Chaos Adrenalin - The world of Tankus the Henge

Cereal Nights

2011-12-06T00:27:00.001Z

So, lately I've been eating a lot of cereal.

Mainly because it's easy, and if you look hard enough, you can usually get a packet for about a quid. Tonight I'm eating Honey Waffles.

I'm pretty lazy in the kitchen. I can't cook very well because the "if at first you don't succeed" motto has never worked for me when food happens.

In fact, the only thing that I can create with regular success is bread. I'm probably more proud of that than most people would be.

I just got in from a great jazz gig which I almost missed, in Maida Vale. Nat Steele, Leon Greening, Luke Steele and Steve Brown playing bop in a venue which is slightly too trendy for the clientele that descend on a jazz gig. Maybe it was quirky once. The best quirky venues with old signs and rusty lanterns and grizzled barmen who haven't left for years eventually all get bought out and turned into gastro-pubs. Apparently that's happening with Positively 4th St too now.

I almost missed it because I'm still getting my sleep cycle back to normal after Tankus the Henge played Kingston on Thursday, then I drove us to Pembrokeshire, arrived at 6am, and went to sleep. Because we got up in the afternoon, played the gig, stayed up most of the night and then drove back to London, my body clock has gone awry. So tonight I woke up at 8pm, which is when the gig was starting, and jumped on the next train.

Still, it was a great gig and a regular Monday night gig (The Elgin, Maida Vale - 8pm).

A dude called Adam was going on to Ronnie's to play bass in a late night set there. Normally I would have gone along to that as well but I'm playing the piano tomorrow morning in Stockwell for someone's show and I haven't learnt any of the songs yet. I figured I should know the tunes if I want the guy to pay me.

I need that at the moment. I think if I hadn't found this cereal for the price it was, and gone with a more flamboyant one, I would be walking to Stockwell tomorrow.

Jaz

Tankus the Henge at WOMAD 2011

2011-11-16T12:18:00.002Z

You dance, therefore we are!

2011-09-22T15:57:00.003Z

Step right up, ladies and gents... I have to say something.

Thanks very much for coming along to our shows this year in muddy fields, sunny afternoons and torrential downpours where you maybe just stumbled on our show to get out of the rain.

We've had a quality summer, thanks to you, the audience, and the festival crews we've met for the last few months! As a thank-you, we're playing a completely free gig on the 30th of September at the Elgin, in Ladbroke Grove. Details, click here

We won't forget the chaos of playing at Glastonbury, in Shangri La in the middle of the night, and the expanded Fluffy Rock Cafe, at Croissant Neuf with limited electricity but no shortage of enthusiasm from the crowd, Jelly Festival where the entire safety barrier made of hay got destroyed and thrown into the air, Willowman which ended up in us having to travel the 250 miles home on the back of a recovery truck.

Then there's the circus show at Kingston's IYAF, and the three mental gigs at Bestival, which is probably my personal favourite.

I know that a lot of you want albums and we have had none. This is beyond our control, and will be remedied soon!

In the meantime, please don't forget that the only way to experience TANKUS THE HENGE is to come and see the show live.

Please tell your friends and enemies too; word of mouth works wonders!

Accept NO imitation, (although if there is one, I'd love to see it)

Please share us with your friends on facebook and join our mailing list (you get a free song) at the bottom of this post.

In the meantime, there's a lot of love here for you, but you still can't take us home to meet yer mum.

Thanks!

RIP Christine, the original Tankus the Henge transit van.

2011-09-06T19:50:00.000Z

It's with a heavy heart that we pass on the news that Christine, our original transit van for many gigs and many, many miles, has been crushed. We stopped driving her when we grew in number, and it seems she just never recovered from that.
Let's raise a glass to Christine, one of the most recognisable band vans around. We have gone into the time vaults and found some pictures of her with us, in various different adventures and paint jobs.

September shows.

2011-09-05T22:52:00.003Z

follow @tankusthehenge on twitter for up to date changes.

Bestival!

Thursday 8th September. On the Bandstand, 7pm.

Friday 9th September. In the Polka Tent. 11pm

Sold out.

Ascot.

Wednesday 14th September. Jagz. (with support from Luke Roberts)

01344878100 for tickets.

Maidenhead.

Friday 16th September. The Hobgoblin. 9pm.

Tickets on door.

London.

FREE SHOW.

Friday 30th September. The Elgin. Ladbroke Grove tube. 8pm.

Cassiopeia and the Caterpillar

2011-07-19T22:53:00.004Z

Once upon a time, a girl was leaving her house to visit her dear old granny. Her granny was very, very old; much older than anyone could remember, and moved about with the aid of a wooden caterpillar three times the size of her. The caterpillar was charmed and was very heavy but got Granny where she needed to go. At night, passers by could observe the silhouette of Granny moving around the house by the light of a flickering hurricane lantern (gas was all she swore by) and the sound of the caterpillar's eighteen legs on the creaking floorboards.
The sun was still in the sky when the girl, whose name was Cassiopeia, set off to see Granny. The climate where she lived was mild and boring, and the neighbours rarely spoke to eachother, for fear of causing offence with conflicting views and the consequences thereafter. There were no barbeques, street parties or wild drunken tango nights, like in Lewisham, because no-one had any friends. Once a year they got together on the hill just outside the town to burn one of the witches that passed through. Apart from that, the witches were left alone and so was everyone else.
Cassiopeia was taking her Granny some fresh bread and olives from her garden, as she did every Wednesday. It was agreed, that since Cassiopeia had killed Granny's cat the year before with diesel and airfix glue, she'd have to go and visit the slimy old hag every week, and endure a whole evenings reprimanding from the top of that awful wooden freak insect.
Cassiopeia rounded the curve at the end of the road leading to Granny's house, and felt the box of matches in her pocket. The curtains were open, and she could see the caterpillar skulking around the kitchen with Granny doing something over the stove. She wandered up to the door in no particular hurry and let herself in.
Granny. She said.
Hello my dear. Leered Granny. Have you bought rancid old olives again from your father's miserable vegetable patch?
Of course. Replied Cassiopeia.

Then she lit a match, put it inside the box and shoved it into the wooden caterpillars mouth which looked at her with dead unseeing eyes, and as it exploded into flames she ran out of the door, locking it from the outside.

As the thatched roof blazed, Cassiopeia sat on the hill and ate all the olives and the bread, thinking of what she was going to tell the king.

Postcards from Glastonbury Festival 2011

2011-07-19T09:16:00.011Z

Photographs by Roxi Kiley

Willowman Festival

2011-06-19T17:50:00.001Z

After our 250 mile journey this morning to Northallerton for the charming Willowman festival, we pulled onto the ground in a cloud of smoke, exhaust and black coming out of the front instead of the back.

Then we played our show to a crackin' audience who danced for us in the overcast afternoon, (thanks boys and girls!) and then scrounged some free food before checking out the rest of the festival.

After the wonderful Rik deduced the problem, I called the AA and asked for a mend. When he came, he declared in his northern drawl, "ye'd be mad t' drive home in'at...you'll be gassed like."

So, we had to make the decision whether to put our beloved van on a truck for an 8 hour trip tomorrow morning...or tonight. There's more music to play tomorrow so we HAVE to get back.
We're taking our tents down... Slightly disgruntled as neither Tim or me have slept in our new tents yet! Tim hasn't got a clue how to pack his tent up, so I think (and bear in mind it's pouring with rain) he's actually putting it in the van as it is.

Blimey. Not looking forward to this drive home.
Good job the temporary citizens of Willowman are accommodating and enthusiastic!

Beans, sweet tea and tinnitus

2011-06-18T06:08:00.001Z

So we're awake at ridiculous hour (6am) which some people do every day to go down the mine. Our mission today is get to Willowman festival - about 250 miles away, before we play at 3pm...if you're going!

Louis bought a new waistcoat but he got it from Shanghai and it's stuck in customs... Bad times!

Festivals are coming...return of the blog!

2011-06-15T17:11:00.002Z

So... we're about to play some more shows in muddy fields with the weather joining in and thousands of mad party people who are all trying to forget that their gas bill is due on Monday.

I personally can't wait, I love festivals. Always have done. I love how cleanliness goes flying out of the window and the sight of one last tin of macaroni cheese can make you jump for joy.
This year we're playing Willowman, Glastonbury, Extalgic, Hop Farm, Croissant Neuf and Bestival.

At the moment I'm sitting in my kitchen musing on whether I should empty the contents of my under-the-stairs cupboard into the corridor to look for my wellies now, or after I've had some beans on toast.

Yes, with me, my normal life diet is pretty much the same as my festival diet.

Riddles

2011-03-11T14:09:00.000Z

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

2011-02-22T18:07:00.001Z

After major contributions to and playing countless shows in the UK, France and Albania and on our new album in America, and being a founder member of the band, Chris Owen has departed from Tankus the Henge. He is an amazing musician and has helped shape the band to what it is now. We have had many great, mad adventures with him and he is a true friend with an incredible family who let us write many of our songs in their barn! We all wish him the very best.

Stepping into Chris's footprints is the ex-circus guitarist Tim Fulker. After running away with a circus in India when he was eleven, he learnt the ropes and how to roller-skate and stiltwalk before moving to Wales to be a hermit. When we came a calling he renounced his hermit lifestyle to play the guitar very, very loudly. Our show at the Dublin Castle will be his first one with us. Don't miss it.

Finally in New Orleans

2010-12-20T11:39:00.001Z

It's been a while since the road blog was updated, so here is the next bit.
After the standard morning coffee for most of the band, and breakfast at a fast food joint (being vegetarian in the deep south is very difficult and I had to rely on baked potatoes and apple pie) we hit the road and approached New Orleans several hours later. Drove along a long straight causeway type elevated road with no junction for about 25 miles. Water on both sides, some ramshackle houses built under the road right on the waters edge. We changed radio stations as the one we'd had on had got consistently less appropriate for our surroundings. Songs from 'Grease' do not fit the mournful beauty of the Big Easy skyline. Muddy Waters was howling on another station, so we let him and turned it up.

As usual we had to catch up with Time, as it always seems to get a head start in any journey we make, also we hadn't the foggiest idea where the venue was. Howlin' Wolfs Den, on South Peters Street - see, I can remember it now! Directions procured from a dimly lit, friendly bar got us there and as others worried about food I set off to walk to the Mississippi. My heart raced as I climbed steps towards it anticipating my first glimpse of that famous river. After walking through a colonnade of shops and seafood stalls, there it was, and I realised it was just a river. The water wasn't even brown. However, paddle steamers still ply their trade for tourists, one in particular, the Natchez, still powered by steam rolls up and down the river with a jazz band on the deck.

Later that evening we met the band we had a gig with, The Dirty Bourbon River Show, and made our acquaintance with the gentlemen involved; Noah, Jimmy, Charlie and Bootsy. Be sure to check them out and lose your inhibitions to their grooves Cab Calloway would jive to.

