The Sights Tour Diary Entry No. 39: Brighton Rock
With BBC 4 Radio as my soundtrack, I am in the front seat of Lester with Ben at my right, driving to Holyhead, Wales.
A few days ago we left Europe’s mainland and took the Eurotunnel, flying underneath the English Channel. The hotels in the mainland can be quite interesting. Kyle discovered a weird quirk of our shower in a room in France — the light inside changed colors from blue to green to red. It’s like being inside a self-cleaning portal while floating outside your mind, man.
It was good to be back in the U.K., a land where you don’t have to pay to drop mother nature in a porcelain bowl. We drove to Brighton and did some much needed laundry. After our visit to the launderette we loaded into the venue, the Brighton Centre. And by we I mean, the band, Ben and Mel – one of Tenacious D’s crew. When the local crew came to finally help us (we were done), the D’s stage manager said to them “it’s ok gents, I’ll try not to wake you from your nap next time.”
Brighton is a seaside, southern city and this is the third time I’ve played here. The backstage had photos of who have played before and I snapped a pic of Paul Weller and The Jam playing here in 1980. Fuck yeah, love The Jam.
Skip, Jarrod, Kyle and I walked along the seashore, the same beaches Jimmy from Quadrophenia walked and the same beaches the mods fought the rockers in the early ’60s. I remember a cool vinyl record store called the Punker Bunker, but I couldn’t find it this time around.
Back at the Centre, we climbed onstage to massive cheering and delivered an excellent set. We pulled out some oldies like “Good Way to Die,” a song I hadn’t thought about in years. It’s nice to think these songs hold up and aren’t a part of some hip trend of the month (I just can’t dig the new breed). Anyway, the show was great and as we walked outta the venue to leave we got a massive round of cheers. Cheers to you, Brighton.
The night ended with a snack stop in the middle of nowhere and Ben introduced us to Monster Munch. I had a laugh with something called ‘Reggae Reggae Chicken Pasty,’ but I couldn’t bring myself to buy it. What the hell is it, a mouth bag?
All the best,
Skip’s Current State: hungover.