We’re invited to play Summer Well Festival In Bucharest, Romania. We were opening the main stage for bands like Jungle and The 1975. We’d fucking made it.
Flight to instabul. Flight to Bucharest. Chauffeur pickup. He even had a sign with “RED RUM CLUB” on it. Driven to the best hotel in the city. The Hilton. Complete with swimming pool sauna and free food. We were Rock Stars. Finally. Rock stars without guitars or instruments mind you, they were in Istanbul somewhere but we didn’t care. We had people to sort stuff like that now and we’re all busy ringing our mums to tell them we’d arrived safely.
On arrival at the hotel the artist liaison had told us that there was a table booked in our name in the best club in the city. A night in one of Europe’s craziest city’s was on the cards. We should have all behaved as the show was the following day... but we’re Rock Stars remember.
The rest of the night can either not be fully remembered or spoken about without incriminating someone in something so I’ll leave it to your imagination.We got back to the hotel at 5am.8am: Knock on the door. Tour manager “guitars haven’t arrived” he told us, “everyone that has an instrument must go the airport to verify themselves before the can track were the are”. Our soundcheck is at half 2.
It slowly dawned on me that I don’t have an instrument, and didn’t have to make the 3 hour hot round trip in a bus. Shortly after, I suddenly remember the swimming pool and sauna in the hotel. Then I remember I was a Rock Star.
I waved the lads off, totally supporting and respecting the sacrifice they were all making as they crammed into a cattle cart, heads banging, body aching, and stomach churning.Me and our manager George then went for a refreshing swim, and a lovely sauna. We had some beautiful lunch and were just about to have our first ice cold beer of the day as the lads returned. I raised my glass to them as they entered the hotel. “Well in lads”
We’re all Rock Stars but only I lived like one that day.
Fran
