Telluride is a rare jewel of a town nestled in the Colorado mountains. At 2,66m above sea level, the air is thin and takes some getting used to as we discovered every time we stood up too quickly. The residents live a carefree and happy existence spending their winters skiing and their summers pursuing a multitude of outdoor activities. If you live in Telluride, life is good. People leave doors unlocked and everyone seems to know each other. We’ve been lucky enough to be invited to this magical utopia for the last three years to play the Ride Festival – a beautiful gathering, now in its sixth year. Telluride has embraced us and we’re delighted with this happy union. This years trip was brilliant and deserving of its own entry into the tour diary of which I have become sadly negligent of late. We’ve spent more time at home with our families this year. We needed a break. It felt like we’d been touring constantly, have faced a few issues and were feeling a bit burned out. The best thing for us was to step back from touring, give ourselves some breathing space to regroup and focus on making album 3. This done, we embarked on our trip to Telluride with renewed vigour and a stable of new tunes to unleash.

Getting to Telluride involves 3 separate flights and a further drive up into the mountains. By the time we arrived, we were in a light headed delirium of jet lagged excitement. We’d been told that Beck would be playing a show in the local high school theatre. Despite almost hallucinating with fatigue, we couldn’t miss out on this opportunity so, after a dip in the hotel hot tub and a quick bite, we walked to the high school conveniently located next door to our hotel and danced to “Devils Haircut”, “Loser” and “Sexx Laws” until the room started spinning and we had to go to bed. I was up before the sun the next morning. This was a general theme throughout our stay in Telluride, for me at least. Regardless of what time I went to bed, my eyes would spring open at the crack of dawn and I’d have hours to wait before breakfast started. On the third morning, for example, I woke up, showered, made a cup of tea, updated our website, had breakfast, took a gondola over the mountain to the Mountain Village and was in a yoga class by 8.00am feeling like a superhero. This was even after drinking beer, espresso martinis and several tequilas the night before. It must be the clean mountain air!

It’s a rare occurrence that we all engage in an activity together but we managed it in Telluride. We hired inner-tubes and floated along a fast moving stream of icy meltwater from the mountain peaks like human pooh-sticks (to those wondering what the pooh-sticks are, it’s not what it sounds like!) To describe them as Rapids might be a bit of an exaggeration but it got pretty exciting at points. The hard part was getting out before being carried miles out of town and having to walk all the way back. Phil managed to fall out of his tube into the testicle shrinking icy water and endured a cold, shivery walk back to the hotel.

It wasn’t all fun and games in the mountains. We also had to get down to the serious (ahem!) business of being The Temperance Movement. Our first of two performances was a late show in the Sheridan Opera House, a 250 capacity venue in the middle of Telluride. There was a buzz in town about this gig presumably due to our previous visit. It had sold out and when we arrived at the venue there was a long line of people forming. After what has been a turbulent period for the band, what we experienced at the Opera House that night was joyous. It reminded us of why we do this. We’ve all made a big commitment to this band and it’s not always been easy. there have been some tricky times to navigate but when we find ourselves in a room full of people loving what we do and who are willing us to succeed, it strengthens our resolve and makes it all worth it. Thank you to everyone in the room that night, it was a special moment.

The next day we played the main stage at the festival. The Ride festival stage must have the best backdrop in the world. Snow capped mountains and a 300ft waterfall under cobalt skies. The whole scene looks like it’s been put through an instagram filter. It’s unreal! The gig was great. A different beast than the night before. A small dark room vs a vast expanse of space in daylight makes for a less intense experience but no less enjoyable. It was the perfect day – A rock’n’roll show in an incredible setting, a diet of fish tacos and tequila and a soundtrack provided by Beck who closed the festival. As the sun set behind the mountains and the new moon rose in the sky, we danced and drank with new friends.

Thank you Telluride, the future is bright!  – Nick

So the boys have played four shows now. Strasbourg and Nancy were warm ups. By Lille we started getting better but last night in Paris, we hit our stride. Paris has always been a hard gig. Like London or New York, its easy to lose your cool or at least be tempted to. We didn’t.

