I can see that I’ve got a bit of catching up to do. The WXPN radio show passed off without a hitch, with 4 songs and an interview with Green dispatched in an efficient and workmanlike fashion. I’ve no idea when the thing might be broadcast, but I’m sure it will be, otherwise what was the point?

Then to the North Star Bar in the seedier part of Philly. I’ve been joking about the “hollow eyed characters roaming like zombies” which supposedly roam that part of town, and then imomus goes and comments on my last post to point out that when he was there in 2002, a friend got mugged right outside. Fortunately no such horrors happened to us, although when we did arrive there were helicopters whirring overhead, searchlights beaming down, sirens wailing and a frantic camera crew from Eyewitness News whizzing around in a van trying to find out what on earth was going on. Anyway, the usual – load in, soundcheck and play a show in front of a fairly unpleasant brown backdrop to some very enthusiastic people. Crawl into bunk and fall asleep.

I wake up hot, sweaty and slightly hung over, feel my way into the back of the bus, look out of the window, and discover that we’re in the centre of New York’s Chinatown. This is part of the problem with touring; when you come to a city like New York, you want to experience the drive into town, seeing the city skyline from a distance, watching the neighbourhoods change their character before arriving full of anticipation at the venue. On a sleeper bus, you’re just pushed out onto the street, often still in your underwear, and are told to start loading in the gear. Fortunately we had a few hours to kill yesterday, so I had a gigantic sandwich at Katz deli on E Houston, then walked northwards with Dicky, up Bowery, onto Broadway, to the foot of the Empire State Building:

We marvelled at the length of the queue to ascend aforementioned building, and then went to Macy’s, where I failed to find an Ice-O-Mat ice crusher for Jenny. If anyone knows where I can find such a thing in the colour white, it would be much appreciated. The pursuit of this item has become something of a saga, which I haven’t bothered writing about here, as I don’t want to drag you into my own personal hell, well, not too much, anyway.

We soundchecked, once again.

And then played a stunningly good gig to not-far-off-a packed house. The pinnacle of the tour so far, excepting the Brian Wilson thing which is obviously in a league of its own. Afterwards there was much shaking of hands and much drinking of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale; I was even complimented on my singing by someone whose opinion didn’t seem to be compromised by liquor. And then, to crown the evening, I was asked by a gentleman to sign a record for him, which I humbly agreed to, and then he pulled out a Free French album. “It’s a great record,” he said. I was visibly moved, and may have offered him a place at my Christmas dining table, or my first-born son, or something, I can’t actually remember.

The evening ended fairly messily, with gear strewn everywhere. Thank god for Andy Houston, our long-suffering engineer and troubleshooter, who I THINK has got everything ready for an instore gig at Sound Fix in Williamsburg in about 5 hours. I think I should probably go and brush my teeth. Eeeuugh.