So one day, a woman called Kathy, who lives in a rainforest on the opposite side of the earth to me, goes into her "garden" (i.e. the rainforest). She sees a beautiful flower, she's never seen before. She is amazed by it. She goes back into her house, and her fella, Andy, is watching a video of a crazy guitar player, playing a song called Passionflower. They both like it. When they finish watching it, Kathy googles for the mystery flower she saw. You guessed it. Passiflora Caerulea, aka passionflower.
They happen to believe in fate, and they also happen to run a record label, and they decide this Jon Gomm guy should come do a tour with them in their country. So, I came to Australia.
Wilma got a brand new case for the flight, a bullet proof carbon fibre thing that cost a fortune. And off we went, around the world. Stopping only at Dohar Airport, Qatar, which has a separate queue for women and where I could sell my wife. The only reason I would sell my wife might be if I suddenly realised I was gay, which is illegal in Qatar. Medieval laws are rich with irony.
Australia was amazing. Andy also happened to be my support artist on the tour, as well as driver, and he is amazing. Check him out →
I just never got tired of hearing that man play. Incredible. Night after night.
Australia is an astonishing place. At night you can be hundreds of miles from the nearest town (not possible in Europe) and the stars are THICK, like spilled sugar. The place is lush with forest, edged with glistening oceans, soaring cities. The animals are unbelievable. I got to lie down right in the middle of a snoozing pack of kangaroos, and just chat with them. I got to hold a shining emerald tree frog which Kathy plucked from the window of their house after a skull-denting rainstorm, and peer into its blood-red eyes.
And yet the people are more English than I am. Tea. Biscuits. Tea and biscuits. Cricket. Tea, biscuits and cricket, all at once if you like, like it's NOTHING. The gigs were immense. Brisbane was like playing to a pub in Yorkshire, except with 500 people in it. Sydney was like a British gig, it was electric, it was like I was at home. All these people, here, thousands of miles away from where I come from, but here, for me. It was mind blowing.
And somehow it didn't make sense. I'm hanging off the bottom of the world in this alien landscape, but surrounded by famliarity? Then I met Darrell. Darrell is a Gubbi Gubbi elder. He is a very nice man. He performed a ceremony called a Welcome To Country for me, which is an enormous honour, and means I am an honorary Gubbi Gubbi now, so my land stretches 200 miles down the Pacific Coast, so watch it. Darrell explained a lot to me about the history of his people, of Australia, and of their relationship with white settlers, primarily from my country. This is too painful to go into in this blog, but I learnt a lot and came to understand why this country had made no sense to me, up until now. And now it did.
What a trip. It was a tour of a lifetime, the best thing about it being making lifelong new friends in Kathy and Andy, whom me and Natasha will treasure for ever. ♥
Here's my favourite photos from the trip:
The next stop was Poland. It was organised by the charismatic Michał Szczęsny, who had managed to entice not only me but Poland's biggest rock band Ocean to perform at his little acoustic festival in Poland's oldest town, Kalisz. The gig was amazing. For me, whether a gig is good or not is pretty much down to the audience. A nice venue, good sound - all those things matter, but the audience is key. The audience is the point of the gig, after all. And from this one experience of Polish audiences I can only say they are a perfect blend of the romantic countries (Italy, France - enraptured in the moment, overcome with emotion) and British audiences (drunk). Incidentally it was Maciek's, Ocean's singer, birthday, and somebody bought him a bottle of Jack Daniels which he was determined to share with me. I can't remember anything else of that night.
(if the photo slideshow isn't showing up for you, you can see it here.)
Portugal was next. A whirlwind of gigs in stunning venues and theatres, radio shows and because half of the tour was on the Azores islands, which are halfway out into the Atlantic, FLIGHTS. I think the record was 11 planes in 10 days. And the little planes only go twice a day, so I was frequently playing gigs, then getting up for an 8:30 flight the next morning. Which normally would've driven me crazy, but thankfully our tour manager Miguel Bello treated me like a new born child (basically keeping me fed and making sure I took a nap!)
