Oslo

It's light outside.  My alarm hasn't gone yet.  I check the room.  Everyone is fast asleep, Kev below me on a few cushions, Luk on a small sofa, Vik on a larger one opposite me.  I need a piss.  This bed is not the most comfortable... I check the time.  Six am.  Fuck it, I'll wait with the piss and sleep some more.

I awake again, now in pain from the need for a piss.  Eirik pops his head into the room, “There's bread ready in the kitchen”.  We all slowly arise like a band of undead and shuffle through.  The bread is warm and tasty although a little hard to slice.  The train leaves in an hour.

I take the most miserly of washes over the sink before we leave.  The air outside breathes new life into my lungs and I realise that despite the lack of sleep I feel ok.  Your body really can take more than your head gives it credit for sometimes...

We walk a different way back to town this time, through an open, green park where there are some students partying, obviously been up all night.  They have a sofa and a couple of arm chairs they're sat around on, still drinking.  One girl is lying a little further away from them, face down in the grass.  The rest of them ignore her.  Eirik tells us that there is some special event going on that the students are celebrating, or something or other.  I don't really take it in.  The city looks beautiful in the early morning light.  Kev remarks on how still the place is, considering it's a Saturday morning.  I guess he's used to Deptford High Street.  We get to back to Eirik's office and meet up with the rest of the Mörkt Kapittel guys who look how I feel.  And probably look... Eirik makes a round of Nespresso coffee for us which is most fucking welcome.  We board the train at eight thirty and set off on a seven hour journey across the hills and plateaus of Middle Norway.

The scenery is obviously quite stunning.  This is truly a wondrous land.  We're sat about in a very comfortable carriage with plenty of leg space, eyes glued to the windows.  I want to sleep but I don't want to miss anything either.  Kev says, “Once you've seen one snowy mountain you've seen them all” but he rarely takes his eyes from the window during the next seven hours.  We have a nice chat with the MK guys during the journey, touching on themes such as the right wing government, the history of that beautiful cathedral, turns out Oystein worked there as a tour guide when he was studying, and screamo.  The drummer, Oyvind, is a very nice guy.  He's sat next to Kev and my ears prick up when I hear them talking about bands like Swing Kids and Kaospilot.  Oyvind is the only guy who wasn't in the band when Victims played with them a few years ago.  As well as screamo he's also a big football fan so obviously we hit it off pretty well.

Viktor has set his clock for one pm, which he has earmarked as beer o' clock.  The MK guys have already been by the time we all follow Vik to the buffet carriage.  I have to say I don't honestly fancy a brew right now but I don't think I can handle another coffee and I feel slightly sick from the two feta and spinach pies I've already consumed.  I convince myself that a cold can will perk me up a bit and along with the other two I follow Vik's lead.  It turns out I do feel much better by the time I finish off the can of Ringnes.  Fucking dancer.

We get to Oslo around three and it's even warmer here than it was up north.  Actual t-shirt weather, chuffed.  Atle and Oystein sort a couple of trolleys from the station and we pile the gear on them before the two of them walk right out of the place and through the crowded streets towards the venue.  Atle says they'll return them tomorrow.  Oyvind, Luk and I inadvertently peel away from the rest of the crowd, deep in conversation and before long we've lost them.  I'm telling Oyvind about this great band from Norway called Dominic, whose records Oystein sent me a few years ago.  Turns out Oyvind is the drummer.  Small world.  Small scene..

We meet up with the rest at the venue, Barrikaden, haven taken a different route.  The venue is a squatted building on a busy street corner.  Seems at first like there is nobody around as we're stood waiting by the big iron door for a while, but then a girl opens up and we follow her into an inner courtyard and then into the building.  The gig room is down a steep, narrow staircase made of stone, in fact the whole building is made of dusty stone and graffiti, just as almost every one of these fantastic places I've been too all over Europe normally is.  The gig room is really small with a very low stage.  It's even smaller than last night.  Twenty people here tonight and I'll be chuffed.  There is a bar in the room and in the corridor that joins the two, at the bottom of the staircase is a corner to sell merch in and a urinal, just there in the open.  We head back upstairs and then up another flight again to the dormitory which is connected to the kitchen.  The girl gives us the keys to the room, it has a cardboard sign outside that says PARADISE HOTEL.    

