UK/POLAND MICRO TOUR 2005...

PAUL: We all converged in the Sowerby Bridge practice room for a rehearsal and then headed off to...

MICK: ...the insalubrious delights of Marshall's Bar for our "secret" (i.e. only advertised on the local grapevine) warm-up gig!

JIM: As last time we played here, a good gig with a nice, positive audience. 

STEFF: Marshall’s is a great little pub and music venue, but the stage is only really big enough for a four piece band - five maximum. We played here last year in April as a six-piece which was a struggle, and tonight with Peter we’re seven.

PAUL: With seven of us on stage it was a bit cramped and we were surrounded by squalls of feedback... 

STEFF: The onstage overcrowding is uncomfortable and the PA and backline could have been better but doesn’t affect us as we play well for the entire 80 minutes. The atmosphere is clammy & humid throughout, but we enjoy it, the audience gets more drunk and a good time is had by all.

MICK: We win over a mixture of local rednecks, hippies, lunatics, friends of the band and the curious (those who know Hebden Bridge will appreciate that there is some overlap between these categories - draw your own Venn diagram). 

JIM: Some good dancing at this gig, highlights included: the play-fighting dancers and the woman in a pink dress that flew backwards over Len’s monitor speaker...

PAUL: There was a classic moment when she was dancing so enthusiastically that she lost her balance and fell spectacularly, pulling Len's mike stand on top of her!

JIM: She landed flat on her back! She was soon back on her feet though, bopping merrily away (ahh the protective qualities of alcohol).

MICK: Crazy dancing, falling about and general good natured mayhem in abundance, as attested to by the video recording (shot from the back of the room by Paul's brother - nice one Andy). Afterwards, back home for a few hours of sleep - looks like that commodity will be in short supply over the next few days...

PAUL: Me, Michael, Jim, Woody and Rat met in Hebden Bridge station at 9.00 the next morning. I felt like I hadn't had enough sleep, and it was the most we were going to get! As we waited on the platform Woody complained that he'd forgotten a clamp or a bolt from his kit. Michael joked that at least he hadn't forgotten his passport. Unfortunately, he had. Woody had 30 minutes to get back to his house on the far side of Hebden, get his passport and get back to the station to get the next train. The rest of us headed off to Bradford and waited in the bus station. Thankfully, he made it.

MICK: Thankfully he arrived in Bradford with a few minutes to spare, so the first potential crisis of the mini-tour was averted, thanks to the thoroughness, foresight and organisational skills of the talented and handsome lead guitarist.

LEN: I'm really glad I wasn't there to witness the whole episode... the other guys kept this story from me for days. Meanwhile though, Steff and I were waking up in a Bed & Breakfast place near the centre of Hebden. I actually woke at about 5 a.m. and started throwing up profusely, a state of affairs that was to last until 10 a.m., by which time it was too late for the nice veggie B & B breakfast. 

MICK: So, the band members (except Len and Steff, who have return tickets to London by train, lucky swine) caught the dreaded, laughably monickered "National Express" coach to London.

PAUL: The coach crawled to London...

MICK: ...the usual tedious, soul-destroying slog to the capital. But then we trundle off by taxi and tube towards Holland Park and the Ukrainian club. 

STEFF: For the first time I can recall, Len and I anyway were touring by public transport. 

LEN: It was pure luxury. Plush seats, snacks, the soporific trundling along the tracks in an air-conditioned carriage at 100mph. This is the way us southerners were meant to travel.

STEFF: We’re all more relaxed from not driving, and at about 6pm we are wandering up Holland Park Avenue to get to sound check.

MICK: At the Ukrainian Club we meet Sash, our multitrack sound recordist for this expedition, who is recording tonight's bash as preparation for the Very Important Concert we are playing tomorrow, and we eat pizzas (seemingly the band's staple diet when gigging these days). Unfortunately the promoter has not been quite as pro-active as he might have been in publicising this gig, so the crowd is not quite as large as it was last time we were here, but the vibe is still good.

London Ukrainian Club: eating pizza (of course) outside and drinking beer in the dressing room

JIM: Nice to come back to this place. It brought back happy memories from the last time we played here. Nice onstage sound for this one, also some room to move about, unlike the previous night where we were packed onto the stage like sardines. Shame my guitar strap broke on the first song so had to play the first set sat on top of my bass amp. Oh well.. that’s Rock ‘n’ Roll ;)

STEFF: The audience is not as large as the last time we played here, but tonight the sound is infinitely better than last night. The atmosphere is even more humid than yesterday but there’s more room onstage, so more relaxed and comfortable.

PAUL: A good gig: I was feeling more confident about tomorrow's filming in Poland. 

MICK: My pal Amelia, a former opponent in the Hebden Bridge Backgammon League and World Champion Pot Smoker, was in the audience together with her sister and a few friends, so we had a good natter afterwards.

PAUL: Then though, we had to get to the airport...

STEFF: ...we took our time with the packing and loading, and then met up with Sasha the soundman at Luton Airport at about 2 a.m. after a cab and a coach ride...

