If you haven’t seen part 1, it can be found HERE ON SUBSTACK or HERE ON THIS WEBSITE
As with part 1, this hasn’t been edited or spell checked and it was meant as an exercise to get down what happened each day a some thoughts and maybe some nice bits come out of it. It’s RAW! YES. (If I sat and edited it, I'd never get it out. So this is how I actually make sure it’s posted in good time)
PART 2
Day 5 - September 7th 2026 - UTRECHT SHOW DAY
Honestly, this day felt bizarrely easy. Suspiciously easy. Every train ran on time, my hotel let me check in early so I could shower before heading to the venue with loads of time. I got ready really early and accompanied Amanda to a patreon meet up where everyone was lovely. The venue staff were fantastic. I don’t really know what else to say about this day? I wrote a good chunk of part 1 on the train to Utrecht - bathing in my pool of European train calm.
The national characteristics of the Dutch for me seem to boil down to being capable, calm and nice. Which as far as national identity go - is pretty nice. Though I suppose some people see the British as polite tea drinkers? Which as anyone reading this knows, is not true. I drink so much tea. Loads of decaf really, all night when I’m at home. As a result of previously being an insane wine guzzling lunatic who couldn’t be trusted. So maybe I’m just being a stupid foreigner and actually Dutch people are deeply evil, but disguising it with a mild mannered and helpful demeanour. But I will say that everyone I met was nice and seemed to be having a great time. Even the hotel staff when I got back after the show were just throwing paper airplanes at each other and giggling, and when one came in the elevator door as it closed, I opened the door again and threw it out and it got a cheer and a thank you from them.
On arriving into Utrecht I sensed a kind of Birmingham energy? I can’t quantify that and I can’t explain, it was just a VIBE. Something in the construction and sightline of the city maybe? Not the bikes of course, they’d all get stolen in Birmingham. But something else about it.
I’ve been trying to think whether I’d been to Utrecht before, because I know I’ve been and done a show somewhere near Amsterdam that wasn’t Amsterdam. But the name escapes me. I’m certain it was a burlesque show called something along the lines of Blue Moon, and I recall having a great time.
I’ve also not really performed in Amsterdam much. As far as my tired brain can recall right now - possibly only once? For this unusual show that I’m not even sure you could get tickets to and was perhaps invite only. Was organised by a guy who I went on a few dates with who turned out to be incredibly rich (I didn’t know) - and he just LOVED burlesque and cabaret shows. So he put on this (possibly private) showcase with performers from all over the world. Flown in from every country and we were all put up in this great hotel in the centre and paid handsomely and to this day I still don’t know what it’s purpose was and why it was in Amsterdam. But hey - I guess the dates worked out for those gigs at least. Fucked my way onto that gig I suppose. And by god I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
The thing I remember most from it was the man who was booked to pick everyone up and drive them in from the airport was giving me explanations of things as we passed them on the drive in. He got very excited and bellowed ‘SWANS!’ And pointed - but at the exact moment he hit his vans wing mirror on a lamp post. “Oh dear. Well, I hope other drivers are kind to me today. I must get you to the venue on time” and on our merry way we continued.
But regarding the Utrecht show, it simply was just a pleasure. So thank you Utrecht for being that.
Sometimes that’s all it needs. Sorry I didn’t go into more specifics, but your calm and capable national demeanour killed potential drama. Next up is Paris, so maybe the drama is saving itself for that.
Day 6 - September 8th 2026 - PARIS SHOW DAY
Of course after I suggest a day was just pleasant and nothing unusual to remark on, I have a day with drip feedings of strangeness. Maybe I can back up my claim that Urecht has a Birmingham energy, as when I walked to the station in the morning to start my Paris journey I saw a very drunk mans trousers fall down. Its not a conclusive argument admittedly, but it’s something.
This train journey was maybe more reflective of the general trains in European cities, rather than the ones that travel different countries. I was packed in with all the commuters on a train that got cancelled, then another got delayed - too many people and not enough space. That’s the kind of trains I know! I had to get from Utrecht to Rotterdam to change for the Eurostar. Between Utrecht and Rotterdam the train stopped at Gouda, where I quietly muttered “Gouda, like the cheese” to my reflection in the window. I made it with loads of time to spare, so I left Rotterdam station and had a meander round the immediate area.
I went into this sort of trendy hipster looking cafe place near the station and tried to order an americano with some almond milk. Tried. Yes, tried.
“Can I get an americano with almond milk please?”
“No, you mean latte?”
“No, an americano with a bit of almond milk”
“An americano has no milk”
“But you can add milk to them?”
“Cortado. You mean cortado?”
