Day 1: Bunnies on the streets of Brighton
Thursday 23rd February 2012
Bob: None of us know Tunabunny so we are nervous as we approach the venue. It’s like a blind date. Only one that lasts 10 days. I’ve had some correspondence with Mike from Happy Happy Birthday To Me records before now. It’s hard to tell from his electronic letters but he seems surly and maybe a little serious. Not an emoticon in sight. Come to think of it I wish I didn’t use them. I’ll be saying LOLZ next.
The moment of relief comes when we are introduced. Don’t think any of them have a surly bone in their body. They appear to be happy to be here. Even Mike. A smile cuts through his beard as he shakes my hand. I’m so disarmed I forget to hand over the merchandise I lugged down on the train from London. All that unrecouped revenue… Tsk.
Tunabunny play their first show and it’s great. You wouldn’t know they’d flown in from Athens today. They capture the manic energy of their recordings and then some. The best thing is I get to watch them every night over the next 9 days.
The Shrag show goes well I think. Lots of inane chatter between songs. I thank Sticky Mike for putting us on and Helen chides me because I warned her I was going to do it. This will not be the last time I say something lame on stage. The tour is young. The hilarity has only just begun. LOLZ.
Helen: I was nervous about this first day. Mostly because I knew we were meeting for the first time, and then heading out on tour with, a bunch of people who I already had a bucketload of regard for and who I knew had not come to the UK before, at least in a touring capacity. I had fallen in love with Tunabunny’s last record, Minima Moralia, read their blogs and music journalism, tentatively made friends with them on facebook, and through all this inferred that we were about to spend the next 10 days with an exceptionally smart, acerbic, funny, and passionate group of people. I wanted them to have a good time and I wanted us all to get along.
On the train down with Bob, I voice my concerns over whether to shake Tunabunny’s hands or hug them upon our first meeting. This doesn’t seem to have been a source of worry for Bob. When they arrive at the venue, I decide to go in for the hug. This is mostly successful, although Scott and I had one of those awkward misinterpreted fumbling mid-air clashes of arms and fingers that make you hate the human body and mutter the kind of inane and insufficient excuses for it which make you hate yourself even more. But the Tunabunnies seem sweet and friendly and I think as excited as us.
Their set blew me away – we realised immediately that we were dealing with something extremely powerful here. Thank fuck. I’m happy, nervous, talk too much and too crassly during our set (especially considering some of my family are in attendance), but it all feels pretty good, and then Steph and I go back to my stepmother’s house and talk loudly at each other for a bit before passing out.
Steph: It feels like i’ve been getting ready for this tour for ages..what have i been doing? Laundry and packing a bag cannot take this long. Touring is like a big sprawling game of tetris…this is what takes up the time…getting all the people and stuff to all the right vehicles and places. This is how you end up having a 50 email conversation about a keyboard stand. On thursday, once i’ve dropped off an amp and a box of t shirts to the Brighton venue, i think this is all over…just fun and shows now…HA! PAST SELF YOU ARE AN IDIOT AND YOU REMEMBER NOTHING! I remember me and my friend Alan talking about how people we know drink alot so they don’t remember when people tell them the same stories over and over….is this linked? I don’t know, i can’t remember and i’ve been sober for a week and a half.
I have a really shit phone, it’s like an evil little robot appendage that controls who i talk too. Sometimes it will let calls through, sometimes it won’t. Same with messages but for a tenner every two months i can’t let the little bastard go. It’s up to me to make telephone contact and locate Tunabunny in Brighton, the phone decides this ain’t gonna happen so after some frantic emailing, googling transatlantic codes and finding a landline the bunnies are located….round and round in my brain goes ‘bunnies on the streets of Brighton’ to the tune of hang the dj….oh dear…i’ve not even left home yet and already my brain is foggy.