‘Yea? Why would you come to Houston?’ asked the older local in wonder and realization before taking a light of a huge spliff that resembled a prop from a Cheech and Chong movie and put it in his mouth. I was making conversation with the fella’s around us before The Butthole Surfers were due to take stage. Back together after in their home state of Texas after 6 years in the ether, a band famous for their live performances and rare UK tours was the tipping point for what made Nags and me cave in and buy tickets for Day for Night festival. The sound check however was taking an obscenely long time and the crowd was getting audibly restless. In my blown out psychedelic state I listened in and out to the Texan drawl of some nearby kids who must have been the age of university students. All I could make out of their pater was a random exclamation of ‘Ya’ll doing heroin in 7th grade! Ya’ll were doing heroin in 8th grade! I aint saying it weren’t hard! Lets just take it easy!’ The absurdity was enough to make me laugh alone, but considering the state I was in this wasn’t a hard task. As the crowd grew ever the more restless I began to chuckle more manically to myself. After a full summer of conquering the best festival experiences Europe has to offer my Festival Odyssey was now climaxing in Houston Texas, about to watch a bunch of old hell raisers – completely burnt out of my brains on one of the heftiest acid trips I’d had in a long time. That moment alone made it all worth it….
I seem to remember our logic of ‘we’ll only regret not going to this’ being the catalyst that got the wheels in motion for our mid winter holiday. So to seal the deal I took out a loan from the bank and booked us up a couple of direct flights, festival tickets and a deposit for a hostel. The total amounting to £750, taking into account that this would have been a significantly smaller fee if the pound wasn’t the worthless piece of shit it currently is. A bust up with travel money company Travalex had put me even further out of pocket, but despite this minor setback I still had enough cash to know we were going to enjoy our week in the States. Besides we’d already agreed that we weren’t going in with the mindset of this being a bender. A few cans in the hostel of an evening was our earnest decision before boarding that flight from Heathrow. However since I was so wound up by the currency people I decided that I needed to get drunk, and fast! And washed down a Valium chaser with every large G&T I ordered from the Heathrow Spoons.
Needless to say, the 10 and a half hour flight was an absolute doddle.
I was slightly concerned about entering the United States. I’d heard horror stories of people being turned away from the border because of misdemeanors that had turned into unknown warrants for that person’s arrest. I am aware there is currently a warrant out for my arrest for a similarly small charge back home. I then had flashbacks to my experience with the Montreal custom officer who seemed to try his best to trip me up with a series of bizarrely intrusive but simple questions, and that was in a city where the majority of people were really friendly. But if cities hospitality was judge on its custom and immigration officers, then Houston must be one of the friendliest places on earth! Straight away my man was telling me facts about the city, saw where we was staying and said it was a good part of town, filled me in on the weather, when would be the best time to visit and so on. Top quality small talk whilst he did all the typing away he had to do. Then as I waited at the carousel for my bag a tasty looking bird just burst into polite conversation with me. Taken aback by the abrupt friendliness of the people around us we stumbled out into the humid winter air and into the back of an Uber.
Chucking our shit into our new home for the next week, trying not to wake our roommates in the 6 person on suite dorm, we decided to see what the main drag had to offer, get a little something to eat and just see where the night took us. Conveniently our hostel was parallel to said main road so we were never far from home. A long line of bars, restaurants, supermarkets and thrift stores punctuate the street and we decided to pop our heads into a lively looking pool hall to wet our whistles and get some food in our bellies.
‘Lets see what Tinder is saying’ I said pulling out my blower and asking the barmaid the Wi-Fi password. Within a few swipes the two us had already received matches. Then as I got up to use the John I noticed a super like from a sexy redhead who told me she had also matched with Nags and invited us to come play pool with her around the corner. ‘I was just sat here on my own texting people to come out when two British men just happened to be in the neighbourhood on Tinder! What luck!’ As I came out of the toilet I called over to Nags ‘get your coat mate, we’ve pulled’ We had been in Texas for about 5 minutes and we’d already scored a date.
The bar she lead us too was Lola’s. An unassuming building just a few minutes from the place we were already drinking. The door mans face lit up when he we showed him our British I.D’s, then both our faces erected into smiles as we walked into the dankest looking dive bar we could possibly hope to start chatting up sexy women in. A dark and dingey bar with a loud jukebox and a few pool tables. Even in the toilet there was no cubicle around the throne and no lock on the door, I went in needing a shit and geezer stood just a couple of feet away at urinal looked back with a nonchalant glance and said ‘Go on man, I don’t care’
You’ll notice a theme to this blog and the characters within it, where everyone we were to meet in Texas was one of the friendliest characters you’d ever like to cross paths with. There was even a few moments where you realize just how reserved our sensibilities can be being British. Especially being from London. As we went to order a drink a guy apologized to us for reasons I still cant figure out. Later on in the week I had another moment in a different bar when a bird walked passed me and apologized again for no apparent reason. When I asked her what for she replied ‘Well, because I nearly bumped into you’ Can you imagine where that attitude would get you during rush hour traffic on the tube?
We found our date out in the spacious beer garden to the back of the building. She was from New Orleans and her name was Sommer. She had an ornate glass pipe filled with weed in her hand which she would frequently take blasts on. She was also on the look out for wristbands to Day for Night. Straight away she was charmed by the two of us because of our accents, laughing whenever we dropped a bit of British slang or used the word ‘cunt’ as a pronoun with complete gay abandon like we usually would. She too had a lot of sexy charm to her. She was a student of some sort, had a good taste in music and the arts and had a very carefree energy about her. But nearly blew it when I asked her the million dollar question ‘Do you like The Simpsons?’ to which she replied ‘I like Futurama’ Me and Nags got up to leave in faux disgust.
