Idlewild Tour Diary

On the road, and online: The Big Issue gives you exclusive access to Idlewild frontman Roddy Woomble's tour diary...

November 4, GLASGOW

The day after a tour finishes is always a bit of a melancholy moment. Post tour blues I think it's known as. It's not that being on tour is so amazing that depression sits in as soon as it's over, in fact 50% of the time I'm away I long for home. It's more because it's quite an intense experience, spending so much time with a group of people, the adrenaline of rock concerts every day, and highs and lows of drinking alcohol most nights. Aerogramme had a song called 'post tour pre judgement' which is a good way of summing up the few days after a long tour ends. When you focus on all the good stuff and all the fun that you've had. I know next week I'll have my usual opinion of touring (hard work, bad food, no sleep, missing your family, etc) but today I'm not thinking like that. I'm of positive mind, and I think we've played some great concerts.

There's been some talk and worry amongst Idlewild fans about us calling it a day after this 'best of' album and tour. The reality is that there's nothing the five of us like doing more than writing songs together and performing them. Our records might not sell as many copies as they used to (although they do sell well still) but I don't think that's because they aren't as good. I'm of the opinion that we're getting better at describing ourselves, and writing more interesting songs the longer we go on. So no, we're not 'splitting up', the opposite in fact, we're playing Edinburgh's Hogmanay in December then getting to work on our seventh album.

I've enjoyed writing this tour diary and I hope that it's been, in some way, an interesting insight to the goings on of a band on tour around Britain and Ireland in October and November of the year 2007.

November 3, EDINBURGH

Wake up early in Glasgow and get dropped off with my piles of junk that I've unintentionally collected over the past month on tour. Spend the morning at home, having breakfast, pottering around, then drive through to Edinburgh and check into the hotel before heading to the Queens Hall. I love the Queens Hall as a venue. We've played here once before, in 2002, and I've done a solo folk show here last year which was great fun. It's got an old fashioned charm to it and is really beautiful inside. The fact that they have ushers selling ice cream in between the bands is just the icing on the cake.

It's the last night of the tour and it's fitting that we're playing here in Edinburgh. It's the bands home. Where we formed, where we wrote most of our songs, where we still rehearse and where Colin and Rod still live. Edinburgh is a great city to go back to when you've haven't been there for a while. It's so ornate and pretty to look at and walk around, and all the students and tourists give it an atmosphere unlike anywhere else in Scotland, or the UK for that matter.

Our concert is surprisingly nerve free, everyone is relaxed and really wanting to enjoy the last show for a while. It's all going well until a fire alarm goes off during 'El Capitan', initially no one notices thinking it's a part of the song but after we finish we're told that we can't go on and a lady from the management has to come on stage and make an announcement that the building will have to be evacuated. It's a bit of a blow since the show was in full flow and the band and audience were lost in concert world. Still, after 20 minutes standing outside, and a brief visit from the fire brigade, we're given the all clear and the show commences at a furious pace.

There's no time for encores unfortunately (we have to cut a few songs out of the set) but the audience enthusiasm only gets stronger and when we finally have to leave the stage, everyone gets the feeling that it's been a great, unpredictable, but fittingly dramatic last concert of the tour. There's a party atmosphere backstage, with lots of family and friends, and champagne and good whisky. Things move onto the hotel bar where a hen night from Newcastle join in with the proceedings. It's all good fun, but I say my goodbyes and thank yous to everyone involved in the tour and head to my bed about 4am, with a head full of whisky, but a glow of satisfaction through my tired body.

November 2, BELFAST

Wake up outside the venue, another student union. Buy a paper and a coffee and sit in the dressing room for a few hours. Have a shower and a chat to The Twilight Sad, then sound check. Decide to play a few numbers we haven't done yet so it's a surprisingly good sound check (they're not normally known as my favourite things to be doing).

Watch the whole Twilight Sad set from the side of the stage. Rod is playing with them tonight and it sounds great with his distorted hammond organ adding to the layers of noise. I must say that I think they've become my favourite new band. I love James' words and voice, and the rest of the band play brilliantly around him. They have a sound that's almost stream of consciousness, lyrically and musically. And they're all great people to be around. It'll be sad not to see them everyday after the tour is over.

Our own set is a lot of fun. Belfast is always a boisterous, energetic crowd, a lot like Glasgow. Even after twelve years of playing concerts, I'm still always overwhelmed by how loud a crowd will sing along to every word. It's a great feeling for me, to know that I've written song words that people have liked enough to remember.

After the concert, as has become habit over the last four weeks, we hang around in the dressing room, drinking beer and whisky, listening to John Lee Hooker, chatting to some locals. Head back to the tour bus for the last night in my bunk. Again, I fall straight to sleep and even sleep through another ferry crossing. Some of the others go up on deck and to eat a fried breakfast and watch television. I normally love ferry crossings, but for some reason the Belfast to Stranraer crossing is maybe one of the dullest in the world. So I don't feel that I'm missing much.

