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This year, just like last year, Henry Rollins is visiting the Hammersmith Apollo, a theatre sitting 3500 people, on his brief stop over in London.
This tour is called ‘25 Years Of Bullshit’ which I hope does not refer to Mr Rollins’ material but rather the bullshit he’s had to endure in the last quarter of a century.
I don’t believe that Henry ever talks crap, he is far more inclined to try and educate us and entice us back on the right track.
Here he is, right on cue, one of the best stories teller, in his usual uniform of a pair of grey trousers and tight fitting black T-shirt, cleverly showing off his enviably fit body.
He is also sporting a thick mane of silver hair which gives him a rather suave and sophisticated look.
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He picks up his microphone and off we go!
Henry has the incomparable gift of dragging you through the whole gamut of human emotions.
During this evening you will laugh hysterically, you will fight back tears, you will feel shame, guilt, sexual arousal (if you’re a woman, if you’re not, I guess that’s OK as well), you will wince and cringe.
Cringing we did, (I saw grown men hold their heads in pain), as Henry shared with us his very hasty decision to travel on the Trans-Siberian Express, from Moscow to Vladivostok, through Siberia, in February 2005.
Yes! it was toilet humour, literally, as he proceeded to tell us about the toilet on the carriage and a female member of staff struggling with its frozen content, including human waste.
He painted such a picture that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
But where Henry really hit bulls eye was when he decided that we were ready to hear all about him having to consume, against his will and better judgement, a meal prepared with love by the charming Russian ‘hostess’.
From what I have gathered you would not have fed your dog the steaming plate that Henry politely managed to polish off.
(Honestly Rollins, you’re a smart guy, why didn’t you just open the window and fling that shit out?).
Unfortunately for him and us, his after diner treat was not a box of mint chocolates, but the compelling need to run to the aforementioned toilet and empty the content of his stomach.
He had clearly spent some time studying the process and was an expert on the subject.
We were treated to a trip down memory lane as far as self-inflicted or not, projectile vomiting or just the ordinary kind is concerned.
From toddlerhood to teenagehood to adulthood, Henry was very generous in sharing his knowledge which translated with equal measures of hilarity and cringe-worthiness.
At some point during the evening, the roller coaster of emotions you experience becomes self-explanatory.
Words leave Henry’s mouth but 3D images hit you, often in Technicolor.
Nothing to complain about when he is talking about sex or humiliating his own President.
Not so pleasant when he takes us with him to visit injured soldiers, back from Iraq.
We could see missing limbs and horrifically disfigured barely adult faces.
We could smell the waste of young lives and read the pain on the soldiers’ mothers’ faces.
This is the part of the evening when Henry manages to shut up 3000 people. There are no more laughters ringing around the theatre, just tears welling up, a feeling of guilt, perhaps a little shame at the reality of the world we live in, at the part we involuntary played in these young soldiers’ fate.
As expected but required, George W Bush received quite a few lashings from Henry’s whip. Like it was the President’s birthday and Christmas rolled into one.
Satisfyingly and deservedly, PM Tony Blair also got a slice of the cake.
But there was light relief as we travelled to New York and encountered a young Pakistani cab driver called Ijaz.
After a short ride to the airport and a multitude of personal questions directed at Henry, including that taboo one: ‘what do you do for fun?’
answered by ‘I read Marcel Proust’, Ijaz made Henry an offer, Henry found hard to resist.
To take Henry to live in Pakistan with him and Ijaz would even drive his cab day and night in order to raise the required funds to pay for Henry’s plane tickets. Now you could not say fairer than that!
They would live in Ijaz’s house and be happy forever. Whether running water and electricity were included in the deal was not mentioned.
Henry gave Ijaz his phone number on the understanding that the latter
would call him a few weeks later.
To Henry’s disappointment weeks and months have gone by and Ijaz hasn’t rang, obviously having found a better suitor.
This whole episode has left Henry rather hurt, feeling rejected, some might say even heartbroken.
Well Rollins that’s men for you!
Before we knew it Henry was waving goodbye! What!
Two and a half hours barely seemed like 45 minutes....now that’s what happens when you’re having fun.
If you are one of the people who didn’t book a ticket this year, thinking that the material might be very similar to last year’s, big mistake.
Henry’s life is far too rich and colourful for him to need to do the same tour twice.
The bad news is, after a wind whirl tour of the UK, Henry is back in the States.
The good news is, he is back soon walking our land.
After the show, Mr Rollins told me that he should be participating in the Download Festival in Donnington, scheduled this year for the 9th, 10th and 11th of June.
So keep an eye out for Henry’s date to be announced.
And whatever you do, give Henry the pleasure of entertaining you, as that’s what he does best.
Words: Florence ACHERYPictures: Alison DYER
www.henryrollins.com
www.downloadfestival.co.uk |
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| Henry Rollins |
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