So it's 3am and the effects of what I took earlier are starting to wear off. Cage the Elephant are back home in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Four hours ago, we played a packed house party on the same bill as two of the best bands that I've heard in a long time. It's hard to believe there could be so many cool groups in such a small town, but then again, it's hard to wrap my head around anything when my hands are dripping off my arms and down to warm pools at my feet.
I'll pick them up later.
There isn't much to do here so everyone's around, drinking keg beer. And the cool thing about home is that when the show's over, we sit around playing guitar and trading tunes till the sun comes up.
The first band on, Sleeper Agent, are like a cross between the Stooges and the Pixies. Their lead singer, Justin, played drums in another band for years, and sings like you think a drummer would - all rhythm and delivery with a big screw-you-to-melody attitude. I bought my fun for the night from a seedy, dreadlocked hippie - who looked like the bastard child of Bob Marley and Loretta Lynn - before catching Morning Teleportation, a mixture of the Beatles and - yep - the Pixies, whose lead singer is called Tiger. Hell, why don't I have a name like that?
I'm starting to feel a little strange now. Tiger, I suspect, feels this way all the time. He's a real space cadet, if you know what I mean. So 45 minutes later, I step on the stage feeling a little Hunter S Thompson - full of liquid and loathing and unsure on my feet. The crowd is an ocean, waving and spinning, and all the faces are one face; it's you and me and Tiger and Justin, and it's a roar and a crash and we're all in it together, audience, music and band, blowing through to ... now, 3am, and here I am, on my way back from the stratosphere to little old Bowling Green, KY.
• Cage the Elephant tour the UK until 26 November