Month: December 2024

Day 496

Wednesday November 13

Right. Off we go to Madrid. We’re traveling with a plan for action. We’ve bought a seat on the plane for the guitar and a PA speaker is packed into our luggage. This is a holiday with intent. We totally intend to Now Hustle. Oh, it feels really weird to be going back. I’ve been in touch with a few friends there, but many aren’t there anymore, what with ten years and a Pandemic having passed since. So yeah. I left there and came to London just over ten years ago, that anniversary having passed just over six weeks ago on Tuesday October 1. I don’t want to risk leaving people out right now, so I’ll just say here that one person we do totally expect to catch up with is Rick who Maja has got to know quite well through phone calls and all the voice memos we send between ourselves. He’s been massively interested in and encouraging of our musical adventures from the very beginning and has followed our whole story about as closely as anyone.

Before we get to tomorrow, I’m going to jump forwards a bit and cover just this. We play a show of some sort on four of the five whole days we’re here and we even have an offer of one on the fifth day to potentially complete the set. But that’s the day on which Frank Turner plays, which is the whole point of this trip so we weren’t going to miss that. During all this we also manage to get ourselves known in Madrid’s very own CBGBs, yep, named after that legendary New York venue. By the time we leave, we discover that that bar has now playlisted a whole bunch of our songs and has had a few people asking about who it is they’re listening to.

This is all to come. As for tonight, there’s no getting out and seeing even a bit of the city as we arrive at our hostel sometime around 3am. This does add just a touch of surreality to our Madrid welcome as three of the beds in this six bed-room are already occupied and we don’t want to disturb anyone. So we have to organise ourselves without turning any lights on. That’s exactly about as not fun as it sounds. 

Day 497

Thursday November 14

Up and about relatively early and I see now where we are. I knew we were in the Malasaña area of the city, which is essentially a city within a city. More about that later. But now I see we’re right around the corner from where I used to live. Well, one of the places I used to live; my Madrid history can at times be too complicated for even me to get my head round. In the six years I was there I lived in four different places and had temporary stays at a few others. In between all that I also attempted to leave Madrid at least four times with the fourth one finally sticking, and that was the move to London. There were two moves back to Cork in Ireland, and an attempted move to Hamburg with Drunken Monkees. I actually once told the whole story of Madrid in a flashback episode of ten chapters in Mark’s Diaries. But with Mark’s Diaries being over a million words long, I have no idea where in there it is. But it is all in there. Of the four places I lived in Madrid, three were in the city centre and one of them – the first , Begoña – was a little way out in the north. Of all of them, the longest lived place was the one in Malasaña, a really quite large apartment on Calle de la Puebla. It’s right around the corner from there we’re staying now. So once we’re up and out, the first thing we do is take that very short walk to the first junction which is indeed Calle de la Puebla, then it’s a quick walk to the left and there we are, looking up at floor number four. Three years I lived in that place. Half my time in Madrid. 

After that we double back and take a walk out onto Gran Via, the main city artery going through Marid. I guess the London equivalent would be Oxford Street. Then it’s breakfast upstairs in a cafe window overlooking Gran Via, facing down towards the busy intersection of Callao as we take it all in. After this we head back into Malasaña as I introduce Maja to the city labyrinth. It truly is. In the six years I lived in Madrid and the three years I lived in this exact neighbourhood, I never did manage to truly work it out. Which led to a few interesting walks home after various nights out, and quite a few times meant I was late for meeting friends after inadvertent detours, usually after thinking I was smugly finding shortcuts that had never been discovered by anyone before. You’ve basically got all the big main streets of Madrid, but come behind them, behind Gran Via and you find yourself in here. A kind of diagonally pushed square shape of a place. You really could live a great and full life in this neighbourhood without ever leaving it. Supermarkets, bars, nightclubs, music venues, simply loads of independent shops. And a whole bunch of beautiful plazas. It’s all right in here. But be warned it really is super easy to get lost and lose all sense of direction. My sense of direction can often be quite bad anyway, but it’s almost as though I never lived here and I’m not even ashamed to admit that a few times I’m really not sure which direction to go in. On the other hand, Maja’s sense of direction really is quite good and I should be at least mildly embarrassed to admit that after a few days she’s the one of us walking round Malasaña with more confidence and assurance.

