The Great Gig in The Sky

I love the energy that electrifies the air before a major event. It sparks lips into idle conversation and ricochets off faces leaving smiles. Lightening could strike at any moment. People become restless and tap their feet to silent drummers. There is the excitement, but also an element of nervousness. What if the show doesn’t deliver? What if it’s not as good as you hope?

There was no support act for this night. After all, who could possibly grace the same stage in the same evening as this group? Instead, the monumental projection screen displayed an old fashioned radio / amplifier that was the source of the background music coaxing people to their seats. Every now and again, a cigarette holding hand would enter the view, change the reception dial, or raise the glass of whiskey to unseen lips. It was undoubtedly a stylish intro to the night - simple, but very cool.

The band took to the stage and every face turned their way. Screams echoed around the crowd, arms stretched to the stars, and clapping rang out everywhere. A slow and dramatic rhythm of guitar & drums set the pace, and thirty thousand people were simultaneously captivated and immediately lost in time. For some it was a first ‘live’ experience, where as others were clearly continuing a voyage that started decades ago. Appropriately, the first tune of this incredible show was “In the Flesh”.

It was a strange feeling to finally hear this music live. I’ve been an avid fan ever since I first heard them. There is something so fresh about the music. So unique and special, that it demands appreciation. There are bands which fit into particular genres, and there are those that define them. I’d listen to the live album ‘P.U.L.S.E.’ again and again, dreaming of what an experience it would be to hear them in concert, and hoping that it would one day be possible. But the rift between leading members, Roger Waters & David Gilmour was too great. There was the brief reconciliation for the ‘Live 8’ concert, but nothing long lasting.

Last November, we were walking through Auckland, and I spotted a poster for Roger Waters in Concert. In Auckland. In 2007. Among the line-up, would be the complete ‘Dark Side of The Moon.’ I was ecstatic. “Houston, prepare for launch”. Even though the date was months away, we immediately tried our luck online and sought the hallowed tickets. The cheapest were already sold out. Damn. The next option was also gone. Panic. The next were listed as available. Buy, buy! OK, it was a little more than we were expecting, but a price easily justifiable for such an occasion. Now, all we had to do was wait; the countdown had begun.

Now we were there. Watching Roger Waters on stage, and hearing those tunes fill the world around us. Every tune played was an absolute classic (there aren’t many that aren’t). “Mother” followed “In the Flesh”, then we “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun”, enjoyed “Shine on you Crazy Diamond” and moved to “Have a Cigar”. “Wish you were here” has always been a personal favourite so that was particularly welcomed, then there was “Southampton Dock”, The Fletcher Memorial Home, Parts 1 & 2 of Perfect Sense, a new offering called “Leaving Beirut”, and the end of the first act "Sheep.” In true ‘Floyd-style’ the first act finale was accompanied by a huge inflatable pig, covered in political graffiti, and walked around the crowd before being set free to chase the moon.

After a brief interlude that felt infinite in anticipation we reached the “Dark Side of the Moon”. “Speak to Me” introduced, “Breathe”, “On the Run” led us to “Time”, then “The Great Gig in the Sky”, “Money”, “Us & Them”, “Any colour you like”, and “Brain Damage” followed, before “Eclipse” concluded the timeless masterpiece.

The show was outstanding. Everyone was hooked, and felt lost when they left the stage. It couldn’t end yet. Just one more tune. Please. “Encore” was screamed from all directions, each sounding more desperate than the last, and just when it seemed the applause couldn’t get any louder, the band returned, and the volume was nudged up a few notches. Once again, the title of the tune here was appropriate; “The Happiest Days of Our Lives” brought us back to the Pink universe. “Another Brick in the Wall” commanded emphatic singing from even the driest throats, then “Vera” turned into “Bring the Boys Back Home”, and we finished “Comfortably Numb”. The whole night was incredible and euphoric. I couldn’t stop smiling as each tune began, and hoped they would never finish. It was a privilege to have been there and witness such a legend performing. Should you get the chance to ever see Roger Waters performing a true ‘Pink Floyd’ show like this, do yourself a favour and go. No matter what it costs, or how much effort it takes to get there, it will be worth it.

