The 2009 UK April Tour in 3 Riveting Chapters:
One man's mission to see Numan's three shows in April 2009
Chapter 1
Wolverhampton
Should I bother to unpack? With only a month since I'd returned from Gary's Australian performances, I'd be away from home for another two weeks plus. My house was becoming less a place to live, and more of a glorified storage rental! But I knew it would be worth it.
Gary had planned the most concerts in 2009 since 1983. This was Gary's year. Numan would perform in Australia for the first time in 29 years, play Eastern Europe for the first time, throw down awesome DJ sets all over Europe and celebrate The Pleasure Principle. I wanted to miss out as least as possible.
I found a good deal on a flight from Syracuse to London on US Airways, booked hotels, updated the NAGNFC almost daily and waited for April 22 to fly. Steve in Manchester wrote to ask what my plans were, and offered his place again. Smiley and his wife Helene offered their home in Hastings. Paul in Cadnam, who spent a day showing me around Cambridge during the Replicas Tour, said he would try and make a show, perhaps meeting up for lunch at some point.
I had planned to take the train again. The Britrail pass is always a great deal. However, this time something clicked in my brain. It was advice from Steve that National Express offered amazing Funfare deals on their coaches. I looked at their website and my jaw dropped to the floor. Five hour rides from London to Manchester and back were offered for 2 pounds. It had to be a mistake! But it was real. Suddenly, the travel budget had lots more breathing room.
I had every intention of making this a rapid-fire trip, just flying to the UK for the shows then rushing back to the USA. But it was about then that I discovered that Devo were to perform in London on May 6. It wasn't even a question, I would stay in England for another 12 days to see the Spudboys perform a one-off concert showcasing all the songs from their first LP which charted at UK #12.
I had found a great place to stay in London near the O2 Arena where Michael Jackson was to perform 50 dates starting in July. I would have to try and get a ticket when they go on sale. But just before I left, I found a great place in Hendon right near the Underground Tube stop. I reserved the nights I'd be in town, then updated the NAGNFC for May early, as I wouldn't be home to do it May 1.
The day arrived and I checked my list for everything I'd need for the trip overseas. By now it was a stress-free and familiar ritual. My folks kindly drove me to the Syracuse airport. I hadn't been here since 1990 when we saw my brother off to the Navy. That was so long ago, everyone was allowed past security to the gates. So alien a concept now. I remembered the airport being much bigger, or maybe it just seemed cavernous because of the almost complete absence of humanity. The recession was in full swing and this was the proof.
On the upside, this meant the large Syracuse International Airport featured zero lines for check-in, etc. I'd left Ithaca early in preparation for the queues. But as it was, the airline check-in lady said I could even leave a half-hour earlier on an earlier flight if I wanted. My connection through Philadelphia to London was a little tight, so I thanked her and accepted the offer.
My folks and I had some time to eat at Sbarro's in the airport. We were the only people in the restaurant as we spoke about the amazing deals I scored on the coaches in the UK. As our time drew to a close, I heartily waved them goodbye and threw my bags through the security conveyor.
I arrived at the gate just as the flight was announced to board. It was a twin prop to Philly. I wasn't looking forward to dealing with the Philadephia Airport. It had been seven years since I'd been there, and remembered it as a congested, confusing bastion of construction and ugliness.
I read an Ithaca newspaper, stared at the passing landscapes when the clouds allowed, and before long we touched down. We arrived at C Terminal but the flight to London left from the A Terminal. Having taken the earlier flight, I now had some time to kill. I'd already eaten so I leisurely explored.
What I remembered as an ugly airport in 2002 was now transformed into a world-class facility with every amenity. The dank boarded up halls of 2002 were replaced by a huge shopping mall that extended the miles-long walk between the terminals. There were shops and food courts of all types.
When I made my way back to C Terminal to catch a shuttle to A Terminal, I'd finally figured out why I couldn't find a shuttle between terminals in 2002 when I left the building to catch one. In Philadelphia, all the shuttles are actually driven on the airport tarmac. It was a long but interesting ride as we passed all the workings and workers of one of America's largest airports.
At A Terminal, I phoned home as the folks just arrived back to Ithaca, and I used the airport wi-fi to check email. This terminal was totally transformed as well. Massive pieces of moving, mechanical art installations held my interest as I walked past. It was busier than Syracuse, but still a far cry from the bustle of Heathrow.
Once on board the international flight, I began to instantly notice the effects of the recession and how airlines have scaled back. This was the smallest plane I'd ever crossed an ocean in. There were only six seats across, three for each window. Amazingly, there were no seatback entertainment systems, so no movies. There was a monitor that hung from the ceiling, and for $5, one could purchase headphones to watch the new Adam Sandler movie "Bedtime Stories". Most passengers opted instead to sleep.
I always bring my own headphones, and the movie wasn't bad. I'd also brought a PSP with movies that stood on the tray table perfectly. But this plane had to be older than me!
A long nap made the flight fly by as we flew by. For the first time, I devoted precious carry-on space to a small cushy pillow adorned with polar bears. Besides my passport, it was the best thing I could've brought.
