Memories

 Hilton Garden Inn, Oakville

Some memories popped onto my Facebook feed today, making me look back at the world tour that ended late last year. What an incredible time - 35 shows, from November 2023, in Japan, finishing up in Esher, the next November. In between, we visited the USA three times, went to Canada, Australia, played all over the UK... it was possibly the most fun I've had, as a member of the band. It wasn't without its challenges, don't get me wrong: at certain points, the sheer weight of responsibility almost overwhelmed me. I certainly felt that my mental health took a sharp turn for the worse, at a number of times. Learning to balance my life, between times of intense activity, and those periods of rest in between, was hugely difficult. 

But I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I sat and pored over the photos, this evening, and selected just this one, to represent what it was all like, for me. A hotel room, in Toronto. My base for about three days. What felt like an oasis of sanity between some hugely complicated travel days. there's my suitcase, by the door. My laptop bag, on top. the two bags that followed me all over the globe - through airports, in vans, into venues. Pushing that case into hotel rooms, lugging it onto the bed, opening the zip. Letting my life, in packing cubes, bags of dirty laundry and washbags, tumble onto the bedding. There's the generic hotel bathroom, repository for the same old toothbrush, the cologne, and the shaving cream. There's a TV on the wall, but it's never switched on. I've not watched a TV, in a Hotel room, for over a decade: it's my sanctuary, my place of rest - television would be an unwelcome guest. 

I stayed in dozens of rooms like this, for the tour. Different views, from the windows, but much the same sorts of places. All of them welcoming, to me, for a short time: but equally, they would all let me go. 

Life on the road is transitory - in that sense, it's like all of our lives. But the transitory nature of road life has its own magic: a glory in the tiny monotonies that make it all tick.

I love being out on the road - and can't wait to do it all over again.

Wow!

 John McKay, the guitarist for Siouxsie & the Banshees, who left at the start of the tour for "Join Hands", alongside drummer Kenny Morris (causing a massive scandal, at the time) is releasing an album of recordings made shortly after he departed the Banshees. It absolutely sounds like a lost post-punk classic, and is incredibly nostalgic, for me. Hearing something sound like a time capsule of 1978, is a Proustian rush. 

It's been a while

 since I felt confident enough to recommend a new young happening band, to all of you hipsters out there. I mean seriously, who's going to care what an old fart like me thinks?

But, I really do think this lot are fantastic, and have some real spark of genius. Whether that translates into any real sense of greater commercial success is up to you lot, I guess.

From what I can tell, they're a loosely organised art collective (hurrah!) sometimes reaching anywhere up to a dozen people, with shifting roles. they have a full-time tambourine player (YES!), whose primary role seems to be summed up as providing "vibes". Honestly, if that isn't a reason to love them, I don't know what is. 

but who are they? And, what do they sound like? Well, they're Mandrake Handshake, and they sound pretty much like King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizzard listening to Krautrock, while simultaneously skinning up on the sleeve of an old Hawkwind album.

And look - they're great live, too. That'll be the "vibes", I reckon. 

Overwhelming relief.

 I've been rather unfit, of late.

Some of it is my fault - bad diet, laziness, drift.

some of it has just been a sense of mild depression and self-loathing, I suppose. mixed in with a large amount of residual grief, following Dad's death. Even writing that down feels strange, alien, and unsettling. 

But it's left me unable to truly enjoy the one thing that makes life noticeably better: getting onto my bike. It's been compounded by the fact that these last eighteen months have been one of the most successful periods for the band, in over three decades. We literally haven't stopped, and that's meant that my work has ramped up, too. I've been buried in logistics, planning, and music. So, trying to exercise, and ride, has been a frustrating pattern of stop/start. It's been almost impossible to build and maintain fitness, so - as you'd expect, fitness has taken a nosedive. One of the really obvious manifestations of this was my reluctance to get onto the turbo trainer. that had previously been a place where I could just get on, smash my way up a mountain, and marvel at the insane levels of effort. I could see the result, sweat my way into fitness and feeling healthy. 

But when fitness takes a dive, so does your confidence. You don't feel like heading back to those hills, because at the back of your mind is the nagging thought that you won't live up to your previous performances. You'll feel like you're failing. So you don't bother.

