Account By Will Brettell.

One of the pioneers of Heavy Metal took off for the USA West Coast in October 2013 and this is Diamond Head in real-time. As the (well-documented) inspiration for Metallica, this is a band that can rightfully lay claim to being a driving influence on the New Wave of British Heavy Metal and  the sound of  the subsequent giants of hard-rock  As Brian’s friend, occasional guitar tech’ and Chartered Accountant, I was charged with the unlikely privilege of a place on this tour. This is because other people were busy doing proper jobs and Diamond Head needed a lift with the merch and fixing things. It would also become evident that they had no tools.

The tour opened in Vancouver (BC, Canada) on the 8^th October and finished in Dallas, Texas. On Elm Street near Dealey Plaza to be precise, and the very place where John F. Kennedy rather more famously finished fifty years ago. In our search for that venue we actually turned the tourbus around in Dealey Plaza and, although Diamond Head’s place in hard–rock history is widely acknowledged, we were not shot at. Not even once.

Throughout the recital I will try and relay a little of our history and some memorable times we have had which will hopefully make this trip a story and not just a diary. You’ll gain an insight into what a touring band endures and enjoy the hilarity, misery and companionship of a pioneering heavy-metal band that, to this day, still rock the very foundations of the hard-rock genre.

 7^th October

 I am at Brian’s house by 8.30am. I delivered my case last night as it wouldn’t fit in my car without the roof off and it was forecast rain today. The case contains not only my clothes, beauty products and some bits of Diamond Head merch’ but also the ‘Brain Start’.

The Brain Start is a small flight-case containing enough tools, spares, glues, batteries and parts to maintain the band’s weapons of choice. It’s known as the ‘Brain Start’ because many years ago Brian’s 1983 USA Fender Strat’s aluminium flight-case was labelled in large hand-painted day-glo pink lettering ‘BRIAN – STRAT’ to denote the exact contents. A Strat’ belonging to Brian. Some guy in the dressing room read the day-glo denotation whilst the guitar case was upside-down and asked ‘what’s a Brain Start?’. This is still regarded by us as being hilarious. One of those brilliantly daft remarks that just hits home. The ‘Brain Start’ Strat’ now resides on my bedroom wall and the tools flight case is a tribute to this and a reminder to us that dyslexia can be funny. It’s sprayed-up in pink but a lot smaller than the original case which is in my loft.

Brian says I won’t need all these tools etc. but I can’t be sure, so I’ve packed them anyway. There is every chance that the folk at Customs will decide my case is a bomb and take adequate precautions such as delaying the flight while a controlled explosion is executed. This may cause us to be late in arriving at Seattle, where I will then have to explain to some armed Americans why I, as a tourist, was carrying Diamond Head merch’ and tools and stuff rather than just popping to the States for a normal holiday.

We arrived in Seattle after a steady and uneventful flight . The entertainment was via headphones that had insufficient springiness and a screen that, when tilted, became completely blank. With a little effort and the replacement of the headphones with my own ‘Super-X Bass-Plus Dynamic’ ear-buds, the sound was not too bad and I drifted off to the sound of a Marcia Ball album. Several times actually, as the pilot kept interrupting my listening pleasure with unimportant information about weather and emergency procedures. During the flight Brian amused himself by initialling his scones in strawberry jam. This also amused me, but the humour wasn’t everyone’s cream tea.

Once in Seattle we were required to exit the airport via a place called ‘Immigration’ where a Chinese man with some guns asked us many questions about our trip. I obviously said the right things as he subsequently stamped my passport with a glazed look and allowed me through to attend the luggage carousel to re-acquaint myself with my pants and the Brain Start. Not before my retinas were photographed, my toes  subjected to analysis with lasers and my facial features recorded in digital plaster . All of our cases were duly found and we were greeted  outside Seattle airport by Diamond Head’s drummer Karl in a large black Mercedes tourbus. Upon boarding I was introduced to Dean (the agent) and Chas West (the LA rock star who correctly answered a phone-in competition).