Our show in Howlin' Wolf's was a lot of fun, if quiet audience-wise in our first half. By the time the DBRS had played a set and we were on again, the atmosphere was more electric and several girls had taken most of their clothes off.
A late night out followed, on Frenchman Street where we danced to a fantastic swing band in a venue called the Spotted Cat, and I met a guy called Ben who grew up in the same town as me. Strange...
Meandering our way in giant curves back to the hotel, I marvelled at the curiously European architecture. This appears to have some history, whereas Nashville, although it is fascinating and it's inhabitants are warm and welcoming, feels like it was built recently, in the grand scheme...
Back in the hotel, around 3am, we found to our delight that the outdoor, unheated pool and hot tub were unguarded so spent the early hours jumping from one extreme to the other. This was yet another moment previously described, of lying on my back in the water in a strange city stargazing.
In the morning, determined not to waste a moment I woke up and and wandered off into the backstreets and down the tramlines on the waters edge. I watched the Natchez moan at the sky in a spray of steam and magnificently roll lazily away. I took a streetcar into Main Street and encountered a parade, band, feathers and dancers winding it's way through the centre, and back with the band later on, saw the Hurricane Katrina damage with my own eyes and I realised what a brave, vibrant city this is, and how much of a crime it was by the government to show such a lack of love when it was needed the most.
I was welcomed so warmly in New Orleans - I wish we could have spent more than three days there.
Later that evening we drove to the Circle Bar for our second show, this one with the excellent Revivalists; one of the tightest, groovin', funkin' bands you'll see live.
When the city was flooded, the Circle Bar was fifteen feet underwater. It's a great venue, and it was rammed for our show.
Afterwards we carried on the revelry on the balcony of a bar somewhere else in the city, and since we were leaving in the morning for Nashville, friendships were made and parting was sweet sorrow, with promises to return next year. We got back to the hotel in the back of a friends car, a few of us. A few too many for the car. Four in the middle, some lapriding and me and a new friend in the boot, watching the lights whizz by sideways. Determined to relive the previous nights exploits in the pool, and having talked it up to our female companions, to their amusement, or bemusement, we all stripped and jumped into the hot tub. Apart from Jake, who jumped in with his clothes on. After a few minutes of raucousness the security guard came up to us, didn't say a word, and turned the bubbles off. The nerve! There we were, trying to host a party and he came and spoilt it. We all got out, feigning apologies and faux dejection, apart from Jake, who hid...under the water.
I just doubled up laughing, wondering how long he would last, hiding from a grumpy security guard at the bottom of a jacuzzi. The next hour was spent waiting for him to leave us alone, then all jumping back in again. Mike, usually attempting to keep an eye on our misdemeanours from a safe distance, was in the bar and heard a commotion between security and reception staff. I don't think he needed to ponder for more than three seconds that we may have been the cause.

We really don't act well in civilised society unless we have eaten something. Even then, we're not your picture perfect gentlemen every hour of the day. So breakfast in the morning, then the long highway back to Tennessee. We stopped for dinner at Chillis in Tupelo, the birthplace of Elvis. Just thought I'd mention it as Tony the proprietor was a good guy, he looked after us, and if you're ever there, go and say hello.
That's all for now.
Jaz.

Changing of the guard

2010-12-08T00:54:00.001Z

As the curtains shut on 2010, our most eventful year by far, performing in such far flung places as the USA, Albania and the Lake District, inciting revelry and riots at twelve festivals, and making a new record in Tennessee, we're saying goodbye to George Bird, who has played drums for Tankus the Henge since June 2006.
George is concentrating on other projects including the brilliant Saltwater Samurai, I urge you to check them out and download the EP from Bandcamp, even better, catch them live.
http://www.saltwatersamurai.bandcamp.com
We wish him all the best in the future.

Taking over on drums is Seb "Seabass" Laverde and we're very excited to play our first shows with him in February in London. To find out more about Seb, stay tuned! Whatever you do, don't miss it.

In the few months between now and when we see you, have a great Christmas and New Year. Beg, borrow and steal the album we were selling this year as it's now unavailable - if you have it, give it out!

In with the new...

2010-11-28T00:09:00.002Z

From tomorrow night, we're going to be launching previews of the record that we cut in Nashville, TN two months ago. We're very excited about this and can't wait for everyone to hear the full, cataclysmic spectacle next year.
However, due to the legal spiderweb that is the music industry, we have to take down the album that is on MySpace, facebook and Bandcamp.
You will no longer be able to stream it or download it from Monday 29th of November. It's on sale for the shatteringly reduced price of £5 only! Available at www.tankusthehenge.bandcamp.com
- go there now before it's too late! We'd be much obliged if you told your friends on facebook and twitter and all the other 21st century methods you guys and gals communicate.

Added to that, if you own one of the CD's from a festival this year, copy it and pass it on.. there aren't any more!

Sorry the blogging seems to have gone quiet recently... we know there's more America blog to come, and also what we've been doing recently is very exciting and we'll tell you all about it at the opportune moment. But for now, it's a month to the day after Boxing Day, so start being Christmassy and download the first Tankus the Henge album before it's too late!
www.tankusthehenge.bandcamp.com
Talk to you all soon,
Tankus the Henge et al

Graceland and Highway 61 (the long road south)

2010-10-19T22:57:00.001Z

Eventually we found our way out of Nashville and on the road to Memphis. I think it was the 65. Americans don't appear to use sat navs yet. Maybe this is because they're further behind than the UK in technology stakes, or maybe they just know there way around better than we do. I never worked it out. In any case, our hired car (with aircon, interior mood lighting, automatic sliding doors, under floor smuggling compartments and all the country stations you can imagine as standard) did not have GPS. It had a compass. In the dashboard.

Graceland was something I could not miss, I don't usually go for the 'tourist' option but I grew up listening to Elvis and as a performing artist, he kinda wrote a lot of the guidelines. The house itself is a strange environment of Presley's tacky and usually ridiculous decor, but kept absolutely faithful. It's exactly as he left it. Definitely got a sense of the family man and held-back artist. He always yearned to perform in Europe and the fact that he never did is a huge shame. The Presley memorial/grave meditation garden is one of the strangest, enchanting places I went. You should see it if you pass by.

We hit the road for the South. New Orleans via Highway 61.

This is called the Blues Highway because it passes through Tennessee, Mississippi and Louisiana. It's slower than the interstate but has beautiful scenery as you get into Mississippi and then Louisiana.
We drove for a few hours and with our minds made up about sleeping somewhere, (New Orleans still five hours away) we said, passing through a one horse town, that we'd stop at the next motel we found. This turned out to be over an hour away, so somewhere in-between our misinformed decision and Greenville, where we finally stopped, I had to take a leak.
As good ideas go, the next one isn't flying high. We stopped in a closed gas station, and as I got out to find a tree I realised that we were in the midst of a huge trailer park, on both sides of the road. The trees were unbearably close to these palaces on wheels, so laughing nervously to myself, I pissed on the gas station instead.

Greenville's claim to fame is that Jim Henson was born there. And Kermit. That's all I could find. Neither are there anymore. We stayed in a motel with the trucks balling by outside. The usual argument began on who was going to share rooms with who. In Nashville we had been split in half, with everyone having his own double bed, Chris in the live room, Dan and Jake in their own personal bombsite, and Mike, George and myself in the other studio with a such a selection of strange items suspended from the ceiling I felt as if we lived in a chandelier reject emporium.

So after Mike deals with the sleepy proprietor;
Mike: We'd like three rooms please.
Man: That is fine. Where are you from sir?
Mike: London.
Man: (jabbing himself in the chest and slightly raising his voice) I am INDIAN.
Mike: I know.

We moved in for the night, we appeared to have four rooms. Chris with me, to watch apocalyptic cartoons until we fell asleep or the world ended, whichever sooner, Jake and Dan the slothmen together, foolish idea if inexperienced. We have poured water over Dan's head in the past. George and Mike had double rooms to themselves. Unless they both ended up sleeping with rednecks and just didn't mention it in the morning.
When the sun rose I woke up and wrote to a few people at home before walking to 61 and gazing down it. After everyone was awake apart from The Other Room we moved the car and hid it around the back of the motel, I had a vision of Dan and Jake sloping off down the highway with their instruments. In fact, Jake appeared shockingly promptly looking suave and collected and I don't think Dan even noticed it was in a different place.
The filter coffee replaces the blood.
After the carnivores (everyone else) hit KFC for breakfast because there was nowhere else I felt thankful for being a plant-eater, and we rolled onwards towards the South.

To be continued. Please tell your friends!

In which the right party takes place in the best wrong house possible.

2010-10-15T23:47:00.009Z

Following the bluegrass pickin' party, (we were there with Robin, our producer, Mike the tour manager, Kentucky Kenan and our recently acquainted friends, Anna, Dana and Ben) we were asked to leave by the police. For some reason they got involved in the party and were quite stern about everyone getting off the land immediately after the curfew. Having no plan, we were invited to go back to Anna's house to have drinks and stay. As there were eight bodies going, it was too many for one truck, so I jumped in Kentucky's truck with Chris and the others went with Ben. Going via a gas station (they call them gas stations) to pick up beer and chips (they call them chips), we still hadn't really been out of Nashville at this point, so I for one was still surprised at the sheer scale of trucks and Coca Cola servings... on the contrary, the others were more surprised at the Corona bottles being undersized. Practically able to finish one in a couple of swigs. Deceptive... as it turned out later on.

We pulled up at a turning off the main road that winds it's way into the countryside from Downtown Nashville, and bade farewell to Kentucky Kenan, leaving us with just the one truck. It was quite a long way out, far enough for the houses to look like mansions. This was no exception. It had everything; pool, walk in wardrobe, garage bigger than my house in London, bathrooms round every corner, a bookshelf with three copies of War and Peace and a fully laid out dining table - which was odd.

The kitchen was spotless. I'm used to living in a constant state of transition between spotless and bombsite in my kitchen, but this was well and truly sparkling. After a couple of minutes of Anna searching for the lightswitch, (sure, I lose my lightswitch in my house too occasionally), we had a good look and I noticed a champagne glass full of skittles. I thought nothing of it, the surreal tangent this night was taking was making me think differently about suspicious details, especially when Ben turned on the oven and after a few minutes smoke started to billow out from the closed door. A common occurrence in new ovens. Thinking back, I'm still not sure what he was planning to cook. I remember there only being a bag of cookies, the aforementioned glasses of skittles in each room and a huge bowl of lemons. "Here, we have plenty of lemons! Let's jump off the roof!" announced Anna, with the gusto and presence of a ringmaster at the start of the circus.

As Jake, Anna and myself sat down at the beautifully presented dining table, we realised that we did have some other form of nourishment, a bag of popcorn, and a bag of genetically-altered popcorn which were all the colours of the rainbow. We chose this and served it out onto the heart shaped crockery infront of us.

As Jake and Anna were getting on like a house on fire, discussing literature, I glanced out of the open door just in time to see Chris flip into the pool in his boxers. The darkened garden beyond that had no movement at all. It was the middle of nowhere. Just trees, this mad house, the stars and the road outside.

Jake stood up and rubbed his nose on a porcelain toad sitting on the mantlepiece.
"Hello Toadle"
Turning and announcing to us, he continued;
"He was my brother, I knew him well. He's my favourite author..."
"Who was?" replied Anna.
"Adolf..."
"Hitler?!"
"Yeah! But he smells of ham."
"What's your favourite book?"
"The one about the horses and the bear...and how they find a balloon."
"Mein Kampf?"

