Europe, Love it
Rock in the Castle
www.rockinthecastle.co.uk
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One advantage of being in Europe is that flights are cheap and short. As you know, I have to ROCK, so when I heard about Rock in the Castle in the UK, and how it’s Terrorvision’s last show EVER and rumoured to be The Wildhearts’ last show EVER, I figured it was worth the trip. Nitebob, a friend from NY is going to do Hanoi Rocks’ sound, so all the more reason to go. Waking up at 6 am to get the flight, I get the bus to the airport, which I have to run for because I am in the wrong place. I scan duty free, and still no Cuervo. I buy candy instead – good for all day festivals, and to pass out to friends.
I get on the plane, and the last lot in are Hanoi Rocks, with Andy, Michael, and his girlfriend in the row directly behind me. This will be interesting. My special meal comes along, but I can’t get a Bloody Mary with it. The stewardess promises it will be along later, but somehow I missed the booze cart. My iPod doesn’t work, and for the first time I can’t sleep. I go to the toilet, and on the way back meet Michael Monroe in the aisle. He seems lucid, and we chat about the concert and my friend from New York I am going to meet, Nitebob, their soundman. “Nitebob knows everybody!” he says. When I go back to my seat, a sleeping Andy McCoy rouses and asks, “Who are you?” “A figment of your imagination…,” I respond as I sit down. We land and Michael says he’ll tell Bob I’m looking for him.
I leave the terminal to the curb to meet up with my friend who is coming from Germany, Christoph, and my phone does not like his number AT ALL. This phone and service are usually great and I try about 5 different ways to dial. I call my friends Scotty and Jenni just to make sure I can call UK numbers. It works, and they offer suggestions. I go back to dialing, and Andy McCoy comes out and asks me if I am going to the festival. We introduce ourselves, and he says, “I’ve heard of you. You have a band… out of New York, right?” I am stunned. He didn’t seem that, uh, alert, but his mind is sharp. I tell him of my phone woes. He helps, too. Doesn’t work. He offers me a ride on their bus. I don’t want to leave Christoph, so I use the payphone inside, and that works. Christoph finds me, I thank Andy for his help and the offer and we go off.
Christoph and I talk rock and roll in the car, our love for the well-crafted song with hooks, and our guilty pleasures of being pop fags while I try to navigate. He is genuinely surprised when I tell him I have Britney Spears on my iPod, but I also have the Crucifucks, so there you go. We stop at roadside eatery for a break, and I immediately gravitate toward the geese. There is a warning sign: “these animals bite.” I bet they do. There is a Scooter Club Rally in the area as well, and a bunch of them are also stopped. After scratching our heads over what ‘tom’ is, we eat sandwiches and use the toilets. We cannot leave without photographing me with the “these animals bite” sign, and predictably, the geese try to bite me as I pose for the picture.
We check into the B&B, freshen up, and walk the long way around the seaside to get to the Albion. We meet up with Scotty and Jenni who are already there. We pound a pint quickly, being unsure of the schedule. I do not want to miss Plan A. When we get to the venue, they do not have me on the guest list, so we have to walk to the record shop to buy tickets. I run into Michael Monroe, who seems not as, uh, alert, as he was on the flight, and he mumbles incoherently so I just keep walking. “Seeing Michael Monroe stumble up the hill was worth the price of admission alone,” Christoph remarks. We ran into a group of rockers wearing their Wildhearts colors, and they tell us, “You’re going to wrong way!” I tell them we need tickets, and they tell us to check at the pub. I barge in there and holler out to the first table of obvious rockers, “Which wunna youse has the extra tickets?!” They only have one, and they kid sells it to me for 20 BPS. I try to give him more, and he won’t take it. We go to the shop and get Christoph’s, and find Scotty and Jenni who waited patiently for us by the entrance of the venue.