That feeling

It’s so easy to fall in love when the sun is shining. Everything is blessed. Beauty is all around. The sky becomes a faultless blend of blue silk that seems both infinitely distant and reassuringly close. The sea is a mirror for the sky’s emotions and is subdued by its tranquillity. The odd clouds that boldly dare to step to this stage draw new appreciation as their texture and shape is intensified by the spotlight upon them. Colours everywhere are renewed in vitality and everything looks sharper to the eye. The touch of the sun is positive and encouraging. Moments feel right.

We’d only just stepped from the car, and were already smitten with our surroundings. We felt at the edge of something magnificent and couldn’t wait to explore further. Who could believe we were only 2 hours from the centre of Auckland.

From our vantage point, high on the headland, we soaked in the view, surveyed the coastline, and look towards the day’s destiny. It seemed fitting that some effort was required to get somewhere so beautiful.

It took roughly forty minutes to walk there from the car park, crossing grassland and forest. The brief glimpses of our destination along the way spurred us on and helped avoid the temptation of nearer options. At the end of the path, we stepped from behind a curtain of branches, out of the dark, and onto the white sand of ‘Mares Leg Cove.’ Beauty flowed all around and our eyes drank thirstily.

Gorgeous blue water licked at soft powdery white cliffs, carving ornaments for our view, and bedding to lounge on. A small flat island lay twenty metres from shore, drawing people to its surface and then launching them back into the sea. On the left hand side of this small cove was a pointed archway of titanic proportions that led through the rock to ‘Cathedral Cove’. Beyond the entrance, the cave opened up to a huge curved ceiling that commanded awe, and inspired the name for this iconic location. Many people had made the pilgrimage here today, but none of them could detract from the peaceful feeling. This place was exotic, beautiful, and felt like a completely different country. It was as if we stepped through a portal onto another island far away in the south pacific. We reclined onto the sheets of sand and only left there when the sun’s attention had resulted in an obvious blush to our cheeks.

In the evening, we made our way to a nearby beach for a nice relaxing hot soak to finish off our stressful day. The appropriately named, ‘Hot Water Beach’ is unique and famous around the world thanks to an underground volcano, and the fissures from it’s superheated reservoir that lead to a small area of shoreline. These fissures supply approximately 15 litres a minute of mineral rich water to the surface, at temperatures of up to 64 degrees Celsius. Anyone armed with a spade and the desire, is then free to dig their own spa pool.

We’d arrived slightly early so our initial attempts at construction were thwarted by the still lowering tide. Thankfully, we were not alone in this venture, so we combined forces and constructed a defensive wall. We were then free to build dividing walls and shape the interior. There are blatant problems with the constructive durability of sand, and especially so when the majority of the structure is below water, so we dug deep, and then filled the gaps with our own bodies before the sand could.

When prompted with the notion of digging your own spa pool, the last thing you’d think of including is a crowd of people around you. Try as we might, we couldn’t ignore them, so only stayed long enough to let the exertion of digging the spa wear off. Perhaps if we’d brought along a few cold beers, our patience would have been more enduring.


The next day we tried our luck at fishing again. First in the shallows in-front of the hostel, then once the tide had come in, we continued our efforts from the wharf. After lunch, we drove to ‘Paku Hill’ and climbed to the summit. Like so many hills of New Zealand, this is the remnants of a volcanic cone that now provides an awesome viewpoint and a reminder of the country’s makings.

That evening we dined on the catch of the day. Totally at over 100 pounds, there was enough for everyone, and plenty left for the freezer. There truly is nothing like eating fresh fish after a morning spent fishing, even if we didn’t actually catch it. Our timing of being here coincided with a fishing competition, in which the hostel owner was a successful participant. He took the best of the catch, left the rest to the masses, and in one flippant gesture, made this one of our favourite hostels.

