Wednesday 9th October
Left Dorchester at 9:30am. Arrived at 'Purple Parking' near Heathrow at 12:30pm, which is owned by Ian Gillan, purposely avoiding 'Sabbath Parking' because the shuttle bus smells of moth balls. After enjoying 'The potted history of Purple Parking' talk by the bus driver, we arrived at Heathrow and met Jon and Matt from the Alchemysts and smoked with them for several minutes. Bevis Frond arrived soon after and we then killed time in Wetherspoons until the flight left at 3:30 for JFK airport.

We took full advantage of the booze onboard the aircraft, some of us anticipating a mid-air hijack, but instead we ended up watching Spiderman/Insomnia/Minority Report to mixed reviews. After a smooth British Airways landing in New York, we took taxis to Leonard Street where we met up with Dave, Kenny and his brother outside the Rubric Records office. Luckily, after a days' gruelling travelling, we were treated to the very best NYC hospitality - Rich, Jon and Me were shown the floor of Kenny's brothers office, and told that we were to sleep there for the next two nights, with en suite janitor's closet for washing. After our enormous anger was translated into mumbling complaints, Dave kindly allowed us access to his flat; Tom and Luke being treated to Kenny's boudoir.

With a faint smell of victory and relief in the air, we returned with Dave to the Knitting Factory to drink several beers, and watch Cinerama (David Gedge's new mediocre band), supported by VHS or Beta (an initially interesting blend of electric drums and distorted guitars which soon morphed into a very boring blend of tuneless drones and predictable clattering).

Kenny fucked off to Brooklyn and Nick, Ade & Jules retired to the hotel.

After the Knitting Factory, we picked up our bags and dispersed to our allotted flats. The horror that lay before us could not have been anticipated.

Thursday 10th October
Lunchtime. Me, Rich and Jon met up with Luke and Tom at 11:00am outside the Rubric office, along with Paul, Eliza, Dave and Matt (who had slept at his friends house).

Luke and Tom described how they had arrived at Kenny's flat and found that someone must have broken in, ransacked the place, emptying crisps all over the futon and carpet, spraying poisonous odours around and covering the shower and bathroom with filth that had yet to be seen by human eyes. Once they had settled in, Kenny arrived at 5:30am, moved Tom from his stained & filthy bed to a bed shaped like a book, which acted like a medieval torture device on Tom's spine.

Rich, Jon and I described how they had arrived at Dave's flat to find that someone must have broken in, ransacked the place, dumping several years worth of old newspapers and dust into the living room, throwing hundreds of CD's into the air and covering the bathroom with filth that had yet to be seen by human eyes. Also, a blind psychopath had decorated the spare room, sprinkling grit liberally onto all the mattresses, and wiping his crotch dry with all available towels.

After a much needed breakfast at the local diner, the Bishops set off to see the local sights that had yet to be destroyed by terrorists.

We walked to the Staten Island Ferry port via "Ground Zero" which was quite chilling and strange considering we had gone to the top of the WTC the last time we had visited NYC. However, Rich mistook the tributes dotted around the site for an open-air market and attempted to buy some batteries for his walkman from a distraught New Yorker.

We travelled to Staten Island and back after being told that it went within "a whisker" of the Statue of Liberty, but despite the massive exaggeration, the views of the Statue and Manhattan were fantastic, free entertainment provided by the on-board buskers, one of which unfortunately was compelled to cover "Desire" by U2.

After we got off the ferry, we took the subway to Times Square, where we marvelled at the lights, the sounds and the smells. Walking past the magnificent Post Office and Penn Station, we then went on a blind hunt up 32nd street for music shops. Four miles later, nothing. We gave up and decided to climb the Empire State Building, which was windy, scary (for me) and exhilarating. I had smuggled a fleck of dogshit up to the top, and I flung it from the outside viewing area. When it reached the bottom, it was the equivalent weight of a breezeblock, and fortunately it only crushed a passing Toyota Yaris.

After our tourist travels drew to a close, we took a subway to the Canal Street near the Knitting Factory for our soundcheck at 7:30pm. We got off the tube, walked in the wrong direction for several miles, turned around and retraced our steps, and arrived in the nick of time at the venue. We were then told that we couldn't soundcheck because the doors were about to open so we found the bar and waited.

After chatting with the Alchemysts, Nick and Ade and the fine chaps from Motorpsycho (one of which was sleeping in the corner of the dressing room), we mounted the stage at 8:30pm to confront the audience of three who were waiting anxiously for the bar to open. Luckily the noise of the band drew a more respectable crowd and we played through most of "Grimstone" and a couple of oldies to a friendly and appreciative response. We retired to the dressing room, chatted to Arnie from the local radio station, and commenced drinking. The Alchemysts played well as usual, the set only tainted by some grinding feedback which was noticed by all except the soundman. The Frond kicked some ass (as required by US audiences) before Motorpsycho kicked everyone's collective ass by playing an amazing set of great songs and powerful instrumentals. Luckily, the bass player from Motorpsycho wasn't noticeably unnerved by someone hammering on the toilet door shouting "Schnell, schnell!", just before he went on stage. The rest of the evening is slightly blurred through sleep deprivation, but a good time was had by all.

