent being a
roadie on part of two Leatherface tours. Having spent time on many different
tours, one I thing I can be for sure about Chris is that he was a master of his
profession. His planning, organisation, and awareness were second to none. Not
only that, he was also a caring, frank, and friendly individual. I'm so warmed
to read other peoples testaments, and see how much of a positive impact
he has had on other peoples lives. I feel fortunate to
have spent time in his company. One thing can be sure, is that Chris knew how
to party just as hard as he liked to work - his inside knowledge of the circuit
was fantastic, and he always had a great story to share. I met Chris as a
stranger, and he welcomed me like a son. I always felt cared for in his
company. I'll never forget the times I spent with him, and his passing is a
great loss to our worldwide punk-rock family. Hopefully his legacy will
continue to inspire future generations to come”.
Big Rock RIP
LEATHERFACE – ‘THE LAST’ TOUR
This article originally appeared in ‘Ont Road’ Fanzine,
issue 18, in paper format, as an A5 booklet – for those that remember printed
matter. I still have 50 copies left if you want a physical hard copy, send me
£2 post paid to my paypal account: ska1ska@yahoo.com
if you are interested. Email me at the same address if you want to order in
bulk.
The article was written about the first leg of the final
Leatherface tour in 2012, and represents a snap shot in time; providing a rich,
insightful, and fanatical insight into one of the best punk-rock bands of all
time. It is one of the pieces of work that I am most proud of, and I hope that
this brings back happy memories of the band that are hidden in your unconscious.
Leatherface
- Tour of the USSR & Finland
“And I have many things, I have dreams. And I have many
things, I have my place in the scheme of things”
Cast: Frankie
Stubbs (Vocals), Skruff Owen (Drums), Graeme Philliskirk (Bass), Dickie Hammond
(Guitar), Mick Jones (Guitar), Big Rock (Driver / Merchandise), Lukas
Schwarzbrennen (Roadie)
I received a
text message from my mate Tom, who was attending their first gig of the tour in
Cambridge, saying that Frankie Stubbs was only doing vocals as he had his arm
in a sling, and that they had a replacement guitarist with them. I wasn't sure
whether it was a wind up or another twist in the ongoing Leatherface saga.
Their three and a half week tour was set up around four shows that had been set
up for them in Finland, taking in Germany, Poland; their first ever gigs in the
Baltic States, and the rest of Scandinavia en route. The band is so committed
to working with Rock that they paid him to drive from his home in Prague to
Sunderland, so that they can do the whole tour with him. Having recently toured
Australia, Germany, USA (last minute cancellation), and the UK, it was time for
Leatherface to sail on through their 'Stormy Petrel' world tour.
Ucho -
Gdynia, Poland
As is the
case with most solo voyages, I was engulfed with a feeling of apprehension
throughout my journey from Leeds-Bradford to the Lech Walesa airport in Gdansk.
It had been a mild winter back home - barely touching zero - and stepping into
the freezing February air of northern Poland was a brutal awakening of minus in
double figures. The bus to the neighboring city of Gdynia was not due for a
while, so I sat in the arrivals lounge watching the countdown clock to the Euro
2012 football championships. Prior to the commencement of building the new
stadium for the event, there was such a labour shortage in the region that
local businessmen had to make journeys to the UK, to cities such as
Peterborough, to tempt Polish workers back home.
I supped a
beer on the bus, feeling smug that I had covered myself in so many layers of
clothing. By the time the bus arrived in the center, I jumped off on a street
that I recognised the name of, from my poor quality map that I had printed out
from the internet. As I traversed the dark streets on a hopeful mission in
search of the venue, I was feeling satisfied with my new pair of boots, the
first I had bought for 10 years. Who'd a thought that a 15 pounds pair of boots
bought from Leeds market would've lasted so long? My man-nav was spot on, and I
arrived at the entrance to hear Leatherface kicking into 'Dead Industrial
Atmosphere' - how fitting for the declining ship industries of neighboring
Gdansk, which have been betrayed by the ruling party Solidarnosc, despite being
the striking influence for the collapse of Soviet communism.
As soon as I
stepped into the venue, I was greeted by an old acquaintance, and former
migrant himself, named David, who had a famous catchphrase during his time in
England, which he greeted me with instantly, "When I was your age",
before handing me a mound of snuff and a drink of his beer. That was the warm
welcome I have always been accustomed to from the Poles.
I made my way
through the crowd, and found a spot to the stage right. If appearance was the
only judge, then you wouldn't have been scolded for thinking that Adam Ant was
fronting the band, as Frankie Stubbs, strutting around the stage, was decked
out in a tall black hat, funky colorful sunglasses, and an arm draped in a red
& white sling, made from a Sunderland FC scarf. The rumors were true, and
it turns out that the reason his collar bone was broken, is that after a night
on the drink, he fell off a bicycle on the way home from Graeme’s house, five
days before the one month tour of Europe was about to begin! Rather than
cancel, Dickie Hammond managed to hunt down a friend of his, Mick Jones, who
plays in Red Alert, and persuade him to stand in for the tour. Given the fact
that he only had two practices before the tour, and this was only the 6th gig,
he was doing a damn fine job as a stand in guitarist. In fact, it's probably
the first time I have ever seen a member of Leatherface jump into the air
whilst playing a song!