But, little by little, I've hopped on the trainer, these last few days, and I'm learning to love it again. I'm nowhere near heading up the Stelvio, or Ventoux, just yet - but today, I managed a PB up Puerto De Tudons. Faster than my last attempt, which was actually four years ago. I'm feeling much more energised. Here's to getting healthy again, and banishing all those other demons, too.

Here's the climb, I'll start the video from Sella, as that's the segment on Strava. It took 40 minutes for me, from there to the summit. Around about 215 watts, for those 40 minutes, which really isn't too bad. 

Onwards and upwards.

Back to Donuts

 Almost a decade ago, I started listening - really listening- to "Bitches Brew", by Miles Davis. I mean listening in a constant sense, not just infrequently. I think there was a period where I played it at least once a day, for a month. And then, at least two or three times a week. It enabled some sort of meditative state, in my mind. Hearing it became calming, for me. I relied on it. 

In the last few years, although it's still in rotation, there's a new pretender to the throne. I must have listened to "Donuts" a thousand times, and it still floors me. To take so much that's already been formed into musical language, then reshape it, into something else entirely? I can't quite comprehend its beauty, sometimes. There's a looseness to it, a fragility that can only come from an analogue heart, beating its way through the digital realm. And the sampling! Oh my word, it's perfect.

In fact, listening to this - a collection of all the samples on the record - is filling me with a melancholy wonder. 

Donuts, I love you.

Sunday morning blogging

It's early.

I'm sitting on the sofa bed, in the front room, wondering when I'll hop on the trainer and get a ride in (the weather looks rotten, for the rest of the day). I have a cat sitting next to me, the house is quiet, and the sun is beginning to peek over the houses outside. It's a lovely, peaceful start to the day - and one which comes as a relief, following on from yesterday. that was Milo's birthday celebrations, so we had a houseful of (just) teenage boys, eating Pizza and being lunatics, for a couple of hours. 

Marnie is off to SSP today, so I may be dragged into town, with a boy and his birthday money, desperate for Lego. Hey, there are worse things. 

Another task for today is to fettle a Spotify playlist for as much Motorik as possible. I've found that it's particularly well suited to indoor cycling - that relentless tension, the beautiful monotony. Spotify has its own suggestions, of course - but, as you'd expect, they're patchy, and algo-driven. Sod that.

I am my own algorithm, and I get to say what I want. 

This popped up today

 And I suddenly realised, it's basically my favourite era, for U2. It's that period between October and War - when they were still finding their feet, but musically, they were a simplistic, post-punk thrash, of a band. 

I mean - this is, fairly transparently, an attempt to sound like Wah! Heat. But it's marvellous. Soon, everything would be Red Rocks, and flags, and bombast. US remixes, filling dancefloors. A move towards the big, brash and obvious. 

But in this transitional period (Fire, Gloria, A Celebration) they were untouchable, to me. And, without getting into complex musical analysis, it's just wonderful to hear a song that's so basic! "A Celebration" feels like it's got about three notes. And it's all the better for it. 

I note, with some interest

That posts on this blog, for the year, are now more than at any other time than 2019. That's hugely comforting, and it gives me a small glow of pride, too. Within a month or two, it could be the most amount of posts since about 2012? 

Hey, blogging is the future, after all.

Web 2.0 posse, let me hear ya.

 

A day of business, some drift, admin and boat thoughts.

 Seriously, how am I still thinking about being on board?

Sunrise on the promenade deck

It's been - what - three weeks? And I'd get back on that ship, in a heartbeat. I loved being amidst the absolute silence of the waves, in the stillness of the early morning, watching the world slide gracefully by.

Hell yes, I'd do it all over again.

Today though, has been a day on dry land. Or, it would have been, had it not been bucketing with rain for most of the time. So, instead of heading out onto the open road, I took a day away from the bike, and used my time to catch up on lots, and lots of admin. 

Some of that involved some Google Meet action, and I'm constantly amazed at how much better than Zoom it is. Over the past six months, I've migrated all of my business over to Google Workspace, and it's been revelatory. The ability to scale up one's dreams and ambitions, backed up with some hugely user-friendly app ecosystems. It's changed the way I do business, but also the way that I think about business.

This is required viewing.

 Seriously, it's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Recreating the entirety of The Human League's "Don't You Want Me". I'm not kidding here - every single second of this is pure genius. 

Back outside

 Though it may be the last time for a week or so, looking at the weather to come. But, as ever, nothing acts as a salve for the tortured soul, quite like heading up onto Ranmore Common. I even made it up the hill, in about 7'30", which - given my parlous state of fitness - is nothing short of miraculous. 