We dispersed to our allotted squats around 1:30am, this time Paul and Eliza joining Rich, Jon and me at Dave's after they refused to pay for the second nights hotel bill which was being docked from their wages….

The taxi journey took us to the Brooklyn Navy yard near where Dave lives, and on the way, I attempted to chat to the taxi driver in a normal and casual drunken fashion. New York taxi drivers do not appreciate conversation however, and grunted responses to everything except to correct me on my mistaken observation that the French Connection may have been filmed on our chosen route (filmed in the Bronx apparently).

We smoked joints at Dave's 'til late, Rich slept on the floor, Jon slept on the sofa-thing and I slept on a gritty mattress next to Paul & Eliza on a separate gritty mattress.

Friday 11th October
We dragged ourselves out of bed at 11:00am and met up with everyone at the delicatessen just down from Rubric's office. An eight hour van journey to Boston in the pissing rain ensued. Or ten hours if you were lucky enough to travel with Kenny (I can do it in three) Segal.

Ade got us to Boston around 8:00pm, and the relief at seeing the beautiful Hyatt Regency was unfathomable. Fantastic views over the Charles River, beds (!), shower, swimming pool, health club and extremely expensive restaurant.

Ade and Nick gave us a lift into Boston across the river and we went to The Axis club to see how the festival was going. Fenway park loomed over the street next to the club like a paedophile looming over a small child at playtime.

Me & Rich went for pizza and returned to the Axis, unbeknown to myself still covered in pizza sauce. After speaking to Joe Ross from the Green Pajamas, who thankfully pointed out the sauce, we ogled the Playboy bunnies who were employed behind the bar whilst drinking lovely beer. We watched 'Ghost' end the night at the Axis (after which the Terrastock crowd was asked to vacate the premises to allow the beautiful people inside for dancing) and then the Bishops'n'Matt hunted down an off-licence and headed back to the van. Ade & Nick had gone for a slap up meal in a veal restaurant, so we hailed a taxi back to the hotel. The taxi driver felt it necessary to take a scenic route so that we could see all the tunnels and freeways leading away from the hotel. $10 and 10 minutes later, we retired to me and Luke's hotel room, drank beer, talked about paedophiles and then crashed out.

Saturday 12th October
After sleeping in what seemed like the most comfortable beds in the world, we met in the lobby, and then squeezed three bands into the van to go to the gig. We popped over to 'Bagel City' for some bagels and when we returned to the Axis, Ade, Paul, Nick & Matt played some kerrazy music while Rustic Rod read excerpts from 'Roget's Thesaurus'. The band called themselves 'Ethereal Counterbalance'. We missed Greg Weeks playing on Stage 1 while we set up the gear for the Bishops gig. Aamir, Stu Pope and Vic Upchurch chatted to us while we awaited our cue to go onstage and helped to calm my fragmented nerves.

We hit the stage at 1:25pm and fired through the new CD like Ron Jeremy's meat dolly penetrating a puffed up blood puppet. The soundman, despite being provided with vocal cues, failed to notice that Luke was singing during 'The Children', thus transforming the song into a quaint instrumental. Fortunately, Nick told him to 'turn the drummer's fucking mic on!' so Luke managed to get the last two bars of lyrics out before we finished the song. Despite the undeniable incompetence of Mr. Soundman, we enjoyed the gig greatly. The audience was full of enthusiasm throughout the festival, and they made the gig for us. Thurston Moore (Sonic Youth) begged for our autographs as we left the stage, but we politely refused.

I popped out to phone my girlfriend and look in Tower records for the latest Shania Twain CD, but was bitterly disappointed to find they had sold out. A Turtles DVD had to suffice. I returned to the Axis and me and Luke went to the off licence and smuggled several bottles of whisky back into the club to avoid the prohibitive bar prices.

We all gathered excitedly to see Motorpsycho at 6:30pm. Once again, they were absolutely fantastic, the long instrumentals seeming even more powerful in a large room. Luke, Matt and I then spent some time baiting a girl who was parading around with a white gag tied around her mouth. She seemed to feel the urge to write meaningless pretentious drivel onto pieces of paper which she handed out to whoever was passing. After questioning her on why she was doing it, and generally being silly, we drew Tic-tac-toe on a piece of paper, handed it back to her, after placing the X in the centre square. She must have known it was futile trying to continue the game after our master stroke, and walked off.

Much drinking ensued, the evening ending with me, Luke and Matt accosting a kettle drum being guarded by one of the band members while they waited for their transport. A large bald chap approached us and started chatting, and he then phoned his mother on his mobile phone and we sang 'Under the moon of love' to her over the phone. He then thrust the phone at me and asked me to talk to his mom, although why she would want to talk to a pissed idiot is a mystery.

