Denver, CO
Disaster! During the night my air-con has stopped working so I awake about 5am, drenched in sweat and feeling distinctly unpleasant. Because it's gas mark seven here day or night, the air-con in the hotel is permanently on and I haven't even had to think about it. I groggily slope out of bed and try and find the controls eventually locating them hidden behind a panel on the far wall. One touch switches the system back on and instantly the room starts cooling down. But the damage is done and with further sleep proving elusive I decide to get up and start the day.
It's lunchtime in the UK so half a working day's emails are already piling up and by the time I've dealt with them Dom's up and suggesting breakfast. A couple of hours later and we go down to the lobby to check out. However I've misread the day sheet and there's no-one else around. Transpires we've checked out an hour early and everyone else is still in their rooms.
Having settled the bill and handed over the room keys we can either sit like lemons in the lobby or find something better to do. And what better than a final wander along the river? We last approximately one minute in the heat before deciding resistance is useless and we may as well stop at Rita's again and sample her famous margaritas for one last time.
We return to the hotel at the allotted time, jump on the bus to the airport and soon we're off to Denver. It's a two hour flight and we've gone so far west we've crossed into another time zone again, meaning I'll be in four different time zones in as many days with the array of flights that are still to come. The body clock's going to be ruined by the time I get home.
Suitably belted into our seats we hit the cold air of the Rockies where it collides with the warm air of the southern plains. A hefty bout of turbulence rocks the aircraft and then we're through the thick cloud cover and a totally different landscape emerges below. Bare green hills in the grey overcast light remind me of the desolate grasslands of Iceland or Dartmoor. We sure ain't in Texas any more.
The forecast suggests severe thunderstorms are on their way which is a bit of a worry as tonight's gig is in an open-air venue. Thank God I've packed a raincoat just in case. But the tornados and devastation that's been hitting the midwest would make mincemeat of the little brolly I've brought along so fingers crossed we remain unscathed.
Descending the aeroplane steps the change in temperature is extreme, going from over 100 degrees fahrenheit in San Antonio to under 65 in Denver. They call this place the Mile High City and the higher altitude adds an extra chill. The shorts and t-shirts we're sporting aren't such a good idea up here in Colorado.
But a short transfer later and we check into the hotel. Dom has a few minutes to prepare and then we're straight into the interviews with various band members. I make sure all is going as planned and everyone's happy before nipping out of the hotel to find a store. I've run out of toothpaste so am searching for that but before I leave I ask the concierge for a street map and for him to point out anything of interest I should see in the local area. "There isn't anything really, sir," he apologises. "You could try Lower Downtown" - he circles it on the map - "there's some malls and bars there."
So off I trot, toothpaste quickly purchased, followed by a 20 minute saunter around downtown Denver. The clouds have broken and in the sunshine it's all remarkably clean, quiet and affluent. Considering it's 5pm on a Monday there's hardly anyone around and little traffic. There's even eco-bikes to park and ride on street corners. It strikes me that Denver probably has a great quality of life for its inhabitants but is so pleasant you'd probably die of boredom if you lived here.
I get back to the hotel and check all is running to time with the interviews and then have another look at the map. Looks like the State Capitol building and Civic Park is only a few blocks away. I go back down to the concierge who looks puzzled. "But it's only an old building with a gold top on it," he says. Yes, but it's probably something worth seeing. "If you say so."
He then offers me the use of their courtesy vehicle to see it so I hop in and the driver whisks me up to the heart of Denver. And a brilliant gold-domed building, set in a central park, located opposite a large colonnaded Courts of Justice, with the Museum of Art nearby, outside which are public sculptures, is all just minutes from the hotel.
Sightseeing duties duly satisfied I get dropped off in time to round up the interviews and we jump into the van with Bruce and his wife for the 30 minute drive to the venue. Bruce regales us with tales of his flying exploits (he flew a propeller plane into Denver this morning from LA!) and we discuss the effects that being over 5000 ft above sea-level will have on the performance.
Having played shows across the Andes in the past few years, including Bogota and Quito where just walking around can leave you breathless, Denver should pose little problem in the energy levels stakes but Bruce explains how it can affect the sound as it travels differently in thinner air. Bass notes don't have the same power while the treble of the guitars can be crisper.
And sure enough later on in Fiddler's Green Amphitheater in Denver there's a palpable difference to the San Antonio show. But then this time around the mixing desk is much closer to the stage and the venue is outdoors, both of which contribute to a changed dynamic.
Raw and edgy, there feels like more attack in the sound, and having daylight still in the sky when the band take to the stage makes this a different gig altogether. The crowd is different too, without the hot Latin passion that infuses the Texan audience. Bruce plays with them joking that the new song has a rap in it, to pander to record company demands, which confuses them no end.
But by 'No More Lies', 'Brave New World' and especially 'Fear Of The Dark', the massed voices of 12,000 fans are ringing out into the night sky. We wait until the band launch into 'Hallowed…' and then make our way backstage ready for the people carriers to fly out of the venue as soon as the gig finishes and sure enough we're back at the hotel within 15 minutes, and it's not yet 11pm.
I've already booked my horribly early airport transfer for tomorrow morning so all I need to do now is go to bed and wait for the 6am alarm call. Perhaps I'll just join everyone for a final drink. After all, what can go wrong with that?