It’s also worth a mention that the streets are super narrow. So narrow that the tiny pavements are buttressed by regular bollards. Which are really needed as Maja discovers in a moment of shock when a car barrels past us and she gets a good swipe from the wing mirror. It’s a brush really, but still. The psychological shock. She’s just been hit by a car. It gets laughed off nervously and we carry on our way. 

Come afternoon and we’ve had our look around Malasaña and it’s time to get out into the big wide city streets. We’re on a tapas hunt and I know a few promising places, although I constantly add the caveat, which I’ll hopefully just mention the once now. I was last here ten years and a pandemic ago so anything could have changed. But we don’t get to check out my places as a sudden pelting rain hits as we’re heading down the wide pedestrianised boulevard of Calle da la Montera. Madrid’s terrible at rain so this is an unwelcome surprise. Luckily we’re right outside something of a tapas restaurant so this becomes our any port in a mini storm. Also luckily, this is the only rain we experience in the entire time we’re in Madrid. I’m going to say now that in the six years I was living in Madrid I only remember being caught out once in a whole the whole skies are opening downpour. And that came in my first few weeks, maybe even my first week. Covering the rest of the week now, the weather really holds out for us. A little overcast Thursday, Friday and Saturday, but comfortable to be out all day wearing just light, often open jackets. But after a little walking, even that often turns to just T-shirts. We spend most of the time in high teen temperatures, at times even sneaking into the 20s. Then on the Sunday the weather really treats us as it surges up to mid and then even late 20s.

Back to today and afternoon effortlessly morphs into early evening and we decide to go get the guitar then hit a few bars before heading to Triskels to see who’s around and to play the open mic. This is still deep in Malasaña territory, a walk up the hill from that place I used to live. So yeah. Triskels was my local for quite a long time. 

We’re greeted by a massive exclamation as soon as we walk in the door. Head barman Damien. He’s from Cork and arrived in Madrid not long after I did, got his job in this bar and that was him sorted. Brilliant. The place almost fits him like a suit now and he wears it very well. It’s great to see him and have a hang out now as the bar’s still a little quiet so we’re able to chat at our leisure and he is of course introduced to Maja. 

Then Rich arrives. He’s been running the open mic here for, could I say 12 years? Maybe even 13 or 14? I remember when he began running it, taking over from Woody who was the host when I first started going. Woody remained very active on the scene for the whole time I was in Madrid, but Rich became the open mic guy and even began one or two others in other venues. I got in touch when we first decided to come to Madrid and he knows to expect us tonight. He’s alternating it now, every other Thursday with someone else, but he did tell me he’d be running it tonight which is great. 

The open mic is downstairs from the main bar. In a kind of cave like setting with a preliminary room at the bottom of the stairs before you reach the actual venue. This extra room used to be just a place you passed through, but it’s now been transformed into a whole extra bar area. Much more homely and much more roomy. It also means more people are able to be down here and see and hear the show. Which of course means a bigger audience for the performers with this room having something of a restricted view of the side of the stage.

A few people I’d lightly arranged to catch up with here tonight haven’t been able to make it for various reasons and hopefully we’ll manage something while we’re here. For tonight we have Rich, and a few other guys I know, all musicians. Melanie, Kestor Ian and Dave. But for the most part we’re unknown so let’s see how we can hit in here tonight.

The truth is, we hit damn hard, receiving the best open mic crowd reaction I’ve even seen. Anywhere. And we have the video to back that claim up.