November 1, DUBLIN

Haven't been to Ireland for a few years. I know Dublin quite well. We've played here a lot and recorded most of our album Hope Is Important here in a studio above a pub called Mahaffeys on Pearse Street. I like it as a place, although I've never been able to get my head around it completely. It often feels like it's trying a bit too hard to be a chic, cosmopolitan capital when, at its heart, it's a gutsy town full of drink and stories. I think Glasgow does this balance better. Still it's good to be here, although again, I don't stray away from the venue. I eat lunch and dinner in the downstairs bar, and spend the rest of the day mucking about on an acoustic guitar and looking at old books on eBay.

It's quite a small venue and stage so I spend a good portion of the concert trying to avoid Allan, Gareth and Rod's swinging guitars. A lot of the crowd have traveled for the show. People from Finland, Poland, Austin, Texas and Japan. I think everyone enjoys themselves, it's a tough on-stage sound, at times it feels like I've been singing along with only drums. But this is irrelevant for the crowd and I get the sense it's a good concert.

Afterwards everyone decamps next door to Whelans, the well known musician's drinking den. Gavin, who used to play bass with us is here tonight, and is coming with us until Edinburgh. It's great to see him. Gavin's well known in Dublin and is perfect pub company. It turns into a good night.

October 31, LONDON

Get to spend the day off in London which is good news. We have to leave at midnight for the long drive and ferry crossing to Ireland so everyone makes most of the day in the capital. It's mostly a shopping day for the rest of the band, spending all their PD's (per diems - a daily allowance given to touring bands reluctantly by tour manager) on records, jeans and shoes. I go out for lunch at the fabulous St Johns restaurant in East London with my wife. It's our wedding anniversary, so we celebrate it with a long, tasty meal. St Johns is famous for using all the off cuts of meat and offal that other restaurants would shy away from, so you can eat venison heart, pig's intestines and liver until your heart's content. It's all done with quite some panache though. Great wine too, and our waiter turns out to be an Idlewild fan, and used to promote bands in Brisbane at a club called the Zoo, where we've played twice before.

In the evening I hang out at the newly opened Rough Trade shop in East London. Sons and Daughters are playing a Halloween in-store which is good. Any record shop that you can drink beer in is all right by me. Sad to have to leave London but board the bus at midnight and fall asleep straight away. I wake up in Dublin. I even sleep through the ferry crossing.

October 30, LONDON

It's a cliché, but a truism, to label London as the main place to play in the UK, because it obviously isn't, but it's a city with a looming, heightened sense of importance about it, especially where rock concerts are concerned. I suppose because of all the media types that linger around the back walls of the VIP bars, pens and opinions poised in judgement.

We're staying at the K West hotel tonight. It's become something of a hip place to stay in recent years. It's close proximity to the BBC, a number of the main London venues, and most of the UK record companies offices are the reason it's always full of pop star tryouts, drunk A+R men, and indie bands complaining about the price of beer. Still, the rooms are nice and big, the beds are huge and comfy, there's a stereo in every room and Aveda products in the bathroom (for those of us who are into our artisan grooming lotions - I'm looking at you Allan Stewart).

Koko is a very ornate venue and looks quite special from the stage, all the balconies and boxes give it a scale of grandeur. Unfortunately it's an awful sounding room in terms of sound onstage and offstage. Loud in that horrible abrasive way when everything starts to mildly distort and you can't hear yourself properly for a day or so afterward. Still, we try our hardest to make the concert work. There are a lot of people here who've traveled from all over (Italy, Japan, Scotland and beyond) to see us. London is easy to get to from all the world's other cities and we hardly ever play outside the UK so it feels like a bit of an international crowd.

Afterwards I hang around the dressing room chatting to a few old familiar faces from our days with EMI, as well as Dave Eringa, our producer and good friend. Dave has an enthusiasm about our band and our songs that warms the heart, one that has made us carry on in many a moment of doubt over the years. It's great to see him. I retire to bed early and leave the K West bar with all its posturing and overly priced lager for the rest of the band to enjoy until the small hours.

October 29, CAMBRIDGE

Spent the day in the venue. Was planning on a long walk into town and a leisurely look around all Cambridge's wonderful old buildings but such is the way of being on tour, that it wasn't long before I was sucked into the vacuum of the dressing room - the tour bus and the stage. The three constants in any touring band's daily routine. It wasn't a bad dressing room mind, and the promoter had gone to town with the rider, lots of Sainsbury's 'Taste the Difference' breads, cold meats and cheeses, which is what you want. The worst one we've ever had was years ago at the Future Club in Derby where the rider consisted of one large onion, a loaf of the cheapest, nastiest white bread, a block of bright orange cheddar and one plastic knife.

My new laptop computer was given a full service by a few of the more computer literate types, so now it's stuffed full of every conceivable modern distraction, including ichat, which was a bit of a revelation. I ended up ichatting to Colin for most of the afternoon from separate ends of the dressing room. I'm sure the novelty will wear off soon. Probably tomorrow.

