In what we hope will be the first of many guest appearances, renowned author and musical newcomer Solomon Traycer takes time out from touring to reflect on his new experiences.
Barcelona's a gem; a great place for extra leisure time between shows (sorry – I know one ought to say “gigs”, but I'm a creature of a bygone age). While I may be a rookie in the music game, my modest success with the written word has given me a bit of influence – meaning I was able to put in special requests to the tour manager!
We seemed to go down well last night, despite breaking not one but two strings in the space of three songs. Astonishing how fast Jay can change them and tune them up. And the audience were very tolerant of my appalling Spanish. I was very moved when we came back out for the curtain call (sorry, encore) to hear them chanting – chanting! – for The Staircase. It's not as if it's sold that many copies; I suppose they must have heard it on YouTube. Anyway, it was a real high to end on; such a buzz, as they say!
The band and crew went out on the town till goodness knows what time but they understand that an old crock like me can't stand the pace after a couple of sweaty hours on stage. I preferred to get to sleep by midnight and have most of today to explore, so that's what I did. Don't get me wrong, we get on really well; in fact we're all out for dinner tonight to review the set before heading to Madrid tomorrow.
I wandered round the Ramblas this morning and then headed across to the Montjuïc side where there's an old bullring that's been turned into a shopping centre. As I stood on the viewing gallery taking in the magnificent view it struck me that I ought to set one of my novels here, maybe back when the bullring was still used…there you go; if it's not lyrics it's plot lines!
Right, back to the glamorous rock star life. I've got sore fingers, the novelty of being “on the road” is a distant memory and I long for a certain quiet cottage in Sussex. No! This really will not do! I always used to despise musicians bemoaning their lot as they travelled around lapping up adulation and indulging in their favourite pastime, and look at me doing the same! Shameful.
Well, I hope that's OK. “Give us a bit of the real Sol,” they said, so I trust I've obliged. Having spent decades speaking through my characters it's rather novel (pardon the pun) to be speaking as myself. It remains to be seen whether I, and you, take to it.