Simon Lea is settling in well. Things to know about Simon: he’s a Londoner, from Streatham. He’s played drums with Ronnie Wood, James Blunt, Boy George, Seth Lakeman and Rizzlekicks. His last gig before this was the Bowie musical, ‘Lazarus’. He’s a runner. Does 6 miles every day before breakfast. He’s a straight talker and he don’t stand for no bullshit. He’s very funny and slips in and out of a husky voiced cockney caricature, developed over time on the road for is own amusement. He records every single rehearsal and gig he plays on a little dictaphone and listens to it in the van the next day. He could quite happily talk self-improvement with Lorraine Kelly over a blueberry acai refresher, or share a pint with Ricky Gervaise, laughing about the non-existence of atheism today. In short, he’s one of us.

Touring can, at times, be incredibly tedious. Seemingly endless hours of driving, followed by hours of hanging around at venues. It’s the thing that all bands moan about but is unavoidable unless you’ve reached the upper echelons of rock royalty. We’re nowhere near there yet. I’d say we’re probably court jesters!

Other than the shows themselves which account for about 5% of the time, tours are punctuated by unexpected moments which stick in your mind and form the memories you have of the tour. You forget the travelling and the hanging around and remember instead these sometimes bizzare events or golden nuggets of fun. For me, these have previously included playing midnight frisbee whilst drinking peach moonshine in Wilmington, North Carolina after an evening of shuffleboard, or watching two million bats fly out from under Congress Avenue Bridge in Austin, Texas or watching in helpless horror as our van slowly rolled off the jack as we attempted to change a wheel in the middle of the night by the side of a Texas freeway. These are the things we’ll tell our children about – (not that I’ll be encouraging mine to drink moonshine!)

Yesterday we had a moment that I’ll forever look back on fondly. We were in Destin, Florida. After soundcheck, we jumped in the van and headed for the beach with our beloved frisbee to catch the last of the days sun. The beach was made of the whitest sand I’ve ever seen. It was so fine, it squeaked underfoot. The sun was setting and the sea was so inviting that Phil Campbell could resist no longer. Stripped to his underpants, he led the charge with a bellowing shout like William Wallace on his summer holidays. Big Willy Taylor (our heavily tattooed tour manager) and Paul Sayer were next (wearing actual swimming shorts) followed by myself (not wearing actual swimming shorts). The sea was bath warm and we crashed through the waves like over excited children on too much fizzy pop. It was half an hour of total release and a shot of morale boosting fun when we needed it most. It didn’t matter that we’d been told of bull sharks earlier in the day by the dude at the beachside taco hut or that dusk is generally when sharks hunt. We were having way too much fun to worry about losing a leg to those toothy killjoys. Matt and Damon sensibly watched the rest of us idiots frolick about at shark dinner time from the safety of the beach. I did notice , however, that as we exited the sea, no-one else was swimming!

So we’re now on our way to Athens, Georgia to rejoin with our friends, The Revivalists. Only two more shows to go and we’ll be heading back home for some much needed time with our families after seven weeks away. They are the true heroes of this whole operation and should be recognised as such for their patience and support. Girls – If it was me who decided the honours list, you’d all receive knighthoods for being spectacularly amazing!

Athens and Nashville, here we come!

– Nick

It is Nick Fyffe’s birthday. Nick’s been hanging around with the Temperance Movement for years now.

He got us our first proper grown up gig at the Albert Hall in London and got his mate Jamie Oliver to Tweet about the band’s first album release.

His dedicated gathering and saving of contact details ensures fluid passage through airports, hook ups at high end shoe stores and video productions by New York artist friends.

He has documented the whole story all the way along by Lyca camera iPhone and GoPro so now no matter where you tread on the stage there’s a camera to capture it…

He also plays bass. Very well. I mean I know. It’s quite a skill to not play a bum note when the singer keeps hitting your headstock with his tambourine. You want to hear The Sludge. It’s my favourite thing he plays just now.

Watched him recently from my seat in the back driving us through rain and failing light and I thought, man, he’s brilliant. What an excellent guy to be in a band with.

We all celebrate with the man today… Ladies and gentlemen… Everybody’s favourite break-dancing Pirate…

….NICK FYFFE !!!

Happy birthday pal.

With love,

The Temperance Movement and everyone else who loves the bones of ye… X

So we’re back in the South and its a beautiful day as we head from Atlanta to Charlotte. All the time we were here with Blackberry Smoke, we didn’t actually play Atlanta. I personally know some people from Atlanta and I have been to the city before. It was 2010, the year before I met the band and I played a few songs in a bar in Decatur one night and I tried my luck at Eddie’s Attic the next. It was very sweet.

