Day 9: Bristol
Nau mai
Yesterday we played at the O2 Academy in Bristol.
We were all grateful for a morning spent with our feet on solid ground, not stuck within the confines of our handsome and reliable MAN TGE panel van. Jon was fending off a cold and his mother Tarina will be happy to know that he had a very restful morning, making the most of our late hotel checkout. Liz decided that keeping her feet on solid ground was not enough and visited a bouldering gym, promising us that she wouldn’t damage her soft, uncalloused finger pads on the abrasive climbing wall and be unable to play the guitar.
Tristan and I travelled to a rehearsal space to play music with our friend, a very fine guitarist by the name of Michael Gianan. We had a light breakfast at a nearby coffee shop, and I picked out an almond croissant for myself from a pile of almond croissants.
On the way there we met Little Mike, a darling squirrel who emerged from beneath a car and blocked the footpath, demanding to join our friend group. Once we accepted his demands, he walked with us for several blocks displaying his affection with an excited bounding and a glint in his bulging brown eyes. He walked all the way back to the rehearsal room with us and I tried to feed him some almond from my croissant, but he was uninterested; this was clearly an acorn town.
The O2 arena was a room that felt dimly familiar. We had played here with Deathcab for Cutie in 2019, and there was a sense of satisfaction at returning six years late to play a headline show. What the O2 was lacking in vibe it made up for good viewing angles. The room is wide and shallow and has a plethora of tiered seating and standing options with its many balconies, balustrades, mezzanines, sub-balconies, and galleries. Somehow despite being a modern concert venue it was still a very muscle dependent load in. Perhaps we didn’t rent the O2 arena stage access ramp package because we still had to carry our cases down a flight of stairs and then heave them up onto the stage. Today I’m feeling it in my shoulders thanks to my poor lifting technique.
The afternoon went unusually smoothly, and after finishing soundcheck early we were in a good mood. This was further improved after a stroll past the College Green on the way to dinner, a public park that I immediately described as idyllic. The grass looked soft and inviting, the gardens were manicured, the trees were just beginning to accept their autumn colours, and the Bristol Cathedral was happily accepting the exquisitely refracted rays of golden hour light.
This was a special show as it was a trial for a new and powerful technology that the band now possesses. Tristan has been tinkering in his garage for the past few months and has finally cracked the system for saving crucial seconds in the middle of one of our songs by delivering a recorder into the hands of a musician without him having to reach down for it. The Recorder-Me is an ingenious device, a foot operated launcher that uses a small explosive charge to launch a recorder (or other woodwind instrument of 30mm diameter or smaller) up to 60 meteres into the air. In the case of most venues they are finely calibrated to operate at a height of around 1.5 metres for the safety of band and audience.
Tristan’s workbench away from home.
Learning about the inner workings of this new tool.
The successful debut of the Recorder-Me was a triumph and set us up to deliver a great show.
Please enjoy this latest piece of video content from our beloved drummer and camera operator Tristan Deck.