Sunny Coast Rude Boys UK Tour – Week One: Bacon, Bangers & Broadwater Farm
- Mick Hughes
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
Picture this: Ten Aussie Ska musicians (+ partners 'n kids!) flying into the UK like ska-fuelled missile — each arriving separately, each jet-lagged, slightly smelly, and armed with instruments, amps, and the misguided optimism that we’d all arrive on time. Miraculously, we did!
First stop: The Horn, St Albans, for our first UK show. We were originally booked elsewhere, but thanks to a promoter’s double-booking faux pas (classic), we got shuffled to The Horn. Which, funnily enough, sits on the same street where our frontman Mick grew up. So yes, full-circle moment. Emotional. Local boy done good. Very rockumentary vibes.
It was a Thursday night warm-up gig, and we were opening for Block 33 — an incredible mod band who’ve just gone #1 in the UK indie charts (no pressure). But it was home turf for Mick, so the crowd was stacked with his old schoolmates (all now 50 and ready to skank like their knees still work), plus English and Irish rellies, nostalgic neighbours, and possibly someone who babysat him in 1978.
And yes, we delivered! A 50-minute set of high-energy Aussie surf ska bangers, the crowd went off, and then Block 33 brought it home with a cracking set. We left the venue sweaty, hoarse, and slightly overwhelmed by the reality that this UK tour thing might actually work.
Midnight: we clambered into the tour bus like exhausted pirates. Some of us still smelt like plane food and customs security trays. But morale was high. Destination: our AirBnB in Tottenham, conveniently near Broadwater Farm. Not quite the Costa del Sol… but close enough. If you squint.
We emerged from our Tottenham digs like confused moles surfacing into daylight, drawn by the twin aromas of bacon and caffeine. Our kitchen looked like a ska-themed episode of MasterChef. Steve on bass was churning out barista-level cappuccinos, Kim (our caffeinated photographer) was already four espressos deep and editing like a demon, and Phil was in the garden retelling tour stories from the 80s that had us in stitches (and maybe needing therapy).
By midday, it was off to Coventry—Home of 2Tone—and after three hours of driving, we were greeted by the absolute legends Alph & Angela, who laid on a feast of jerk chicken, rice and peas, callaloo and sweetcorn. Safe to say, we didn’t play hungry.
The gig? Packed. Old school ska fans wall-to-wall. We’d done our homework (aka stared at framed photos of The Specials in the 2Tone Museum), took the obligatory selfie in the 'Ghost Town' car, then it was time to sweat like sinners in church onstage. The room was… cosy for a ten-piece band, and hotter than a Brisbane BBQ in January, but we brought the heat anyway.
We flogged a bunch of tour T-shirts and CDs, gained some new UK fans, and even got invited back. Glamorous post-gig pack down complete, we drove the 3 hours back to Broadwater HQ. The house? Looked amazing online. In real life? Bit... less amazing. The cleaner may have phoned it in, and the shower pressure was roughly equivalent to a toddler sneezing on you.
But hey, tour life, baby.
So... you know when your band leader casually pulls off something unbelievable and just acts like it's no big deal? That’s Mick.
We’re eating breakfast and next minute we’re at The Dublin Castle in Camden (yes, the iconic Madness/Amy Winehouse pub) with Guinness in hand, and who strolls in?
Only Neville Staple. The Neville Staple. From The Specials. The original Rude Boy himself.
He and his brilliant wife Christine (aka Sugary Staple) came to hang with us, have a yarn, take some photos, and give us all a masterclass in charisma. We tried not to look starstruck but we 100% failed. For ska fans, this is like having a cheeky pint with Paul McCartney, but with better rhythm.
Post-fanboy moment, we wandered through Camden Market for some lunch and vintage jackets (probably), then off to soundcheck at The Water Rats, Kings Cross, where we were headlining that night.
This venue has seen it all — Bob Dylan, The Pogues, Oasis — so naturally, it was time they experienced a ten-piece ska band from the Sunshine Coast, sweating profusely and playing horns at dangerous decibels.
Ticket sales were at 70% by 3pm... but in classic London fashion, by showtime we were completely sold out.
The crowd? Electric. Govi (drums) had mates from KING HAMMOND show up. Brookesy (baritone sax) had his whole Pommie clan cheering him on. Angus (our posh keyboard wizard) had aristocracy in attendance (rumour has it Prince Harry peeked in through the fire escape). Sive (alto sax) gained new fans—possibly due to her death-defying stage dives in St Albans. Jimmy’s little bro came to cheer on the trumpet, and Bondy gaffer-taped a plastic hand to his trombone for reasons unknown, but probably romantic.
We closed out with a 90-minute set of bangers—originals like Feels Good and Rudeboy Takeover — and the crowd sang along thanks to the magic of Facebook and Spotify. Big love, internet.
Sunday – The Ska Hangover & Farewell... For Now
Three shows in three nights = ten broken humans (eleven including Kim, our tireless photographer). Sunday was a write-off. We lay around Maison de Broadwater like old socks, sipping tea and trying to locate our dignity.
Mick went off to Dublin for a family reunion (and pint marathon), Tony went to Scotland to find Nessie, Govi disappeared into the London underground, and Steve was last seen floating down a canal in Salisbury with a jug of Pimms and questionable life choices.
But fear not!
We reunite Friday 4th July at SKAGATE Festival in Margate,
alongside our mates Death of Guitar Pop.(UK Essex Ska Legends!)
We’ll be back. Older, smellier, still trying to find a working shower and a strong cup of tea.
Keep ya posted. Rudeboys out 🇦🇺🇬🇧🎺
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