Sticky Fingers Euro Tour Diary Part One

10 November 2014 | 2:28 pm | Sticky Fingers

Pissing in photo shoots, missing band members... Yep, the Sticky Fingers fellas are back!

This is obviously not the billboard pissing photoshoot...

This is obviously not the billboard pissing photoshoot...


 
 
Alright, alright, alright. Tell you what, flying into this Euro run was like a cold fucking soccer ball in the face. We’ve only been landed a few hours in Amsterdam and I’ve already lost my wallet and the tour van keys. The latter item turned up in a bar called The Tom Tom. It’s got one of those ball pits, ya know? Me and the lads were wrestling. Wallet still M.I.A… R.I.P.
 
*****
 
 
 
First gig in, we’re just about on stage and the P.A’s gone cut out! We end up counting in the opener a bit over half an hour later to the sickening sound of three guitars totally out of tune with each other. Yuck! In all the confusion of a power cut we’d forgotten to tune up, the daft fuckers we are. Spirits still high though. All you can do is laugh at these things. Worst part was there’s actually a decent crowd in Zwolle. At least they got a good chuckle out of us, dem Dutchies did.
 
*****
 
 
The next morning I'm up bright and early. The jet lag. And still half pissed. The lagers. I make my way down the lobby and Dylan’s sitting one out at the bar downing double bourbons. I’ll make the mention earlier this year the band made a pact we’d cut out the day drinking. It just doesn’t work anymore. The stakes are higher now. Anyways, our day on the road builds up in a suspenseful manner climaxing with Dylan and I having a fairly nasty fight at an Italian restaurant located in the main piazza of Hengelo (good minestrone soup but). The vibe walking on stage was real weird because of it. But we manage to channel this strange energy and play a ripping show. We’re professionals after all these days. A good nights sleep I reckon.
 
*****
 
 
 
The band’s just finished our live performance of Gold Snafu on the 3FM breakfast show. It’s all love again between band members during the intermission. Dylan and I hug it out. We smashed that performance just then after all. Next we’re smack bang in the middle of the interview segment. Giel the host suddenly wants to know all about the fucking balcony pissing incident. This takes me by surprise because, A) I was amazed that this nothing story had reached the other side of the world, and B) We’d decided to remain silent with the press on this one, as we didn’t feel the need to stir the pot any further. The Aussie press was already doing a good job of that. But hey, we’re in the Netherlands. Where everyone is so cool and chill, so I decide to humour them with a few details. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about; three weeks back in Wagga Wagga I accidentally created a media shitstorm by pissing on a balcony of the venue we were playing at. Chaos ensued… Long story short, soon after the interview we’re contacted by this Dutch artist who’s name is Jaap Scheeren. He was tuned into our interview, and he’s shooting a photo series recreating memories of his youth. By pure coincidence one of the setups was when a friend of his accidentally pissed on a guy from a balcony. Basically, he's invited us to come and piss on him for the shoot! And the photos are going up on billboards all around the city of Nijmegen. Fuck I love the Netherlands.

 
*****
 
 
 
Dylan’s gone missing again. He’s already missed sound check for the sold out Amsterdam show. Now we’re getting worried he’s gonna miss the gig too. But soon enough I get the usual phone call. That poor fucker on the other end who reckons they’ve been trying to get him up for over three hours. The guy doesn’t just simply wake up. There are ways.
 
Me: Pour a few cups of water on his head.
Person: Oh no, I don’t want to do that.
Me: Why not?
Person: He’ll be mad. What if he knocks me?
Me: Well, if Dylan doesn’t make the gig, I’m gonna knock you. Place yer bets.

*****

Amsterdam show is rocking. Johnny Marr's in the crowd. Chuffed!

*****

 
 
 
I’ve just woken up in a dark hotel room. The clock reads 10:55PM. And I can’t tell whether I’ve slept for 18 hours or only two. Hopefully it’s just the kip ‘cause otherwise it means I’ve slept through this video shoot we’re meant to be on today. We topped off a week of successful shows in style the other night with a raging after party in our Noordermarkt hang. Just wanted to stop by and say a big thanks to anyone who made to a show this week. Bless the friggin' lot of us.
 
Paddy