The concert was a relaxed affair. The audience was great and knew their stuff. It's almost disconcerting sometimes when you're singing a song and the audience seem to know all the words better than you do. Afterwards we hang around for a while, until the first-on band tonight, a local group, decided to smash some bottles. Maybe it was an accident, but it's not a cool move if intended. Richie, our sound man, chased them home in his best Glaswegian.

Must mention tonight's meal, maybe one of the worst meals I've ever eaten, at Chiquita's Mexican restaurant next to the venue. It's a chain, so I don't mind having a go. Truly disgusting, over priced food that tasted about as far from Mexico as it's possible to get. I can still taste it in my mouth now and it's tomorrow.

October 28, WARWICK

I like campus universities, I never went to one, but there's something nice about them. They're like their own little towns, full of student halls, clever looking lecturers, and lots of 2 for 1 drink deals in crass looking student pubs. Warwick University seems nice. We've played here twice before and I remember it being good. It's weird that we've not played in nearby Birmingham at all this year, as it's a city we've always pulled a big crowd in, and gone down really well. Today the main goal of the touring party is to get some washing done, so we spread out to roam the campus in search of a laundry. It's the boring things like this that make tours and being in a band feel a lot more like being on a caravanning holiday as opposed to a wildly debauched, glamorous collection of crazy nights. Some big bands take washing machines on tour with them, or have a person especially in charge of washing everyone's clothes. That would be a strange job. Traveling the World's cities and concert halls washing Bono's vests and some dirty roadies combat shorts (it's what they all wear). I don't mind launderettes, so maybe it's something I should think about in later life.

Next door to the dressing room an enthusiastic group of student are dressing up in medieval clothes in preparation to re-enact some pivotal battle. As surreal as it sounds, the corridors are full of young men dressed in tunics wielding axes and swords, and girls in Maid Marion style outfits. What a strange thing to do with your spare time. Eat a roast dinner at the student union cafe, best described as 'functional', although the clearly hung over group of students sitting around me are audibly more enthusiastic. My wife arrives from Scotland to spend a few days with us which is lovely so I spend the rest of the day hanging about and chatting to her.

The concert at night is good fun, I feel like I'm saying that everyday, but short of going into a song by song analysis, the best way I can think of summing them up, without resorting to expressions like 'explosive' or 'mind-blowing' . We play well as a band these days, and are really comfortable with all our songs, we've got a great sound man (Richie) and monitor engineer (Maddie) and a very organised tour manager (Dominic), and importantly, we all get a lot of satisfaction and enjoyment from playing music together. So short of a major technical disaster, it's always good fun.

October 27, NOTTINGHAM:

Saturday in Nottingham. Busy city centre streets. The 80's vaguely Satanic poodle rock band WASP are playing an afternoon show (!) at the Rock City, the venue next door to the one we're playing in, so the whole area is awash with skin tight stone washed denim and irony free Warrant and Stryper t-shirts. The Rescue Rooms, where we're playing, is a cool little room with incredibly sticky floors run by a really friendly German lady.

Spend afternoon surfing the internet, and YouTube specifically, watching old Dylan and Grateful Dead footage and a few of the hundreds of clips of our own shows that have been posted up in the last few years. It took me a while, initially to work out why people started holding their phones aloft and pointing it at the band for the entire song, when it all started happening a few years back. Now I know. It's not that I disapprove, in fact it's quite a creative endeavor. Everyone can try their hand at making a concert short, then let others see it and comment, and in a strange way it's quite cool to see yourself in all these different pixilated past realities. The only thing that's disappointing, often embarrassing, is the truly god awful sound quality. Although I suppose I should be grateful, when sound technology improves, less people might come to concerts.

Eat a fish finger sandwich at the bar, then pretty much go onstage. It's an early show, which can be hard to get into, for band and audience alike, but I think by the end the whole place is having a good time. The audience seem delighted to see us and are very vocal, singing along and shouting requests. After the show the three weeks of late nights and alcohol have caught us with most of the touring party, so it's an evening of cups of tea and the 'Old Grey Whistle Test' DVD.

October 26, BRISTOL:

Have our day off here in Bristol. Last night, being Martin's (guitar tech's) last night on the tour before his upcoming wedding, turned into a bit of a party/impromptu stag night. The only downer of the evening was a group of drunken moronic lads trying to break into the bus repeatedly while it was parked just beside the venue.

End up parking in a services outside Bristol and I go to my bed about 4am but Richie, Gareth and Allan are just about thinking of going to bed as we arrive outside the Jury's Inn at 11am. I just don't have that sort of stamina anymore. Have to wait in reception for what seems like an age until our rooms are ready. They're playing the most insane music I've ever heard in the lobby, it sounds like about three different 'greatest chill anthems of all time' CD's being played simultaneously. All the while there's a piano player in the corner of the bar knocking out standards oblivious to the mental sounds coming out of the speakers. After a while I get used to it, and after an hour and a half I'm actually beginning to enjoy it.

