It’s Wednesday evening. I’m sitting upstairs, backstage at the Hamburg show on the outskirts of the Reeperbahn. The venue is surrounded by sex shops and kebab restaurants. I have a banging head cold, inherited from Emily who’s been sick for most of the tour. What with the close quarters and sharing mics, this was bound to happen. 

 

Because I feel like death on a stick, I’m particularly excited to get…