Dating dirtbombs ko
" " (Y/n) no ;-;' " " Um, sorry dear but, Ko has to come home with me. How about I let you baby-sit him when I'm gone and you can also have a sleepover tomorow? " " F*** off miss Pink you know verry well why I am not your friend. " " ;-; " • You making peace with Elodie NAD FINALY GOING BACK TO YA BOY FIREND. We play swell enough to warrant an encore, but just barely.Straight back to the hotel and watching Ewen Mc Gregor's continent-spanning motorcycle trip through Africa that is truly inspiring and interesting and makes me feel that any complaining I have about touring is nothing compared to what these guys have gone through.But the reason I know them is because those seem to be only songs of theirs that do not have a 3-minute long, noodle-y guitar breakdown tucked smack dab in the middle of something enjoyable.Those four songs are perfect in their succinct, clear and digestible presentation and I didn't mind sifting through their other (read: long) songs to hear them.The club was a step above most other English spaces, with attached restaurant, free internet it was seemingly constructed to actually be a performance space. Backstage was ill-lit and crowded, but had a good talk with the Hipshakes (last-minute add-ons to the gig) before they did their high-energy, mid-Nineties Midwest-style garage punk rock.
Opening band Disconnect4 wasn't my cup of tea and for the 25 or so people there the Dirtbombs were only vaguely theirs.
Turn on the faucet and let it run to get the hot water flowing…after twenty minutes it's apparent there's no hot water and the extremity of the cold water (read: biting) means I won't be showering this morn. Worldwide consistency must be admired in a franchise. The club was a decent enough place and after soundcheck we checked into our hotel a block away.
With absolutely no energy, we nap for the two hours before our set.
I don't know what image that conjures to the British, but for me it means a stand-alone cabin with a quaint fireplace, made of wood, somehow related to skiing.
At ATP, your chalet resembles a Super 8 motel, one unit tacked next to another in a long line of ticky-tacky little boxes. After a hearty beef stew meal at the artists' food compound, made way to check out the bands.