I take pictures all the way up the hill like the tourist I am. Of course, the first thing I see is the beer line stretching from one side of the venue to the other. We look around for a schedule, and there is not even one posted by the tent. A girl selling Plan A merch tells me they are on at half three. It’s about 3:00, so I’d better get in line – first things first. I talk to some nice boys in line named Lee and Steve to pass the time, who are there to see inME, “and the Wildhearts, of course,” they add. I must have stuck out like a sore thumb, because I meet a few folks. Wildhearts Web God, Wayne comes and finds me, and tells me someone offed himself by lying across the train tracks, so the trains have stopped running and people with tickets can’t get to the show. I tell him of my bungled press pass, and he offers one later before the Wildies.
I spot Danny McCormack of The Wildhearts (and Yo-Yos, if you guys remember THAT article on coolgrrrls.com), get an ID confirmation from Wayne, and walk over to freak him out. I wait on line with all the kids who want photos and autographs. I keep my head down, and when it comes to me, I lift my head and say, “Howdy, stranger.” He looks stumped, so I offer, “Don’t know if you remember but I’m Kitty…,” and as I put my hand out, he stops me dead, “I know EXACLY who you are!” We catch up for a bit on bands and stuff and he was looking very well. I am terrified of losing my place in the beer line I worked so hard for, so I say, “Good to see you, brother,” and we hug. I must return to my beer mission. At least I can hear the music and watch the bands from the “queue.” Glitterati sounded pretty good, but they were all riffs and no songs. Good riffs, though.
The kid who sold me the ticket spots me, so we let him on line just because they hooked me up! They bring a posse of beer buyers over, so we make sure Steven and Lee get in front of us. It took almost an hour to reach the head of the line, so I buy nine beers for the drinkers in our clan, and we make Christoph play mule for us, too. We set up a beer garden by the small tent so I can see Plan A. After chugging my first, I go to the front to take some photos and sing along – how can you not with “Hey Ho!?” I find Jef of Plan A later on, and we are happy to consummate our internet friendship. He pays me the highest compliment EVER – “You do pissed really well!” Seems he’s seen the drunken photos of me, Cracky (BJ) and Raine on myspace….
We guard the brew from the potential stampede to the main stage for Hanoi Rocks. I am not a fan (see my “songs with hooks” rule), but I have an open mind. I wait until a few songs and go to the sound booth and say hi and wave to Nitebob. He is busy at work, but two friendly faces, CJ and Ginger of The Wildhearts, smile and wave back. One song starts off like a trainwreck and Michael stops it. “Did he really just do that?” I mouth back to the three behind me. I decide to head into the crowd to take pictures. I have this feeling they may not have another show, so I want to document it. I work my way closer to the stage and get some good shots. There is one song that is kind of hooky – 100 something or other? They are spot on with the glam rock posing and struts, and as I watch Andy McCoy’s windmills, I have this image of them as cast members for the next Pirates of the Carribbean!
At the end of the set, I go back to meet Nitebob, who said all the arrangements were a mess and GINGER had to give Bob his laminate! He says to stick around and he’ll try to get me something. Well, a band is coming on that I don’t need to see up close, so it’s back to the beer line. We meet up with our beer line friends again, and I promise to hold the line for them so they can see inME. Steven is wearing just a T-shirt, and the sun is gone. I give him my mesh long sleeved sweater. He makes a face, but gladly puts on the girlie article when faced with option of weathering the cold sans shirt sleeves.
After the second round of three beers, things start to get a little fuzzy for me. The Eighties Matchbox B-line Disaster was better than I expected, though I didn’t expect anything. I wanted to see Planet of Women. They sounded pretty good, but for a self-described power pop band, they were more metal. (To me, power pop = The Knack, Jellyfish, Cheap Trick, etc.) Terrorvision come on, and they are AMAZING. It is supposedly their last gig ever, but they sound so together, like they have a 300-date-a-year tour schedule. I am really frustrated because there is no way I can get up front. A few songs into the set, I decide to try the gate again. I go back to the entrance, give the woman my coolgrrls.com business card, and she sympathetically hands over a photo pass. I go to the pit and there’s NO ONE! I run back and forth across the pit like a duck in a shooting gallery. It’s incredibly windy and it’s raining at this point, but it adds to the scene of this rock stage lit up at the furthermost point and peak of Yorkshire, with the castle in the background.
