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RELEASES
OLYMPIA WASHINGTON We all know what they say about Olympia, everyone fucking the same and so on. We naturally have high hopes for our first gig in the States. Hopes that are quickly dashed by a monumental drinking session put in at a place called Bar Code, which shall be forever remembered (or not) as the place we discovered wells (like schooners) of vodka. The bar itself was terrible, like a bogan sportsbar. Someone was shot in the shoulder there a week or so earlier, and as the blood spurted simply exclaimed "Its my birthday for fucksake!" By the time we swagger into Le Voyeur, the venue at which we're playing three doors up the street, we're all seeing triple. Nevertheless, its time to rock out, and following sets by local bands Zach Rambo, The Mona Reels, and soloist Peter Connelly we disgrace ourselves in the best possible fashion - at 120 decibels in a small room - whilst Jodi tears the bar up with a spot of dirty dancing. Possibly because they are seriously deranged, the locals seem to like it. The following morning, we are taken to see a pirate radio station in action. They are broadcasting out of one backyard to a transmitter site in someone else's backyard, 24 hours a day, every day. And streaming online. We are very impressed and hungover. My prejudiced image of Americans as an insular breed of self-obsessed ignorami is rapidly dissipating. Back to WR010 |