After a game of pool and a few more beers – Happy Hour meaning that a round of 3 beers came to $5.50! We decided to get a change of scenery. So she bundled us into her car filled with loose art work and drove us to another place just around the corner from where we lived. A classier joint called Avante Garden, this place was also in full swing. There was a drunken man on guitar in the main room whilst people just jammed in the covered smoking area outside. I asked a bird for a lighter and she smiled at me and complimented my accent – you’d think such a perk would wear off pretty quickly but I can assure you it don’t.
We were all pretty wasted by this point. Me and Nags had technically been drinking for the best part of 24 hours and this bird was putting them away without complaint. Due to the frequent puffs on her pipe, Nags was looking the more wasted out the two of us. But I still had it in mind that this bird was up for having a go on the two of us– 2 British blokes only in town for one week, it was her lucky night! Although when we got back to the Hostel I went to make our new friend a cup of tea with some British tea bags I took the liberty of smuggling across the border. In this time she had locked herself in our dorm bathroom with wasted Nags. Now I’d like to say that this story climaxes with me watching Nags clumsily trying to thumb a softy into this willing woman whilst from the front I try and gesture her to stick a finger up my arse whilst noshing me off… Although the reality of that story would have probably been a total buzz kill, the very concept that it could have happened is funny enough.
In truth what I believe to have happened as Nags has no recollection, was that in that toilet she tried with dismay to get some action out of my mans flaccid drunken penis only to give up in a state of despair. When the two of them came out to join me for a cup of tea I could sense the disappointment and shame in the air. Sommer decided to leave but having regretted just watching a bird walk away so many times in the past I committed the desperate and borderline creepy act of running after her to her car. Making my intentions clear to her she assured me that ‘it’s a full week ya’ll here for baby’ before the two of us kopped of for a few minutes and I let her drive off drunkenly into the night.
I don’t blame Nags for essentially fucking things with that bird. We were both pissed and our judgments were off. In hindsight I should have pointed out his wasted state and just fucked her in the communal showers, but hey ho. I’m not going to berate a man just after he’s just been sexually assaulted in a hostel shower. If we could find a bird like this within hours of being here who knows what the rest of the week would be like! Unfortunately we never saw Sommer again, but she did give us some great recommendations via Whatsapp, which the following morning we went to check out, and she gave me a pill of something apparently more powerful then Adderall. She was a feisty character who i’m glad we had the pleasure of meeting. Who knows maybe we aint seen the last of her yet?
The following morning I awoke early due to jet lag and a hangover that felt like something the boys up the road at NASA had developed. I struggled to get even the smallest bit of toast in my belly. Sommer had recommended us some thrift stores and museums to visit that were just walking distance from our home.
We’d been a bit keen with our early rise and found out everything on our list of things to see was shut, so went for coffee and breakfast at a nearby café. Our first stop was the Rothko Chapel, a space for meditation but also a platform for talks from people of varying faiths and other communities, there’s only so long you can spend in a place designed for meditation without actually actively pauing for thought, so we left pretty sharpish although agreed the vibe of the place was pretty cool. Across the road in the museum district was The Menil collection, a large gallery of modern art and rare ancient artifacts. There was a whole exhibit of Picasso’s and another filled with artifacts from ancient civilizations restored to their original perfect form. I’ve been to a few galleries and museums such as this one on my travels and I am always left thinking that it’s either not as good as something that can been seen in London, or I shudder at the prospect of having to pay for it and only do so as it’ll pass the time at least. This collection however was totally worth coming out for and our hour and half observing the exhibits was time well spent.
We clocked a few antiques stores filled with wonderful little Americana trinkets and browsed the sports wear of the thrift stores. With it still only being mid morning, we decided to walk into the Downtown area which dominated the horizon with the huge glass skyscrapers in the middle of it. Downtown aint exactly the hippest area of Houston but it’s by no means dull. Every bar and restaurant we eventually frequented in the area was worth it. Seeing enough of it for one afternoon we decided to head back to the hostel for a nap.
My hangover still hadn’t shifted despite for a second time trying to get some food in myself. I also blamed the heavy cold I could feel coming on, which initially I put down to plane but eventually diagnosed as 9 months worth of long traveling, heavy drinking and nonchalant drug use. I certainly hadn’t taken up the gym and yoga like I promised myself after my intercontinental bender of a summer and had noticed that in the past few months I had taken ill a lot more often then I was used to, resulting in a few occasions where I had to call into work for being genuinely sick and not just because I cant be bothered like %99 of my other sick days have been. I took this as a sign of my body trying to scream and plead with me to treat it better. Next year I promise I’ll put more of an effort in.
Our afternoon naps did nothing to dispel our horrendous hangovers. Determined to go out on the town however, I found a British themed pub that played live music after 8. The pub was called Rudyard’s after the famous British poet and novelist. There was a bubbly bulldyke on the bar who’s Morrissey shirt I took a liking too, but that was where the British theme ended at this place. There wasn’t a piece of British tat to be seen on those walls and not a single British beer on tap. We sat grimacing at our pints in a state of defeat and decided to head back and get an early night.
The following day our Canadian partners in crime were due to join us. Chris – my former lovers ex-boyfriend turned new friend and his old drinking buddy from university Geoff, who reminded me of a character from Trailer Park Boys. Straight away they took interest in this fantastic dive bar we’d told them about and made our way to Lola’s. After swallowing a few beers there we decided to show the lads the other coolest bar in town and took them to Avante Gardens. After a few more rounds we were invited upstairs for a stand up comedy open mic. Now usually open mic comedies are more hit then miss and even when they’re good that’s usually because you’re finding yourself laughing out of politeness. But the majority of this bunch were really polished. Each act with their own particular quality and some genuinely hilarious bits you’d expect from more experienced comics. Although I often get the impression that the stand up circuit in the States is a more popular thing then what we’re used to. Just look at the low quality of our young stand ups today.