The rest of the day is a typical day off on tour. Nothing happens and I don't leave my hotel room. I lie on the bed, read the newspapers and a novel, drink rubbish hotel room tea, and then watch some more Ingmar Bergman films on DVD. 'The Serpents Egg' is one strange movie. The rest of the group find the drinkers will, and head out to sample some local cider with the Bristolian band Fortune Drive, who supported us on a short tour last year.

October 25, EXETER:

I have a soft spot for this town. In 2001 we lived (for three weeks) about twenty miles away recording 'The Remote Part' in Sawmills Studio, which you have to get to by boat, and thus feel like an enchanted island, a place to immerse yourself in yourself so to speak. I came into Exeter on one of those nights, to eat a pizza and see the now defunct London group Ikara Colt blow the roof off the (brilliant) Cavern Club. We've played here quite a few times as well, the last time at the Lemon Grove, where some girls threw a collection of G Strings and other underwear onto the stage, which unfortunately landed on my head, mid song. I had my eyes closed and didn't realise until the end of the song. I had no idea why the audience was laughing, but I'd just emoted a sensitive tune with two pairs of pants tangled in my hair.

The venue is an arts centre called the Phoenix, a great little complex with cafe, gallery and venue. Have a shower and a coffee and look at some local art. Eat some caesar salad then play the concert, which is cool. A packed venue full of people who are passionate about the band and songs. Always a good thing.

Afterwards it's Martin's last day with the group, as he's heading back to London to get married next week. He's a great person and it's been great to have him around. He'll be missed. We all head down to the Cavern Club to toast his upcoming nuptials.

October 24, FALMOUTH:

No one has been here before, there was a rumour going around that it was where fish maestro Rick Stein has his restaurants (Chalky R.I.P.), but it turned out to be false. They're in Padstow, about twenty miles away. Still, it seems like a lovely little holiday town. Go for a wander and eat a delicious Cornish pasty. Find some good second hand record and book shops, which has long been a (mildly obsessive) hobby of mine. Buy some old Neil Young LP's and a book on mountain flowers. Ever since reading Roger Deakin's excellent book 'Wildwood', I've been paying a lot more attention to all the trees and flowers round about. It's something I'm keen to learn more about, unfortunately I have a very bad memory for names.

The concert at night is in an old fashioned hall called the Pavillion's. It soundsgreat on and offstage, and the two ladies who run it are friendly and enthusiastic. It reminds me of a venue in America, well run and designed to make the band and audience happy. I wish there were more venues like it. The crowd is quite subdued, but not in a bad way, more in a way that shows that they're listening, although one older woman at the front shouts out "play something we know" after we've just played three of our most well known tunes. A minor moment of concern for the band. the rest of the crowd seem to lap up the longer, more, dare I say, jammier songs. A lot of surfers in the crowd though, well known as a sub section of society that enjoy herbal refreshment.

After the show everyone goes down to the nearby beach to set off some fireworks that Gareth has bought during the day. It's mildly exciting, but very cold. Andy from The Twilight Sad comes close to setting himself on fire, his judgement being impaired somewhat by the litre of 'Scrumpy Wullie' cider he's put away. Still, it's all okay and a nice end to our first Falmouth visit.

October 23, PORTSMOUTH:

My father has been telling me for an age to go and visit the Royal Naval Museum in this town. He's a scholar of modern history and finds endless fascination in nosing around warships. Sadly I don't share the fascination, although I do morbidly appreciate (if that's the right word) modern man's ability to better itself in elaborate ways of killing itself. Martin, our guitar tech for the tour (and former drummer in Scotland's greatest prog rock metal band, Aereogramme) takes up the challenge and thoroughly enjoys himself, even buys a Captain's hat which he gives to Craig, the bassist in The Twilight Sad. He hasn't taken it off since.

The concert at night is a bit of a comedown after the Barrowlands. It's not a bad set, and the crowd, although a bit on the sparse side, seem to enjoy themselves. It's always hard to play loud energetic rock songs to a venue that isn't full, just because everyone in the room feels a little too self-conscience to let themselves go, band included. A packed, sweaty rock venue is it's own ball of energy. It can be a powerful thing, if you've seen a brilliant rock group play to thousands of people so into the music that the whole building literally comes alive. I've seen this a few times, Pearl Jam in Chicago, and REM in New York. It's a great feeling.

After the show it's a low key affair. I end up going to my bed early and watching some episodes of 'Planet Earth', the brilliant BBC documentary. I've just got my first laptop computer so it's quite exciting to be able to watch a DVD in my bunk. The rest of the band have been doing this for years. It's like having your own little cinema.

October 22, GLASGOW:

A recovery day off at home, not so much for me but for the rest of the band who had a quite a late night, to put it lightly. I don't do so much, clean the house a bit then pick up my wife from the airport.