Chas was on the tour because Nick’s Dad had recently passed away. Chas is the stereotypical rock singer, lives in LA and has toured with these, them and the others. All that jazz.  There were nine seats on the bus and only seven bodies and I took the seat behind Brian who always sits behind the driver. Chas sat behind Dean who was up-front next to Karl. Abbz was next to me and Ed was sprawled across the back bench-seat. My seat was to be my home for almost a month and it was with great relief that it was like a big comfy dentist’s chair. Not that I like dentists, I just like dentist’s chairs. The bus also came equipped with Wi-Fi and a big flat-screen tv. The Wi-Fi would prove most useful as we would be able to keep in touch with our beloved ones without incurring roaming charges of over one-million dollars per day.

Our luggage is in and we’re off to Bellingham, just on the USA/Canada border. At the hotel in Bellingham there will be deliveries of many t-shirts and some Engl guitar amps. We have just gone through Puget Sound – looks lovely. A big harbour area with a mountainous backdrop. I’ve always wondered what Puget bloody Sound was since hearing the song of the same name by Ian Gillan (Mr Universe). I always liked that song when I was young, but now I’ve been through Puget Sound, the song is still the same and has no deeper meaning. Still, Puget Sound sounds a cool place to say you’ve passed through. It’s early days and I’ve now been to my first notable place.

The hotel at Bellingham was a fair jaunt of one hundred miles-ish or some kilometres, if measured by the local people who have yet to go imperial. We stopped at a steakhouse place for some food and I wondered why all the big pick-ups in the lot. Then I remembered I was in the US (of) A and sank a pint of IPA. Not the same IPA as in England as it’s 8.2% and actually quite nice. Unlike English ale, it isn’t made of mud and doesn’t have twigs in it.

8^th October

The merch’ and amps have arrived! We eagerly unpack the T-shirts and commence the task of labelling them by size and separating them into piles. After we’ve done this we carefully mix them all up and throw them with abandon into huge cardboard boxes.

Boxes that would not, as we were to find out, survive the Great Seattle Sewerage Flood of 2013. Some of the T-shirts were labelled ‘XXX’ denoting triple extra-large and Abbz was only too keen to model one for us in the hotel. It was a bit like a Diamond Head ‘onesy’ really. Designed for a seven-foot gargantuan with oak-like girth, or an American. In the picture you can see Eddy posing with his invisible hovering trombone.

We ain’t got much time so we’re soon on the road aiming for Vancouver, British Columbia for the opening night of the tour. Chas hands round something called Trader Joe’s Trail Mix, a curious blend of dried fruit, nuts and other delights that might be foraged for in a picturesque American forest.

Think ‘Little House on the Prairie’ and the contents of the kids’ lunchboxes and you’ll get the picture. Our English equivalent would only contain conkers and dog shit.

The Rickshaw Theatre was quite nice and comfy as a nice comfy theatre should be with a more than adequate PA. We unloaded the gear, dragged it in and mated it to North American electricity. This then revealed our first major problem as the Engl amps failed to recognise the importance of the need to create an audible signal. They didn’t work. At all. Quick check of the leads and connections and ……Nothing.

If this had been the Grand National it wouldn’t have been the horse’s refusal at the first hurdle, it would’ve been it’s refusal to even open its eyes on the morning of the event. The Brain Start tool-ensemble was commissioned and some tools were used along with some extra speaker leads to run the amps in stereo. There was relief when the amps blundered in to some kind of functionality but I did consider the possibility that North American electricity was diluted with something.

It was at this point I displayed smugness that I had actually used two Maglites simultaneously, Googled the schematics for the Engls and possibly saved the tour from an otherwise certain doom. I do think I actually saved hard-rock on this occasion. These actions were rewarded with a medal. Well, not actually, as Karl said – ‘What d’ya want – a fekkin’ medal?’ -  but I never actually received my award. I reason my medal must have been lost somewhere . It may turn up yet.

The gig was fine. In fact rather better than fine. Chas displayed amazing confidence and ability throughout while the gear also stood the test. It is evident that the hobby of smoking drugs is more than healthy in Vancouver. The smell of marijuana was over-powering, coupled with the fact that some punters requested T-shirts in sizes that simply do not exist such as ‘small-XL’. A ‘small XL’ must surely be a ‘large’? The merch’ did however sell well from my perch at side-stage. It was a great gig and my first meeting with Raven’s merch’ guy Richard who, we were to find out, is a veteran of the Vietnam conflict (war). I’d never met a Vietnam veteran before and the first one I met bought me a beer. That’s gotta be good.