Hearing that drawl again as I spoke to some folks last night took me back to last spring and my heart was glad for it. This part of the country has a unique lush beauty so we’re getting to see some amazing sights on our drive here today and I think after 6 weeks we’re feeling very thankful to have all we have today.

I know I am. Eddie’s Attic ran a big open mic competition. I just happened to be in town on the right night. I sang some songs from Daddy’s Table plus something on piano that was new at the time. I got through to the finals but came second to a very much better three piece. I kept it down but I was devastated I didn’t win. At that time I was devastated in a much larger sense that I really wasn’t winning as a solo artist at all. After 15 years and 3 record deals in London, I had moved back to Glasgow and shortly after that American trip I was ready to pack it in.

In the six years that have passed my life has changed in ways I could never have believed in 2010. Now when I take the stage I’ve got The Temperance Movement behind me and I never feel like I did at Eddie’s Attic. Never. I take much pride in the solo records I made. I got on TV. I toured with some great people. I worked with many brilliant musicians and producers. I’d love to play those songs again and I probably will too. And when I do it’ll be great and great for one reason: The Temperance Movement. As much as I thought I knew before it, most of what I know now about music, I’ve learned from The Temp in the five years we’ve been touring.

American touring has been a big part of that. I’ve declared my love for the State-side road here many times. If a UK band gets a chance to do it, it’ll change that band forever. And I’m not even talking about success. I’m taking about experience. The reality of touring. Together all the time. Long journey times. 50 shows. 100 shows. Keeping the energy up. Hitting the stage big every night. Missing home. Hearing strain on the end of the phone. Feeling helpless to do much about it but listen. Gambling life in today’s casino style music business…

You may have had to listen to this kind of thing from me recently after a show. Perhaps I’ve been spilling over the brim a little. Dashing a fresh fan’s excitement that we’re even in their town with brooding conversation about cost of plane tickets and such. Sorry if that was you. I feel quite at home here. North, South, East, West. I feel like I can just blab to people like I do at home. Its a good thing really.

Last night was also awesome it has to be said. I am proud that we got to play that legendary room before it gets closed. The folks who came to Masquerade really welcomed us and danced and dug what we did. A few boys from Blackberry Smoke came down. Richard Turner burst into our dressing room 5 mins before we went on, said hey and split. Rock star. Brandon, Eric, Thumper… great to see you guys. Thank you also to The 68-75’s for opening the show. Everybody rocked the shit out of it last night. No doubt.

Tonight we’re at The Underground in Charlotte, on stage at 9pm.
See you if you’re there.

Peace out,

Phil x

We’ve hit the south. Everywhere seems a little warmer and more laid back, and the southern hospitality has definitely shown itself to be true. Folk are intent on welcoming us and chatting about anything and nothing just to pass the time of day. We call it shooting the shit back at home, I’m sure it’s an Americanism that we have adopted but it nails the vibe round these parts perfectly.

Our Louisville gig was full of friendly folk, many whom have been to see us on previous support tours. Our support band, The Hot Wires, are a cool bunch and quite possibly the loudest support we’ve had so far. Shades of early QOTSA, cool stuff. We showed up and ripped out a blinder, throwing in a new tune that we’ve been road testing (The Sludge) and having a grand old time on a wicked sounding stage.

The following day was a day off which our intrepid tour manager, Will, had arranged to happen in Nashville. A stroke of genius. We rolled into town at midday and immediately set out to sift through the local vintage guitar shops. Carter vintage guitars proved particularly fruitful and I had to tear myself away before my actions necessitated a second mortgage on my London flat. I bought a key ring instead.

Paul had been emailing Nashville guitarist Audley Freed and he tipped us off on a local gig so after a quick stop at Roberts Western World (AMAZING), we found ourselves hanging with Audley at the 12th South taproom absorbing the aural delights of Kenny Vaughan. Kenny is a local guitar legend who plays like a cross between Roy Buchanan, Dick Dale and Scotty Moore, and looks like a long lost member of The Ramones. He tore it up leaving Paul and myself with our jaws on the floor and crying into our pale ale. We found out Kenny was 62 and consoled ourselves with the fact that we’ve still got 30 years to practice. If we ever get out of this bloody van…

On to Atlanta….