“No, I mean americano with just a bit of almond milk”
“An americano is 2 shots of espresso and hot water. There is no milk”
“Yeah I know. But can you add milk?”
“Well…. *Sighs* I can put a note that says to add a dash but I cannot guarantee. This is an unusual request”
She then handed me a ticket and said ‘They will call out the name when it is ready’
Now, I hadn’t given a name. But on the ticket I could see they’d assigned me one, and I would guess that this place just uses famous peoples names as some kind of fun gimmick. So when my coffee was called out it was “An Americano… *look of confusion* with.. Almond milk? …. For John Lennon!”
I text my friend Ro to tell her about the Americano incident, as she absolutely loves a bizarre interaction story and she immediately replied with ‘She’s right. Drink it black you pussy’. So now I know for next time.
Eurostar to Paris all very pleasant as a start, despite once again luggage rack etiquette being entirely out the window. When I asked the guard what to do with my huge suitcase he put it on the floor in the middle of the walkway and said ‘You can leave it here, it is fine with me’. Alright then.
However once we stopped at Antwerp someone was due the seat next to me and when he arrived he was absolutely hammered. And kept pointing up at the luggage rack above my head and shouting in French. I asked if anyone could translate and the women opposite said “He says he needs to go get his bags?” Then he turned and stumbled, laughing maniacally to himself as he walked down the carriage to get his luggage - but he was so hammered he couldn’t really move them. So began swinging the bag outwards a bit to propel himself forward an inch or two, and did this the entire way back down the length of the carriage. After an immense amount of struggle he got his bag up the racks above the seats and sat next to me and started going ‘LALALALALALA’ and pointing at my headphones. He starts taking hits of a vape hidden inside his jacket, then passed out and then pushed my legs out into the aisle with his own stretched out legs. I glanced towards the woman who had previously translated, a beautifully dressed woman of maybe 50 or 60, who gave me the international look of ‘Yes, I also hate him’. Finally I had found a mutual energy with the French - The French.
This feels like my karma for thinking and then suggesting that the time in the Netherlands was too polite and easy. That morning threw all the curveballs at me. I should have complained about the people on bikes or something. Just anything to level out the balance between the days and what they’re allowed to throw at me.
This trip into Paris got me thinking about how I don’t think I’d ever had an entirely nice time there. Either by external forces or by my own volition. Street harassment, me getting too drunk and ruining my own evening, shit shows, broken tech, general unravelling.
I think approaching it as a nearly 37 year old man, who dare I say it… is more balanced (?!?), makes one hell of a difference. For the first time ever, I loved walking through Paris. I found it gorgeous and charming and I finally saw the appeal that I’d always argued with people about. The venue was in Montmartre, which is actually quite grim. There were so many sex shops that by the time I’d seen the 6th or 7th in a row, I was cackling to myself walking past. It was perfect. The buildings were gorgeous, flanked outside by worn in faces of chain smokers and dodgy dealings and I loved it. I also spotted Madame Arthur Cabaret, which I know some of the performers from so took a photo and sent them it, thinking they wouldn’t be there on a Tuesday early afternoon. But low and behold, they were. So Diamanda Callis (one of my favourite stage names I’ve ever heard) - a wonderful singer and drag artist from Paris, came to join me while I had my lunch.
I think I ate in the equivalent of a tourist trap restaurant in Leicester Square, but it was fine enough. Though I don’t speak any French, so ordering was a bit of a palaver but she was great and we got there in the end. My advice to travellers in countries where they really would prefer if you at least attempted the language, just act sort of pathetic - and pity will get you by. Her pity may have had its limits though when I didn’t order a drink. She was perplexed and just kept pointing at the wine menu and looking sad. Then when I ordered a coffee instead she said “BEFORE?! NOT AFTER LUNCH?!”. Clearly furious at this poor English fool.
The show was fantastic and I got a lot of love from the audience, both on stage and afterwards.
Really gorgeous words from people outside the venue afterwards as we were bundling into a cab with all my precious belongings. I was staying with my friend Nathan (incredible photographer and artist! Nathan Selighini - https://www.nathanselighini.com/) just outside of Paris, as they were gonna drive me to the airport for my early flight back to Berlin the next day, to finish off my European adventures solo. As sadly, my European adventures with the Dresden Dolls had come to an end.
It was tiring, as I hadn’t travelled as a support act in a very long time. And it is such a different thing. You’re a bizarre second entity that is also firmly there as the show, but it’s not your event but you’re absolutely a part of it and you’re in this ecosystem of a production in a somewhat othering way - while also connected to the main act?! Basically you’re a side piece. A sexy sexy side piece.