On the last day of this long weekend, we spent the morning at ‘Pauanui’ beach, before venturing off to find a secret water hole located in ‘Broken Hills’. A friend from work has previously drawn me an elaborate map of how to find it, and now all we needed was a little adventure spirit. It was the chance to discover a piece of New Zealand, not found in any guide book, and only known about by the locals. Quite a few locals as it turned out. Our secret location was privy to at least 10 others when we arrived, and once again, the romanticism was lost. Perhaps, we’ll be lucky and alone when we next visit.

A Big Day Out

There is always a balance to life. Positives & negatives to any option or choice. Something ‘bad’ about everything ‘good’. Granted some things you really have to think about what the ‘bad’ is, but it’s always there. It wasn’t long before we realized what the downside was to the ‘Big Day Out’ festival. The ‘good’ points were obvious months in advance: a killer set-list; close proximity to home (contrary to a 5 hour drive to the arse end of Britain for a Glastonbury festival); it is relatively cheap etc. The ‘bad’ became obvious when checking out the first band on the main stage. Unfortunately, this ‘bad’ point was quite a major one for a festival; there was something wrong with the sound levels. Whether it was a lack of speakers, poor acoustics to the stadium, the quality of the equipment, or just bad sound management, I don’t know, but something was definitely amiss. It seemed the only area receiving decent sound was the 50m radius around centre stage, which just so happened to be the VIP area. Everywhere else enjoyed sporadic bursts of clarity and volume depending on the stillness of the area, and the quietness of the surrounding crowd. I’m definitely not against people singing along to their favourite songs (depending on alcohol consumption, I’m right up there with the most passionate), but there is something drastically wrong at a concert, if you can’t hear the people on stage above the sound of the people around you singing.

‘Eskimo Joe’ got things started on the main stage, and apart from a couple cheesy-charty annoyances, they put us firmly in the festival mood. Other influences were classic ingredients to any outdoor music event: great bands, perfect sunshine, quality booze, shite food, and the unforgettable smell of freshly-puffed grass.

After that, we did some reconnaissance work, covered the territorial extremes, and saw what else was on offer. One highlight of this trip was a sample of the group ‘Spank Rock’ in the dance tent (appropriately labeled, ‘The Boiler Room’). They were a funky, punky, collage of beats that begged some initial head nodding, later leading to full body movement.

The next main band that made the grade for us was ‘My Chemical Romance.’ The only problem was that due to their success, and consequent standing on the main stage, they suffered the same piss-poor sound production as earlier bands. Despite the messages of of texts being displayed on a huge video screen, and comments shouted pleading for a volume increase, our combined pleas fell onto deaf ears - Ironic considering they were more easily heard than the bands themselves.

Despite being massacred by a slight westerly wind, a few thousands raised arms, and a little environmental noise, the final chords of ‘Welcome to The Black Parade’ made it in decimated form to our unfulfilled ears, and we left to seek greener pastures. This just happened to be a field outside the main stadium and the location for the 2nd set of stages. Our motivation for this move? Well aside from our quest for a higher state of volume, this would be the arena for one of my favourite acts from the Glastonbury festival in 2005.

A simple ‘Kia Ora’ (‘hello’ / ‘welcome’ in Maori), followed by the quick quip ‘I’ll be your dog!’, confused every kiwi in the crowd, and made pockets of British people piss themselves laughing. Apparently the tropical fruit drink, ‘Kia Ora’, which is remembered so vividly for the adverts involving crows pretending to be dogs, in order to receive some of the drink, was not known by our Kiwi cousins. With that prelude of confusion, ‘Kasabian’ made their musical introduction to the New Zealand market and started with the first, and title track from their latest album, ‘Empire.’ The next 50 minutes was non-stop action that ended with a field of arms raised high and swaying to their beat. It was our favourite performance of the festival, and later became, the most talked about around the city. ‘Kasabian’ had done the country proud.

