Cornered and Ironclad tour, Gothenburg to Copenhagen

Day 7, Gothenburg to Copenhagen. Things go to shit.

If you already knew what happened on tour, or if you got a sense of foreboding from the end of the last post, then you may already know what’s coming.

Good night’s sleep, and then we headed out to the van. The van had been broken into.

The back door’s lock barrel had been completely removed, and the back had been ransacked. Tom had got there first with Franke and Nick, and there’s a split second where I think it’s a seriously stupid joke. Unfortunately, it’s not. Guitars, heads, amps, pedal boards, personal bags – they’re all gone. There’s a police car driving past that we flag down, and I run back to the flat to let the guys know. The next part’s a jumble of calling the others, listing missing stuff for the police, and an inability to actually do anything. There’s so many things which run through your head – what if I’d stayed at the other flat with the van, what if Niels and Rofe had had to sleep in the van, what if we’d parked elsewhere? So many what ifs. Saying that, the amount of stuff that was taken means that there had to be at least two thieves with their own van, and the way it was done makes it look like they knew what they were doing. If someone had slept in the van, this post might be about how someone got hospitalised as well as the gear being stolen.

When we’d told the police what we could, we went to get Rofe and Niels. Rofe called his parents at this point, he’d lost a lot, and hadn’t taken out insurance. He’s telling his parents, goes quiet, and then gets emotional. He hadn’t taken out insurance, but his parents had. Best parents I reckon. We got the other three, and then stopped at a shopping centre to recap and figure out what to do. The general decision was to try to borrow gear to play the Copenhagen show as it was on the way back, and then cut the last three. We were carrying the backline for the gigs, all the gear was gone, and Franke’s a left handed guitarist.

So we’re sitting outside this shopping centre, getting some food, and the mood’s odd. It’s as if we’re all not quite sure what to feel. Some of us haven’t lost much, others have lost thousands of pounds worth of gear. It’s odd. Thing is, it’s not out and out down. Nobody wants to let go of the good time we’ve had up until this point. Go to get some stuff for the drive, and walk back past the alcohol store. Get a crate of 24 7.5% elk beers, and take them back for the others. Rofe heads off, and gets six cheap bottles of champagne. Case of “fuck it, it’s happened”.


Boot it down to Copenhagen over the massive bridge again, and get to the venue. Takes a couple of circuits to park up, dropping people and beer bottles out of the van. Pissing in the street in the middle of the day, and people trashed enough to get halfway up the street before realising they’ve only got one shoe on. Leave the rest and head over to Tivoli, because I’ve been wanting to ride on the Star Flyer again. It’s an 80 meter high carousel, and it’s one of the scariest rides I’ve been on in my life. There’s no sudden shocks, but the only thing holding your seat to the canopy are seemingly thin chains while you’re at a 45 degree angle. Damn thing’s closed for repairs though.

Gig’s not too great, partly down to borrowed gear, partly due to people being angry and steaming drunk. Sitting outside chatting afterwards, I ended up leaving the keys with Jonne and heading back to an Icelandic woman’s flat. Only reason you’re getting told that is because it’s needed for the next day to make sense.

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