After 6 years of writing, recording, mixing and designing "Madame Fruitbowl", creating Wilberweb, then hosting a launch party, I decided to take a break, recharge my batteries, and find out how America would greet "Madame Fruitbowl". I needed to escape, and slipped out of the country almost unnoticed, taking a bunch of CD's with me. The trip quickly turned into 10 weeks of snoring, excitement, adventure and coast to coast buses! My first stop was a Damned gig in Boston, where I met Captain Sensible (below) and passed on a copy of the CD.

After sightseeing in New York City, I was intrigued to find out how Fruitbowl would go down in the rest of the US. Being master of the cheap budget holiday, my aim was to spin out the trip for as long as I could on the flimsiest of budgets, by travelling overnight on Greyhound buses. On my way to Ohio I got talking to a woman in her fifties about American Presidents. She corrected me when I assumed former First Lady Ladybird Johnson was dead. Ladybird had already made funeral arrangements at the company where her son worked as a mortician, who was more than likely to be embalming her too !

After suffering the worst hangover of all time among friends in Columbus, Ohio, I was off to Chicago. Bleary eyed from another long haul journey, I suffered from what turned out to be the biggest problem with my accomodation... snoring. But in Chicago they were snoring in stereo. Earplugs were useless...

The first character I met in the Windy City was Lamont. He drank coffee in a Starbucks wearing a bright red construction helmet and promised to show me around Chicago. Over "Cookies and Cream" milkshakes, he revealed he served a 2 year sentence for fraud! Later I stumbled upon a house where a psychedelic band were playing. I walked upstairs to an exhibition of sculptures, paintings and a photo archive of somewhat dubious taste in the back room! The place was owned by Fred Burkhart, a cross between Timothy Leary and Frank Zappa, and something of a local eccentric who was once nearly beaten to death by the Klu Klux Klan.

In Minneapolis at a local Mall, I found myself thrust in front of the American Media and former Presidential Candidate Walter Mondale, out of retirement, who was running in place of a Senator that died in a plane crash only weeks before (I later discovered the Democrats lost). I made another sale from commenting to the hostel manager the colour of the wall being the same as the CD!

Back on the buses I made more sales. Americans were so friendly and curious, and most were struck by the packaging and design. I began developing a sales patter. For the American market, I decided, it was "alternative Brit pop" (which it is!).

However I was to make no sales on the long journey from Minneapolis to Denver, an unforgettable journey for all the wrong reasons.

The passengers included a crumpled old woman who stank of urine, and a man behind me muttering "motherfucker" repeatedly under his breath. It was an unhappy experience puntured by overlong stops in the middle of the night and paranoid bus drivers (due to a Californian driver having had his throat cut.). The bus was crowded and I didn't sleep. And to make matters worse we entered Mountain time that extended the trip by another extrutating hour!

Thankfully I survived and was picked up by old friend Davin with his kids in Denver, feed pizza, showered, and kindly allowed to occupy the entire basement of their house, replete with own bathroom...

Jen and Davin had been good friends since my first visit in 1990. One day Jen drove me and the children up Pikes Peak, a mountain nearly 3 miles high and one of the tallest in Colorado Springs. The icey road ran along the cliff edge, and I was ready to literally leap out the car door, though the view compensated for my fear of heights.

After another marathon bus journey, this time 40 hours, I arrived in Vancouver where I arranged to meet Sarah, whom I'd met in Chicago. She promptly picked me up while "Madame Fruitbowl" played in her car stereo.

After a great night I retired to the hostel to be woken at 6am by loud voices and screaming. It was the Police who had come to arrest an Irish man on suspicion of committing suicide. Apparently he'd made threats to kill himself to his girlfriend, a criminal offence in Canada. The Police responded by pumping him full of electric shocks to calm him down, which woke the rest of the hostel.

The area I was staying was on the edge of Chinatown. To get to downtown I had to cut through a whole area of drug addicts and prostitutes. Some genuinely sad cases greeted me during my stay, the persistant Vancouver rain being the least of their problems.

I met Alex (left) on the bus to Seattle. Alex, a part-time wrestler, introduced me to Betty, a part-time actress and homeopathist who had once met Jim Morrison. Before I knew it I was whisked off in a limo to a Japanese restaurant where I was treated to a meal.

They made me welcome and let me stay in their basement for 4 days, giving respite from the snorers and other distractions. Betty kindly ensured another sale and I ended my visit with an invite to the world premiere of her latest film.

In Portland I met Charles (or Harley as he preferred to be known). He'd fought in Vietnam and had steel pins holding his legs together. However he also claimed he could speak fluent Dragon, was decended from a white Indian tribe, and his Great-Grandfather was part Elf. Before he died at the grand age of 160 when Harley was just 7, he put his hands on Harley's head, transposing all his knowledge and wisdom into him before keeling over!

The night after attempting to win $100 in a karaoke competition, I ran into a couple (above) who scooped together the cash to buy a copy. Portland turned out to be the Fruitiest town in America with the highest sales of any city!! More sales followed. I sold albums to a Mexican who claimed to have seen Moses and Jesus, and a man I'd simply asked directions. By this stage I was halfway through the trip. Physically enduring all those bus journeys would take their toll. But the experiences were so enriching that mentally I felt completely refreshed.

From being bitten by a dog in Berkerly and sightseeing in San Fransisco, I caught a Greyhound to Las Vegas. Changing buses at LA bus station at 5 in the morning, I met the cousin of Boney M's singer and a man who wanted to kill Michael Jackson! Vegas was notable for the fact I gambled away $7, and shared a sumptious hotel room with an Australian lesbian in the old part of town! To get you to stay in the casinos, they pumped the air full of oxygen and removed the clocks! Inevitably, Madame Fruitbowl had just too much class for Las Vegas to be her kind of town!!!

Among the catuses in the heat of the Arizona desert, the album received regular airplay at the hostel in Tucson, Arizona. Over a Starbucks, the owner tried to strike a deal with me to recover his stolen Bronco from Austin, my next stop... Austin was the live capital of the US, and I watched tons of acts, ranging from duelling piano players to blues and rockabilly bands, in the hope of picking up some tips for Wilberforce! That's where I ran into Gary the "singing troubadour" who sang to couples on the streets for money. Such were his powers of persuasion he reckoned he could get me a sale in no time. And he did!

Struggling through a cold in New Orleans I got wrecked on Bourbon Street, where women would reveal their charms from rented balconies to drunken revellers. Amongst this backdrop I met Tammy one drunken night. As we hopped from one bar to the next, she would become maudlin and cry "they buried my brother today". It became apparent she was in a lot of pain.

Away from the main drag of tacky tourisism, I popped into the historic Preservation Hall to sample some great jazz. The leader of the band took me aside to give me some invaluable advice. "You need two things, a product, and the media". Fortunately for him he knew the guy at the local TV station. But it lead me to get the album reviewed on my return to England.

The trip from New Orleans to Columbus involved 4 changes of buses over 26 hours, every one of them late, resulting in missed connections. From the relative warmth of Louisiana, I was suddenly thrust into the freezing snow of Ohio! My return to Columbus enabled me to recover from my cold and clear out my ruc sac. This time I stayed off the booze and toured the local art galleries where one of the owners, Shawnda, bought a copy and subsequently played it over loudspeakers to the passers-by on the street outside! After returning to New York, I flew out from Boston, ready to prepare Wilberforce for life out on the road with my first live performance in a band for over a decade.

To order a copy of "Madame Fruitbowl" click here.