Manchester - No rain! And I mean not a cloud in the f*cking sky, we go for a nice walk in the suunnshinne, down under the industrial mainlines and past the old cobbled arches, but bloody hell Manchester has changed.

Huge glass skyscrapers and overpriced department stores dominate the skyline and the make-up of the city, great if you have money, but as we're skint shopping is definitely not on the list. Food is, however, as the last thing I touched was catering the day before and its half-past-two now. A few coffees and cigarettes and a cleared head we wander down to the Xmas Market in the square, still a bit early to get excited in my eyes, and then back to the arena to see if Weller has soundchecked yet.

More Stella, in fact that and water is the only thing on the rider, but beggars should never be choosers, and a walk around the arena and we realise the scale of this place. I think Manchester is the biggest place we play, and I feel it. Like a football ground (a good one, like Bolton's maybe) with seats going as high as the eye can see.

A couple of us sit for the Weller soundcheck - when you're bored there's not many better things to watching Paul Weller go through a repertoire of classics new and old. The man is not only a gentleman but a true genius, the changing man shows passion. Even at a soundcheck you can tell the brother just adores music and lives it, an inspiration!

Feeling merry again and it's time for our call. Ee decide to change the set a bit, throwing in a start of 'She's Got Standards' and dropping the upbeat 'Romeo & Julie'. As we walk on we get probably one of the best reactions so far on the tour. Adrenaline is pumping and we smash the gig - 'Out In The Past', maybe because of its strong northern riff, goes down a treat as well as our new single 'Great Escape'. We finish on 'Local Boy' and we're off, bosh.

Unfortunately we had to leave to go to London pretty much straight after gig, as our day off in has turned into a meeting, an interview and a rehearsal for our own gig at Brixton Academy on Friday. Joel's girlfriend Gemma drove down to the gig and gave Rob, Dean and Grant a lift home to east London - the others are back on the bus, and its 'Rocky II' upstairs and music downstairs.

We'd completely drunk dry the booze which we'd collected from our own gigs, but we are left with crates of Guinness. I suppose it could be worse - just wish I had a bottle of port too, but I'll stop moaning and keep begging. With only one more Weller support gig on Thursday in Cardiff i'm sure we'll make the most of it, goodnight.

Liverpool - a day off and after a stroll down the Mersey to clear the head and the predictable but inevitable visit to The Beatles store we head back to the hotel (bar), luckily only a few hundred yards from Albert dock, and it's a day of watching football having a few beers.

Weller invites us for a meal and to get ‘smashed’ in Manchester but the fucking trains aren't working. God bless the British transport system. So, drowning our sorrows, some go out into town while the others go for a Ruby Murray (curry).

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This will be the first night to us in Cologne. Don't be put off by the suicide yellow decor; this was a top flight, half star hotel/imperial war museum. For those of you who misguidedly thought Iain was the edgy AJ to our Backstreet Boys, he is, in fact, moisturising.

So when Iain isn't moisturising, he goes shopping for snow globes from every country we visit. Japan were a little too hi-tech to offer such a novelty item, but Europe thrives on this kind of tacky crap. He's pretty specific about his snow globe requirements.

Prague, for instance, employed a little too much craftsmanship and class into their designs. Ornately carved, glass creations are all well and good, but no substitute for a shitty plastic dome with plastic figurines pritt-sticked on.

Struggling with a map in Amsterdam. The language barrier was affecting our ability to find the Majestic Hotel. Haa! Aaaand that sounded like a caption by someone from Nuts Magazine. Right on. We were actually looking for Anne Frank's crib and other cultural landmarks. Not really... we stared at ladies of the night all day and then blazed doobies all night. Or not.

This is just here as proof that we are a band on tour, rather than some cosmetic applying gaggle of tourists. This is Munich. Iain, Shay and I are all feigning an ability to fix bass amps by looking at them. It has not been used since.

This is, according to Phil, a "30 second exposure". Its technical photography speak for 'kinda blurry', I think. In which case, I'm a really good photographer. He spent all that money on a new camera, and I take pictures like this on my phone all the time.

Finally, the piece de resistance. No photo collection is complete without the old drunk-straddling-czech-polar-bear snap. Some people have pictures in that pretty square, or on that nice little bridge. No no. Not me. I'm all about the polar bears. He'd look even cuter if he had eyes...

Words: Aled Phillips (Vocals)
Pics: Phil Jenkins (Drums)

Some people just don't get it do they?

My name is Joe and my band is called Tubelord.

Last month we released our second single. It was called ‘I Am Azerrad’, named in roundabout tribute to the mighty rock writer Michael Azerrad, author of seminal rock texts ‘Our Band Could Be Your Life’ and Nirvana biography ‘Come As You Are’. At the climax there’s a line that goes “I’ll kill you Azerrad,” and it’s led to a spot of bother…

At some point over the summer Mr.Azerrad and myself had a lovely chat whilst we were in tour with Blakfish. He wanted to talk about the background behind 'I Am Azerrad' and so we did.

