UK Tour Diary Part 2

--Day4--Homesick But No Longer Feverish

Today we joined Ash to play a small local festival at Heeley Park.
 
Sheffield is a small music city, and the sense of community from non-musicians and musicians alike is very charming and friendly.  It'd be hard to say it's more laid back than Austin, but these days it might very easily be true.  Things seem a little more innocent and genuine.  Similar to Austin, Sheffield is being affected by real estate buyouts and what we like to call gentrification or classism.  The community has responded by coming together, you see local investment in music everywhere.  Everyone seems hopeful about the future here, and it's an easily addictive feeling.  I find myself missing Austin and wanting to bring back some of this British cheer with me.
 

You got Fred Flintstoned, Bro.


That said, we go back to our room across from the bar we are now calling "Butthole Bears" without shame and look out our living room window to find a bloke face down on the street from a brawl.  Another bleak but entertaining similarity to Austin.  No cops were hit with grapes, the banana peel traps proved fruitless, and once again, sleep was sleepless.  We heard Tony making calls trying to locate something called "horse glue".  The band was optimistic that this was code for cold medicine and not the local "H".

--Day 5--Eroica Britannia

 
The day had come for our big show at the Eroica Britannia Festival.  Pete, Greg, and Tony drove separately with the gear.  Amanda, Ash, and myself joined some friends on the bus.  The ride to Bakewell, famous for its "Bakewell tarts", was our first venture out of the city.  The British countryside is stunning everywhere you look.












I'd compare it to a scene from House of the Holy, Harry Potter, or the Settler's of Catan board complete with stone walls, rolling hills, forests, brick buildings, and sheep--all jokes aside (and, yes, we brought sheep back but that's another story).  
 

The Chatsworth House



Amanda compared it to a Jane Austen novel, and rightfully so as the movie Pride and Prejudice was filmed in the area.  We passed by the Chatsworth House, a mansion that spreads across city blocks on a park that stretches out as far as you can walk.  Bakewell was just ahead.
 

We arrived in the town which is actually an old village.  Narrow curving stone streets and connected shop fronts, it's an old town that wasn't designed for cars.  You can cover the entire village in minutes if you had to, but there' are bakeries, cafes, shops, and pints to be had.  
We stopped in for a tart and coffee and headed out. 































The festival grounds were on the outskirts of town and felt like Woodstock.  The scenery was once again mind blowing.  Eroica Britannia is a bicycling event where racers end at the festival grounds with the rest of the music fans for concerts.  


There was massive camp grounds and even a carnival with a steam driven carousel and other rides.  Local food vendors were there, and the beer tent featured a beer brewed just for the festival called "handsome".  The marketing says "the most handsome festival in the world", but I didn't follow up on why they say that.  I figured we fit right in.

The main stage was right in the middle and was massive.  We peed a little when we saw it. It even had a catwalk section with monitors and rails to keep those pesky fans at bay.  Tony surprised us with an announcement that we would be playing as the last set of the festival and that we needed to be at our best.  The lack of sleep and rock n rolling, coupled with the illnesses we brought with us was taking its toll, even on Tony himself who couldn't score any "horse glue".  I never found out what that meant.  We decided to rally by, what else, buying a bottle of Famous Old Grouse.  Nerves were high and I wasn't…the pre-show blessing (aka projectile vomiting) began which is always the sign of a good show for me as a rule.  As we took the stage, it began to rain cats and dogs.
The show went on.  Down but never out, we began our set.   To our amazement, the crowd rushed forward instead of leaving.  Engergized by their gesture, we played our raunchiest numbers and had a great time.  After the show were invited to play another show in Sheffield in an underground club for a band's album release party.  We were rewarded by Tony with a parking lot safety meeting in his limo and a fresh pair of socks.  
 
After the beer tent closed down, Amanda and I got lost and headed for the nearest tent as it began to pour down rain again.  We accidentally entered the VIP tent and it felt like we had walked through a portal to the 70s.  The tent was packed and the Eurodisco dance party was raging. People of all ages were in high spirits shaking their hips and whatever else they could.  Above the dance floor hung the largest disco ball I've ever seen in my life.  We had nowhere else to go so we headed toward the dance floor. As we wondered through the crowd, the middle of the floor parted as someone was breaking off a solo, beer in hand.  It was Pete "the heat", and the man was on fire!  He had made friends and was leading a manic crowd of dancing fools around like a scene from a wedding party on acid.  
 

The Knobs joined in and led the charge for group dances including congo lines and the Texas Star.  After that tent finally closed, a group of large Scottish rugby types started singing old pub songs (and oddly enough a John Denver song).  Pete couldn't resist adding his own call-and-responses to their tunes which became pretty addictive and eventually dangerous for all of us.  

We hightailed our asses over to the tent for some shut eye.  It rained all night and the tent didn't leak.  Tony had disappeared.

Click for Part 3