Downstairs a ska band played in the main room but we went out back for a smoke. At this rate we were getting so many Tinder likes it was hard to keep up with it all. I matched one bird and Nags suggested I should use a line from a Bloodhound Gang Song – ‘I wish I was queer so that I could get with chicks’ mores specifically ‘If your arse was a Chinese restaurant, I’d be ordering the Puh Puh platter’…. She responded by telling me that of all the weirdo messages she’d received that was up there with the best. Within a few messages we’d agreed a date the following evening.
The band was lively and the bar swinging, what’s more my appetite had returned and the Mexican food truck outside was doing some divine tacos for $2 a pop. The barmaid gave Nags the bands CD for free – which he later chucked in a tree in a drunken stupor. I don’t remember going to bed that night, but I remember the following morning being yet another sequel in a series of week long blockbuster hangovers.
The following day we were due to collect our festival wristbands from the venue. ‘Will call’ they called it. Now in the lead up to the event as part of the many visual art exhibits on offer Bjork was also presenting her VR spectacular. Seeing as it was bound to be so popular the festival offered bookings for it. The process was all very confusing and at first I though I’d fucked it by ordering only Chris and mines ticket. How I’d actually fucked it was that I’d instead ordered them for the Friday pre-party which we did not have tickets for. I also took issue with the festival charging us $8 for postage despite being nothing sent in the post. But not wanting to be a dick in a city that had been nothing but nice to me I let both matters slide. The issue over the Bjork experience being because if I knew what these events were usually like they’d just dismiss me for being an idiot and probably rightly so. Until whilst sat in the bar having a late afternoon cocktail Chris messaged us to tell us they’d been given wristbands to the Friday party. Baffled we asked how he’d managed such a blag. Apparently he’d just explained the situation and they’d agreed that if that was the case then they should have Friday wristbands. My humbly bankrupt London mentality had gotten the better of me again. Although I was only slightly disappointed to miss the Bjork instillation, many people came away from it with an indifferent opinion. Above all else I was glad Chris and Geoff got a free night out. There was even a free bar, which considering the beers at the festival weighed in at a heavy $8, you could potentially drink your festival ticket money back during the warm up party alone.
I’d popped up to a hotel on main street to pick up a prescription of Adderall from my American friends who’s commitment and friendliness I’d fallen in love with at the Bangface weekender just a few months previous. Then it was back home for a quick spruce up before both of Nags and mines evening dates.
We were set to meet up in the Rice district of the city, an area I assume to be a student part of town due the huge University that dominated it on the map. The bar that was suggested was called Ginger Bread Man and had over a 100 different beers on offer. Wise choice! I liked this bird already. So arriving early I necked a couple of my newly purchased Adderall washed down with a Sam Smyths chocolate stout and waited for my date to arrive.
Now I’d gone to the States knowing full well what an asset my accent and culture was for pulling birds and yes I had fully intended to go on this date with the expectation of going home with the bird in question. Ungentlemanly conduct I know but when a bird invites you on a date on the strength of your opening line being a joke explicitly alluding to rimming I think I can be forgiven for having such expectations. I went on this date expecting it to be a similar experience to what I’ve been having for years – just another horny/lonely/busy woman who’d found someone equally willing online. Instead what I got was one of most profoundly excellent dates I’ve been on in quite a long time…
She was a PhD student studying philosophy and English, originally from Dallas though she said she preferred Houston as it was more liberal. Apparently Houston and Austin are the more liberal parts of Texas, whilst anything further north is more conservative area you’d be forgiven for stereotyping. We matched blows on cultural knowledge, books we’d read, our music tastes were similar down to the very niche artists and more importantly and uniquely her wisdom of film rivaled my own – calling me out when I used an Exorcist reference as a piece of advice, and she listened with great interest as I reeled off a load of British film makers she should check out. We exchanged ideals and I showed of some of my feminist rhetoric I’d picked up over the last couple of years, each of us fascinated and impressed by the others ideologies, theories and designs for life. We touched on the presidential election and I assured her it was nothing to be afraid of, all whilst she matched my unquenchable first for beer, which was being served to us by a bar worker who pulled off service like he was my new best friend. She also insisted that she paid her way for every beer she ordered, which by the way girls is very attractive.
I played several ace cards of Briticisms. When she asked me if I’d like to go out for a smoke I agreed saying I wouldn’t mind a fag myself… ‘Excuse me?’ she replied in shock, then laughed when I told her that not only do we associate the word fag more for cigarettes then that of a derogatory term for gay people, but that the kind of snouts we were smoking would be referred to as ‘straight fags’ in the UK. Her knowledge of stand up was pretty broad and she even practiced some herself, sometimes dipping in and out of bits she’d been working on during our meet. I don’t remember if I laughed out of politeness or whether they were actually funny but I was genuinely impressed regardless.
As the date went on I noticed I was in that moment where someone who’s looks initially you found to be rather plain turn to genuine beauty the more they seduce you with their personality. The two of us drank, smoked and rambled away and as the date came to a close she told me that of all the dates she’d been on this was probably the best one. I asked if it was down to my British charm and she agreed that a lot of it was. Escorting her to her Uber I admitted to her what my intentions were initially for this date ‘I’m sorry I just don’t do that’ she said with an adorable Texan innocence. But I assured her that instead I got a load more then I bargained for and sneaked a kiss goodnight. I’d travelled almost 5,000 miles looking for a shag and end up with a bird that I’d quite happily play the long game with… Typical.
I messaged Nags to see how his date was going. Dreadful apparently but he did manage to get his date to drive him to the bar I was drinking in. Apparently she seemed on the spectrum, not making any eye contact, not joining him for a drink as she was driving, whilst the date was peppered with plenty of awkward silences…. Not to worry we conceded. Still a load of time left. We both still had plenty of Tinder conversations with other birds going, plus using such an app at a festival was bound to be fruitful. We sunk another beer then got in an Uber with yet another character behind the wheel. A big black bloke from New York called Reginald who matched everything you’d profile a character of that description to be. He like many of the other Uber drivers I was to take that weekend all agreed with me on the election result. That nothing would get done and that all would happen after 4 years was an even more disillusioned nation demanding genuine change.
