Sadly, another decent band have called it at day. While many people won’t have heard of the Presidents of the United States of America, many will at least be familiar with at least a couple of their songs; Peaches, Lump, perhaps even Kitty, or their cover of Video Killed the Radio Star.
It’s been a couple of years since they last toured and they’ve been very quiet of late; as a band, anyway.
I’m sure they’ll do well in their separate careers, but it’s a shame that they’ve called it a day.
A couple of random pictures from the last couple of days.
The last one obviously wasn’t mine, but I’m in it.
We’re home now; well, we’re in our local. After last night’s singing along, there was a compulsory Spotify request: Are we alive:
Well lay me, lay me down
Rip my fucking clothes off she said
I may be disappointed that Augustines are no more, but at least we were there from the beginning. They’re not mainstream, and that’s what probably attracted us to We Are Augustines in a little tent at a festival in 2011.
They could have been huge, but I’ll keep my theories to myself. Hopefully, though, they’ll branch off into three different directions.
I shall go all quiet about such things now, apart from wishing them good luck for the future. I look forward to hearing them in their future projects and shall continue to enjoy their past. Although I hope their past extends to their future.
Best live band I’ve ever seen.
My second in command are now having our first beer of the day.
After a lovely breakfast in Egg cafe.
After a good night’s sleep in the Crowne Plaza (staff discount).
After an amazing gig last night at the Academy.
That picture was actually taken over a decade ago, by my youngest child, at the same venue. It’s possibly the best ever Eels related photo.
Anyway, last night was reputedly the final Augustines performance. And it was one hell of a performance.
I took no pictures though, it felt right not to. So you’ll have to take my word that this was a loud, emotional evening. The auudience’s we are Augustines chant is still in my head.
The event was streamed live on the internet, hopefully there’ll be recordings. While I do understand why this is the end of their road, I can only hope that’s not the case.
This and this say it all really. And a clip from Friday night. A solo from Mr McCarthy, weary eyes.
I’m conscious that I’ve mentioned this band rather a lot of late. We’d planned to see them twice, since this does seem to be the end of their road, but then Glasgow happened. And now there’s Liverpool on Monday.
So, after Monday, I shall probably write about them one last time.
I know, I’m getting on a bit and I probably shouldn’t do silly, rash things.
But, last night’s conversation with an Augustine planted a seed. While, in the Drum and Monkey in Glasgow (we didn’t leave after MacSorley’s as planned) this afternoon, my second in command and I decided that we should go to Belfast. Unfortunately, just as we were about to call a cab to the airport, we realised that we didn’t have passports or photo ID. So we didn’t go through with it.
So, lesson learnt; carry ID.
Anyway, as a result, we bought tickets for the last night of the tour, in Liverpool,
If you don’t know Augustines, you won’t get it. This is your last chance to discover something pretty amazing.
Having a pint of Sam Smith’s stout in Mono. The bar where my second in command went from smiles to tears in a few seconds, just a month ago. When she read that Augustines were to split up after this tour.
We’re heading to the station after this beer, going to have a few hours in Edinburgh before the train home.
Reflecting on last night, Glasgow must surely be the city of brotherly love. We met some lovely people in a lovely old church.
Struggling for words. Blown away. Gutted.
Augustines. Full stop.
My second in command and I are currently resting in West bar/restaurant/brewery. One of us is drinking coffee because we (she) want(s) to (stay awake) appreciate the band tonight.
Apparently, St Lukes is only a short walk from here, so there’s no need to rush.
They don’t use fish here you know, German purity law in Scotland. Genius.
The end of Augustines. At least for my second and command and I. There’s a gig in Belfast, then a final one in Liverpool, but we’ll not be there. It’s quite an emotional time for my second in command; she’s been addicted to their music for some time now.
And, so, we’re seeing them this very evening in Glasgow, my favourite city.
We’re currently in the 13th Note, which happens to be my favourite bar. A bar that serves the most delicious falafel burgers.
My second in command lost her (most expensive ever) Brewdog hat this afternion. In the Horseshoe Bar, she believed. But it’s not there.
It’s possibly a day for lost things; Augustines, my second in command’s Brewdog hat and, technically not lost today, but purchased across the road to this very bar a few weeks ago, before being mislaid the next day, sheriff’s badge.
One of the above has now been replaced.