After meandering through topics such as D.I.Y ethics, Meneguar, him interviewing Kurt Cobain and Mark E Smith, Levi-Strauss and Jean Baudrillard, we collaboratively managed to decipher the song was about the death of authorship towards music, literature and all sorts of culture industries...This is not in a 'DIE MOTHERFUCKARRRRRRRGH' sort of way but in this sort of context.

So after a couple of months this piece appeared, and we were in SPIN magazine (we’d already been in NME, of course).

I was well pleased, my Nan rung to tell me that my Mum had told her that she should be proud but if she was honest she 'hadn't heard of the blaady thing'. I laughed.

ROIGHT! Anyway... the lovely people over at idolator.blogsnob started to cry and become overtly defensive of their Mr.Azerrad. They actually believed we wanted to kill the lovely fella. Such a shame. Maybe they didn't get it.

They definitely didn't.

I'm over it.

Bye.
x

[MP3]Tubelord - Night Of The Pencils

It's about two weeks into the recording of our second album and the tapes are whirling, knobs twisting and takes are being taken.

The intensity of the first week's recording has subsided somewhat, therefore we've been treated to a little of what New York's night life has to offer.

Just yesterday Mark Ronson took us out to a Kaiser Chief's gig - yet being the busy fellow that he is we left him performing and partying into the early hours whilst we ended up knocking back Tecate (a Mexican beer)/tequila rounds and falling asleep (or fighting in a local karaoke bar, depending on who you are!). It's now 3pm on Sunday and we've done nothing but watch American football and eat chicken.

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We’ve been to Manchester, Hull, and Leeds now, acquiring quite the scenic tour of this country. We’re excited that we’ve passed the halfway point intact, while gaining an appreciation for the towns we’ve only heard about from Smiths songs or episodes of The Office. Just another 14 days to go before it’s officially the longest any of us have gone without taking a night off.

It’s what you would expect: fast-paced and thrilling at times, and tedious and incredibly draining at others. We’re meeting tons of people and becoming experts at roadside eating establishments like Little Chef and Welcome Break. We try for any chance to partake in “normal” activities, like shopping and strolling. We try to read books. We watch a lot of DVD's. We decided to take this opportunity to talk about our first (or favorite) concerts. It’s not a mind-blowing topic, but an important one nonetheless that makes us marvel at our younger selves—how they might be intrigued at our current undertaking. Primus, Mike Watt, R.E.M., Sonic Youth, U2, the Sugarcubes, Public Enemy, The Cure—the range is pretty amusing.

For now, it’s starting to hit us that we might actually survive this thing, and we’d be lying if we said there wasn’t a hint of sadness at the prospect of putting this tour behind us.

A Day in the Life

Naturally, a few of us started humming and singing Beatles songs as soon as we got to Liverpool, so someone came up with the idea to do a “Day in the Life” blog about what a typical day has been like on this exhaustive (and exhausting) tour, titled after the song. We readily admit that we’d set ourselves up for a terribly boring entry, but still, thought it would help encapsulate—for anyone who cared—the simultaneous tedium and rush of a band on tour.

Like most days, we started the day off by checking out of our Travelodge. Having passed through the UK a few times before, and now well into our 30 Shows in 30 Days tour, we’ve become quite the connoisseurs of England’s various Travelodges. We give Liverpool’s a 4.5—not as nice as Leeds’, but miles beyond Birmingham’s, which seems on the verge of collapse. Depending on what time our load-in is for the next gig and how far we have to drive, we either: a) grab some food, then leave immediately; b) grab food, stick around and explore the city, and then leave; or c) hit the road as soon as possible. Luckily, England’s fairly driveable, unlike the States, and we can usually find time to bum around town.

In Liverpool, we had a nice English breakfast (for lunch), then took some time to visit a war memorial and an art gallery before heading off to Carlisle in our bulky, cozy van. Van life involves laptops, DVDs, books, and some music programming here and there—some of it serious, and some of it purely for our own amusement. Usually, it’s Noah huddled over his Macbook, composing classical scores or cheesy techno.

It’s amazing how early it’s been getting dark here. By 5:00, it’s pitch black outside, which was the case when we finally arrived in Carlisle and unloaded all of our gear. After sound check, a few of us sneaked out for some Italian food before returning to a good-sized crowd at the Brickyard—a nice, if chilly venue resembling an old church. The audience was great and seemed to have a fine time. After loading out—an arduous process, especially when you’re dead tired from a show and going on very little sleep—we drove to the local Travelodge and checked in. This one wasn’t bad: a 7.0, at least.