I envy those with a rock 'n' roll constitution. Made of stuff so solid they can cope with a touring schedule this relentless while partying and drug taking into the wee hours with apparently little side effect. I don't know how they do it. With over an hour and a half on stage every night for the last fortnight, this tour has been as much about energy management as it has music. And we've enjoyed every moment. From the heavily charged atmosphere of Nouveau Casino in Paris to the teenage hysteria of last nights show in Munich. With two bus accidents and a breakdown along the way, plus the perfect storm of on stage technical issues in Cologne to contend with, nothing has got close to slowing us down. The Roudette crew can be heard long before they're seen as raucous laughter has echoed daily from the nightliner bus, through to sound check and right down to stage time. Long may it last.
We're using our day off today to pop over to France for some quick radio promotion. Every once in a while a big station will host their own show and basically fly in the biggest artists at the time to play one or two songs in a huge stadium in the middle of nowhere. It really equates to an early start, then a day of waiting around eating bad chocolate with a faint sense of anticipation, capped by three minutes of absolute terror/chaos/euphoria in front of 20 odd thousand fans. It's the musical equivalent of a bungee jump.
I switched on the hotel TV today just in time to catch the end of Rupert Murdoch's interrogation at the hands of the Leveson enquiry into media ethics. It was pure drama. The odd camera angles, with the conveniently positioned cute secretary types in the background, juxtaposed with the slightly shrivelled 81-year-old tycoon pausing before answering each question only added to the occasion. It was like watching a 21st century Citizen Kane. Conspiracy theorists must be having a field day.
How on earth did my beloved Chelsea Football Club manage to squeeze themselves into this years Champions league final?! Down a man from the first half in the semi final and against arguably the greatest club side of all time in Barcelona, Chelsea manager Roberto Di Matteo should be renamed Houdini. The match was made more excruciating for me as I was on stage at the time but could just about catch a glimpse of a sport screen at the back of the venue showing the score! I had to remind myself of my professional duties as a musician several times during the gig. Come on you Blues.
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