I headed outside to the pool to find Dan and Dana sitting at the table, and I lit the lantern as it was the darkest part of the night, and a fog was rolling across the fields towards us. Slightly nervous about the qualities of an unknown fog, I stripped and jumped into the pool. I still can't dive. I never have been able to. In fact, I get nervous about jumping off things into water, even if it's a few feet above the surface. Dan is a great diver, and back in Albania we had a great time abusing the swimming pools in the hotels on tour, but when there's a diving board present I get queasy and tend to stay away from it. Dan persuaded me to try and launch myself off the end but upon arriving at the moment, my left foot got scared and just fell off the edge, I followed, ungainly smashing into the water sideways and coming up with water in my nose and ears and Dan laughing at me.

In our hosts pool, in the middle of the night, with cooling fog gradually drawing itself like a vast blanket across the stars, I felt calm and excited at the same time. There's something strange about floating in water, looking at the sky, in a place you've never been. I have experienced this exact feeling a handful of times this summer and it's a moment you want to bottle and keep, but obviously that's impossible. So, true to the cause of feeling floating cosmos oblivion, I am just going to have to end up in situations where I can do this.

Tired of jumping in and out of the pool, the popcorn eaten and a suggestion that we should put the barbeque, tables and chairs into the pool dismissed as not worth the repercussions, a giant woozy game of hide and seek ensued, with the obligatory countdown leading to some amazing hiding places being discovered, or not, as in Chris's case.
I hid on top of a massive oak wardrobe and survived a raid of inside the magnificent specimen of furniture by Dan and Jake, who never looked up, only to be busted by Dana dryly saying "there's someone on top" from the doorway.
After about two hours of searching for Chris, we gave up and fell asleep with the sun in the east starting to burn away the fog. From what I gathered the next morning. Chris had been discovered on the roof, like a crazed cat clinging on to the chimney and refusing to come down and accept that he had been 'found'. Giving up, the discoverers of his whereabouts went to bed themselves and we were all woken up in the morning by the front door opening.
A stout figure, slightly rotund with impressive whiskers stepped over the hearth and gaped.

Keep calm. It's probably her dad.

I rolled off the couch and pulled my boots on.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" he fired at us, metaphorically.
"Er... we're leaving? Who are you?"

"I'm Dick. I'm selling this house. What are you doing in it?"

OK. Panic now.

I had to remember which shower I had left my sodden clothes in. After taking them off to jump in the pool, the splash of us bounding in and out had made them just as soaked as if I had just gone in with them on.
While I was picking up items that belonged to me and my eyes were adjusting to the increasingly bad situation, I passed someone completely naked wrapped up in a carpet. You learn to just accept these things.

The last words he said to us were "You better roll your joint and get out".

So we did.

American videoblog - part one

2010-10-11T08:48:00.004Z

Making the new Tankus the Henge album

2010-10-09T23:56:00.004Z

photos by Jim DeMain

Full Moon Pickin' Party with added accordion

2010-10-09T00:59:00.001Z

Bluegrass instruments: guitar, banjo, fiddle, dobro, upright bass, washboard, saw. Do you see 'accordion' in that list? No, neither do I.
When we arrived at the Full Moon Pickin' Party, it was well under way, and there were hundreds of folk playin', eatin', drinkin', and dancin' on a farm in the middle of nowhere. We'd been invited along and told to bring our instruments, so there we were. Bluegrass is a genre rooted deeply in american tradition, and most of the songs date back to the beginning of the world. (that's about two hundred years to you and me)
In fact, a lot of the songs were imported using the minds of unsuspecting Irishmen hoping to find their fortune in a new and exciting land.
I approached a group with my abomination of an instrument and they were enthusiastic, if a little nervous, about my entrance. They asked me if I knew any bluegrass and I replied in the negative, hearing this, they launched into 'my grandfathers clock'. The eagle eyed among you will remember that Dan and myself had recorded this, as a joke, for a post on facebook videos. It's probably still there. I couldn't believe my luck. Instead of being embarrassed with not knowing the song about moonshine, the dog and how the grass looks better in the oklahoma sun, I actually knew the chords, the words and all the harmonies to boot. I waited a few bars to make it seem as if I was working it out, and then joined in with Ol' Wheezy. The musicians, delighted (or it may have been relief) that I could actually play, asked if I had any tunes and we played a gypsy number before the rest of the band sauntered over and gave a spirited rendition of 'life is a Grimm tale' to the crowd of puzzled, amused faces. We made some good friends that night and I have been back to a couple of bluegrass jams since.

Smiling still makes the day go quicker

2010-09-23T22:56:00.002Z

So last night was spent in the Melrose, a bar frequented by musicians, loners and other freaks who all shoot pool and moan about the crap that gets churned out of other jukeboxes but the one in here is tolerable so it's here they stay and nurse their beers and look at the waitresses and think of the road.
Soon though, when the Melrose closes and rats go back to the starting line the ones who love life at night dance across 8th avenue to the billiards hall and shout at the cars and the stars and the tzars behind bars.

In the billiards hall down the steps away from the balmy night in an old cinema, they don't show pictures there these days, but guys and girls drink and play pool while the battered Wurlitzer juke in the corner blasts sounds that a generation would die for and did die for.
While the band play doubles I get involved with a game of shuffleboard which involves pushing a puck with skill and finesse along a polished salt covered surface, getting as far to the end as possible without slipping off, as well as knocking off the other players pucks. A trio of hipster musicians named Logan, Stanton and Joshua introduced me to the rules and we played a while. I'd wandered over there as I had grown tired of watching the pool, even though girls, entranced with taking aim, make very good painting subjects, but my skills with a cue are mildly horrific and I'd sooner try and balance one on my chin with a tray heaped with hot oysters on top than actually attempt a serious game. However, after departing the shuffleboard contest, I did play one game of pool and got four balls in the holes but it didn't change my life so I ended up at the bar with Danny who was trying to blag a free haircut.

This morning I woke up and discovered I had left the lava lamp on and fallen asleep to it's crooked glow, and during the night it had overheated and the glass had cracked. There was red wax all down the wall, a pinky molten mess had sunk into the carpet and the water from the lamp was surrounding the electricity socket. Hearing a pack of dogs going spare outside, and surrounded by clothes, loose change and lava lamp I had to change my environment, and fast. I found my jeans in the corridor and crashed over sideways as a result of getting my left foot stuck in a hole halfway down the leg. As usual we made life difficult for ourselves by sleeping in two separate buildings with one key for each building. Therefore my morning ritual involves rubbing the sleep outa my eyes while I walk to the other building, and then hauling myself over the gate, missing the barbed wire on the top and jumping down the other side to grab the key off the table to let myself back out, then waking the dead, or so it seems, from their unconscious slumber within a darkened lair.

Aptly today we were recording a new version of Smiling Makes The Day Go Quicker. I was slightly apprehensive as the first version has been around for ages, you all know it and I must have played it close to a thousand times. We've recorded the basis of most of the new record and deliberately left Smiling 'till last as we thought we knew it so well. Took about an hour and several coffees, but we ended up with a version that you'll have to wait to hear as this record isn't coming out for a while. If you still haven't got your hands on the current one, go to http://www.tankusthehenge.bandcamp.com and check it out. It won't be around forever. Neither will we.
Keep smiling, people, it's not the end of the world!

In which we found ourselves on the wrong side of a barbed wire fence...

2010-09-21T05:16:00.015Z

Let me just map out the area of our roamings for you. In case you wished to imagine more accurately our escapades.
If you turn right out of the studio you find yourself heading through a boneyard with pickups scattered around and truck trailers waiting to be dragged to the east or west coast with all manner of articles inside, like the trucks that arrive at the Goodwill store on the right daily. Another right and you get to the railroad with it's huge, grinding engines goading mile long trains of "Building your America" and "Union Pacific" trucks up to Canada or down to Mexico. Every twenty minutes or so another mammoth engine crawls past with blinding flashing lights and a horn that sounds like thirty brass players that believe they are playing notes from the same chord until they actually play it, and then just carry on anyway, even though the audience's ears have long since been damaged.

If you happened to go to the other way out of the studio, you end up in a railroad yard, which you can cross over, with Old Mrs Grissom's salads neon light on a water tower as a focal point. This takes you towards the Tennessee fairgrounds site, which is due to be torn down I believe, which is a terrible shame because as I mentioned in a previous letter, the Speedway is fantastic, and is currently having it's final race on the 4th of October. Anyway, the Fairgrounds Speedway was the site for the Tennessee State Fair, which finished yesterday and has eight foot barbed wire fences with locked gates.

After taking part in an argument about why you shouldn't put a half can of baked beans, tomatoes or anything else for that matter, in the fridge (still in the can), and also a separate, but related argument regarding who couldn't manage to eat a whole can of beans anyway; Michael and I set off into the dark on our 1950's bicycles, lent to us by our producer. The lack of suspension makes bumping over the railroad tracks in the yard a painful experience, unless you stand on the pedals. While I was doing this, though, the bike slipped out of gear and as all my weight was on the pedals, I lost my balance and fell off into the gravel. Fortunately I wasn't going at a breakneck speed like I would be in a while.
Having explored the nearby vicinity, and visited the fairground the previous night, we decided to pay Old Mrs Grissom a nighttime visit and we took the hill that runs past her salad joint. Slightly wary of my earlier mistake with the gears, I held on to the fragile gear changer as if my life depended on it as I forced the bike up the hill. The seat is also slightly too high, so if I slow down too much on corners and inclines, consequences may cause suffering.
At the top of the hill, we came across the Oasis nightclub looking vibrant and .... shut.

After this we reached a wide road heading downtown with practically no cars on it, and without warning, Michael took off down the hill towards the beckoning lights of Nashville, where there's a curious skyscraper that is shaped like Batman's head. Check it out if you're there.
So while Speedy freewheels towards Batman, I relish the moment (sitting slightly awkwardly on a bike in the middle of the freeway looking at nighttime Nashville) and then take off after him. I heard the unmistakable wail of a cop siren and almost panic. We have no lights on but even though the road is well lit, on a quiet night like this it would be easy pickings for police to shop some rogue englishmen. Just before we can cycle to safety the barriers come down on the railroad crossing and then a hulking, groaning metal monster lurches into view, it's creaking boxcars and cabooses blocking the road. These usually take about fifteen minutes to pass, so we veer off to the left and go down a side road, which ends up in the seedy looking site of Tennessee State Fair, now closed and half dismantled. The gate is open, and we saunter in, myself curious about the dinosaur bones structure of a semi-disassembled rollercoaster and other assorted fairground rides in all manner of completion. The remnants of a giant ferris wheel, devoid of neon lights and lovers wrapped up in eachother high above the fair, a ghost train with the ghouls long since lost when the electricity died, and a carousel covered in sheets, the whirling lights and blaring organ vanished along with the customers...
Suddenly lights appeared over the hill where we entered, and we scram on our bikes, towards the centre of the fair and behind a shed full of sleeping camels and llamas. A dromedary camel, far from home, winked at me as we passed in the dim electric light. The cover the shed provided let us get out nearer the opposite exit of the fair, being guarded by four huge bears.

