The 2009 UK Pleasure Principle Tour in 6 Riveting Chapters:
One man's mission to see Numan's Pleasure Principle shows in November and December 2009
Chapter 2
Norwich
I dreamed of my high school sweetheart early that Sunderland morning. We were too young to drive so we walked around our hometown of Ithaca for miles on foot exploring everything. Now 5000 miles away she was still here by my side with all her waving and smiles. Her voice unheard for 25 years, the now antique timbre of it cached in my memory so I'm not so alone when I sleep. The last I knew, she just married a human.
But inevitably, my alarm sounded at 8:00 am. It was crazy early, but the early wakening was required by the convoluted method required by the UK transport system to get from Sunderland to Norwich.
I was going to catch a quick bath here at Don's house, but calculated I'd need the time to pack up all my stuff and dress for the day. My hotel in Norwich was booked and I'd just get ready for the show there instead.
Once packed, I met up with Don's sister in the living room, soon followed by Don. I told him I'd be fine as the metro station was just nearby. Even though it was a rainy morning, and we'd kept each other up talking about all things Numan until 2:00 am, he insisted on coming along to make sure I made it out okay.
The short walk to the metro train station on this Monday morning was grey and wet, but we kept it live with further sparkling conversation about Gary. The station was just a simple metro stop with a shelter and machine to purchase tickets. This train line was only one of a handful of journeys not covered by the Britrail pass. I was surprised when Don said he'd never been to this metro stop so close to where he lived. He was helpful as he advised what type of ticket to get to Newcastle, and what the Newcastle train station was like.
It wasn't long at all before my train arrived. I thanked Don for all of his help and waved goodbye as the doors closed. The terrain we passed was as varied as the types of people on this short trip to Newcastle. Students and seniors was aboard as we rolled through verdant farmland and little villages to the place Andy Taylor of Duran Duran was from.
Once in Newcastle I found my way to the train platforms to get me to Peterborough. This was a beautiful station, but on this chilly morning I was looking forward to hopping aboard my steel-wheeled chariot southward. En route to my own platform I found an Upper Crust for a heated sandwich. For some reason, I became extremely fond of their melty ham and mozzarella sandwiches on this trip.
People started to gather on the platform, and I was very surprised that even the elderly among these people didn't seem at all affected by the cold. These were some hardy northerners!
I walked aboard behind a family and little girl and found a table across from an older couple. I kept reading all those magazines I'd brought with me. Four down, 56 to go. I made fast friends with the couple as I gave them some of my magazines to read. It was a long way but it was an enjoyable trip, engulfed as I was in my reading and filming out the window.
Once in Peterborough, I had 20 minutes to kill on a nondescript platform so I spent time walking up the ramp to the opposite side for no reason than to ascertain I was on the wrong side. The schedule boards weren't the clearest and other travelers seemed as perplexed. Before long we all figured it out. I spent more time filming the environs such as trains, British flags and billboards.
The next train was a short jaunt to Ely which would take me to right to Norwich. Against my better judgment I made a last-minute call to catch an earlier train which arrived in Norwich 15 minutes later, but meant I wouldn't have to make another connection. The main mission was to get to Norwich and the show queue as soon as possible, especially as I still had to get spiffed up, but convenience won out this afternoon.
I hopped aboard the train to Ely along with tons of people followed by some kids with their bikes. There were no visible seats left, but this trip to Ely would be super quick. As many of us stood by the doors, the kids with their dirt bikes laughed about their adventures in bike racing and shared tips on tricking out their rides. However the Pakistani train conductor told them off for bringing so many bikes aboard as they were blocking the doors in the event of an emergency. But the conductor told us there were tons of empty seats nearby for the taking.
He soon returned with a surprised expression everyone was still standing instead of grabbing a seat. He looked at us and muttered how the British love to stand by doors, as if I was British. But I too am a train conductor/driver, albeit on freight trains. The big difference is that the only people I speak with are the other crew member in the engine, and the train dispatcher hundreds of miles away as we pull millions of dollars in freight and equipment through the sleepy towns often at three in the morning.
