[Singer-keyboardist-tour diarist Morgan Kibby checks in from the U.K. segment of M83’s tour; previous chapters can be found here:]
Chapter 20: Not even a full 24 hours in L.A., and we were off again to England to join the Kings of Leon.” I am bummed my camera was stolen for obvious reasons, but mostly because I had a great photo essay of all the penises that so brightly festooned the walls of every single dressing room in every single venue in every single state. What phallic creativity! Naturally you start off appalled and gradually you end up looking forward to your daily dose of artistic cock as you grab a coffee and wait for sound check. Anywho, we are back in a van for this U.K. tour, and I find myself mentally preparing for daytripping, booing, bottle-throwing and general struggle. Opening slots can either be a boon or a disaster, and though I absolutely love the fact that the Kings are fans of M83’s music, I’m a little wary of their fans, as their music is so incredibly different from ours.
The first couple shows passed without incident (i.e. only slight heckling), and the Kings were a bit shy on the hellos (as were we), but watching them onstage, you understand why they are exploding. I slip away every show for about a half hour on my own to watch them. It’s been hitting me what’s possible: The scope, the stakes and the passion of these shows are incredibly inspiring.” And although we finally did receive the requisite beer-on-head in Glasgow, witnessing a tour like this gives us something pretty impressive to work towards.
Last Thursday found us playing the O2 Arena. What to say?” You dream of these moments, and as we all fanned out to spin in circles while taking in the scope of the bleachers and the ceiling, I laughed at such a cinematic moment, so desperate for girl-meets-world type soundtrack. To celebrate the moment, I was lucky enough to have Eva (from Paris adventures) in town.” She immediately convinced me and Lotje to hop in a cab with her after the show and head to a party at 1 a.m.” And oh, what a party. Take every long and bad steady cam shot of a typical loft party from a typical indie film, and this was where we ended up: models in leopard jumpsuits and feathers caressing their passed-out mate on a misplaced mattress in a basement, a prepster in cardigan and loafers smoking a cigarette through a black ivory filter, tiny mustachioed hipsters passed out with beer bottles in hand, a group of vagabonds toiling over a Chopin Mazurka on the baby grand covered and filled with empty cigarette packages and blotted lipstick napkins. … I could go on forever. It was amazing. We danced, we drank from little airplane vodka bottles that magically appeared and we did a line dance with a host of people on a freight cart.
I wonder if I would do any of this if I were home. We’re all getting tired. We’re all ready to go back to our beds and our lovers’ waiting arms, but living moments like this reminds me to enjoy every single second of this adventure.” I wish the KOL audiences were a bit warmer, but we are headlining tomorrow and it should be nice to get in front of people who know the music. It’s in a church, so, thankfully, no beer bottles to be thrown.
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