The support for the whole tour was provided by Raven, a three-piece that really can rock! After the gig Diamond Head (et moi) retired to the hotel in Downtown Vancouver for a well-earned sleep and dreams of the scene in Seattle the very next night.

9^th October

We’ve just been asked to park the tourbus in the ‘special’ area and the US Border Control Immigration Squad Search Task Force are all over us. We attend a quarantine area while the Immigration Border Patrol Special Police Patrol Search Team search the tourbus. They are looking for imported merchandise that may be subject to taxes. And fruit. Yes, fruity things that may contaminate the US, infecting it’s production, and all it’s inhabitants with a deadly Fruit Disease so deadly they have no name for it. Giving it a name only encourages nationwide panic in the event of a citizen contracting what we know as ‘the Shits’.

We wait for ages and I’m interviewed by another (armed) official seeking to clarify my exact reason for being in Canada for just one day. Karl is also given the third-degree and the Border Immigration Police Patrol Special Search Team continue the search.

They have identified two apples (in the main cabin area) that they consider to be a risk to the security of the US, and confiscated them. For this we are charged ten dollars and seventy-five cents. Amazingly, these apples were purchased in Seattle the day before we went to Vancouver and have not been in contact with any Canadian apples, even for any kind of casual rendezvous . As far as we know.

We won’t quibble because then we’ll be here for many more hours. Our passports are subjected to yet more scrutiny and it transpires that Chas has a problem with his as the stamp his received in Russia, many  years ago, has a slight smear. This seems to mean he will be executed.

Fortunately, the Border Immigration Death Search Tax Police have not found any other merchandise that may raise some tax or provide them with some lunch. Good thing, as I have a couple of Weetabix Oaty Bars in Brian’s seat-back that could cause a major lock-down and yet more hours in the comfort of the quarantine/interrogation suite. Abbz also has an apple core that has not been identified as a potential threat to US security. We are through and back in the US. We should make Seattle in time for a sound-check with Chas unexecuted and, hopefully not tortured in any way. Water-boarding, reported as a torture method in Guantanamo Bay, may well have had a detrimental effect on his voice.

This was a bit of a nightmare actually. We were delayed by a couple of hours and that couple of hours was critical when you consider the journey and what needed to be done. The delay may have been compounded by me asking a border guard why no prices were displayed on the items in the gift shop display units. Glass units that contained lovely boots, belts and trinkets made from fine hides and …..Oh, Ivory. And the fine skins were crocodile and snake.

The ‘gift shop’ was a display of confiscated items. Items that could not cross the border. It was a genuine mistake me thinking there was a gift shop at Border Control. Still, be a nice idea having a gift shop at the border selling plastic-ivory chess sets, synthetic snakeskin cowboy boots and genuine Oakley’s. And possibly gift cards to attach to some uncontaminated fruit.

Studio 7 – Seattle

Seems a nice enough place and the load-in is easy enough. Saxon played here last night and it was, apparently, rammed. The rider is just a takeout and free drinks. The merch’ is down on the back wall the of the venue and  I’ve made the best of some tables, gaffa tape, hangars and stuff. Looks alright, Raven’s merch’ is opposite and Richard has also made the best with what he’s got. Still, all looks good for the gig. Some kid comes in early and salutes Brian as his biggest influence. Brian’s response is, with typical modesty, to inform the lad that he himself may be in this situation one day. The lad points out that he hasn’t the credential of writing a hugely famous hard-rock classic such as ‘Am I Evil’ and so Brian provides the necessary guidance:

‘…do memo to self –‘ write memorable hard-rock song’’.

Funny. At this point Richard is finishing Raven’s merch’ stand and Brian asks him how much the clothes pegs cost.

The gig seems to go well until…. My feet seem awfully wet and my Converse All*Stars, that have two small vent-holes on the inner-arch of each foot, appear to be making a funny suck/slurp noise as I visit the bar. This is because the merch’ area is flooded and my vent-holes have acted as a simple bilge-pump. Not just a bit of water, a lot of water. Very nasty noxious water. I have reviewed the area and contacted the appropriate staff who have informed me that the area has suffered considerable water ingress. A fact I am only too well aware of. This is what’s known as ‘flooding’. Swift relocation of the merch’ boxes is too late to save them from an untimely degradation and an operative with an Aqua-Vac is soon deployed and does no good whatsoever. My new Converse All*Stars are possibly ruined. An added insult is that the flood is from the ‘ladies’  being ‘possibly overwhelmed with sanitary products’. This is what English people would term ‘unpleasant’.