Great show last night at Castle Theatre in Bloomington, IL. Thank you to everyone who came out to see the band. Old theatre style venues are my favourite. Big thanks to Bruce and Eric and the crew there for helping out. We’re over half way through this tour now and we’ve got a little swagger in our step.

Stage show was pretty wild. I didn’t eat much yesterday. Just totally forgot to so 20 mins before stage time, I panicked and thought oh shit I’m a bit hungry, I wont make it to the end to the end of the gig. Completely ridiculous, but this is my head.

It’s amazing how much you can get out of your body when you’re hungry. Especially if you’ve been clever and ordered some food for after the show. Knowing there’s a burger and fries waiting in the dressing room makes it much easier to sing Get yourself Free. In my case last night I had some corn chowder with a little tortellini bobbin’ around in it. Bit twatty? Sure. But the only other option was Mexican and you should never eat Mexican after midnight. Everyone knows that…

Which reminds me, thank you Cheryl Swift for bringing the band two boxes of blueberry muffins, cookies and treats. I just sank two of them five minutes ago, so no more starving artists. I love our fans. I met some of my favourite Illinois people last night and shared some memories, like the time we pulled into Springfield and someone opens the van door to a bedazzled and quite cold rock n roll band, saying… ‘Hey fellas… d’ya want some barbecue?’

Peace and love

Phil x

Having hours to kill on the road always turns my mind to tattoos. Namely getting more of them out onto my body. It’s a tricky balance choosing new ink. What artwork & where? What does that artwork mean? Can I afford it? What will my wife & kids think?

But possibly the biggest decision is who am I going to get actually do it? Choosing an artist is crucial. I’ve learnt that it’s a very personal experience having someone tattoo you. It should be a moment that you look back on with fondness. A couple of my tattoos weren’t like that & I regret that. There was no connection between the artist & me. But isn’t that kind of the point of getting ink? To one day regret them?

One of my favourite tattoo experiences happened with an amazing Maori artist called Kai. He doesn’t work out of a studio so we met in his squat in Kings Cross London. For those of you who don’t know the word a ‘squat’ is a house or flat which is illegally occupied. I guess you might call it a doss house here in the States.

I don’t mind admitting I wasn’t scared. I was terrified. There were mattresses on the floor & broken windows & people screaming at each other up the hall. It really was like something from a movie. And not a romantic comedy.

Kai’s got all his stuff neatly laid out on a sheet on a table & is acting very much like someone who’s ready to inject ink onto my body. I start mumbling all the excuses I can think of for why I need to leave.

‘I have to get to a gig.’
‘I left the oven on at home.’
‘I forgot to feed the cat…..’
Kai just bows his head & starts to pray.
I wanted to know what he was doing so I asked him
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m praying to my ancestors to be with your ancestors. I want them to explain what we’re doing here. I want to let them know that you’ll be fine & no harm will come to you in this place.’

It was possibly the most calming thing anyone has ever said to me.
He genuinely meant it & it worked.
Instantly I knew that everything was going to be OK. Two hours later he was burying the bloodied tissues in the garden out back & saying some more prayers. And even though my arm throbbed I was completely elated.

That Kai is one very cool fucker.

I don’t really think of myself as a tattoo person. Whatever that is. Phil has a couple & maybe one day we’ll go get one together. Folks with ink come in all shapes & sizes. I like that about tattoos. A pal of mine likes to wind me up by calling them Tough Stickers. Maybe he’s right. Funny the stuff you end up thinking about in the back of the van.

