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Day 1 - My new found land
Our expectations are high. None of us have ever been to New York before. Initially, predictably, JFK airport is much like any other large airport from the inside (and outside), so after the usual brisk treatment at US immigration we were eager to meet our people and get into the city. Usual communication breakdown in trying to get our armchair sized equipment through the arrivals hall and into a taxi, then off into Brooklyn. Our only indications were the occasional yellow taxi and clapboard house, then we turned a corner and there, over an enormous cemetery, it lay.
Impressive, undoubtedly, but its beauty is a bit harder to pin down. The first impression I got was probably accurate, that these buildings were competing with each other for charisma. It’s sort of a view of Carthage mixed with a forest growing back after a fire mixed with a drawer of knives. We are not in Kansas any more, this is America. Perhaps it’s the psychoactive effect of long flights and moving time zones, but it was extremely hard to process from afar. The scale is incredible.
We are staying with Mona (foreground), Luci and Little Cat the cat in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. There is a poultry slaughterhouse across the way and no curtains with which to hide it. Not that we’re squeamish, we are from a farming community, but I hadn’t expected to find an abattoir with a view of Manhattan. Chris and our manager Ed are staying elsewhere, in Park Slope. There is no running water until tomorrow, but they seem in remarkably good spirits.
We introduced New York to our stomachs with an enormous South American meal - glazed chicken, beef hearts, fried corn, fried fish, Cusqueña and a complimentary glass of wine for ordering so much. Then it was into the Williamsburg I had been hearing so much about (it’s either the indie epicentre or “clown alley”, depending on who you ask). I was too tired really to explore it properly. I’m not sure if first impressions are what I’d expected or not, but I have little time to muse. We start in earnest tomorrow.
Day 2 - O lord, thou pluckest
I was woken by the chickens. They arrive in a lorry that looks like a connect 4 board (many small holes for their tiny heads). The sound of a lorry reversing, panicked clucking, a few bangs, then silence. A man in a blue apron now stands outside smoking. I wouldn’t have him look after a family pet. We breakfasted well, then took a morning trip to the Brooklyn bridge.
I say again, the scale of the place is amazing. I had spoken to New Yorkers who had said that Manhattan was surprisingly small, and much easier to navigate than the sprawl of London. London, not to disparage you, but, again, this is America, and these New Yorkers are wrong. In one direction is the financial district, in the other Midtown Manhattan. Beyond that is Harlem and the Bronx, and the whole Northern suburbs. Behind us is Brooklyn which is, if you count it, the fourth biggest city in the USA in its own right. To our right is Queens, itself home to millions of people. To our left is the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island, and behind it the American Mainland. On the other side of the island is New Jersey, and two or three cities that are essentially part of New York’s sprawl. I read 22 million people. The subway is bewildering. It is a city of hieroglyphs where the streets are numbered and set in an abstract order onto the land. Humans designed this thing, and it is not of their scale. Neither is it the cool, slick, clean-lined thing it looks in photographs. It is September, and it is hot and dusty, and it is very, very alive.
We head back to DUMBO (yes, that is actually what the area is called) to have a look around the Domino office, meet people who are working so hard on our behalf, and steal records. We then have Grimaldi’s pizza, which is a serious treat, then we get to work.
It is our first show tonight, which feels like a thorough examination. At Joe’s Pub, which is in fact a seated restaurant/cocktail bar, we are playing in front of some of the most influential people in music in the USA, and don’t we know it. It had been advertised well (Time Out no less) and we felt under the microscope. I think we sound nervy, it doesn’t seem to matter, the reception is humbling. I am thanked for coming to “my back yard”. I am lost for words, I have always wanted to come to New York, and I am received as a friend.
The usual heartaches ensue after the show (heavy equipment, van too small, very thirsty and hungry), but they are soon forgotten when we head to the Cajun restaurant on the next street. Catfish, Kale, Cornbread. The holy trinity, the dirty three, as recommended by Dana, our sound engineer and go-to woman for the week. And now culinary genius. What’s more we had a member of Pavement manning the bar. Only in New York. Or Stockton, California.
Day 3 - I’m going to have to see some ID
Woken by the chickens again, mildly harrowing. Having said that, we are becoming big eaters, so I must not let myself become a hypocrite also. Today we head for breakfast and interviews, taking our sweet time and getting to know the Franklin soda (Espresso, simple syrup, seltzer water - bliss) and the Red Eye (brewed coffee with a shot of espresso in it- psychotropic).
