Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Michael Kasparis / Please / Apostille

Name: Michael Kasparis

Where: Porto, Portugal.

ED: Michael was the first person to email me expressing an interest in writing for WPE without being prompted or contacted by myself first (I fired a few Facebook PMs over to band d00dz I knew Sunday night to get the ball rolling obviously).

Europe is far superior to the UK when it comes to touring. The amount of shitty promoters I've encountered on this island outweigh the good ones, but they're kind of boring shitty. Either they're obnoxious, arrogant, full of coke/beer or just crap. What happened in Porto on the 2010 Please / Beards Euro tour was quite different.

We arrived at this anarchist squat that doubled as the city's unofficial community centre and the email replies from the 'promoter' were sporadic and vague.

On arrival at the massive, decrepit mansion we were greeted with indifference by a man with a very sick, constantly shivering mongrel hanging out of his backpack.

I say 'greeted', in reality he didn't know who we were or why we were there.

When we explained we'd 'booked' a show there. He replied: "OK, you can play if you want but you cannot charge."

The gig room was massive and had a top of the range PA, inexplicably.

Guiding us to the place we were to sleep we passed what I'm sure was a dead body on a soggy brown mattress. The room he took us to, on the top floor of this once-grand house, was littered with broken toys, rodent excrement and rubble strewn across the floor from a child-sized hole in the wall leading to the outside.

We set up and played to about 8 people using the pass-the-hat method. We made about 7 euros I think. 

Completely demoralised, we went to the labyrinthine kitchen in the basement to find about 40 people eating. 32 people couldn't be bothered to climb two flights of stairs to a free gig.

After some forgettable tour-slop and staring in despair at the dying dog, I decided with my co-guitarist Rowland that we were going to find a hotel for the night. The others camped in the gig room in their sleeping bags.

That night we spent 30 euros on a hotel room and I spent a further 4 euros sending a picture message of Rowland and the sparkling bidet in the hotel room toilet. To this day it's the best 34 euros I've ever spent.

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