– Damon

There’s been an absence of tour diaries from me recently. I apologise. This is because I recently discovered the “serial” podcast and any time spent in the van when I usually write a diary entry has instead been spent engrossed in the case of Adnan Syed. For those who don’t know, “Serial” investigates the case of a murdered teenager in a Detroit suburb 16 years ago. The crime gets pinned on the girls ex-boyfriend (Adnan) but there are holes in the case and many believe that he was wrongly accused. It’s been a brilliant way to kill a long journey. Just as I finished the last episode, we arrived in Baltimore, where it all happened. Spider – or Spidros as we call him (Real name – Stewart) had also listened to it and, as we drove into Baltimore, discovered that there were tours of all the locations discussed in the story. Had we had a day off today, we would have jumped on it but, like travelling salesmen, we’re rarely in one place for any amount of time. Finding ways to distract yourself from the endless hours of travelling or hanging around at venues on tour can be a challenge. Before each tour, Paul and myself often discuss what our plans are. These have ranged from seven minute workouts in hotel and dressing rooms (this has happened) to enrolling in an open university course (this, unsurprisingly, hasn’t). One thing I’ve been doing on this tour is to get up in the morning and go for a run. I bought myself some sexy running shorts back in Indianapolis and can now be seen jogging through parks and around hotel parking lots looking like a cross between Jack Sparrow and Forrest Gump. One thing we have collectively been doing on this tour is to start writing Album 3. Our phones are full of ideas we’ve recorded over the last few months and we’ve begun to collate and sort through them. A while back, whilst in Syracuse, we spent our day off in the venue we’d played the night before, working on new material. It was a productive day and exciting to hear new songs taking shape. I’m not going to give too much away but by the end of the day we had smiles on our faces.

We’ve played some cracking shows recently. Boston was a highlight as was Washington D.C. and Ashbury Park, New Jersey. Last nights show in Baltimore was an interesting one. Obviously we want all our shows to be packed to the rafters and when they’re not, you might imagine that it could be disheartening. Last night the turn out wasn’t great. Admittedly, it was a pretty large room so it would have taken a lot to have filled it and it’s still relatively early days for us here in the States but whilst the crowd was small in number, they more than made up for it in passion and enthusiasm. It was a great gig. I was talking to a young lady after the show. It was her forth show of the tour and she explained that she’d been having a rough time recently but coming to our shows had given her a reason to smile and something to look forward to. This was the most touching and motivating thing I’d heard. Anyone attempting to do what we do for the money would be fucking mental. It’s very hard and very expensive to try to break a place like America. It takes steely determination and a fair amount of personal sacrifice to to do it with absolutely no guarantees it will pay off but when you hear from someone that your music has made a difference to them and made their otherwise difficult lives more bearable, it makes the investment seem more worthwhile. Thank you, you know who you are.

We’re now on our way to Canada where we’ll be for a week or so before crossing the border back into the U.S. Hopefully we’ll get to stop at Niagara Falls which eluded us earlier in the tour. Matt says he’s going to attempt to go over it in a barrel. I’d be impressed not so much by him surviving the attempt but by actually managing to fit all six and a half feet of himself into a barrel.
Till next time…

– Nick

At one point, it looked as though our set in Hamilton, Ohio was going to be rained off. As we arrived at the festival site, the sun was shining but some very ominous clouds loomed on the horizon. As our set time drew nearer, so did the clouds and loud claps of thunder announced the arrival of rain and lightning. Not ideal weather for an outdoor stage with just a token gesture of a roof. As people scrambled for cover, we devised an alternativeplan to perform some acoustic tunes in the hotel lobby next to the site. It panned out eventually however that the storm passed and the stage was mopped up sufficiently to set up and play some music.

A few tunes into the set, we had to temporarily abort as, what began as a small plume of smoke quickly became a thick grey cloud belching from somewhere behind us, completely engulfing Damon. Like Kurt Russell in Backdraft, our heroic backline tech, Spidros (no – not his real name) came charging onstage, waving his arms frantically to evacuate the stage. Turns out, it was just an over enthusiastic smoke machine that had unwittingly been covered over by a tarpaulin but thanks Spidros, nice to know you’ve got our backs!

All in all, it was a short but great set and we we’re thankful that we got to play. The festival is organised by Dave Shaw – singer of the Revivalists whom we are currently supporting. Hamilton is his home town and only in its third year, the festival has become a well attended and much loved event. It’s inspiring to see musicians being pro-active and making things happen. Nice one Dave and thanks for having us.
After saying goodbye to Hamilton, we actually got to say “Hello Cleveland”. We didn’t have a show on our first night there so, after a couple of tacos and a good strong margarita, I took myself off to the cinema with Spidros (pronounced speed-ross) comfortable in the knowledge that, in the event of a fire, I’d be in safe hands.

So after a thoroughly enjoyable show last night at the Beach Ballroom in Cleveland we’ll shortly be arriving in Syracuse to play the Westcott theatre. Look forward to seeing all you sexy Syracusians later.
Thanks, by the way, to the kind souls who helped us load out after the show last night – it’s a shit job but made a lot less shit by your help!