Later we meet up at the Radisson hotel at midnight for the long overnight drive to Portsmouth. The Radisson hotel is where all our Crew and non resident band members always stay when in Glasgow. I'm not trying to get a discount or anything, but I used to always stay there before I moved back to the city, and it's amazing. Not too flashy (or expensive), just a quality hotel. Really nice staff, great bar (open all night to residents), comfy beds, free internet and decorated just at the right side of post-modern. Nothing much of note happens after that. I go to sleep and most of the rest of them watch endless DVD's of 'The Family Guy'. I think that programme (although undoubtedly very witty and well written) is maybe the most annoying thing in the world. It's a cartoon.

October 21, Glasgow:

After spending so many days off at home the past week, it's great to finally be playing a concert here. Glasgow is a legendary town for music and bands. Any group you ask will undoubtedly tell you that it's one of the best (if not the best) place to play in Britain. We're no different – even though the band are from Edinburgh and that's the 'hometown' show, so to speak, the Glasgow Barrowland has been something of a high point in any tour that we've ever done. This is the eighth time we've played here, the sixth that we've headlined.

For those readers who not familiar to the venue, it's basically a slightly run down ballroom in the east end of the city; 2,000 people can fit in, although I’ve heard stories in the 80s when 4,000 people used to cram in to see the likes of Simple Minds and Big Country. It's a Scottish institution, unfortunately being more neglected due to the 2,700 capacity Glasgow Academy opening a few years ago. The Academy is a soulless hall with terrible sound, and I say that as someone who has been onstage there, and seen quite a few shows from the floor.

It's market day in the Gallowgate, which is always a colourful affair. Great if you're looking for pirate DVDs, cheap fags or interesting old cameras, but not ideal if you're trying to park a tour bus and load in equipment. Still, luckily I don't have to do that, it's what we pay our crew for. I get to the venue about 4pm after a leisurely day at home reading the papers and drinking coffee with my pal Ally. We soundcheck, then order some Italian food from Satri's. All the Mums and Dads and extended Idlewild family are out in force so it's all very civilised backstage, chatting about wine, Bill Bryson, and how the tour's being going etc.

Nerves are running high for the concert, it's our bassist Gareth's first show with the band at the Barrowlands (he joined the group at the beginning of 2006) and he's equally as excited as he is shaking. He needn't worry though, it all turns out great. The crowd, as usual, is brilliant. They sing so loud that at points I can barely hear myself (this is a good thing) and during the encore, when we break out our early singles as a thank you of sorts to all the people who have followed us for 10 years, the dance floor turns into an old school 'mosh pit', the kind that was a familiar sight back in 1997/8. The only difference being that back then we were playing in the back room of pubs. It's an exhilarating evening, and one, without wishing to sound cheesy or sentimental, reaffirms my whole faith in being in a rock band and the good it can do, for band and audience alike. Andy from the Twilight Sad joins us on guitar for the last few numbers, adding his inspired brand of noise. It's a great Idlewild concert, if I say so myself.

Afterwards, it's almost like it's the last night of a tour. Spirits are running high. Allan and Gareth have already been booked to DJ at the Barfly club, but have only recently realised that Babyshambles are playing a secret gig at the same venue tonight. Thoughts turn to poor Pete and the paparazzi surrounding the dingy Clyde Street club. I head home after a few drinks backstage. I get the sense that the whole evening has the possibility of turning messy (and I don't necessarily mean that in a derogatory way). I get home, stick on an old record and lie back on my old, tired couch, and I'm happy.

October 20, Dundee:

I grew up about 10 miles from Dundee, and it's where I started going out to drink beer and watch bands 14 years ago. Dundee is a city of nostalgia for me. When I think about it, I think about my Granny, The Broons, Wallace's pies, the Beano and Dandy, and of course the accent. It looks and feels a particular way, like nowhere else in Scotland, maybe I'm biased, but I have a soft spot for most things Dundonian. The View remind me of being a teenager there, and I like them for it.

We haven't played here as much as in other Scottish cities, mainly due to its lack of venues. Up until a few years ago it was either a tiny club or the Caird Hall, which holds 3,000 people and can only be filled by the likes of Marti Pellow, or more reassuringly recently, The View. Now the main nightclub in the city, Fat Sams (or 'Fatties' to the locals) has opened a new 1,000 capacity venue, the right size to attract most of the world’s bands that live somewhere between culty and popular (such as ourselves).

We leave Glasgow at midday and get into Dundee about two. My mother picks me up at the venue and we head up to my Granny's house. I don't see my grandmother as much as I’d like. She's a great lady and is full of stories, as well as being a wonderful cook of traditional Scottish fare, like broth and scones and pancakes. It's an afternoon well spent, and I return to the venue with a dozen treacle pancakes for the rest of the band.

The concert at night is good, and the crowd is excellent, it always is in Dundee. The sound on stage is difficult though, another concrete room with bouncing walls. At points it's like trying to sing along with an aeroplane engine, but aside from a few technical difficulties, it goes down well. Afterwards we don't linger long. Chat to some of Colin's extended family, who also live in Dundee, then it's another drive back home, via Edinburgh to drop off Rod and Colin.

