I'm on a boat!

The Central Atrium

 Standing on the helipad, at the bow of the ship

Well, it's been a pretty insane 24 hours, as it always is, at the start of a tour. And, using the word "tour" feels kind of odd, as we're essentially in the same place, for the next five days. Two gigs, a wine-tasting and an interview session. That's our workload. But getting here was a pretty long day. Up at 5am, then packing the case. Into a cab at 11am, from Epsom, and off to Heathrow. Then, after a really painless check-in, into the lounge to work on schedules for the release of tickets for the EMF/JJ shows in October. 

From there - onto the plane. And here's where it gets very cool: it was actually pretty empty. That just doesn't happen anymore, at all. With the advent of online ticketing, and multiple systems crawling the net to allocate tickets, most airlines can predict passenger loads, adjust schedules, and provide just the right amount of planes, with just the right amount of seats. The end result: most planes these days are packed - especially in economy. Because if there were spare seats, they'd be aggressively sold, until capacity is reached.

but somehow, this Virgin plane was lovely and empty. I've not seen wide open spaces like that, for at least 20 years.

Stretch out and sit where you want! 

But, it was a long flight - ten hours, down to Tampa - with a noticeable headwind for large parts of the journey. It's one of those flights where the engines are fighting waves of wind - they sound like they're constantly spooling up, then almost being switched off, which is somewhat disconcerting. But, it was fine. We got to Tampa around 8pm, local time, hotel by around 9.30pm. Then, to a bar called The Bricks to celebrate Alan's birthday. From there, I went back to bed, to try and pass out. Only a partial success - I was awake at about 3.30 am, but grabbed another hour or so, in fitful napping. Checkout at 9am, off to the Harbour, to check in, for the Cruise. We were ushered into a lounge, for a private function - essentially welcoming all of the "talent" (always makes me laugh) and giving us instructions for the next few days. Then, time to check the guitars on the hire pull list, visit tonight's venue, and try and powernap before soundcheck. that's in around half an hour's time. Then? Get some food, get some sleep, and we're not on until 11pm. So it's a late one. I suspect that jet lag will hit us pretty hard, at some point. Not much we can do about it, so we'll just have to make the most of things. 

Oh, and this boat hasn't even moved yet - we're still docked. If I post tomorrow, I'll try and get some shots of the open seas. Honestly, this is one of the oddest things I've ever done, but at the same time, it's quite thrilling.

I'm off tomorrow

 So you can expect postings on the blog to be somewhat interrupted, I think. I have no idea what the internet policy or cost is, on the boat - but I'm guessing it'll be quite steep.

*Sigh*

but I'll try not to let it stop me. I've become rather accustomed to this little blog, again. Wouldn't like to be seen to be neglecting it, oh no. 

Today then, is the last day before I head off across the globe, and I'm currently avoiding anything that looks like comprehensive packing an organisation. Instead, I'm blogging, and learning about Be-Bop Deluxe.

Never you change, Iain. 

Time for some sleep - then, early breakfast, pack that case. Check, check again, and recheck all of the band stuff. Jump in a cab at 11. Off to Terminal 3, we leave around 3pm. More tomorrow, If (and only if) I can drag my sorry behind into a lounge)

A little more organisation

On the software, for the next two shows.

I run NI Kontakt, and there have been a few minor issues since upgrading recently. Today, it was all about trying to merge instruments (or, .nki files) into a collection of different instruments, grouped together (basically, a set, for the band - this is known as a multi, or a .nkm)

The program wouldn't merge anything together and even kept shutting down. Turns out that the "merge when loading" option had been automatically deselected by the upgrade - I literally would never thought of checking. Anyway, one small tick in the box, and I'm all sorted. Phew!

 And, as I prepare to set sail on the seven seas (or, whatever) this photo is bringing me a lot of joy, and a small wrenching of the heart, too. That's Marnie, helping Milo with his homework. Amazing stuff, I wouldn't have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes.

I've been through the set and got the shopping done. I need to get a few things done before I'm away - getting clothes sorted is top of the list - and I need to book a cab.

But today, my work here is done. Time to think about the kid's tea. 

Time to draw breath

 Did some shopping, and some packing. Went into town, and bought a new mattress. Sat on the sofa sorting things out, overlooked by this dude. After a week (or so)of being utterly focused on rehearsing new songs, it was a day to exhale. 

But it's finally time to think about layering, about organising, about plotting which things I need to throw in that case. Which books will I need on the Kindle, and which audiobooks will I need on the phone? which Spotify playlists to download. I love diving down into the tiny little details of travel, the small things that make outsized differences to your comfort and your enjoyment of time away. It's time to think about those things, for a day or two.

A palpable victory.

 That's what today was. First rehearsal in over a year (!), and we smashed it. I know, a year without rehearsals seems like a long time, and - well, it is. But there's a solid reason for that. We spent most of 2024 (and the tail end of 2023) gigging, constantly. We did Japan, Australia, The US, and the UK. All in all, it worked out at 35 shows - more than at any other time since 1993. So, we knew the set, inside out, we'd lived and breathed the songs, and we'd performed them in all sorts of situations and locations. So, they'd become a part of us. We really didn't need to try and underscore that knowledge, by rehearsing. 