Our usual haunt was inexplicably closed for midnight on a Friday, so we checked out the bar across the road. The atmosphere weren’t as lively as what we’d already experienced elsewhere and we left at chucking out time. We’d already had a fulfilling if not vaguely frustrating time in Houston and we hadn’t even done what we’d come there to do yet…
The Day for Night festival was held in the northern area of the Downtown district in a huge disused post office. A guy in a bar earlier had told us that the space was the largest vacant bit of land in Houston at the moment. What was peculiar was the 3 out door stages at a winter festival, but wasn’t questioned when you considered it was 25 degrees and everyone was in summer wear even though it was Christmas the next week. Inside there was another live stage as well as the area for the many lighting exhibitions. Now usually art at a festival is very secondary, it’s just apart of the background and only something you show any interest in once you start tripping your tits off, DfN is a huge exception to this rule.
The unique concept of Day for Night is that the art makes up 50% of the festival and compliments the unique, eclectic lineup filled with artists selected on the strength of their visionary stage presence. Straight away this made Day for Night stand out from any other inner city festival I’d ever been too. Back in the UK the only festivals you’d find inner city are those such as Brighton calling or the now defunct Camden crawl which is set in a variety of the cities venues, or the likes of your Wireless festivals which are just huge, basic, corporate open air concerts. Despite the long list of sponsors for this festival being brandished on its official website, you wouldn’t believe it from walking around the place, even the food trucks felt like they were tucked away so as not to upset the vibe.
I will do the art at DfN absolutely no justice by trying to review any of it but I will agree that you’d feel satisfied that the event itself would work just as an art show. With the stand out exhibit that I saw being a room filled with planet shaped spheres, orbiting sometimes in sync but then sometimes not, the premise of the instillation being based on the furthest parts of our universe…. I told you I’d do none of the art justice in review.
The huge decaying venue that reminded me of squat parties back home also gave off great reverb for the acts on stage indoors. There were plenty of bars on offer, some toilets weren’t signed too well and some que’s were horrendous. Apparently there was also a plumbing problem for a lot of the toilets and water points and people were unable to wash their hands or refill their water bottles, which is a problem for a licensed event but again something that gave me nostalgia of raves back home.
The main stage backed onto the ostentatious skyline of glass citadels that made up Houston’s Downtown. Probably the most impressive backdrop I’ve seen for any festival, urban or otherwise. Sound levels were mostly good all around. With only a distortion glitch on the vocals of Tobacco being my only gripe. Regardless their finally tuned synth heavy set was excellent. The opening act for the festival was a consortium of Houston based Hip-hop artists quite endearingly named ‘Welcome to Houston’ a wonderful way to warm up such an event. Another highlight for the Saturday lineup was Ambient noise producers Oneotrhix Point Never. A very visceral set which had a few basslines that both made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up whilst simultaneously feeling like I was being punched in the chest.
Craving something a bit more fun we found the other lads and headed over to the main stage for Odesza, who were the only unknown act in the lead up to the festival that I’d actually researched. Essentially a high production EDM act who would be pretty good live and good tonic to the intensity of the droning albeit none the less impressive sound of Oneotrhix. Odesza certainly delivered what were craving, essentially a few producers dicking about with laptops with live brass section and interludes of live percussion. Good clean fun with bright, colourful visuals. Before the festival I was excited at the prospect of seeing John Carpenter headline the blue stage inside the building, however as I noticed how excited all the yanks were getting for the prospect of their rare if not only chance of seeing Aphex Twin, I just couldn’t resist the prospect of being in a crowd of 10,000 of them losing their shit. He was booked as a 2 hour headliner so I was confident there was no way he was going to come here to fuck about. Plus another fact about me that made me cool to all the locals was that I’d seen Aphex 3 times previously, that fascinated them.
My only genuine regret of the holiday was when during the Odesza set a cute hipster chick from Louisiana took a liking to my Bangface shirt. I schooled her on the community of hard crew and she seemed amazed by the level of headliners we get booked for it over here and was again absolutely fascinated by the way I spoke… ‘Ya’ll all say things real funny over dont you? Like ‘cheers’ and ‘mate’?’ She got a picture with me and my shirt she enjoyed so much, then wondered off with her mates not before asking my name, which I stylized out in James Dean fashion smoking a fag then exhaling before telling her what it was. But what I do regret was not getting a photo myself as a postcard for the folks back home ‘There aint no feeling finer then a cute Louisiana hipster, thanks thinks you’re cool just because ‘y’all Hardcrew?’
Chris intuitively got us into the best spot for Aphex. 50 yards dead centre from the sound desk with a perfect view of the stage, optimum location for the sound as well. As mentioned I’d seen Aphex play several times before. I was telling people not to expect anything in particular but I was confident he wasn’t going to use this opportunity to fuck around like I’ve heard he does at sets before. Infact I remember the Bangface Weekender when for about 20 minutes all the lights went off and nothing happened as if there was a power cut of sorts…. I think this was just Mr James being a prick.
The best description of the set that I have read since the festival is that it was ‘a comprehensive dissertation in electronic music’ and that’s pretty much what it was. Acid bangers, rinsing amens, thumping, finely tuned bass all leading to a trademark crescendo of gabber and terror for the final 15 minutes. The visuals were absolutely on the money. Starting off with animations of a map of the UK dropping bombs of acid smiley faces all over a map of Houston. Then of course there was plenty of the trademark Richard D. James face being plastered on former presidents and the audience members themselves.
The sound was a perfect level the visuals were fantastic and even the lazer show which truly looked amazing once a cold wind brushed over us, then a storms worth of rain came pouring down giving the lasers a whole new look of wonder to them. This sudden change of climate made the crowd go absolutely wild, myself included and also quite comically a bunch of Latino fella’s who were huddled together jumping up an down having the time of their lives. I wasn’t too bothered about scoring drugs that day but when I saw the effect that rain had on those lasers and when I thought that for a few people here who were tripping, not just kids but grown adults who were seeing Aphex for the first time that must have been an absolutely mind blowing experience.
