Oslo
The bus brings us into town. This is not the Oslo I remember. It’s all gleaming towers in the downtown American fashion. Half this stuff wasn’t built in the early ‘90s when we were last here for some promo nonsense. But it’s a relief to be in an urban environment. The old brick and granite buildings are redolent of San Francisco. It has the feel of a major capital, solid and monumental. I hop off at the venue and find a street food court, long benches with QR codes on the tables surrounded by scores of purveyors. I opt for a Bibim Bap at a Korean stall. I head in any old direction down a busy thoroughfare; cafés, bars, falafel joints, clothes shops, veg stalls and halal butchers. It’s more multi-ethnic than I might have ignorantly predicted. There are a few panhandlers and I pass
a man slouched in a doorway under his jacket with a tourniquet around his arm. Every now and then I look down a long street to see green pine covered hills in the distance. It’s mild with a gentle spit of rain and I wander lazily in half a dream. I pop into a cookware emporium and buy some earthenware coffee mugs and a corkscrew to replace the one on the bus that decapitated itself while opening a beer. Metal fatigue had set in from overuse. I wonder if the same happens to headbangers.
I bump into the Whitmore sisters at the bus and they kindly escort me to the stage door. It’s eerily quiet in the venue as there is a sound curfew before 5PM. Chris Masterson sits on a banquette plucking at a hollow body electric, making the thin, needling noise of an unamplfied guitar. I drink some Pepsi to pep myself up. I do a quick crossword on my phone. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The promoter gives us meal tickets for a Middle Eastern restaurant round the corner from the venue and unusually we all eat together, a good thing for morale sometimes. Not that morale is low — the bus is luxurious and the dressing rooms mainly spacious and well stocked. Tonight our room makes Andy think of a tiny apartment in Hong Kong with its partition walls, tiles and high strip light. It could be a set for a brothel in a Hollywood film about the Vietnam war. After the food I walk into the rain. A few fans say hello from under their umbrellas. I venture into an upmarket arcade and take a chair outside a closed café. I can hear the rain battering on the glass skylights making a sound like radio interference. The arcade features two large sculptures, one (by Mark Quinn) depicting a candle-wax-white Kate Moss in an extreme yoga position, thrusting her crotch to the fore. The other is just a very tall woman in shorts and high heels. She looks wary like a giraffe who has wandered into town. I feel sorry for her. The little folk around her are making her nervous. It’s by Sean Henry and it’s called Woman (Being Looked At).
It’s a funny sounding gig with a very dead stage and with my in-ear monitoring I feel remote from the small crowd a metre away. I see a field of upturned faces with shining eyes. There are a few clappers and jiggers lending encouragement. Most folk seem to be smiling. There’s something absurd about us being here, a Monday night in Oslo, playing these 30 year old songs. How did we all get here? There wasn’t a plan. For me it’s a temporary respite from the hopelessness of the future. I hope it might be for others too.
Dear Justin. I have been a great fan and admirer of your songs and lyrics nearly a «lifetime». It started with «Kiss this thing goodbye» in 1989. I was then 18 years old. Today I am 54. The last weeks I have heard «Missing person» every day in my car on the way to work. I am a documentary filmmaker in Norway. This is the first time I have checked your website. Last week I bought a copy of your book. I was very upset reading the text about the book – where you were open about the disease. I am really looking forward to read it – when it arrives here in the south part of Norway. MY VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION IS:
Will you have a concert in UK or – preferably Glasgow – this year? It will be a dream come true to attend one of your live gigs. All the very, very best from Erik in Norway
It was indeed fun for the audience!! Great show!
The Dels’s shows are indeed a respite from dod dering old age and despair! Can’t wait for next
year and another US tour!