The
penultimate song they played was 'Leningrad Vlad / Colorado Joe', which has the
catchy, sing along chorus of "U.S.S.R., U.S.Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa", which
again, was fitting, given the fact that the band were now playing gigs in the
former Soviet Satellite Republics. There were plenty of people in the venue,
and the pit was full of mosher kids, dancing around in their System of a Down
& Rage Against the Machine hoodies. Whilst I was having a smoke break after
the set, a young couple told me that the 'Ucho' is a legendary club in Gdynia,
dating back to the 1980s, where legendary Polish punk bands, such as Deserter
first started out.
The first
member of the band I bumped into was Frankie Stubbs and he said, "You know
son, you are one of the strangest people I've met, you always seem to turn up
in the oddest of places". I took that as a compliment. In other 'odd'
moments: during a toilet break, there were a huge gang of young skinheads
hanging out by the sinks, appearing to be holding a secret conference; and
whilst watching over the merchandise stand, the young lad working the cloakroom
was openly polishing a huge pocket knife - the threat of attack from fascist
hooligans is still a major problem in Poland; so much so that their football
hooligans are now regarded as the most fearsome in Europe. Welcome to Poland.
During the
loading of the van, Dickie kept us highly entertained by spar boxing, whilst
simultaneously making seal noises. There wasn't any carry out alcohol from the
gig, and given the length of the next day’s drive, it was straight back to the
hostel, and straight to sleep. I was solely grateful for somewhere to crash, as
beforehand, I wasn't absolutely certain whether I'd be able to stay with the
band, or even travel round with them for the next few days.
Cafe
Bix - Vilnius, Lithuania
Due to the
fact that the drive was going to take 10 hours, we were out of the hostel by
8am, leaving us just enough time to brush our teeth before departure. Breakfast
at the petrol station was the first order of the day, which provided a perfect
opportunity to stock up on Polish vodka. As we were leaving the city, Rock had
to do some sharp braking. Stubbs was lying down, and the force threw him into
the back of the seats in front, causing him to scream in pain, and utilise
every swear word in his vocabulary. The tour was already taking its toll. The
distance meant it was a painful journey for all of us, and it was eased by the
fact that we watched around 6 hours of David Attenborough documentaries. Dickie
was sat up front, and he kept us amused by occasionally mimicking the noises
that the animals made.
The gig was
in the main room of a cafe bar, and the band set up their gear on a small stage
tucked away in the corner of the room. This was going to be an intimate gig.
Despite the fact that it was a free gig, and it being on a Saturday night, the
attendance was not great. However, given the fact that this was the band’s
first time in the Baltics, they were just happy to be playing.
The most
heart-warming aspect was the two groups of Russians that had turned up. There
were four people from St. Petersburg who had driven down to see all the Baltics
shows, and two young girls from Moscow who had taken an 18-hour train journey,
just to see this gig. These two spent most of the night in the court of Frankie
Stubbs, who was clearly enjoying the fruits of his fame.
The gig
itself was nothing spectacular, just a standard affair, and unfortunately the
sound was hindered somewhat by the acoustics which weren't set up to
accommodate amplified music. The merchandise stand was situated right by the
stage, and I remember thinking before the set started that I should stand by
it, in case anyone falls into it. Given the fact that there weren’t many people
there, I decided it wasn't necessary. How wrong this call was to be. Shortly
into the set, a daft hippy that was stood at the front clearly had enough of
the music. Instead of walking back through the crowd like any sensible person
would, he just hoisted himself up onto the tables, managing to walk across the
first, before collapsing to the side, tipping the second table onto the floor,
and covering the display items in beer. Rock dealt with it in his usual calm
manner, and the hippy was never to be seen again.
After the gig
we sat down for a free meal, and I was impressed with the meat-free scotch egg
stuffed with vegetables. There was a disco taking place downstairs, which
wasn't that great, and bizarrely enough there were loads of deaf people who
were simultaneously dancing and communicating with sign language. Skruff and I
started to hammer the vodkas, and we were enjoying the company of some
enthusiastic locals. We were hoping that they were going to stay out and party
with us, yet these two young artists, who were at the start of their careers,
were briskly escorted away by their older protective siblings. Instead of
painting the town red, they were resigned to stroking their pallets.
The first
drama of the tour took place after we had finished loading the van. Skruff and
I were chatting to some random locals who were insistent on talking about
football - such is the peril of being British. I was trying my best to deflect
talk of Premier League football and educate them about the democratic
structures of fan-owned football clubs, yet they didn't seem to care. I gave up
the desperate act, and joined Graeme in the van.
