Tunabunny in the UK, part two
The next day we make the long, uneventful drive to Glasgow. We’ve purchased a couple of CD boxes from one of the WH Smiths along the motorway. One is a 3-CD New Wave comp. And one is a 5-CD punk/New Wave comp [Tip for next tour. Buy a 6-CD comp of 60s soul, and intersperse the punk/New Wave with the soul – Ed]. We take turns passing them between the two vehicles. It passes the time. At one point, we make a bathroom break and I ask if everyone is “sorted for wees and poos” which people find hilarious. Long drives have a way of calming everyone down. Even Mike can’t hold a grudge after his delicious breakfast. We arrive in Glasgow just in time for the load-in. During our set, we get a couple of requests and Brigette notices that about half the audience is singing along. I should point out that our records aren’t available outside the US unless you order them from the label and pay to have them shipped overseas. We get called back for an encore. And after the show we are inundated with people wanting to talk to us. We’re signing one guy’s records when the girls he’s with start teasing him. “Get him to tell you about Tunabunny Tuesdays!” they shout, causing him to go, “Och, I told you not to say anything about that”. After some gentle prodding, he tells me that every Tuesday he listens to nothing but Tunabunny. He also observes a Sub Pop Sunday. I tell him that’s really cool, and when I used to work the overnight shift at 7-11, I’d have similar theme nights.
All ten of us spend the night on the floor of an extremely kind and extremely well-read radical feminist. I lie down next to the bookcase in her living room like it’s a teddy bear or something. There’s three shows left in the tour. I’ve got cuts on my hands, bruises on my knees, a strained leg muscle, and a sore shoulder. Shrag is nipping at our heels, continuing to get more ferocious and free-wheeling in an effort to match our intensity and unpredictable nature. Audiences are going crazy, shouting and dancing their way through both bands’ sets. Surely things have to slow down at some point, right?
Next installment: Liverpool, Nottingham, London, and the long trip home
Related posts: Tunabunny in the UK, part one
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