At the gate, we found to our horror, that it was locked. Briefly covered by the bears, I scrambled around looking for some sort of pedestrian exit, the lights behind of a jeep getting closer and closer. Nothing. All the gates are secured with hefty padlocks even Popeye couldn't break unless he had Mrs Grissom's spinach.
Realising that the patrolling jeep had seen us, I started to roll my bike down the hill, jumped on and was heading for a gate which looked open. I could see Mike behind the car, heading down the hill in the opposite direction. No luck, the gate I was heading for had a dead end beyond, just the carnival workers wagons and caravans behind the fence. I've lived and worked on a fair, but I wasn't prepared to knock on the door and say "hello. I shouldn't be here right now as it's closed and locked, but somehow I managed to get in by accident, and now I'm being chased. Could I come in?"
Just as the jeep was passing Mr Bear, Mrs Bear, Boris and Bertie bears on their truck, I saw the lights of a car enter the site, with an automatic gate just starting to close. Forgetting about the gear problems, the saddle and the loose mudguard that threatened to throw itself into my wheel, I pedalled hell for leather towards the closing gate and saw that Mike was doing the same. With just enough room for both of us, we shot out into the road with the gate clanging shut behind.

On our way back to the studio, with the moon blazing it's cold glow onto the mid-west, we passed the junction with a pedestrian crossing that always says "DON'T WALK". It never changes. There's a man there, with a long beard. He'll never get to the other side until they fix that light.

Old English bicycles and the Petrojvic Blasting Company

2010-09-19T07:07:00.010Z

So... after three days of recording and Jaz devouring cheese slices on rice crackers, we had a day off. Breakfast involved cereal slopping around a bowl held by hands covered in sun cream attached to a jauntily moving body propped up on legs that hadn't come around to the idea of being awake yet, as the previously mentioned meal was hastily consumed to the time of the songs we were listening to... recordings of what we'd achieved, or not, so far in Nashville.
As the long summer days turn to autumn (or fall!), the temperature is at a comfortable 30 degrees C, hotter than your average day back in Blighty. We thought that due to there being no cloud in the sky, and us being the avid cyclists we are, well, apart from Jake, Dan, Chris, George...and myself, we decided to go for a bike ride.
Kitted out with very vintage English bicycles (mine was from the early 1950's) we set off with water, no food, and less of a plan. Let's face it, cycling doesn't come naturally to everyone. Jake's trousers falling down and Chris having a stupendous crash into someone's front garden are all evidence of this. Pretty soon George and myself got fed up with the others crashing into things and taking ages to get anyway so we caned it out of sight. Me on 'Old Clanker' and George on a one-speed bike. Up hills. Quite a few.

It was fantastic to be cycling through Tennessee with the wind in our hair and the sun driving us along and burning all the sweat and bad stuff away. We cycled through intersections, faster and faster, down Granny White Pike, and slowed down to climb a hill with a sign "You are now entering Forest Hills City Limits". Looking behind me I couldn't see the rest of the band for miles, only George and his bike with a gear missing, pounding up the hill.
By this time I needed refuelling and we came across a remote gas station with children playing on the porch, and parents in wooden rocking chairs smiling at them and narrowing their eyes at these two perspiring visitors with battered bicycles in the middle of nowhere. George and I decided that one of the others had either had a heart attack going up one of the hills, or they'd turned at one of the intersections after losing us, and were now ambling through the mid-west, destined to grow old and sprout long beards that tangle in the spokes of their creaking bikes. Passers by would say "there go the wandering Englishmen on their pedals, they sure never did find the way home..."

We returned to the studio after our excursion to Forest Hills and, expecting the others to be back already, were faced with a locked studio, and barbed wire topped gate. That hadn't been part of the plan. Little did we know that Jake, Chris and Dan, with Mike the tour manager had cycled back to a huge guitar shop and were giving the guitars and the girls the eye.
Not to be outdone, I recalled Brad, our producer, giving us directions to his house nearby, and for once in my life, I had actually taken in something that someone said to me. Off we went, and sure enough I'd listened correctly and soon we were sitting in his kitchen eating freshly baked cinnamon rolls courtesy of his wife. We listened to her educating us about the lives of solitary bees in the wild west, and told her the reasons why South London is better than North London. Solitary bees don't make honey, and taxis, and tourists still don't go south of the river...

After being reunited with the gang, we headed to Tennessee State Fair, up on an old site overlooking the city and the legendary Fairgrounds Speedway, one of the oldest stock car racetracks in America. The TN state fair bore much resemblance to a large European funfair, as far as the rides were concerned. The strange thing was the lack of music, most of the atmosphere came purely from people screaming, laughing and kids crying because they let their balloon go or dropped their ice cream. The State Fair didn't stop at rides though, it had animals, (llamas, camels, cows, sheep, goats, hens, rabbits, ducks, alpacas) exhibition halls of green energy, a stage with the time-honoured country singer leading the crowd in a version of "Stand by your man", and a shed with hundreds of sheep and their owner, a woman who looked blind as a bat spinning wool into yarn, telling three entranced children that "my lawnmower makes all this wool, I bet your lawnmower can't make wool, it probably just makes noise! Mine makes wool and fertiliser..."
Come to think of it I've never seen a bat spinning yarn.

Freewheeling down the hill away from the neon lights of the fair, we got back to the studio and a car screeched up with half the band in, who appeared to have kidnapped a gorgeous country singer named Maggie and driven off with her. The car was definitely not big enough for all of us, and sitting with my head out of the window, willed the police not to pull up at the lights adjacent to us. The doors exploded open like a car in the ring at the circus and everyone piled out like bedraggled clowns who suddenly didn't know where they were but were intent on having a ball.

Have a ball we did, in a vibrant art gallery turned music venue Ovvio Arte (www.ovvioarte.com) we discovered a group of musicians who had just returned from playing in Bulgaria, Serbia, Albania and the rest of Europe by the sounds of it, this felt like their homecoming show and I couldn't resist adding my cossack dancing to the jumping crowd. They are called Petrojvic Blasting Company, four guys, sometimes five, playing accordion, trumpet, trombone, helicon and other assorted instruments. We offered them a show in London and invited them to our studio to have a party. Maybe we'll end up in Albania at the same time in the future. Check them out, and if they're playing near you go and watch! http://www.theblastingcompany.com

Not bad for a day off.
What's happening in England, cold yet?
Keep in touch,

Nashville part one

2010-09-16T22:43:00.002Z

After a ten hour flight to Charlotte, North Carolina from London, I realised that we were in America. Strangers looked me in the eye and asked how I was. Strangely, even though it was a connecting flight to Nashville, we had to collect our hold luggage and re-do the whole malarky of checking it in AGAIN to put on another plane. Because I'm a pain, I brought four things onto the plane when most sane people only have two. Two of these were my trusty accordion, which wheezes with tired enthusiasm every time I put it back together after another spot of running maintenance, and my trombone which is too good lookin' to leave in the UK.
Unfortunately my trombone had to surface from being in the hold and then go back down into the murky depths of another plane, but it had to be taken to a special 'valet' for that to happen. So while the friendly US Border control grilled Mr Drums and Mr Bass until they're crusty, I decided it was a good idea to wander off on my own and check in the trombone.
We only had an hour and a half between flights, and with twenty minutes to go before take off, I was getting slightly worried that I was still the only member of Tankus the Henge at the gate, and no amount of friendly Americans was putting my mind at ease. In fact I think they were probably stressing me out just a bit. Charlotte airport to Nashville is still too far to walk. I thought it was best if I did get on the plane anyway, but at the last minute, hats and instruments came lolloping up the corridor, and after querying the flight hostess (a man, I think) about some liquid showering out of the fuel tank, a big man with a beard and brylcream came to cable-tie the plane back together and push the dripstick back into the fuel tank (yes... honestly!) and the leak stopped. After that, off we went, and here we are, in Nashville, Tennessee.
It's a lovely day!

Cafe du Boulevard

2010-09-03T01:24:00.002Z

A couple of hours ago I broke my bed. It's annoying when it's your own bed but when it's someone elses it's just plain awkward. Still, they'll find out in the morning as I'm sleeping on the floor so the friendly spiders and snakes that roam around can get a good look at me. I think tonight I'll sleep with my hat on incase the abominations Olivia imaginatively named "matrix bugs" which are really just harmless house centipedes decide to nest in my unkempt mop of hair.
Today was mainly centered around soldering and food, having consumed far too much silver solder and carefully fixed the piano with jam and warm croissants. Our life in France has so far borne a few new songs which we're testing out at relatively small but wild shows to an enthusiastic largely ex-pat audience who either heard about our antics from previous years or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time but failed to find the exit quick enough, and a growing number of french ladies and gentlemen whom we really don't have the skills to speak to. So after tonights show (Cafe du Boulevard, Melle) instead we make do with following wild-eyed Nico on his scooter, with an outstretched leg for left/right indications, and Alice and Jennifer in their car, to a house full of instruments which looks like it's still being converted from a wonderful old barn. The night proceeds to climb unsteadily up a higher and higher hill into some clouds, where we momentarily lose our way, but no matter, Titus and Tatine arrive and he with his eyes shut head back soul gripping drumming, and her with her dancing, cowbell playing and pointing at me to play that accordion and that bass (I can't play the bass!) and we quickly gain momentum down the other side of the hill, crashing through anything in the way, language barriers, broken pianos and a cupboard full of cheese into the valley of "chaos at 4:19am" (I'm sure you've been there recently...) There was something written on their car but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. I think it was something to do with the revolution...

Tankus the Henge, France and Nashville!

2010-08-29T07:43:00.004Z

Once again, the Tankus the Henge van is reduced to looking as if Jake stole the keys off George while he was asleep and drove it sideways through a landfill with the side door open. A festival weary guitar with five strings, an inflatable bed footpump, numerous hats, french bread and a copy of "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" stray across just one seat.

We're driving through France. We've been driving for about three hours since disembarking from the ship and resolving to eat our way across the land of the garlic bicycle, we've stocked up on fresh chickens, french sticks (naturally), houmus and cookies. There's about five hundred miles to go and every time we pass a truck with spray flying out of the wheels, my life flashes before me as sometimes it feels like we're flying a plane far too close to the sea, even though we're in a big red transit van.

The inside of our van is quite colourful. We had a drawing competition a few weeks ago on our way to Kendal Calling festival, and I think Kerry won, being a girl, obviously she's better at drawing while the men seem to handle driving a van a lot more naturally. Here's a picture of the entries adorning the wall.

We are holing up in France to get away from various people, ie, our local councils, the electricity board, the neighbour whose garden I had to clamber through the other day when I locked myself out of my house, but mainly we're getting away from distractions to write some new music and test it out at four shows over here. I'm sure many of you reading this will have seen us perform sometime this summer, and the music we have been playing ranges one to five years old, and some of our songs we've performed at every show for about five years. Needless to say, we've been extremely busy and there's a backlog of ideas that need to be tried and tested. Hopefully when we come back to London in October we'll open another door into a different part of the twisted world we inhabit.

"October?" I hear you cry...
Yes, that's because after we've returned from France, we'll be heading to Bestival to perform there on the Saturday, and then to Weston Super Mare to close the festival on the beach lawns.

"but that only takes up one weekend!"

Oh, of course it does. The reason for the October return, then, is because we're all going to Nashville, Tennesee to record a brand spanking new album. Nashville is in the United States of America. Long live the king!
We're not abandoning you in the slightest; never fear, we will be stopping for a tea-break at 4pm on the dot each afternoon. We'll be writing and filming bits for this blog most days and will be keeping in touch with all of you, as always!

As for now, I will stop writing because otherwise I'll see my breakfast and lunch get to know Jake's hairdryer which is in front of me.
More tomorrow.
Jaz

The Mysterious Metamorphosis of Dan Mason.