The Wildhearts set up, as they are filming a live DVD. It is my moment of truth, as I go back to the pit to get photos. First they say, no one in the pit until after the second song, due to the pyrotechnics. THEN the edict comes down – no one in the pit at all. “Where can I take photos?” I ask the most senior-looking security guy. “Out there with that lot!” As he points to the crowd, now in the thousands, and I have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting close. I take a position which seems good, but don’t want to shove fans out of the way who have waited hours for this.
They open with the sing-along “I Wanna Go Where the People Go,” and everyone is chanting. Pyrotechnics are in full force like cannon fire from the turets of the castle. Next up are some of my favorites, “Sick of Drugs,” “TV Tan,” “Greetings from Shitsville,” “Nita Nitro,” and “Nothing Ever Changes But the Shoes.” Being the eternal optimist (which is what got me my pass in the first place), I try to go back and see if they have changed their mind about the pit. I don’t care if my hair catches fire like Michael Jackson’s did filming that Pepsi commercial. I can hear “Geordie in Wonderland,” and the crowd singing along, and what I didn’t see was after the song, Ginger tosses his Fender Stratacoustic in the audience, and Christoph gets it! INTACT! At this point, Ginger is smashing guitars right and left, and most fans are getting the bits. The only song I heard off my favorite “Must Be Destroyed,” is “Vanilla Radio”. They do more of their greatest hits including, “29 X the Pain,” in which seemed to have changed lyrics – “I’m gonna miss this band.” Is it true?
I am going back to the pit and a cute boy walks along side of me and says, “It’s too cold for rock and roll!” I heartily agree, as I am wearing a mitten I bought that looks like a baseball glove. Terrorvision comes up in conversation, and as I rave about the show and said they were one of the main bands I came to see, he says, “I played with them tonight!” We go backstage and I show him the photos and promise to e-mail them. The second Lee I have met today says he’s a Yorkshire boy, too. We talk about rock and roll and all kinds of things we can fit into the few minutes before he has to go. We hug goodbye. Another cool rock friend!
I get out to the crowd for one last song, as my pitch for the pit is fruitless. We head out of the venue and to the local pub for one more pint. I meet a girl from the Wildhearts list, Julia, with her boyfriend, and find out she lives in Stockholm! So I have made a new friend for my return that I already have something in common with. We find a taxi stand, that is like some kind of surreal reality TV set – a young girl sits on an older man’s lap in a glitter dress that is open to below her navel. A midddle-aged woman comes in ranting, throws an ashtray across the room, and begins weeping. Each character that reveals himself is stranger than the next. I doze off as Christoph gets sucked into a bizarre conversation with a stranger.
Christoph and I went back the next day to the scene of the crime, and though the Castle was closed, the older gentleman there said that place was in great shape, the neighbors didn’t complain and they’d like to have more rock concerts there! That seems like a first! Christoph and I head off to Leeds, where we have a fruitless search for a pub that serves Fish and Chips (Who knew!) I have to go to Manchester Airport, so I take the train. Upon checking in, I run into the Hanoi Crue again, and Andy asks me if I had a good time. I did, I respond. I ask him the same. They had a tough time of things, and he’s tired. I think back, and am convinced if Johnny Depp didn’t use Keith Richards as a model for his pirate character, he could use Andy, who is the Real McCoy. I doze off on the plane, and as we are about to land, someone taps my shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around. I could have sworn Andy said to me, “You’re gonna be a star.” I smile and close my eyes again. After a day like that, I sure feel like one.
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