20th of January 2004

Inspiration is hard to come by.

Inspiration is hard to come by when you've just played your worst gig in living memory.

The highs in this world of music are so high and the lows are very low and make you feel like shit. But let me backtrack a little.....

The last night in LA was great - we played a great gig at Temple Bar, partied late and woke up early leaving LA at a viscious 5.30am. The plane journey to San Francisco was too short to really get any sleep and when we arrived and I had done my mandatory phone interviews I was too excited to sleep. San Francisco, even for just 2hrs (all I had spare) was too new, too exciting, too infused with beat poet history to ignore. Despite being rancidly tired I pounded some pavement and made my way to, among other places the famous City Lights bookstore (bought new Paul Auster book "Oracle Nights"), took a tram ride and generally took in the ambient delights of this very hip city. Suffice to say, I was very tired when we got to the groovy club Cafe Du Nord. Adding to this cocktail of impending disaster was the double bass Geoff had hired to play, which sounded closer to a banjo; Seb, clearly feeling tired too, managed to nod off, sitting at his drums during his soundcheck.

It's not that we played too badly, but it just wasn't really that inspired. The crowd seemed a cross between indifferent and unimpressed but I have since received reports that the gig was well received by the small crowd (although a review in the San Francisco Chronicle was apparently really bad). The impact though was on my personal psyche - a long way from home, questioning my ability to actually make decent music - as I said, the highs are high and the lows are low.

I went straight home that night and slept trying to erase all this from my memory, and once in Seattle the following day, roaming the food markets, it was almost a distant nightmare. The gig that night in the Century Ballroom was a huge success - big crowds cheering and dancing and generally really into the whole vibe. I really felt like we made a mark here. Seattle, with its mountains all hazy in the distance and slight 'Northern Exposure' feel, was kind to us. Nights like this remind you why you are playing music.

Next morning (early again - 6am), I say goodbye to the band who I will meet in 2 days time in freezing Philadelphia. I am off to sunny Miami to do a photo shoot for Vanity Fair magazine with the legendary photographer Bruce Weber. This whole section of my existence was pretty magical - and considering I hate photo shoots this is very suprising. Bruce, is an generous, intelligent and passionate man who takes photos with such intensity it makes me take it very seriously. Normally I make endless, innapropriate gags whilst someone messes with my eyebrows and I am asked to move my chin up and down whilst focussing my gaze on one spot on the wall. This shoot is a different story and I remain in good humour even whilst swimming in the sea in a suit sipping a Martini as Bruce snaps away. His house is an exhibit itself, full of photos and artefacts from around the world and backing onto the beautiful Golden Beach of Miami.

As I sit in my hotel room here in Miami contemplating another early morning flight tomorrow to Philadelphia I am thinking very fondly about today. I mostly dislike the 'promotional' aspect to the music industry. I wish I could just play and write music and that was it, but of course this is not the way it works. But meeting and working with people like Bruce Weber makes me realise that this whole creative process is one big cycle - music, photography, writing etc.

I didn't spend today writing songs but I was inspired by a great man, and a great artist and suddenly that inspiration stuff isn't that hard to come by anymore.

with love from the US

jc

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