the horizon never comes

we're chasin the dark
but the van lights keep on burning

we'll drive forever
but the horizon never comes

no one sells a drumbeat
like someone who hasn't slept in days

no one sells a feeling
like someone who feels like no one feels the same

Yes, I've spent the week cruising around playing shows with L Morgan, Paul Stapleton, the ever glamourous Rachel Pantechnicon and a nice assortment of others. It went like this...

Bristol
Backpack, guitar and trilby are stowed in the ageing Bedford MIDI and it feels good. That van has a sense of fun like no other, she really knows how to keep you going, quite literally. Anyway, I meet Rich, tour driver, he is rechristened as Boss Parker. L turns up at our house with a ridiculous grin, she's excited, I can understand why. We leave. Slow, steady progress is the order of the day, but who needs to go fast when the sun is shining, Bad Religion is on the stereo and you are in a van full of your friends. Exactly. We drink rum.

We arrive at the house, it is beautiful, the person putting on the show is a friendly arty type that has known L for years, she is really sweet and friendly. The occupants of the house have prepared a real feast, all salad and fried veg. Its pretty classy. We decide to go on a walk around the neighbourhood to collect wood from skips so we can have a fire. Its a really lively place, got that vibe to it, bit of character you know, loads of street art and graffitti, ace.

The show is good, marred by hippies that heckle, but good. We sit in the garden and drink cider, a campfire is lit. For some reason I feel weird about the whole thing and decide to sit by the front door to think for a while. Its odd, I generally feel out of place in social situations of this type, even though there is no reason to. Anyway, I end up getting really stoned and feel a bit like my lungs are bleeding out of my eyes, not so great. I am in bed by midnight, as are Paul, Henry and Rich. And there it was, laying down the precedent that would lead to the least rock and roll tour ever.

The day after the show we walk to a city farm (yeah!) to get breakfast. I think its a kind of community run allotments and farm, its pretty amazing. Paul befriends a baby goat. Anyway we chow down on organic delights. We decide to walk to town because Naomi wants to show us an occupied art space she is involved with. Scenic route, bridge, art, beautiful. We hit up some charitee shops on the way and I pick up a Dubliners tape for 50p. The squat is mindblowing, I've never seen anything like it. It is a massive courtyard surrounded by buildings, including a disused fire station, police station and courtroom, all of which are occupied. It is right in the centre of town. I really can't believe it, inspiring stuff. We stroll back to Naomi's for a cuppa, then hit the road.

Southampton
It is a fairly short trip to Southampton. With the exception of Rachel, we have all played at the Homestead several times before, we know what to expect. The show is quiet but really lovely, I actually enjoy playing a great deal, which is a rarity. James J Barrett shows up and brings everyone somewhere near his tradmark level of positivity, its great to see the guy. I am lifted with high spirits and cheerfulness. After the show we sit around and hang out with the punks that live at the Homestead, its really nice to see them and get the chance to talk properly. The Homestead, as always, is amazing.

Portsmouth
A lazy day, the show is in my house, not much to do. We go to Mumm's Cafe for breakfast, Russell buys a chest of drawers which we are to cart around in the van for the remainder of the tour. Equally, Paul's collection of charitee shop video games consoles is growing, multiple carrier bags spilling their retro contents left, right and centre. Whatever that means. Rich wants to swim in the sea and the weather is glorious so we hit the beach. I go paddling, as does L. Rich and Henry make a better fist of things and float around avoiding ferries for a while. It really is a blessed day and I enjoy basking in the sun. On the way home we stop at the Peace Cafe to say hello to James and Dan, drink some tea and chill. We arrive home and eat the delicious carrot and lentil curry that L has prepared, then we wait for people to arrive, some do, we play. I never enjoy playing at my own house and this is no exception, but I have fun regardless. Paul plays a very contemplative melancholy set and really goes somewhere, the unplanned whims of a cider drunkard can be fruitful, yes.

Worcester
Welcome to sauce town, Worcestershire is picturesque, lovely. We arrive, tired. The squat is small and messy, but Johnny, our host, seems friendly. The house was previously occupied by a pensioner and it looks like the decour hasn't changed in 40 years. This combined with the stylishly debauched, bohemian nature of its inhabitants gives the feeling that we are playing a show on the set of Withnail and I. We don't really know what to think, the show could be good or bad, its hard to tell. We walk to town to buy some food and booze and sit by the canal to picnic. We embrace our third bottle of rum. Rain arrives so the garden show becomes an indoor event. We play to a room rammed full of the sweetest most respectful, awesome punk kids you could ever imagine. I love it. Johnny plays a soulful set of gypsy punk stuff accompanied by a chap playing an antique violin found in a skip, only in Worcestershire. Everyone is super friendly, it fuckin rules and I don't want to leave, but we must.