His set was one of the most epic performances I’d seen all summer, no one could have any complaints with his professionalism on this one, the fella is one of a kind. Americans may have waited nearly 10 years for him to return again but they can very proud with the set he brought to them.
Geoff and Nags were both ready to call it a night. But with me buzzing off a mix of vibes, Adderall and booze and with Chris also high on vibes and the caffeine of the sugary pop drink he’d been refilling all day we decided to hunt out a few after parties not before giving the art instillations another check. One of which we spent a great deal of time in front of was a wall of mirrors each lit up by varying light sequences. Sitting directly infront of made everything behind you turn back to front and the way the different mirrors were angled meant that I was able to take a selfie of myself taking a selfie of myself. Looking at all these things made me think that tripping tomorrow was probably going to be mandatory.
Whilst sat in front of this mind bending wall of mirrors Chris researched a few after parties. The official one being a $30 cover charged follow by a $20 all you can drink extra! Tempting but the venue was far from our hostel and the music didn’t seem too great compared to another party that was going on in what looked like a run down warehouse somewhere in the suburbs. We both agreed the latter would probably be the better option.
The venue was in a warehouse in what looked like a bit of a run down part of town. The door fee was $30 for the whole weekend. Expensive but there was a huge festival in town and the party was a 3 room Funktion 1 set up with a lineup of some names that I recognized. To buy alcohol you had to purchase a token that cost $5 for any alcoholic drink, still a bit steep but they did say you could bring your own booze in. Unfortunately in Texas it’s impossible to buy booze after 11pm, I find this is a bit of theme with most places in the world that aint the UK and more specifically cities that aint London are incredibly hard to find booze shops after hours. A few days earlier in the hostel we mentioned that in London you could buy booze 24 hours a day and people seemed absolutely gob smacked by the idea.
The party was exactly like the squat parties I was used to back home, cold, dilapidated toilets but sound systems loud enough to make you not care. The main room had a list of breakcore and bass heavy artist whilst the middle room played deep house and the 3rd room played D&B. In the corner of the main room was a geezer painting a picture on a massive canvas. The crowd was everything you’d expect to see at a party back home only more… Texan?
Feeling like a sit down me and Chris opted for nice looking sofa to rest ourselves on and have a listen to the music, then what I can only describe as a San Fransico cliché approached us. A gorgeous and glamorous looking black woman with long dreadlocks and shiny gold dress stood over us smiling. ‘Do you mind if I lie down on that couch?’ Not really knowing how to react me and Chris looked at each other wondering how this woman would fit on the sofa with us two on it. ‘Oh don’t worry’ she added ‘You don’t have to move I’ll just lie across the 2 of you’ so she did. Then in her most eloquent and inebriated way she started regaling us a story of how during the evening she’d spent the whole of Aphex Twins set back stage talking with Bjork and sheltering from the rain, then when I asked her what she did for a living of course she had a range of different projects from art dealing to furniture up cycling on her radar. Her boyfriend would often come into the frame, almost completely oblivious the two fella’s cradling his missus. Infact they were so casual I turned to Chris and asked ‘Do you think these are sex people or just high people?’
To her credit whenever she felt like she was about to be sick she was able to get up and launch herself over the back of the sofa to be sick. Then return to her spot on top of me and Chris, subtly giving my leg a bit of a rub as she lay there with her head in my lap. Her fella was actually more then grateful to have us there. Turns out the reason behind their backstage passes was because he worked for the company supplies Aphex Twin with some of the equipment he uses or something. I know on paper the sound of such San Francisco stereotypes such as these two would probably come across as arrogant dicks but they weren’t! They were absolutely lovely and humble with their name dropping stories and were very impressed and entertained about the time I got star struck meeting Thom Yorke in Covent Garden once. In return for sorting out his missus, the geezer sold us a couple of tabs of acid – real California Sunshine straight from San Francisco! He assured us it was top gear. I gave the bird a kiss on head and told her to look after herself. A lovely couple who’s company was a pleasure to be in.
In the 3rd room I got chatting to the fella who’d been playing the main room Hitori Tori his producer name was and was impressed that I’d traveled from England for Day for Night. Straight away he asked if I was at the weekender this year and revealed my hallowed shirt. He too is on the lineup this year and I’ll be sure to say hello to him, then I realized that he was friends with some other guys from Vancouver who were also Hard Crew, but what was even more amazing was that Chris new them from parties in Canada from years ago. A small world this raving lark. A lovely bloke that Hitori Tori fella, makes great glitchy breakcore amens. I’ll definitely catch his set at the Weekender.
Seeing as Chris was the sober one and was paying for the Uber he started to feel tired and felt like getting back to sleep. It was almost 6am and I already doffed my cap to him for being able to go for this long completely sober. Infact for the entire time leading up to that he was able to stand our drunken arses without really giving a shit. I’ve been sober around drunken mates before and have only found it nothing but boring. Fair play to geezers like that who can still enjoy themselves and be social without booze.
Chris also fancied a walk to McDonalds for a post rave snack. Feeling cautious I questioned whether it be safe us walking around in a neighborhood we don’t really know. It’s all well and good coming out of a party in Hackney Wick one morning and being confronted by a junky – 2 grown men could easily take him. Over here in America and in an open carry state such as Texas they could just easily shoot us both then rob our corpses.
