Welcome to the second week of the Bluejuice Company Tour Diary. How many different types of vehicles will we sleep in this week? Which new vitamin deficiency will we develop? Contain your excitement if you can, children.
SETTLERS TAVERN, MARGARET RIVER
The second week of the tour begins as the first week ended: with looks of demented confusion in everyone’s eyes. Tour manager Paul orders us to the airport at 4am – a summons so diabolical in its efficiency that the airport isn’t even really open yet. While we wait around, the airport roof leaks reassuringly.
The plan today is to fly the 5-odd hours to Perth, followed by a 3-odd hour drive to Margaret River, then setup for a few hours, then play the gig, then sleep the sweet sleep of a thousand Grizzly Bear hibernations. At 4am in Sydney it’s not the most enticing prospect, but at least Jake’s spirits are lifted by the sighting of a glamorous female pilot. He is told by the indignant airline clerk that, “There are a lot of female pilots now you know”.
For the first of many (i.e. two) times this weekend, an elderly couple jokingly suggest to each other that we must be One Direction. Maybe they were referring to Henry from Sparkadia though, who is playing guitar with us this weekend. Henry is a little younger than us, and doesn’t bear the scars of a decade of touring, nor does he have any facial hair which is frankly, suspicious. He’s also from England, but we don’t really mind.
Paul and sound guy Alex have previously upgraded themselves to Business Class for this flight, simultaneously revealing themselves to be the utter arseholes we’d always suspected they were. The rest of us manage a combination of drooling sleepily and painfully onto our left shoulders, then drooling sleepily and painfully onto our right shoulders.
Arriving in Perth, we realise that the cars we’ve hired won’t really get us to Margaret River in the comfort and style we demand, i.e. with enough seats in them. Jake triumphantly upgrades the hatchback we can afford for a convertible, and as we all drive very slowly down the highway, the standard homo-erotic gestures are exchanged between vehicles whenever they drive alongside each other.
Margaret River is beautiful – not that we get to see any of it. The gig itself turns out to be a lot of fun though, even if the calls for an encore are not loud enough (or existent enough) to warrant a performance of our questionable version of “Please Don’t Go” by KWS.
A party springs up at the house we’re staying in, but James and I wearily escape to the adjoining bedroom. Around 4:30am I fall asleep to the sound of a guy affectionately telling his girlfriend he’s going to punch her in the vagina. Such a sweet lullaby.
“Please Don’t Go” Crowd Reception Rating: N/A
THE CAPITOL, PERTH
We wake up, somewhat resentful of all life on earth, pour a dozen espressi into our faces and hit the road once again. To pass the time, lighting guy Eamon plays us the Spanish version of Michael Jackson’s “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You”, and a bunch of novelty country songs about penises. He is quickly removed from all DJing activities.
Our hotel in Perth turns out to be one of those depressing 70’s-era faux-marble jobs with a grandiose title and corridors that are reminiscent of “The Shining”, only with more of an aging mental hospital sort of feel. We don’t spend much time there though, as the usual lugging, soundcheck and arguing with lunatics on facebook fill up several more hours.
We have one of our best Perth shows ever (excellent crowd, occasional crazed stage invasion, Jerry wearing devil horns) though yet again, “Please Don’t Go” does not get an airing. What a terrible catastrophe.
“Please Don’t Go” Crowd Reception Rating: N/A
THE GOV, ADELAIDE
A 6:45am lobby call again ensures we are looking our finest; resplendent, vibrant and brimming with good humour and optimism. What exemplary visions of men we are at that point. Arriving in Adelaide, I eat disturbing nachos made from melted Kraft cheese singles, and I feel like maybe I deserve it.
Tonight the show is all-ages, which would normally give extra piquancy to Jake’s paedophile jokes, but for once he has the self-restraint not to tell any. We don’t have our background projections happening for these shows but our neon costumes and UV lighting schtick looks great, and the crowd seem to enjoy the ridiculousness of everything. They enjoy it enough for us to inflict “Please Don’t Go” on them at least, which we manage to finally do.
“Please Don’t Go” Crowd Reception Rating: 7/10
We arrive back in Sydney, somewhat f*cked in the collective head. We secretly vow to not be such gruesome stereotypes next weekend. Goodnight.