On June 29, 2008. The Arch Angel touring organization wrapped up phase one of its plan for world domination with a performance for an audience of wild-eyed youths and a few adults who managed to sneak past security at a festive gathering in Glastonbury.
The late afternoon performance was telecast live by the BBC to a nation hungry for another look at us, or perhaps it was just hungry. It was tea time, after all.
"It wouldn't be Glastonbury without the mud," we had been told, but still our vocalist was promising to the press that we would deliver some California sunshine to the site. Somehow, he was able to deliver.
As it was, our performance—which had the potential to be something akin to a gig at the old Hollywood Tropicana, the saloon at Hollywood and Western where the main attraction was mud wrestling—was a sun-kissed love fest. The sight of 130,000 or so people, depending on who’s counting, waving their arms during Sweet Caroline was one that Touroids won't soon forget. (Those 130K audience members weren't there just to see us--Jay Z, John Mayer and Leonard Cohen were among the others on the bill.)
Nor will they forget our unplanned break in the middle of the show, when electricity for the audio system went away for a while. King and Ron kept the beat going, which was all that was required for most of the audience and the Beeb, so when the juice was restored, the vocalist leaped in at the exact spot where the interruption had occurred, with a look on his face that could have been interpreted as “I meant to do that.”
Convincing a jury that the extended percussion solo was entirely planned was made a bit more difficult because of the puddles of sweat accumulating around Bernie Becker’s audio work station. But Bernie is such a grizzled veteran that he knew how to make us sound like we were doing just what we intended.
After the show, traffic made it necessary for us to a swift exit (we call it a "runner") with our police escort. We had planned to have dinner on the bus, but a little culinary miscalculation, resulted in our having to enjoy a sumptuous banquet of potato chips and peanut butter. Mmm, my favorite!
Later on, the reviews from our appearance began to roll in, and while that little moment out of time had been noticed by some, the spin tended described as “Diamond Triumphs over Technical Glitch.” Which, in retrospect, was exactly what had happened. Bravo, British journos, you got it right fer once.