The Wake

It’s 3.30 a.m. and I’m exiting through the back gate of Camden’s Roundhouse with several of my co-workers. We all bid each other farewell, and take off in our different directions towards home. Each one of is walking with a noticeable affliction given we’ve just left the all you can drink after party following the Supergrass party that night.

I’m walked with extra care and caution toward my bus stop across from Chalk Farm station to catch an N28 back to Kilburn. To protect me from the soft drizzle, four carry out boxes rest stacked atop my head. They’re filled with Chicken and Squid Paella, a Spanish dish of sticky, rice mixed with green and red peppers. It’s been wonderful, as I haven’t had to buy groceries for the last 2 and a half weeks thanks to the take home policy of the kitchen staff. Each night some new and delicious foreign dish tides me over until the next evening.

When the bus finally arrives, I board it awkwardly, struggling to balance the brim loaded boxes and swipe my card. In the midst of this struggle, the bus propels into motion and I’m carried backwards into the bus. It’s a packed house, and there’s no room in sight. A large white man wearing top to bottom sweats moves his legs slightly, and gestures for me to take a seat right in the front. He didn’t move them all the way however, and I’m forced to keep my legs partially blocking the center. “Sorry, I’ve just had an operation on my knees, and they’re not fully recovered, I have to keep them stretched.” He offered apologetically. “No problem at all” I insisted. I was just happy to sit down. We started talking, and it turned out he was an Algerian who had been living in London for over 14 years now. He was the son of an Algerian ambassador, and lived in multiple countries as a child. “We’d be in different places every two years. We lived in Switzerland, Belgium… even Zimbabwe!” We talked straight through the entire 20 minute ride it takes to get from work to my flat, but I was engrossed in the discussion, and missed my drop by over 5 stops. It’s extraordinary how quickly our conversation had progressed to philosophical life analysis, but it felt it no way out of the ordinary at the time. He was such a genuine guy.

I asked him if he thought he’d ever move back to Algeria. He said he was moving back in a year. “When you are young,” he bestowed, “it is good to travel, and try different things. See, you, you are young still. It is good to go around and see what you like, and learn… always learn. But I will move back to Algeria in a year. That is where I have many friends, and a proper house, and a future. People think too much of money here and it is good to earn money here, but I cannot live here always.” We talked about how there’s nothing that can equate to that feeling when you return home after a long trip or extended stay away from you’re home. He wished me the best, and we shook hands before I slipped skillfully between the closing doors, boxes back atop my head (as I’ve still yet to cave in for an umbrella, opting for maps and newspapers instead).

I thought long and hard on my way home about this man and his life; about the true nature of happiness, and how and when to know if you’ve got it. I learn a lot from these exchanges, and it perfectly summarizes the value of the last two and a half weeks of my life.

We were on spring break, and while the rest of the kids in my school were off in Italy and Greece, and the Canary Islands, I was working each night at the Roundhouse. My friend Charles whom I met at the Oxford Arms in Camden got me the job. It involved stocking and taking down the bars each night, and tending the bars themselves.

One of the reasons I decided to work here during Spring Break (aside from the obvious reason of saving money until my month of travel after the semester) was the historical allure of the venue. It was turned into a music venue in 1965 after first being used as a both a train station and a wine cellar. Pink Floyd played their first show involving their revolutionary lighting effects here, supported by the Soft Machine. The Doors played 4 shows in 2 nights here with Jefferson Airplane on their ’68 European tour. They still hold the record for longest encore ever played in London. Read the full history of the Roundhouse here.

I was bartending in the venues main area for all of the shows, and was able to enjoy each of the acts. It was a really quite a challenge, as I’d never bartended before, and was unaware of how to make many of the drinks that were requested of me. Drinks like Shandys, Snakebites, and beers with tops were initially challenging. Also, many bar items had different names, for instance, Sprite is referred to as Lemonade. On top of this, most of the people I served were from places all across the world, so their accents were often extremely thick, with many customers speaking hardly any English at all.

This proved less of a challenge at my first gig, Plain White T’s, as most of the crowd consisted of pre-teen girls. The shows after were a complete 180. Back to back nights from the late 80’s electro group Underworld. Their song was the theme to the film Trainspotting. Their song “Born Slippy. NUXX” is heard in the final scene, and was released as a single afterwards. The crowd at this show was mostly over 35 Europeans. The majority had either drunk or drugged themselves heavily before arriving. This coupled with their thick accents, the pumping techno, and their hectic dancing and singing made it quite difficult to understand them, let alone serve them drinks.

So far, besides those two acts, I’ve seen Jane Berkin, New Young Pony Club, Reverend and the Makers, Paul Weller, Jimmy Eat World, Billy Bragg, Newton Falkner, Roisin Murphy, Stereophonics, Panic! At the Disco, Jesus and Mary Chain, DJ Shadow, and Supergrass. Click here to read my reviews of the DJ Shadow and Jimmy Eat World shows.

The best part about the job by far though, was getting to know my co-workers. It was a really interesting mix of characters. I’ve gotten to know several of them quite well. Every night after work we’d head out in Camden and taken in the sights and sounds of a top London scene.

There’s Joel, the early 30’s chap who was a film and philosophy major. We often forgo working for extended discussion on favorite authors and American politics. He exposed me to the free flowing thoughts of Carlos Castenada, and lent me several of his books. He frequently play football at Regents Park with a fellow named Ross who works there too.

Ross is what as commonly referred to as a Chav. A chav is the type of person that Ali G was loosely based off of. Head to toe Adidas and Nike gear, slits in the eye brows, and boisterous behavior. Great guy.

There’s Felipe, my mid 20’s amigo from Sau Paulo Brazil. He tours with a band called, Bodes De Elephante in Brazil. He’s opened for groups like Battles and Kasabian in his home country, and came abroad for some industry experience. He knows all the members of CSS, and told me about how they started out opening for them as a joke. They’ve since caught on to the extent of world tours and all the major festivals. His friend Marcio works there as well, and works in music promotions.

There’s my good pal Jack Case, and first year in University working in his spare time after classes, and enjoying the shows. With a shared love for Wes Anderson films, we became quick friends at work. He’s fixing to become and Architecture major. We frequently attend cheap films and art exhibitions, and he’s shown me the courtesy of an introduction to London’s house party scene (more on that in blogs to come). We plan on road tripping across America in one of the coming summers.

There’s Matt, the British university grad who’s debating whether or not to go to law school. He’s currently teaching English to Chinese and South American students, and working in the Roundhouse at night. He’s the first homosexual Brit I’ve gotten to know.

There’s Emmet, the gay Irishmen, who’s a contestant on a popular reality T.V. here on Channel four called Vanity Lair. He’s one of the nicest person’s I’ve ever met, and quite hilarious.

There’s Daniel, who manages an artist named, Alexander G Muertos. He’s just signed a record contract, and I’ve convinced the booking agency I’m working with, Helter Skelter, to go check him out at his next show in Camden. Alexander has had trouble getting signed by certain agencies because he’s the former boyfriend of Amy Winehouse, who has demanded they not be associated with any of the same agencies.

There’s the Roberta, the Lithuanian who loves to talk about basketball. There’s Ela, my Ecuadorian supervisor. I work also with several Frenchmen, British girls, eastern Europeans who speak hardly a word of English, and the list goes on. It’s been a wonderful experience and I wouldn’t trade it for any trip to anywhere.