October 19, Aberdeen/Glasgow:

Today is an interesting one, we drive overnight from Oban to Aberdeen in order to do an acoustic set for the Tom Morton show on radio Scotland. I'm a fan of Tom Morton, I think he's one of Scotland's most interesting broadcasters, and the fact his show usually comes from a croft high up in the Shetland islands, and is officially Britain's most remote radio show is pretty cool, coupled with him running a second hand bookshop, The Bookcroft, again Britain's most remote outlet for second hand novels makes him even cooler.

He's got a great taste in music, and has supported Idlewild for many years, so it's a pleasure to do his show. It all starts a little early for a (mainly) hungover group of musicians, but after some BBC coffee and sandwiches everyone gets on with it, and we play the songs well enough, all things considered.

Then we drive back to Glasgow to become, for one night only, a wedding band. Dave Corbet is a Scottish concert promoter who has put on Idlewild concerts all over Scotland since 1999. Over the years he's become a real friend, and he met his (to be) wife at an Idlewild show in Ullapool years ago, so it's wholly appropriate that we accept the invitation to play a few songs at his wedding in the beautiful surrounds of Charles Rennie Mackintosh's House for an Art Lover on Glasgow's Southside.

It's a bit of a rush to make it in time, but it ends up fine, and we play the songs Dave and his wife Ruth want to hear. A little 15 month old boy dances to the music which is quite sweet and cause for many a digital photo to be taken by the guests. Hang around for a few drinks afterwards, but unfortunately don't get to see either Rod or Colin dance (which is normally quite some sight). Get back home about midnight. This week is starting to feel like a stop and start visit to all the corners of Scotland. Which is no bad thing.

October 18, Oban:

I'm in Oban quite often. It's the main ferry port to the Inner Hebrides to which I'm a regular visitor and almost a resident, but that's another long story involving a rich retiree from Somerset who had a lot more money than I do/could ever have.

Oban was also birthplace and home to Scotland's great unsung hero of fiction, Alan Warner. His book Morvern Callar is one of my favourite novels and I always make a point if I'm in Oban for the night to bring the book with me and re-read a few pages. I saw him do a talk at the Edinburgh Book Festival a few years ago and he said something that sticks in my mind regarding a famous old Oban public house: "being and nothingness is all very well, until you're sitting drinking in the Tartan tavern". I've always fancied going in for a pint, but I'm still put off by the fact it doesn't really have any windows. Anyway, I walk past it today and once again I'm struck by how pubs can hold so much more mystery and romance than any restaurant or shop. I suppose it's all down to how alcohol can alter your view, and make unremarkable places come alive with memory and stories. It's an interesting thought.

The concert, in the Corran Halls is full of very young people at the front, and people my own age and upwards lining the bar and back walls. I think everyone in the room has a good time, but the lighting is such that it's hard not to get the feeling that we're playing at a high school dance. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way though, in fact it's something I like about Idlewild – we're as at home in New York playing to a room full of leather jackets and haircuts, as we are in Oban on a Thursday night playing to drunken teenagers on their wild night out.

Afterwards most of the touring party go out to local pubs and end up at a party in some house by the shore (again, all very Morvern Callar). I'm keen to have a night off the booze, so I'm boring by standard and go and read my book in my bunk. Also, forgot to mention, another lovely meal at the resturant 'EE-Usk' on the old pier. Wonderful fresh seafood. Oysters, langoustine, white wine, all with a view over to Mull as the sun set. Lovely.

October 17, Glasgow:

Another day off at home, and it's probably the first UK tour I've ever done with so many days off in Scotland. Not that I'm complaining, although the day passed by in a flash. I was invited out to watch the Scotland v Georgia football match but I didn't go. I've as much national pride as the next man but try as I might I can’t get worked up for football. Sure, I like having a kickabout once in a while (I used to play football for my primary school team, I'll have you know) and I was a regular at Tannadice, watching my then team Dundee United in 1983/84, but nowadays I really couldn't care less. Still, I hope they do well because Scotland doesn't have much luck on the international sporting stage. Apart from curling. We rule at curling.

The only notable thing I ended up doing was trying my hand at making an interesting sauce to garnish my dinner, but I ended up phoning my wife, who's on tour in America, in order to save it from disaster. I also listened to most of BBC6 music's Velvet Underground day and reminded myself how much I love their songs. I saw them play at Glastonbury festival in 1993 when I was about 16 but at the time I didn't really know much about them. If only I knew then what I know now.

October 16, Inverness:

Wake up and it's sunny so I get up straight away and go for a walk around the town. Have my lunch in Leaky's bookshop, one of the best, and biggest old bookshops in the country. It's housed in an old Gaelic church and has a huge wood-burning stove in the centre of the shop, making the whole building smell of Christmas and making you want to linger in the atmosphere as long as possible.

This is also a great city for charity shops, so I traipse round a few and buy a grey woollen jumper. The venue is a purpose built hall called The Ironworks which is state of the art and has a great PA system, good facilities, and all the other 'new venue' trimmings.