I asked the sexy raver chick who’d taken our money on the door if she knew if it was a safe neighborhood to walk around in ‘I dunno baby I aint from round here but why don’t y’all ask her over there… the one with the booty’ referring to the trio of big, black tranny’s that had just walked into the party. Then when I asked them the same question the 3 of them looked me up and down, sniggered and said ‘Oh baby just get in a taxi’. We ignored her advice and walked anyway, Macdonalds was of course closed so we had to ask the Uber driver to go through the drive through in exchange for hash browns. He was another good Uber driver. Talking about politics and hierarchies of power in the country without sounding like a boring nutter. When he asked me about Trump and I said how we in England watched on with amazement at his rise and how if a politican over here had video evidence of him bragging about sexually assaulting a woman his political career would be over. The driver seemed fascinated by this. Again he agreed with me that nothing would get done during Trump’s administration and that all the blue collar and coloured folk who voted for him because he promises change are in for a shock.
Earlier that night I’d taken a packet of floor drugs I determined to be speed and chucked it into my rum and coke. Considering I’d smashed about 50mg of Adderall throughout the day I was still feeling wired by the time we got back to the hostel for about 7am. I didn’t sleep, but was aware that I was going to be tripping later that day. I’ve always had an air of respect for acid and that respect means to only take it in environments that are safe, with people I feel comfortable with and with a well-rested mind. The first 2 I had down and I had enough Adderall to keep me alert so what could possibly go wrong?
With my appetite still non existent all I was able to shovel down me was a selection of fruits I’d bought the day before. My cold was still very much in full effect and guts were still feeling tender so I was also still popping Imodium and Dayquil whenever I could. I still also had a few Tinder matches who were also going to the festival, but having no active Wi-Fi and obviously having no data on my phone meeting anyone there would have been nearly impossible.
A lot of what we wanted to see today was on the Green stage that we hadn’t visited at all the day before, it was another outdoor stage adjacent to the main building. The only issue with the Sunday however was after that rain hit the previous night it completely washed away the humidity in the air and the temperature was now a very chilly 8 Celsius, a stark reminder that it was indeed Christmas next week. This gave the festival an entire different feel as the crowd was all zipped up in winter coats wearing gloves and hats.
The crowd of DfN does deserve its own mention. Despite getting your obvious festival going crowd you can set your watch to there was also older couples in their 50’s and 60’s in attendance, as well as some families, racially it was also a lot more mixed then what you’d expect even in London. Then your usual music sub cultures but something I’d never really seen before and that was people I’d consider to be totaly ‘alternative’. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot for sub cultures, when in truth every goth, raver, punk or whatever all look the same. They may be alternative in the small town they come from but in reality they aint fooling anyone. I saw some people at DfN that really made me think ‘wow! You look like an alien, well done!’ One person in particular who’s gender I couldn’t even take a guess at. with their bright pink hair, skin powdered to glow white, fully blue contact lenses and get up that I cant even describe were just one of the many that made me think ‘you’ve certainly achieved individualism there’
I tried to find Adam, my Bangface buddy from Detroit but without a phone was unable to know that he was running late to meet us at our rendezvous point. This weren’t such a problem as Ariel Pink was due on in 10 minutes and I now had an extra beer to drink. By this point the acid was about to take effect and Ariel Pink was playing a funky set of entirely new material that left the audience a bit bewildered. Summed up entirely by a confused looking young black lad behind me who as soon as the set finished announced ‘Man, I own all that dudes records and I didn’t recognize one of those songs…. Was cool though’
Right up next was Lightning Bolt, my favourite live speedcore/scream act. Despite the cold winter afternoon we gave the lead drummer/singer only a few tracks till he was stripped down to the bare chest. As they were setting up we got chatting to this cute Californian lad who’d ventured cross-country to the festival on his own. He was impressed by mine and Nag’s experience of seeing all these bands previously and how being from London I had some knowledge of our underground party scene, he gave me an Aderral in exchange for a fag, told me it’s easy enough to just order them off the internet over there. I wonder how much an epidemic that stuff will end up being? I’d been in the States less then a week and already I’d found myself turning into a little pill popper.
Lighting Bolt were the absolute bollocks and the mosh pits down the front were testament to this. One fella in particular went crowd surfing in a cardboard box. Sure enough your man was down to the bare skin half way through the set and the steam was rising off him in no time and they closed their wicked set with old favourite ‘Dracula Mountain’… The evening was setting in by this point and the cold was creeping into our bones. Just as Lightning Bolt finished Chris found us again, this time with another tab of acid in his hand which he gave to me assuring me of it’s strength. I blame the lack of sleep and Buckfast for breakfast for my lack of judgment so I sucked down the tab without question
As it was too cold to stay outside we went into the main arena’s Blue Stage to watch Mikki Blyanko – a trans MC who neither of us knew anything about. What we were treated to was a piece of rowdy, queer performance art that completely blew the audience away. They was climbing up the concrete pillars, stripping off and chucking their shoes into the crowd, all whilst belting out rude and rowdy, dirty RNB and Hip-hop numbers. I was tripping balls by this point and that helped reach a peak immensely.
Fancying a piss and beer I headed with Geoff and Nag’s outside where the ques were minimal. I remember on our walk passing the main stage where some latino act was playing a sultry number on the Spanish Guitar which just felt completely out of place considering how cold it was now. What I also noticed was that I was absolutely soaring on that groovy piece of California Sunshine, so much so I told the boys that all simple functions such as going into my pockets to take out cigarettes and even light them was now well beyond me. With every step I took it felt like my body was changing from solid, to liquid then to gas. Sticking my hand into my pocket was like feeling around in a different dimension. I also found myself in that common situation of going to the toilet needing a piss only to question whether I genuinely needed one once I got there. However I used a cognitive method of repeating the phrase ‘I’m pissing tripping in a Texan toilet’ over and over again in my head until I literally pissed myself laughing.
We made our way back in for Liars and instantly I noticed how much busier it was inside then the previous day, I can only assume this was because of the weather.
