New year, new me? I've never resorted to uttering such bollocks in my life. However, maybe this year is actually going to be different. I usually end up writing these blogs by finding something in the world that annoys me greatly, having a giant moan about it, and then drinking it off in some bar I happen to upon wherever I’m travelling. I would say that my blogs from Barcelona and Lisbon were well written examples of this. I have one written about a certain phone company that shall remain nameless, and a bar in Victoria BC as well, and boy is it ever a moan.
This time though, I’m going to change course, vier left, and for once, not be such a miserable prick. Yes of course, January felt like it was 812 days long. That fat orange cunt has ruined relations between America and NATO, as well as breaking international laws left right and centre. Continues to threaten to invade sovereign nations such as Greenland and Iceland. Canada as well. All while tensions with Iran and Israel have literally blown up. Putin is continuing to kill innocent civilians in Ukraine in his ruinous steadfastly mission to relive the glory days of Stalin's USSR. Not that there were any mind you. Inflation is through the roof the world over. And I'm sure that someone else is up to their usual Boss Hoggery somewhere. But, right now, I’m currently sitting in Florence, and it’s lovely here. There are cobblestones, and tiramisu. Hand carved bricks, and statues older than the New World. And I just decided I don’t actually care about any of the previously mentioned nonsense anymore.
I’ve had a lovely couple of days in Italy. Starting off in Rome. The people are a joy, the food is *chefs kisses*, and I’m in love this the Italian attitude towards most of life. You see it in everything. From the cabbies, to the street vendors, and the tradies. Everyone seems to live with what ever the Italian version of a laissez-faire attitude is. Then packs up for a 2 hour lunch break. And a cigarette. As well as seeing the usual medley of old bricks and cobblestone pathways, I’ve witnessed a pantheon of umarell. Which is the act of retired blokes, watching over construction sites with their arms folded behind their backs. making sure the youths of today are doing things correctly. The peer pressure must be exhausting, but it is rather comical to observe the observation. In between chapters of Andy Wilman’s Motoring Adventure, I’ve eating tiramisu by the lorry load and given up counting the sheer volume of cappuccino’s I’ve consumed, but the fact remains, Italy is utterly blissful, and I simple don't care about the outside world anymore. Past the smorgasbord of homemade mozzarella and house cured hams, we (the band) are also releasing a new single in the coming days. It’s called Too Tough To Die and it is quite literally about us, and our mission, in the game of Rock n Roll, and being too tough to die.
I'll put it to you like this. Being in a band is tough. Really tough. It's a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year grind. And at the end of the year, we might get paid $20 for our troubles. Now, I will say, most bands aren't spread eagle between 2 different countries, which admittedly does add another layer of difficulty to everything. But, that doesn't distract from the fact that at the end of it all, getting on stage and playing the songs for an audience (hopefully), is the easiest part of it all. Shearer once said, "being in a band is 23 hours a day of shit, for 1 hour of fun" and frankly, Abraham Lincoln couldn't have said it much better. The music industry is a tough nut to crack, they say he who holds the gold, makes the rules, and for those reason it's run by people who seemingly don't know anything about music at all. And to add insult to injury, everyone from the label, to the the promoter, the manager, the agent, the graphic designer, the print shop, the barmaid, the sound guy, the light guy, the security, and so on, all seem to get paid before the 5 or 6 wankers on stage. It is truly wild. The fad of the day is what generates revenue, so that's what every record label and executive will pander too. Which is unfortunate, because usually whatever this weeks fad is, usually isn't very good.
Whether we like it or not, Rock n Roll bands aren't at the forefront of any executives playlists. But, that's what makes our mission in Rock n Roll so powerful and important. To some it's just noise, but to blokes like us, it's a living, breathing entity that gives you a reason to get outta bed tomorrow and continue to shovel coal. There's something genuine about being involved with something that doesn't make front page headlines, but has a fan base around the world. The struggles we've (and every other band out there) endured are endless and yet we still carry on because quitting, simply isn't an option to some. What am I gonna do if I quit this? Be a HVAC technician and change filters for the rest of my life? Pop out 3 illegitimate but charming children like every other bloke? I see the merit in it all, the safe life, one with an annual holiday in Cancun, but I feel like I want do more than just plod along.
All of this work, all of this grinding. Twenty years of bullshit and cords, so I can stumble into a pub in Florence and maybe hear one of our song on the radio, or a playlist. The Virgin Rock Bar itself is an excellent throw back to what felt like Britain 2004. Post Spice Girls, but pre Brexit. Kind of the glory days in my mind. The British Empire might have fallen, but we still had cups of builders tea, and Fawlty Towers on BBC2 to be proud of. The bar is small, and only played music from the old country, and what a playlist it was. Oasis, Blur, Travis, Robbie Williams. I don't care how rock n roller a person might be, Rock DJ is a fabulous 4 minutes. With its walls lined in Maiden flags and hand scribbled graffiti, it felt like being back at CroBar. Or Bunny Jacksons. I adore this bar, from its sliding glass door entrance, to its endless pints of cold Peroni. It's nestled away in the quiet back streets of a gorgeous part of Florence, just a stones throw from the Ponte Vecchio, and near a theatre. If you're coming to Florence, don't bother with the Irish pubs, the Paddy's have one in every city the world over, spend your evening butchering Italian, and ordering Peroni from the nice man behind the bar. It's worth noting that you're simply not allowed to request Faith No More here, because it's banned. Along with Roxanne, and Karma Police. And honestly, as they should be. All Radiohead should be banned the world over. Rome was wonderful, but Florence was heaven I highly suggest everyone comes for a cheeky visit, who knows, maybe we’ll play here someday?
In the words of Leon Harrison:
You can kick me to the gutter, or get up and fight
Drag me underwater, or rise with the tide
Feed me to the lions, I'm one of their kind
Born to face the fire, when your hearts too tough to die.
This is our time. This is our anthem. See you on the road somewhere in 2026, and beyond, because we will never, ever quit.
6/6.
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