After soundcheck we make the foodie's pilgrimage to the restaurant Abstract. All of Idlewild and most of the crew who work with us are united in their love of good food and nice restaurants. It's become a bit of an obsession to find good places to eat wherever we are.Needless to say it absolutely delicious and the service and decoration make it feel like a special occasion. After a starter of roast partridge with giselle mushrooms and a main course of slow cooked halibut with braised fennel and courgette puree, all washed down with a couple of glasses of lovely French wine (picked by the band's trained wine expert, Allan) it's becoming increasingly hard to imagine playing a rock show.

Still, we make it in just enough time and have fun, despite difficult onstage sound due to the concrete walls of a very echoey room. As I've said before, we tend to play completely different set lists each night, and it's always interesting to me to see the way that song choice dictates the different moods of the audience, and the band. Sometimes you get it right and there's a connection between everyone in the room, which is what makes a good rock concert memorable and special, and then some nights when it doesn't quite work and you get the distinct feel that the audience is waiting for specific songs. Tonight was more of the latter. Still, there's an enthusiasm to the music fans of Inverness, and now that there's a sparkling new venue, I don't think it'll be long until it's a regular date on most band's touring itineraries. After the show we head back to Glasgow and Edinburgh for another day off at home. Get into my bed about 4am. It feels like I've been on a surreal weekend break up in the Highlands.

October 15, Lochinver

I've been looking forward to today for a while. Lochinver is a tiny town on the northwest coast of Scotland, surrounded by barren, beautiful hills, on the postcard horizon of Enard bay. The drive takes about seven hours, but the scenery is so stunning that no one minds, and we make frequent stops to get off the bus, breath in the fresh air and take photographs.

The village hall is on the main (and only) street and overlooks the harbour. It's a small building; inside it's all old pine walls with hanging murals of fish in the sea painted by the local primary school. I saw Gareth's old band, Astrid (Herbidean pureveyors of sugar coated indie-pop) play here back in 2001 during the Highland Games celebrations. We were up in nearby Inchnadamph writing what would become our album The Remote Part. It was a wild night and we didn't stay long because a girl we were with got quite aggressively and unwillingly felt up by a drunken fisherman.

It was like the last party at the end of the world, the bar staff were as drunk as the punters and at one point dancing on the makeshift bar (slabs of Tennents lager with a piece of chipboard blanced on top). A police van was parked outside the front door, with a couple of local police men calmly smoking and waiting to arrest or caution pretty much most of the men leaving the building.

It's not like that tonight though. It's a Monday. Eat dinner in the riverside bistro, which is famous around Sutherland for its award-winning pies. It's hearty food in a relaxed environment, and coupled with the drive and the views, everyone is in the best of moods.

The concert itself is a very Highland affair. One thing I've always liked about playing outside Scotland’s main cities is that a real mixture of people come to the concerts, it's not just full of folk that have all the albums and want to hear specific songs from them (which is no bad thing) but people who have come out because something is happening. In many ways you're simply the entertainment for the night, but in a good, pretension free way. It's also a great gauge to see how your songs hold up in a different sort of concert. I think everyone enjoyed themselves, and there was some great dancing in the crowd.

After the show we hung around for hours in the old-fashioned dressing room that smelt exactly like youth hostels, and was giving me pangs of nostalgia for my teenage days as a keen hosteller. We're joined by a few locals and the whole affair again turns very Highland and drunken. I go to my bed eventually, but the rest of the band and the Twilight Sad keep it going until the morning.

October 14, Glasgow

Dominic, our tour manager, wakes us up at 8am in Glasgow and we all step off the bus bleary eyed onto the city's deserted (and very scrubbed looking) Sunday morning streets. It’s always a weird thing having a day off during a tour at home, on one hand it's really nice, sleeping in your own bed, doing the things you usually do (like listening to Radio Scotland and cooking good nutrious dinners), but it's strange in the way that touring takes over your system and it's hard not to feel agitated, thinking that you've got something else to do, except that you don't, you're at home having a day off. Anyway, I tried to relax, by reading the paper, stroking the cat and sweeping the path, and it almost worked.

October 13, Sheffield:

Get into Sheffield about two o'clock and load in all the gear and start to sound check straight away. The venue tonight is the Leadmill, a classic English rock venue. The perfect size (about 900) with great sound onstage and offstage have made it a real favourite with bands and audiences alike. It's an early show tonight because it's Saturday and there's a club on straight after the show. The day passes quickly, I eat my tea on the bus (courtesy of Marks and Spencer's and the microwave...again) and watch a bit of No Direction Home, Martin Scorsese's brilliant study of Bob Dylan, and then we're on.

It's a good show with a relaxed feel. The audience is great and energetic, and looking quite drunk from where I was standing. We play a few of our longer songs and hold people's attention, which to me is always the sign of a good crowd. Afterwards we're literally trapped in the underground dressing room until the bus picks us up at 2am. It's not as unpleasant as it sounds though, we even get a visit from a fellow called Tom, who plays the bass in the hotly rated indie band The Enemy. He seems nice enough, but I get the feeling that he's wanting us to admire his hairdo more than we're prepared to. End the evening hurtling toward Scotland drinking red wine and listening to the Twilight Sad. We can't get enough of them. They're a great band. Oh, and I also eat a kebab for the first time since about 1998. It's disgusting but addictive.