Geoff was coming up hard on a pill he’d been given so was excited to jump around the place. Before hand he was entertaining me and Nags immensely acting like the exact trademark of someone who had never really done pills properly before. We made our way in for Liars and wading through the crowd felt like I was swimming in bath of syrup. Considering my state I was in no mood to get stuck in, those boys were however and we’d agreed to meet next to something in particular. It was only later when I realized that the set had finished and I’d gone off on some introspective tangent in my mind I suddenly thought ‘hold on? Where did they say we’d meet?’ Seeing as Bjork was starting up next the Blue stage was getting busier by the minute and I felt like I was going to drown in the sea o people. I thought to myself that I’d swim my way out of the building, recalibrate a bit and decide what my best plan of action was to do next, by this point that second trip was hitting me and I was now soaring higher then I had done for years. It’s funny because after my summer of tripping at near enough every festival I’d attended, I was about to arrive at the conclusion that I’d seen everything there was too see on acid. This evening was about to prove that wrong.
As I walked outside of the main venue I noticed my surroundings seemed a lot more run down, and felt that the swarms of people around me were staring at me laughing and all I could here from them were sounds of ‘excuse me sir, you’re not from around here are you?’ I looked up at that dominating Houston skyline and panicked as I thought I’d wondered out of the festival and onto the busy streets of Houston….
It was a panic so intense that it made all time and sound completely slow down and the world looked as if it turned on it’s axis. I think if I didn’t compose myself there and then with a deep breath I probably would have passed out. All that was running through my mind was that I was currently higher then the sun in a city thousands of miles away from home with absolutely no way of contacting my friends. I found myself able to walk to the Green stage and knew that the entrance there was one that we’d used on many occasions, mostly for fag breaks throughout the weekend. I tried one more go of having a look for this illusive meeting point inside but the result was too terrifying. The inside of the building was so darkly lit it was hard to find people at the best of times let alone tripping and feeling like everybody inside was disgusted by me.
I’d conceded that I was lost and would have to wait to be found and this particular point next to the exit and next to the stage where we’d eventually be watching Butthole Surfers was my best bet. My train of thought was no longer words but just a series of symbols and hieroglyphics. It was also too cold to be hanging around without moving and I still couldn’t even comprehend putting my hands in my pocket to pull out a snout to smoke and asking a complete stranger was off the cards as I thought I may just burst into tears and have a breakdown. I couldn’t even ask to borrow a phone to try and call a North American friend. I wasn’t able to think in words and when I did pull my phone out of my pocket I couldn’t even remember my passcode to look at my contacts… and my passcode is my birthday.
What did keep me from collapsing in the fetal position though was watching a huge, hairy Texan man with a fag pursed between the tooth full grin on his face, pirouetting in the middle of a clearing on his own to the sound of Shaggy’s ‘It wasn’t me’ being played on the PA. Just the site of that alone made me think ‘Well if you’re having a good time then I might aswell be!’
I went for one more scout of the area in the hopes of finding someone before returning to the lost child section. Then as I reached the top of the stairs leading to the main stage, there was Nags, hands aloft at the bottom of the flight of stairs ‘O my God!’ he shouted. ‘It’s my boy!’ I called back. Then just like that my thoughts returned from patterns to words and all my worries just faded away.
Turns out that during a quick trip to the bar the Blue stage inside had filled with people eager to see Bjork. Nags was essentially in the same position I was, but was more concerned he wouldn’t find me knowing the state I was in. Just happened he was making his way back from the food court to come check around the green stage when we happened to bump into each other. We went to watch a bit of Squarepusher on the Red stage as he was playing Breakcore and not some wanky side project like I’ve seen him do recently, but again the problem was it was just too cold to stand and spectate. We decided we’d watch Unknown Mortal Orchestra on the Green stage then get a good position for the Butthole Surfers once they’d finished.
For a Sunday evening set with an audience filled with families and two reunited friends, one in particular who’d just had a challenging time with over indulgence in psychedelics, UMO’s soulful, crowd friendly music was just what I needed to sooth myself into an easy burn out. The visuals that were once blinding me were starting to tone down slightly and my conversation powers were also dwindling. Losing the power of speech mid talk with nags. We’d secure ourselves a prime spot for Butthole Surfers and chatted away to people next to us, declaring to everyone that this was the band that made us book the ticket! ‘This is it! This is why we’re here!’
After much anticipation and impatience from a lot of the crowd, arriving almost an hour late Gibby Haynes and the rest of the gang took to the stage and delivered one of the worst live performances I have ever seen. I can forgive how late they were. I can forgive how terrible they looked, and I can forgive a ram shackle, terrible performance as long as its loud – that punk. Although it may not have been their fault the sound just weren’t loud enough. Which was a shame considering how perfect the sound levels had been for the rest of the weekend. Don’t get me wrong the set was filled with hits and a magic moment where I think it was during Pepper me and Nags looked at each other in unison to sing the chorus to each other. Then during ‘Who was in my room last night’ I saw Gibby Haynes vomit the lyrics to the chorus which really made me laugh. There was other moments were the ludicrous lyrics of their songs really struck a chord with me and made me laugh hysterically. As the set went on I noticed there was a surge of people come in from behind and all of a sudden we were all pretty squished and that got me on edge…
The rest of the evening was somewhat of a blur. I remember the gig ending and people being very pissed off by the performance, then my mind just went and I felt like something horrible had happened and I lost all power of speech and couldn’t process any thoughts. Nags was able to get us out of the festival and into a taxi back to the hostel, where I noticed he was being nothing but really nice to me, asking if I wanted anything to eat, making sure I had plenty of water, asking me where I kept my Xanax that I was unable to obtain earlier in the day, then helping me into bed. His kindness made me realize how nice it is to have someone by your side at times like this, infact the entire holiday it was great to have Nags around. He’s got a pure passion and knowledge for the music on offer and is always up for doing shit in general. When you’re on the verge of becoming a total mental patient, it takes pure acts of humanity such as his to realize who you’re best friends are in life. His loyalty and care at time is a memory that I will cherish.
As my mind starter to mellow and I was beginning to arrive back to earth and knew from experience that if I was just to stare at the ceiling I would eventually go into a trance and my mind would shut off into something resembling sleep.
