The Decline Tour Diary: Part One

If someone had told me back in 2005 when we were jamming in our parents' living rooms and playing to our high school friends at parties that our band, The Decline, would one day be touring the world, I probably would have laughed at them. But now I'm sitting in our tour van, somewhere between Austria and Belgium, on a nine-hour drive, two shows into our first international tour.

Catch ya on the flipside Perth!

We've only been in Europe for four days and we've seen so much, met so many people and been in four different countries.

Our good friend Kye “Kpax” O'Sullivan, who plays guitar for Newcastle's Local Resident Failure and my brother, Ben, have joined us on the trip, helping out with merch, setting up gear and drinking our rider. My brother's 17, but in Europe all shows are all ages, which does wonders for their live music scene. At our first show in Nenzing, Austria, our lighting guy (or more appropriately, lighting kid, as he was 13) was drinking and smoking behind the desk. Maybe that's too far?

Kye, loving life...

That's another thing, people smoke everywhere here. I got changed into clean clothes after last night's gig in Sankt Peter Am Wimberg in Austria and when I woke up today I felt like I had fallen asleep in an ashtray.

And pose...

We landed in France on Thursday morning after 18 hours of flying and wasted little time in crossing off iconic sight seeing locations off the bucket list. Seeing the Eiffel Tower in person after seeing videos and pictures of the iconic structure my whole life was probably one of the most surreal experiences I've come across. The Louvre and Arc de Triomphe were also incredible.

The 18-hour flight wasn't that bad especially since the flight attendant that checked in our eight suitcases, three guitars, cymbals and snares overlooked the horrible weight excess. Long flights are also numbed by what can only be described as an unhealthy combination of sleeping medication and whisky. Falling asleep on the 13-hour flight from Kuala Lumpar to Paris and waking up seven and a half hours later is quite amazing. Workaholics and crappy plane food did the rest.

After powerwalking around Paris for six hours, we tried to find a GPS for our van. Not speaking the local dialect when in another country can make things extremely hard. That, and you end up feeling like a rude and ignorant tourist. Saying “la” in front of everything makes you feel somewhat French, but in the long run, you're just doing yourself some serious cultural damage.

I asked a young woman at an electronic store who didn't speak any English if they had any GPSs, and she starred at me with a blank expression. Our guitarist, Nathan “Nate Dawg” Cooper then added, “Global Positioning System”.

We headed back to our hotel where we met Greg Legarand of French band Icons Down – the band we are hiring backline.

When we picked up our nine-seater van at the airport it was much smaller than we initially anticipated. Once all six of us crammed our suitcases and the band's two merch suitcases in, the van was already full. But then we had to fit in two guitar cabs, one bass cab, a drum kit, and three amplifiers.

Van Tetris - a touring necessity.

Anyone who says Tetris is a waste of time obviously hasn't toured with a poorly-organised band before. But we made it fit. In the event of a crash, we are seriously in trouble. Those sitting in the back seat have guitar amplifiers at their feet (hello, deep vein thrombosis), and there are three seats in the front – one that is presumably for a child, and we have labeled the “bitch seat”.

The next morning, Friday, we crawled into the van at 8am for our seven-hour drive to Nenzing, Austria for the first show of the tour. Touring Europe is completely different to Australia. During the 12-hour drive from Sydney to Melbourne you see nothing but endless bush, the occasional country town, a heap of road kill and that's about it. When driving through the European countryside you see imagery that Window's wallpapers are made of. There's such a rich history, and every town screams its past through the detailed architecture and intricate detail of even the most seemingly unimportant structures. The other difference is you drive for seven hours and pass through three countries during the commute.

Having heard horror stories of friend's bands getting stuck in hours of traffic, getting their van pulled apart, turned around at borders, taxed, harassed and extremely delayed, there was some concerns and brewing suspense when we approached the Swiss border. We casually rolled up to customs (no traffic), paid 40 euros for a little green sticker and were sent on our way. They could have at least frisked us to make us feel like a real band.

Apparently driving 130kms an hour on their freeway is considered slow. The roads in Europe (especially the no-speed-limit freeways) were built for sports cars. It's terrifying.

12 hours after departing from our French hotel we arrived at the Austrian venue – which was some sort of community youth centre. Nenzing is a small town surrounded by picturesque, snow-covered mountains, and feels like its stuck in the early 1900s, like most European towns.

The picturesque Nenzing.

Tired, sore, and more than a little drunk for the first show of the tour, we serenaded a small handful of local punk rockers. Not the biggest crowd we've played to, they were definitely one of the more lively audiences we've seen. Four encores later – during which my brother ended up behind the bar pouring his own triple shot drinks – more drinks, and some pizza later, we played some more Tetris and headed to our accommodation. It was weird being the only band of the night, but I guess that finding a punk band or two in a town like Nenzing is a pretty tall order.

We arrived at what I believed to be a stranger's house, and were welcomed inside by a 50-something woman who didn't speak English. My confusion was relieved upon discovering the next morning we were staying at a bed and breakfast organised by the touring company, and not at a stranger's house.

Cramming back into the van we headed to the next town, which was six hours east of Nenzing.

It didn't feel like we could remove ourselves any further from civilization, but as we climbed what seemed to be an endless amount of narrow hillside roads, we found ourselves tucked away in the little town of Sankt Peter Am Wimberg, Austria - population 1200. The roads leading into the town were more than dangerous for a nine-seater van full of gear. Had our wheels creeped onto the grassy banks next to the narrow gravel roads we probably would have rolled down the steep, beautifully green hillside. Imagine throwing a toy car down a hill at a park. That's what we would have looked like.

For a town of 1200 people, the venue was amazing. Soundcheck passed and as we sat down at 8pm for our first meal that wasn't purchased from a petrol station, it was looking like we'd be playing to the bar staff, Ben, Kpax and the venue's sound crew.

An hour before our set, it was almost as if the floodgates had opened. With 70+ inside by the time we finally took to the stage, things were starting to look up. Once again, the language barrier hit. Anyone who has seen us live before knows we tend to go on horrible, undirected rants, which confuses most Australian audiences.

With only a few raising their hands when asked who spoke English, most of the venue would have been horribly confused by our in-between song banter. And I'm sure the few times I tried to use German, I inadvertently offended a few punters.

When we weren't confusing the crowd with our banter, we played...

Comparing Australian tours with European tours, there's another noticeable difference. Unlike a lot Australian venues and most promoters, musicians are treated with extreme hospitality. For the first time ever, on this tour we've been asked what rider we want each night. With such excitement, we submitted our request like someone who goes shopping hungry. Better too much than too little though, right?

So with more than enough beer and a successful second night of tour, you'd think we'd be partying all night. People often assume touring is a non-stop party - which is only half true. If you had a small army of roadies to set up and pack up your gear each night, it probably would be. But after getting up early and driving most of the day, arriving at the venue, loading in, soundchecking, playing, packing up and getting to bed at 3am, only to repeat the cycle, there's barely any time left to party. Despite help from our tour tagalongs, there was still some rider left over.  Kpax began day four of tour by slamming two stubbies at 7.30am as we loaded up the van. Which brings us to now – as I sit in the front seat of the van with my laptop. We're five hours away from tonight's venue in Belgium, and with the remaining 30% of my battery I'm going to drown myself in Parks & Rec. Stay tuned!

Written by Daniel Cribb.