I also managed to absolutely hammer it down Staple Lane, in a PB time. Considering I'm on a rim brake bike (so, theoretically, less secure and "safe" feeling than a disc brake bike) again, a bit of a miracle. 

This TCR is making my heart, and my mind sing, at the moment. I'm in love with this damn bike.

A long weekend

 Enjoyable, but rather tiring.

Saturday, was out - -out! - in London, for Andrew's birthday, at a pub in Clerkenwell Green. Going to London feels almost novel, now - after so many years when frankly, I'd have been horrified to have been doing anything else. With the advent of kids, one's social life changes, for sure - and being back in the centre of town filled me with a tangible sense of longing and nostalgia. I loved feeling the pulse of the city streets, the possibility, the romance, the frenzy and the silence. 

Got on to the 10.48 from Victoria, so I was not massively late. A relatively easy journey, if I'm honest. But the night was sufficiently late. to make the following day the more tiring of the two weekend days. 

My family was over for Christmas, basically. Somehow, we'd engineered a situation where Xmas just didn't fit into anyone's schedule, and the jaunt to Mull completely blew a hole in all of the previous plans. So, festivities were postponed until a suitable time. Factor in my little jaunt to the Caribbean, and it meant we got together for a festive bash - in February. Ah well, it was still lovely. And I'd not seen mum for a few weeks, so that reunion was especially lovely. Some hearty soup, cheeses with chilli jam, chocolate cake, presents, laughter, reminiscing. 

Thus, the start to the half-term week has been rather gradual. I've not done a lot today, but feel much better for being rested. I've done a supermarket run, cleaned both dishwashers. Helped Marnie exchange a birthday present, in Epsom, as well as paying Xmas money into her bank account (which she fully expects to spend this week, at Westfield). Milo has a Birthday Party to attend, and I've got a house to tidy. It almost feels like I should be telling you about a day of drift, were it not for all this...stuff, that seems to have filled it up.

Oh my word, I love this bike.

2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL

Managed to get outside today - hurrah! And I also managed to drag this bad boy out of the shed. What a life-affirming ride! there's something so immediate, so responsive and so thrilling about this bike. Partly, that's the weight (it weighs a scarcely believable 6.24 kilos, without pedals), but it's also just the DNA of the frame. It actively wants to go fast, it wants to surge ahead (whether you do, or not!). yes, it's mechanical gearing, yes it's rim brake, yes, it's got exposed cables on the headset. It's a collection of tech which is now sold as being "obsolete", and yet it can hold its own against virtually anything else. My SL6 is a thoroughly modern setup, but this TCR is a match for almost any aspect of the new pretender. it gives a little away for the discs, on sketchy descents, and I'd love to be able to throw some wider rubber on, but apart from that - it's perfect. Riding this today (out past Claygate, back through Oxshott, and Leatherhead) put a giant grin on my face, that's still there, hours later.

Must see if I can do it again tomorrow!

Happy Valentine's Day

To a little flower, somewhere.

 

I'm sitting here listening to "Angels In The Architecture". Ah, 1987. A year when I was blissfully happy, and most of the rest of my life was yet to unfold. But that year still resonates, in terms of the music I loved, and still do. It was a period of my life where everything seemed ti imprint itself on me. Everything left its mark, left traces of its DNA. The choices I made, the directions I took - all of these things still echo across the years. I'm not sure why it was the year that I truly became myself, but it was. I think it could have something to do with so much of my "traditional" narrative arc finally subsiding. I'd done school, childhood, college, and University. I'd tried being in love, having girlfriends. Lots of things I believe I should have done. but 1987 felt like the year when I was finally free to do things just for me.

I was on a path to self-determination, I guess. And let's face it, I've never really stopped, with that, have I?

Up to town

 A quick visit to the City, this morning - financial planning meeting. I love this part of London, always have. It just feels…solid, impermeable. There’s a comfort in the geometric layout of it all, in the sense that it’s all built on older foundations. The ghosts of London past always seem to be calling out, to me.

And I’m now heading home, which means I’m actually blogging on a train, which feels very modern indeed. I’m on the 11.25 out of London Bridge, currently speeding past Forest Hill. My Dad would have loved it. He’d have been pointing out things from the window, and telling me how many other suburban branch lines connect to the line I’m on. 