I awoke the next morning feeling pretty refreshed. There was a text on my phone from both Adam and Angie inviting me to breakfast. Typically it appeared that on my last day in Texas I think I may have finally found my appetite.
We said our goodbyes to Chris and Geoff, it was fun to have them on board. I’d only met Christ that summer on a few occasions but had always had a good idea of his character as Deirdre would often talk about him and he is a nice guy with a genuine heart and a lot of good ideas. It was also a pleasure to have Geoff along for the knee’s up. Is always nice to have someone on board who never really gets exposed to huge festivals and stuff and I think this was a perfect one for him to add to his collection. A hilarious drunken character I was charmed by him. I really hope we can all do something like this again soon.
Adam picked us up from the hostel and we made our way downtown for some breakfast which very quickly turned into a day drinking session. Angie and her friend were due on a plane that afternoon so we stayed with them drinking at the hotel bar until their shuttle arrived. We said our goodbyes and I warned Angie not to give me open invites to visit her in Milwaukee as I’m prone to just showing up on peoples doorsteps. We then searched for a good day drinking dive bar and ended up in this well decorated joint and was served by a barmaid with a black eye. I got talking to a couple of young Texan lads sat next to me at the bar. Mostly about soccer and how this chap in particular felt the Beckham effect on MLS 10 years ago had ruined it, brought too much money into it. His mate got the award for ‘Texan who was most fascinated by us being British’ and he made smile when he asked rather sheepishly ‘Ya’ll don’t mind if I just ask a bunch of questions? Just I don’t get to meet many British people round here’ then proceeded to ask how accurate Guy Ritchie movies were as well as how the channel tunnel worked.
Adam was a pleasure to day drink with. It’s funny because when I went looking for him whilst tripping I was asked what he looked like, when I met him at Bangface my description of ‘he looks like a very American man’ would have made sense but obviously in the country itself that accounts for nothing. He has a superb tone to his voice with a sense of humor as dry as a bar peanut and as black as a pint Guinness. As we stumbled out of the pub in search of the car to drive us back to the hostel he realized he’d been toed. Nags and me tried to conceal our laughter but the situation of a man drunkenly trying to call the towing company to find his impounded car was as hilarious as the two of us traveling 5,000 miles to see a band who ended up being the worst part of the holiday. He booked us an uber back and unfortunately we never got to see him before leaving to get another few drinks in with him. He is at the weekender though so will be a pleasure to serve with him once more in good time.
That night we each had our own plans. In a fortunate turn of events the bird Nags had a dud date with turned out to be pretty keen and invited him over on a promise. I decided I’d hit the town once more as a lone wolf and see what I could find. First port of call being Lola’s which was a lot more subdued then our previous visits. I swallowed a couple of Lone Stars down my neck and reminisced on the eventful week we’d had:
The locals whose hospitality transcended friendliness and felt like genuine friendship from the first conversation. How our plan of having a subdued holiday with no drink or drugs turned into being an endless bender where I almost lost my mind and even at one point resorted to sticking 2 Adderall up my arse so as to bypass upsetting my delicate, hung over stomach. Being a rare commodity on Tinder was a nice touch. It’s long been a saying that American women love British men. Angie told me it was a mix of the accent and the vocabulary… Well my accent is horrible and my grasp of the language itself is so bastardised I cant really back this theory but it seemed to work. I was making several matches on Tinder a day and unlike back home where the birds I match with resemble a dump truck the majority of mutual left swipes in Huston were from genuine hard bodies. I did have a pause for thought at one point though whilst alternating between 4 different open conversations, contemplating which one was probably worth putting more effort into that I wondered what did we use to do before Tinder? More specifically the thought of chatting up birds at a bar unsolicited just seemed all to foreign now. I guess that can be considered a pro for social technological advancements like Tinder, it breaks down the walls of expectation and evaporates any chance of me and Nags having to wonder different bars in Houston awkwardly trying to grab the attention of the birds that frequent only to end up bothering them. Granted I did set off to Texas with the expectation of getting laid but came away not being particularly bothered that I didn’t. We were too busy having too much fun doing other stuff and anyway it’s only pussy after all.
The festival itself was well worth the pilgrimage alone. If the people who organize Day for Night can pull out an eclectic lineup similar to 2016 again then it’s definitely on my radar for 2017. Unfortunately the next one looks to be in a different venue as the post office venue is to be knocked down and built upon. Regardless I have faith they’ll put on a great party. They’ve come up with an excellent concept and executed it like total pro’s to the point where they potentially have an event that will put Houston on the cultural map and maybe even rival its cool Austin neighbor. But I guess my main highlight was falling in love with the city of Houston. Before I came I was speaking to a bird from San Antonio, which is a nearby city, and she told me that Houston was always considered a pretty boring city, just a corporate oil town with nothing going on. To the untrained eye this is probably true but its complete lack of tourism is what I liked the most about it. It’s just a functioning city filled with genuine people which can now boast a pretty badass festival to boot. ‘Houston we have a solution’
After a few beers and bit of small talk with the locals I started to feel feverish. I walked to the bar to order another beer but thought I best call in my tab once I felt the colour drain from my face. Unfortunately I couldn’t thank the barmen for their wonderful hospitality and promise them a visit again in the near future as I could feel my guts turn to liquid and felt like they weren’t going to stay put for long. I fell out the door into the near freezing night but still managed to break out into a sweat. My gluten’s week of beer and prescription pills with very little food was beginning to back fire and I had to make a be line behind someone garage to drop my kecks and spray the dry leaves underneath me. Feeling the colour come back into me, I though I’d stop by our other favourite haunt at Avante Garden. Again it was pretty empty and I could barely force the beer I ordered down me. So I apologized to the barman and made my way back to bed, which was probably the best place for me after the week I’d had.
With heavy hearts we left the following day but not without a great feeling of fondness for a wonderful city in a huge state in a unique country. The geezer in charge says he wants to make America great again… It already seems pretty great to me.