A few minutes
later, Skruff appeared and told us that a different football fan had just
approached him, who reacted to Skruff's nonchalant attitude by lamping him one
in the face. Graeme was straight out of the van, and he proceeded to deck this
guy with three solid well-connected punches, which left him 20-feet away on the
floor, clutching his bloody face. Instant karma, made even sweeter by the fact
when it turned out that he was a Manchester United fan. One nil to the
Sunderland!
We had the
whole top floor dormitory of the hostel to ourselves, which had enough beds for
a Catholic family. Most people stayed up to drink a few cans, yet I was
straight out cold, having consumed more than my fair share of alcohol. Such is
life ont road.
Nakalab
- Riga, Latvia
I awoke
earlier than the others, and took advantage of the free shower. I didn't know
what time we were leaving, yet I was aware it wasn't a long drive, so I decided
to head out into the streets and dig as much of the place as I could. As soon
as I stepped out of the door I recognised the old fort on the hill instantly -
we were bang in the center. I took a brisk walk around the old town and then
settled in a local restaurant and tucked in to a traditional Lithuanian
breakfast - fried potatoes topped with herring and sour cream, washed down with
a pint of dark beer. That topped me up nicely, and I was back at the hostel in
time for the departure.
Everyone was
still feeling fruity from the night before, and the booze ban was instantly
broken by breakfast beers. That formed the basis for the first few hours of the
journey. I had my first in-depth chat with Skruff, whom I am closest to in the
band, probably due to the fact that he is a similar age to me, and enjoys the
pop side of punk rock. Ask him to show you his NOFX tattoo. He told me a
heartwarming story about his time with Leeds punk band Abrasive Wheels, which
he drummed in before joining Leatherface. He told me that he joined them as a
young punk-rocker, with no connections and very few friends in the scene. He
told me how lead singer Shonna took him under his wing during his early days,
letting him stay at his place when he had nowhere to go, and introducing him to
a lot of people. I guess we've all had the experience of older punks looking
after us in our early days - that's another thing that makes punk rock so
special.
I asked about
the booze ban, and Frankie happily shared the conditions of and the reasons
behind it. The booze ban prohibits any member of the band from drinking before
6pm. The first reason is that by the time they get on the stage, nobody is
going to be too drunk to play, and thus not letting down the fans. Frankie then
opens up and tells me that it was originally enforced by Laney, the former
drummer, as a means of controlling Frankie’s drinking habits, and now it has
become a rule that has to be adhered to by all members of 'The Boat' - a
colloquial term used by the band to describe themselves.
Frankie and
Rock then call the start of the booze ban for the day, and decided that it has
to be extended till 8pm due to the morning drinking. I decide to join in with
the ban for the rest of the tour as a mark of respect, and to not tempt others
to cast away onto the shore. Mick, being new to the band, pushes Frankie on the
matter, and tries to argue that he'll be OK. Frankie lays down the law, fully
explaining its logic, in a reasoned, wise, statesmen-esque manner - Mick
reluctantly submits. Dickie tries being defiant, yet Rock manages to snatch the
beer bottle out of his hand before he manages to open it. There is a reason
that all the alcohol in the van is usually locked away in the back with the
kit! During a stop at a petrol station, Dickie tries to coax me into opening a
bottle of my Polish vodka so he can have a cheeky swig. I had to step up and do
the right thing, sticking by the ban, and refusing his advances.
The venue is
situated right by the monument to celebrate freedom from the Russians, so I
recall the tale from my previous trip to the rest of the band. It was back to
usual gig standards, as we are treated to free food and free beer for the rest
of the night. The gig was in a large room with a tall stage, and it was well
attended for a Sunday night. Frankie was noticeably angry with the soundman
during the first few songs, and during the third one, he started to menacingly
stare directly at him, and he even changed some of the lyrics to curse him.
Thankfully, the soundman managed to pull it together, and any potential drama
is avoided for the rest of the set. Once again, they played 'Leningrad Vlad /
Colorado Joe', which felt so great to sing along to in a former Soviet
satellite state.
The group of
Russians from St. Petersburg was in attendance again, and it was nice to spend
some quality time conversing with them. I told them a story about when I was in
St. Petersburg for the cities 300-year anniversary, and how they changed the
name back to Leningrad for the day. One of them showed me a copy of their
passport, and being born in the 1980's it had 'Leningrad' listed as their place
of birth. How cool is that? We invited them backstage after the set, and I
brought in a rack of shot glasses that I got from the bar, and opened up a nice
bottle of mint vodka that I scored in Poland. We then proceeded to get drunken
Russian style, polishing it off in the space of 10 minutes.