2010-08-27T00:15:00.004Z

Vlore, Albania, 13/08/10 - This chilling factual account was told by Michael Charles, Tour Manager

Something strange happened in Vlore.

If my memory serves me correctly this was the first time Dan Mason had seemed different. It is only now when I look back at that evening, on the second date of the Tankus the Henge Tour of Albania, August 2010, that I realise it occurred at dusk. Like a vampire, thirsty for the night and it's cloak of darkness, the ordinarily mild mannered Dan Mason turned into the now legendary and less than considerate 'Danny Mason' ....Rockstar!

I met him at the hotel lift, after he'd had a shower, and he looked straight through me. I turned to Jaz and said, 'What's up with him?' ...and Jaz told me the news. 'This is Danny Mason', he said. And that's when I realised things had changed. The air of indifference within that lift as we descended the three short floors to the lobby will haunt me for the rest of this week. 'What a load of bollocks', I said, as the doors opened and I walked over to one of the leather settees to wait for the rest of the band to arrive, picking up a lost earplug en route. Danny just frowned and looked me over like a stinky tramp that just asked him for the last drag of his cigarette. And so the evening continued.

Initially I thought it was just an act and it would pass after a short time when both Dan and everyone around him got tired of the joke. So I laughed to myself as I watched his overexaggerated attempt at 'elegantly wasted', sauntering around reception, giving the odd wave, and finally swanning out of the hotel to the awaiting bus. ...But it didn't pass ....And it wasn't till I saw him at breakfast the next morning that he'd obviously reverted to the lazy, good for nothing Dan Mason of old, in search of beer and a comfortable seat.

At that gig in Vlore he played fine, had his photo taken with 'the fans', said 'I've got time'. when he was greeted by this dignitary or that record company executive ...but I never saw him smile once. This was Danny Mason and they were lucky! A few words here, a handshake there, ...what could anyone expect but a cursory acknowledgement that they were in the presence of Royalty? When I passed him a beer he drank it in one. When I offered him a cigarette he took the pack ....and the piss! At the end of the show having strutted his stuff, signed autographs and had his picture taken hanging off innumerable, excited young women, he boarded the bus with such a look of disdain that everyone fell silent. There was an ominous air aboard that vehicle. Who knows where this is going to end?

Beware the twilight.

From dusk till dawn .......it's Danny Mason!

This morning I woke up with the sun streaming on to my face

2010-08-17T22:41:00.011Z

Jaz: When we arrived in Durres, as usual something had happened, I think this time Dan had taken his usual relaxed amount of time in the toilet while everyone else on the bus digested their lunch like normal people. Lunch is a very important meal in Albania, and we took it very seriously while we were there. Anyway, we were running slightly late, and to make matters more interesting, the road running along the promenade next to the sea was jammed, bumper to bumper with the normal selection of mostly battered Mercedes, motorbikes with three riders and a couple of times I saw contraptions with engines that, if in England, probably wouldn't have made it out of the inventing shed. Still, fair play to them, if building what appears to be a wheelbarrow with half a motorbike welded to the back, and no visible brakes, then maybe they can get to places no cars can go and get the job done.
So Edmund, our driver is cursing at the traffic and calling whoever is closest to his bus the equivalent of a pikey, while attempting to cross a roundabout where everyone wants to go first, and if that isn't good enough for the bikers, they'll go around it the wrong way. Add this to the seemingly unwritten rule in Albania that if a pedestrian walks out into the road, they have right of way and the cars stop for you, and bingo, utter chaos ensues.
Gradually we wove our way through the car tetris and ended up at the hotel. A rather lovely place called "Hotel Ani", It was refreshingly cool in the balmy air of Durres beach. On discovering our rooms for the night, Chris, Dan and myself foolishly shotgunned the first one we saw, which looked spacious, having two beds and a double pull out in a large room. Our spirits sank when we realised we'd been too hasty as George and Jake found the room next door, with two single beds, and through a door, a double bed with ensuite and balcony looking out over the beach.
We laughed when we found out that they would be having to share this luxury with DJ Piko, who has been spinning music in between ours and the MHBs sets. Piko is a nutter (what are you, what are you?!) and great fun; In the end, he didn't even come back to the hotel, and I'm not sure if we saw him since.

Here's a picture of Piko at work:

During our soundcheck, I looked out over the area the stage was built in. I could see several dilapidated but working fairground rides, with customers, several Korçë beer stalls had popped up, and the sun was setting over an empty, abandoned apartment block. I felt as if I didn't know what time we were in, whenever it was, it wasn't 2010. Not an entirely unpleasant feeling, but one that happens to me on a regular basis here. The area we had for audience was pretty big, and I had completely underestimated the enthusiasm of the wonderful Durres locals, because when we returned to the stage from cleaning up and getting changed in the hotel, the few strolling couples and groups of interested kids had turned into several hundred mainly young people, dancing to whatever record Piko was playing. I think it was the one that goes "I've got a feeling... daa daaaa, that tonight's gonna be a good night, etc", you know, that one.

Martin, Jay and Pete, went on first and it was the first time I had had the opportunity to see their entire set due to things like snakes and and in one instance, a man with no legs who could walk on his hands. Here's a photo of the MHB in action.

Now I will pass over to Daniel because he wrote something about this and I'm confused enough already what with remembering everything in the right order. To be honest I'm not entirely sure that everything I've related to you happened in the order it did. Nevermind, it'll probably end up on facebook, then wikipedia, then in the press, which makes it fact. Winston Smith eat your heart out.

Daniel: We arrive in Durres mid afternoon for our third and final seaside performance. I took full advantage of our first opportunity to witness a full set of the Martin Harley Band. An interesting response by the Albanians. Albania have had the freedom to absorb western culture for as little as 18 years, since the fall of communist oppression in 1992. Then came the influx of world popular culture, most notably British and American rock bands. This era seemed to provide some form of renaissance in Albanian pop culture, hence the fact most bars, restaurants, clubs and radio stations still play Guns N' Rosesesque rock, 80's power ballads, contemporary Albanian pop music or today's music. Nothing predates 1985ish. Not once have I heard a Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Abba record being played. Nothing from the 50's, 60's or 70's it seems. Not to say nobody in Albania has ever heard of these bands, just that for commercial purposes perhaps there's been little or no opportunity to hear this music through mainstream and commercial mediums. It was in fact illegal during the communist era for anyone to show any form of artistic expression or appreciation for any outside influence, and thus owning or playing a Phil Collin's record for instance would be considered a criminal offence, imprisonable for anything up to 30 years. Perhaps certain elements of the oppressive mechanism were trying to make the world a better place? MHB most certainly rock, the musicianship and stage presence is undoubtedly accomplished, on the brink of "kickin awf!" from one second to the next. A universally acknowledged tilt of the hat is an indication that the love for both music and culture is the sole purpose for this event taking place. They are well received by the people of Durres. They seem somewhat fascinated by the music as opposed expressive bodily shapes and gestures often affiliated with rock n' roll. They simply haven't ever heard of the blues or witnessed the impact it has on western culture. I must say I lost myself somewhere between the rampant rendition of "Nobody's fault but mine" and the soul-feast of "Voodoo Chile". Much of the crowd observed in utter amazement at my disconbobulated cavorting about the place, but never any sign of dislike or hostility towards me or the music.

Then came our gig. Probably the best gig of the tour in terms of production value and sound. Without doubt the best gig of our collective careers so far. Somewhere between 1000-1500 people of all ages and gender. The reception was immense, transforming the intense expectation and adulation projected by the crowd into a sespit of good time vibrations and cultural coming together. Perhaps the people of Durres didn't fully comprehend how much the weight of their response meant to us, but I feel we did well in expressing our sentiment particularly. Jaz's somewhat patchy Albanian went down well.

Jaz: So they rocked it. Mike, Jake and myself got a preview of what the audience was like when we joined Martin, Jay and Pete onstage to play horns on "love in the afternoon" which is a jaunty number you can find on his album "Drumrolls for Somersaults", buy it now. We attempted to upstage the lovely MHB two nights in a row doing this, and they seemed to enjoy it as much as an alcohol-fuelled student who has just discovered eating his own sick cures hangovers. Expect more collaborations onstage in London and probably Bestival 2010.

When myself and the rest of the Tankus the Henge gang took to the stage for our own set, Martin had warmed up the audience so much that I could have cooked a can of beans just by holding it out towards them.
I'm not going to whine on about our set, you know what we do. If you don't and you're reading this, then you should really find out. All i'll say is that Durres, Albania, was my favourite performance in the book.

Durres

2010-08-17T08:57:00.003Z

Here's three photographs from our show in Durres. More coming later, as we're on our way to the airport and most people are drunk and therefore, every possible aspect of our onward journey lies in chaos and carnage.
Love you all!

burrat i çmendur anglisht!

2010-08-16T08:55:00.001Z

I have been attempting to learn Albanian. It's one of the hardest languages, apparently, there are so many tiny variations of pronunciation which change the meaning of the word. I can say useful things like "thankyou", "are you having fun?" and "we love Albania!" Hanging out with DJ Piko and Benny from Club FM, the radio station we are working with on this tour, often results in me learning new things to say like "are you ready to go crazy?!" and "that's life, buddy", which is allegedly slang and no-one i've said it too has understood it. Also there is a strange saying which translates roughly as "what are you, what are you?" - for instance, as Jake is utterly off his rocker most of the time, I'd probably say it to him.
I can see him now, he's asleep in bed with half the sheets wrapped over his head. Much amusement was had when we realised Jake has the same fringe as Clare, who makes everything happen, together with Daniella and Aida.

So we played in Sarande by the sea, there was a promenade which had a few locals and tourists strolling along it. Sarande is very much the Albanian seaside resort, and holidayers from Corfu (just across the water) and all over Albania come here to relax. By the time we came back from the hotel to the stage, realising we'd missed our tourmates the Martin Harley Band by mistake, there were hundreds of people all over the place. Families with young children all come out at night to socialise, and it appears that snake owners come out, too, as a gentleman with a massive green snake wrapped around his neck was parading around.

It's strange how some tunes go down really well and some don't. Orange is the new black, for example, prompts a similar reaction as me presenting a thirty year old sock to my girlfriend on valentines day after we mutually agreed we wouldn't do presents and then for some reason I panicked and thought that giving her the archaic gift of threadbare wool, saying it had been worn by Jack 'Pomegranate" Geoffreys, the infamous fireman of the 1970's who saved his ladyfriend from a burning building, was actually a hugely romantic gesture. Fail.

Still, we've played Orange every night. I like the jumpy bit at the end. Tunes that DO go down well include Mirror on the wall, with it's manic dance medley at the end, Life is a grimm tale (if I teach the lyrics as it only makes sense if you can speak english), the Asylum dance and Recurring dream. I put forward the idea to the British Embassy that we should release Recurring Dream as a single here.

More blog later!

Day 3 - Serande

2010-08-14T14:29:00.004Z

A 3 hour road trip to Vlore ensues. The birthplace of Albanian independence in 1912. Our driver and comrade Edmund at the wheel as we retrace our descent through the Albanian mountain range overlooking the coastline. Words cannot describe the beauty of this vast scenery, so figure it out yourself.

Last night's gig was yet another raucous rowdy affair. A more than healthy serving of sweat and drool to help relinquish the feast of Albanian cuisine and alcohol intake/misuse. Weight gain is an increasing inevitability. A nice late night dip in the hotel pool helped the guys fight some flab. It also presented a rare chance for Jake to perfect his swimming skills. We can report his ability to doggy paddle is coming to fruition.