Miguel loves wine and food, so I was treated to some Portuguese specialities, such as the Francesinha: a sandwich of doom consisting of steak, ham and two kinds of sausage in bread coated with melted cheese, in a beer, whiskey and tomato sauce, served with french fries and a defibrillator. And Miguel's favourite, his local tripas - intestine. Which was like eating a sausage while changing a diaper. Rancid. God, I can taste it now. Urrrgh. We had some downtime too, the highlight of which was hunting down Lisbon's biggest big TV screen in an awesome bar, and watching Portugal's opening game of Euro 2012 (that's soccer, sports fans) against the mighty Germany, surrounded by baying, whooping (and finally weeping) Lisboeta.
Portugal photos:
Time to head back north through Europe now, and we hit Estonia, Finland and Norway. The highlight of this part of the tour was unquestionably the gigs I did with Petteri Sariola, an astonishing guitarist and singer, with an irresistable groove. Just a great musician. He also offers superb sauna opportunities, as I found out at a mysterious cabin in the bear-infested woods. Fins sauna HOT: 90°C. Then, bodies still steaming, we ran through the trees and jumped into the river, clinging to a guide rope to avoid be swept away by the swollen waters, and trying not to think about Jeff Buckley (RIP). An explosion of cold fills every cell of our bodies. And repeat until insane. Amazing fun.
Here's a nice little video of a concert me and Petteri played on a bandstand in the middle of Helsinki →
And here's my photos from the Northern escapade →
Next up, my first ever gigs on the entire American continent, as we set off for Canada. Starting out with a couple of gigs with one of my guitar HEROES, Don Ross, and his good friend (and now mine too!) Jimmy Wahlsteen, was a real treat. I have Don's instructional videos at home, and here I am sharing a stage with the man. Baffling! The gigs were great, Canadians are so nice it's unreal. Their politeness is something to behold. I accidentally jumped a really long queue at an airport, because of an erroneous pillar blocking my view. I stood there for a good few minutes before turning around and seeing the snake of people stretching off into the distance behind me. I spoked to the dude behind me: "Erm, excuse me, is this the queue I'm in, are we in the same queue." "Well, actually, yeah, I didn't want to say anything." Wow. In Leeds I'd have received one warning, then it would start getting violent. :D
The Canadian Guitar Festival was another highlight, hosted by the guitar world's answer to an intellectual Fred Flinstone, Del Vezeau. I saw some incredible performances, not least a magical improvised mind-journey from Michael Manring, whose career includes having been Michael Hedges' go-to bass player. Heading across into Quebec you quickly realise you're entering a different country, a hybrid between North America and 18th century France, and dripping with culture. I hung out with luthier-to-the-stars Michael Greenfield, and played a gig with my good buddy Erik Mongrain in his hometown of Montreal. Finally we scooted a couple of thousand miles across Canada to the sparsely populated Atlantic island of Newfoundland. It feels more like the west coast of Britain (except with whales) than North America. The stark landscape and sharp winds felt very familiar and homely! And the gig was so good, we had to do it twice! Our hosts John and Caroline managed to sell out the show, and then John decided during the interval Hey, what the hell, let's announce we're doing it again tomorrow! And - somehow - we sold it out again. It's hard to imagine word-of-mouth working that fast in a big city.
Canada photos:
(if the photo slideshow isn't showing up for you, you can see it here.)
OK, there's still my trip to play in some churches Italy, my super-massive UK tour with Andy McKee and Preston Reed, my Germany/Austria tour and some quick trips to France and Bosnia to talk about. Towards the end of the year, I was starting to get physically exhausted and it started to affect my mental state, so it'll take a bit of courage to blog this stuff. So we'll see. I'll think about it. :)
Until then, I have to get back to preparing to record the new album, Secrets Nobody Keeps. More about that SOON.
