In the fifth part of Rou’s tour blog, the Enter Shikari frontman goes in search of a famous shrimp and tries not to shatter his kneecaps
After the difficulties of the previous night, not a lot happens today as we try to regroup. We decide to attempt to cheer ourselves up with a brisk walk down to the harbour, with hopes of being able to spot Mr Trash Wheel.
Mr Trash Wheel is somewhat of a local celebrity, even if an inanimate one - he is a renewable energy-powered, litter collecting boat that keeps Baltimore’s waterfront clean. He sort of looks like a giant friendly shrimp with big cute goggly eyes. We’re pretty excited to meet him and see this great bit of technology in action (don’t ever let it be said that we ain’t a glamorous, debauched rock’n’roll outfit). Devastatingly, though, he is not moored, and is somewhere out at sea, quietly doing his duty. A humble hero.
Dejected, we head back to the venue.
The Shikari family, the CBL, our supporters, our friends, the people that come to our shows, whatever you want call them; they now seem to be offering even more services than the standard dance and sing along at shows. One specific service offered to us tonight in Baltimore is back-cracking. Rob complains about his back halfway through the show and a young chiropractor offers to service his vertebral column. Rob trots down into the pit and the lad hoists him up in a sort of brace-brace-Heimlich-manoeuvre. I can hear the crack from stage and the relief on Rob’s face is nigh on orgasmic. Rory gets in on the free servicing too. But then two minutes later appears on the same guy’s shoulders being whizzed around in the pit during The Paddington Frisk. He may of had his back cracked but now he’s getting his balls crushed. Tonight’s show is a belter, Baltimore’s always been great for us and it’s a joy to be back.
Since we’re on ailments though, let me have a wee whinge. I really need to discipline myself to stop doing James Brown knee drops. They’ve become something of a reflex now but I should really be limiting myself to one or two a night if I don’t want replacement kneecaps by the time I’m 35. Tonight I do far too many and by the time the set ends I’m hobbling offstage with an ice pack.