Overall, the ride was smooth and the food was good, as airline food goes. Compared to flying to Australia, this felt like crossing the street now. I opened the window at 6 am and watched the farm fields of Britain scroll past.
At Gatwick, we walked to customs. The queue was quite long and there was construction everywhere. The scene looked like a dank basement with pipes running in a low ceiling over our long snaking queue. As I stood with people from all over the world, I made some friends as we talked about our vacation plans.
The UK Customs woman was friendly and there were no issues. I had to hightail it to the coach from Gatwick to London Victoria so I could grab the coach to Birmingham. Customs took longer than I planned and I was running late. At the Lower Forecourt, my coach had indeed left by 8:20 am, right on time. With my Birmingham coach leaving at 10:00 am, and with me very far from London, my options were few and expensive.
I asked the lady at the coach desk when the next coach to London was, but it wouldn't be in time to make my connection. So I walked toward the trains to score a last minute Gatwick Express, which are pricey but are quick and run every 15 minutes.
Before I queued up for the train ticket, I would need some British cash. I found a NatWest ATM and started to insert my card. Someone behind me shouted "DON'T DO IT! YOU'LL LOSE IT" This poor guy had just lost his card in the ATM and was on his cell trying to get it back. I used the one next to his successfully and wished him the best.
This was morning rush hour in Britain's biggest city, so the train was packed. Despite the reports, it was good to see things in the UK were still thriving, with all these employed people commuting to London to drive the main engine of Britain's economy.
It was great to be on British soil again as I got off the train in Victoria Station to walk to the nearby coach station for my 1 pound ride to Birmingham. I bought some snackies for the 5 hour ride, and made sure to grab the front seat for the best view.
The driver placed my duffel inside the luggage compartment, and I brought my backpack, and all-valuable pillow with me. Once underway and driving though London, the cockney driver informed everyone of the safety procedures and the new rules involving the use of seat belts by the riders. I'd never before seen seat belts on a coach, but I wasn't here to make enemies. I strapped in and got comfy.
It was a long ride, but we did stop for 45 minutes at a rest stop to eat lunch and stretch the legs. Good thing I got back on the coach when I did, as it left almost 5 minutes early!
The Digbeth Coach Station in Birmingham was under renovations and now was housed in temporary digs. Once there, it was a little tricky to find my nearby hotel. Another guy wheeling his luggage walked the other way, and asked me where the new Digbeth was. Soon though, I found my hotel. The location couldn't be better. The neighborhood was quiet and only 3 blocks from Birmingham's main coach station.
I was an hour early and couldn't yet be checked in. Luckily there was a lot to do in the lobby. There was Playstation 3, Xbox 360, tons of books and the internet. I caught up on email while I waited for 2 pm. The room was spotless and quiet as I got ready for Gary Numan's first UK show of 2009!
Last time, I took the Metro to Wolverhampton, but with the coach station so close, I opted to use that method instead. It was a long distance coach, but dropped me off in downtown Wolverhampton. Unlike last year's Replicas Tour, I now knew which way it was to the Wulfrun Hall.
I didn't know the occasion, but there was a lot of partying going on in the pubs. A footie game perhaps? There was a lot of traffic too, but it wasn't going anywhere. I walked past scores of cars as they idled on the streets next to me.
There were about 10 people already in the queue, but I didn't fret. I did quite well for just having arrived in Britain this morning. No one said hello this time so I held a large teddy bear and card given to me from a fan in Australia to give to Gary, as I watched cars speeding down this side street to escape the heavier traffic on the main thoroughfares.
Later, Wolverhampton resident Wendy and Jeanette said hello, and I spoke with some fans of the NAGNFC who appeared behind me in the queue. One guy's name was Tim. He'd brought his son and daughter, both about 12 years old. This was their first concert. They and Tim were enthusiastically anticipating seeing Numan tonight.
Gordon, Wingman and their friends walked up to say hello. I'd seen them at the ten Replicas shows last year. Although they had nothing to distribute to the fans this time.
As we all rapped, I hadn't noticed how long the queue was becoming. It was more than impressive! The doors opened and we streamed inside past the merch table to score our places by the stage. No one knew quite what to expect. The Dead Son Rising release was imminent then. All we knew was that we were up for a great show tonight, and had little doubt our man Gary would deliver!
I saw Ed Fielding, Gary's photographer for his last photo shoot, setting up in front of the barrier. It was cool to chat with him after all the emails! He brought some other Numan shots to show me that he'd taken. They were inspired as they were jaw-dropping. Alas they were rejected and will never see the light of day. Ed was friendly and personable, and it was a pleasure meeting him at the shows.
Ed was wearing the new tour shirt. Having streamed past the merch table, I hadn't yet seen it. All the summer's dates were listed. There was an additional date at the Hevy Music Festival I'd never heard of. The cool shirt was designed by Kristin Harris of Texas.
