Liverpool in the Mist: Drumsticks, Damp Air, and Dodgy Chippy Advice

okay so here i am in liverpool, and let me tell you-this city smells like wet concrete and ambition. i just checked and it's 9.28°c there right now, feels like 9.01°c, so basically, wear a jacket or become one with the drizzle. humidity's at 93%, which means my hair is doing that weird frizzy thing that only happens in places with more water in the air than in the river itself.

i'm here on tour with a band that's still figuring out if they want to be punk or just really loud folk, and my job is to hit things in order and try not to drop a stick mid-song. so far, so good-except for that one time in the green room when i mistook the kick pedal for a footrest and nearly face-planted into the snare. classic.

if you get bored, manchester and chester are just a short drive away. manchester's got that whole "rainy but cool" vibe, and chester looks like it was built by time-travellers who really liked tudor beams. but liverpool? liverpool's got soul. and also, like, twelve different types of rain.

"don't eat at that place on bold street," a local whispered to me while tuning his bass. "the chips taste like regret and the gravy's just hot brown water."

i heard that the waterfront at sunset is worth the hype, but honestly, i spent most of my daylight hours hunting for a decent flat white. found one at a place called "Root Coffee" that had more plants than customers and a barista who looked like they'd just finished writing a novel about existentialism. the coffee was great, though. strong enough to make me contemplate starting a solo project.

staying in a tiny airbnb near the Baltic Triangle-if you're into street art, converted warehouses, and the faint smell of craft beer, this is your spot. i kept expecting to run into a tech bro or a startup founder, but mostly it was just other musicians and one guy who claimed he was "reinventing the accordion."

walking around here feels like stepping into a song that's still being written. the architecture's grand, the people are sharp, and the accents are so thick you could spread them on toast. i tried to order a "roll with bacon" and got something that sounded like "roy wiv bacon," which i'm pretty sure is just a phonetic miracle.

anyway, here's a map so you don't end up in the wrong part of town and accidentally join a pub quiz you're not prepared for:

and because i'm contractually obligated to include photos that make it look like i know what i'm doing, here are some stolen-from-the-internet visuals that sort of capture the vibe:

if you're coming here, bring layers, bring curiosity, and maybe bring your own gravy. and if you see a drummer frantically tuning a floor tom in a back alley, that's probably me. say hi, but don't ask about the setlist-i lost it yesterday and now i'm just winging it.