I check the bed situation.  There are six bunks and they all look equally manky.  I realise that foolishly, I have not taken a sleeping bag or a pillow with me.  I figure my rucksack will do as a pillow, as it has done on many an occasion, and my thin rain jacket will have to suffice as a blanket.  Fuck it, it's warm outside and seems cosy enough in here.  We're told dinner will be around six or seven and then we can soundcheck after that.  Going to be a late show then.  It's only four pm so we decide to head out for a while, Oystein suggests we buy a couple of beers and head to a park with them.  Sounds like a majestic plan to me.

Oystein picks up a falafel roll on the way but being that food is coming in a couple of hours time I decide it's better to wait and use our money for beer instead.  We head to a park not far beyond the squat where there are a lot of people hanging out, barbecuing, drinking beer and enjoying the fine April weather.  We find a spot and park ourselves.  Fuck, even Kev looks half way chuffed.  We spend a couple of hours there, just lazing around, chatting, some other friends of the guys stop by and after a while Atle comes with his wife and son.  They're super nice.  His son is a cracker and immediately I think of Polly and begin to miss her.  Atle lives in Oslo these days and drives trains for a living.  He's seems pretty happy with his lot.  I always dreamed of being a train driver when I was a kid...

We head back to the venue around six thirty as the sun begins to weaken.  The smell of food is wafting through the courtyard but there is no other sign of dinner yet.  I'm beginning to get very hungry now.  The sun's rays are shunned from this courtyard and I realise it's actually a bit fucking nippy.  We pop down the gig room to check out what's going on and find that it's even nippier down there, in fact, it's fucking freezing!  No sound check just yet so we head back upstairs.  No food... We grab some beer and sit around in the cold courtyard drinking them.  This isn't quite the park...

Oyvind tells me that the squat used to be much bigger, that nowadays they only inhabit about half of the building whereas earlier they had the whole place but the cops took if off of them.  He tells me there used to be a bigger stage and on the third floor, which is now empty, they used to have a great vegan café that made these great sandwiches that cost next to nothing to buy.  Shame it's gone.  One by one these places seem to be disappearing.

We sound check around seven thirty.  It's again a quick and painless affair although instead of Eirik's head I'm going through a Peavey combo tonight.  Turns out they don't have speaker cabs here.  Fuck it, sounds good enough with my Blues Driver pedal anyway.  After soundcheck Eirik tells me that he thought my guitar sound was great and asked if he could use my pedal, I tell him he can use my leads too and all he has to do is plug his guitar in.  It's nice to keep things simple during crossover.

Sound check done, the wait for food begins to be a tough fucking slog.  Atle tells me he's starving and for the first time his friendly face starts to turn a little moody.  The dormitory is now freezing fucking cold too and I'm really starting to wonder about sleeping here as we sit around on a sofa and look into the kitchen where there are two punks, an older guy and a younger girl, sporadically looking into a huge pot and stirring every so often.  This goes on for almost another two hours.  How much stirring can the fucking thing need?  I can almost read Atle's thoughts, they're the same as mine.  Luk is talking about meeting up with his friend Maya later on tonight and trying to worm his way into crashing at her place.  He's spending the day with her tomorrow and flying back later than me and Vik.  I tell him he should work on that plan although secretly I'll be jealous as fuck if he manages to pull it off.  The MK guys are all staying elsewhere and Kev is staying at his friend, Ing Vild's, with Alec, who is heading in from London to hang out too, leaving just me and Vik in this dormitory in that case.  I've slept in far dirtier places but at least then I've had a sleeping bag and I've been steamboats to boot.  I can't really get too drunk tonight since we're up early for our flight home in the morning.  I notice a small pane of glass is open at the top of the window that looks out on to the courtyard.  A sense of relief hits me, “Tell you what Vik, we'll have to make sure we close that window before we go bed tonight”.  “Yeah well what the fuck are we gonna do about that?” he says, pointing at the much larger section directly below it that is simply a flimsy piece of cardboard box, taped to the frame of what was once a glass window.  Balls...

After much, much more stirring the food is finally ready, around nine pm.  Sure glad I didn't go for that falafel Oystein piled into five hours ago... I wouldn't say it's worth the wait but it tastes pretty good.  There is some nice spuds and salad and then some stewed veggie protein balls.  Right now I'd eat any fucking thing but the fact is I have eaten far worse and gone back for seconds, as I do on this occasion.  And as long as it took, I still very much appreciate the fact these guys have gotten off their arses to feed us.  It's very kind of them.