MICK: ...a taxi and coach odyssey to Luton airport.

PAUL: It wasn't a comfortable night. Our flight was at seven so we had to check in at around five in the morning so instead of the plush hotel the Ukies usually stay in we had to make do with the cold hard floor of Luton airport. An annoying rotating advertisement board kept waking me up every few minutes, as did people wheeling their luggage trolleys inches away from my head. Ah, the glamour!

JIM: Luton airport seems to have been designed to prevent people from getting any sleep. Hard cold marble floor, no seats anywhere, advertising signs that make a sound like a dentist's drill every 6 or so seconds and moronic announcements played on a loop every few minutes. Even so, at some point I actually retired to the realm of unconsciousness for about an hour and a half.

MICK: We bed down for the night until woken by a very polite but slightly officious airport employee who kindly asks us to sprawl somewhere else as, quote, "we are preventing a queue from forming".

STEFF: After 2 hours sleep on the floor of the departure lounge we start the laborious process of queuing, checking in and waiting to board the plane.

PAUL: We checked in OK except that customs confiscated the wire cutters I had borrowed to clip new strings. I suppose I could have given someone a nasty nip with them.

MICK: We board, and before we know it (i.e. we're all unconscious through booze and fatigue) we are touching down at Warsaw Airport...

STEFF: On arrival at Warsaw it's about 11 a.m. and already hot. We get through customs and are met by Wlodek - our friend and Polish gig agency man - and his other half Tanya...

Tania, Wlodek and Maksym at Warsaw Airport 

PAUL: ...and their young child Maksym, as well as Nata (Natalya) who would come with us to the festival.

MICK: It turns out that due to other commitments Wlodek, "Koka" label boss and all-round good guy, is not accompanying us to Czezermzwchzw, or whatever this place is called. I give him two CDs full of illegally downloaded mp3s (God bless eMule fileshare) and we hop into the van and car designated to take us to (aforementioned gig venue) via one of the most potholed roads I have ever travelled down, even including Flowerscar Lane (the desolate track linking Todmorden and Bacup, doncha know).

PAUL: I tried to catch up on zeds on the three hour drive to the festival but the roads were just too bumpy.

STEFF:  It's a 3 and a half hour journey to Czeremcha...

LEN: with the band split between a minibus and a taxi. 

STEFF: Not too much conversation and banter on the way as we’re all lacking sleep and knackered. Brief stops for Polish supermarket dash and roadside toilet stop and we arrive at the site of the Spotkania Folkowe Festival in Czeremcha at about 4 p.m.

Postcard from the festival

MICK: We unpack equipment...

PAUL: ...and sat down in a kind of village hall for some food, which seemed to be various kinds of pig fat mostly. 

MICK: We were treated to traditional Polish food, which seems to be largely based on dripping, lard, and the like. I find myself craving pizza. C'est la vie.

PAUL: The 'bigos' was great.

LEN: You can get 'bigos' at the 'Na Zdorowie' Polish bar I go to sometimes down a back street in London's Holborn with my mate Eugene. It's 'hunter's stew', a kind of sweet and sour cabbage steeped in bacony brine.

STEFF: The sun is boiling hot, so after a quick bit of food we adjourn to the beer-tent for shady drinks, chill-time and more shut-eye.

JIM: Czeremcha is a great little festival with a real happy vibe. Some beautiful music played by the bands there. Shame I spent a lot of time with my eyes shut in an attempt to recuperate energy for the performance. 

PAUL: It was a great day for the festival, hot and sunny and we sat around listening to the music for the afternoon. Mirek's band, Czeremszyna were fantastic and it was nice to see him again (Mirek was our driver on our last Poland tour).

Mirek's band Czeremszyna, with our hero Mirek sporting cool shades on the right

STEFF: Mirek plays a contra-bass that looks like something you’d stir hops and water with in a brewery vat - a massive triangular wooden body with half a telegraph pole on one corner. I’m awestruck in an absurdly hot and tired way. What a totally cool looking and sounding bass guitar.

MICK: We spend the rest of pre-gig time drinking the odd pint and lazing about in, or rather out of, the sun (the temperature touches 85 degrees today).

LEN: Probably the least relaxed of the band on this day, I was walking round the site desperately trying not to drink any alcohol. I had no beer during the whole afternoon and therefore felt the full onslaught of extreme nervousness. Luckily I had a 25cl bottle of my favourite amber-coloured sweet vodka secreted on my person, half of which was to pour down my throat ten minutes before our gig, and the other half for the interval. Tactics.

PAUL: Finally the time came for our gig.

STEFF: The evening draws and the heat dies down a little. It's our turn to play - final act on the last night of a week-long festival. Things are mostly going smoothly during soundcheck but my bass side is sounding distorted. We have next to no time between finishing soundcheck and starting the gig, so by the time we realise that it's my pick-up battery that needs replacing, it’s too late - the cameras are rolling and the band wants to start. Even though I dash to the dressing room to grab a new battery there’s no time to replace it, so this has to wait until the second set.

