Jeff from We Versus The Shark is blogging his band's UK experiences on the road with Pulled Apart By Horses for Athens Georgia online arts magazine Flagpole. Thanks to both for allowing Jeff's tour diary to be carried on the STA blog and here's chapter 3.
Third Installment: Sure Do Feel Like a Homemade Piece of... (24/03/09)
Waking up too early after--let's face it--a bender...is unpleasant.
This is how I woke up a few days ago. Feeling weirdly defeated for no reason, falling back asleep quickly became a distant possibility. I sat around listening to Wire and eventually took my first shower of tour. (I have no one to impress in this company.) I immediately felt around 70 percent better and found my tourmates waking up, for the most part. We quickly ascertained the following: we were locked in (after staying in the upstairs apartment belonging to a pub, and we didn't feel the need to wake our hosts to unlock the door) and the power was out. So, without internet for constant conversation points, we just sort of hung out. It was really nice.
Later we made the hour-long trek to Sheffield from Leeds. Soon after arriving, I came down with a weird stomach/chest ailment. Not debilitating, but very uncomfortable and definitely mobility-limiting. It sort of zapped my sense of humor, and I spent a great deal of the show lying down on a couch in the rear of the venue (a fairweather but decent bar named the Harley). As the opening bands played, my mental train of thought considered the following bullet points, not necessarily in this order:
How sick am I?
Do I have a hernia?
Do I have an ulcer?
If I have these problems, will I continue the tour?
Do I value the anticipated good times of my bandmates over my personal comfort?
Could the band tour as a trio without me?
Do I want to return home early, secretly?
If so, why would I feel that way?
Do I have cancer?
How would that affect my relationships?
Who would I want to play at my funeral? (Mouser, I later determined)
If I still feel this way tomorrow, what would the doctor situation be?
Are Luke and Neil right: Is it gas?
As we started our set, I announced to the crowd: "I live my life in constant pain occasionally interrupted by less pain. We're We Versus the Shark from Athens, Georgia, which is in America." We've collapsed into communicating almost entirely in quotes from comedians, television, and film. We played and I went back to the couches to lie down. Only two hours later did it occur to me: I think I took too much Ibuprofen with too little food. That can fuck with your stomach, right?
Jeff Tobias
Third Installment: Sure Do Feel Like a Homemade Piece of... (24/03/09)
Waking up too early after--let's face it--a bender...is unpleasant.
This is how I woke up a few days ago. Feeling weirdly defeated for no reason, falling back asleep quickly became a distant possibility. I sat around listening to Wire and eventually took my first shower of tour. (I have no one to impress in this company.) I immediately felt around 70 percent better and found my tourmates waking up, for the most part. We quickly ascertained the following: we were locked in (after staying in the upstairs apartment belonging to a pub, and we didn't feel the need to wake our hosts to unlock the door) and the power was out. So, without internet for constant conversation points, we just sort of hung out. It was really nice.
Later we made the hour-long trek to Sheffield from Leeds. Soon after arriving, I came down with a weird stomach/chest ailment. Not debilitating, but very uncomfortable and definitely mobility-limiting. It sort of zapped my sense of humor, and I spent a great deal of the show lying down on a couch in the rear of the venue (a fairweather but decent bar named the Harley). As the opening bands played, my mental train of thought considered the following bullet points, not necessarily in this order:
How sick am I?
Do I have a hernia?
Do I have an ulcer?
If I have these problems, will I continue the tour?
Do I value the anticipated good times of my bandmates over my personal comfort?
Could the band tour as a trio without me?
Do I want to return home early, secretly?
If so, why would I feel that way?
Do I have cancer?
How would that affect my relationships?
Who would I want to play at my funeral? (Mouser, I later determined)
If I still feel this way tomorrow, what would the doctor situation be?
Are Luke and Neil right: Is it gas?
As we started our set, I announced to the crowd: "I live my life in constant pain occasionally interrupted by less pain. We're We Versus the Shark from Athens, Georgia, which is in America." We've collapsed into communicating almost entirely in quotes from comedians, television, and film. We played and I went back to the couches to lie down. Only two hours later did it occur to me: I think I took too much Ibuprofen with too little food. That can fuck with your stomach, right?
Jeff Tobias
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