The lights came down. I was looking forward to Dirty Harry. They were classic Los Angeles rocking and raw. They went down well with the Numan crowd, a nearly impossible feat! I found myself looking forward to their performance over the next two nights.
As their gear was removed to reveal Gary's equipment, shouts of NUUUMAN filled the hall. Smoke bellowed from the sides as the music of The Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim echoed through the venue.
The lights came down and a mix of music from The Unborn soundtrack and more recent music reverbed as the intro to what was to come. The band came out to deafening applause, then Gary Numan.
I could scarcely believe what I was witnessing. It is no stretch to say that I was in total awe. From the first note, Gary seemed in nothing less than top form. The music was jumpier, the light flickered more in time and the entire band was tight. It was the same but different, I was thinking, "THIS IS NUMAN 2.O"!!
I was already floored by the show when Gary started to play some of my favourites. Fold, I Dream Of Wires and I, Assassin flowed into me as I snapped a hundred pictures.
There were no Dead Son Rising tracks, but after this amazing concert, I had no room to complain.
I waited my turn at the merch table to purchase the cool new shirt, a Replicas DVD for a friend back home and a Replicas Tour CD. After all the tours, the guys at the merch table know me quite well by now!!
Dirty Harry were all there by their own merch table to say hello to everyone. I signed their mailing list and told the attractive lead singer I'd also lived in Los Angeles at one time. One fan got a picture of her and me and I walked out with Chris and Tina who I'd met in the crowd. They'd had me over as a guest on a few Numan tours, but they were preparing to move to Ireland these days. After reminiscing about the bangers and mash Tina made for me one evening, Chris told me how impressed he was that I could remember things in such detail. I told them it was both a blessing and a curse. It's a good skill for writing Riveting Chapters, though.
Gordon and his friends saw me outside by the bootleg shirts on the sidewalk. They invited me to go with them for a late snack, but I opted to stick around and meet Gary. In the dark, lonely walk around the side of the building to the back, I saw Jeanette. I shouted, "Hey, it's England's biggest Numanoid!"
There were quite a few people waiting in the back by Numan's tour bus. I saw Tim and his kids again. They all enjoyed the show immensely, and I was happy for the kids their concert-watching career kicked off with such a great show. The son already had his arm signed by the band of Dirty Harry and left room for Gary and his band. The daughter had brought an LP of Jagged to get signed.
As we spoke, we all became really good friends. Dirty Harry was so impressed with the kids, they received VIP tickets to the show in Liverpool, so I was sure to see them tomorrow as well.
After a couple hours, Gary Numan walked to the entrance of the tour bus to speak with everyone. Tim and company were ahead of me. I promised to take a picture of them with Gary since their camera was on the fritz. In return, the daughter took a pic of us and the Australian teddy bear.
When it was my turn, I praised Gary for the truly amazing experience he gave us this evening. I told him that if I stayed home, and learned he did that set list, I would be truly despondent! He seemed pleased and surprised saying, "Really?" But later I found out that he was actually quite happy with the performance as well.
I gave him the teddy bear and card saying, "This was given to me by a huge fan in Australia. She said she doesn't care if the bear gets slobbered on by the kids, just as long as the kids get some use from it." Gary took it inside to find a place for it, then came out to speak with the remaining crowd.
Tim offered a ride, but I had a couple hours to kill before my bus left. I thanked him and walked toward the strip of all-night pizza and chicken eateries I'd discovered on the Replicas Tour. The pizza place run by those friendly Turkish guys was gone. There was a lot of competition here, and prices were cheap.
I found another place and found a deal for pepperoni pizza and two Pepsis for four pounds. This was my first proper meal in 8,000 miles. As that thought hit me, I became pretty tired. But I'd played it smarter this time. On the Replicas Tour, I tooled around all night until 4:45 am when the first train left for Birmingham 15 miles away. This time, I took a 1:15 am bus back to Birmingham and my hotel.
The Wolverhampton Pipers Row coach station was quiet and unpopulated except for a couple guys tidying up the place. They must get a number of vagrants round here. They asked to see my ticket, after which they let me inside the small, locked empty station to wait for my ride, but not before they kicked an old guy off the premises on the way.
The only other passenger appeared at the station for the same bus, but he was riding it all the way back to London Gatwick. As we got on and sped off through all the roundabouts on the quiet streets, I fell asleep, only waking when the bus was stopped back at Digbeth at 2:00 am.
I thanked the driver and walked halfway back on quiet streets to the hotel. It was then I'd fully woken up and discovered how empty my arms were. My Numan T-shirt was on the bus! I walked back expecting it to be on its way to Gatwick. Luckily, the bus was still there. The driver was different but I told him I'd left something aboard. He asked if it was a shirt and I thanked him profusely as he handed over my souvenir of this most special evening.
Check-out was 10 am, so there was ample time for sleepage, and I could always snooze on the ride to Liverpool tomorrow. After the spectacular show Numan gave us tonight, I fell asleep fully entertained and looking quite forward to the other shows this week. Little did I know I would be hanging with Numan's band in downtown Liverpool tomorrow.