In the
smoking room, Skruff, Mick and I had a nice chat about getting into punk rock
in our teenage years. Mick Jones (yes that is his full name!) told us a great
story about going to see Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros as a teenager. He
met him briefly before the gig, and Joe told him and his friends that he was
busy and that he would bring them in backstage after the gig. Mick thought that
he was just fobbing them off. After the show, and much to their surprise, he
honored their word and brought them all backstage, feeding them with beers, and
introducing them to everyone. Mick recalled how Strummer was a genuine good
bloke during that encounter, and it was great to hear that a punk rocker, who
has been a victim of such stardom, still remained true to his roots.
After the
show, we went back to the old town hostel, and nailed a few drinks in the bar,
chatting yows to anyone who would listen. There were only 6 beds in the room,
so I picked a nice spot on the floor and tried to go to sleep. Skruff wasn't
having any of it, and persisted on making me get into one of the spare beds.
Hammond and Jones were still up boozing.
Ulase
Anarchist Social Centre -Tallinn, Estonia
I awoke in
the morning to see Mick and Dickie curled up in a bed together, and I started
to feel a little guilty, even though I found it impossible to decline the
caring gratitude of Skruff the night before. It was early, and Mick was soon
awake, making a laugh and a joke about finding it impossible to sleep next to a
snoring Hammond. I decided to make amends for the situation, and take Mick out
into the old town for a spot of 'breakfast'.
We found a
kiosk at the top of the road. I made a token gesture at the fridge, by asking
Mick 'alcoholic or non-alcoholic?'. He laughed and didn't need to say anymore.
The best drink in Latvia is a mix of their local spirit Black Balsam, and
blackcurrant juice. It tastes like alcoholic Vimto. We sat on the chairs by the
window, and started supping; sharing life stories and putting the world to
right. It was 9am on a Monday morning - all the locals coming in to pick up
their convenience items must have thought we were insane.
As usual,
there was plenty of banter in the van, however, due to the booze ban
enforcement, tensions started rising again. Mick brought up the subject again,
and Dickie made his desires for the drink clear. Again, the ban had to be
justified. Frankie was making fun of Mick again, and this time it got to the
stage where he said 'Mick, I can't wait till we get back off this tour, because
the first thing I'm going to do is sack you. I've never sacked anyone before,
and I'm looking forward to getting back and telling you...you're sacked son'. I
couldn't ascertain whether he was being serious or not. I felt bad and somewhat
responsible for breaking the morning ban, yet it felt like the right thing to
do at the time. By the time we arrived in Estonia things had calmed down, and
our secret was safe.
In so many
ways, this was the best gig of the tour. It took place in an Anarchist Social
Centre, situated on the outskirts of the city center. It was located in a
warehouse complex - a few rooms hidden away on the first floor. The place was
full on - complete with anarcho-syndicalist flags, and a library. This is one
of the first such places in the country, and subsequently hosted the first ever
Baltic Anarchist Meeting during the NATO conference in Tallinn, in May 2012.
It was warm
and cozy inside, and the volunteers who worked there were super friendly. It
was great to see so many young people being enthused by anarchism. As
autonomous places tend to do, I felt a sense of freedom and liberation - an
environment I usually find myself most comfortable in. So much so, that Skruff,
Mick, and I jammed Linoleum by NOFX during the sound check.
There were no
other bands scheduled to play, so I joked to Skruff that MC Positive Bastard
could play. Thinking he would laugh it off, he actually started pushing for it.
I checked the files on my computer and it turned out I still had the
instrumental MP3s of my songs. Game on! I had to sit on my own for half an
hour, doing my best to recall all the lyrics to 'Crazy in Punk'. I managed to
remember seven of them, and created an impromptu verse for the missing one.
And there I
was, stood on the stage, on my own, with a room full of young Estonians stood
around, not knowing what to expect. It had been three years since my last gig,
which took place in an old brewery in Berlin. Despite the absence of playing
live, the alcohol and the adrenaline was enough to put me at ease. I started
off by introducing myself, and by thanking all the volunteers, giving a special
mention to the ones that do all the menial tasks, such as cleaning the toilets.
I then told the crowd that it was great to finally play a concert in the USSR,
which got a lot of laughs...and then it was go.
It was
surreal and heartwarming to have Frankie Stubbs stood right at the front,
heckling and staring at me throughout the song. The crowd warmed into it
quickly, and was singing along to 'Crazy in Tallinn right now' during the first
chorus. By the time I got to the improvised verse, it was time for some crowd
participation, and this is how it panned out: 'when I say punk, you say rock.
Punk rock, Punk rock. When I say Leather, you say face. Leather face, leather
face. When I say Nazi, you say bastard. Nazi bastard, Nazi bastard. When I say
Communism, you say shit. Communism shit, communism shit'. The crowd was hot on
that part. The song ended and that was that. I walked off to a good reception,
and felt great, as is usually the case after playing a show. I had a lot of
people coming up and talking to me, which always seems to happen with a far
higher frequency when I'm performing at a show.