Fed and satisfied we head down to the venue which is now open and grab a couple of beers.  Apparently we've all got six bottles with our names on them behind the bar.  Nice one.  The doors have been open an hour and there is a good lot of people here, it's certainly going to be better attended than last night and the place is smaller.  Perfect.  Alec and Ing Vild turn up shortly after, Alec looking pretty tired having been up since four am this morning to make his journey here.  It's great to see him as always anyway.  Ing Vild seems like a really nice girl, she used to work at the café with the guys a while back but she's since moved home.  I think she's another of the dancing crew the guys always seem to employ.  Alec laughs at the whole Paradise Hotel thing to which I chuckle... Yeah... Fuck me, I'm dreading tonight.  Maybe I have to just forget about tomorrow and get pissed, otherwise I'm going to lie awake shivering all night.  How the fuck could I not think to bring a sleeping bag?  After all these years...

To my great relief, Ing tells us that we're welcome to stay at her place, even though it's pretty small she's sure we could all fit in there somehow.  Maybe just a little too enthusiastically, we take her up on her offer.  Now much more relaxed I can enjoy my beer.  The place suddenly feels a little warmer.

I notice Luk has been a bit quiet this weekend, now and again.  He's a deep thinker a lot of the time as it is but he seems to have been a little distant at times this weekend.  I notice this mainly when Vik has me pissing myself laughing at his ridiculous imitation of the Gothenburg accent.  If Vik knows he's onto a winner then like my old man, he'll ham the fuck out of a joke all night.  He had me hooked though and I was crying with laughter at one point.  Vik has that cheeky smile on his face that you can't help but crack up at.  I guess after an hour or so of this Luk is pretty bored of it.  I guess it might not be anything more than that.  Understandable I guess.  The thing is, behind the impression is a funny as fuck Nitad story that unfortunately I can't repeat for fear of leg breaking repercussions.  Shame to waste such gold but some things just have to stay on the road and out of my diary...

The first band start at eleven and play for forty five minutes.  I wouldn't say they're awful, I would diplomatically say that they're not my kind of thing.  They can certainly play their instruments although why they would want to play them for forty five minutes is beyond me!  They have a female singer that has an insanely annoying voice.  The punks seem to love it all the same, they must be pissed up already.  In fact, there is a bit of a weird atmosphere in the place.  There was this one chav looking kid walking around earlier, can't be any older than eighteen, out of his fucking box, asking people for a cig.  He'd made his way up to the dormitory a while back and we had to shepherd him out of there.  There is another crusty kid walking around asking people for money for beer and there are some other non punk types obviously off their tits on drugs mingling about the crowd just asking for trouble.  In fact this one guy gets just that when he starts getting over the top with his piss take dancing and ends up with some punks fist in his coupon.  I didn't see it, but Luk who is stood at the merch tells me he was lead out of the place with blood pissing from him.  Weird gig...

Mörkt Kapittel play around midnight.  The order for the night feels a little fucked up, considering the first lot played for three quarters of an hour, MK play for thirty minutes and then we finish things off with fifteen.  Anyway, MK play an absolute blinder!  I thought they were good last night but it's on another level tonight.  I'm stood right in front of the left PA speaker, it's loud as fuck and the small, packed crowd, bar the few stray non punk cats, love it.  In fact, this raver guy who looks like a wiry little Brit, stood beside me, seems to like it too.  Shortly into the set Oystein pulls his mic stand down to floor in front of the tiny stage and plays there, right amongst the ruckus.  I'm a little worried that he's going to get that mic stand for supper, or get knocked down into the broken beer bottle at his feet, that I'm desperately trying to clear away, but somehow he avoids it.  I have to crack up when Atle ventures into the pit.  The man mountain literally stands there, head and shoulders above everyone else and screams into his mic as people simply bounce off of him.  A quite brilliant sight.

