Johnny Foreigner kept a diary for Drowned in Sound. Here’s a day picked at random.
Glasgow, King Tutâ€™s. We play Frisbee and listen to Joan of Arc really loud in the car park as the sun sets. Fucking hippies. The venue cooks us (the lowly Â£50 show support act) a three-course meal. ARE YOU READING THIS BARFLY? Tho these shows are a league above what weâ€™re used to and the audiences are always super receptive, it seems like a lame show after Birmingham. I remember being 18 and reading an interview with James Dean Bradfield where heâ€™d just played to, like, 100,000 people and he couldn’t get into it and thinking, you twat. Tonight I feel like James Dean Bradfield. We stay on the top-floor flat of a complete stranger in Stirling who, on arranging us in her bedroom and cooking us well impressive fajitas, disappears. She plays us a mix CD that is amaze, made by her boyfriend who is in some band we totally forget the name of the next day. Bizarre but undeniably generous. Thanks Tamy!
And here’s a video of them playing in Manchester: