Tall But True Tales of Touring
NEW AND EXCLUSIVE! Want to peel back the curtain? Want to learn the gritty truth about life on the road with the Angel Brothers? Then you need to read Keith Angel's Tall But True Tales of Touring.
18 Beans
Perhaps one of the most appealing aspects of touring with a band (apart from the actual performances) is the opportunity to stay in a string of luxurious hotels, usually at your own expense. Tales of hotel-room trashings, of TVs thrown from fifth-floor windows and general drink- and drug-induced debauchery hold a certain romantic allure for the travelling musician and music fan alike.
So it was with eager anticipation and much gleeful hand-rubbing that The Angel Brothers set off on their 2003 Autumn tour, determined to 'raise some hell' in exotic locations around the UK......Cut to 17th October, 11.00 am, somewhere inside a greasy cafe in the suburbs of Southampton. Two weeks into the hectic tour itinerary and it was becoming clear that things weren't working out exactly to plan on the hedonistic front: Jim & Jim, official funkmeisters of the band were in solemn and sombre mood; Dave Formula, self-confessed bon viveur, and the band's most experienced member cupped his lukewarm latte between hands that were shaking visibly with frustration. As the group of melancholy muses chomped their way doggedly through their 'Porky's pig-out bargain belly-buster breakfast (you too could look like this crude illustration of a hideously obese pig, psychotically clutching knife and fork ready to devour itself) the sorry tale began to unfold.....
Once again, rather than settling into the decadent yet convivial post-pig surroundings of the region's equivalent of the Chelsea Hotel, The Angel Brothers had found themselves virtually imprisoned in a somewhat less salubrious environment in the form of a typical English B&B. This fine establishment, it transpired, had much in common with other 'digs' or 'spikes' endured by the band throughout the rest of the tour: it was ostensibly respectable, neat and tidy; quintessentially English, and run by a blazer-clad, ex-military cove with a slight suggestion of a limp and an intense dislike of musicians and veggies. The initial welcome had been somewhat frosty and the rules were harsh: lights out by midnight, reveille at 07.00, breakfast before 08.00 (chef was only paid for an hour), no smoking and no women in rooms. The cells themselves were cold and inhospitable and the sheets were threadbare polyester or nylon. The windows were nailed shut.
Dave Formula (veggie) and Dave Angel (failed veggie) were the only band members determined to meet the breakfast curfew. After an interminable wait in the flock-wallpapered 'breakfast lounge', a paltry cooked offering was slammed down on the doily on front of them. It was a child's-size portion consisting of runny, nauseous scrambled egg, a smattering of mummified mushrooms and no less than eighteen baked beans, carefully counted by the incredulous Mr Formula. A side order of cold toast, Stork SB and a pot of one-bag weak tea completed the sumptuous repast. Dave remained stoically silent, determined to endure the ordeal with the kind of stiff-upper lip dignity and resolve that he had so often red about as a lad in the likes of Victor comic, Commando Books and such like.
After only partially breaking his fast, he got up, and, giving 'The Major' a disdainful, withering look, folded the house newspaper and retired to his room in disgust. He closed the door with a rather theatrical bang and then began to enthusiastically set about the destruction and 'trashing' of a stainless steel cruet set that he had cleverly smuggled out of the breakfast lounge wrapped in a stolen copy of the telegraph. Dave proceeded to prize open the sealed window frame and, in a gleeful frenzy, flung the wrecked remains of the infernal objects from his first-floor window, sending them spectacularly crashing onto the suburban street below where they exploded in a culinary riot of salt, pepper and non-brewed condiment!
DAVE FORMULA'S ON-TOUR TIP: "Always count your beans"
KEITH ANGEL'S ON-TOUR TIP: " Take your own home with you
at all times"
NB> Editor's note: We have unconfirmed reports of
a similar incident involving Andy Seward and a miniature, stainless steel
teapot somewhere in the Tunbridge Wells area...
NB> Lost Property: If any hotels are missing an attractive
blanket/bed throw, please contact Keith immediately for a swift return.