Great gig apart from cold, wet feet and sloppy merch’ boxes that will need to be replaced with plastic ones tomorrow. The T-shirts haven’t suffered but the boxes can’t even be lifted without falling to bits.

Spokane tomorrow and an opportunity to find a hardware store that supplies large plastic boxes. Spokane, The Hop, is a gig where some guy died of ‘multiple gunshot wounds’ two weeks prior in the parking lot behind the venue.

10^th October

Spokane (pronounced ‘spoke-ann’) is in Washington. A State where smoking marijuana is considered derigeur, and is largely ignored by the police. We arrive well in time for a sound-check and the first thing we see when we pull up is a vintage toy shop on the opposite side of the street. We rush over and storm the toy shop instead of casing out the venue. Nothing lost as the shop, although a purveyor of ‘vintage and antique pieces’ purveys nothing rarer than could be found at Cash Converters or an average car-boot sale in the UK. The concept of ‘antique’ is junk from about 1984. and ‘vintage’ is junk from about 1991. We did find a Led Zeppelin T-shirt for nine bucks, but it was only something you would find in an Oxfam . Block after block there are welding equipment stores. ‘Brad’s Welding Supplies’, ‘Buzz’s Big Welding Shop’, ‘Chad’s Super Welding Supplies’, ‘Chet’s Welding Superstore’ etc. I ain’t sure, but Spokane seems to have a big welding scene. What they weld, I couldn’t tell. People of Spokane are keen welders for sure and they have spawned a micro-economy. Just like Ross-on-Wye is famous for books, Bilston for enamel and Birmingham for guns – Spokane is welding supplies.

The load-in is fine and so is the gig. The only downer is the hotel which is a real wounder. It’s a bit like ‘Crossroads’ but less inviting in a filthy-and-nothing-works kind of way. There is a docile  wolf-like creature guarding reception and the only things that seem to work are the hookers.

The gig was a stormer, yet again. Not a huge turnout but a stormer nonetheless. One observation is of a guy wearing a ‘Witchfinder General’ T-shirt. How is this is possible? That band are also from Stourbridge, England and haven’t gigged in the last thousand years, let alone released any material that could have made the pond to Washington and necessitated the purchase of a T-shirt. And so that man is wearing a T-shirt promoting a band that are highly unlikely to have been heard of in Spokane and are even more unlikely to ever rock up and deliver some tunes. I am led to believe that the guitarist is currently a builder. This is only the first of many sightings of  Witchfinder General T-shirts.

 The merch’ was in a room behind the main area and was bloody freezing. And I mean bloody freezing! The food and rider took an age to arrive and when it did it was ……. A chicken. Not just a chicken, but a glorious spit-roasted mini-bird measuring at least eight inches. A celebration of culinary skills complimented by a plastic container of coleslaw mysteriously suspended in a white liquid. It may have been an American delicacy, but it’s unlikely as Americans don’t have delicacies. They have things that are easy to grow, easy to cook, and easy to eat. Or, easy to process and make into lumpy things that are then easy to cook and easy to eat etc. Any complicated bits are made easy by immersing the ingredients in breadcrumb and depositing them in a deep-fat fryer. If this fails, the ingredients are subjected to a dowsing in cheese-sauce. Cheese-sauce made from secret ingredients of which none is cheese, cheese-based or even remotely cheese-like in appearance, flavour, consistency or content. Possibly some kind of sticky residue from a petroleum manufacturing plant.

Richard has no food as Raven have gone to the hotel after the sound-check. I duly share my miniature travel-roast with Richard and we both have a lovely mouthful of  chicken and petroleum-based coleslaw. Eaten with our plastic forks, my two screwdrivers and Richard’s debit card.

11^th October

We’re up and away early. Not much sleep and not much food. Off to Portland, Oregon. The tail-lights on the bus are playing up and, rather than risk being tugged by the law, we decide to replace some bulbs. The drive to Portland is six and a half hours and, with California plates on a tourbus in Oregon, the law is always keen to take a nose so the Brain Start is commissioned and the lights are made good. All is well for the drive down to Portland through scenery that is simply astonishing.

It’s at this point that the really funny stuff begins …..