November 2006
Thursday, November 30th, 2006

Well. That. Is. That.

The tour is dead.

Long live the tour!

The final night was a fukken blast – flowers in the dressing room, three weeks worth of whiskey coming to a head on the final rip through of Boom. Friends old and new. A thing of beauty, killed, so that the next creature could be born.

Heartfelt thanks to The Women: Son Of King Rebel and Mary Turner, you were both brilliant throughout the whole thing, without you I know not what. And a special thank you to the enigmatic Daniel Bristus, who didn’t crash once, drove us around the country, kept us together, and put up with our Special Ways. I was so sad it was all over, and so reticent to drive home last night, I had a drunken rage at the poor boy, which is supposed to be Jeremy’s job. What an emotional rotter I am!

Of course, biggest thanks go to all of you wonderful people who came down to the shows and sang and danced and laughed at my terrible jokes. I love you one and all, and can’t wait to see you again.

Look out for photos, video footage, etc over the coming weeks. If any of you lot recorded anything, send it in, I am making a DVD innit. History will not forget the Akira The Don and The Women tour 2006!


— Thursday, November 30th, 2006

Wednesday, November 29th, 2006

I knew Sheffield would be awesome. I knew as I saw it had been booked. I am well in tune with things me. I am a conduit. Bbbzzap!


1: I saw my little cousin Lara, who is in rude health and, cleverly enough, studying French and Italian and Spanish at university. The French have six words for “love”, they tell me. Not enough.

2: The opening act, NY electicians Hey Willpower, we hugely entertaining.

3: There were baguettes on our rider.

4: The gig itself was explosive, wet, loud, slick, and as fun as such things get. A dissproportionate number of those in attendance were good-looking, and knew all the words.

5: My DJ set, which took in Narstie, Motley Crue, The Clash, Cyndi Lauper, Benny Benassi, The Smiths, and The ODB, was brilliant. Even the kids who kept being denied their Klaxons requests had it.

6: The fine people off Sheffield: Jon and co, Lauren, Kirsty, Emma, Translucent Matt, Ben, Gemma, Annie and friends, pretty much everone I met. And our bless shy promoter. And the Def Lepard loving sound folk. Big up!

7: Collosal Irony. “You’re the luckiest guy in the world,” noted one finelly-coiffed dude towards the end of the night, as we danced. “You could have anyone you wanted in here.”
Well, I am pretty lucky. I haven’t been locked up for, like, 14 months. But she that I wanted in there was not, in fact, In There, but, to the best of my knowledge, resting in South London. So it goes! So it goes.

And us, we goes to Brighton. It is the last day of the tour.

— Wednesday, November 29th, 2006

Tuesday, November 28th, 2006

What a nightmare Blackberrys are! No one should be able to drunkishly post emotional nonsense to the world at 4am! It is unhealthy! Antisocial even!

Really, one should press delete, but that’s a bit 1984 for me. I’m a Take Me As I Is kindofa dude. And today I is a mess of clashing colours, zipping through England in a metal box through the rain and the sunshine en route to Sheffield, to play The Plug. I just had to make Dan switch Edith Bowman off, she was attepting to ruin my excellent mood with an almost fascinating innanity. Forsooth!

Anyway, we shall chat later, and the meantime, I present to you the acest letter I got yesterday. Forsooth!

Yo Akira,Just Wanted to say, If you could ever make it up to australia for a fewtours, im up for following the band round (Even on foot) to come to seeeveryone, Anyway, The main point of me writing is thisis a thanks and a little history, Well I got Married Recently (illegallyhush hush) to my girl and well, at the wedding we played Oh! what a gloriousthing which is always good, also some of your more Hard core stuff getsher….I get laid heh, So thanks for that. Next of all is your song “Thanks for all the AIDS” made me and a few of my mates donate some cash towardsAIDs Research and FinallyThe Song “The Drinking Song” made me stop abusing alcahol so much (that anda scolding from my wife Alexandra), so thank you for that as well. Anyway Uphere i’d love to see you live in concert and well, that all i have to sayreally, Thank you for your music and thank you for being a celebrity thatisn’t…well…An Ego with an Orbit, also me and my mate “Church” are bigfans and could well do whatever ¬†we can to help out your army down here
Signed,Tim, The 15 year old Invader

— Tuesday, November 28th, 2006

Tuesday, November 28th, 2006

Right now I should be…

Ah, fuck that.

Right now I should be sat on a stinking nightbus, a comatose, swollen junkie to my left, seeping pus from his bare, fat ankle, and I am.

Tonight myself and my band played an entirely brilliant show in London – joined onstage were we by my old friend Damian, and more recent friends Why Lout?. My little brother was there, as were numerous people of my past, and present. Afterwards, I took a party of some dozen to Trash, a place I used to frequent when I was young and silly, and there I saw folks who once meant so much to me, and now appear like ghosts, wafting sadly, chattering well meaningly enough, but emptilly, in my peripheral vision. And I met people who had been to my shows, and enjoyed them, to whom screech-ed moments of my weird actuallity had communicated. I hung with my brother, and my old friend.

