11.26.2007
CALLING TRISTAN EGOLF. ALSO: HELP ME EASE MY 'CYCLONE GRAVES' KARMA-DONATE NOW FOR RELIEF FOR VICTIMS OF CYCLONE SIDR.
It's estimated that at least €30,000,000 is needed for clean water, food and shelter (as well as helping repair damage to aquafarming and other livelihoods' infrastructure). I gave approx. 10% of my income from the tour. No amount is too small, or too large. BERLIN, 11/18 The show turned out to be great, the setting at Bassy was so beautiful, it looked like a movie set, and us set up in a circle in the center of the floor was nice, I was able to move to different areas and sing to different parts of the audience. In honor of the cowboy theme that the bar’s décor revolves around, I did a fake cowboy song sung by a fake cowboy—or thereabouts, I did “the Little Ole Wine Drinker”, a hit for Dean “Rio Bravo” Martin. I’m not sure I know anything about frontier America that didn’t come from a movie or TV show about the Wild West. So, Dean is just as legit as anything else in my memory banks. In fact, it fits very well, as there is a huge following in Germany for a writer, Karl May, who wrote about the wild western USA a century ago, tho he didn’t visit the country until near the end of his life. You’ll find Germans nowadays who, having read these books, move into teepees (I mean, permanently) and/or put on stage productions of stories from the books, and perform them in natural settings. HAMBURG, 11/19 In the morning, having finished the book I was reading (Noah Levine’s Dharma Punx), I stopped into the bookstore next to the East Seven hostel, and found they had a small section of English books. Mostly classics, and I was looking for something a bit meatier, more contemporary. Then I spied an unusual title, in between the Russian and Spanish language books: Kornwolf. The title could have been for a book in German, and the writer’s name on the spine was Egolf, also likely of German origin, but, I pulled it out anyway. Kornwolf? Surprisingly, it was a novel in English—and the writer, Tristan Egolf, was American. On the back cover the blurb compared him to George Saunders, one of my favorite authors (there’s a certain kind of deadpan humor, that you find in Saunders, Faulkner, Brautigan…that just resonates with me), so that sold me right there. I bought it and started to read it in the van on the drive to Hamburg. As it turns out, the book is fantastic, and stylistically right up my alley. I will have to pick up his other two books—I was crushed to find that Egolf killed himself in 2005; in fact, he was only three years younger than me. He lived in Paris for a while, and played in bands. Reading his work, I wish I could have known him. If anyone reading this did know him, please write me. I’d love to know more about him than I can get via Wikipedia. Hamburg was freezing when we arrived. We were early, and lucky to find someone was in the venue, someone who could call the promoter down. The Grüner Jäger is a musty old clubhouse in a park…sort of like a building you’d find in central park, that would be used for storing lawn mowers. But it’s very lovable, and despite its weird layout, it’s a great place for playing—I don’t think it would be pleasant to see a loud band here, but for our quiet show, it seems like it’s the best venue for our show…as I keep thinking this was the best show of the tour (unless Zürich tomorrow beats it!). The audience was very responsive, I’ll say that—and up til then we hadn’t seen a house quite so full. Sometimes, playing the kind of show I play, that’s so fragile, I just land on a night where everybody’s on the same wavelength—here, we all were. Monday nights are great for this show—everybody is mellow and sensitive, and all the drunks are sleeping it off somewhere else. So, the show went way into overtime, we weren’t allowed to stop playing—so, this show must have clocked in at somewhere within sight of the three hour mark. It goes fast the way we do it—in little alternating groups of songs by Subterfuge (with me playing guitar along) and by me. We eventually hit on groups of three being the magic number—enough time for each performer to get into it, but keeping the action moving. After the show I had a couple of drinks at tiny bar up the road, on the way to my accommodations—another hostel. I wasn’t in a hurry to get there. This particular establishment, according to the promoter, was created to give traveling artists an ultra affordable place to crash—backpacking troubadours and the like. For the astonishing rate of €15 per person. However, you get what you pay for, and it’s very basic. At first, they put us in one room with 5 beds. Still a shared bathroom in the hall. Hmmm. The band actually protested and insisted that the promoter pony up for my own room. Sure, he said, but it wasn’t sure there was another one available. He found one, but at the annex down the street. Fair enough. No radiator in my room, so it was a bit chilly…and in the morning, the tiny shower room ran out of hot water in roughly 40 seconds. Hmmm. The thing about hostels is, you don’t get a towel included. Why they assume backpackers would want to lug a wet towel across the globe is a mystery to me. It’s not much more work or expense to provide