Sofia to Thessaloniki- Crutches - Gig 1

 

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Thursday, October 17th, 2024 – Thessaloniki, Greece

Tom, me, Andreas, Oskar, Daniel - Crutches

This day felt like a long week rolled into one. I woke up feeling a little melancholy — missing Charlie. I texted to say I was in Sofia and his reply was,
"How is she?" — totally summed up his sense of humour (and he’s only 11!).

By chance more than anything, I successfully navigated the Sofia metro and walked to Serdika bus station, where I grabbed a FlixBus for a bargain €8.50. A five-hour journey later and I was back in Thessaloniki — this time staying in an apartment about 5 miles out of the city centre, close to tonight’s venue. It cost €45 and even had a washing machine, which I took full advantage of. I must be becoming civilised in my advancing years.

On a less punk note, I stupidly forgot to pack the charging cable for my (now antique) iPod, and I’ve just finished my book (too good to put down for long). So, for Sunday’s flight home, I’ll either need to find another form of entertainment… or just sleep.

Before heading to the gig, I took a walk to soak up the buzzing, semi-urban area — full of life, a bit chaotic, but in the best way. I arrived at the venue early and met up with Crutches — it was good to see Tom, Andreas, Daniel, and Oskar again. They even gave me a little present: a miniature but mighty potent bottle of Underberg comes in tiny 20ml brown bottles, each wrapped in distinctive tan paper. The idea is to drink it all in one go, like a shot. Absolute legends.

I first came across Crutches at Manchester Punk Festival last year. To be honest, they scared the shit out of me — full-on, feral Swedish d-beat that came at you like a freight train. I watched from a safe distance. But then I got to know them properly at Levy Punk Weekender and saw the other side — humble, funny, principled, brilliant people. After that, I decided to self-appoint myself as Chief Groupie and Hanger-On for this short Greek tour.

The Greek DIY punk scene is the real deal. Self-run, self-funded, and beautifully organised — a total lesson in community. This three-night run across Thessaloniki, Larisa, and Athens is held in squatted venues with zero police interference — so long as they stay under the radar. Ask too openly where the venue is and you might get shut down, or at least looked at sideways.

But once you’re in, you’re in. Tonight’s gig is in a crumbling building reclaimed by people with passion. It’s heaving inside, wall-to-wall with punks, no stage lights, just raw energy. Beers for €1.50, a makeshift bar, and someone offering shots of homemade Tsipouro that tastes increasingly decent with each swig. A giant sign above the bar reads:
"You’ll Never Drink Alone."

Opening band πάνω από πτώμα μου (“Over My Dead Body”) don’t even have a digital footprint yet, but they tore the roof off. Their dual-vocal, slow-burning hardcore is dark, thoughtful, and heavy as hell. They finish abruptly, without preamble or posturing, and I liked them all the more for it.

Then it’s Crutches. And fuck me, they were unreal.

No lights, no frills — just 25 minutes of pure sonic destruction. Oskar’s screaming and climbing the walls, Andreas and Tom murder their guitars, Dan is a machine on drums. The crowd goes off. It’s sweaty, joyful, totally fucking unhinged — in the best possible way. The band nearly sold out their entire t-shirt stash tonight. Says it all.

Their message is clear: unity, resistance, fuck the fascists. Their latest album Dösreveljen carries that spirit front and centre. Their tagline is “Mangeling For Freedom”. Someone asked me what mangeling means. I wasn’t sure how to answer — not in English, let alone Greek. But I know this: after seeing Crutches, your brain feels like it’s been through a mangle. And weirdly, that’s a good thing.

Vienna to Sofia

 

16th October 2024 – From Bites to Flights

Sofia

Up at 7am, still nursing the aftermath of Monday night’s mosquito war — bites everywhere, even on my thumbprint! But there was no time to wallow; I had to make my way across sprawling Vienna to catch my flight.

With no data roaming on my phone, I was flying blind — no Google Maps, no easy route-finding. Vienna is a huge city to navigate without digital help, and disoriented as I was, the metro system seemed like a puzzle I wasn’t equipped to solve at that hour. So, I hailed a taxi to the main station and then caught the CAT train to the airport — €20 for the privilege.

I arrived 2.5 hours early but couldn’t settle. Still buzzing from last night’s gig, still itching from the bites. Then, out of nowhere, a kind soul at the Aegean desk handed me a free coffee voucher. That man is a saint.

Boarded and landed in Sofia smoothly. Before the day slipped away entirely, I wandered through central Sofia for a few hours, soaking up the architecture, energy, and clear blue skies. One of the highlights was standing in front of the Ivan Vazov National Theatre (pic above) - a spectacular neoclassical building with towering white columns, golden sculptures, and a postcard-perfect façade. It was hard not to be impressed by its elegance and grandeur — a total contrast to the DIY punk vibes of Vienna the night before.

Exhausted but content, I watched the light fade across the square, before I found a bed, regrouped and headed for some well-earned rest.

Rested (kind of), I set off on foot for the 3-mile walk back into central Sofia. On the way, I stumbled into good fortune — a bar, and inside, a Scottish drinking buddy named Archie, an ex-army vet with a thick, impenetrable accent that I had to work hard to interpret.

Over a few beers (and a whiskey for good measure), we found common ground quickly — Brexit, racist cunts, and twats in general. Archie was particularly bitter about the post-Brexit travel restrictions. “Used to be able to live here year-round,” he grumbled, “Now I’m limited to 90 days at a time.” (Or whatever the damn rules are.)

It was one of those random encounters that makes travelling so unexpectedly rewarding — politics, pints, and pure honesty from a stranger turned instant mate.

The long walk back to my hotel — which I think was one of those EasyJet-affiliated ones — helped clear my head a bit. I was tucked up in bed by 10:30pm, ready to hit reset on another wild day.