American Tour Diary 2001

by Martin McCarrick

Travel Day (London, England - Pittsburgh, PA) (May 3rd, 2001)

Well, it’s been nearly five years since we’ve toured the United States of America, so waiting at London’s Heathrow airport for our flight to Philadelphia we’re pretty fired up. Even the thought of a long haul flight ahead of us doesn’t dull our excitement.

It’s only a couple of hours later, when my in-flight meal arrives—a vegetarian gloop that looks like it’s already been digested at least once—that I remember why I don’t like transatlantic flights. I swallow as much as I can just to keep some energy in my body then return to my book, Please Kill Me: Uncensored Oral History of Punk.

Our first show is in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania but with no direct flights from London, we arrive instead at Philadelphia with a long drive ahead of us. We’re already feeling the effects of jet-lag and get as far as Cambridge, Pennsylvania before giving up for the night and finding a hotel. It’s a tiny town and seems to comprise of two houses and about twenty hotels. Don’t ask me why, I didn’t design this place!

Club Laga - Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (May 4th, 2001)

We wake early the next day to 84 degrees of sunny day, quite a change from the cold back home I can tell you. My shorts get their first airing of the year and seeing my legs in the open air, which are so pale they are almost blue, I wonder if it wouldn’t be kinder to Man and Beast to keep them covered.

We arrive in Pittsburgh sometime in the afternoon and go to the venue, Club Laga.

We try to walk about to get a feel for the area but it’s too hot and we return to the sanctity and air conditioning of the venue where our crew John ‘Sound & Tour Manager, Snoring Beast’ Walsh, Jon ‘Drum Tech, Cider Drinker, Bar Room Brawler’ Odgers, and Ed ‘Guitar Tech, Stratford Mercenary, Brooklyn Dweller’ Adley, stand on stage scratching their heads. Apparently the rental equipment isn’t working as it should, and nobody can figure out why. Through their hard efforts they get it working and we have time for a quick soundcheck before doors open.

(E)T? phone home (2001) We have no T-shirt sales person with us this tour so we’ve undertaken to do it ourselves. It’s Michael and Grahams’ turn tonight and it’s odd to see the slip from Musicians to retail staff so easily. Oh well… guess that’s life in the music industry!

The gig is poorly attended—well actually, let’s change that—the gig is too big tonight and it’s hard for the audience to fill it (that’s better). The rental gear is still behaving badly but the show goes well anyway and the audience seem to enjoy themselves.

A big thank you must go to United 51 and Dimstar for opening the show, and a special thank you to Geoff from Club Laga for all his technical support and engineering. People in Pittsburgh—if you see Geoff—buy him a drink from Therapy?

Euclid Tavern - Cleveland, Ohio (May 5th, 2001)

I’m down in the hotel lobby early, in search of coffee. While I’m waiting a huge black transvestite appears beside me carrying various Tupperware containers that seem to be filled with fruit and salad leaves. Man, you should have seen the size of that wig.

We drive forever trying to find our hotel and when we do it’s undergoing major refurbishment, and we are talking MAJOR—it looks as if it’s just been demolished.

The Euclid Tavern is about 2 miles down the street and is a great little bar, stage at one end and a bar that runs the length of one wall. It’s only about 3pm when we arrive but already the bar flies are slumped at the bar, and a haze of cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the atmosphere. We eat at a nearby diner and befriend a waiter who goes by the name of Big Al. He’s cool and treats us really well. His name describes him perfectly, a kind of gentle giant who looks like he’s not unfamiliar with a bar room brawl himself.

Andy and I have to sell T-shirts tonight. You know, retail work is not as easy as it seems. While trying to do the hard sell we watch the opening bands—the fabulously named Fester On Acid and Simoon—thanks a lot guys. We meet people who have travelled a long way to see us tonight, from Missouri to Maine, Detroit to Toronto. Amazing. The show is great although we still have gear problems and at one point Andy’s amplifier starts picking up a Russian radio transmission. The Demons are at work.

After the show we drink with members of the audience. I’m talking to a guy called Pat from Northern Ireland who hands me a cell phone so I can chat with his girlfriend Debbie who is back in Missouri. I realise that I have quite an odd life. Interesting, but definitely odd sometimes.

It’s already 2am and we have to be up at 6am for a drive to Chicago. For some reason that I can’t explain (and I’ve never done this before) I check my bed for cockroaches. Finding it clear I sleep like a baby… for four hours.

Double Door - Chicago, Illinois (May 6th, 2001)

CHICAGO! Our first real taste of a city, but it’s Sunday and much of it’s closed. While the gig is being set up we saunter off in different directions. Michael finds a record shop, I roam about the open thrift stores, Andy buys himself a million pairs of Converse sneakers and Graham, being a good Irish boy, goes to Mass.

Marty reaches for the stars in Chicago (May 6th, 2001) After soundcheck we set off to drive to the hotel but go in the wrong direction. It couldn’t be more wrong and it soon becomes clear we are on the wrong side of the tracks. We drive by burnt out cars and tenement blocks that although boarded up, appear to be lived in. You’ve seen that film Candyman right? Well, think of that and you’re almost there.