October 12, Leeds

Today is a day off. We're spending it in Leeds because Rod's family are from here and he's going for tea with his mother. I'm not a fan of days off on tour, I'd rather be busy. I'm well known amongst the rest of the touring party for never leaving my hotel room on days off, and today is (almost) no exception. Me and Ally (our trusted t-shirt seller) go for a long lunch in a nice Italian restaurant close to the Novotel where we're staying. Three courses, white wine, coffee etc, it's all so civilised, in fact when I'm older, with grey in my beard, this is the kind of thing I want to be doing every day. The remainder of the day is spent lying on bed watching Ingmar Bergman films. We watch Shame and The Passion of Anna. Not very cheery, but brilliant all the same.

October 11, Leicester:

Not been here for a while, it's actually normally been a town we've avoided as not many people seem to be too interested in our band. Still, the University Union has all been done up, sparkling laminated flooring and a smell reminiscent of Danish pastries.

Our dressing room is an old lecture theatre. It gives you the feeling that nothing has been taught in there for a long, long time. Leicester has an amazing record shop specialising in space rock and psychedelic music, called Ultimate Thule, but I don't get the chance to go as I'm starting to be sucked into the vortex of Tour Syndrome where one simply wanders from room to room, eats crisps and mini Mars bars intermittently, and asks the tour manager endless questions, like "How long is the drive from Falmouth to Exeter?". It's been hard to find any decent food so far on this outing, and today is no exception. Eat yet another Marks and Spencer microwavable pasta dish and watch a bit of the film Factotum with Allan on the tour bus.

The concert at night is an unexpected delight, lots of people really into the music. It takes a few numbers for the audience to get into the full swing of things, but when they do, they stay there for the rest of the show and when we leave the stage it's to loud clapping and cheers. Which is always nice.

October 10, Preston:

Wake up on the tour bus outside the venue, named 53 Degrees, which is purpose built, clean and new. It's part of the University of Lancaster, so the surrounding area is full of student cafes, unions, and vaguely hard looking students. There's also a poster fair on which I have a browse around. It's almost identical to the Fresher's Week poster fair I went to back in 1995 when I was a fresh-faced first year. I suppose it's quite reassuring that one constant in student life throughout the decades, is a picture of Bob Marley smoking a joint on the kitchen wall of the student halls.

The concert in the evening is very warm and very loud. We're cramped onto a smaller stage (it seems we're not as popular in Preston as originally thought), but it actually makes for a exciting performance, and the crowd seem to enjoy it. We're at a good place with the band now, that we can choose a different set list each night to suit the venue and the audience.

After the concert sit around in the enormous dressing room, listening to the new CD by the Icelandic band Mum, chatting to the guys from The Twilight Sad. The conversation moves onto the tour bus, and it's about 4am by the time they leave for their local B&B and we leave for the drive to Leicester.

October 9, Liverpool:

The venue is the Liverpool Academy, where we've played before several times. Liverpool is a strange city for Idlewild, sometimes a lot of people come, sometimes not so many. The promoter tells me that he's having a hard time selling out any gigs these days. What with less people buying albums and less people going to concerts, the future's not looking so bright for musicians. Still, you can't let that bother you on the first day of a month long tour.

I've never properly explored Liverpool I'm ashamed to say, despite many visits, and I don't do it again, I spend the time from when we arrive until we play sitting in the dressing room reading the Roger Deakin book 'Wildwood' and imagining myself living self sufficiently in an oak wood cabin deep in the forest.

Rod slips while he's watching the (excellent) opening band, The Twilight Sad and falls down a (fairly small) flight of stairs. It's enough to cause him considerable pain, distress and worry, but it all looks ok when we take the stage, until he pulls a move onto the monitor and falls over onto his already battered elbow. It overshadows the show somewhat and afterwards he's taken to the A&E in Liverpool where, after a three hour wait, he's told that he's got a slight hairline fracture, but that he'll be ok with painkillers and if he rests his arm as much as possible.

The concert itself is good fun, although we're all exhausted by the tenth song. Playing rock shows in sweaty clubs is hard work when you've not been so used to it. We've got a dedicated set of fans, it's true, and we're playing a lot of older songs on this tour that we rarely play. I suppose it's an invisible thank you from us to them. After the concert we settle into the usual routines of drinking beer and chatting to the other bands on the bill and various guests, known by those who work in venues as 'liggers', but i prefer to call them guests. End the evening all crammed into the back lounge of the tour bus watching a live Pearl Jam DVD. We opened for Pearl Jam on tour a few years ago, and they're one of the few bands that we all agree on. I go to bed when Gareth and Sound Man Richie start having a heated debate on the merits of progressive soft metal balladeers Rush. There's only so much one man can take.

The Big Issue Scotland