But, since the last show of the world tour, and downtime over Xmas, it felt like time to get back in the studio once more. So, here we are. 

And damn, it was great. After all of the hard work, and practising the songs at home, it was a relief to hear it all come together. 

outside is always the best side

 Thank goodness! Back out on the bike today. Post-storm calm, dazzling blue skies, a crisp feeling of spring in the air. The weather will take a turn for the worse, over the next few days - so it was time to enjoy it whilst I could. Up and over Headley, down Pebble Hill, through Betchworth and Leigh. Deanoak Lane and Ironsbottom, to the Fox Revived. Literally my favourite route in the world, at the moment. I even ambled up Box Hill, which I've not done in absolutely ages. 

I was also back on the winter bike- the old Trek Domane. It's been such a faithful companion - and the bike that launched me into cycling properly. I've got a lot to thank it for. But there's no denying that it makes a perfect winter bike - the comfort, the Di2, the bombproof wheels, the second-tier groupset that I don't have to worry about, too much. Possibly the only drawback is rim brakes, but I'll be honest, the roads were wet and miserable today, and rim brakes weren't an issue, at all. I think that's possibly due to the Ksyrium Exalith wheels - the braking surface is as good as it gets, for a rim brake wheelset. 

The rest of the day has been an archetypical Saturday: early run to Sainsbury's, cooking, tidying. The Archers, Oatcakes, mushrooms on toast for my lunch. A lovely day. 

Breakthrough

 Finally feels like I'm getting to grips with the old songs - and here's what it looks like, to distill all of the information about a track, into a framework that makes sense, to me

It's like a map, really; a way to navigate the song, pointing out my movements, along the way. 

I can still recall first joining the band, in October 1988. I went along to rehearse for the very first time and made just the same sort of map. A small piece of cardboard, folded in half. On it, instructions for at least six or seven songs. I think I used that bit of cardboard for at least the first couple of dozen shows. Balancing it on the left-hand side of the keyboard, I could subtly glance over, halfway through a song, and make sure I knew what was coming next. 

I'm fairly sure that I'm a better musician and performer than I was, back then, but it's faintly reassuring to realise that my internal mapping process hasn't changed at all. I still have exactly the same approach, as I did. Very comforting.

With that breakthrough out of the way, it's also allowed me to open the window into personal logistics for the Cruise, next week. Up until now, I've just been preoccupied with the songs. That was front, and centre. Now I've reached the other side, my brain has shifted slightly, and I'm starting to think about the clothes I'll need. Shall I pack some trunks? Do I need flip-flops? Have I still got any sun cream? Shall I buy more toothpaste? All of the small, everyday things that seem like a grind, but in fact - hold the magic of travel. Bring it on. Time to plot. 

The noise in my head

 Has been there for most of my life. It's me, and I've come to terms with it and learned to live with it, to ignore it, to block it out, and occasionally, to let it out. Most notably, it tends to emerge when I'm on stage. I've been lucky enough to have almost four decades, where I can stand on a stage, and regulate my emotions and my internal dialogue. It's a safety valve, I suppose, and I'm very thankful to have the privilege to be able to control what's inside.

sometime back in the 1980's, I also realised that it's the sort of force which can be harnessed to music: that's obvious, for something which I do onstage - but it's also apparent in my off-stage life too. I can put something like this, on - and be instantly aware that I'm channelling, and martialling my fears and anxieties.

And the Husker Du link has grown, over the years, to the point where listening to their records feels like being on stage, for me. And conversely, when I'm onstage, that's always the sort of thing which plays on my internal jukebox.

I'm off on the cruise in exactly a week, and I'll be sure to have the entire discography ready, and to hand at all times.

Not the world's greatest musician

 Really, I'm not.

And today, that's all come into focus, as I've been attempting to work out the parts for some of the old songs we're putting back into the set. The main problem for me is that I do almost everything on feel - on instinct. I rely on muscle memory and have to almost forget where I am, and what I'm doing before I can truly play properly. 

It's never held me back before, and I always manage to get there in the end - but it's a frustrating and tiring slog, to get through it all. 

Just been looking at ticket sales for the Bedford show, in March (come and see us!) and then also plotting what we'll be doing, later in the year. It's been. busy few days, but I do feel somewhat energised, which is a profound relief. The whole of Xmas and New Year was one long stressful journey into anxiety. I'm glad to see the back of that.

Tonight, there's still a lot to do - dinner for everyone (and Marnie is off doing Swimming Training, so the schedule is a bit fragmented) and maybe listening to the Archers, If I get the time.

