9.23.2006
FAIRE LA SIESTE MIRANDA DE EBRO 9/23 Technically we played today (Sunday) as our stage time was about 0130h. After our last show, I wasn't so sure about things. We were sloppy, the audience seemed a bit indifferent (and we didn't really earn it that night, did we?) and I thought, maybe our time has truly passed. However, I was really pleasantly surprised by our show tonight. We had tons of energy, few technical problems to slow us down, great sound on stage, and we it felt like we were connected and unified. Mistakes didn't matter, they just fell into the mix and we course-corrected and adpapted. The audience was really into it, too. That makes all the difference in the world. The breakdown medly in the middle of "You're the Beautiful One" that referenced "Pour Some Sugar On Me", "Waterfalls", "What A Fool Believes", "Whole Lotta Love" and much more was worth the price of admission alone. The band before us, the Lori Meyers, were really good. Really good TFC/Zombies-style guitar and singing glory, in Spanish. The best flight option for me was an early morning flight on Friday so I will have spent all told almost 48 hours here in Miranda de Ebro by the time I head to the airport. Miranda was a village on one side of the river Ebro, and then a modern town grew on the other side. It's a small town, to be sure. And let me tell you, your Euro goes a lot farther here than in Paris. I wandered into a great, typical Spanish bar on Friday afernoon--small, family run, decor unchanged since about 1969, the clientele mostly men in their 60s but also the occasional young couple, and there was even a kid in a stroller parked there--and had a coffee, a bocadillo con jamon, and a small glass of wine for €3.90. At first I thought he was saying thirteen euros, and in Paris that would be a reasonable price (to expect, anyway) for those items. I hope that our appearance made the people of this place very happy and proud of their town's festival, now 6 years running. And now I'm going to say goodnight and also it appears this will be the last Posies show for awhile, I think it's time to withfdraw from view until such a time as we can do another record. This decade? the next? What's a record? Love KS Miranda De Ebro, SPAIN
9.18.2006
IF WISHES WERE FISH, IF DEER WERE DEARS I have been assembling a wish list. At the top of the list, I am looking for a workspace, an atelier, in Paris. I found this last week a wonderful place, but it was out of price. The place had been a kind of factory for the perforated folding lengths of cardboard that drive a hurdy-gurdy (‘orgue de Barbarie’ in French). When we went to look at the space the production was still in place: the perforator was perforating, the folder was folding, and a man ran a kind of shellac over the finished books. We were treated to a play of ‘La Strada’, which, me being quite a Fellini fan, I recognized right away. But I couldn’t afford to buy the space. But, I have only looked at two places so far. Dom says that I should be prepared to look at least 30 and I agree with the prognosis. So here are my wishes: 1) An atelier to call my own, in the 11th or maybe the 12th arr. 2) A suspension, for, say, 300 years, of ALL religions, until the aggressiveness is bred out of humanity, and we can end killing, colonialism, enforced ignorance and all the other deplorable traits that seem to be unavoidable parallels of the major faiths. It’s time we admit that humanity made the vengeful, violent, jealous, oppressive and sexist God/s in OUR image, not the other way around. Maybe a three hundred year break from the battle for supremacy against various infidels (I am not singling out any particular branch—they are ALL guilty in my eyes) will allow us to develop other capacities that will provide us the maturity to contemplate the infinite without panic. 3) I would like to have a decent second serve, but I know I am asking too much. 4) and I want to play a show in Bratislava on my November tour. I’m working on it. Love KS on the train between Paris and St. Pierre des Corps
9.10.2006
NEW BLANK DOCUMENT I have taken a kind of leave, repairing and re-creating (isn’t that the productive end of the normally aimless recreation?) myself, and to that end I spent this weekend on Ile de Re, finding great comfort in the healing light of that place. In fact, I will skip to the end, and mention that I had had a long conversation with someone about omens they had seen—and they had really encountered their own tarot in the woods. A fierce battle between two insects; a box turtle; a black snake. Well, if ever there was a time I was looking for a sign, a talisman, an omen, it’s this week. This morning, I awoke to report after echoing report—hunting season had begun and the chasseurs were after pheasant and rabbit. As the day took shape, the guns grew quiet, and the day was allowed to proceed: a gleaming example of what I have begun to cherish above all other times of year—late summer. The precious changing of the guard of the careless, blazing summer and the time of thoughtful preparation and reflection in the face of winter, mortal and dark. In fact, warmth is still the order of the day both on Ile de Re and in Seattle, to name two very different samples, until October. It’s just the filter it’s refracted through is so much more poignant, suggestive and interesting. The light gets longer, and thoughts start to take shape, find focus and bend over the length of the smoky, visible hills. In this atmosphere, this evening around 7pm, Dominique and I walked along the beach, through fields and amongst vineyards. By this time the birds were attempting to roost and the rabbits were attempting to feed. And thus the hunters set anew on them. So periodically our conversation was distracted by the puffy shocks of rifles, which truly sounds like the whipcrack of air being turned inside out rapidly. We passed an open field, and saw a rabbit in flight—a beagle had emerged from a stand of bamboo (this is a common windbreak on the island) and had smelled prey in the air. They sensed each other, but never saw each other. The dog turned to its right and searched for its master. The rabbit, 70 yards ahead and to the dog’s left continued on to some thick gorse. Luck was truly on its side. It was too early in the evening to be under the fatal jurisdiction of the owl, which was resting on a fence post, part of a fence long consumed by time, just a few wind-lathed posts in the middle of this field. I saw first the rabbit, then the dog, and then I saw a brown shape on the post—this was all visible as the field was a little bit lower than the dirt track Dom and I were walking along. I thought it was hawk for a second, but I have learned (from Dom) that when you see something you know is bird but is making you think cat it’s an hibou. Your brain registers