We board the subway, utterly wired, to get to Juan’s basement. It is in fact the basement of a man called Juan, and we are to perform in it for Pitchfork tv. It’s fun, it seems genuinely DIY (because we are doing everything ourselves) and it is very hot and sweaty. We don’t quite have anything like this in the UK as far as I know, and though there were moments when we were longing for a headphone mix and an air conditioner, this felt more like playing in a band. Brooklyn is an interesting place, more manageable than Manhattan but more unfinished, plants springing from the concrete, rusty metal and the like. I have to say I feel more at home in Brooklyn, though this may be because Manhattan is just too much all at once.
You start to realise by being her that a lot of the things that are thought to be typical of major cities are most typical to New York. The mass of people, the geometry, the noise, the grime, the very idea of things like blocks, uptown/downtown, corner shops. This atypical city has become the model for almost every imaginary cityscape that we get handed to us. It’s intoxicating.
We meet Dana in the Lower East Side to eat. Somewhere between Katz’s deli (where Harry met Sally) and the house of Philip Glass, I have to pause for fear of passing into a diabetic coma. Manhattan is exhausting. The mind-warping effects of this continue into a magnificent Japanese restaurant, where we dine on octopus balls, raw crab, salmon roe, marinated pumpkin and huge waves of sake. It’s an education. At this point Benny and I board a subway for home, we’re exhausted. The night I believe continues without us into carnage, but I am safely beneath a cat and a copy of the New Yorker, and know nothing of it. Moreover, we have half a page in the New York times today, so soon after arriving. Usually someone needs to be assassinated to be fast-tracked like that. Things go well.
Day 4 - Don’t make eye contact
Today we take Manhattan. But first, we must take the Bronx. We meet Justin, our man on the radio, to take us up to Fordham University, home of WFUV radio, where we today ply our trade. Travelling up FDR drive through Manhattan is enormously impressive, and the feeling of being tiny ants in a huge nest is amplified yet again. We play a guessing game as to where exactly we are and what exactly we are gawping at, until we cross the river into the Bronx. This place feels a little more transitional, though the people we ask for directions are friendly enough. We even get a few “Hey, I’m walkin’ here” moments, which is surely about as likely to happen as some urchin in Westminster offering to sweep your chimney. Just past a White Castle (the pearly king and queen of American fast food), we enter the campus of Fordham. It seems quintessentially an American college, with its football stadium and fresh faced, clean jawed types wandering around. I muse on the impression I get that maybe, just maybe, America owes some of its vibrant youth to not allowing drinking until 21?
This session is comfortable, we play three songs in smooth, eunuch luxury - air conditioning, an acoustic piano, sandwiches. Barely has the session ended and we’ve shaken everybody’s hand than we’re off downtown again to the Mercury Lounge. Traffic by this time is bedlam and we arrive even later for the show than we did for the session. Not a problem, everyone is slick and we have time to sit and gather ourselves, speaking to a gent from American songwriter magazine, discussing the Negroni (Campari, Vermouth, Gin and orange), the semiotics of Springsteen, and how the best music comes form the provinces.
The gig, conducted in almost complete darkness, went well, and despite arguments and misunderstandings with the venue afterwards, things are smoothed over, differences healed, and we are allowed to drink to our small successes. I decide I like the American way of doing things very much, and that the British politeness can occasionally get in the way of getting on with somebody. By this point I am of course very thirsty. I am handed a note that is purportedly from Antony Hegarty, apologising for not coming. We’re all incredulous, and this forms a topic of conversation long, long into the night.
Day 5 - The 25th floor
Today is a very busy day, perhaps we should have all got a little more sleep. Again, it’s breakfast time, before heading up to Manhattan, late, on the subway. I cannot imagine how people get to work in time on the subway system, it’s not fit for purpose. Very confusing, and trains seem to come almost never. What’s more, though the trains are air-conditioned, there is no cooling system on the platforms, so even on a moderate day, the stations can hit 100°F. When you’re in a hurrying somewhere, this can be a concern. By now, all of our travelling party are coming down with something, and we have learnt the true meaning of “the show must go on”. But how often do you come to New York to do this? Not very.
We spend the day scurrying between offices and up tall buildings talking about what we do for Nylon magazine, Fader magazine and a songwriting website called Indieview. Everyone is very charming, and we even have time for a bagel. By now the rain is coming down, and in truth it’s a relief from the close, dusty weather we’d had up to now.