one when they already provide a sheet, pillowcase and duvet cover. I myself was employing the pillowcase as a towel, but due to the water situation, it never saw action. It’s always a shitty feeling when you have to go on the drive with the last night’s gig film coating you. Now, most hostels offer to rent you a towel (prices on this tour ran from 50 cents to one euro). But, there was no reception at this place, so nowhere to rent one. The owner comes to meet you with keys when you check in, and at that time, the promoter assured me that we could take the towels from the gig with us (there were none, so, in a kind of mime's logic, he was right). Anyway, I definitely respect the promoter keeping things affordable so the show could happen, 5 people could have a place to stay (within walking distance of the club, no less), and we could get paid decently even tho’ wehttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif’re not playing to big crowds. However, at that point, I think I would rather stay at someone’s house, where I’m sure to be able to borrow a towel, and they probably have an internet connection…but, Hamburg still wins as the best show of the tour so far, I think because we really clicked here and were up to speed, and there’s nothing like the first time! The preceding shows were great too, but we had enough experience by Hamburg to really take it to the proverbial next level. DUSSELDORF, 11/20 Here we split—after breakfasting in one of the famous Portuguese cafes of the district of Hamburg we stayed in—I went with Kai, Subterfuge’s bassist, in his car direct to Düsseldorf (I can’t write umlauts when it’s all caps, BTW). The other guys went to pick up our unbelievable new van—part of VW’s “ Sound Foundation” program—they lend, free of charge, a brand new VW Transporter to indie bands in Germany. There wasn’t one available for the first days of the tour, so here we were getting it for the last 2/3s of the trip—it easily accommodates the 5 musicians, our gear/merch/luggage, and Carsten, who became our merch guy and helper for the tour. It’s Carsten who introduced me to the music of Subterfuge and proposed this tour take place, and for that alone I can’t thank him enough. But, he’s a very easy guy to travel with: polite and helpful, and if you want to know anything about the German music scene—he knows it, having been a music journalist for as long as I can remember. He even tracked down some (I shouldn’t reveal this, but) cheap KS/Posies CDs and vinyls on Ebay in Germany, bought them, so I could buy them at cost from him and resell them as merch on tour! Now that’s thinking! In the meantime, Kai had some work to do. Kai is chttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifo-owner of Skyline mastering, and is the main engineer there. It’s housed in a tall skinny building that also hosts a film production co. and another small recording studio. At the top, next to the small recording studio is a shower etc, with a huge skylight. I went in, and surveyed the situation—including the Grandma glaring at me from her balcony next door. We sorted out a way to wedge a towel into the skylight (it is on the side of the room—you could call it a window, but it coats a wall that is angled in a pitch that places it somewhere between wall and roof—the grandma was looking down on me directly from her 4th floor balcony; I was on the third floor, hoping to disrobe unseen. It worked out—she did eventually go inside and the hanging towel did the best it could to protect my ‘modesty’. I emerged back on track, and as it turns out, I had the afternoon free to sit in an unused office, listen to music, get and receive calls (the building has a receptionist that works for all the companies inside) and use the internet. Ahh. The receptionist even brought me a macchiato. When the guys and the van showed up a few hours later, I was begging them to reconsider the necessity of a soundcheck. In their hometown. Cooler heads prevailed! I tried not to kick and scream too much. We loaded into the club, Pretty Vacant—upstairs a little mod bar, downstairs a brick bier bögen painted in lipstick red. It smelled oddly like a pet store, distinct odor of gerbil and wood shavings, down there. Well. As usual, we set up everywhere but the stage, distributing us around the architecture of the place in such a way that the public would be amongst us, and on at least 3 sides of us. Our set up on this tour is to almost any other band’s what 3-dimensional Star Trek chess is to regular, earthly chess. After soundcheck we stopped at a café for some further internet and macchiato fun (at this point in the tour, I’m having about 6 a day!). And then we went to a local bier hall for some real Düsseldorfer chow. My friend Cuca, who is from Spain but now lives with her German husband and their young son in Cologne, came up for dinner and to see the show. Cuca and I worked on some music a few years ago in a completely insane studio, owned by a freshly minted internet millionaire who lived on the other floors of the building—and was determined to share the wealth thru the magic of getting FUBAR with as many half-comatose flunkies and hangers-on as possible. The music is still pending release, but in fact Cuca is working with a label based in India, and is touring there next year. I might try and hop on the caravan if there’s room. Anyway, we had dinner with the band in this boisterous medieval times-like place (roasted goose for me!) and then immediately went onstage. Well—we walked back to the club, and I needed a café, so, being that the place was packed, I asked the owner if he could sneak back and get me one. It was impossible to get the attention of the bar staff. He went back (I watched the door for him) and returned with the worst possible answer this side of ‘no’: ‘Yes, it’s being made, just ask the bar staff for it.’ I told him my dilemma and he said, ‘ah, no worries, just go behind the bar and get it, it should be ready by the machine. So, I went back and promptly got chased out by the attitude-heavy bartender—and I didn’t get the café. Later, I finally got the attention of the other bartender, and got the café. Well. My revenge on the barmaid was taken by dedicating ‘Fireflies’ to her, and telling the story—and I know they could hear me from down there…anyway, the show went very well, and the place was packed…after another 2 hours of playing, it started to gravitate upwards to the bar, but about 60% of the people stayed to the end, three hours after we started…afterwards I had a birthday drink with the lovely Hammi, our friend from Cologne who used to live in Seattle—it had been his birthday the day before, and we had a drink, caught up, and then it was bedtime. REGENSBURG, 11/21 Long drive to Bavaria, but the aptly-named Transporter is capable of speeds on the autobahn that definitely give rise to the illusion that Scotty is at the controls. We got to town early, and headed to the Alte Mälzerei, where I had a great solo show last year, and a really fun Posies show (see ‘An Tour with the Posies’ on TMF Belgium) earlier the same year as well…run by the über cool indie vegan, Dieter, the reception at the Mälzerei is always warm. We had café upon arrival, and leisurely loaded in, and checked into the hostel-style rooms upstairs. We set up the show. We were served dinner in the dressing room, which is kind of a wall of shame for cheesy tour posters from unknown ghosts of yesteryear (with a couple of exceptions)…dinner was pasta which I don’t really eat but there was baby spinach salad and freshly roasted pine nuts…it was all I could do to not dump the bowl in my mouth…OK, on to the show, I saw many of my friends from the last show there…and we did our thing, and did it well. Upstairs in the main hall (our show was in the same submarine-themed bar I played last year) there was a kind of improv musicomedy night, for which a piano had been brought in, and thus, when it came time for the encore, I dragged everyone upstairs for a few songs at the piano (incl. “O-o-h Child”). Then back downstairs, and everybody wanted more stuff, at first I offered to just be a lounge singer, and play the Wurlizter and do covers (which I did…“Sister Golden Hair” incl.!). But then there were more requests…so I did some more songs, and then said good night—but there were more requests…so, back to the piano, for the last hardcore group (we’re talking 3 hours after I started…my lounge set was at least 40 minutes) of staff and fans. Then at last, downstairs, with our stuff all packed up, we busted out the acoustic guitar…Lars from Subterfuge and I did TFC’s “the Concept” and I finally shut ‘er down with a version of “Back to the Old House” by the Smiths. So, all the folks that were left went up to the dressing room for a last glass of wine, about 6-8 of us, and then I went to bed. I do believe people got their money’s worth on this one! Also notable: our collective encore of “Keep On Lovin’ You” by REO Speedwagon…I didn’t know people outside of the Tri-State area even knew that band existed…but the Subterfuge guys whipped it out! I also realized it’s essentially, in the verse, musically parallel to “Don’t You Want Me” by the Human League—big mistake, as I have been singing the REO song in my head but with the words “I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar…when I met you…” Try it. You’ll hate me in the morning. STUTTGART, 11/22 This show was just weird. The day started out fine—although the house iron at the Mälzerei was steam-disabled, and thus it took me a hell of a long time to get my outfit together. But we walked around the historic center of Regensburg, and took a long visit inside the Dom, which, I have to admit, is quite impressive. There was the requisite trip to the Würstkuchl for lunch (see the entry from last November’s Regensburg show for more details) and then we headed to Stuttgart. In my 2005 visits to this city, which were the first times I visited Stuttgart, we weren’t in the historic center, and this time, the venue was. The venue is a tiny jazz club called Kiste. And in fact, our show had fallen during the week of “Jazztage XL” which is a multi-venue jazz festival, in which Kiste plays a role. We’re in the posters for the event and everything. My indie rock friends from the region didn’t know this venue. So, it was a little meeting of worlds to have me play there. The old neighborhood on one side of a huge main road, where the club is, and the