Once in Ely, I would only have 4 minutes to hop the train to Norwich. Sure enough, my connection waited for me as I hopped aboard to find a seat. There were open seats among the din of humanity, but it was the one table by itself next to the loo that endeared itself to me. Luckily, its inhabitant got off at the next stop and I settled in to ride VIP style in my own loo car as I read the newspaper and met people who had too many liquids to drink that morning.
The train arrived in Norwich right on time at 3:15 pm. But time was of the essence. The doors opened at 7:00 pm which meant I wanted to be there in the queue by at least 5:00 pm. It would be tricky as the show was at the University four miles out of town.
Luckily, my Premiere Inn hotel was just across the river from the train station. I walked briskly toward it, marveling how nice the place looked. The two ladies greeted me and checked me in quickly. I must have looked as if I was in a rush. They checked my reservation and looked very surprised. They congratulated me on scoring such a great rate of £29 ($60). The night here had already seemed like a first rate splurge to me and I asked them how much this joint usually cost? One of them pointed to their posted rate on the wall which read £78 ($160). I giggled and thanked myself for my internet booking skills.
After hurriedly declining their suggestive selling of breakfast and added amenities, I was handed my key and rushed to my room. By now I was very used to smallish rooms in the UK, at bed and breakfasts, and even all the Thistle Hotels in London. But this time I opened the door to a virtual suite. I couldn't believe how big the room was! There were entire sections of the space I wouldn't even use. No time for looking around though. Gary Numan was in town tonight and it was already nearly 4:00 pm!
I quickly tore apart my wheeled duffel bag to procure all that I'd need for tonight's Pleasure Principle show, and stripped to shower and get ready. But the bathroom was too weird. The fair-sized loo could hold a dozen people, but boasted of no tub, or even a shower except for a nozzle and a floor drain. In all my travels I'd never seen anything like it! I turned on my PSP I'd loaded up with American radio shock jocks and became clean.
I wanted to charge my cell phone and PSP while I was away but my usual travel adaptor, though the right size, wouldn't penetrate these AC outlets. I'd have to figure it out when I returned as time was of the essence! This was not a drill. It was time to look down and say, "Feets don't fail me now!"
I stole away past the hotel front desk with their shouts of "have a great concert" into the Norwichian evening. The added benefit of the nearby train station was the included taxi rank of idling chariots and bored drivers. I picked the one in front and told him of my plans, after which we rolled away toward the University. This driver was a rare breed. He was a quiet sort, which left me to concentrate better on my padlocks and zippers. Maybe that was why?
It was already just after 5:00 pm and was already dark as he stopped at the now familiar venue I'd seen Numan play the Replicas album at last year. I was running late and was ready to take my place in the queue. To my relieved surprise, there was no queue! Not even Jeanette was there yet, and she always stays across the street from that venue! I felt like the luckiest person alive at that moment.
It was mere seconds before Jono from Australia showed up. This was the first time I'd seen him since the Melbourne show last year. He was dressed in the same cool outfit as then as he shook my hand and told me Jane was around the corner grabbing them some food from a nearby shop. Before long Jeanette appeared from the night. The act of showing up at a Numan queue before her was a rare event indeed, and I enjoyed the rare status.
Jane appeared from around the corner bearing food for her and Jono. She greeted me enthusiastically and told me of their trip so far. Though skipping certain shows like last night's event in Sunderland, they eventually scored the same number of shows I did for Replicas last year. They would do a total of 10 shows this time. They said they were inspired by these very NAGNFC Riveting Chapters to make the trek. Jane and Jono even had business cards printed up for their own excellent Gary Numan Down Under website where they are now writing their own Riveting Chapters from these shows. The business cards even stated "Serving Numanoids in Australia and around the world", inspired by the NAGNFC tagline "Serving Numanoids since 1989". If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I was feeling ultra flattered that night in the Norwich queue.
Pete, Jim "The Machman" Napier, Jane Hodgkinson
Photo by Jono Downunder
Kindly shared publicly by Jono and Jane
They spoke with their friends and I stared through the doors for anyone I recognised, and otherwise just stood there soaking in the experience of being surrounded by Numanoids in real life instead of the friendly, but virtual ones on Facebook.
