In the first installment of her tour diary, PIKELET encounters some great bands in New Zealand, contracts swine flu en route to the US and gets confused as a member of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers upon arrival in LA.

New Zealand

New Zealand ... I love you. The three weeks I spent in Wellington and the three days in Auckland were a whirlwind of excellent music, insightful and hilarious conversation, and beautiful friendly people that made me feel so welcomed. The people who let me stay at their house for the WHOLE THREE WEEKS were totally delightful and became great friends. Not to mention the amazing coffee (sorry Melbourne, Wellington is winning on that front). This stint in NZ has deepened further the already rapid flowing river of adoration I have for that country.

I played a couple of shows while in Wellington at two lovely venues. The first was at a place aptly named “Happy”. The staff were very accommodating and the audience was really receptive as well. I was playing with a band called Bright Colours and they totally blew me away. I hope they come to Australia so that everyone gets a chance to see them live. Apparently they are all musicians that have played at Happy for many years in a little noise/avant scene that has a flavour all of its own. Fertility Festival is another band that they're a part of. If you ever hear that these two bands are playing near you - go and see them. Perhaps look them up online also and check out affiliated bands.

The other show was at Watusi Bar. I played there with my full band the last time we were in Wellington. It's a small tiki-themed bar, owned by a collective of people, so all the staff there have a stake in the place. The atmosphere is relaxed and the staff/owners are super-sweet. I played with Control 6580 and Tengu. Top show!

There were also the Bachelorette shows … How could I forget! The first was in Wellington at Mighty Mighty which is a venue that has been a staple for hanging out and playing for many a band for many a late-night. Once again, we were well taken care of by the friendly venue peoples. I played as support for Bachelorette as well as playing in the band. Cassette played as main support and Nik Brinkman from Over The Atlantic played as opener. Everyone kicked bums. Splendid night all round. Then in Auckland the next night we played at Kings Arms with a band called The Ribbon. Also a splendid night! Apologies for the lack of details – sometimes when writing about shows I get a little tired of always using the positive words in my vocabulary and so far nothing has caused me to use any other kinds of words.

While in Wellington I spent a lot of my time making Pikelet badges out of Fimo (for the uninitiated, it's a colourful putty that you bake in the oven and it sets hard), not to mention rehearsing with Bachelorette. Did I forget to mention them? That's the whole reason I was in NZ in the first place. I have loved getting to know Annabel's songs and it's been a real challenge getting my head around how to play them live. We'll have 31 shows in the States to get them polished up, however, so I'm sure it's going to seem like a breeze in no time.

In our tour party we have the following members: Annabel (songwriter, singer and, well, she is Bachelorette); Craig (drums, electric guitar and excellent banter so I've been told); me (drums on a couple, guitar of the electric and the acoustic variety, Casiotone and Portasound keyboards, loops and back-ups); Xan (tour manager); and Dale (sound engineer). Please refer to this list when reading future tour diaries so that you know who the heck I'm talking about. I must apologise for condensing a whole three weeks of NZ into such a short diary entry. I just feel as though I'm already falling behind as I'm now three days into the American leg of the tour and haven't yet told you about my favourite part of any overseas trip – the fucking long flight!

US Arrival

There was nothing unusual about the flight from Melbourne to LA. Like all flights, it was cramped, boring, slightly strange smelling and topped-off with some delirious yet polite and awkward conversation with the person seated next to you as you breathe a (snotty) collective sigh of relief when the plane finally lands. Then again, I wouldn't accurately know how the flight smelled as I was suffering from what several fellow passengers told me with their horrified eyes was “swine flu”. It was actually my signature “leaving Australia cold”. Happens every time.

Having several bouts of claustrophobia and anxiety prompting me to leave my seat every hour on the hour, I had convinced myself that my travel buddy was loathing me with his every cell. As it turns out, he's a laid-back farmer-type who I'm pretty sure wouldn't have even been bothered if I'd turned around and puked in his lap. He explained that he has been commissioned by some American farms to come and run harvesters in the States because apparently Australian farmers are more knowledgeable and diligent due to the fact that they're not supplemented by the government like American farmers. See, there you go, that awkward conversation just paid for itself. Never would have guessed that.

I watched three in-flight movies (Milk was the pick of the bunch, it made me teary), two episodes of an Aussie comedy series that I forget the name of and finally finished reading John Franzen's The Corrections.

We had to wait a while before getting off the plane as someone had become quite ill during the flight. A fireman (why it was a fireman and not a dude in a bio-chemical suit I will never know) came on board and escorted her off to see if we were all going to explode with hives, grow pig hooves and start spewing green stuff all over LA. We all finally left the plane hive-and-hoof free, customs was quick and the bags arrived promptly too.

I was welcomed by an overly friendly man when I walked outside. My first instinct was that he was one of those cab drivers that tries to screw you over for being a dumbarse newbie Australian tourist. But he actually just wanted to offer some friendly information and welcome me to LA. Or so I thought. He then told all about the religious group that he is a passionate representative of and solicited a donation from my bleary-headed, snot-confused brain with great ease – even though I have never actually believed in a god. I was so tired I may well have started claiming to have found one though. You win this time, organised religion.

I got on the shuttle-bus and gawked at some beautiful Americans and smirked to myself at their cute accents with a smug street-smart warmth in my belly at having made it this far without getting mugged. I have been completely brain-washed by my mum that the States is awash with violence and hundreds of guns. So I was expecting to stick out like a sore thumb given my lack of an ammunition belt or semi-automatic weapon, also given that I was carrying two wheelie cases full of musical equipment and a guitar case. When I got off the bus, I attempted to give the bus driver some money but he would not take it. Instead, he gave me a ticket for free and insisted that I'd already paid. Apparently there is a god, and its reimbursement of donations to enthusiastic supporters of said god are swift and to the dime. And here was I thinking I would get robbed – I'm starting to let that ridiculous paranoia go for good I think.

I then walked down to the station and while standing around, a small man in travel get-up fell down an escalator repeatedly, like a clumsy mouse on an electric treadmill or something. Finally someone managed to stop the escalator and he wobbled down to the bottom looking shaken and bruised. Just as I was considering ditching my bags and running over to see if he was alright, a group of very tall men (who I was slightly afraid of at first) walked past me and said, "Hey, you play in that band, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, right?" On the list of things I expected a stranger to say to me upon arrival in LA, this was well towards the bottom. I got on the (correct!) train and made it to West Hollywood where I called Budge (my gracious host in LA) and started on the road towards his house with my guitar tied to my bag with my jacket.

What became terribly apparent to me in my first few hours here, is that due to my unfamiliarity with real-life America and my familiarity with TV America (I’ve never gone even a month without seeing at least one episode of COPS), I am a very untrusting and suspicious person here. Thankfully, people have been really keen to engage with me, regardless of whether or not they know me, and generally in a friendly way. It’s quite comforting indeed.

So that was my first tour diary entry. I imagine that I won't be inclined to list every single tiny interaction I have with the locals as the days pass. I promise it’ll get more interesting.

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Next episode: LA relaxation, San Fran exploration and co-op living and our first few shows in America.