All of us accustomed to London traffic know the tangible certainty of “we’re going to be late”, but few of us can match this high-octane blast of a tale, from When Saints Go Machine frontman Nikolaj Manuel Vonsild, which boasts car chases, altercations and the quintessential charms of the London cabbie.
Running a bit late making our way to a gig in London our taxi driver got in an argument with another driver at a red light. The other guy, a huge, bald, bulky type of fella, sports car, walks over and wants him to get out of his car, our driver, fifty or something, so calm, wearing a gold ring, elbow resting on the window sill, just leans out the window and tells him to “fuck off or we could stop at the next red light and he would give him a proper grown-up beating and wreck his silly car”.
Green light, baldy runs back to his car and we’re literally chasing him for 20 minutes through London traffic while our driver’s yelling out the window all the way. We’re in the back trying tell him that we’re actually late and we’re playing a concert, so could we please get back to it. Think the action did cost us a couple of extra pounds, but we played well that night.
Two years ago it was still a dream for us coming to London to play our first gig. It was almost like we were fans of the city just because of the music. My parents bought their first reggae records in London and that’s the first music I ever heard.
We don’t fill huge music halls and it’s definitely not like time stops and stares back at you when we arrive at a venue, but we like crisps and broom cupboards and we love that the British don’t take shit from anyone.