We’ve settled in nice and comfortable near the front of the stage and it’s a good quality, entertaining open mic. Rich does his really lively punk type thing to kick things off and it all runs wonderfully smoothly from there. We’re on fifth or sixth and we have three songs. The whole place is pretty much full. About as busy as I’ve seen it and you wouldn’t fit a whole lot more in here. And it’s not exclusively performers either. Loads of people have just wandered in from downstairs and it’s just a really lively pub atmosphere with most attention at what’s happening on the stage. It’s not a sit down and be silent place either although there is a lot of respect for the performers, but one or two tables will continue to talk between themselves. But then we’re called up and almost as soon as we begin, that all changes and the room is ours. We smash it out hard with Make Me Shine. As we get deeper into the songs and the different rhythms start to take over, we can see people looking at each other like, what the hell is this. 

Then the first verse is on and I’m out in the audience and Maja is up there in the spotlight doing her thing and the whole place is just in the moment. I make my way back up to the stage for the second chorus and have to duck a little in front of Maja to get to the side of the stage. There’s a microphone stand there and I just brush it. But it’s massively overbalanced to the edge of the stage and it just goes. I stop playing and try to grab it. Maja carries on singing. A few people scream as the microphone and stand goes totally toppling. I’ve no idea who, probably Rich, but it’s caught and put back, I resume playing guitar and me and Maja are totally back in it again, sailing right to the end and a huge reaction. The crowd settles back down, but where there was mild talking before we started, there is now expectation with everyone looking up at us and just waiting to see what we’re going to do next. I’m not aware, but first Maja has to sort out something with the mic and Rich comes up to help. Sounded fine to me but OK. While they’re doing that, I’m at the front of the stage just staying in the zone and getting ready. We’re on now and it feels really on. I bounce up and down, just limbering up. But this ignites the crowd all over again and a cheer goes up. We’re ready now. Talk About The Weather. Another huge hit. Then we hit with the finale. I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). But before we play that, Maja does that thing we feel increasingly like we have to do, and announces that these are all our own songs. This gets one of the biggest cheers of the night. Apparently they thought these were covers and now can’t believe they’re the creations of the actual band in front of them.

Oh, this whole thing is breathless. The whole thing has had the look and feel of a band playing to its own fans who have been in complete anticipation of this night. The lighting is epic and some of the scenes come right out of a huge headline show, especially a moment when Maja leans into the front a little and they all stand up, hands in the air towards her as she just stares and sings over it all. Wow. Whatever I thought I expected coming back and playing here, I never imagined or dared hope of a reacion like this. All the years I’ve been hosting, attending and playing open mics all over Europe I’ve never seen a new act come in and get this kind of response. I haven’t even seen established local favourites inspire any kind of reaction remotely approaching this at an open mic. Afterwards, Melanie comes and joins us as we go for another drink and a bit of a chill back upstairs. Oh wow. Maja. This is Triskels. The place has done us proud. What a night. And what a return.

And one more thing we may come back to. Drink measures. While we’re chatting to Melanie I hear Maja order a gin and tonic. I turn round in a few minutes and see it sitting in its nice thin, tall glass, with a pint of water on the side. I later learn that the small glass was water and that the pint thing was the gin and tonic. With something like a quarter of it containing gin. I feel like that hobbit guy in Lord Of The Rings. ‘It comes in pints? I’m getting one.’ Oh, it’s so different in Madrid. In London everything is measured to an almost scientific degree. Or at least the maximum you can have in a measure is almost scientific. Believe me, the lower level isn’t scientific; underpours are practically industry standard to the point of being encouraged and even enforced in some bars. I know. I’ve worked in a bunch of them. I know. I’ve literally been pulled aside and given a stern talking to for filling a wine measure to the actual line of the measure. However, I did once ask a newly arrived boss where he stood on underpours as I didn’t like them. He looked at me like I’d just asked for an unpaid year off and said, ‘Er, that’s called stealing.’ Well, in Madrid it’s apparently called giving. 

And here we are. In Triskels