Time for me to head into Epsom, as well. need to get supplies for the weekend.

Missing that damn ship.

 And I'm not quite sure why.

Well, fairly obviously, I'm missing it because I had the absolute time of my life when I was on it - but it seems to go a little deeper. Do you know how I sometimes post about having days that just drift? Well, being on the Ship is the best place to feel like that. It allowed me to let that feeling run, to immerse myself in inactivity, yet still feel engaged, and thoughtful. I loved that.

This also ties into my opinion of cycling—that I need to feel the world moving around me, that I need momentum. Being on the sea allowed me to zoom out, to look down at myself, to assess my place in the world. 

That's what I miss. 

and yeah - I had a drift day today, so that would certainly explain why this has been uppermost in my mind.

Tomorrow is another day. Financial meeting in the morning, then shopping in Waterloo and plotting food for the weekend, when my Mum's coming over to visit. I may have to bust out a Minestrone. 

February - a month full of birthdays

 So, here's the first. Marnie is fifteen! I'm quite amazed, as to how the years have passed. But not only that, I'm in awe of how much has happened, in that time. It's quite comforting, to close my eyes, and sink back into a sea of memory. From West London to Epsom. From Radio, back to the band. 

I've managed to get back on the bike, for the last four days in a row. Tomorrow, it'll be five. I'm rather hoping that the weather will be dry enough for me to get outside - even if it's only on the winter bike. The trainer is fine, but nothing can compare to being on the road. For me, cycling is about momentum, about movement, about feeling as though I'm somewhere - anywhere - in a wider world. That world is still rather dank and dreary, as I watch it through the widow of this front room. Hopefully, tomorrow will be slightly brighter.

How wonderful to see this again

 I'd forgotten that it even existed! It's obviously a whole load of my old Dailybooth photos, cut together, a second at a time. 

Dailybooth was great - obviously, it presaged other photo-staging sites: without it, no Instagram, that's for sure. So, in the end, it was hugely influential. And, its influence lives on in sites like BeReal (which, similarly, I love) 

Bit of a dull start to the day

 And somewhat miserable, too.

Feeling harangued, and hectored. Doesn't really help me find the joy.

But hey ho. Ever onwards, and all that.

Indoor training setup

So, in situations like this, the remedy is always to get on the bike. Or, at the very least, get on the trainer. It's a poor substitute, but it'll have to do. That's me, somewhere in Zion National Park, in Utah. A long, long way away from a dank morning in Surrey, with the shutters closed, and the world seemingly asleep around me. I've managed to get onto the trainer both days of the weekend, and I'm really hoping I can carry on the streak: some sort of situation where I get an hour in, every single day? That would be fantastic. At least until the weather improves, anyway. Plus, of course, if I manage to get outside, at any stage - that's another two hours. I'm feeling like I need to get back to fitness. 

Lots to do today - Milo swimming, and it's Marnie's birthday tomorrow (where does the time go?) so I'll need to source the usual accoutrements - balloons, cakes, gifts. 

Time to reassess.

 I don't think it's any real secret to say that I've struggled, a lot, recently. With Dad passing away, and the first US tour falling apart - all of it started to get to me.

But then 2024 was a really wonderful year. We did so much and achieved so many goals. Literally every single gig was a triumph., Every single show packed with happy people. But that didn't come without a lot of pressure. I've said before (on this very blog) that I've felt burdened, by the weight of expectation. It's not just my outlook - it's the hopes, dreams and expectations of everyone else. that extend outwards, from the other members of the band to the crowds, everyone in the venues, and everyone in supporting roles, in our orbit. I hate letting people down, so sometimes, that fear translates into a sense of dread about the future. A paralyzing anxiety that nothing will go as people hope it will.

Trying to break that cycle isn't easy. And if you get stuck deep inside, as I did at the end of the world tour, it's challenging to come up for air. There's such a wild swing of emotions, between those happy days on the road, and the stasis which follows. 

So, heading off on the cruise was just what I needed. There was a serenity and a grace to looking out at the ocean; a real feeling of understanding my place. I wasn't expecting that, so it was doubly gratifying, to feel that peace coursing through me. It made me realise how far this journey has taken me, and it made me understand the highs, and the lows, a little bit better.

The view from the Quiet deck - port side, level 5. 

Now I'm home, I'm spending a few days processing all that I went through, and letting those lessons sink deep inside of me. It's just what I needed. 