We eventually find our way out and find our hotel, ten minutes from the venue in the opposite direction. At the hotel I spend most of my time lost again in a labyrinth of corridors, none of which seem to lead to my room. I find it and after a quick wash leave for the venue. The lift which was right outside my room has now vanished and I find it at the other end of the corridor. ODD!

Back at the Double Door the show is already warming up. We are supported tonight by Project 44 and Swampass. It may be Sunday but Chicago is anything but sleepy and we really enjoy the show. Respect to Charlie (house lighting guy) who, being a big fan of Norwegian band Turbonegro, is treated to our own version of the Turbonegro song Denim Demon. Therapy?’s version of Denim Demon can be found on the Turbonegro tribute album Alpha Motherfuckers available from Bitzcore Records.

After the show we have an altercation about the direction of the hotel again and end up back on the set of Candyman. Finding the hotel (eventually) I go up to my room. The lift is right outside my room again. Shit, it should have been me that went to Mass… I start to pray!

My sleep is interrupted by a siren piercing me through the skull. It takes me a while to realise it’s coming from outside so I crack the curtain and peer through my one open eye at the streets below. They are being cleaned by the noisiest machines ever. They move along like scavengers, brushes whirling and water sloshing about as they chow down on our discarded waste, all the while emitting a loud high pitched siren like a baby police car. It’s fucking 5am. Great invention!!

The Highdive - Champaign, Illinois (May 7th, 2001)

So the newly entitled ‘sleep deprivation’ tour trundles its way towards Champaign, Illinois. Michael and Graham sit beside each other reading a book called Fast Food Nation which explains in no uncertain terms what was in that burger that you just scoffed with such relish. Apparently some chicken nuggets contain up to 80 percent bleached, flavoured beef!! And there I was thinking they were 100 percent unflavoured polystyrene.

Our show tonight is at The Highdive which is located on Reo Speedwagon Drive! How cool (or not) is that? Anyone out there live on Therapy Street? Black Sabbath Avenue? Anyway, the town is deserted apart from myself and Jon who are on a mission to find gaffer tape (duck tape to you North Americans) and a new guitar strap to replace one that bit the dust last night. I manage to find one with a flaming skull motive and although it’s way too pricey for a guitar strap, I’m sure its evil imagery will make me riff like a demon, so I hand over the dosh and depart for soundcheck.

How the west was won… (May 7th, 2001) Soundcheck over—we go to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. While our soundman John is in the bathroom we convince our waitress that it is his 21st birthday today—it’s not, but what the hell! When John returns we say nothing and wait. For a while (like nearly an HOUR) nothing happens, then just when we think that they’ve forgotten, a posse of waiters come dancing through the restaurant brandishing tambourines and whistles and, after slamming a sombrero on Johns’ head, proceed to sing him a Mexican version of Happy Birthday. The poor guy looks terrified.

The show is opened by Swampass from Chicago again tonight, followed by Filthy Jim from Lawrence, Kansas. I stand with Andy watching Filthy Jim who are like a cross between At The Drive In and The Jesus Lizard. They are amazing, definitely a name to look out for. Our own show goes really well—still a few problems with the rental gear—but everything is fine until we totally mess up Ten Year Plan. I blame the new guitar strap. Damn thing bring me some ‘bad voodoo’!

Travel Day (Champaign, IL - Philadelphia, PA) (May 8th, 2001)

We have a monster drive to Philadelphia today. John is snoring in the back of the van whilst the rest of us try to listen to Mogwai. As his volume increases we record it to play to him later. We pass through endless countryside with an occasional house that is surrounded by ten miles of nothing. Who lives there? Why are they so far from the rest of civilisation? What do they do when they need to buy the new Pantera album? Guess I’ll never know.

At Cambridge, Ohio we give up for the day and check into the Holiday Inn.

The Khyber - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (May 9th, 2001)

Back in the van at 8.30am, dozing or staring blankly out of the windows. We take a wrong turning somewhere and end up going miles in the wrong direction. This navigational thing is not easy!

During the journey I read a whole book, write some of my diary, sleep, and get conned into buying coffee from a truck stop that turns out to be contaminated with sickly sweet caramel syrup, creating what I can only describe as a hot liquid Mars bar. It’s disgusting and gets poured from the window, coating the side panels of the van with a hideous brown frosting.

Therapy? and Filthy Jim in Champaign, Illinois (May 7th, 2001) We’re all getting restless and an outbreak of cabin fever is threatening to become an epidemic until we are saved by the first sight of our destination. HELLO PHILADELPHIA!

Our venue tonight is called The Khyber. It’s a small club quite literally on South Street with the bar window directly behind Grahams drum kit, so the general public can get a good view of his arse while he batters the hell out of those skins. The stage is tiny and it takes some manoeuvring to get all our equipment set up. The ‘Devil only’ knows how the two opening acts Mile High and Narcoleptics are going to squeeze on, but there are rafters to swing from, should the need arise.

It’s almost too hot to play through the haze of sweaty steam that rises from us and the crowd, but we summon the energy from somewhere. No encore tonight—we are exhausted by the drive and Graham looks as if he’s about to die from heat exhaustion, or suffocation—whichever, it doesn’t look good.