After loading up on booze in one of the designated drinking areas (apparently Kiwi’s can’t be trusted to drink everywhere), we watched the musical murder of ‘The Killers’ on the main stage, and then resigned to the fact that no band was worth watching in such conditions. It was this reluctant acceptance though that led us to a highlight of the festival’s twilight. Whilst the majority were moshing it up to ‘Tool’, we were chilling out, and winding down to the sounds of the ‘John Butler Trio.’ Having never heard them before, and following disappointments elsewhere in the festival, it was a righteous end to a big day out.

High times

When I was a kid, I hated flying. Even up until a few years ago, I found that it immensely drained me, and only through consuming copious amounts of alcohol, could I remain completely relaxed (& consequently inebriated). Surprising really, considering my recent choice of world travel, but thankfully things have moved on quite a bit since my younger days. With advances in portable entertainment devices, personal music players, in-flight entertainment, comfortable airport lounges, and even decent meals, flying can be an integral part of the holiday that is worth looking forward to. True, not all airlines are equal, and therefore, I considered it a blessing of fate when we discovered the cheapest option for our return flights to the UK for Christmas, was with 'Singapore Airlines'.

They are the only airline I’ve been on that I have felt any degree of sadness when the final descent was announced, and they are also the only airline I’ve been on where I’ve said no to a further drink order – I assure you that these are unrelated. The fact is, they take care of you, relax you, and entertain you: there are personal back-of-the-headrest TV screens for every passenger; a choice of 80 movie channels including new releases, classics, seasonal-orientated, and world cinema; about 50 TV choices including documentaries, comedy, music & fashion; a selection of games; 30 new albums to listen to, and over 30 different radio stations. I remember the days of flying, when my brother and I spent the entire time scanning the handful of radio stations for a half decent tune, only to have to repeat the process once the tune ended – I realise this is still the case on many British Airways flights. The only problem is that to someone that loves films, there are now too many reasons not to sleep.

We’d forgone the expense of a hotel room at Singapore Airport, reasoning that it would be easy to find a comfy chair and sleep without problem, but soon discovered the available chairs must have been purposely designed in opposition of this ambition. We dosed & drifted around the airport for most of the night, until finally discovering heaven for the homeless. There were a couple of leather sofas on a lower level that no-one else had discovered yet. Sleep was now just an escalator away.

The next morning (3 hours later), we scraped ourselves off our makeshift beds and crossed the distance to Terminal 1 for a morning swim. Although, it wasn’t the warming experience we’d hoped for after a night in air-conditioned hibernation, it was refreshing and rejuvenating, and successfully washed away one flight before we engaged in the next. Thankfully, sleep came more easily in the second flight.

Our next flights this Christmas were to and from the Czech Republic. As yet, Singapore Airlines don’t cover this route, so we were forced to endure the torture of British Airways. It was the busiest I’ve ever seen Gatwick Airport, with every flight running around 30 minutes late, and our return flight provided the most terrifying landing I’ve ever experienced.


One thing that does perplex me about air travel is the strong warnings about using electronic devices during take-offs & landings, and the use of mobile phones at anytime during the flight. Surely the effects of listening to an ‘ipod’ during take-off cannot be so damaging to a plane’s controls, or if so, why have terrorists not chosen this method of manipulation? Why bother trying to smuggle on board bombs in shoes, explosive liquids, and other ingeniously complex means of destruction, and not just go hyper with some personal gaming devices and mobile phones? Are our airlines in so much danger from this equipment, and if so, why are mobile phones even allowed in carry-on luggage? The catalyst for these questions was the landing on the return flight from Czech; either the pilot was a blind-folded intoxicated monkey, or there was some serious electronic interference occurring with the controls. This left us slightly more apprehensive of our next flights back to New Zealand, but thankfully the unlimited booze of Singapore Airlines has a way of causing you to forgive and ...