Another wonderful day

Arriving at Cozumel, at about 6 am

Sunrise over Cozumel

Our lunch spot - Senor Iguanas

Grabbing a drink at the port

 

I'm really getting used to this life, on board. It's like a floating city, which seems fairly obvious - but there is one subtle difference that seems to be where the magic lies. In any normal city, you are surrounded by small levels of chaos: people bumping into you in the street or seeing someone who's angry or confused. Perhaps there's traffic, zooming around, and stepping off a pavement feels threatening. You normally factor all of these little deviations into your daily transit through life - but on a boat, they're not there. There's a unanimity of purpose, with everyone on a ship like this. Everyone is here to do much the same thing as you: have a great time. It's not a simple homogenous levelling of the playing field, there's still a huge range of people and outlooks - but it removes a lot of the stressors, without you even noticing. Life gets easier, more laid-back. 

And today has been a very, very laid-back day. We got here (Cozumel) overnight, and slowly approached the dock, finally mooring at around 6.30 am. The boat spins on its axis to accomplish this - which was amazing to experience. After breakfast, we nipped into the port for a look around, but then left the boat again, just before noon, to hire a Taxi, crossing the Island in its entirety. Lunch was on the East shore, at Señor Iguanas  where we ate wonderful Mexican food, drank cocktails, and laughed until our sides hurt. One of those days.

Back to the port for another drink, and back aboard, to tidy my room, and prepare for dinner. Might go and hang at the Lisa Loeb show tonight, and maybe - just maybe - try and catch up on the sleep I've missed.

Having a moment

 Oh, my word.

I've just been looking out at the world. a pitch black night, a gently roiling sea. Tiny crests of waves, buffeted by warm breezes across the Gulf Of Mexico. Above me, there's these small wispy clouds, and above them - nothing but the inky sky, forever and ever. Tiny little groups of stars, hanging in the sky.

When we first started, as a band, I can remember heading to Spain, on our first-ever foreign trip. I was always so amazed that just a piece of music could lead so many people to be checked onto a plane. To be flown to another country. just for music. Just for a song.

And now, it's thirty-five years after I thought like that. And we're still doing this. And it feels just as powerful - but there's now more resonance. Back then, it was someone else's song. Now, I'm as much responsible as anything, or anyone else. I helped put all of us on this boat. I put myself on this boat. I did all of this. And it blows my mind. 

First gig - done

First show of the Cruise

First Sunrise, from the Helipad

View from my Balcony

Well, that's the first one, done. It was perhaps the one I was most nervous about, as we were all in a strange place, due to exhaustion and Jet Lag. But in situations like these - it tends to go one of two ways: either it kind of overwhelms you, or it forces you to fight back, and the tension leads to this fantastic sense of euphoria. you end up feeling quite bulletproof. Last night's show was definitely in the latter category, but that also comes with a price to pay. You end up with an adrenalin high, which, with a 1am finish, meant that most of us slept rather badly. Just what we need.

But, I was awake in time to see the sunrise, and scooted off to the quiet deck on the port side, to grab some photos. I basically just stood there rather awestruck. It was almost contemplative - one of those times when you feel glad to be alive, and your sense of where you are zooms away from your usual close focus, to this widescreen acceptance of a broader picture. I was slightly lost for words. 

Anyway, breakfast is done, a small nap might be a good idea, and then it's a wine tasting in the afternoon. Life on board looks great, right now. 

 

TIme Zones

 Well, jet lag hit me, like a freight train.

Had a lovely dinner, and finished around 7.15. Decided to try and nap for an hour - passed out almost instantly, and got exactly one hour of deep, jet-lagged sleep. At that point, I just knew I was exhausted, and that to try for any more might be a bad idea. But - I also thought - well, maybe just another five or ten minutes.

Massive mistake. Passed out for yet another hour. This time, the jet lag sleep was even deeper, even more like a fever dream. Woke up almost exactly sixty minutes later, now feeling like I was tripping. 

On top of that, despite this laptop, and my watch telling me the correct time (we're on at 11pm), my phone had somehow transferred to another timezone and was now telling me the gig was in three minutes. As I was still in a strange, tripped-out state, It was tough trying to reconcile the fact that my watch was telling me one thing, and my phone another.

But - it is just an hour to go. Damn, that wasn't much fun. I'll now attempt to drag myself into the land of the living and do a gig.