Black Bordello Diaries

Black Bordello Diaries: New Cross to New York and Back Again. 

Intro

In February Black Bordello had a problem; we were on a short tour of the north and Sienna had damaged her voice. We’d got as far as Manchester when it gave out completely; we had to cancel Blackpool and Sheffield and head home.  Driving down the motorway we were all despondent – in a couple of weeks we were booked to play The New Colossus Music Festival in New York, the question was: would we get there? The New Colossus Music Festival is a five-day showcase of musical talent taking place across a range of independent music venues on the Lower East Side.  We had been invited to play, and all the preparations were made visas, paperwork, fabulous accommodation in the Bowery courtesy of some very dear friends of mine – we were just waiting for Sienna to be signed off by the specialist. With 5 days to go the specialist sounded the all-clear; Sienna was match fit and it was on. 

Travel
Always something of a nervous flier, I’m in full on fret mode en route to Heathrow – have I packed everything, do I have my passport, my visa, will they let me in?  There is no earthly reason that the US government should have any beef with me whatever, but I like to have all my bases covered and worry about it just in case.  I’m flying with Daniel our imperturbable drummer, which is a good thing for me, the man is unflappable and his calm demeanour is beginning to run off on me, everything will be fine. And then, as we are going through security an authoritative voice asks; ‘Are you Jerome Alexandré?’ Here’s something I forgot to worry about, I’d worried about being refused entry to the US, being sent to Riker’s Island, interned in an ICE detention centre, but not being hauled out of the line before I’d even got on the plane. I admit to being Jerome Alexandré. ‘I saw you play with SGC at Rebellion Festival in 2022’ he enthuses.  Turns out he’s a fan. 

New York Establishing Shot

At JFK the queue at passport control is the longest I’ve ever seen at an airport this size, running my eye along the roster of passport officers I opt for a guy who resembles Coolio in his Gangsters Paradise era, he takes my fingerprints, asks where I’m staying and then I’m in.  

We take the subway on the Jamaican line – The carriages still look exactly like they did in the 1979 movie Warrior, silver and serpentine, snaking their way through the veins of NYC. Gazing out the window I spot brownstone apartments, a martial arts class on a rooftop, an old lady dressed in 1930’s chic with a Doberman on a lead, drag artists on 14th Street rapping Gil Scot Heron’s The Revolution Will Not be Televised. Everything is filmic in the city that never sleeps. We are being hosted by three sisters I’ve known since I was 16, Dan jumps off in Brooklyn to stay with Monica and I stay on the train, crossing the Williamsburg Bridge to Lorena’s at the Bowery.  It’s 4pm, it’s quite warm for NYC in March and the sun is shining as I walk the short distance to my home for the next week: the city never sleeps never disappoints. 

Piano’s Bar
Perhaps it’s the Italian in me, but I’m immediately drawn to Pizza Loves Sauce on East Houston Street where I get my daily fix of Chicken Margarita; it’s so good it becomes my staple food for the duration and I’m on first name terms with the staff by the time the week is up.  Ditto the guys in the Ice Cream shop; I have a very sophisticated palate.

After borrowing instruments from local musicians, we head to rehearse with Alasdair, a brilliant bassist and friend of Daniel’s who’s filling in on bass for us and who has the whole set down to perfection. 

Our first gig is at Piano’s Bar at 158 Ludlow Street, as we enter a band named Dahl from Montreal are performing, their Massive Attack meets Curtis Mayfield inspired sounds are extremely infectious and are going down well with the crowd. There’s a lot of press interest at the shows and Mel our keyboardist and I are posing for a few shots when Sienna emerges out of the throng and ushers us to soundcheck.  Festivals are always tight on time, getting a large turnover of bands on and off stage means adhering to a tight schedule, in this case an 8-minute line check and you’re on.  Musicians are by nature perfectionists, and I’m dismayed when the vintage Marshall amp I’m playing through decides to die gradually on me during the performance.  The crowd enjoy the gig but ultimately, I’m left feeling frustrated and head to the bar where, to my delight our song Acid Mary is playing, my fellow revellers are singing along. 