"It seems pointless going to bed now if I've spent all this time getting pissed" George exclaimed shortly after our meal on the way to the hotel. Chris, George and I decide to stay up a while longer to check out some Sarande nightlife. Naturally, the nearest and most seedy nightclub to the hotel was our port of call. 500 Leke each to gain entry, and with that a drink at the bar. Seemed fairly reasonable we thought. So the kid who looked about 12 on the door took our money and we went in. So in we go, unperturbed by the booming Albanian techno and the dingy cave like lighting. Ready to boogie. Lets get the drinks in then. Oh what"s this? A young bulimic Albanian girl wants to try my hat on her peroxide head. No probs. Yes those are my festival wristbands. Anything else? No, she just gawps for a few seconds and responds to my perhaps overly refined English like a dog who's just been shown a card trick. "Is she a ho or a hooker?" I ask George. Who knows. Anyway she's cavorting on the podium with another girl now as everybody looks on. Soon we lose interest as there's virtually no interaction taking, just an assortment of prick tease for entertainment. We drink up and head back.

The rest of the Albanian vibe is great. Lots of happy faces, lots of kind words. Great to be hanging with The Martin Harley Band, despite their collective sexual dysfunction becoming ever more concerning. Nearly made it to Vlore now, slight delay due to a Mafia shooting taking place last night on the mountain side between the Greeks and Albanians. Sounds like handbags to me. Stopping for some food to let the procession pass by.

Bus thoughts

2010-08-14T14:20:00.000Z

I woke up from a slumber by the bus lurching violently to the side, I looked out of the window and saw a car careening the wrong way down the motorway, traffic rippling out of the way like it was being repelled from a magnet. I had the distinct uneasy feeling that it was going to end up totalling a car travelling the right way. Before I could regain my thoughts, I saw another car attempting to do a three point turn in the fast lane of the road. I told George to concentrate and just keep driving past all these lunatics. There was snow falling lightly, and we were still about three hours away from our destination. I don't remember where we were coming from, can't recall that at all.
The snow was worrying me, because twilight had taken a hold on the day and the snow was reflecting all the headlights creating a strange glow, making it very difficult to tell our proximity from other objects. As we started to go up a huge hill, the bus started to struggle and the I could feel the wheels spinning under us. The satnav still had the direction pointing the way, and we were valiantly trying to follow it, but before we turned over or got stuck in the snow, I asked George to turn off, into a side road. This road had less snow because of the trees, and was single track. I was sure I'd seen some sort of farm or lights when I had the idea that we probably shouldn't try and finish the journey in these sort of conditions, as there'd be no band otherwise. We confused the satnav, and it's pathetic voice rang out with complaints about turning around, when we came across a big farmhouse with a spacious courtyard. I leaned into the snow and wind as I battled my way over to the door, and the occupants must have seen us coming as the door opened and I was let in to a warm kitchen. After explaining our plight, we were offered the living room floor to sleep on, and thanking the host, I went outside to tell everyone the news. The snow had stopped, and I realised I was wearing a long wig. Two of our friends from another band were standing with my lot, and they took a while to recognise me, as the wig was hiding my identity. I pulled the wig off, and then I woke up, as I'm still really on a bus in Albania, in the heat of the day, and we've just stopped at a petrol station for everyone to get off and go for a piss.
Better go then. Never know what's going to happen on the road.

Albanian bars and cable cars

2010-08-12T11:41:00.002Z

Cows in road. Traffic. Eight hours to go.

Two bands in a bus. One of them is Tankus the Henge; trumpeter Jake Stoddart came out with this gem just now:

"I might fart with such ferocity that I blow my own insides out my arsehole"

Woke up yesterday and completely failed to understand the breakfast table. Mainly the idea of 'choose what sort of breakfast you want and eat it'. Bearing in mind there was olives, cheese, yoghurt, nesquik, melon, toast, egg, croissant, mousse and countless more ingredients. Instead of choosing a particular style of nourishment, there could be seen examples such as olives, egg, honey, toast and avocado, or nesquik and cheese and ham. Also, the waiters seem to play a version of roulette with tea. ie, if one asks for tea, one might recieve anything in a range from strawberry and vanilla to rosehip and camomile. After we discovered for some reason Cappuccino gets added to the bill as an extra, George swore blind that no-one in our party had had indulged in one, when in fact, it was him.

So we went up a mountain. In a glass box on a string. I didn't think I was afraid of heights until the last section of this cable car, (built by austrians) went over a ridge, then a lake, then after a bit of rock, proceeded to change direction, and almost go vertically up the cliff face. No one had clean pants I tell thee.

On our way up we saw a few concrete bunkers scattered around, on asking Clare what these were, we found out that in the 1970s, the dictator was so paranoid about everyone attacking Albania, that he built 700,000 of them all over the country for gunmen to sit in. No-one attacked it. I don't think many people even knew it was there.

After George, Mason and myself did a rather deep interview with a TV station in which I told Simon Cowell I didn't like him, and we rued the amount of crap there is in the British music scene, we played a show in the garden of the Rogner Hotel. This was the launch party of the tour we're doing with the Martin Harley band opening for us. As we were playing a few feet from a swimming pool I accidentally jumped into it at the end of Recurring Dream... Hang on, I have to interrupt my train of thought. The radio in the bus just played an advert for our gigs this week, I'll try and get a copy of it. It has a bit of Orange is the new black and lots of Albanian over the top. It's pretty funny. Apparently it's broadcast four times an hour.

So we're travelling to Sarande today, if you know where that is. it involves us going over a very high mountain pass. The second highest in the country. Luckily Edmund our driver is excellent, otherwise what with yesterdays cable car exploits we'll get through our underwear a lot quicker than expected.

The state of the guys in the band is questionable this morning. After local Raki, many Korca beers and a night of Jagermeister, some of them spend minutes on end staring into the middle distance while I casually document it all.

Albania feels like home. Once we got here.

2010-08-11T01:16:00.003Z

This is the smallest plane I have ever been on. It's basically a flying bus with about twenty four albanians on and us six Englishmen. Wait, there's an announcement. OK they're still trying to serve drinks while we descend in our tin can from over the Alps into Tirana. As we took off, all the lights dimmed because the engines obviously required more power to get us into the sky. I think there's only three crewmembers and one of them doesn't look like they have the willpower or ability to swim. Chris and Dan are gaily sucking down beers and we're all devouring bread with A) some sort of green playdoh on it and some seeds or B) chicken that was caught out the back of the engine with a net.

We didn't see much of Vienna, mainly the inside of a terminal where normal civilians aren't permitted to go. Just behind our cafe, which closed near the start of our three hour transfer, was a big glass pen especially enclosed just for those who enjoy breathing tobacco and tar. Seriously, if you wanted a smoke all you have to do is open the door and go in. Mind you, the airport we took off from two days ago in Germany made Stansted look like Heathrow. There was only one plane there.

Really feel like I'm flying at the moment. Hang on, we're nosediving. Oh no, it's just starting to land. Just felt the undercarriage come down, or maybe it was the baggage hold doors opening and sending our equipment sailing through the night sky into the mountains.

A bit later:

We land at Tirana airport and are greeted by the lovely Clare, soon speeding us towards the city down a motorway which i recall seeing a cow being led along the hard shoulder last time we were here. Clare also tells a story in which she was in a restaurant enjoying a meal when a cow crashes through the dining area with an irate gentleman brandishing a shovel in hot pursuit.

More tomorrow. Bed now. I think we are doing something on TV, like an interview, as well as the first show. There's also a picture of a very interesting lamppost I think you should see.

Jaz

Where are my passport. I had it this morning.

2010-08-09T19:27:00.005Z

Chris just handed me a long-lost John Lee Hooker album...there are fresh bills being burned on the fire and I'm surrounded by mess. This is the aftermath of returning from Wacken festival with the Circus of Horrors this morning and having to go to Albania with Tankus the Henge tomorrow morning.

After becoming accustomed to spending what seems like every weekend for two months in a tent, which is basically a human basting-bag, and emerging dripping with sweat AGAIN after a snatched four hour sleep, with booming bass from three different stages almost on top of your head, the prospect of actually staying in a hotel for our shows in Albania is a welcoming one.

I would write about every festival we've been to but they've all been smashed together by the rolling pin of rock. One that stands out in my memory is the accordion attacking me at the end of Asylum, at Larmer Tree. I ended up falling over backwards with a bleeding mouth, it all adds to the show. The stage invasion by redheaded girls at Latitude was pretty good, and the stage invasion by anyone and everyone at Secret Garden was fantastic. Smuggling about thirty bottles of beer into SGP in an empty guitar case, watching an airship get blown skyhigh and meeting some amazing, fascinating people will not be forgotten in a long time.
We have two more festivals to go, Beautiful Days in Devon (21st of August) and Bestival (11th September).

Before then, though, we're off to Albania again.

Wednesday 11th August - TIRANA (Rogner Hotel) 8pm

Thursday 12 August - SARANDA (8pm)

Friday 13 August - VLORES (8pm)

Saturday 14 August - DURRESI (8pm)

Sunday 15 August - KORCA (8pm)

If the last excursion to Albania is anything to go by, bearing in mind most people we met go ballistic at the sound of a polka, and don't pay to get their roads fixed, ever, it's going to be fun. Albania, we love you. And your roads.

Jaz

London show and myriad festivals

2010-07-07T09:38:00.001Z

'ello. We'll be headlining the 12 Bar Club in Denmark Street, Soho. 29th of July, 2010. It's a Thursday, it's £6. Supported by Taxi Joe and The Lovebirds, with Gypsy Balkan beats pumping inbetween, you really shouldn't miss this as it's our only London show for the summer, because we're away at festivals so much. If you can't get to a festival, get yourself a hat, (a good one preferably), pull on your hobnailed boots and get down to 12 BAR CLUB to dance to our twisted polka. Anyone who's been to 12 bar knows that putting us in there is insane. Looking forward to seeing you there, regards, as always, Jaz Delorean **Festivals we have coming up** (also on events page) Nozstock Festival (10th July) Kingston Youth Arts Festival (11th July) Larmer Tree Festival (16th July) Latitude Festival (17th + 18th July) Secret Garden Party (23rd + 24th July) Kendal Calling Festival (31st July) Beautiful Days Festival (20th - 22nd August) Bestival (10th - 12th September)

Tankus the Henge Rock the Block in Tirana!

2010-03-17T12:24:00.002Z

After touching down at Gatwick, the colourful chaos of Albania still a vivid recent memory, the UK really wasn't where I wanted to be.

Although we were only there for three days, we managed to fit in two shows and two television appearances, and still have time to go out to a few Balkan techno clubs, go up a mountain, have dinner several times and meet a lot of extremely welcoming people.

As soon as we arrived in Tirana, we made our way to the Rei Club to play some songs, and I got the rare opportunity to pummel the living daylights out of a grand piano on stage. I didn't caress the keys with my boots this time, this probably would have been seen as disrespectful as it was someone elses.

We explored the Block and ended up in a nightclub with insane lighting that just consisted of white chandeliers that flashed on and off relentlessly to the heart-pounding balkan bassline, an epileptic wouldn't have had a chance.

