Memories, both good and bad (for me)
Thursday 15 December 2011, London, England, UK… you know the rest.
After speaking to *ahem* management the night before and having to shoot off an email to Bauer (roady guy for European tour) while the support act was on stage from the back of the venue before I forgot, me and my co admin (and founder) of Hell Yeah 100 Monkeys finally had our interview with the band… the very next night.
The email stated we had to be at the box office of the venue for 5.00pm…. Naturally, we were early. Bauer was outside handing out M&G passes. We eventually got to talk to him and he told us that the interview was being put back until after the M&G so we would be waiting around for about 30 mins…. he lied. MST afterall.
We were stood outside (did I mention it was December?) with people queueing for their M&G outside the venue door. The door was frosted glass apart from a tiny patch that showed the venue name… guess who could see through and watch the meet and greets? Yup, me. I smoked cigarette after cigarette as the nerves grew and grew. I’d only found out about 4 hours before that I was going to be doing the talking… yeah, thanks E!
Eventually at 6.05pm one of the venue staff told us to come in. He led us through the venue, up some stairs (each step, I felt sicker and sicker) chatting away to us about the band. We didn’t say much for fear of up chucking over his boots. He led us along a corridor which overlooked the stage and asked us to wait while he checked to see if the band were ready for us. *gulp*. They were. Too late to do a mad dash for the hills of a not so sunny Islington.
He leads us to a door and poof, disappears. What the fuck were we supposed to do now? I lifted my hand to knock, but before I could make any contact, the door was pulled open and Lani invited us in. The band were RIGHT FUCKING THERE! *deep breaths, lift foot, walk in* Sounds easy? HA!
I took 2 steps and slid down the world’s lowest step and tumbled into the room. Only me! The guys smiled as I sand out a resounding “hi” in the hopes that they didn’t notice. Ben G did notice something though. My tee which a friend had printed up for me. Blazoned across my tits was the phrase “His name is Jackson NOT Jasper”
“Hey, I like your shirt.” Ben tells me. All I could think was “Thank fuck he didn’t comment on my not so graceful entrance!”
“Thanks. Can you all sign it after for me so I can send to a friend in Australia?” After reassuring me they would, we got down to business. I was sat directly opposite Jackson and Johnson. That Texan bastard had one foot up on his knee so of course, all i could see were that one boot…
Before we got started, Lani introduces us, praising us for being a driving force in helping the band get their European shows sold out. Cue many thanks from the guys, and a short chat about the excellent JibJab vids that E makes (and they LOVE!)
We get started… E’s on camera and I’m managing to speak without getting tongue tied. I still don’t know how the hell I managed it. All is going well, we’re getting great responses to our questions (which we still pride ourself on being interesting and ones they hadn’t been asked before). There was even a point that both E and I have discussed that we saw a light come on behind Johnson’s eyes as he realised that we were actually interested in what they had to say and were asking proper questions.
I was feeling quite proud of myself. Not only was I able to speak in coherent sentences, I was able to make and maintain eye contact with the entire band. I had been told by many that it was nigh on impossible to do this with Jackson in particular… er.. no! Also, I wasn’t on my knees worshipping the boots or even constantly looking at them, which if you know me, was a scary possibility. It was all going so well…. until my phone, which was being used as a dictaphone in case the video screwed up, fucking rang. I could have died. ”Hey big daddy” ringing out for them all to hear. I quickly cancelled the call (from my phone provider) and tried to sink into my chair. Jerad recognised the tune… I would hope he did, and the guys said they thought it was cool.
Interview over. E asked if they would sign the questions and Johnson (or it could have been Jackson) reminded me that I wanted them to sign my shit. Jackson headed over first with a sharpie in his hand and asked “Where do you want me to sign?” Now, hindsight is a wonderful thing. There are so many comebacks I could have spouted to show off my British Sarcastic prowess, but no. I simply took off my hoodie and told him to sign the back. It tickled btw.
So, we have many thanks (from both us and them) and are left to make our way outside to join the immense queue. I now have a SEVERE case of the shakes that was nothing to do with the fact that it was so damn cold. We make our way inside, but then I had to run around like a blue arsed fly finding Bauer who had sorted my friend’s son a photo pass because security weren’t going to let him in with his professional camera! Once that was sorted, showtime. I won’t go into how awesome it was, cause let’s face it, when has a show not been (ignoring Friday night)
All too soon, the show’s over and we’re queuing for the signing. I was going to get them to sign my boots, but decided against it and pulled my passport out. (Hey, it’s expired) and waited. As usual, Jerad was first and he drew me a mini monkey head (score!) and passed it on to Jackson. I move along the line until I reach Johnson who looks up and STARTS A FUCKING CONVERSATION WITH ME!!! I don’t know if he recognised me from the interview or just my shirt, i couldn’t give a shit. Ben Mother Fucking Johson began a conversation with me (It even beat the massage G gave me at the signing the night before, but that’s another story)
All in all„ Thursday that week was a damn good day!