Placebo's infamous SAN REMO Incident
On Friday, March 2nd of 2001 Placebo performed Special K at a televised awards show in San Remo, Italy. The televised song ended with Brian smashing the guitar he was using into the amp, flipping the stunned audience off, and bowing to them proudly. Here's an account of the day's events written by Stefan himself...
"After 9 major cities in 7 countries over 2 continents in two weeks we could have done with a better start to the day in question.
We'd been flying around doing endless promotion for the next single Special K, and we were worn and talked out. Some days
you wake up on the wrong side of bed, but this one did not seem to even wake up at all. It seemed like a very strange and
intense dream, a day which looked back on doesn't feel like it happened. Our journey that had started in London on Valentine's
Day two weeks before took us back there for a stop over from Toronto. Being plagued by foot and mouth disease and recently
traumatized by yet another plane crash, we didn't want to hang around for too long. But of course the connecting flight to Nice
was delayed. Not that delayed flight caused that much misery (pub anyone? Shopping maybe?) but if anything, this was the
domino that started the rest of the dominos falling. We were grumpy from the overnight flight, and just wanted to get the day
over with.
"We knew full well this was going the biggest and probably most 'influential' TV performance of our careers so we held tight. It
was going to be beamed out to 15 million Italians households (LIVE!) and as we were at the end of our tethers, with both the
traveling and tiredness, this was definitely a scenario were anything could happen. And it did. Arriving at Nice which had been
glazed in sunshine for the last three weeks we were greeted by rain. We waited for our luggage by conveyor belt number 4 and
for the first time since our American X-mas radio tour of 98 where an airline sent all our gear to the wrong city, it didn't show
up. Our entire lives were in those bags and we were going to be live on air in a couple of hours. The day was shaping up. What
followed though was definitely a highlight, a helicopter ride to Monaco, Steve and our punk rock legend tech Oggins first time.
Sweet, we felt like kids in a video game. Check in next to the casino, this place reeks of money. Quick times clothes shopping,
cause our clothes were dirty and smelly. In dire need of new cotton fibres. Rush rush. Scoffed a dry ham and cheese sandwich.
Thrown into a van, windy roads to the Italian border, barely half an hour to San Remo. The streets were lined like regents
streets with lit up guitars and treble clefs, this small village is brought to life by Eurovision type festival, what the hell are we
doing here? Paparazzi awaiting our arrival, shades on, straight through only to be greeted by 10 flights of stairs. Huffed and
puffed our way up into our tiny dressing room number 322 and instantly cornered by mad Italian press and TV. Told record
company we need our space of to be respected. They say we must rock 'n roll, "do something crazy", "lick her face", "give her a
snog with tongue", This was talking about Raffaella Carrá, the host whose as big as Madonna here, and they were looking
for us to do some live TV action. Create a scandal. Caked in make-up, lick her? Wrong. Tell us and we'll do something else.
"Chaotic run through with all the wrong hire gear and no-one know when or why we're playing. The cameras aren't even
practising their angles. Waste of time. My stands so shit that they fall over when the even shittier stage shakes. Back up to 10
flights to be greeted by more intruding cameras, GET AWAY!! We get our act together at a hotel nearby. Nearly fall asleep
having make-up done. Put a call to theatre, have a drink in the lobby filled with young boy/girl band looking contestants from
tonights show. Is this the smash hits award or what? Just before call time we zoom through the camera-filled drive way and run
up to gather ourselves. Bri gets told off for smoking, by this time I'm getting so used to the fact of him getting told off for
smoking in non-smoking areas that I laugh. Jotted back to the matrer at hand, some Italian nervous looking floor manager tells
us something in Italian no one understands. He doesn't know if we're on now or later but he gets paid so he's got to look like
he's working.
"Before everything had been properly arranged for us on stage, we're pushed on. The audience seated and dressed in format
eveningwear greet us with enough enthusiasm. Carrá introduces us and were off into Special K, mime mode, give
everyone a run for their money, as nothing on the show even remotely compares to what's being played through the speakers
at the moment. Imagine us playing in interlude in the Eurovision before the votes are counted. Weird. As the cymbal crash rings
out, I see Brian with his guitar above his head launching towards the amp. I didn't get a real good look but the axe comes down
heavy for a boy his size. A massacre ensues, guitar brakes, amp falls to the floor and I look at Steve and we exchange bemused
and slightly confused looks. The Marshall labeled 'Moby' gets pummeled on the floor, As I turn around Bri's run to front stage
striking the most scarily provocative stance I've ever seen him do. I put down my Les Paul and walk off. The hall's in a state of
shock, not a single clap as we leave stage. Time to exit the building, A commotion. Record company at loss for words. What
happened, Carrá stunned. I'm dubious. Security and cops milling all around, while cameras and reporters fall over each
other trying to get us. The Eggman pulls us into the safety of our van. Crazy day with too crazy consequence. Phone calls
coming from all angles, Placebo causes scandal at prestigious festival. No ones sure how to act or comment. San Remo doesn't
know what's hit it. Neither did the Marshall amp. (Get told later that Moby had to play with our equipment. He wasn't happy! Our
gear, we do what we want, we pay for it.)
"We're treated to a meal and a couple of bottles of wine. Record company disappear inconspicuously and we're left to go back to
hotel alone, We try to unwind, but I find it very difficult. Hotel refuses to serve us at the hotel bar because we were not wearing
the proper attire. Bullshit. Snobbery like racism. "But you can have a drink in the lobby". Like saying leave your dog out of the
door. You what!? And we're paying guests! Disgusting. We sneak at fur coats and walking displays of too much money. Bed
exhausted. What a day. Time to go home. We came and did our thing. Try anything once and this time, one time was
enough!"
...stills of Special K & the subsequent guitar smashing...
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