After our Stonehenge trip in the early afternoon we made our way north to the island where Lemmy from Motorhead (and Hawkwind) was born. I forget the name of it, but it is in Wales. We checked into the room and since it was Friday night, we went out for a pint. Ben, Kyle, Skip, and I went to some local tavern for a beer and we discovered they had koaroke. Karaoke is sorta how I fell in love with Skip -- y'see, there used to be a bar on the eastside where he used to (still does) frequent and I'd go to from time to time. They'd have karoake, and I'd see him in there singing a perfect Highway Star by Deep Purple. He'd do air drums, air guitar, etc and I think I was into the fact he didn't give a shit what anyone else thought of him. I liked that.
We got the book from the lady in charge: no Highway Star but they had the Purple's Woman from Tokyo so we took it. A few songs later he turned it up a notch with Alice Cooper's Poison and finished with the Doors' Back Door Man. We got this strange sense nobody liked us in there and then the bartender motioned me over to tell me he'd like my friend to sing at closing time so everyone would leave. I sorta liked that we were disliked. They probably don't like Americans... funny, then, that most of the songs they were singing in there were by American artists.
The next morning we got on our ferry to Dublin and we all slept in chairs or on the floor. We woke around noon and went straight to the O2 Arena in Dublin for load-in/soundcheck. We loaded in and had a few hours to kill so Ben and I pounded the pavement (5.87 miles) along the Liffey, which is the river that separates north from south Dublin. It was Saturday afternoon, so we weaved in and out of crowds of people. People out for a drink, a laugh or just to enjoy the sunshine. It felt great to be out there along the river in the sun and I said to Ben this is the probably the last good weather day of the year.
After a shit, shower and a shave (thanks Jeannette Pierce's father for that one) it was time to play. The crowd was hungry, as it was Saturday night. During the first song my guitar was cutting out and I was pissed. I tried to figure out what it was, but with 4,000 people staring at me I didn't have much time. I had to think fast and the band picked up on my issue and covered for me by jamming on intros. I later learned it was simply a cable/cord tip that was bent, but at the time it could have been anything. The show went well and as I went to get paid the promoter loved it and wanted us back. So you see, you never can tell. When I was younger an equipment malfunction would have messed me up for the entire show, but now I know how to handle such problems with ease. It gets easier in life, too, right?
All the best,
Skip’s Current State: hungover.