Chris Taylor's Blog
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America (Austin,TX)
From what everyone had told me, Texas was the first of two culture shocks we could expect whilst travelling accross the country from Philly, the second being California. Now I know Austin is known as much now for South by Southwest as it is anything else, but I was enjoying the fact that it was Texas more than anything at this point, and was expecting spurs, cowboy hats, and many saloons. These would have to wait though, as the sun had set, and apart from the heat, we could have been anywhere with many cases to carry and a bus to catch. Our bus arrived and as we had little clue where to change for our second bus to the hostel, I asked the driver. The guy looked back at me, a hint of disgust in his eyes. 'I dont understand you!!' he shouted back at me. Ahh Texas hospitality. I tried again, toning down the british accent a bit and he said he'd try and look out for the stop but couldnt promise anything. We figured it out on our own eventually and ended up a few blocks from where our hostel was. We were in a predominantly Mexican area as it turned out and having never been to mexico or Texas before, and having played San Andreas one too many times, I assumed that everyone wearing a white vest was in a gang and that we were going to be killed shortly. We werent.
The Hostel International was awesome and felt like our first genuine hostel experience, meeting people from all over the world. We wouldnt see it fully until the next morning but the hostel was in an awesome location too next to a river and with plenty of land to just chill on, and a few days later, rest up after one too many drinks. But im getting ahead of myself. We headed out for some burrito's and then called our first night an early one ready to tackle texas head on the next day.
We'd heard alot about 6th Steet through SXSW so we headed there first to get a lay of the land ready for that night. Even in the day, you could see the potential in sixth street. So many bars, venues and clubs backing on to eachother, Live music running all day long. Incredible. We werent quite ready to let it all sink in though. We'd done so much walking around NY and Philly that we decided to do the same here. Just go and see what was about, off the beaten track a bit. Find some bars, something to do, and save 6th street til that night.
Within a few hours we'd sunk a few beers in an awesome little sports bar/saloon, hit one of the few remaining Indie record stores, found the veggie Mecca that is wholefoods, and then we saw something promising in the back ground. It was a 10 foot orange dinosaur. This was mini-golf Austin style. 18 holes later, I was triumphant, and Nigel crushed. At least I hope to think so. A Belly full of beer, and sun on my face we headed back.
There was an open mic accross town so we got showered and ready to head out. We were in such a rush that i forgot the address and name even of the place but we found it eventually. It was an old school coffee house that reminded me of old american shows like party of five so i got a little excited, but I couldnt see any other musicians there. There was a simple reason for this, the open mic wasnt until next week. Fuck. We were both trying to save money at this point so we decidied to walk it back into the city, but the city lights were an intimidating distance away. So once again we were walking. And walking. 45 minutes later I see an orange glow in the distance. It was an out of town Hooters. It would be rude not too.
After some very quickly sunken beers and friendly service, we got a photo of us with the girls and we were two very happy campers.
With a spring in our step we paced on into town where we'd caved to the idea of getting a taxi. And then we saw it. It was basically a two seater sofa that is pulled along by a guy on a bike at break neck speeds with a stereo pumping out 80's Genesis hits. Yes fucking please. 5 very excited minutes later we were ready to tear this city in half.
It turned out we'd hit 6th street on the busiest night of the month and the town was heaving. An i'll advised treble of Jaeger and a few more beers topped us up and before we knew it we had hit 4 or 5 clubs/bars until kick out at 2am. In this time I had stormed the stage at a piano bar to sing along to Oasis and Jumped on a bar to get my photo taken with coyote Ugly girls. Austin was my kind of place.
The next morning I threw up. We had a chilled morning that included hangover food, Ni getting his hair cut by the worlds campest mexican for $8, and making some friends at the hostel.
As an interesting result from all the walking, my feet were actually fucked, in a very serious way. I had about 5 blisters, and my shoes had fallen apart, so we headed out to find a skate store or somewhere i could buy some new kicks. An hour later, I was the proud owner of some Vans and my previous shoes would have to fend for themselves in a 7eleven dumpster. We went for a bit more of a wander, grabbed some food, and then prepared ourselves for the thought of alcohol again.
We hit 6th street again that night, were sold the concept of a Roller derby that was happening a few days later (its girls roller skating and beating the fuck out of eachother. Sick), and hit a few more bars. It was a slightly more subdued affair than the night befor but we were sold on Austin and even contemplated staying there longer. I cant believe looking back we only really had 2 full days there but we did so much.
The next day, we had to pack as we had a date with San Francisco and two more scary, scary planes.
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America ( New York)
Im not sure whether to tell the whole story, the bulletpoints or the roundabout tale of my trip to the states but im sure it'll all meet somewhere in the middle.
