Saschall, Florence
Hello. I am English. I speak no Italino. I am called Ben and I'm playing the guitar and things with Aqualung, who is also my brother. He is called Matt and he speaks no Italiano. Travelling with us is our old friend Matt Vincent-Brown who is playing drums and speaks no Italiano. Then there is Daniel Tuite (that's pronounced 'tyoot') who is playing keyboards. He speaks un poco Italiano. Happily Tony (Front of House sound) and Roberto (stage sound - sorry 'Production Manager') are Italian and they speak molto Italiano, so perhaps we will be able to survive at least until Switzerland. Completing our party is Paul the tour manager, Fish the backline tech and Steve the driver. They speak no Italiano. They barely speak English.
We are all travelling around Europe in a big silver bus, and opening the show for David Gray, who is in fact touring Europe for the first time himself. So no one knows what's going to happen, apart from evenings filled with thoughtful music made by grateful pop seniors who thought they'd missed their chance...
We left on Saturday afternoon, having chosen our bunks and explored the video selection (Cocktail! The Jackal!! Three Amigos!!! Global Hockets!!!!(?)) and been introduced to the new satellite TV system which is the pride of the coach fleet and the envy of all other buses (but doesn't work).
And so we drive and drive and get on the ferry and drive and drive some more through France and Belgium and Luxembourg and Holland and Germany (at least that was what I was told. My grasp of geography is extremely feeble and someone may have just been taking the piss out of me). But I can definitely be sure that we passed through Switzerland, because that was where I woke up on Sunday morning. Through the little porthole in my bunk I could see blue skies and snowy mountains. So we hadn't just been driving around the M25 for the last twenty hours.
A while later we arrived in Milan, where we would have to stop for nine hours while Steve the driver went to sleep. The bus is his master. When it bids him sleep, sleep he must. It's a bit like Knight Rider, but I would imagine the bus is a bit less camp. So we took the metro to the duomo and laughed at the policemen as if we were school leavers on an inter-railing holiday. And then we went to the San Siro stadium to see AC Milan and Chievo failing to score any goals. And then we went home. And then we went to bed. And then we woke up in Florence. And then we bought some cheese and ham and ate it on the river bank. And then my English teacher gave me a poor mark for Composition.
From the outside the Saschall looks like a cross between a circus tent and a weapons silo, but inside it's very nice, and most importantly there are lots of showers.
The first day of any tour tends to be chaotic as everyone plugs everything in for the first time and wonders why nothing's happening, so we were prepared for the classic support band's five minute soundcheck, which was just as well because that's exactly what we got.
Earlier in the day Matt VB had run into Fred from Boston, who is studying in Florence and is a big fan of David Gray. He seemed sane initially, but, obviously feeling some kinship with the band, he spent most of our set standing in the middle at the front shouting "I love you, truck driver Matt!" (Matt was wearing a t shirt which says Truck Driver on it, see). Which was all very well, but we were trying to be subtle and sophisticated. He was louder than we were. It was not the greatest of performances - Matt's solo redition of Nowhere was the highlight for me. He should get rid of the band and go it alone...
Roberto grew up near Florence, and had invited his sister and some friends to the gig. Afterwards they gave us a lift into the centre so that we could see the sights, including the duomo which looks as if it were fashioned from nougat, and the Ponte Vecchio which you can imagine has been the same for six hundred years. It is indeed a beautiful city to walk around at midnight.
