Well, what can I tell you?
Upon viewing said Beautiful Thing, your intrepid correspondent and your fragrant editor of course could not dirty their eyeballs on the Cooper Temple Clause. So off we set to procure backstage access and something resembling an interview. Fortunatley for yourselves and your correspondent, your lovely editor is a born blag artiste. (Honest, you should see her. She could get into the Last bleeding Supper after about three minutes effort.Fantastic.) Thus, Beleagured Looking Secuirty Dude on the desk vanishes backstage to proffer her request for said interview to the band. Meantime, we have acquired a randomised small person, who it seems will be joining us. Ever so excitable, but enthusiasm is always appreciated.
But further to the knee, business in the form of slack interviewing must be conducted.
Given that this is a polished version of what one Mr D Ford, obscure-ish musical type bloke of Sussex origins, has publicly referred to as the 'slackest interview of all time' (honest, he did. It's on the website and everything) some explanation may be required. In fact, due to the conditions of utter slackness under which said interview was conducted, probably necessary.
So, then. Rock City. It's an odd little place, is Rock City. I once snogged a woman in purple fishnets in here while a Dutch bloke looked on. It's that kind of place. But I digress. On this night, it is home to a date on the stunningly pointless Cooper Temple Clause tour, headlined naturally by the stunningly pointless Cooper Temple Clause. Support is provided by our merry trio of minstrels from Eastbourne (and you will, I promise, never hear me use the words "merry" and "Eastbourne" together again)
I have not as yet seen Easyworld live before this date. Upon doing so words, quite literally, fail me. It is a Beautiful Thing. Life is for some reason conspiring to keep this Beautiful Thing in shitty basement holes like Rock City's stage area, but all that's going to change. And not a second before time.
Anyway, Easyworld.
The proposition for the interview is met eventually by the appearence of Glenn and Jo. My, my, my.
Jo Taylor does not photograph anywhere near in the region a woman of her fabulousness should do. This is why cameras should all be melted. The woman is utterly stunning. Jo Taylor, in short, looks like she got every single immaculate feature you’ve spent your whole life wishing for. And she looks good with ginger hair. It's not fair, but tremendous to look at-though I assure you she is far more than a pretty face. As will be seen.
She is joined in the foyer of Rock City by Glenn Hooper: Prozac Man. From the second I set eyes on Glenn, the major thought running the gauntlet of my tired little head was, "I want to know what he is taking and I want to know where I can get some." You should have seen the boy. Beaming, he was, absolutely beaming. I get the impression he could listen to an S Club 7 Children in Need single on loop for three hours and still be smiling at the end of it. For a grown man with pink hair, this is a feat as impressive as it is endearing.
So anyway, by this point they're taking us backstage. Dav is somewhat conspicuous by his absence, but this is because the poor love's sitting on the dressing room floor looking moody. Dav Ford should be the most obnoxious, pretentious little twat you've ever met. He should be, but somehow....he just can't do obnoxious. He is in fact one of the sweetest little boys I have ever spoken to. And tonight, he has a bad knee.
I know this, because he tells us shortly after we seat ourselves. He has in fact bashed his poor little knee about a bit. Your correspondant has also bashed her little knee, and so ensues a Knee Injury Comparison fest (not sure who won, but mine was so much worse than his. I bashed my chin up as well.) Neither my memory or my notes serve to inform me as to how the poor love had bashed up his little knee, but it was ever so grazed.
You must understand that this is really not my fault. Your editor had planned this down to the minutest detail. She had even previously been in touch with Easyworld’s “people” (OK,one bloke who ended up telling her to email Dav anyway-but hey, don’t it sound good?) to arrange prior permission for this interview. She even spent the interlude before the Fucking Cooper Fucking Temple Fucking Clause appeared frantically trying to write a memory-jogging little note to Mr Ford on the back of her ticket. The blag successfully completed, half way to the dressing rooms she sweetly informs me that she has neglected to bring a) her dictaphone and b) her list of questions. Professionalism just oozes from our pores, doesn’t it?
So we’re improvising. Or I am improvising, and your editor is staring at Jo, which I must admit is not a bad thing for a person to be doing.(Note: Due to lack of Dictaphone, and the expressed desire of Easyworld to not be taken out of context, your bumpy-kneed correspondent will only directly quote statements she can remember clearly. The rest is write up from my scarily tiny notes, but thus accurate. Look, I just don’t wanna be the one to wipe that smile of Glenn’s little face. Do you?)
There is another support band on this tour. Their name begins with the word “Ocean”. My notes refer to them as Ocean thing. This shall be thine new name. Ocean thing are suspected by certain members of Easyworld of pilfering beer from the rider. Ocean thing are BAD, BAD PEOPLE. You do NOT thieve from Easyworld with impunity. Your day will come. (Note: you probably should not steal generally, not just in an Easyworld context, but they wrote “Stain to Never Fade” and you didn’t, so they jump the queue) Aside from petty criminal student bands, they tell us the tour has been good. Glenn says Manchester was the best date. Dav concurs, stating that Manchester feels like a hometown gig. Considering Dav is from Sussex, I am confused enough to let that one pass. Though Jo tells me he did drop out of Manchester Met, so maybe not that confusing after all.
They then tell a disturbing tale I can only half remember involving a gig at the Hop and Grape with King Adora-apparently a very enjoyable one-but which ended with a fight between the bands. Sadly, my dear reader, I have failed to record who won. But I’m sure that mental picture will sustain you as it does me through the long cold nights. Or perhaps not. Moving swiftly on.
Serious question from your editor: Why does the Easyworld fanbase contain such King Adora overlap? It ain’t like you could get them mixed up on a dark night.
Dav thinks Easyworld have inherited King Adora fans merely by virtue of being on the same bill. Apparently the base of Easyworld fans have seemingly been recruited via KA support slots (Well, not me. I was recruited via Kate.) Easyworld have apparently “learned a lot” from touring with King Adora
Horrific Mental Image Theatre #2:
Glenn: “They were the parents”
Eurgh, frankly.