The act of actually flying out to America was an experience in itself for me as im relatively untravelled and had probably spent less than a few hours combined from assorted trips into europe. I had dreamed about making this flight a million times before, especially growing up. Its almost seen as cool to hate on the USA a little these days but if we are honest with ourselves, the very idea of america is a little like a childhood memory. From candy brought back to us from well travelled relatives, to the old school video casettes rented on saturday afternoons, america has always been a somewhat familiar daydream. The skylines, fire hydrants, big gulps and city lights would surely stretch out to greet me and it would be amazing. But i feel I might digress slightly from the reality of what I knew to expect. There would be a lot of drinking. There would be hostels in hidden corners of the city. There would be internal flights that would put the shit up most well travelled flyers (the things are like rockets with wings). On this grandest of voyage I would be accompanied by a Mr Nigel Groom, a partner in crime since as long as i could rememeber, and best friend. This would be a first for him too. Our bags were packed, organised and ready for 2 weeks of abuse.
First up was New york. Landing in JFK and getting through customs was a trip in itself. I felt like i'd smuggled in a bag of smack unknowingly to be discovered at any minute, and my feet were ticking. The hostel was fucking horrible, but what i'd expected. 12 beds to a room, full of constantly sleeping wrecks and annoying english people. It would literally be a home for our bags and 4 hours sleep a night from then on.
Manhatten looks exactly like you'd expect it to in a really good way. The buildings, the cabs, the police cars, time square and empire state are postcards spilling out before your eyes. That night and the first full day we walked. And walked. And walked. We saw so much that i felt like we'd experienced a weeks worth of New Yorks streets in a day. Times square, Broadway, everything. We'd even done the empire state building.
Getting back to the hostel early evening we found a friendly face and asked where was good to go in New York for a proper night out. We felt like we'd seen so much of manhatten that we were open to suggestion.
'Brooklyn'. Brooklyn?? I dont know why that conjured up images of drive bys and crack but it did. We were reassured that Brooklyn was in fact the coolest part of NY and where all the students partied. 'Williamsburg' he said, 'but stay away from the river.. its dangerous if you get too close'. He didnt literally mean the river of course, like we'd go swimming, just a little bit closer to what we'd imagined perhaps.
Brooklyn is incredible. It feels like the place where real New yorkers live. I felt like we'd dropped off the map and had arrived somewhere really new. Fueled by equal measures of Snapple and vodka, the best drink this side of vodka slushpuppies, we hit a couple of bars and wandered further afield. We stopped people on the street and asked about the cool bars and clubs. We invited oursleves to other peoples parties. We heckled mustache bearing hipsters, and drank more until spilling out into street the morning air let us know that a taxi home and hangover would be the next port of call, not another club. We were ok with that.
We'd pretty much spend the rest of our trip in NY in and out of Brooklyn as the first of my shows was to be there the following afternoon. It was already Sunday. Skipping through the bad omelettes, guitar shopping and buses, we were back and looking for the first of two venues that i'd get to play, badly as it turned out.
They say that every show, good or bad, is good practise/a learning experience and I really understand that now. Playing Petes Candy store under a given name of Chaz Taylor for the afternoon I managed to forget melodies, drop picks and all other manner of keys but the crowd were good and made up entirely of the thankfully forgiving other musicians. My playing wasnt the real issue though, and my lack of practise aside, I realised as soon as i hit the first badly played note of one of my songs, that i just needed to write new songs. My songs. Songs that made something and that would rise to such an occassion.
Now im not one for kissing ass when it comes to things musically, I try and call it as i see it, and there may have been one or two bad acts that whole afternoon, but there were some fucking talented people there. The bar had been raised and i payed attention. Even more so when an incredible guy called Darwin Deez stole the show effortlessly. It felt like seeing prince play in your local. Amazing. We caught wind of another show just a few blocks over at a place called Matchless so we thought why not give that a go too. It was very quiet and not quite as quaint as Petes, but I had a 15 minute set and it felt more like a proper show. I even gained a russian yoga teacher as a fan. Darwin Deez had also made the trip the few blocks over and managed to take performing his music to an unseen height at any open mic i'd ever been to. He actually demoed a new song he'd been working on, played through his Ipod and guitar amp, whilst he danced and drummed his way through it. You had to be there but theres a good reason why Deez's music was one of the most qouted and sang along too as we travelled accross the states.
The next day the sky opened and it pissed down for hours. This was our last day in New york, Leaving for Philadelphia that afternoon. This was the day we chose to go to the Statue of Liberty. We caught the subway to the ferrie and made the trip accross to see her. We took a few minutes on the deck to catch some air and take some snaps. I posed, then looked past Ni for a second, which is all it took. She has alot more impact then you might think, especially when you just look up and see her. We were really aware that we were being tourists doing touristy type things but in that instant there seemed to be nothing deliberate about it. In real life, she just looks different. The features seem softer and more feminine, the green is brighter, and you can see the seams of her that had been so painstakingly put together. A work of art simply.
A few hours later and we are on a Greyhound bound for Philadelphia, ahhh Rocky Country. We passed through New Jersey, The soprano's theme tune sat in the back of my mind as made our way along the east Coast. We were 20 minutes away from arriving when the bus just stops. The turning of engines. The bus had died. Where the fuck were we? -
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Cheers guys,
Chris Taylor x