Being a support is also really wonderful because you simply just have to bring YOU. The audience Is there to see someone else, so the pressure is off in the way providing for your own audience is pressured. But instead you can sit back and just be the best yourself to all these people with their open eyes and ears and hearts, ready to take in whatever you’re giving.
And thus my time ended on that tour. They went off to the UK, which ironically I wasn’t able to do because I was due to be back in Berlin to host The Velvet Creepers cabaret.
Day 7 - September 9th 2026 - TRAVEL TO BERLIN
I’d been warned again and again that Paris’s Charles De Gaulle airport was massive and chaotic and busy, so to arrive with plenty of time to spare. So rather than the usual 2 hours before, Nathan very kindly drove me there before the sun had risen to get there a healthy 3 hours before.
Not only had the sun not risen, but neither had a single other passenger. For the first time in my professional life of being at airports at all kinds of hours - this was the first time I’d ever gone through check in and security ON MY OWN. No other passengers. Just me and the security. So I made it through in maybe… 5 minutes?
I’d googled in advance whether there were any gluten free options at the airport for food and the result was along the lines of AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA.
So I cobbled myself a sad breakfast from fruit and packaged boiled eggs from the sells a bit of everything shop brand ‘relay’ that are in all European airports. I asked the man there whether they had any bananas and he shrugged and said “Banana? You should try a restaurant”.
I grabbed a coffee, whipped out my laptop to finish off some work. Boarding time came round quicker than I imagined. A fly was on the flight and I wondered if when the plane arrives at the destination the fly is like “FUUUUCK”. In the same way I imagine pigeons feel when getting on a train at Brighton and ending up in Haywards Heath or Croydon.
The Rest Of The Day(s) / Wrapping Up / Final Thoughts - BERLIN
After landing in Berlin Everything bizarrely easy on all fronts, so much so that I started getting concerned that I was going to get hit with everything going wrong at once. But no. Got to my accommodation for the Velvet Creepers show very quickly. Where when I’ve not been doing the shows, I’ve been lounging around in my boxers and writing and drinking load of coffee and looking up free standing mirrors online.
I’ve had some dinners with friends, I’ve felt at home here. I’ve had an emergency alarm test go off on my phone that was entirely in German (which I can’t read) and then air raid sirens started going off and I had a moment of ‘This is how I die’. But then an English language one appeared on my phone and said it was just a test. So as I try to get my adrenaline down amongst the sound of sirens and alarms across the city and think about my time away. I’ve got one last show to do as of the time writing this, which I need to go leave to do in the next hour. Then a day off tomorrow, then leaving the next morning.
It’s been a real pleasure to do something so intense that also relied on me to get myself everywhere and have my shit together. It’s been a few years of piecing myself back together and remembering what I am capable of. Now that I am back in control of my own career and art, I’ve slowly been able to get back into what I love to do. Create shows. Work with amazing people. Have adventures. Do art.
The note I’d like to leave this on is in regards to the Dresden Dolls.
The tour I was on was the 20th anniversary of their album ‘Yes, Virginia’. An album I went and bought from virgin megastores on release day. I was obsessed with their first self titled album, I couldn’t get enough. Me and my friends went to see them at the London Astoria (RIP) in (I think?) May 2026. We travelled up from Portsmouth to London and sat all day outside the venue to make sure we had a front row/barrier position, and it was the best night of our teenage lives.
Later than year they did 2 shows at the London Roundhouse, which me and my friend Fred managed to get last minute tickets to. We went on the 2nd night and it was this shower of cabaret and circus and bizarre performance art everywhere you looked. Performers in the hallways and balconies and there were 3 main performances stages, hosted by the incredible Margaret Cho.
I saw accordion players and butoh and experimental music being made by marbles in bowls.
During the end of the Dresden Dolls set when they did their song ‘Sing’, we were surrounded by this packed out room of everyone singing together. The stage with every performer from the evening on it singing along as well. I turned to Fred and I said ‘I am going to do shows’.
So at the beginning of 2007 - I tried to make it happen. I did my first proper set as the Joe Black you see today, on July 1st 2007. I only know the day because that was the day that the smoking ban came in to effect. So on my first show, everyone was still able to smoke inside pubs and making the most of it.
20 years after making that statement to Fred, there I was on stage with the band that unlocked that thought in my head. Doing ‘Sing’, the very song that was the moment. And for the last 2 shows, I took over the piano for the ending part so that Amanda could go to the front of the stage herself. The song and the band that created me, I was part of that.
So with my own 20th show anniversary coming up next year in 2007…
….How’s that for a full circle?