Thanks for reading,
Jon
Comment on this using the facebook box (below) or by using the jongomm.com comment box (below that!)
They happen to believe in fate, and they also happen to run a record label, and they decide this Jon Gomm guy should come do a tour with them in their country. So, I came to Australia.
Wilma got a brand new case for the flight, a bullet proof carbon fibre thing that cost a fortune. And off we went, around the world. Stopping only at Dohar Airport, Qatar, which has a separate queue for women and where I could sell my wife. The only reason I would sell my wife might be if I suddenly realised I was gay, which is illegal in Qatar. Medieval laws are rich with irony.
Australia was amazing. Andy also happened to be my support artist on the tour, as well as driver, and he is amazing. Check him out →
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jU56S9ZH4FU
I just never got tired of hearing that man play. Incredible. Night after night.
Australia is an astonishing place. At night you can be hundreds of miles from the nearest town (not possible in Europe) and the stars are THICK, like spilled sugar. The place is lush with forest, edged with glistening oceans, soaring cities. The animals are unbelievable. I got to lie down right in the middle of a snoozing pack of kangaroos, and just chat with them. I got to hold a shining emerald tree frog which Kathy plucked from the window of their house after a skull-denting rainstorm, and peer into its blood-red eyes.
And yet the people are more English than I am. Tea. Biscuits. Tea and biscuits. Cricket. Tea, biscuits and cricket, all at once if you like, like it's NOTHING. The gigs were immense. Brisbane was like playing to a pub in Yorkshire, except with 500 people in it. Sydney was like a British gig, it was electric, it was like I was at home. All these people, here, thousands of miles away from where I come from, but here, for me. It was mind blowing.
And somehow it didn't make sense. I'm hanging off the bottom of the world in this alien landscape, but surrounded by famliarity? Then I met Darrell. Darrell is a Gubbi Gubbi elder. He is a very nice man. He performed a ceremony called a Welcome To Country for me, which is an enormous honour, and means I am an honorary Gubbi Gubbi now, so my land stretches 200 miles down the Pacific Coast, so watch it. Darrell explained a lot to me about the history of his people, of Australia, and of their relationship with white settlers, primarily from my country. This is too painful to go into in this blog, but I learnt a lot and came to understand why this country had made no sense to me, up until now. And now it did.
What a trip. It was a tour of a lifetime, the best thing about it being making lifelong new friends in Kathy and Andy, whom me and Natasha will treasure for ever. ♥
Here's my favourite photos from the trip:
The next stop was Poland. It was organised by the charismatic Michał Szczęsny, who had managed to entice not only me but Poland's biggest rock band Ocean to perform at his little acoustic festival in Poland's oldest town, Kalisz. The gig was amazing. For me, whether a gig is good or not is pretty much down to the audience. A nice venue, good sound - all those things matter, but the audience is key. The audience is the point of the gig, after all. And from this one experience of Polish audiences I can only say they are a perfect blend of the romantic countries (Italy, France - enraptured in the moment, overcome with emotion) and British audiences (drunk). Incidentally it was Maciek's, Ocean's singer, birthday, and somebody bought him a bottle of Jack Daniels which he was determined to share with me. I can't remember anything else of that night.
(if the photo slideshow isn't showing up for you, you can see it here.)
Portugal was next. A whirlwind of gigs in stunning venues and theatres, radio shows and because half of the tour was on the Azores islands, which are halfway out into the Atlantic, FLIGHTS. I think the record was 11 planes in 10 days. And the little planes only go twice a day, so I was frequently playing gigs, then getting up for an 8:30 flight the next morning. Which normally would've driven me crazy, but thankfully our tour manager Miguel Bello treated me like a new born child (basically keeping me fed and making sure I took a nap!)
