ANOTHER day off. This is the calm before the storm though as we have 5 shows in a row coming up and that’ll be tough. Well, today we had a second attempt at the shopping. First off, I had to get up early to go and change one of my Christmas presents back in the Beverly Centre. Frank dropped me off on his way to get rid of some of the drum hardware that the hire company had given us. The place we get the gear from had assumed I was one of those irritating drummers that turn up to a gig with enough drum kit to take up a stage the size of Wembley Stadium. The worst thing about this type of drummer is that they usually take about an hour to sound check while they tinker with every tension rod, painstakingly tune every skin til it sounds the same as when they started, change into their special drumming shoes and then mull over the sound from their monitor for another half hour. This of course, is all to compete with the equally annoying singer who can’t seem to hear anything onstage because they have their own voice coming from every available speaker in the house at a volume that could be heard in another solar system.
Once they’re finished having a strop about that they start fighting with the annoying drummer who’s hidden behind his huge drum kit because every time they take a step back they’re practically putting their foot through the bass drum. So chaos erupts on stage while the biggest drum kit in the world is dismantled and moved back out the singer’s way. In our opinion, unless you can get up on stage, bang out 2 tunes at sound check and have it sorted out, then you’re hopeless and should think about a job doing something else or go and talk about how you used to be in a band.
So, I got to the Beverly Centre and Frank suggested I jump on one of the 25cent buses to get back up to the hotel as he was going to be donnering about at the other side of town. No problem, I thought. I stood at the bustop after making it in and out the shopping mall at high speed for HALF AND HOUR!!! Every bus that passed was for other destinations and not mine. My legs were starting to cook in the jeans I was wearing and all I could think about was the crucial sunbathing time I was missing back at the ranch. I got so crabbit that I left the bus stop and the man who was eating the Burrito and spitting it on the ground and the other Italian man that kept trying to talk to me about how wonderful it must be to live up there (up there being the Hollywood Hills where The Osborne’s are probably throwing sausage meat over the fence into the Beckhams’ Garden). I flagged a taxi and got back to the hotel in jig time and was well and truly ripped off by the driver too. He saw me coming.
Back at the hotel the wenches were already lying at the pool so I got my bathie on and joined them. We even ventured into the water. We’re never usually prepared for such pursuits as I explained in the blog about Mission Beach. The same situation arose on the last tour when we hit the lake dressed in our jeans and converse. I explained back then that rock stars would look weird with a sun tan anyway.
After vegetating at the pool for a couple of hours, Frank suggested we go to the big shoe warehouse down the road. He’s coming round to this notion of shopping so he needs to get some male friends soon before we make him a metro sexual. The shoe warehouse was incredible. We all got new Converse for much cheapness and some more Christmas presents were purchased. After this, we drove down to Melrose Avenue where there are loads of really cool independent shops. Well, this was amazing. The clothes there were something else. We were distraught that we wasted a day at the Beverley Centre when we could’ve spent hours walking up and down Melrose! We only had an hour and a half shopping time and we only made a dent in 2 blocks. The highlight was definitely Urban Outfitters which was half the price it is back home. I finally got those Levi skinny jeans I was after. Result. I think we’ll be heading back there before we head to Las Vegas.
Once we got back to the hotel we carried on with the post shopping ritual of laying everything out on the bed to admire and then trying everything on again! I’m now in danger of becoming a Betty. Getting back into the gigging will sort that out. We decided to go for an Italian for dinner tonight so found a place in the posh shopping mall down the road. The mall is a bit like Princess Square in Glasgow but not quite. There’s no Glaswegians for a start! We had a lovely dinner and again, bypassed The Powerhouse hole in the wall on the way back to the hotel. We’re being very well behaved! Well if the truth be told, we’ve got an interview early in the morning and there’s nothing worse than trying to sound all excited and positive on live radio when you’re mouth is drier than an arid desert. If the drive to the station hasn’t made you puke then the over enthusiasm of the breakfast show presenter will. So, no hangovers tomorrow. Lessons have been learned.
Well, Tippi and I are once again sitting in the room wondering what to do. She’s channel hopping (yes the TV is on again….2nd time this tour) and I’m listening to my music through my headphones, typing away. I was so bored that I’ve done a washing, dried it and put it away. I’m sure someone shouted at a gig the other night, “Punk’s not dead!” If only they could see us now. I’m away to get my jim jams on and watch the news. Tippi’s getting the microwave tea on the go.
Night night
Soup x