Knitting Factory - New York City, New York (May 10th, 2001)

We are back on the road driving to New York City to play the famous Knitting Factory when the trailer that houses our equipment begins to wobble and makes a loud grating noise. Upon inspection we find a few rubber shreds where the tyre used to be. Do we have a spare? Do we F***!

John and Ed set off to walk to the nearest phone to call for a recovery vehicle while the rest of us sit out the wait. They return eventually, but it’s going to be another hour at least before we can get the tyre replaced. It’s 85 degrees outside but at least we can sit in the van with the A/C on. That is until a cop pulls up in front of us, gets on his loudhailer and demands that we cut the engine and keep it cut. He sits in front of us for a while before driving off. No engine means no A/C so we slowly begin to boil. By the time assistance arrives we look like seven lobsters. Oh, how we love those state troopers.

At the Knitting Factory, we finish soundcheck just as the doors open. We have a great band called Kung Pao opening for us, three guys, denim clad and easy rider shades who sound like a cross between Black Sabbath, The Stooges and Captain Beefheart. Go and see them if you get the chance.

The venue is packed and after our own show we hang out with the guys from Kung Pao, some ‘New York’ buddies and various members of the audience. It seems people will travel huge distances to see Therapy? and tonight ‘big respect’ is due to Sarah who flew in from England, Carlos who travelled all the way from Venezuela and Alex who flew from California. Thanks, guys.

New York is noisy and hot and I lie awake for much of the night. When I do get to sleep I have a strange dream involving chasing really dirty people down fire escapes but it gets interrupted by the telephone ringing. Time to get up…

Maxwell’s - Hoboken, New Jersey (May 11th, 2001)

After a brief dash about the Big Apple it’s time to drive to Hoboken, New Jersey, birthplace of Frank Sinatra and it appears, a town where many of the hotels feature mirrored rooms. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. Guess people just like to look at themselves while they… well… whatever.

Tonight we play the famous Maxwell’s. Sitting in the restaurant/bar attached to the venue it’s impossible not to notice that there is a definite 1950’s/Rockabilly look going on amongst the clientele. It’s explained as soon as we meet our openers—The Amazing Crowns—an amazing rock-a-billy band whose quality speaks for itself when you see the amount of fans they have. After eating we retire to the shared dressing room—also the kitchen, also the boiler room.

Jon Walsh a.k.a. Spartacus (May 8th, 2001) We watch The Amazing Crowns who are not only a great band, but really cool people too. Everything is going as planned until our equipment decides to fuck up on us once again. What is it with rental equipment? We have a long wait before all the problems are ironed out and the audience are getting impatient. We get there in the end and the show goes great.

After the last song, Graham, Michael and myself leave the stage thinking we’ve over-run our time, leaving no time for an encore. It’s probably ten minutes later when we realise that Andy is missing and going upstairs to make sure he’s OK we find him happily doing a solo spot. What can I say, the man is a law unto himself once he’s in performance mode. After all these years of playing together I can honestly say that I never know what the guy is going to do next. We join him for Nowhere and leave the stage, taking Andy Cairns with us this time.

Back at the hotel I realise that I’ve got four hours sleep max. before I have to get up again. Even the mirrored ceiling in my bathroom fails to amuse me tonight. I drink a bottle of water before hitting the bed—a big mistake as my four hours sleep become four hours of getting up to piss every half hour!

Bill’s Bar - Boston, Massachusetts (May 12th, 2001)

Today is Boston and we arrive at the venue, Bill’s Bar, late afternoon. We have a while before soundcheck so I go in search of good coffee. Since spending so much time in the USA I’ve found myself strangely addicted to Caffe Latte. It’s a help, especially with so little sleep. I’m buzzing on caffeine all the time.

We’ve sold out of T-shirts, and with nothing else to do we amuse ourselves by sitting in the van people-watching. We manage to find something peculiar to everyone who passes until it becomes really hilarious.

Tonight’s show is full of what I can only describe as ‘class 1 nutters’. Ok, not nutters, but seriously enthusiastic people. Believe me, it’s appreciated. It must be said that tonight’s show ‘rocks’! I don’t know if it’s lack of sleep or what, but we have an added burst of energy tonight, and even the bar staff are getting into our delicious grooves. After the show most of the audience seem to be hanging out in the street and we talk to a bunch of them, sign CD’s, concert tickets, bags, arms, legs, even someone’s shoe, before we have to leave.

We get back to the hotel. My plan is to sleep before our flight home the next day, but I end up in a Spanish bar drinking Vodka and Cranberry and dancing to Flamenco and Salsa instead. Oh well… I can sleep tomorrow.

We’ve had a great time in the USA—short but great. Thanks to everyone who came to support us at the shows, for banging your heads, for buying T-shirts, for buying us beers, or for just standing in the corner thinking “what the hell is going on here?”. A big, big thank you to John Walsh, Ed Adley and Jon Odgers for their tireless efforts, setting up equipment, driving us between shows and keeping good humour going during the difficult times. Cheers guys!

So, till the next time… Therapy? fans worldwide—we salute you all!