We head back to Brooklyn, tonight we play the Union Pool in Williamsburg. We are told that this will be “the vibey one”. Suits us. It’s a good place actually, with a taco truck in the venue, no less. In fact the stage is surrounded by light bulbs and the room is perfectly proportioned. After examining a diner and having a conversation with an old Brooklynite, who was surely sent me from fiction, we return to bite our nails. We go on very, very late and play roughly, though the reaction to us is so warm that I can scarcely believe it. There are even a few famous faces, and a second note from Antony, given to me by no other than Laurence, who runs Domino records. It’s in Antony’s handwriting and he’s signed his name. It’s definitely him, one (two) for the scrapbook. I hit the Pabst Blue Ribbon hard (hipster drink of choice, apparently) and leave the night in somewhat of a daze. Chalk up a tick by this one, Brooklyn has seen its expectations and met them. Apparently Little Cat has pissed Hayden’s bed, just to bring everyone back to what’s real.
Day 6 - Engagement with representation, stupid.
Waking up in an unexpected location, I get myself back to Greenpoint to eat and shower. Today we have a day off, and we’re all determined to se some sights. We’ve been pretty busy this week, and have only seen things as we passed, this was our opportunity to be tourists. I took it easy to begin with, then headed for MoMA, or the museum of modern art. I was expecting a few good things, but not on the scale that I found them - if anything, it plays down New York’s centrality, but in doing so, my God, does it emphasise it. I drooled over Jean-Michel Basquiat, Picasso’s Mademoiselle’s d’Avignon, Franz Kline and Lee Bontecau, and spent a good long time looking at and reading about utopian architecture. Stirring stuff.
Just a salted pretzel and an hour’s wait for a train later, we were back in Brooklyn, bidding farewell with whisky and gatorita’s (Gatorade and tequila). New York is not what I expected, it is in most senses a recognisably a city, in the European sense. However, its sense of space and its straightforwardness are very American. It’s not a romantic or a beautiful place, but it’s left an impression on all of us, and as always, it‘s the smaller, more intimate corners of it that I remember, more than the famous things I had looked forward to. I hope they’ll have us back.
Postscript
We made the least dignified exit possible. Waking up at 5am, still drunk, with the taxi already waiting. Normally we would be embarrassed about this, but in the context of the trip, it’s essential knowledge.
Words - Tom Fleming
Photography - Ben Little
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03/03/10 - PORTSMOUTH Wedgewood Rooms *
04/03/10 - LONDON KOKO* SOLD OUT
11/03/10 - WARWICK Warwick Un *
12/03/10 - BOURNMOUTH 60 Million Postcards * SOLD OUT
13/03/10 - LEICESTER Uni Queens Hall *
15/03/10 - NORWICH Waterfront *
16/03/10 - EXETER Phoenix *
18/03/10 - LIVERPOOL Academy 2 *
19/03/10 - NEWCASTLE Cluny * SOLD OUT
20/03/10 - MANCHESTER Academy 2 * SOLD OUT
22/03/10 - LONDON KOKO w/Everything Everything + Esben And The Witch
25/03/10 - GALWAY Roisin Dubh ***
26/03/10 - CORK Cyprus Avenue ***
27/03/10 - DUBLIN Academy ***
31/03/10 - AMSTERDAM Paradiso
01/04/10 - NANCY
L'autre Canal
02/04/10 - LYON Epicerie Moderne
03/04/10 - MARSEILLE Cabaret Aletoire
04/04/10 - GRENOBLE Le Ciel
06/04/10 - LAUSANNE Le Romandie
07/04/10 - ST GALLEN Theater Palace
08/04/10 - MAYRHOFEN Snowbombing
09/04/10 - BOLOGNE Locomotiv
11/04/10 - ROME MIT Festival
12/04/10 - MILAN Magnoli
13/04/10 - MUNICH Kranhalle
15/04/10 - PARIS Maroquinerie
16/04/10 - BRUSSELS Botanique
17/04/10 - COLOGNE Gebaude 9
19/04/10 - HAMBURG Uebel and Gefarlich
20/04/10 - BERLIN Lido
01/05/10 - LEEDS ‘Live At Leeds’ Met Uni
14/05/10 - Brighton The Great Escape Pavilion Theatre Uncut Night
22/05/10 - GLASGOW ABC Stag & Dagger Festival
27/05/10 - SPAIN Primavera Festival
28/05/10 - SPAIN Primavera Festival
29/05/10 - SPAIN Primavera Festival
17/07/10 - LONDON Lovebox Festival Victoria Park
* with Erland & The Carnival, and Lone Wolf
*** with Villagers and Lone Wolf |
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