A different part of Europe

Tuesday afternoon and I climb into the kombi. Our gear is loaded: guitars, amps, effects and Rowan’s bass. We need to get Budo and his drums and head for the old town. I turn the key and as the kombi coughs to life the radio begins cranking out a classic. The Final Countdown! I smile. It’s my view that everyone should be able to appreciate the excesses of the eighties. They don’t have to live off a diet of big hair and tight leather but they should at least be able to see the funny side of it. And the keyboards; let’s hear it for ‘hard rock’ band serving up cheesy-synth-solos. The funny side, see!

We park the kombi where we probably shouldn’t – a helpful local warns us we’ll likely have our tyres slashed! – but it’s as close to the venue as we can get. Valve amps get heavy when they’re carried over cobbles for any great distance. We grab a couple of armfuls of gear each and head for the bar. Through the heavy wooden door we are greeted by two things: the denim and leather clad owner sporting a vintage Iron Maiden T-shirt and a song blasting from the stereo. It’s The Final Countdown...da, da, dah, dah, da, da, dum, dum, dum!

We don’t play that kind of rock music, I never had a mullet and I’m not allowed leather trousers but I appreciate living in a country where such things are not beyond the pale.

(This video has a few other thoughts, and a few photos, from the gig.)