Madelaine Hart

A Turkish cafe in Rotterdam is comforting to a stoke new grin girl.

As Chaim says; You ask a short question you get a long answer. This is Israel.

It was impossible for us to have been more looked after. Adi and Eran’s motto is More. More halva, more vodka, more hummus, more (shall we say unusual) non-alcoholic mixer beer. More. We were showered in generosity.

Beautiful audience- I was given dresses!

Food fight in a bar with music so trendy no one understood it let alone enjoyed it. Oh so much marshmellow. Smeared on faces, rubbed in hair, thrown on shoes. I could not breathe for marshmellow nostrils. Brits abroad was the phrase on most local tongues.

And the sun! Oh the sun! Why have you been hiding from me? Oh yeah, I live in a fucking low pressure zone.

Stayed 2 more days to see Jerusalem. Where do I begin? I don’t. See it for yourself.

Cheese, cheese, so much cheese. We started in Tours, ended in Nante and had the pleasure of Paris traffic at least 3 times.

Jonny knew his diesel engines and Higgs new how to scale a razor wire fence.

La Maroquinerie avec La Blogotheque. Incredible audience.

One man tells me I sing like a virgin. “No- it’s Mad-ELAINE”

After 7 hours in a van, a quick change (sans mirror) and a short taxi to Abbey Road, exhaustion sees fit to push me swiftly and head first into inebriation. Thankfully my only drunken demands were cuddles, cigarettes and straws… fairly standard.

We set the scene; Butlins. Depths of an English winter. Men and women of middle ages wear t-shirts that remind them of their youth and of their middles that are aged. Hundreds of people squashed into the shadows along the back wall. Watching from behind their beers. A few brave ones edge toward the stage. Come forward! What can we give you if we can’t see you? We had to go through the motions and hope they weren’t distracted by the vomity psychedelia of the carpet patterns.

Midi Festival, Toulon… encore… stage invader.

Brighton Komedia; Reserved audience with a dash of hyperactive super-fan. Our dressing room was a cupboard.

Hoxton Bar and Grill, London; Nerves, a tiny red dress. Guitar amp goes sonically missing in first song which brings us closer to the crowd. Baxter natters, Danny re-boots the pedal, we’re away. Our Green Room was a van.

Bristol Louisiana; Musically historical venue. Looks; not much. Feels; special and trodden with many super bands footsteps. Awesome audience. Family presence. Our dressing room was a dressing room.

Arlington Arts Centre, Newbury; Why? How? WTF?! And never again. They did not turn down the house or stage lights until we were on stage due to health and safety. That tells you all you need to know.

Birmingham Glee Club; It was built for comedy it should house comedy.

Ruby Lounge, Manchester; slingshot devices and chocolate teeth.

Nottingham Glee Club; See Birmingham Glee Club.

Captain’s Rest, Glasgow; Grungy venue. Packed. Wicked crowd. Psycho Pete.

HIfi Club, Leeds; I don’t remember. Forgettable?

Mojo Party, Liverpool; Buzzing amps. Homeward bound.

Sexy

Fucking idiots.

Paradiso Amsterdam…. Venue warm, wooden and beautiful. I WILL play the big stage before I die.

“Winkle, dinkle, laphen, daphen strasse, basser plaza” Baxter’s version of Dutch.

Tall, ominous, awkwardly sly man offering whisky in return for Oscar Brown. We could not deliver but take the whisky anyway. He does not alter his face but arrives weeks later at another gig with the same proposal. We do not deliver. We deliver now. Please come again strange man.

I love Nova Radio. What support they show us. You can always listen online for musical magic (not Magic, Nova).

First time I’ve performed in front of 5000 people. 5 minute sound check and a broken kick drum during Picnic on the Edge. Jarvis very lovely and very professional.

Somehow missed Common People…. how?!!! Listening to Jarvis’ sultry tones talking Sunday Service BBC6… how was BBC6 Music nearly axed?

Major catch up in 1 liners, pictures and songs…