Despite Strummer doing his best to disrupt me

 It's actually been a day of real progress. I do think that part of that has been working at my desk. Normally, I just sort of... trundle around the house, laptop in tow, like a digital nomad, confined to barracks. but, I won't lie to you, it felt good to be moored to a proper surface. I've made videos, mailed contacts, sorted things out, and been on calls. I've done some updates for the socials, and  I've got a to-do list that's now completely, well, done. 

I'm rather pleased with myself, as you can probably tell. So I'm off downstairs to listen to the rest of that Nada Surf album and make a curry for the kids.

Faking a policy on deepfakes.

 Here's a story from the BBC, about how Facebook intended to crack down on celebrity ad scams. You'll know the sort of thing if you've spent any time on social media recently - oh, here's Joe Rogan, or Elon Musk, filmed in what looks like a podcast interview, talking about how they can make fortunes playing some sort of hokey app, or whatever. It's an AI voice-changing scam.

Well, I saw the same ads you did, knew it was all BS, and just thought I'd ignore it, as I was able to discern right, from wrong. But after a few weeks, I then thought - well, why the hell not? And decided to report some of them. It's not the sort of thing I normally do, because - who's got time for that, eh?

But - let's try. 

I reported half a dozen instances. Same ad, the one with Joe Rogan, and Elon Musk. Very recognisable fake, 100% a scam. Reported it as a scam. "Celebrity impersonation". ticked all the boxes, as far as Facebook's complaint procedure goes. So far, so good. I sit back and wait. And today, I got half a dozen messages back from Facebook. They didn't remove the ads. 

If something so blatant, so egregious won't even pass their censors, you have to ask yourself, if this is not a simple case of their automated scam protection systems failing - is it something more egregious? Because, to me, it looks like they know what's happening, and they'll make a show of pretending as if they care, but they don't. they don't give a shit about you, or me, or anything. 

I'm starting to think that we're facing the death spiral of social media. Despite its huge influence (and initially, its massive potential), this wave of misinformation, distortion, lies and bullshit just can't continue. We need to return to a sense of our own independence, online. Our own domains, our own blogs, our own voices. We need to regain our personal digital sovereignty, and we need to do it before SM can wreak any more havoc. 

Actually

 Let's have a proper little life update, as opposed to me wallowing in my mild depression, shall we? I did manage to do a lot of rehearsing today, which was great. some of the new/old songs are quite complex, in their arrangement, as regards samples - plus, there's no muscle memory, as yet.

Muscle memory is perhaps the most important thing, with regard to what I do, when I'm on stage. I can let go, I can forget about almost everything else, and let the world drift over me and through me, But first, I need to have those songs almost fall out of my fingers, without a second thought. That doesn't just take time, it takes the ability to close the gap between the firing of the synapses. You have to be able to think about not thinking, to watch your muscles twitch and contract, as they dance across the keys. That's what I need to tap into, and it'll take a little more time.

Today has also been notable for the beginning of a new, regular Breakfast routine (something that regular readers of this blog will have come to recognise, is a crucial component of my day)

For the longest time, it was Soba noodles, then overnight oats. Now, I've gone even more simplistic. I've now taken to Oatcakes. four of them, with a quick smear of Marmite on each. Savoury, filling, quick and easy. 

Today

 I do what's in front of me now. that seems like. a plan, doesn't it?

Yes, I realise I'm being moderately facetious, here - but this has echoed down through a cold, miserable Monday, and made my life better.

Right now, I need this. I need something. 

Raving and misbehaving.

 Well, that's what it used to be like. But now, it's just raving. Probably just as well. 

This was today's Big Fish Little Fish - me and Dylan, at the Dorking Halls. such an amazing gig - literally one of the best we've ever done, and we've been playing together for a decade! there was just something about the vibe today - I'm not entirely sure what it was. The first half hour contained a portion where I performed some of the best mixes it's ever been my pleasure to put together. like I said - just amazing.

Apart from that, it's been a cold, dank sort of a day. A January day that makes me long for April. Right now, that month feels like a long, long way in the distance.

Ah, the 1980's.

 I've been thinking about that decade, today.

Don't get me wrong, I love the 80s as much as the next person, but it does feel like people misunderstand all of the undercurrents of that long, weird decade. It's - well, all the usual suspects: Cocaine, glitz, vapid vacuity, greed and conspicuous consumption. It's jackets with huge shoulder pads - and that's the one that always sticks out (sic) for me: it's an abnormal silhouette of a decade. 

But amongst all of the things we accept, and probably take for granted, I've spent the ensuing years marvelling at what was just under the surface. A sense that the world was fraying, spinning slightly off its axis. I know that I've referenced Philip Glass's "Koyaanisquatsi", and that's particularly apposite - "life out of balance", and the 80s really feel as though that internal gyroscope begins to teeter and sway.

One of the albums that has accompanied me, as 2025 gets underway is "Graceland" - how's that for a sign of the times, then? - and the frustrations and confusions contained in "The Boy In The Bubble" feel like they still call out, even as the days have turned into forty years. Sonically, the song has aged, but lyrically, it's right on point, for the crazy times we live in, now.