Miguel loves wine and food, so I was treated to some Portuguese specialities, such as the Francesinha: a sandwich of doom consisting of steak, ham and two kinds of sausage in bread coated with melted cheese, in a beer, whiskey and tomato sauce, served with french fries and a defibrillator. And Miguel's favourite, his local tripas - intestine. Which was like eating a sausage while changing a diaper. Rancid. God, I can taste it now. Urrrgh. We had some downtime too, the highlight of which was hunting down Lisbon's biggest big TV screen in an awesome bar, and watching Portugal's opening game of Euro 2012 (that's soccer, sports fans) against the mighty Germany, surrounded by baying, whooping (and finally weeping) Lisboeta.
Portugal photos:
Time to head back north through Europe now, and we hit Estonia, Finland and Norway. The highlight of this part of the tour was unquestionably the gigs I did with Petteri Sariola, an astonishing guitarist and singer, with an irresistable groove. Just a great musician. He also offers superb sauna opportunities, as I found out at a mysterious cabin in the bear-infested woods. Fins sauna HOT: 90°C. Then, bodies still steaming, we ran through the trees and jumped into the river, clinging to a guide rope to avoid be swept away by the swollen waters, and trying not to think about Jeff Buckley (RIP). An explosion of cold fills every cell of our bodies. And repeat until insane. Amazing fun.
Here's a nice little video of a concert me and Petteri played on a bandstand in the middle of Helsinki →
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMuPMD5FKDo
And here's my photos from the Northern escapade →
Next up, my first ever gigs on the entire American continent, as we set off for Canada. Starting out with a couple of gigs with one of my guitar HEROES, Don Ross, and his good friend (and now mine too!) Jimmy Wahlsteen, was a real treat. I have Don's instructional videos at home, and here I am sharing a stage with the man. Baffling! The gigs were great, Canadians are so nice it's unreal. Their politeness is something to behold. I accidentally jumped a really long queue at an airport, because of an erroneous pillar blocking my view. I stood there for a good few minutes before turning around and seeing the snake of people stretching off into the distance behind me. I spoked to the dude behind me: "Erm, excuse me, is this the queue I'm in, are we in the same queue." "Well, actually, yeah, I didn't want to say anything." Wow. In Leeds I'd have received one warning, then it would start getting violent. :D
The Canadian Guitar Festival was another highlight, hosted by the guitar world's answer to an intellectual Fred Flinstone, Del Vezeau. I saw some incredible performances, not least a magical improvised mind-journey from Michael Manring, whose career includes having been Michael Hedges' go-to bass player. Heading across into Quebec you quickly realise you're entering a different country, a hybrid between North America and 18th century France, and dripping with culture. I hung out with luthier-to-the-stars Michael Greenfield, and played a gig with my good buddy Erik Mongrain in his hometown of Montreal. Finally we scooted a couple of thousand miles across Canada to the sparsely populated Atlantic island of Newfoundland. It feels more like the west coast of Britain (except with whales) than North America. The stark landscape and sharp winds felt very familiar and homely! And the gig was so good, we had to do it twice! Our hosts John and Caroline managed to sell out the show, and then John decided during the interval Hey, what the hell, let's announce we're doing it again tomorrow! And - somehow - we sold it out again. It's hard to imagine word-of-mouth working that fast in a big city.
Canada photos:
(if the photo slideshow isn't showing up for you, you can see it here.)
OK, there's still my trip to play in some churches Italy, my super-massive UK tour with Andy McKee and Preston Reed, my Germany/Austria tour and some quick trips to France and Bosnia to talk about. Towards the end of the year, I was starting to get physically exhausted and it started to affect my mental state, so it'll take a bit of courage to blog this stuff. So we'll see. I'll think about it. :)
Until then, I have to get back to preparing to record the new album, Secrets Nobody Keeps. More about that SOON.
Thanks for reading,
Jon
Comment on this using the facebook box (below) or by using the jongomm.com comment box (below that!)