one on the other side, where we had dinner, is really straight out of a kind of German film noir…especially the red light district behind the club—vintage 1950s signage on tiny little streets. Anyway, the club is so tiny that it has a staff of exactly one person—and he didn’t really know what to expect, he didn’t get the memo. So, he was kind of freaking out, for no reason, really—we were happy to set up the PA and get things going, and even tho’ he had no knowledge of the deal, he ended up giving us a better deal (originally, we got, say, 60% of the door plus dinner—here, we got 100% of the door, but paid for our own dinner—no big deal, we definitely made money on that deal). Stuttgart has a reputation for being one of the un-rockin’-est cities in Germany, and I do believe it’s well earned. The Posies show in 2005 did rock, tho’, and was well-attended, and of course REM’s 2005 show was great. This show was simply plagued by weirdness and luna-tic behavior. The audience was motley enough—60-somethings who thought they were attending a jazz festival; a guy who looked like he had just quit Lenny Kravitz’s band, looking more and more bummed out the better his date got into the show; a couple of Asian guys who I am pretty sure were sent by their hotel for a night of jazz in Stuttgart; a few fans; a few friends of Subterfuge; and some friends of Carsten’s…including two guys who had been at my NYE show 2005 in Liechtenstein. Evidently, these guys had been at a seminar that afternoon that involved more than a little social drinking. So, one of them pissed, to the gills. And using a fresh-off-the-plane intern from Bulgaria in ways possibly not in the work contract. The thing is, he was the guy, that I love to have at my shows, especially the quiet ones, who is talking, full blast, in the front row. And of course the guy from the club was too timid to even speak to * us * the whole night, let alone silence a motormouthed drunk. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore…he kept asking, at like boat horn volume levels, if I remembered Liechtenstein. Well, yes, I did, and after being asked 500 times I was over it. So, I got off the stage, and in a very kind manner told him he was talking too loud and too much. I assumed, incorrectly that the 6 foot tall woman beside him was his g.f., and thus in a position of authority to gag him. But, she wasn’t, and in fact, I believe she was a) overwhelmed by the situation, and not really knowing how to deal with it, and b) equally hammered, just able to hold her liquor, and her tongue. Well, it didn’t matter, his friends eventually moved him to the back, and he calmed down a bit. The show * eventually * got good…but I wouldn’t call it an extraordinary example of our craft…I was just too…distracted to really get into it for the whole time I was dealing with Drunk Dude. But, people did enjoy it, and eventually, I did too. I did meet one Robbie Stringfellow, originally from Christchurch, who has a blues/rock group in Germany called Stringfellow. We met on myspace…nice fella! And one of the Drunk Dude’s (male) colleagues was from Bulgaria, and we are working on a way to hook me up with some shows…hope for the best on that one. No need to say, with this club being as tiny as it was, we had to set up on the stage itself. Boring! There was a piano tho—the 4th venue of the tour with a real piano…when does that ever happen? The tiny club enabled me, when I hopped off the stage to go remote, to actually get out the front door with my cables… VIENNA, 11/23 You can’t beat Viennhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifa for a great KS show. Once again, no exception this night. Once again, the show was at the B72. Once again, I had a great (enormous) room at the Hotel Fürstenhof, the family-run establishment across from the Westbahnof, with fantastic 70s décor. Old world charm indeed! I love this hotel, I really do. My room smelled di-stink-tly of smoke, and I am one of those freaks who love the smell of smoke. So, I was happy. Between the look of central Stuttgart and this hotel, I was in an endless Teutonic episode of ‘ Macmillan and Wife’. Anyway, we got down to business, and Vienna is always full of KS business. We set up and soundchecked at the B72. Being old pros, they took tons of extra care to really work with our insane, not-on-the-stage-but-in-the-middle-of-the-floor setup, resetting the lights, and putting down white tape around our zones. Cool! Then we went to dinner, in a very typical Austrian diner, with décor unchanged for sure since the Beatles were a 5-piece. I had veal intestines with a knödl, aka a big ball of bread. My friend Tina, from NYC, was in town—she wasn’t able to come to the show, but she joined us for dinner. Tina works for a big rekkid label, and last time the Posies played, she was out of town and FedExed me her keys, thus I had my own flat in NY! My friend Robert (who had also been in Hamburg, as he has a band there) put on the show, much like he did my first solo show there, early last year. In a way, the success of that show and the connection I made with audience has really set in motion all the great things that have happened to me in Austria since then, and thus I owe him a big