Woke up to a glaring winter sunlight, reverberating all over the snow-covered harbour, burning our retinas. A lone rusty tanker, the Atlantic Huron, is docked behind the titanic grain silos, its hull and propellers frozen in thick ice. Sometimes a movement occurs, the ice shelf cracks and maelstroms of water gurgle beneath the ship. Arthur captures the clicking of loose sails and cables in the wind with his little recording machine. After an hour the frost bites our feet and fingers so hard that we are forced back into the cosy venue on rue St-Joseph. There we meet Lily Frost, who took a ten hour-drive from the US to open for the show. In the dressing room Rosemary fixes the shape of her zebra dress with a cutting knife. After a month-long interruption in the tour we are surprised to feel the songs fall back into place easily, opening with Bacon, Cottonflower, then Isabella, but also feel the jet-lag take its toll at the end of the gig, during a few unexpected memory losses. Around midnight we walk back to the hotel, dragging the double-bass through the snowy slushy sidewalks of Québec city.
Moriarty on tour: Québec 16.02.13.