In the morning, the sun was out, and I got my first impression at how beautiful Albania actually was, it was about 18 degrees C, and the skyline is taken up with spellbinding snowcapped mountains that loom over one side of the city. We eventually ventured a way up one of these and had drinks before we left, and got a good view of Tirana, the capital.

We jumped in the bus after half of the band managed to be alive for breakfast and made our way to the stage where we were to play later on. It was in the centre of The Block, an area which, during communism, the leaders lived in apparent luxury while everyone else lived under communist rule.

A soundcheck never arrived, so we went and were honoured to have lunch with the British Ambassador, before heading to the Top Channel TV studios to play "Smiling Makes The Day Go Quicker" and "Who's Gonna Catch Ya?" on their Sunday evening TV show, which was an utterly chaotic and positive experience. We'll put this up on our website asap!

The other TV show we went on was RTV News, with the lovely Hueyda, we performed "life is a grimm tale" and engaged in duel language conversation in a live interview.

The main show that we played in The Block on Sunday evening was unlike any other, Martin Kilger from Germany had warmed the crowd up earlier in the evening, and it was growing constantly as a band from Tirana took to the stage.

A few technical issues gave me the chance to talk to and joke around with a lot of people at the front of the stage, apart from the police who didn't show how much they wanted to join in.

As we crashed into "orange is the new black", live in the Block, i knew that coming here had been a fantastic idea, and as hundreds of people waltzed and danced wild polkas, I knew that we couldn't stay away for long. Albania is a very Tankus the Henge sort of place.

This is Ladbroke Grove, next stop Tirana, Albania.

2010-03-13T01:50:00.002Z

Hi there once again.
I'm currently sat in the middle of utter chaos.
In my house, cables, musical instruments, bags and cereal cover the floor. Mason is asleep on the couch, and a stray bowler hat is mating with the coal in the fireplace.
Generally after we've played a show, a lot of our stage equipment ends up here. We've been pretty busy since we played at the Cobden Club last week, which was a storm, thanks for making your way out to Ladbroke Grove for that one, it's a bit of a trek. The Victoriana decor and great music made it worth it though.

So everything is still in my house. The palm tree is nestling up against guitar amps and George's lizards are still around somewhere...
We're off to Albania today. We are flying the band (for the first time) out to a country none of us have been to. While we're there we'll try and cause as much chaos as possible, get on the radio and television, experience and sample the local food, drink and people and play some live shows.
Oh and of course film most of it for your viewing pleasure!

I hope you've been enjoying our recent bout of video blogs, we have. We'll continue them when we have something utterly useless that we feel the need to transmit, or a new song, or both.

We'll be having a party in London on Monday night (Monday 15th - when we return) in the Spice of Life, Charing Cross Road. It's free entry, please come along! We'll play some songs.

Don't forget our biggest UK show to date, in Scala, Kings Cross. Click here for details

I think that's about it. Keep inviting friends to our facebook page and signing up to our mailing list!

Now I will go and pack my waistcoats and hats for the journey.
Tankus the Henge to Albania!
If Norman Wisdom can do it, so can we.

Keep in touch,
Jaz Delorean
(tankusthehenge@gmail.com)

Mirë se erdhët!

2010-02-01T11:49:00.002Z

Thankyou to everyone who came to the shows on the 20th and 30th of January.

They were a blinding success, and all who attended experienced altered vision, hearing and co-ordination, many people dancing the polka and the waltz with partners never met before the evening.

Regular customers know, that the travelling show by Tankus the Henge usually provides answers to a big question; Why are we here?

Tankus the Henge say, "you are here to dance'.

------

By a strange coincidence, the Albanian minister for Dance and Joviality was at the show, and consequently invited Chris, Mason, George, Joey, Jake and Myself out to Albania to demonstrate a positive result of immigration into the country. (Between us, we have heritage from Ireland, Greek Cyprus, South Africa, Wales, Romania and Yorkshire) Consequently, we know how to have a good time.

If you haven't joined our mailing list yet, please go to http://www.tankusthehenge.com/signup.php

o2 Academy 2, Islington

2010-01-19T16:31:00.000Z

Good afternoon. We need YOU! Tomorrow night our performance will be to yourselves, the Milliners Society of Great Britain and several members of the Recording Industry. We obviously need to impress upon these people that we're a worthwhile source of entertainment, so please come along and help us prove it by being a great audience, as usual! We're ONSTAGE at 8pm sharp. Entrance fee to all classes is a £5 note or coins, the same. Nearest tube, Angel. Thankyou very much, and, see you tomorrow night, behatted and bedazzling. TANKUS THE HENGE

New music from us.

2010-01-14T11:29:00.002Z

Hello Jivers.
We're going to give you an exclusive free download, because we're feeling good, an' all that.
Even though the oil is running out, the Earth's moving out of orbit, there's war all over, and our country is being run by idiots with idiots in the opposition; somehow, we're still feeling good.

SO, how about something good? We'll give everyone who is signed up to our mailing list a brand new track we've been working on, and just finished. Just go to www.tankusthehenge.com/signup.php and get your friends on it too.

See you at Islington Academy 2 on 20th January for a stonking gig.

Snow and gigs

2010-01-05T22:56:00.003Z

Obviously, global warming is taking it's toll and dragging us into a new ice-age.

Meanwhile, we're playing two gigs this month in London.

20th January 2010 - o2 Academy 2 Islington. (Angel tube)

30th January 2010 - Amersham Arms, New Cross.

Here are facebook event profiles for each show.

Islington

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=212818829555&ref=mf

New Cross

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=213275284701&ref=mf

It's going to be a mad year. We'd love for you to join us on our adventures.

2010: A Fantastic Odyssey

2009-12-23T22:29:00.002Z

Good evening to you all.

What with Christmas eve tomorrow and our seasonal snow show over five days ago, it's nearly time for our first ever New Years Eve party. (Go to the gigs section for a flyer)

It's being held in Streatham as, unbeknown to many, it's the first place every 54 years the sun will rise on New Years Day owing to a strange anomaly of our Old Sol .

Nevertheless, we'll be there playing a full blown set and you'll be there dancing your hobnails off until the Streatham sun rises over the South.

Besides that, we'd like to let you know that the other night we signed a development deal with CMC which means you'd better jump on our bandwagon now or lock all your doors and swallow the key.

If you are otherwise engaged when the giant escapement of time and space clicks into a new decade, come to our next performance at the o2 Academy Islington on the 20th of January.

Details all on the gigs page, as per usual.

Until then, we'll be kicking snow around, burning things in the fire and skimming rocks across the frozen Thames.

Before my fingerless gloves unravel, have a very peaceful and merry Christmas, and we'll see you for a Happy New Year.

Jaz Delorean

Stamp on the face of that Wintertime Blues

2009-12-12T01:07:00.002Z

Ladies, Gentlemen;
It's been an interesting year. From starting out the year with a snowy scene in Notting Hill, to the madness of Bestival and Jersey Live, and some lunacy in abundance at 12 Bar in London, we'll be ending the year with a Christmas Extravaganza in Greenwich on the 18th of December.
This gig will be reminiscent of Tankus the Henge in 2007, where we threw so many colourful objects into the audience during our gigs, that we nearly had to re-mortgage our Park Lane property. It will be utter, joyful chaos, and attendees are encouraged to bring along things that explode and hats too.

It's at Barcave on Trafalgar Road. Details are on the Gigs section of the website.

Other events that have become milestones have been;

The band joining the social phenomenon that is 'twitter', but still failing to see the point.
Mason getting a mobile phone.
Jaz wrecking his accordion, appealing to the public for funds to buy a new one, and getting nothing.

And finally, we can reveal that our trip at the beginning of August to North Korea was a blinding success.
We played in Pyongyang, Konguk, Ponghwa and Rakwon. Obviously security is so tight that we couldn't advertise these gigs on the internet, but following an advertising campaign on their tram system, which regularly electrocutes it's passengers, we're pleased to announce that Smiling Makes The Day Go Quicker, has gone to number one in their charts.

See you all soon. Keep well.

TANKUS THE HENGE

Hard at work in the studio

2009-11-23T13:10:00.003Z

Let's go downstairs and 'get some coffee'

mollusc.

2009-09-16T20:13:00.005Z

Evenin' all.
Thanks for coming out and behaving like maniacs at Jersey Live and Bestival. We had a fantastic time and seeing all you ladies and gentlemen partaking in mega-conga lines and screaming your filthy heads off just made it all better.
After all, brilliant as Elbow are, should one want to dance, one goes to watch Tankus the Henge instead. Thanks!

Next gigs:
-24th September, The infamous 12 BAR CLUB, Denmark Street, London
-31st October, El Día de los Muertos* show, The Mitre, Greenwich High Road, London

(*Day of the dead, or Halloween)

Rats with hats

2009-05-29T11:04:00.002Z

Rogues, rapscallions and rascals, thanks very much for coming out to the show last night. It's marvellous to see new faces all the time, especially as reconstructive surgery is so expensive.

Tell your friends about the next shows, at the Judy in June festival on the 2oth of June, and in the Troubadour, London on the 10th of July.

New website

2009-03-08T21:21:00.002Z

Good evening!

You've probably just found our new website, thanks to Drew and the gang for creating it.

If you're reading this on the blog, go to www.tankusthehenge.com and have a look there.

This Thursday is the show in WATER RATS THEATRE, buy tickets here!

It's a big one, we're on at half past nine.

Hats, braces, slacks and springs.

Jaz

Brighton to London: final shows of 2008

2008-11-29T00:03:00.002Z

Thanks to everyone who came to 12 Bar. We'll knock the wall through next time and get some more people in.

Our charity fundraising performance with Here Goes Everything on Tuesday 2nd December is in the Grey Horse, Richmond Road in Kingston. It will be grand. £5/£4 with a flyer.

Our last shows of 2008 are on the 18th of December in the Engine Room, Brighton (10pm - £4) - If you've been to the last couple of Tankus the Henge gigs here you know it's going to be mad. Dress to undress.

AND

19th December - Headline in the Water Rats Theatre, Kings Cross, London.

£6 with a flyer, will post here.

This is the Christmas party not to miss. Witness the return of the Tankus the Henge snowstorm, trees, lanterns and fancy dress all under the roof of the Water Rats Theatre.

See you there.

2008-11-13T13:14:00.000Z

2008-11-07T08:07:00.002Z

Thanks to Drew McLellan for the photographs.

France

2008-08-12T17:02:00.004Z

France is a lovely country. Cheese. Desperados. Strange and wonderful gigs.

Disneyland.

boating across the Channel, we use jackets as sails as the ferry seems to have mislaid it's own

Calypso, our beautiful new wheeled addition to the gang.

Christine, we remember you always.

Jaz is determined to find a use for the flying goggles

kiting

we can see right up George's nose

2008-07-07T21:36:00.000Z

Mason, Chris, George, Jaz, Joey, Jacob (Milton Keynes, The Stables)

2008-07-07T21:15:00.003Z

photos by Luke Roberts

2008-06-11T06:59:00.001Z

The Session.

2008-01-20T15:30:00.001Z

Yo.
We're performing two brand new songs on the radio tonight, BBC berks 104,4 or http://www.bbc.co.uk/berkshire
7pm - listen in, also available on listen again for up to seven days.

how exciting!

I'm dreaming of a white christmas...