debt, really. His label, Siluh Records, is supposed to put out my covers EP (it’s just that the guy with the master tapes, from the Norwegian label that proposed the idea, has disappeared!! No joke!) in the German-speaking countries. I guess I’ll have to make another tour later…with pleasure! Anyway, Robert is an actor as well as musician, and despite the fact that I believe he’s quite successful in Germany and beyond (I haven’t seen one of his films yet, but I guess he’s very good at what he does!) in music mode he is 100% indie rock guy; in other words, he really has his shit together, and is genuinely helpful to the music scene—he’s not looking for cred, he’s just…doing stuff. We need a few more like him! So, one of Siluh’s bands (the label is co-run by the lovely Bernhard as well) caught my attention— A Life, A Song, A Cigarette—and even tho’ they are too popular to be opening for the likes of me, they agreed to appear at my request in a skeleton-crew fashion—normally a 6-piece band, they arrived as guitar/vocalist, cellist, and drummer (under the name Leroy Simmering and the Sinking Ship Friends!). The cellist is incredible—great parts, perfect intonation, able to hang in the rock mode, fantastic. So, they proposed I do a song with them, and that song was proposed to be “Love Hurts”, in the manner of Gram and Emmylou. They provided a lyric sheet, and off we went. But, first…I told them to delay the start of the set (we had their set, my two hour show, and the inevitable encore to attend to by midnight, as B72 becomes an indie rock dance club on weekend nights) until I could get back from taping a small video performance for a video blog; me, playing two songs, in various deserted Vienna neighborhoods. So it was like: soundcheck, run to the restaurant to order my veal guts, run back (300 meters each way) to B72 to soundcheck with ALASAC/2, run back, eat, run back, meet up with video crew, run to the location (another 300m) tape the two performances, run back, and bless their hearts they waited to go on, even tho’ everybody knew it would be a stress at the end to get everything done under the wire of the curfew. And they were great. We did “Love Hurts”, and it was really sweet. Hugs all around, and then, we got on with it, and the way our set up worked, we interlocked with the crowd perfectly. B72 was plenty crowded, and the audience knew to keep quiet (unf. people in the balcony never pick up their chairs, thus…SKRONNK SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEK every 5 minutes, it’s been true all 3 of my shows there). I risked life and limb to deliver “Don’t Break the Silence” from a position of standing on the bar, which means I can barely stand up straight, only if I go out to the absolute corner of the bar, which juts out further than the balcony’s overhang. From this unique position, I could serenade the balcony almost at eye level, go down and sing to the crowd on the floor, and also the crowd seated on the unused stage. I felt like one of those split-eyed archer fish, and I did indeed manage to hit my targets. The set was great, and the crowd dug it, but they demanded WAY more—I looked to the sound/light guys, who shrugged in encouragement. Curfew be damned! I know I did “You Drew” and I can’t for the life of me remember what else. Eventually I called it a night, and people cheered way after I left the stage—everybody loves a good curfew-defy-er! I hung with various friends, fans, etc—the people who own the the place are super friendly; there was the contingent from Bratislava, who are really nice people (and I finally figured out that two of them are twins, I thought it was one person with two different myspace profiles!! Idiot! when they wrote me asking about ticket info and other stuff). We all headed over to a squat bar, yet another movie set-worthy locale, for another drink, I was starting to crash so I skedaddled after that one drink. WINTERTHUR, 11/24 The longest drive of the tour—some 8 hours, but it really wasn’t so bad in the end. I slept, I devoured (haha!) Tristan Egolf’s werewolf story, tried to enjoy every rest stop to the max (I have really warmed to the idea of Sanifair: clean toilets, and foamy soap, and you actually get your money back, as opposed to the pay-to-play German toilets you find elsewhere). Anyway, we rolled into town, and checked into our bizarre little concrete hotel (friendly, but broken phones—I couldn’t get a call placed to my room and I couldn’t call the front desk). Carsten said it looked like a Guatemalan prison, on the outside…inside it was basic but cool 70s flavor for the hallway décor…I was looking at my front door for several minutes before I realized what it was I was looking at. They had this double key system…you are given an ordinary set of two keys when you check in, which serve as your key to the front door and your access key…which you plug into a wall panel in the lobby to release your room key, a standard large fobbed item. I felt like I was emptying the contents of my Swiss bank account, or that if two of us did it at the same time, we’d launch the missles. Then we went to the Salzhaus (‘where’s Sal”?) to load in. This place has its shit TOGETHER with a capital ‘T’. Unbelieveable—loaders, food and beverages already in the backstage room (including still hot spinach pastries and huge, gooey dates—I felt like a Turkish pasha!). Ethernet connection? No problem. Myléne, who was doing sound that night, was superb to work with and gave us a copy of her recording of the show afterwards. We had a lot of space to work with, and the rest of the folks had numerous sofas, the stage, the bar and floor space to work with—and that’s only * half * of the club—they curtain off the back half until the disco gets started. They cooked us a fabulous dinner, and just took care of us from beginning to end. And the Swiss audience…they know how to be quiet. Damn! I told them “it’s like playing to a roomful of Japanese librarians on Valium!”