the downy, triangular ears and the large, forward-facing eyes long before you are aware of what it is you are looking at. I immediately started towards it, going down the few yards of the grade and then I was crossing the field of dry grass and weakly interlocked vines. And after about 30-40 yards of progress I was looking at smallish brown owl. And of course, as owls will do, it looked back. I didn’t want to startle it prematurely from its rest, so I didn’t get closer than 15 feet (which is pretty close when you’re talking about wild animals). There I could see every detail: the eyes; the fluffy, huge, talons; the stripes down its chest. It was a perfect nut brown as to enable it to patrol with equal, easy command the charred grasslands of Ile de Re’s summer, the dead vegetable labyrinth of the salt marshes, and the autumnal fallow soon to come (or at least hide in those places by day—obviously, the owl is invisible and silent during the night when it is active). I observed it for a while, and made my way back to Dom. I prayed that no stray shot would take it. In fact, I was more concerned about a world without this creature than I was for a world without me. Dom agreed with me that this was an omen of great fortune, and easy to interpret. The return of the stare, with soft, regular blinking, has long before me contributed to the nomination of the owl as a symbol of wisdom. And truly it is wisdom that I call upon in my journey through the thicket that I find myself navigating nonstop. Today in the Atlantic Ocean I swam about 400 meters, furiously, to a buoy and back, parallel to the shore, further out from the beach than all the swimmers and as far as a few kayakers, to prove to myself that I had determination and endurance in all my endeavors. With wisdom as my mark, I turn my bow towards it and marshal all the energies of my being, full steam. Love KS On the train from La Rochelle to Paris
9.07.2006
VITORIA-GASTEIZ 9/1 One of your mellower Big Star shows, I think the crowds of Spain are mellowing, based on the two shows I played this weekend. I think both the Big Star show and the Posies show were played, and both crowds were incredibly calm. The Neurotica-era Redd Kross lineup were triumphant, absolutely top class. Steve McDonald’s soft-shoe, soul-man stage moves are very hot! And Roy McDonald--fergit it. He is, I think, the perfect fit. The other vintage punks, the Misfits, were less inspiring I’m afraid. It seemed at any one time they were all playing different songs, and singing in yet another key. 2/3 of the band was actually vintage Black Flag, meaning, they should have just made Jerry Only play Chuck’s parts be the Rollins-style side of beef that he is. I missed the Young Fresh Fellows’ set, but I’m sure it was genius. Having them around is like having 4 very intelligent puppies that like to drink whiskey—constantly wiggling, making jokes, and commanding your attention and affection, all while pounding the beer and Marker’s Mark, in the most jubilant way. It was nice to get some Seattle news as well. As for Big Star, we played well--I’m not sure very many people new our songs, and they sure as hell don’t know Patty Girl, but we did our thing. Alex was as healthy and cheerful as I’ve seen him in years. Thanks to Luis for the tennis! And the coffee liqueur, which I donated to the Posies rider the next night. ALAQUAS 9/2 I didn’t know when I arrived to this festival that the previous night’s international acts, Super Furry Animals and the Raveonettes both cancelled at the last minute. SFA was doing this small festival, in a dusty (and mostly industrial—putting the dust back in industrial, in fact) suburb of Valencia, as a makeup for canceling the previous year as well. So, I believe they are persona non grata in Alaquas, which they may not give a shit about. Having heard more details than I am at liberty to repeat (it is hearsay after all) I still think of them as pretty uncool after that. I had very compelling reasons to be home (see above) and was needed at home, but couldn’t bring myself to cancel these shows. Knowing what I know now…good move. Not that it was my favorite Posies show or the best show we’ve done in Spain, but, the gesture meant a lot. And of course we made some money, I know my bandmates were happy to get paid (our tours don’t always net much in the end!). The show was kind of sloppy, the audience a bit sedate, but the gear was good and I could hear well onstage, and the environment was well run and friendly. And the hotel was 100 meters away! And I had a 4pm check out the next day! I managed to get some decent rest, having declined the party that engulfed the dressing room after the show, and had the unheard of benefit of a 4pm checkout. I slept til 2.30 in the afternoon, only rising briefly for breakfast just before it finished at 10.30. In the afternoon I had time to meditate, have a very entertaining lunch of two jamon and manchego sandwiches with a glass of white wine made by the very friendly woman who single-handedly ran the bar and restaurant—this was above and beyond the call, as it well after lunch and long before dinner, but she pitied my plight and took the extra step. I am sure in France this would not have been the case! The cultures have very different views of service. In France, the server assumes a position of authority, almost like a cop patrolling a beat of tables. In Spain, the server assumes a position of importance to the community: having a paternal or maternal pride in the level of quality of life he or she provides the hungry mouths in their care. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule and the quality of the French and Spanish table is so high as to make this a petty, hopefully amusing observation… My extreme gratitude to the Cosmopolitants must be expressed for accommodating my personal need to postpone our recording this month. Indeed they are kind and sweet gentleman all. I have had other things to ruminate on since getting home other than posting this blog. I did take time out to go see Music Liberation Orchestra with Charlie Haden and Carla Bley last night. It was soothing, inspiring, and subtly defiant. Ah, and I saw Archie Shepp blow horn, sing, and softly play piano as the accompaniment of a frenetic dancer/shouter/uncategorizeable artist, all in a charming and chilly old theatre. My complete gratitude and love to Dominique and Aden. Love KS Paris
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The latest release by Ken Stringfellow is a split EP with Spain's Muy Fellini, featuring never-heard-before music incl. Ken's take on Bob Dylan, released by
King of Patio records
in Spain on Oct 8, 2009.
Order it directly from Muy Fellini here www.myspace.com/muyfellini
10" VINYL ONLY!!!
older news :
8/3/2003
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