Leamington Spa
The Midlands has been good to us, and this was to continue in Leam. The guy putting on the show is called Sami and he is the most welcoming, kind hearted soul you could ever wish for. His house is full of board games and 80s games consoles, a real winner. In the morning we go to town for breakfast and charitee shops. L buys a cast iron steak pan and I spend £3.50 kitting myself out with a shirt, hat and 'kerchief. I feel like a farmer/poet/spanish civil war revolutionary. All good things. Leamington has a massive, beautiful church and I have to check it out. L and Rich join me, its alright. As much as organised religion leaves a sour taste, churches sure are awesome to behold, I suppose that is the point eh. We wonder around some more, check out the venue and stroll around the city museum and art gallery, a mixture of the profound and the piss, the usual. Its fun. We arrive home to drink some tea and have a nap, then Sami cooks us some amazing tofu and bean enchiladas and vegan chocolate brownies, delicious! The show is at a studenty pub called Robbin's Well, it scares me. Its a benefit for a political zine called Dissident, which is nice. I am in a shitty mood all night and play an aggressive, angsty set. I don't enjoy it much. L is really on form though, she plays last and really goes for it, proper spine tingling stuff, boom. After the show we pack the van and set off for Brighton. Its a long, tiring drive.

Brighton
In Brighton we listen to rocksteady, constantly, but thats ok. We take some time out, go hill walking in the South Downs, dinner at Bombay Aloo (£3.50 all-you-can-eat veg curry buffet, right on!), then a pint of organic lager at the Evening Star, I meet up with Andy which is really nice, he brings me a stuffed courgette and other vegan treats from the resturantwhere he works, we retire to Paul's yard and watch Threads, a BBC film about nuclear apocalypse. It is ineffably bleak, but so very moving. Our show is in Paul's garden, its a family orientated, chilled out affair and I feel very uncomfortable. To tell the truth I'd been considering packing it all in since the show in Leamington, I concluded that I don't really have much else to do so I may as well continue playing music. I still feel uncomfortable and play a reserved set, apparently its good, I don't know anymore. There is a band of ukeleles, kazoos and singing children, I am the only one that finds it terribly annoying, sorry. Pog are mindblowingly tight and chipper, a real bundle of energy. Phil plays last and really gets hold of something good, he's a real showman, a shaman perhaps. You can't help but respect the guy. After the show we drink red wine and chat nonsense, probably.

London
We leave Brighton late, can't find fuel, the London to Brighton bike ride is today, cyclists everywhere. It is also the day George W Bush visits London and there is a demo, as you'd imagine. Navigating through central London is no fun at all but The Violent Femmes on the stereo keeps us in a good mood. We play the show in Jas' garden and enjoy vegan sausages and burgers from a massive skipped bbq, ace. There is rum, rum like no other, Captain Blood. Death. I feel weird about playing, playing is weird. The show is a matinee so afterwards we head to Camden Town to see our brothers and sisters; Attack! Vipers!, The Small Mercies and Astpai rock the shit out of the Bar Monsta. PJ convinces us to drink cans of 8% cider and it makes me feel a great deal better. All the bands are fantastic, especially Attack! Vipers! who provide me with the cathartic primal scream that I have been craving. Pyriamids fail, circle pit fails. Oh well. Afterwards we head back to Jas' house to drink more and hang out. Zock from Astpai decides to add Jaegermeister to everything, in doing so creating a saucepan of beansgermeister. He is entertaining as fuck as he tries to drink his way through the night before an early morning van ride to Aberdeen. I really enjoy myselfhanging out and chatting, L gets violent, then we pull christmas crackers and drink old, old wine, its ok. Somehow, I get a bed, first bed of tour, I don't really sleep but at least i'm comfortable. As we drive out of London and head for the M4, Hot Water Music is on the stereo and i'm still drunk from the night before. Everything tastes of Jaegermeister. But thats how it should be, right?

Thanks, everyone, I love you all.