Tour report from Kerrang


We have joined Cable and China Drum on tour to find out just how debauched rock bands can be. Tales of sex aids, porn movies, cock maracas, speeding, flashing, cake throwing and shit-sucking will follow.
Rock bands love touring. Principally because it gives them an opportunity to indulge in alcohol abuse, chuck TVs out of windows, and introduce young ladies to their fishy friends.
So, when we heard that two of Britain's finest young bands, China Drum and Cable, were hitting the UK roads together (with smart new spunk pop types Carrie in tow), we thought we'd hitch a ride to see which group would throw themselves most willingly into the depraved pit of rock 'n' roll debauchery.

Day Two
Middlesborough with Cable.
"I was a shit-sucker before I did this," Cable drummer Richie Mills informs us, as the Derby quartet sit down in a Middlesborough restaurant to face the least appetising pizzas in history. By this Richie means that his previous job was to drive a lorry which emptied portable toilets. In case you wondered. Cable have come a long way in the party animal stakes since the days when they sheepishly rang up their record company to ask if someone could settle their bar bill in London's infamous Columbia hotel. That bill in total: ?19.
"Next time we spent ?260 and got barred," guitarist Darius Hinks laughs, "We were turning the lights off in the bar at four in the morning… using bottles thrown from the other side of the room." Any similar experiences on this tour? "No," Matt admits, "but I did get locked out of my hotel room in Glasgow after I had a drunken urge to parade around reception in my boxer shorts."
Good man. As we observe the band getting stuck into red wine and vodka, it's safe to assume that Cable don't follow the Drum's pre-gig alcohol ban. "We did a gig drunk in Coventry and had to be escorted out before we were beaten to death with baseball bats," giggles bassist Pete Darrington. "I thought the evening got off to a bad start when it was advertised as a 'Reggae Night', bearing in mind we're not strictly a raggae band," Matt laughs. "The place had skinheads on one side and Asian guys on the other; a nice family atmosphere. I drank a half-bottle of vodka to give me super reggae powers…" "…But he actually went onstage singing 'You wankers! You wankers!'" Pete interjects. "We lasted two-and-a-half songs."
Tragically, the band failed to get escorted out of their hotel-from-Hell in Dundee on this tour. "There were piles of vomit in the corner of the rooms and ants in the sink, and they took a deposit off us in case we broke something," says Pete. "We would have done a shit in the wardrobe, but it was already full."
This evening's gig is in Middlesborough Arena, where we watch a bouncer spit in a punter's face as we walk in. Charming. Fortified by red wine and the tour bus sounds of Black Sabbath and Iron Monkey, Pete flashes devil horn salutes like a man possessed. And Matt is in fine form, introducing the final song 'Oubliette' with the words "This one will come up your arse like a cock". Backstage talk afterwards revolves around the concept of "cock maracas". Don't ask…
Back at the hotel, Matt makes a late bid for rock 'n' roll infamy by turning a TV upside down (ooh!). Then Pete bursts into the room with the colour drained from his cheeks. What's up?
"I've just seen Zac from Carrie's cock," he says.
Cable's rock 'n' roll debauchery rating: 3/5

Paul Brannigan