Welcome to part 3 of Tournee De Satanists.[Parts 1 and 2 can be found by clicking HERE] Last week we left the bands flailing around in a dark windowless room with a cricket bat come broard sword – like you do – here’s what happened next…
Day 6: Metz – Le troubadour –22/01/15
The next thing we knew it was eleven the next day; we were late! No windows or light of any kind means only one thing, no perception of time at all! – A hippy Vegas.
Escaping Brussels was a damn sight easier than entering it. Snow lay thin on the ground as we headed towards Luxembourg and Metz.
A foodless morning meant that we were burning a deep hunger that would be sated by everything and anything. It was going to be too difficult stopping in Luxembourg and undoubtedly very fucking expensive! That meant the next stop would be the holy grail (supposedly) of terrible motorway food. Having never set foot in one of these horrifying establishments in my life, I found myself reluctantly starring at a hellishly laminated sign with pictures of carcasses wrapped in bread; being in Belgium meant that there wasn’t a single veggie option in sight save a wilted bowl of leaves covered in vinegar. I would have happily eaten a raw piece of soya cooked on top of a beef stained oven but alas, I was destined for the finest carb known to man, chips.
Leons’ burger didn’t agree with him; we were both truly buggered by the king.
We arrived in the stunning city of Metz an hour ahead of schedule for our record store show so decided to grab a much needed coffee next door. Thomas filled the jukebox with change and just as we were about to enjoy Gene Vincent, a long eyebrow wearing Frenchman approached us with offers of TV stardom in the North of France. His bulky frame imposed itself on to our table and proceeded to sell us his idea, complete with maps and business cards. It sounded convincing, but they talk the same talk in every country, the problem was we couldn’t tell if this hairy aeronaut was the real deal. He nattered until the coffee was dry and we needed to set up, though we were still a good half hour away from the show, it’s always a good excuse. We set up and still had time to go digging. The hip hop section made our jaws drop on more than a few occasions, our wallets opened and we were denied at almost every turn.
We played to five people, two photographers and a dog and then went back to the crates – I picked up an LL Cool J 12” and the first Mr Bungle album for under 15€ and Leon snagged a Bo Diddely Classic; our hearts were still torn for many amazing finds we just couldn’t afford.
A quick game of pinball and the gear went back into the van, up the road to the venue and then out again, down some precarious stairs and into a gothic basement. Set up/soundcheck blah blah blah, you know the rest.
Metz is a big student city and we appeared to have the Crème de la crème of thuggish looking fresh faced mecs and alternative pissheads; hidden inbetween were some down right lovely people, but you know how it is.
My voice had started to go, probably due to the crazy temperature changes and lack of H20, but what can you do?
Outside the venue a polite Frenchman almost ran down a couple in his car and then started a fight with them for walking on a pedestrianized area, the same trouduc would later go for another complete stranger; idiots are idiots the world over – Inside the venue a drunken pouffiasse poured cheap beer over me for any number of dire reasons that were not rock’n’roll enough to print; use your imagination if it hasn’t been burnt from your mind due to over exposure to Tinder and Buzzfeed jabber.
The theme of the evening had the intention of partying, but our faltering bodies were too tired, something was wrong. Maybe we were getting too old?
The promoter and our host led us back through the gothic spires and cobbled streets of Metz to his apartment for a quick beer. We hit the sack with the force of a hurricane fighter plane and drowned in the dry heat that seems to permeate French culture. They truly love central heating! France likes it hot!
DAY 7: Paris – L’olympic Café – 23/01/15
We had yet another paying ride, this time to Paris, though a timid young guy with glasses joined us; he appeared to be learning to drive, either that or he had a fetish for road signs. He didn’t say much.
As is mandatory for Paris, the traffic was as thick as Swiss cheese and the attitudes of drivers and cyclists alike was so renegade that it was a miracle the only accident we saw was a man dropping his fresh goats head into the gutter. We found out a few days later that the American government had declared the black quarter, where the venue was situated, a no go area due to it’s ‘obvious’ terrorist links, but aside from the copious amounts of dealers operating without any thought whatsoever for anyone seeing them, nothing was out of the ordinary, save the rogue decapitated goat wandering around blindly; Doctor Moreau was the most likely culprit.
Compared to our last few shows in Paris, this was somewhat of a non-starter by all standards. A girl bought a t-shirt then took a photo of herself wearing it before subsequently getting photo bombed by Leon and I; weirdly she didn’t stay to watch the show. The food was amazing and the show was cold.
I ended up staying in Paris whilst everyone else drove back to Rouen for a proper nights sleep, which in hindsight would have been a better option. Instead a bar crawl through the Quarter Pigalle resulting in a series of extremely dark events was to be my fate; the story is one I’d rather not regale or possibly even remember for the rest of my days. With all its flaws and graces, Paris is a beautiful hive of dirt, cher tourism and dastardly joints playing sleazy music; you just have to know where to look. The lights were sullenly beautiful that night.
Tune in next week, same time , same channel for fourth and final episode which see’s the Tournee De Satanists encounter ‘whore turcks’ and dodgy Nazi porn.