Pete, Jim "The Machman" Napier, Jono Downunder
Photo by Jane Hodgkinson
Kindly shared publicly by Jane and Jono
Occasionally, I would peek around the corner down the queue to see how large it had become, disappearing at times to hand out NAGNFC business cards to the waiting masses of Numan fans. One apparently thought I was with the crew. It happens sometimes due to my fashion. At any rate, I was able to field his questions about the Warriors era.
I took my place at the front once more, with friends but alone, cracking the odd joke to fit in. Soon, The Big G came outside to have a smoke. No one spoke with him, so I approached the man I'd seen around the world at 70 other Numan shows for a rare chat.
As many times as I'd met Big G, our conversation was always limited to short pleasantries. He always looked busy anyway. Tonight we would speak more than at any other time in my Numan concert going career. I only knew Big G as Gary's security guy and roadie, but as we spoke, I discovered that he had led a truly fascinating life.
I'd heard from Don in Sunderland that Big G had worked with Wet Wet Wet, but Big G revealed he'd also worked with bands such as Queen. He must have had a million stories to tell if we had the evening. I was already fascinated, but then he told me he'd worked with the 1988 Michael Jackson Bad Tour on its UK leg. He'd even met Michael, calling him a "bloody, strange bloke". Big G was professional and couldn't get into all the juicy stories for this webmaster, so I turned the conversation to Numan. I asked him what the craziest night at a Numan show was. He told me about a night on the Skin Mechanic Tour when fans took turns storming the stage from either side, with Big G constantly running to either side of the stage booting them back. He also spoke of the Exile show in Los Angeles when what were described as Numanazis (by other fans) stormed in a bunch toward the front and didn't make the night easy for some.
I told him about the craziest night I'd ever seen at a Numan show. The Toronto Exile show was turning into a moshfest in the front, and I watched Big G wrestle this one guy who tried to climb onto the stage. He remembered that night, as well as another I mentioned when someone threw a lit ball of smoke onto the stage during the Pure Tour in Michigan. To my surprise, he recalled that night with vivid detail as he spoke about rushing onto the smoky stage to rid Numan and the band of that smoke bomb.
I'd always sort of envied fans like Don in Sunderland and Jenne in California who had that kind of rapport with the guy, and it was so cool that after knowing him 12 years, I got to know him just as well. He's more fascinating than I ever imagined.
Soon after Big G finished his smoke and went back inside, the doors opened to let the Numanoids stream inside to secure their place for the big event. Jeanette and I spoke for awhile, and once again the show started right on time. The singer of opening band, Dirty Harry, wowed the crowd once more. The lovely trend of her jumping off the stage to sing part of her set was becoming a trend on the tour. Like Numan, she knew by now she could trust standing near me as I wouldn't try and pull her into the crowd, etc.
Jeanette Hicks, Jim "The Machman" Napier, Jono Downunder
Photo by Jane Hodgkinson
Kindly shared publicly by Jane and Jono
The smoke from Dirty Harry cleared as everyone's anticipation grew. It wasn't long before the lights turned off to stark red light and the beginnings of the song Random. I remembered the student crowd here in Norwich didn't disappoint last year. They would be just as enthusiastic for Numan this time.
Photo by Jim "The Machman" Napier
I still couldn't get over the fact Gary was playing one of my Top 3 albums in its entirety just in front of me. I took plenty of photos as Gary sung the music that put him in new wave's history books, music that would inspire Trent Reznor to pick up a synthesizer 10 years later.
Photo by Jim "The Machman" Napier
This was the first night I would see the large overhead video in action. Last night in Sunderland, there wasn't quite enough space for much else but the side LED boards.
Photo by Jim "The Machman" Napier
It may have been divine intervention, or from less divine sources, but Gary was switched on tonight. The singing, the live synths, the drums, guitars, bass and DAT played off each other with nuances emblazoned and subtle, and the crowd couldn't get enough. Just incredible.
Photo by Jim "The Machman" Napier
Even though this tour featured the longest sets of any of Numan's career since Warriors with 22 songs, other fans I spoke with agreed the evening zipped right by. All too soon, the lights came on. As I walked toward the exit, a few fans thanked me for the website and told me to keep it going. I identified a bit with a line from one of Numan's interviews about how weird it can seem when strangers know all about you. But still, the comments from the fans are the very fuel that keep me at it.