The gig area
was a dark room, with the band playing on the floor, lit up by a single dimmed
light. There was a lot of space for standing, and couches covering a sidewall,
and around to the back. It was almost akin to a house show in a large living
room. Frankie was in a right state by the time they took to the stage. Even
though he had adhered to the booze ban, the pre-gig beers in the absence of any
food that day, was the reason for his state. After easing in with the tour
opener 'Never Say Goodbye', during the second song, Frankie stumbled past the
drum kit and knocked over a drum and a snare. No big deal, a member of the
crowd rushed up and fixed it and there was no need to stop the song. I had the
feeling that this was going to get better.
Then they
played the classic 'springtime', and it was obvious that Frankie had spent some
time drinking wine. Once again, he stumbled across the room towards the drum
kit, and leant over to try and give Skruff a kiss on the cheek. He didn't get
anywhere near, and collapsed akin to a felled tree, slow movements becoming a
thunderous crash. He had fallen right into the middle of the kit, wiping it all
out, causing the song to be stopped. Hilarious! Cue mild panic, and members of
the crowd rushing in to help him to his feet. Thankfully it didn't make his
collar bone any worse. He made a joke about it to the crowd, the song was
abandoned, and they launched into the next number.
By the time
they had got to 'I want the moon' they were in fine form. Frankie was sounding
and acting angrier than ever. He reminded me of a good hardcore singer; someone
who the crowd fears will snap at any moment and kick off. The mosh pit was
insane throughout, loads of kids going for it and losing their shit, even
though it appeared they didn't know any of their songs. I suppose that they
were just happy to have a touring band playing loud, heavy, and fast music.
Circle Pits, Walls of Death, Pogos, and Hi-fives - it had it all. After every
song the crowd were cheering, clapping and screaming like mad, right up until
the next song kicked in.
It gets
better. One of the volunteers had left a heater on during the set, which caused
a power cut during 'Diego Garcia'. Skruff carried on playing, and the crowd was
doing some mad form of clapping, which is a specific cultural tradition for
Russian and ex-Soviet state people. Moments later the power came back on, just
as the song kicks back in after the breakdown. It was poetry in motion as
Dickie repeatedly sang the harmonies of 'there's a little bit of light, there's
a little bit of hope'. The whole set had the feeling of anarchy in action - it
was pure pleasure to witness. They finished off by doing springtime again, and
left the stage to an ovation louder than war.
I met an
absolutely amazing person that night. Kristina originally came up to me after
the show, and was telling me about how much she enjoyed it. We then talked
about the venue and anarchism in Estonia. After the gig, I set up my computer,
so I could DJ. Whilst I was playing the Lady Gaga / Judas remix, she came up to
me and asked 'Have you got any other Lady Gaga songs you could play?', 'I have
everything, what do you want to hear?' was my reply. 'I don't know many of
them, how about Government Hooker?' she responded. 'I'd love to play that, but
I'll only do it if you dance to it with me' was my cheeky comeback. And then we
were up with the dance floor all to ourselves, bopping away and singing along.
I fell in love there and then.
After
returning from a smoke break, some of the kids had taken over the DJ duties,
and were blasting out old-school punk-rock anthems to an appreciative crowd.
They knew best, so I just left them to it for the rest of the night. Much of my
time was spent cuddling Kristina, talking about how beautiful and somewhat
isolating the anarchist movement is; the chat was on another level. This was
occasionally interrupted by the kids playing classic songs from the likes of
Lagwagon and Pennywise - so our chat kept on being interrupted by the need to
get up and join the kids for a mosh on the dance floor. Skruff, Mick, and I
were in our element, as we are all purveyors of pop punk. Kristina had to go,
so I said goodbye, and arranged to meet her the next day. I was actually going
to have some female company on Valentine’s Day, which happened to be on our day
off in Tallinn. The final memory I have of the night was the crowd going crazy
for 'Lori Meyers' by NOFX, so much so that it was played three times in a row!
Unfortunately
we had to leave to go check-in to the hotel. Thankfully though, Skruff once
again proved his legendary status, by arranging for some of the locals to come
back with us in the van, and take us to a bar where many other people from the
gig were going for some late night drinking action. As soon as we dropped off
our bags, Skruff, Rock and I were straight out into the old town, and our new
Estonian friends took us to bar number one.
It was a
classic East European style cellar bar in which smoking was tolerated in the upstairs
area. Skruff was in fine form, letting off some steam about things that had
been pissing him off. I was feeling over-emotional from the events of the
night, so out came the Gin & Tonics. We chatted to some of the locals who
were at the gig, and also met some sound people from the Isle of Wight. Rock
was enjoying the fact that he didn't have to drive the next day, so he was
having a skin full and holding court with the locals.
