2011-08-28T02:34:00.000-07:00

La Berliner.

Most people assume that being in a rock'n'll band will instantly grant you access to non-stop craze-sex parties, and that having a guitar strapped (ouch, miss m!) 'round your neck will immediately turn you into a sex-pot, attracting a never-ending procession of willing fans and beautiful admirers.

Let's get the record straight: this assumption is: - (very long pause)

totally correct. yay!

But, as anyone who's ever been in a band will tell you, the tour schedules are so gruelling, the pressure and demands so intense, that I often wondered how do all these cool people manage to find time and energy for any craze sex-frolics at all.

Having spent the day travelling, done an emotional 2 hour set, more often than not, I would have a few drinks at the bar and quietly retreat to my own boudoir, leaving the rest of the band and crew to get on with the, shall we say, post-gig extra entertainment?

That is not to say I didn't have fun on the road, or that sometimes even workaholic monteiro didn't get carried away by sweet temptation.

Oh no, sirree. I probably had more fun than legally allowed, but, as a rule, preferred to share the joys of sex with whoever I happened to be in love with, or, had the misfortune to have my affections and attention bestowed upon.

Until, that is, that early gig in Berlin, when on such occasion my behaviour and actions led to a much dreaded 'band-only' anecdote, that would haunt me for the rest of my days in Drugstore.

To the tale:

We were travelling 'round Europe supporting other bands and promoting our 1st album for GoDiscs.

We hit Berlin, where our licensed Label and main European distributor were based, and joined them for a post-gig celebratory drinks at an expensive trendy bar. This is the kind of thing most bands absolutely hate to do, schmoozing music-biz ratones, but it's something everyone gets used to, as sometimes being charming to the record company people, can help ensure they're gonna do a decent job with your album campaign.

So there we were, at this hip bar, sitting center-stage on a huge table, surrounded by some 30 or so biz people, trying to be nice, and leave'em with a positive impression of our band.

I walked up to the bar, got talking to a lovely, friendly bartender, who, god only knows why, started pouring free shots of Tequila - one after the other, while a couple of meters away, everyone else at the vips' table, were bemusedly watching me getting completely plastered.

And completely plastered I got.

At some point we started kissing, him on the 'working' side of the bar, me, half-falling off the stool.

More tequilas = more kisses, and things were really heating-up.

Please don't ask how or why, honestly, this was the 1st time dans my whole vie that I got a little craze with a stranger (I think...), but - (takes deep blushing breath) - It happened: The barman has a word with the manager, asks to end his shift early, jumps off the counter and we're off to the loo, to do that thing that people do together in loos, only when very drunk or very horny, or as in this case, a lethal combination of both.

And so it was that band, crew and all the music-biz vips watched in disbelief, as I staggered, half-unbuttoned shirt to the toilette, passionately hanging on to my new best berliner friend.

What band and crew didn't know and, subsequently found very hard to believe, was that once we got to the love-loo, the minute he lift me up onto the sink, and just as his fly was about to get undone, I felt sick, very very sick, and threw-up all over his shirt, my shirt - everywhere.

We stopped. You know when you're very drunk and then suddenly the mood turns? I felt really awful and seriously dizzy.

He got me a glass of water, gave me a hug, and said: think it's time for you to go home. A real gent.

I emerged from the loo some 10 minutes later, totally dishevelled, hair all over the place, and a wet shirt! (as we had cleaned-up some of my own muck away).
Walked up to our tour manager, ignored everyone else at the table, and said: 'I wanna go to hotel, now, please".

The label and their biz-mates must have been quite impressed:

"Ach du lieber Gott! (translate), singer of this band is eine craze rock'n'roll frau...'

Next morning the Universe was born, with a massive big-bang mother of all fuckers of a headache, to an assault of cruel jokes by the Drugstore posse.

And no matter how much I tried to explain that nothing had actually happened, that the berlin missile failed to reach its target and that we didn't do it, they just simply did not believe me, and for years to come, every time they lay their eyes on a new European tour-schedule, they'll go crazy with laughter and deliver a barrage of cheesy punchlines:

'Yep, Isabel's gonna be fine, we're playing Berlin again' or to our TM: 'Yay! Berlin is in, just make sure you get some extras for miss monteiro...wink-wink.'

Arrrgh - how annoying was that? To have the reputation of a grand-traveller, without having actually clocked-up the air-miles? *sighs*

A few years later, as Drugstore's rank rose, we returned to Berlin victorious, to play a sold-out headlining gig at an amazing venue.

Backstage, getting ready for the gig, an usher walks into my dressing room holding a most beautiful bunch of red-roses, the little card read:

'From your past tequila lover, now, your faithful admirer.'

I asked the usher to send the secret fan in.

It was awkward and sweet, him standing in my dressing room, a living reminder of one of my many drunken follies.

We shook hands, talked briefly, I signed an autograph, but was so busy thinking about the show ahead, I somehow forgot to offer him a drink.

ps1 - prob not as shameful as Miki, from 90's shoegazin' band Lush, at Benicassim Festival: backstage bar area where everyone is hanging-out, daytime, full-view, full-on sex, crouching-tiger-style, she: chick on top.

Now, that's not rock'n'roll - that's something else...

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appendix:

This was an original post published exclusively to the PLEDGE subscribers of the 'Black blog', but due to the fastastic response Anatomy has been getting in Germany (biggest bloody market, as PaulB would remind us) - and the likelihood of band doing a few dates over there - I thought we should share the story, and give the really nice guys in the new line-up some ammunition against me on the road.
hit me baby one more time.
.
drugstore, on the road again? ya!

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hilarious postcript / 1st sept:

Received dms on twitter from guy who's contesting my claim of...'1st time dans my whole vie that I got a little craze with a stranger' - no sure I believe him, but alas, he doesn't seem to have any evidencial proof, let's just thankmaryjesusandthelittlelambs for that, either way...

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drugstoreberliner