Friendly Fires

On the Plane to Japan now. Thanks to our charming manner and debonair garms (I knew these try-hard affectations would pay off in the end), Friendly Fires have been upgraded to World Traveller Plus. Basically it means a bit more legroom, a toothbrush that looks a bit like a sex toy, and some slightly better headphones with which to enjoy your Owen Wilson vehicle of choice. Ed’s re-editing some disco obscurity on Logic next to me, while I’m watching Almost Famous and trying to fathom why, 7 years ago, I actually enjoyed this piece of trite nonsense. I guess at that point the life of a touring rock ‘n’ roll musician was as exotic to me as it is to the maker of this film. What unexpected turns life takes, eh readers?

The European tour with Foals is now a distant memory. The last night in Utrecht was pure emotion, relief, sorrow, joy etc. We spent a large part of the night gushing over how much fun the whole experience had been, exchanging the latest dancefloor bangers, and generally basking in an endless bonhomie. It ended with us, Foals, Cut Off Your Hands, and most of the audience on stage for the end of Foals last song, bashing anything we could find with Foals Jack’s improbably heavy 2B drum sticks. Somewhere in the melee, the Flip camera which has been filming our tour diaries got lost. Doubly sad is that that with it went a wealth of footage of mucking about and mutual backslapping between us and our touring partners. Sorry about that, people. XL recordings were nice enough to buy us another one so I can assure you that the forthcoming Japan and USA episodes will be so in depth you’ll swear you know what each of us smells like.

Anyway a short highlights package of Europe would doubtless include:

Playing at La Cigale in Paris to a packed house with a sprung dancefloor.

An insanely meaty meal in Toulouse, like a mixed grill, but far posher and with more offal.

DJing in Berlin to about six half-interested people.

Leaving that and going to see Edwin from Foals utterly killing it at some graffiti-strewn warehouse space. Totally green with envy.

Saying hi to Paris remixer and utterly decent egg Justus Kohncke in Cologne.

A human pyramid, albeit a structurally unsound one with as many people at the top as at the bottom.

Oh well, back to the piss-weak entertainment.