By the time
the bar had closed, we'd only managed to have a couple of drinks, so we
insisted that they took us to bar number two, which turned out to be one of the
only 24 hour bars in the city, and was a fair stomp away. It was tacky inside,
and the decor of the place made it feel like we were drinking in the waiting
room of a funeral shop. Still, they were serving veggie pasties and gin long
drinks, so I was all set. Overall, it had been a great night, and we decided to leave it that way and
take a taxi back to the hotel, making sure we were back before the big hand hit
5am.
Day off - Tallinn, Estonia
Rock and I managed to get up on time to take advantage of
the free buffet breakfast. I spent brunch in Dickie and Micks room, drinking
Lonkero, which is a Finnish creation, and is a Gin based long drink – the
perfect hair of the dog. Micks’ feet absolutely stank. In fact they smelt so
bad that even the great unwashed Hammond was loudly complaining. It wasn’t even
mid-day and the Jagermeister from the mini-bar had already been cracked open.
Living the rock n roll dream. Later on in the day Mick passed out, and Dickie,
being so appalled, actually washed Micks feet for him. And then came the bad
news.
Rock informed us that the van had been broken into during
the night. A wallet, a carton of cigarettes and an mp3 player had been stolen;
yet when I think about all the gear and the rest of the stuff in the van, we
actually got away quite lightly – I can only assume it must have been done by
some chancers. By early afternoon Dickie and Mick were wasted, and Frankie had
wisely decided to spend a day off the drink. I spent the rest of the afternoon
on a tobacco purchasing mission, and then took a short nap.
I was supposed to be meeting up with Kristina, but she
sent me a text to say that she had to cancel. Gutted! No date on Valentine’s
Day. I was vexed, so I went out and about looking for some late night adult
entertainment, and I couldn’t even manage that. Epic fail! What’s worse is that
I couldn’t even get in touch with Skruff or Graeme, who were out and about
having good craic in the bars.
I eventually made it out for a late night mission with
Dickie, Mick, and an Estonian guy who knew Dickie. The first bar was a bit
dull, a place which catered for tourists that had no atmosphere. A local drunk
was annoying Mick with his slurring words, and Mick started to get a little
aggressive with him. So Dickie and I started to wind him up, telling him that
the other guy was harder than him, in order to goad him into a fight.
Thankfully Mick didn’t bite and fall victim to our childish antics.
It was getting late so we had to settle for a generic
Irish bar for some late night drinking. Mick was passed out before he had even
got half way down his pint, so Dickie and I went to the other side of the bar
and chatted to some locals. We then noticed that Mick had disappeared. 10
minutes later he returned to inform us that he had left and had no idea where
the hotel was, so he came back in hope we were still there. It turned out that
the hotel was only over the other side of the square. Back at the hotel, Skruff
and Rock came into my hotel room just as I was about to hit the sack, and I
stayed up a while with them, whilst they let off some steam. It was so intense
that I had to down a couple of Lonkeros just to get to sleep. Hardly what I’d
call a productive day off.
Klubi - Tampere, Finland
After five days of heavy boozing, the hops and barley had
finally poisoned me. I was hanging, and I struggled to get food in my belly at
the breakfast buffet. It was a short ride to the ferry port, and before
boarding, Rock pulled up at a petrol station to fill up on cheap fuel. The
post-meal smoke was a bad idea, and I had to sneak off round the corner to
throw up. Everyone was looking visibly sick, even Frankie, despite having had a
day off. We all sprawl out on the chairs and try to catch up on sleep. I decided
to buy a case of Lonkero, 4 bottles of Salmiaki, and a carton of cigarettes,
remembering how expensive Finland is.
It's then that I realise I've lost my bank card, and I
start to have a flashback. The day before I remember getting some money out
from a cash machine, and thinking it was weird that the machine gave you money
before returning your card. I must have took the cash and automatically thought
I'd taken my card. I had to call the bank to get it cancelled.
The crossing took about two hours, and it was great to
look out of the window and see the boat sailing through broken ice.
We're back at the van, waiting to depart, and Dickie
still hasn't turned up yet. We make predictions about how long it's going to
take him to get back, when Skruff proclaims, "He's probably out on the
ice, dancing and parading like a seal". It's then that Frankie starts to
tell us a classic Leatherface story.
During a previous tour, they did a ferry crossing, and
the band found themselves in a similar predicament. The boat had arrived and
every other vehicle had left, however the band were still on board, sat in the
van, as Laney (a previous member of the band) was missing. They ended up
waiting an hour before one of the workers called for a search party to go find
him. Another hour later, and they had finally managed to find him, passed out
drunk behind a fruit machine, with his head resting in a pool of sick. A
classic boat story!
It takes about three hours to drive to Tampere, and
there' snow everywhere. It's proper winter. Mick has obviously caned it too
much recently, and he starts to resemble a faded negative of an image he used
to be. He then decided to take a day off the drink after Frankie’s wise words
of "You need to take proper care of yourself son". And that's the
beauty of Frankie, he can be sat quietly for a long time, taking in what’s
going on around him, and then out of nowhere, chuck in a pearl of wisdom,
similar to the wise owl in George Orwell’s 'Animal Farm'.