Some fans asked me if Numan was going to sign autographs. Judging from the tour's history, I didn't think it was very likely. Because of a number of factors, including flu and historically bad weather in the UK, Gary played it cautious, especially as he wanted to be in top form for the filming of his live DVD in London. Just to be sure, I later asked Big G who told me he highly doubted the possibility.
At the same time I realised I was starving, I saw a burger and chippy truck strategically placed outside the doors doing a brisk Numanoid business. In the queue for my snack, a couple of people were handing out homemade Numan posters in return for an optional donation for a cure for Aspergers. Well worth a pound. Still in the burger queue, I got talking with some fans behind me who was impressed I'd come so far. I gave them NAGNFC business cards.
The burger stand was reasonably priced. A double burger and two drinks were 4 quid. Even less for me. I struggled with the unfamiliar coinage and the busy burger guy just took what I'd given him saying "it's okay". Works for me!
I found a quiet corner to watch all the Numanoids speaking with each other, eternally optimistic that Gary was coming out to speak with them. I got a huge bite of burger in my cheeks when suddenly a Numanoid couple came up to tell me how much they enjoyed the NAGNFC website. I overdid it on the ketchup and got a spot on the Numan poster, easily washable but still.
Jane from Australia walked past on her way for a bite and we spoke briefly. I coaxed myself into social mode and walked toward the large number of fans waiting by the bus as the roadies were loading up the gear for the show tomorrow in Wolverhampton. I still wasn't sure if I would be walking the three miles through unfamiliar territory back into town. I'd totally forgotten the Google walking map I had made for the real possibility of pounding feet back to the hotel.
The main mistake last year was waiting the two hours after the show at which point there were no more taxis stopping by. And the bus didn't run into town Sunday nights, which tonight also was. As that thought hit me, I peered around Numan's tour bus to see two taxis just sitting there. Without saying goodbye I stole away stealthily in a taxi van for my hotel.
The taxi driver was the opposite of the quiet specimen who drove me here. I've had some taxi drivers in the UK who seemed interested in America when they heard my accent. But this guy was genuine. He was excited to hear I was from New York. The older cabbie kept me laughing the entire way with stories about his wild nights in New York. The very hat he wore was given to him by another cabbie there. Once at my hotel downtown, I saw the fare was 10 but he knocked half off the price for me. I made sure to tip him well, if only for the amazing stories of his time in New York.
The entrance to the hotel was locked, protected by a keyswipe. I swiped my hotel key a few times but to no avail. Finally the guys at the front desk noticed and clicked open the door remotely. They said that sometimes the guests of this £78 ($160) hotel had to work at it. Hmmm.
I opened the door to my large room which seemed extra large, even stark and corporate right now. It was only 10:00 pm and I promptly left to ask the front desk if any take out was available nearby. They mentioned a couple of pizza places. I ended up at the exact little pizza shop I was at after the three-mile walk into town last year on the Replicas Tour. Reasonably priced pizza a block from the hotel were just the ticket right now. While my pizza was being created, I wandered further into town. It was pretty quiet except for a couple of pubs doing a medium business.
Back at the hotel, I settled in with some good pizza and watched the funny movie Bride of Chucky, which I just hadn't gotten around to viewing until now.
Still wide awake, I remembered a computer available in the lobby to surf the web dirt cheap. I spent some time emailing family and friends on Facebook. I left some time on my internet card for the next morning. Actually it seemed the time on the card never ticked town. Woohoo! Let's hear it for buggy software that causes things to be free!
I took some video of the room and the hotel. I felt like Numan, who also captured his round-the-world trip on video, with much of his footage of clouds. I finally fell asleep at 3 in the morning in the comforting thought that tomorrow was going to be an easy and fun day. Wolverhampton was a short train trip away, and Teresa had generously written to offer her hospitality. Plus I would again see Belinda who'd traveled from Australia to see a couple of shows. She also offered to drive me to the next show in Cambridge in her rental. And the Wolverhampton crowd is well known for enthusiastically doing Numan proud at his shows. I set the alarm for 8:45 am in the knowledge tomorrow would be a good day.