On the Road: The Hazey Janes take Europe with Wilco (Part Deux)

Tony Cascarino

The relentless toll costs that plague the motorways throughout Western Europe have already become a source of frustration, however today’s drive goes unburdened by the undemonstrative, dour figure in the toll booth we’ve become all too familiar with. Instead, we’re left to vanish and reappear through the endless tunnels impressively carved through Italy’s mountainous East coast FOC. 

We wind our way north, ahead the challenge of negotiating the Turin drivers’ rush hour antics. Parisian Jerome Makles’ words come to mind: “The one rule to driving in Paris… don’t hesitate.” Driver Doug adds that he feels the traffic lights over here are merely “a suggestion”. A couple of jabs on the horn and a few momentous statues later we crawl round to the back of Teatro Della Concordia for load in. Which tonight is up a rickety-looking flight of stairs. 

Dinner is being served in front of the stage, providing some nervy soundcheck moments as members of Wilco sit eating, looking on. Fifteen minutes before stage time Jeff Tweedy visits our dressing room and introduces himself. Extremely canny and friendly, he pays us a few very generous compliments and asks if everyone is treating us well. 

When we walk on, people are pressed up tight against the front of the stage, the biggest turn out on the tour so far. Afterwards, and funnily enough all four of us feel it’s our best performance yet, we watch Wilco blow the proverbial socks clean off the punters from the side of the stage. Throwing in Outta Mind, Outta Sight and an extended jam to close (featuring a bare-chested guitar tech Josh on cowbell and amazing handlebar ‘tash), they admirably play upwards of two hours, giving the Torino crowd their Euros’ worth.

It’s the last date on the Italian leg so there are plenty of refreshments afterwards. Glancing over, Liam is yapping with Glenn, Alice with John. Noting the wonderfully surreal climax to the night, we abscond to deepest, darkest Torino to begin the hunt for our beds for the night.

Breakfast, often a modest affair on tour, doesn’t break the mould and we’re soon spending our ‘day off’ on an eight hour drive to Toulouse, listening to Malcom Tucker berate another omnishambles in earnest. After an obligatory stop in the French Alps for some mementos we while away the Mont Blanc tunnel with a mysterious package entitled ‘The Hazey Janes - NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL TOUR’. It turns out to be a CD containing a hilarious interactive TV theme tune quiz disk a friend has compiled and narrated for us in her familiar Angus lint. Thanks Jen! Liam obliterates the competition however. The long, sun-bleached journey drags but isn’t without its reward with the glistening Mediterranean Sea slowly sliding by us. We arrive late, in darkness just outside the centre of Toulouse and with little time to explore, we opt for dinner, bed and an early rise. 

The Sacred Heart Of Jesus Etc.

The people of the Basque Country, like the Catalonians, pride themselves on their identity and language, so there’s a great deal of interest and excitement in the van (‘Will they?’ ‘Don’t they?!’ Is it??) as we start the five hour trip. It’s the band’s first visit to the Spanish mainland since we recorded Hotel Radio back in 2006. As the Pyrennes come into view, a storm blows in and follows us all the way to a very wet Bilbao, successfully obscuring our view of the Guggenheim and seeing us all the way to the loading bay of Palacio Euskalduna. A sign perhaps? 

As it happens, the show goes off without a hitch, in fact we even have the crowd singing Feliz Cumpleanos to Matthew. The only disappointment is that we can’t see them in the darkness of the beautiful, vast Palacio. Afterwards, we’re happy to hang out with some friends and family who have flown over for the show. The men of the ‘Co take to the stage, again opening with One Sunday Morning, which sets the tone nicely for a somewhat subdued theatre audience who are soon on their feet. Not only has front of house engineer Stan been consistently immaculate for them thus far, Wilco’s lighting engineer Jeremy Roth’s subtle bends and burst of colour can’t be overstated. During the outro of Misunderstood, he has various spotlights and webbed branches revolving from the band members’ feet to the backdrop. 

After the encore, our attempts to make the merch stall are thwarted by Euskalduna’s beautifully confused design as we end up completely lost in the endless Escher-like stairwells that hang above what is now a very empty foyer. Undeterred, we load out on the huge hydraulic floating floor that descends into the bowls of the building and point the van in the direction of Bilbao’s Old Town.