Coachella - Gaz Whelan
Sunday 29th

We all miraculously make it on time to the tour bus which has a strange interior, not unlike the club in Scarface complete with a marble floor; it should be nice and cool in the desert? We park in the parking lot with the other 30 tour buses and await the midday heat. The dressing rooms and stage are about 2 miles away so some of us stay on the bus to sleep in our bunks when suddenly like an act of the gods for passed sins committed, the air con dies. I needed sleep so bad I resorted to carefully positioning six ice cold beer bottles about my person whilst sleeping on my bunk.

Tony Wilson, Manchester music mogul gave us an amazing introduction, like only Tony can and which we could never possibly live up to. It was great to see Tony again, as only Shaun has seen him since his illness. We both have a lot of respect for Tony and it was good to see him looking so well. But as soon as we try to begin the first song the computer dies and so does stage sound at the front leaving us in turmoil for the first 4 songs. Now I'm not a religious man but the gods were angry that day my friends!

Once the technical problems were finally rectified we storm into the next song with a little too much gusto, a little like when the car in front stalls at the traffic lights and once the driver restarts the engine they speed off at such an incredible speed as if to prove what a fantastic driver they really are and that the engine failure was due to some unforeseen force of nature beyond their control. Which of course was the scenario in our case.

Once we calmed down the gig takes a turn for the better...thankfully! We are joined on stage by Mickey Avalon for the song Deviants and all is well... the gods are appeased.

We return to L.A. and arrive back at the hotel around 6.a.m. I awake and jump out of my bunk to find the tour bus looking like a student's house the morning after a New Years Eve party! I head for the 24 hour diner and find Shaun already sitting at the counter just about to start breakfast. He is attacking a Gammon steak so large it covers his plate; in fact it's so large my initial thoughts were that he was sitting with a large pink empty plate, until after each mouthful a small portion of pottery begins to appear.

He finishes and heads for bed around 7. I decide to head up to Hollywood to purchase some tacky presents.
Everywhere is still closed so I head for a coffee shop on Hollywood boulevard and sit outside. I notice that the capital building where we recorded Pills and Thrills is only 2 blocks away. Then I remember this is the diner we used to frequent back then! I notice to stage left (in the diner) is a skinny man dressed as superman who is handing out leaflets to infrequent passers by and stage right is a particular grumpy individual dressed head to toe as Captain Jack Sparrow reading the L.A. Times financial section. Superman was obviously a bad actor but I wasn't sure if 'Sparrow' was an actor or just a lunatic? With hindsight I think the latter. This is one of the few occasions I wished I carried a camera as tangible proof. This gave me a reality check and was a reminder that 'lunacy and fantasy' are still the currency of La La Land!

We converge on the hotel lobby to finally check out and we are greeted from behind the desk by the miserable and resentful assistant manager who takes great pleasure in pointing out that we have brought the weather with us as heavy showers were forecast. I seize the moment and decide to cash in my revenge; I opt for an old firm favourite I have used with great success in the past.
"Tickle my ass with a feather", I mutter with somewhat subdued intonation and barely sufficient clarity for him to digest quickly enough. 'I beg your pardon, what did you say, sir? He begins to seethe, eyes narrowing, veins bulging. I casually wait my time and calmly reply 'I said, "Typical Manchester weather, what did you think I said?" As he replies with, "I thought you said tickle my ass with a feather" he visibly begins to shrink behind the desk as if accustomed to his fate. I send him an aggressive stare, the type that if ever possessed by a matador would bring the most pugnacious bull to its knees without a drop of blood having to be spilt. I shake my head from side to side in disgust and pick up my bags to leave.

I then join Shaun and rush across Hollywood to appear live on ex Sex Pistols' guitarist, Steve Jones' popular radio show. We only make it for the last 30 minutes of the show, but 30 minutes was way better than nothing. It was an incredible pleasure for me to meet one of the legendary Sex Pistols (Shaun had already met him several times before). We are both huge/massive Pistols fans; in fact Never Mind the Bollocks was the very first album I ever bought at the tender age of eleven. We then quickly rush back for yet another quick drink then joined the bus en route for the airport.

Shaun and I check in and joined the end of an extremely long queue to go through to departures. As I turn to speak to him I notice he is at the front of the line, a skill he has always used in such situations. We meet up at the bar inside and have a drink with Spooner, a friend of ours who was tour managing The Feeling at Coachella. I also bump into a French friend of mine from Lyon called Roland.....small world, but I wouldn't like to fly it sober!

Next trip....Friday 11th May Transmission TV show.
Missing you already!
Gaz Whelan.