 These and all following Czeremcha gig photos by Natalya

MICK: As seems to be customary nowadays we play two sets this evening, with the added bonus that the gig is being documented on 24-track audio and 3-camera video for (possible?) future DVD release. What is more, the band members are surprisingly sober (with one possible exception, and that's not me, mate)...

LEN: Dunno who the culprit could have been, but suddenly I feel on the defensive...

PAUL: Adrenalin overcame exhaustion and despite everything the performance was great. Maybe one or two slips.

MICK: Individual performances are for once astoundingly competent, well drilled and together (especially mine, which was flawless). A great gig!

JIM: The audience was great and injected enthusiasm into our sleep-deprived minds and bodies.

PAUL: The audience were really into it and that helped us to relax. There was a spectacular stage dive when a bloke leapt head first off the stage and everyone in his trajectory pushed back and he belly flopped heavily on the ground. For a moment I thought this could be the Ukrainians' Altamont, but his mates dragged him to his feet and he seemed OK.

PAUL: A mosquito the size of an albatross flew into my eye at the start of 'Teper My Hovorymo' and I had to stop and start again. In fact, I'd covered all exposed parts with mozzy repelant, but these bitches (only female mosquitos bite) could penetrate clothes. The next day my back was covered in welts.

RAT: What else do I remember? Peters' dancing on stage! Woody turning into a strobe light. And I bought a glassware rat off some Ukrainian guys who were being really friendly and enthusiastic about the band. They insisted on giving me a sheaf of Bison grass to spice up my vodka!

PAUL: We stopped for a break between sets, but apparently the crew filming us thought we had finished for good and went home! The break was extended while we waited for them to come back.

LEN: I think only two cameramen got their mobile phone messages and came back. The other two had disappeared off into the night with all their expensive equipment thinking the gig was over. Oops.

Sash and Rat - our soundmen

STEFF: The second set seems more relaxed after the tense start, and I’m wondering if it sounds as good out there as it does onstage. Not our best performance over the last three days, but it should still look and sound good when we get to see the playback.

LEN: I forgot the whole of the first verse of 'Tsilkom Vakantnyy (Pretty Vacant)' but otherwise I think the gig was a pretty good one.

MICK: The audience loved it. After the slightly restrained nature of the Holland Park (London) show, it was lovely to see rabid maniacal Polish people stage-diving, crowd-surfing and singing along (though maybe they were on occasion trying to give us lyrical prompts). Looks like we might have some great footage in the bag.

STEFF: After coming offstage we go back to the dressing room which is a church hall and spend an hour feasting on a fabulous banquet of rustic polish cuisine with lashings of vodka.

PAUL: After the gig we went for more food and vodka, some of Mirek's deadly home brew and some delicious cranberry vodka too.

RAT: Much of the meal was made from blocks of fat - and bowls of fat with pork scratchings stirred in! Not for the faint hearted!

MICK: Much vodka (including Mirek's notorious nettle-derived moonshine) and a lot of drunken conversation (some of it in French, since there were a couple of Gallic natives present interviewing us and it gave me great pleasure to roundly insult "notre batteriste" right under his uncomprehending nose).

PAUL: All too soon, around midnight, the mini-bus came to drive us to the airport. We certainly tested the poor driver's patience with our drunken attempts at getting ready to go.

MICK: And so our hired, Walesa-look-a-like driver drove us somewhat grumpily...

STEFF: ...on a bumpy, bone-crunching, muscle-aching ride at high speed through the night back to Warsaw.

PAUL: Naturally we carried on drinking Zubrowka (or those of us with stamina did) on the way back to the airport.

LEN: I remember being semi-frog-marched out of the van halfway to Warsaw at a service station for emergency rehydration. This was my first, hazey memory since sinking an almightily huge nettle vodka at the post-gig festival meal.

RAT: I remember Natalya, pissed out of her head suddenly waking up and grabbing the van driver's arm and wrestling with him while we were still moving on the journey back to Warsaw!

MICK: We were, by now, knackered. I have little recollection of subsequent events...

RAT: Mick unintentionally upset some Polish guy at the airport with his sleeping stance...

STEFF: ...then we got on the 6am flight back to the UK.

MICK: I know that I am not alone in being asleep not only for the take-off but also the eventual Luton landing of our rattly, no-frills Wizzair jet.

PAUL: As soon as I sat down on the plane I passed instantly into unconsciouness, only to wake up when everyone was disembarking in London. I must have been tired to sleep through a complete take off and landing. The Yorkshire contingent of the band went for an unhealthy fry-up to fortify ourselves for the long journey up north and back to normality, if life in Hebden Bridge can ever be called "normal".

LEN: My other half, Rebecca was at the Arrivals to meet me. What a surprise! So after the others had departed Rebs, me and Steff had a cooked breakfast at the airport before Rebecca chauffeused us two pale zombies Berkshire-wards and back home.

MICK: We had a lovely journey from Luton to Victoria to Bradford to Hebden Bridge.... oh God, I don't even want to remember it. Got home. Fell asleep. That's it. We had a great time!