The venue is huge and amazing; with one of the most
professional setups I've ever seen/experienced. We are treated to coffee and a
hot vegan meal upon arrival. It's during the load in when I start to get
familiar Dickie's magical disappearing act. He'll always be there at the start,
and he'll carry one or two things inside as a token gesture that he is helping
out. It's then when he disappears and he'll somehow turn up after the load in,
and explain how he desperately needed to take a long shit. I share my thoughts
with Graeme, and he explains that everyone knows his act, and it's actually a
long running joke within the band.
The sound check is thorough, and it sounds incredible -
the venue even has two sound engineers, one at the back of the room, and one on
stage.
I duck out for a while, and meet my friend Jukka, whom I
have toured with his band Sotatila. He takes me to a total Finnish redneck bar,
where the beer is cheap, and a week previously someone had been shot. I can't
even manage to finish my beer, as the fatigue starts to kick in, so I had to go
back to the venue and have a short nap before the bands started to play.
The backstage was huge, and there was so much free food
and beer. I met the lads from Cigarette Crossfire, who were supporting
Leatherface for all the Finnish dates, and had booked all the tour themselves.
In fact it was this leg of the tour that was booked first, and gigs were booked
around it to turn it into a full European tour.
Having previously lived in Finland, throughout the night
I ended up bumping into loads of people I knew. The opening act was Atom Notes,
which featured members of Endstand & Manifesto Jukebox, who played garage
punk akin to Hot Snakes. I also managed to catch a few songs of Cigarette
Crossfire, who were also melodic, yet had more of a straight up punk-rock
sound. There’s not much left I can say about Leatherface’s live performances,
they were on top form as usual, and given the quality of the venue, it sounded
as good as it does when I blast it loudly in my bedroom. Earlier that day I had
told Skruff that I thought ‘Disgrace’ was an odd choice of song to play live,
as I thought it was one of the more emo album tracks on the Stormy Petrel. He
must have remembered this conversation, as he slyly dedicated the song to me
through his backing vocals, before they started playing it.
After packing and moving the equipment into the lock up,
a load of our friends joined us backstage for a drinking party and the start of
annihilation time. Another great thing about this venue is that it had a large
sauna in the backstage! Graeme and I ‘went native’ and joined the Finns for
some naked action, drinking some wine and sharing wisdom.
The booze had ran out, so I had to charm the bar manager
to let us have another crate. The venue was holding a disco after the gig, so
Skruff, Dickie, and I decided to stay out and party. The DJ was playing a good
mix of British Indie and International punk-rock. Skruff was approached early
on, so he was on his merry way. I met some great people, who all offered me a
place to stay for the night. I should have taken them up on the offer, as in
the back of my mind that staying right until the end of the night would turn
out to be a bad idea.
The next thing I remember is Dickie, two lads from
Cigarette Crossfire and I being woken up, having passed out in the backstage.
One of the lads was found in the sauna – thankfully it hadn’t been left on. And
then the nightmare began. The bouncers were adamant that we weren’t allowed to
stay at the venue.
Dickie started off by convincing us that the band had not
given him the security codes for the hotel room. Thankfully the bouncers told
us where we were staying, so we managed to actually get there. After waiting 20
minutes in the freezing cold, and trying to call the 24 hour helpdesk (remember
that the reason this hotel chain is cheap is that there are never any staff on
site), we eventually get lucky as some other people are coming back to their
room, so we manage to get into the lobby. This is after one of the lads has
called and woken up everyone he knows to try and get us a place to stay.
The next problem is that there is a security code
required for the hallway too. I borrow the lads’ phone, and manage to get
through to the help desk – despite jokingly pretending to be Frankie Stubbs
they wouldn't give me the code without a Date of Birth. To give an air of
legitimacy, I said that I had too many drinks, and that I would call them when
I had sobered up and remembered my birthdate.
I asked Dickie if he knew it, and he couldn't remember
it. And then I remembered that I had a photo of it on my phone (I needed proof
that one of his given names is Warsaw), so in hope, I rang the helpline back
and gave them the date of birth, yet the robot on the other end kept saying
'that does not match our records', and after repeating requests just to give us
it anyway, came out with 'I cannot give you this information'. I hung up.
Whilst deciding what to do next, someone from the venue
called, who has obviously been informed by the hotel company of our dilemma, as
it was the venue who had originally booked us the rooms. They give us the key
code number, and we were over the moon to get into the hallway. We were still
stuck because first of all we didn’t comprehend that the hall code would be the
same as the room code, and secondly Dickie informed us that he and Frankie had
fallen out that night and there was no way he was going into his room to face
the wrath.
