Andy: Rain, Grace Jones and meat vans

Date added: 23.07.2010

Flight to Poland uneventful, which was an event in itself. Couple of hours late here and there, but nothing to report. Drove past Lech Walesa's boatyards. Other than that, it was one of those long silent journeys where short of drawing pictures and showing them to the driver, no conversation is possible.

Last time we played this festival, rain was horizontal. It's a world war 2 airfield right on the Baltic, so aside from a couple of emergency bunkers there's no cover.

An unexpected surprise to walk into the catering tent and find a genuine Japanese Sushi chef, candles burning and some nice bottles of wine on the table.

Pearl Jam were on before us so went to have a listen. Half a tune later, it was off to see Yeasayer who have transformed their live set in the last 6 months and were brilliant.

Interview question of the day went to the polish TV girl who asked me "what is your length?"  

No rain for the gig this time and the crowd was massive - Glastonbury main stage massive. About 60,000 people went back into the darkness. The new live set didn't disappoint. Crowd surfers got dumped up front every few seconds.

Hung around in a military bunker for a bit afterwards, where a couple of DJs were backed up by male and female Divas who told us to 'Reach Out' again and again.

Back at the hotel, the bar was still open. I went to get one in for the road. A stylish woman in a flat cap said Hi and offered her hand. Having just been to the loo and washed mine, it was one of those tricky ones where you either start lengthy explanations or offer a wet handshake. I went for the damp option, and it was at that moment I realised it was Grace Jones. We moved on from there, but she was much keener on Tour Manageress Jo anyway.

A few hours later I made my way back home via Munich, where I tried to find the driver who'd locked me in his bus a couple of weeks ago. I didn't, but I will.

Home in the South West of France it was baking. In the garden I've got a bit of veg on the go. Around the veg I planted some wheat. Enough, in theory, to make a year's worth of bread.

It had grown pretty well, and it had to be cut now - it was dry and rain was due before I'd be back from the next set of gigs. So I went to ask my neighbour if I could borrow his scythe.

He found it, sharpened it, and told me that he last took it out of the cupboard in 1954. He showed me how to use it, and the old magic was still there. A couple of rows in, he handed it over and left me to it.

By hand, with no machinery to dry it, you have to get the wheat in in full heat. 36 degrees in this case. Luckily, friends were staying, Bec and Rich, and Rich is no stranger to hard work. It was seven hours of labour, me cutting and Rich tying it into those bundles that you see stacked up in the fields in old pub photos.

Friday Poland



Saturday France



Next morning I took the scythe back and made my way to Dublin for the Oxegen festival. Puncherstown Racecourse is the exact spot. The rain in Ireland was astonishing. A freezing cold monsoon. We went straight in to a lot of Radio interviews. Just running between their caravans made it look like you'd had a fully clothed relax in the bath.

Normally we play in the Dance Tent, and it's always kicked off. This time, we were playing outside in the downpour, with Goldfrapp under cover and Jay Z on at the same time. But the Irish aren't afraid of a bit of rain, and sea of waterproofs gathered in front of the stage. Banner of the day was a mobile phone number and, underneath, "band members only".

A couple of hours in an airport hotel later it was back to France. The band were heading for a day off in Scotland pre T in the Park. But there was an invite back home to the neighbours' wedding, an invite you can't turn down if you want to avoid being Les Anglais all alone up on the hill.

I live a long way from anywhere. But the girl getting married was somehow best friends with the top male dancer from the Parisian Ballet. It was an odd scene after the wedding dinner, when a semi-circle of farmers gathered around a wafer thin dancer, trousers half way up his chest and half way down his shiny ankle boots, watching him work through a ten minute Ballet Flamenco.

Local guests had agreed to help out by putting people up.The Dancer was with me. He didn't fancy the walk home in the dark so I borrowed my friends van who was doing the cooking. To pick up all the meat for the wedding, he'd done a last minute conversion to make the van refrigerated. Problem was that he hadn't had time to fit a partition between the back and the cabin, meaning that the windscreen was iced over. Less than 24 hours after Superstlylin finished in Dublin, I was driving home hanging out of the window of a meat van whilst the star of the parisian ballet rehearsed his Mikado.

It was a tired trip to Edinburgh the next morning. I wasn't alone. I arrived at the GA portakabin to find the whole band asleep on towels. The night off in Edinburgh had obviously been busy. Our old mate Cyrus had been the host. He's not known for an early finish.

Once again the weather wasn't ideal, with a howling wind blowing across the site. We were playing outside here as well, with a set time that coincided with the world cup final. But once again the crowd gathered in the wind and rain, and did us proud. A fair bit of beer came on stage, as is the way at T in the Park, but the left-right wind meant the front row got the worst of it.
 
It was an afterparty back in the portakabin until the tour buses were allowed to move offsite at 1.30am. The idea is to stop drunken campers getting run over by giving them time to get out first. MAD was in full flow until Tour Manageress Jo but some electric tape over his mouth. He took it off and carried on, but then realised it was for the best and put it back again.

A couple of members of Madness jumped on the bus home and managed to keep talking for 9 hours.

Currently en route to Hegyalja Fest in Hungary. Saint Saviour is practicing with her new onstage torch.



We've been driving a while, and are going on directions provided by Motorhead's truck driver. MAD is back. He just woke up and came down talking about soundsytems in foreign tongues.

Andy Cato