2007-12-22T00:02:00.000Z

Thank you to everyone who came to all the shows in 2007. We've had a fantastic year which finished on the high point of Camden Underworld last Wednesday. Keep smiling, wearing orange and spreading the word.

On a sad note, the gig which was cancelled on the 15th of December in the Windsor Arts Centre made us aware of it's awful last minute closure due to lack of funding. Please visit http://www.savewindsorartscentre.org/ to help save this brilliant venue.

Have a wonderful christmas, and we'll see you in 2008.

iTunes release....

2007-11-01T07:33:00.000Z

To buy the single for 79p from iTunes; click here!

Purchase from iTunes!
Thankyou... please spread the word!

Smiling Makes The Day Go Quicker

2007-10-12T00:18:00.000Z

Comes out on iTunes and other internet storess, on the 29th of October. Buy it!
For a facebook group devoted to this cause, please click here: facebook.com

The Winter Tour is approaching us,
If you are planning to come to the Camden Underworld show on the 19th of December, you need to buy a ticket as we think they're going to sell very quickly.
Only £4 and you can buy it from the button on the myspace...
Spread the word, Tell your friends and put it in your calenders!
myspace.com/tankusthehenge

TANKUS THE HENGE WINTER TOUR
30th November - Neath, Town Hall
7th December - Liverpool, The Cavern Club
8th December - Manchester, The Dry Bar
14th December - Leicester, The Shed
15th December - Windsor, Arts Center
19th December - London, Camden Underworld

2007-10-07T10:21:00.000Z

Barfly

2007-09-25T20:38:00.000Z

2nd October 2007 - Barfly club - Camden
(nearest tube Chalk farm)

coincidentally, there will be chalk arrows and directions all the way from Chalk Farm station.

Thanks to everyone who came to the Water Rats gig. It was lovely to see you.
The silly string made quite a mess.

;)

A blast from the future...

2007-08-17T07:55:00.000Z

Here's the flyer for the gig in the Soho Revue bar on the 30th of August.
This is not going to be normal, so come along with your ticking doodles jumping.

News

2007-07-19T22:46:00.000Z

News - July
Current mood: Photophobia
Category: Photophobia Music

Upcoming gigs - Camden and Windsor

Camden - Purple Turtle - 26th July

£5 with a flyer (which will be on the myspace later tonight)
We're going to be up to our usual tricks but in a way you've never seen before, if you come to any gigs this month; this should be one of them!

Our gig on the 26th is actually the first gig in history to be reviewed in the future, before the gig has actually happened... so tell your friends and come with panache, because if you were meant to be there and don't come, you'll create some sort of paradox that wrecks the whole world.

Windsor - Arts Centre - 28th July

£6 with a student ID, go to the windsor arts centre site for info.
This is the first time we've played at the Arts Centre in Windsor, it's actually a converted fire station so it's going to be interesting... and loud... and crazy.
We'll be playing a different show to the one in Camden, so if you feel like you really need to go to both, you have an excuse.
There'll be a map on how to walk to it from Windsor station too soon.

Gig cancellations

Manchester - 27th July
Unfortunately due to an incident that happened in the transport variety of Tankus the Henge, we can no longer play in Manchester on the 27th. Very sorry to everyone who was going to go there, hopefully we'll make it up again soon. Life sucks, sometimes.

New recordings of the musical variety

yes

stay tuned... spread the word...
Tankus the Henge

2007-07-19T22:45:00.001Z

If you live in South East London you can listen to Tankus the Henge being interviewed shortly after their performance at Danson Festival...

Friday (tomorrow) at midday on 103.7fm TGR or you can click on this streaming radio link to hear it at midday.

Mahler

2007-06-23T23:01:00.000Z

Symphony no. 2 in C...
Sitting here listening to this fantastic work of genius... Whoever listens to this symphony really loud and doesn't almost wet themselves in the 5th movement is clearly not normal...

Danson Festival Arts Stage - 3pm

2007-06-23T22:44:00.001Z

Last gig of June 2007 will be in Danson Park, at the Danson Festival on the Arts/World stage...
We'll be playing brand new songs that came into existance this week in provincial France...
30th June...Danson Park, Bexleyheath, 3pm!

Au Revior!

Water Rats Theatre

2007-06-15T00:15:00.000Z

See you tonight.
see previous post for booking tickets.
wop!

Festivals...London... Tshirts

2007-06-08T18:45:00.001Z

Recently we played Strawberry Fair in Cambridge. Thanks to all the people that were there to watch us, and anyone who joined in the chant after we finished. No more to be said about that gig, the guys that saw it know what happened. It isn't going to edify anyone explaining what went on there..

Moving on, we ARE finally playing Greenbelt Festival, the arts festival in Cheltenham Racecourse. Other performers include Duke Special, Chas n Dave, Billy Bragg, Soweto Kinch and more... so get your tickets now!
That's on the 23rd to 26th of August... we're playing the legendary Stage 2, now known as 'Underground' on Sunday afternoon.

T shirts.. yes, we do have a load of t shirts... they're beautiful, they're only £7 if you buy them online.. you can click on our Merch page and buy them there... go on.. you know you want to be part of this strange co-operative fascination with the colour orange!

Finally, we are playing the Water Rats Theatre next Friday... if you get a ticket online it's a lot cheaper than the one on the door.... click here to buy them!

Love you all...
the future's bright...

Tankus the Henge
Chris, Jaz, Mason, George

Manchester, a Dry Bar on a wet day.

2007-05-12T11:55:00.000Z

Hi guys, Jaiden here!
Well, I thought I'd put in an update, and today is the perfect opportunity, as I can brag about how great Manchester was last night, and how gutted you should be if you missed it (except for Queen Mab, who has a valid excuse).

I set my alarm for 6.30. Yes... 6.30! Which equals STUPID OCLOCK! I prepare to jump on the 7.15 train to Sidcup from the lovely Staines, my residence. I jump on the train, all is well, the iPod is fully charged, I have my camera, my dreadfalls, my money and warm clothes. What I didnt have was the bracelets, and those are good for making petrol money, so that was a bit of a downer. Never the less, a smooth journey on a busy train, with a seat non the less!, and a bit of McFly (don't judge) to keep me company.
All right, I'll skip the train journey, thats boring!

Arrive at Sidcup for bout 9, get picked up by Jaz, race to his, pack the car with video camera (even though it doesn't work), confetti bombs, glowsticks, bicycle horns, jam sandwiches and tea bags. I meet the hamster, the hamster meets Ash's pocket, we eat Jam tarts for breakfast with our tea and then off we go.

Make a dash for George's, Lady T is on the phone trying her damndest to get there for half ten. We arrive, press the button for George's apartment, say the magic words ''Miranda, that ghost just isn't holy any more'' [nb. magic words change sporadically], and hey presto we are in.
Up in the lift, into the bedroom, and stunned to find Lady T there before us! I still don't quite know how.

Right, so wait for Chris, Mason wees with the door wide open, incase we want to watch, eat custard creams and head for the new van and the car. Poor Christine is unwell, so 'Fat Alice' will do the job.

Now, it's about half ten, and we get out of London in good time, stop at a service station and claim the journey so far had been good. Leave with tummys full, back onto the motorway, where slowly, bit by bit, traffic surrounds us and we are almost at a stand-still. So much for making good time, who ever said that is jinxed.

Well, I call the traffic line, I am so impatient, and find that the next three juntions ahead have 11 miles of stand still traffic. Oh dear it's already taken us five hours to get that far, takes about another one to get off the motorway and find an alternate route. So much for getting as much time in Manchester as possible before the show.

Go down some A road, buy a map, still 80 miles from where we need to be, and as Muse would say, 'time is running out' boom boom cha. Haha ok if you were there, you'd get the music joke after a pun, if not...hard lines.

Right, so we get back on the motorway, and head for city centre. Now it would have been easy, had we known where the venue was. Alas, as always we come without a plan, and get stuck on a one way system. The same system that was just as unhelpful on the July tour.
We find the venue, it's about half six or something, so thats like EIGHT hours from London to Manchester. And the whole time it was pouring it down, so journey was even more dull, thank god for iPods and a 'This is Spinal Tap' book.

Set up, Lady T and I get thrown out and made to pay! Grr! We had to run to the highstreet, get out cash, and then go to Primark before it closed for a coat to keep Tort warm. And what a bargain at £2 that was!

So, anyway back to the Dry Bar, band come on about an hour late because of the motorway fiasco. So Tankus are first on, and so far there are 6 people in the crowd. Time to pull out the confetti bombs and dash upstairs to the bar and scare the whole pub into coming to watch the show. And it atually worked, the room was full!

Out of my right ear, I hear someone murmer ' they are going to be shit' and so I chuckled, of course.

WHAM!!! The band throw themselves into the set (quite literally if your name is Jaz) and put on a smashing performance, both on and off the stage. Much sweat, a few minor mistakes later, and the set is already over! I look to my right, and hear 'they were actually reeeeaaalllly good'. Ha, never judge a book and all that jazz.
8 hours we were stuffed in a car, all for a half hour set, but it was worth it.. the crowd really liked it, and that's saying a lot when you're faced with a hard crowd of Mancunians.
The band who play after Tankus tell Jaz that they are scared to go on after a performance like that, and in true frontman style, he replies bluntly 'Good'.

Tired bodies drag equipment back up the spiral staircase to the van, while the girls go get the most awful food from the kebab shop.
It's about half 11, and we decided to drive back to London the same night.
Now, this took about two and a half hours in total, with Jaz's car hitting a speed of 100mph for much of the ride. (It's only little, but very nippy!).
Get to George's, drop him off, arrive back in Staines before 4am, all iPod's have run out of battery and we are running out of energy. Leave Jaz, get in bed, fall asleep and whilst dreaming, actually think I am still in Manchester and wake up very confused.

So kids, the moral of the story is, if you go to Manchester, don't be cheap and bypass the Toll road, it will land you in 11 miles of traffic. If you have a hard crowd to please, just go crazy, throw glowsticks at them, scream in their faces and climb all over the bar. Oh..and don't eat dodgy kebabs from a shop that has tuna sandwhichs on show, which are yellow.
Oh yeah, and lastly, get your arses to a Tankus the Henge show. You have no excuse.

May tour and other thing...

2007-04-01T13:55:00.000Z

New gigs added, more to come.
Smiling Makes The Day Go Quicker is now online, go to www.myspace.com/tankusthehenge to listen, and add it to your profile!

2007-03-06T13:34:00.000Z

A lot of people say they are when they're not...
But, a lot of people say they're not when they really are.

2007-03-06T00:53:00.000Z

cake

Vote for us.

2007-03-05T01:41:00.000Z

We're in competition with every other person who can pick up an instrument in the UK.
Isn't that nice?

Unfortunately it doesn't make a difference that we can actually play our instruments, so we need your help to get some recognition:
go to that link above and vote for us? Please?

thanks... you sure are mighty fine.

Tankus the Henge gang

The Rose Theatre 28/2

2007-03-03T00:18:00.000Z

Well this was the first live show since our last performance in November.
We played a lot of new material and I have come to terms with not having dreadlocks to thrash around in a gig or attempt to inhale while singing...
The gig was great fun, even though we had a few tech hiccups, and has started a big noisy ball rolling for our shows in 2007, thankyou to everyone who was there to witness the havoc that was wreaked with flying toilet paper and glowsticks... you were fantastic to perform to.
See you in Camden!