Thankfully there was a stack of bed linen on a trolley,
so we resigned ourselves to taking a few sheets and curling up on the hallway
floor. There were no external toilets, and Dickie was desperate, so he just
threw a pile of them into a corner and urinated all over them. A couple of
hours later we’re awoken by a big tall security guard, who forced us to leave
the hotel right there and then. I was somewhat hoping we were going to get
thrown into a cell, just to make the story better.
The bars weren’t open for another hour, so we took refuge
in a coffee shop and made polite conversation. At five minutes before 9 we were
first in the queue for the bar, by one minute after 9 we were tapping on the
windows to get the bartender to let us in, by ten minutes past 9 the bar was a
third full, and by twenty past 9 the barman tried to kick me out for trying to
get some sleep on the floor of the smoking room. This is Finland! Thankfully
the lads talked him round, and we were able to pass a couple of hours with a
few pints.
Back at the venue, we managed to get an extra hour sleep
before the rest of the band arrived. We loaded out, had a buffet lunch, and
shared laughs about the previous night’s escapades. I told Rock about what had
happened with the hotel codes, and he told me that after dropping the rest of
the band off at the hotel, he actually came back to the venue to try and get
Dickie to come back too. Even though that was unsuccessful, Rock still left the
codes with him. Dickie must have been either in a state of delusion, drunk, or
both; as he was convinced the band had just left him there - which they didn't.
The next day I found out from the other Cigarette Crossfire guys that they had
seen Rock give Dickie the paper with the codes on. Bizarre.
Bar Loose - Helsinki, Finland
After load out we’re back Ont Road, heading towards the
capital. Realising this will be my last trip in the van I delve a little deeper
and ask the band to share some more stories. I talk to Dickie about their
groundbreaking, legendary and most popular album ‘Mush’ – mainly due to the
recent influx of bootleg records on the market.
He told me that the bassist and drummer managed to do all
their recordings in one day, which took place at The Greenhouse in London. The
following day, Dickie and Frankie had nailed the guitar and vocals. He then
told me that he was in utter shock at the poetic brilliance of Frankie’s
lyrics, something many fans still resonate with today. Apparently they started
the recordings with Dead Industrial Atmosphere, and pretty much worked
backwards through the album in which we know it today.
Following a discussion about Republicanism in Ireland,
which was a popular subject on tour, Frankie & Dickie shared their
experiences of playing at the Union Hall in (London)Derry in 1992. Frankie
recalls looking out of the window and seeing RUC vehicles driving slowly down
the street, deliberately antagonising the Catholic community. He went on to say
that the Irish men stormed out of the bars and started lobbing rocks at the
vans. Dickie then said that it was one of the most violent crowds he’d seen in
the entire bands career, and then went on to claim that Adam Clayton from U2
was in the audience.
The band was staying in a similar style hotel to the
previous night, which fortunately for them was located just around the corner
from the venue. Before the band went it to their rooms they were all given a
piece of paper with their codes on. After a half hour chill, we reconvened at
the entrance; and on the walk to the venue, Mick questioned Dickie about the
piece of paper, and already had no idea where it was. Here we go again.
The gig had been sold out for weeks, and thankfully there
were a few spaces left on the guestlist so that I could get some of my friends
in. I made a vain attempt to go back and get some sleep before it started,
which failed, so I had to get some energy drinks down my neck to power through
the night. And the night panned out in similar fashion to the previous one,
most of it involving hanging out with Finnish friends, and in similar fashion
to the Baltics, with people having turned up from Russia.
The band sounded great as per usual, and after sharing my
analysis of the crowd with my friend Lasse who is a punk-rock veteran of the
Helsinki scene, he said “if any band can manage to get dancing and loud
sing-alongs during their last six songs, on a weeknight in Helsinki, then they
have pretty much cracked it”. And this was the first night on the tour that I
was actually needed to do something during the set, other than fetching beer –
I had the pleasure of fixing up a new microphone stand for Dickie, after
Frankie had destroyed it during the first three songs. I seem to recall Frankie
destroying a microphone stand most nights of the tour.
It was then the common theme of the night before,
everyone drinking backstage after the gig with the ‘fans’, having good craic,
and then eventually Frankie, Graeme, and Rock going back to the hotel, and
Skruff, Dickie, and I sticking around for the after disco. It was a great party
to end my part of the tour, not only being with the band, but also all with my
HKI Punx friends. There was no defining moment or any Hollywood style ending to
the tour for me. The experiences and shared joy was enough. It was nothing more
than exchanges of gratitude, a hug from Skruff after the nightclub had closed,
and Frankie earlier in the night telling me “I don’t do goodbyes, I prefer to
just to slide away”. To which I couldn’t help but reply with “Don’t you ever
say goodbye”. And that seems like the perfect end to a tour with Leatherface.
“The hardest part, is walking away”
© Lukas Schwarzbrennen