TOUR DIARY: The City Lights InThose Spanish Eyes

Tue 5th Jul, 2005 in Features

Bruno Brayovic, called up for guitar and keyboard duty for The City Lights spills the beans on the band’s recent tour throughout Spain. So much for what goes on tour, stays on tour!

We’d been sitting inside the Qantas club thanks to Kit Warhurst (drummer for Rocket Science and for now, also drummer for The City Lights) who is a member. He was only allowed one guest and that position had already been allocated to James Roden. It was left to Harry Roden and I to scam our way in.

Twenty-six hours later we found ourselves on the other side of the world. However, it became apparent very quickly that our luggage wasn’t going to be joining us. This included pedals, guitars and a handful of Australian native birds, which Kit was trying to smuggle into Spain in a suitcase full of seeds and water. My bi-linguistic skills took care of it though. Luggage was on its way.

Our fears about recognising who would be picking us up, were eased when we saw David from Bittersweet Records (named after the Hoodoo Gurus song and Spanish label for The City Lights). He was instantly ROCK – wearing a Matthew Sweet t-shirt and sporting a long, dark mop-top with sideburns that looked like maps of Italy.

David took us to our hotel and out for a quick beer. A quick beer? Oh if only it had been that simple. Noooooooo…. we had to make arses of ourselves and get horridly drunk like English backpackers cruising Ibiza. I apologise to the Spanish people for our behaviour that night. Particularly to the nice young art students who nearly swallowed their own tongues when I put it to them that their national artistic treasure, Salvador Dali, used to bottle his own shit. I don’t actually remember saying that, but James was kind enough to remind me the following morning. As it turned out, there would be plenty of chances for me to return the favour.

The next few days consisted of rehearsing during the day and checking out the Madrid bars at night. The bars around our hotel were outstanding. Bartenders become your best friend and drink with you while the music is loud and rocking, with The City Lights making the odd appearance over the speakers thanks to some DJs with good taste.

At this point I should probably mention that by this stage we had been joined by Danny Allen who had been touring England with his other band Youth Group. Danny would be with us for a few days and thus, for four shows and a couple of TV appearances, The City Lights would become a Five-Piece, Rock ‘n’ Soul Revue Extravaganza.

The gigs… ah, the gigs. Look, realistically, the most interesting bits are the ones in between the gigs. The people you meet, the things you see and do, the alibis you give to the police when they interrogate you about the shoebox of amphetamines in the trunk. But I guess something has to be said about the shows. It was, after all, what we were there to do.

We started off with a three-song set on Spanish MTV followed by a small-scale outdoor festival, which we opened at around 8pm. It was a good warm-up for the ensuing pub shows.

The next day it was off to Valencia for our first proper pub show. We piled into what was already becoming a familiar home setting, the tour van, driven by our tour manager, Christian Barros.

No account of this tour would be fair or complete without mentioning Christian. I came to know him as Zen Master or “no worries” Barros, as his cool, calm and collected demeanour made any potential problem, situation or disaster into the equivalent of putting out the rubbish. Note to UN, third-world debt-relief agencies and peace-brokers around the world – Christian is the man to fix these problems. And he’ll do it whilst rolling you a spliff the size of a Cuban cigar.

The Matisse Bar (yes, even the pubs are filled with high-culture) in Valencia was a reasonably sized room. We were met there by the local promoter, Miguel. Playing to a couple of hundred people was a great way to start the pub-show part of the tour.

A Sunday night show at Castellon de la Plana’s amazingly small, but rock-as-fuck Ricoamor Bar was next. A small but enthusiastic crowd met our pop-rock-soul inclinations with great fervour, making this one the gig of the tour so far.

Now, let me explain as concisely but accurately as I can about that drive back to Madrid that night. You see, basically, we were high on life…. and drugs, heaps of drugs. Yes, we had been drinking and someone unassumingly sold me an 8-ball of coke. Honestly I didn’t know it was coke. I thought it was speed.

Things got a little out of hand, I let fly with a few choice words at James over something of world importance. James then in turn, literally nearly pissed, writhing around the floor of the van yelling in pain himself. Harry swiftly told him to “get it together and shut the fuck up”.

When we finally did stop for a toilet break, Danny tackled James immediately after pissing, Harry and I photographed them, Kit was courageously trying to get us all back in the van, while Christian just stood there, spliff in hand, smiling. I apologised to him about our primal ways but he just replied “no, no… I think is funny”. Then the cops turned up. Ah fuck. For a second I thought of Schapelle Corby. Then I thought of Douglas Woods. Then I realised both cases were a bit extreme to be comparing to our situation. Luckily Christian was able to charm them and off they went.

Things got a little calmer after that and we arrived at Madrid close to 5am. Getting up later that morning for a TV appearance was rather difficult, but we managed. We played a half-hour set to a ring-in crowd who seemed to appreciate it.

The small town of Lierganes was our next destination. This was close to the best gig of the tour. It was certainly the best one as a five-piece. The Los Picos bar was placed in the middle of a valley in the far north of Spain, which looks like the far south of France, funnily enough. Harry dubbed the beer garden as the “beer-garden of Eden” thanks to its majestic and grandiose views of mountains, forest and the odd little house.

We really thought that no one would turn up due to the remote locality of Los Picos. Lo and behold a healthy bunch of rock enthusiasts willed us through a cracking set. I would personally like to thank the guy who kept sticking joints in my mouth during my keyboard bits. Unfortunately this was our last show as a five-piece as Danny had to jet-set out of there to join Youth Group in the USA. It’s a tough life.

Aranda de Duero came and went in a flash. Probably because we had a few teething problems as a four-piece again and the show wasn’t as well advertised as other, making for a smaller and more subdued crowd.

“Well it never rains in southern Barcelona”. Not many people know that those were the original lyrics to the famous song about Southern California. Barcelona, with all its glorious Gaudi architecture and cosmopolitan European lifestyle, seems more of a beats and bleeps kinda city, rather than the tight, black jeans and studded belt Madrid employs to keep its pants up. Regardless, a couple of hundred Catalonians turn up to the KGB Bar to witness a decently rocking show.

We then ventured out into the night to some reggae bar and then some god-awful nightclub where Kit and I were asked to leave for dancing lying down on the floor and smoking a hash pipe, respectively.

The next night’s show in Madrid was probably the most important one as everyone from the label would be there and we knew it would be the biggest turnout. We weren’t disappointed as we rocked to around 400 Spaniards, many of whom knew every word.

The Madrid experience was a great success, even allowing for the fact that James had a touch too much to drink towards the end of the show and couldn’t really communicate with anyone afterwards. Kit, Harry and I got plenty of exercise carrying James out of the venue and up the hotel stairs and into his bed.

The last show was in the smallish town of Cartagena, at an Irish Pub called Underground. This was by far the best show as a four-piece and possibly overall.  Without blowing my own horn too much, I would like to specifically point out my post-gig David Brent dance in the middle of the dance floor as a highlight.

An instore show at FNAC department store was the last time we rocked Spain. We were well and truly knackered by this stage. I feel almost as tired just remembering it all. A whirlwind tour had come to an end. We came, we saw, we drank, we rocked, we drank. We had some good times, we had some tense times. We gave hope to the hopeless and hap to the hapless. Thank you Spain for hosting The City Lights. See you in December… maybe.