When they're done I'm really looking forward to playing, although I am feeling the burn... It's just before one and although I'm set up, all I had to do was plug my guitar in, the other guys are taking a little while sorting stuff out.  I sit on a box behind Vik's kit and wait it out, trying not to yawn too much.  Once we're going though I find the energy, I almost always do.  If I'm honest, the whole yawning thing was probably a little bit posy... kind of... Anyway, the start of the set feels a lot better, more controlled than last night.  We're halfway through the set and the crowd seem to be really into it but something is holding me back ever so slightly.  It's the sound on stage.  If I'm stood in front of the amp it sounds great, but as soon as I move away it's like all the distortion disappears and it's hard to really get into it if everything sounds too clean.  I know it sounds monstrous through the PA but in certain areas where I find myself now and again it sounds plinky and I can hear exactly how untight I'm playing.  Still, one thing I've learned over the years is that how the crowd perceives things and how those playing perceive things aren't always the same.  Normally I don't care what everyone else feels beyond those I'm playing with, but tonight the fact the crowd seems to be having a good time overshadows any misgivings I might be having.  Even when Vik stops halfway through I Hate Your Life it doesn't bother me, it had gotten a bit chaotic and we'd lost each other, but no big deal is made out of it, we simply start it again without saying a word and blast it out properly.  It's only a thirty second song anyway and I doubt many noticed...

We're called back for an extra song tonight and this time we actually play one.  We're not really that kind of band but it was a fun excuse to play a new song from the new tape, I'm Still Drowning.  It goes down great although we play the end section way too slow!  But afterwards Kev is raving about it, saying we have to put it into the set and people were already singing along with the big hook line at the end.  He's chuffed anyway.  Normally is.  We pack down and hang out by the merch and tonight we actually sell some gear.  The drummer from the first band, who turns out to be a very nice chap, buys a shirt and a record.  He tells us he actually plays in a few different bands, hardcore and black metal amongst them.  Kind of makes more sense.  Top bloke anyway.  We have a few beers with the MK guys after the gear is sorted and they're eager to head to another bar but since we're staying at Ing Vild's and Alec is looking dead on his feet we decide to head back to hers for a night cap.  It would have been nice with a last drink with the guys but there will be other times in the future I'm sure.  As we're getting our gear from upstairs Oyvind tells me that the punks had been planning a big after-party in Paradise Hotel... Thank fuck for Ing Vild...

We walk about fifteen minutes back to Ing Vild's, up a hill through a park and snake through some cobbled lanes.  Really nice, quiet area of town.  But then just around the corner from her place, we hear some commotion going on behind us, sounds like a bit of a domestic going on, a guy and a girl, probably both pissed, screaming at each other.  I don't think much of it at first, having heard it every single weekend of my teenage years in Corby, but then Ing Vild and Alec turn back and go to check out what's happening.  The rest of us stand around in the quiet lane, waiting, the sound of screaming by now long gone.  Some young, smartly dressed bloke then approaches us, talking on his phone to the cops I guess, sounding very worried.  I hear him telling the cops on the phone that “Whatever it was, that guy was not treating the girl very well.”  He then tells the cop that there are some English guys stood here talking about it too.. Fuck knows what's going on here.  Eventually Ing and Alec come back but there isn't much light shed on the situation, they couldn't find the rowing couple.  Kev is obviously pissed because he's making ridiculous jokes, saying he saw the whole thing and he heard the guy telling the girl that he was a pilot and that tomorrow he was going to fly her into a tower.  He really is a fucking tit.  Then the zip on Kev's rucksack bursts and the contents of his bag fall out onto the pavement.  This stirs a good giggle from the rest of us.  He's sat there, gathering his gear, moaning about his bag, saying he's had it for ages and it's finally gone, and that he can't find his pants.  Alec comes to the conclusion that since they can't find the girl and now Kev can't find his kecks that tomorrow the girl will be found lying in a bush with said dirty kecks on her head.  We head back to Ing Vild's, some of us laughing, some of us tired, one of us moaning about his bag.

Ing's place is a cosy little studio apartment with an enclosed balcony, or the outside bedroom, as Kev calls it.  She has a few beers in the fridge, some crisps and dip and some chocolate.  We sit around on the balcony for a while, enjoying the late night mini feast, until one by one we drop off.  Vik and I share the sofa bed in the balcony room, it's small but it's warm.  I fall asleep with a feeling of relief.  I've done it god knows how many times before, and I'll do it again I'm sure, but tonight I'm glad that I'm not sleeping in a dormitory with a gang of pissed up punks wanting to party.