And my friend Luke was there, and we spoke breifly, before I lost him to some bullshit sub-industry chatter. A little before the end of the night, we reconvined, and left together, and before any humanity could pass our lips, he leapt aboard a bus, and was gone.

Lingering, shadow like, at a bus stop, I was momentarily excited by the drillish vibration of my telephone’s text message alert, but it was Luke. And he said,

“Ah, these buses that sweep one home. When will we get a time when yr less eaten by essence of Don and i’m not so gobbled by the work and thinking of the home. I don’t know. For which i am sorry. And feel old.”

And, incensed, shudderish, I replied,

“Essence of Don? Fuck you Luke. I’m sad. Essence of being a person. Fuck you.”

Because it’s true. And I know I haven’t been communicating very well, these past dozen days, or less, or more. But that is because I am sad, despite the fantastic shows, the wonderful people, the lights and the booze and the noise. Folks ask me how the tour has been going. It has been fucking ace. But outside of the tour, I am a human, and the best bit of being that human has been torn from me, and I am sad, and that might be lame, gay, weak, whatever you may wanna call it. It’s OK, I can cope, I’m dope. I spent most of my life being told everything I was, or believed, or wanted, was bullshit, and I wasn’t deterred then, and neither shall I be now.

I should note, at this juncture, since begining this post, I’ve been involved in an altercation with some posh boys who felt it amusing to bear scorn and unkindness on the pussing junkie. And I am now in the flat I pay for, and it is warm. I have to quit smoking again. I have to continue to be. And I will. I am full of love, just like always. Always. Anyone that knows me will tell you that.

— Tuesday, November 28th, 2006

Monday, November 27th, 2006

Oh, how we love to play the Cardiff Barfly. The soundman is such a G he wears sunglasses in doors because hasn’t slept for a month and makes stuff so loud even deaf ole me can feel it in his ass. Always there are the ingredients for a fine sandwitch on the bar. Always there is a room full of bright, beautiful, bouncing pobl. I go nuts.

Evils supported last night, and played ear shredding post-house from inside a wendy house. He was ace. I played some Chamillionaire and some Billy Joel. Then we did a searlingly visceral gig, in front of friends old and new, and afterwards we were reunited in inebriacy with Martin and Mary and The Goblins and my people B and Wee James who I aint seen in YEARS… Etc am byth. A wonderful night, there will be recorded proof online soon, I am told.

We are on our way to London now, to tear Madamme Jo Jos anew batty hole. Will you join us?


In case you are unsure, read ye a bit of Dr Adam Walton’s review of the Wrexham show. Forsooth:

This was the best I had seen Akira. Admittedly, it’s only the third time, but each time he gets markedly better. His delivery was sharp and musical. The chemistry between him, Jeres and Mary is so unaffected… in fact, for someone who presents himself in a cartoon fashion – whether via the illustrations on his website, in his videos, or via the peroxide on his bonce – there isn’t an iota of artifice about Akira or his colleagues. They’re the most genuine musicians and orators I I have met. Because they’re not burdened by any need to be cool, or adhere to anyone else’s notions of what might be cool, they fly, they dizzy, they entertain, they amuse and they provoke…
There is an intoxocating confidence about their demeanour and the songs.
Back in the Day was restored to its Proustian, heart-strumming glory. Thanks For All the AIDS made us think and laugh and Oh! provoked a minor bout of dancing.
A man in an Akira t-shirt was pulled onto the stage and Akira placed him on a little stand.
“The world’s smallest catwalk,” said Jeres, and we all laughed.
Then, far too shortly, they were gone. It’s a good strategy to leave us wanting more. I believe that Adam, in the past, has had a tendency to perform whenever anyone was willing to give the organ grinder a ha’penny.
Now you know that it’s he who is thoroughly in control.
Short note to say that Jeres’ solo in Oh! was marvellous and that Mary Turner wiped Winter’s dull, cold ache of forboding and gloom away with her mere presence. When she sang, heaven moved that little bit closer to earth, and that’s one mighty trick if you know how to do it.

— Monday, November 27th, 2006

Sunday, November 26th, 2006

Liverpool was so hardcore it took me till just now to recover, so think yourself lucky if you were there, and weep were you not. That there’s a picture of about a quarter of our rider (and Mary poncing in a mirror), so if you bear in mind that I lurked in that there dressing room of ours for a good few hours prior to the gig while the others went back to the hotel to get ponced, AND I was nice enough to allow Howard Marks to share it with us, well, yeah. All that. Mr Marks, happily DOES always have fine hash on him, and I was clever enough not to smoke too much. However, the proprietors of the Legal Highs stall liked our gig enough to want to chuck free Things down my neck after, so it is no surprise that at 10 am I still hadn’t got back to the hotel to meet the others, and was, in the end, an hour and a half late, for which I must apologise to Tour Manager Dan. And thank my benevolent Liverpudlian hosts. PAX!

Right. Off to Cardiff now. Well, first I must go have some kind of a human encounter. In the raining. Then Cardiff. CARDIFF! Hoo-Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrah!

— Sunday, November 26th, 2006