Niagra 

Niagara is situated on Avenue A – named checked by Johnny Thunders ‘Avenue A you might survive’ in the track In Cold Blood.  I’ve invited the legendary Ian Wilson vocalist of The Star Spangles, to the show and he bowls in looking fabulous in a suit, a long black cashmere coat and his customary jet-black hair. We shoot the breeze about misadventures gone by and wonder how we’re still here. Other old friends are here too including the DJ Patrick Cusack, it’s building up to be a good night.  

The tech set up at Niagra is great, no glitches, no dying amps, and the place is packed to the rafters.  We open with Acid Mary and already we’ve got ‘em, the audience is ours. These festival sets are short and punchy, 30 minutes to make an impression, to take the audience on a journey.  A significant portion of the audience know our songs and are singing along, and as we wind up the set with the Kurt Weil-esq Baby I see Sienna theatrically draped over the front monitor, her hair flying out around her.  In high spirits we all head out to grab a bite to eat at an Egyptian restaurant.

Baker Falls 

We’ve had a couple of days off since the last show and I’ve been hitting the thrift stores on Second Avenue my star buy being a $20 burgundy jacket that has Keef/Lucky Luciano vibes. Baker Falls is on Allen Street in the Bowery I thank my lucky stars that I’m blessed with friends in the area, I’m right on the spot for all the festival sites, I’m staying in a beautiful home not an impersonal and isolating hotel and I get to catch up with old friends. 

Baker falls is a fun venue to play – the stage is situated in the middle of the room and above are balconies where you can watch the band. The green room where we are ushered to tune up has 19th century style wallpaper that looks like it came out of the Edgar Allen Poe Interior Design Sample Book – “The Roderick Usher.”

The frenetic paced set up and line check is standard, and we give it all we got – the audience lap it up – we even meet a fan who has come all the way from Mexico to see us. Merch sells out and exhausted we make our way through the cold streets to Smash Burger.

After our flight home – I feel beyond exhausted. I admit that I’m a little sad and will miss New York a lot it’s a city that appeals to my insomniac ways. Back in the UK we have one show to do, The New Cross Inn with Peter Doherty.

The New Cross Inn is a venue on the corner of New Cross road in south London. I’ve watched south London become a musical hub again in the last ten years and people no longer seem to fear it like they used to. Arriving at the venue I spot guitar tech and Libertines tour manager, Andrew Newlove, I’ve known him and the rest of the boys Iain Slater and Tony Linkin for over 15 years, it’s a cosy atmosphere with Peter’s dog Gladys exploring the venue. Peter comes over for a hug and a catch up, I’m glad to see he’s looking much healthier and chipper than last year when we caught up.  I thank him and his manager Jai Stanley for having us on tonight. Our soundcheck seems to take forever, which is frustrating, especially as the queue of punters have been let in early; tonight is sold out and the venue will be packed to the rafters. 

Stage time is 8.00pm and we climb on and begin our set again with Acid Mary – our music being decidedly more Siouxsie and the Banshees than noughties indie has its desired effect. By the time we’re playing the dark, yet soulful Spectre Man I can see we have won them over.  After the set we are posing for photos with new fans, selling merch, and chatting with some of the punters I’ve met at shows over the years. Peter’s set is mind-blowing; the crowd sing along to the guitar melody of Time for Heroes, and Albion brings a tear to my eye the lyrics ‘We can go to Deptford’ bring back the memories of Peter and I spending time at Andy Clark’s house on Deptford’s Tanners Hill – playing on battered acoustics from twilight till dawn. 

Returning home I start to feel a bit sad it’s all over, then I recall we’ve a show at the Lexington on Thursday.  These voyages are really what strengthens a band – I’ve watched Black Bordello develop over the years and judging by what’s coming next, we’ve only just started. 

Black Bordello Diaries