We ambled out of the club, and crammed into a car that was heading back to the hotel, Tom seeming quite pleased about going in the boot (or trunk). Back at the hotel, we joined the rest of the bands in the bar, and got even more hammered. We chatted to Motorpsycho about music, Nick Bensen and his mate about low-budget horror movies and then retired to our soft beds. I arrived back at the hotel room to find Luke snoring in bed with a joint in his hand and a freshly opened can of beer next to his bed. I held his nose to alleviate the snoring but Luke continued breathing from his ears. I gave up, popped my ear plugs in and slept.

Rich went back to Nick Bensen's room for the party, and several hours later was thrown from the room like a drunken musician being thrown from a hotel room.

Sunday 13th October
Bad hangover. We met up in the lobby to get the free bus into town, Rich said he'd join us at the Axis later. Tom nipped back to his hotel room just before the bus arrived to get some money and as it pulled away, we watched him helplessly from the bus as he wandered around looking for us. Me and Luke wandered around Boston, marvelling at the clean streets and high prices, searching for somewhere to eat. We eventually found a 'Sbarro' restaurant, run by a pair of deeply incompetent twins, who had just mastered the basics of English. We ordered our pizzas and waited ½ hour for the food along with a group of hungry scouts. The walk back to the Axis passed by some lovely old buildings, the Theatre district and Boston common (a beautiful park). We walked up Newbury, noting all the record shops, and made it back to the Axis to watch The Alchemysts at 1:00pm. They played brilliantly and although the 'soundman' blighted their set in the same way as ours (Paul was the victim this time), they deservedly had a great response from the bloated audience.

The Lilys were up next and despite a strange sound (I wonder why?!?), they were great. They played mostly stuff from 'Better can't make your life better' along with a couple of tunes I didn't recognise. We then nipped out the back of the Axis for a joint, accidentally blocking the rear entrance while Sonic Youth tried to load their gear in. After some choice words, they apologised for disturbing us and we went back inside.

At 3:20pm, The Sunshine Fix played and they were refreshingly brilliant - great songs, great singer (from Olivia Tremor Control), great players. Joe Ross (Green Pajamas) told us that the next band, The Lothars, were an all Theremin pop band. Intriguing. After 3 minutes of tuneless inaudible weirdness, we went back to the record shops in Newbury.

Tom, Luke and I found a diner around 5:30pm and ate heartily, drank thirstily, and listened surreptitiously to a drunken local insult a young couple eating their meal.

We minced back to the Axis just in time to miss Sonic Youth. I asked the doorman if we'd missed any good bands and he replied 'Well, everything's been great today, hasn't it?'. I said, 'The Lothars weren't great'. He then pointed out the singer from The Lothars standing right behind me. I shuffled away.

Delicate Awol were on at 6:45pm, playing a refreshing blend of Prog/Jazz/Pop with some excellent vocals. Bevis Frond were on at 7:30pm, and once again, played brilliantly, although their performance was given a darker edge by a mysterious figure lunging onto the stage (almost as if he were pushed onstage) in the shadows at the back.

Upstairs turned out to be the major drinking area on the final day of Terrastock. We spent the rest of the night sitting around chatting to Nick & Ade, Kurt from the Lilys (who seemed to be enjoying his acid), and Stooert Odom from the legendary Thin White Rope (one of my favourite bands). Also, a streaker made a fleeting appearance upstairs, although no-one was sure if it had actually happened.

After running out of beer for the umpteenth time, me and Matt took to stealing bottles from the barrel which had been provided for the bands coming off stage. An obese gentleman with blue hair announced that no more beer was to be taken from the barrel, other than for the musicians who had just played. Shuffling conspicuously towards the barrel, we stood next to the beer giggling like a pair of children, waiting for right time to pounce. As the guy turned his back we grabbed a couple of bottles each and ran away.

More and more joints were smoked, and at one point, Luke pointed out that the visibility in the room was down to several feet. We eventually went to watch Acid Mother's Temple, and then left the club around 2:00am.

Outside, hundreds of people had gathered up the road and a fight had broken out. Police arrived to break up the rabble and one of the men had broken loose and was chased up the road by two policemen. They opened fire and thankfully brought him down quickly and cleanly. We were joined by the 'gag lady' as we walked up the road, who had moved the gag to her eyes for tonight's festivities. We took a taxi back to the Hyatt, drank some more and presumably went to bed.

Monday 14th October
Horrendous hangover. Brain damaged. Everyone met in the Lobby and said their goodbyes at noon and the Bishops walked over the bridge to get some food. We found an amazing music shop and spent the entire day inside. Tom bought a strap-on leather keyboard, I bought a ten string bass, Luke bought some electric drum sticks and Rich bought a wax guitar. One taxi later, we were at the airport feeling like shit, ready for the flight back to sunny England.

Tuesday 15th October
Landed at 8:00am, pissing down with rain.

Copyright 2002, Alan Strawbridge.