…this is a * good * thing in KS land BTW. So, naturally, we played great, feeling as good as we did, and the peeps loved it. The place filled up as we went on, and it never got any louder. Again, we had a disco curfew, but they let us play some encore songs since people were so into it. But it was still done by 22.15, and thus we could hang out, use the net, eat dates, and chill with the locals. Lorenz from STFG was getting killed by the flu, tho—he immediately went to sleep on the couch after the set. The rest of us stuck around, until my eyelids started to droop. So, we went back to the little Guatemalan prison, and I slept the sleep of the…guy who’s been on tour a lot. ZURICH, 11/25 Bells woke me up the next morning. Then my alarm. The guys actually went and loaded up without me—bless ‘em. We drove into Zurich, which is just a half an hour down the road, and went to the train station to get Kai sorted out—he had to leave us this afternoon. We parked ourselves at the Hiltl, an incredible, multi-level vegetarian buffet restaurant/electro music venue/café and did our official tour biz—money and stuff, over delicious plates of cruelty-free cuisine. Then we checked into the Etap hotel, yes, it’s one of those ‘nothing but the very basic-est’ Euro Motel 6 equivalents. Lorenz and I had come to the same conclusions—the one-piece beige toilet and its surrounding cell looked like what we imagined the loo on the Millennium Falcon to be like…but, hey. I spent the afternoon there (in the hotel, that is…) and we loaded into the Hafekneipe. Which means ‘Harbor Bar’ in Swiss German--You always want what you can’t have!! Also, it’s really tiny, 100 people max. So, I’ll be making jokes like: “so, here we have Hafekneipe—next time, I’ll order a whole one!!” But, you gotta love any bar with a dedicated nautical theme (think my favorite hellhole in Seattle, the Baranoff). For the last show, minus Kai, I was in charge of playing bass for all of Stfg’s stuff… OK, stop the presses! I was writing this up until it was time for us to soundcheck, and now I can safely, from the comfort of my bizarre-ly colored room at the Etap Hotel, say that this was really the best show of the tour…I was so into it…and the audience was superb…it was a great way to go out. We played our little hearts out. And there’s nothing like the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pantalons style of show…which means for me, I was playing bass for Subterfuge's whole set…hey, it was great! I can’t say anything bad about this show—the club people were superb, the audience was too, and we were totally on it! In our quiet way. Nice encore, and everybody’s happy! I really felt like this show was special…and it’s perhaps the best played show of the tour. OK…plus, we got to hang with Marc Bernegger, who we’ve worked with from a label and management point of view in the Posies, and is just a great guy. Yes!!! This was an amazing tour, and I realized that I like touring now even more than I ever have…it feels good when you have your personal/spiritual/mental/emotional shit together--you can be of more use to more people, and enjoy the moment so much more; and the little things don't make your ears steam. I bade goodbye to Subterfuge and Carsten this morning, and since then have been camped in the bar at the Novotel next to the Etap, sipping Perrier and having a steak tartare. I can't thank the Subterfuge lads enough for making this such a great experience and for taking such good care of me. Best secret to survival of the tour: the Transporter had heated seats (but no CD player...then again, no one had to listen to the demos I was handed on the tour) Best example of KS' wild luck: I grabbed some flyers from the Grüner Jäger; I always take souvenirs of the tour adverts, posters etc. Later, someone in the band gave me a tiny Kinder chocolate egg. I forgot about it. The next morning I was searching my pocket for something--this would be the inside pocket of my beloved grey herringbone coat--and found to my horror that the egg had melted. But, it had merely leaked onto the the club flyers I had put in there, having fallen between two of them--all the chocolate could be lifted out out and disposed of, no sticky remains in my coat pocket whatsoever! This week, it's time for the Posies acoustic shows in Helsinki, London, Toulouse, Paris and Oslo...I'll be home for less than 12 hours! see you out there? Love KS Zürich, SWITZERLAND
11.18.2007
(I know it's obvious): B-R-R-R-R-R-LIN AND BEFORE My time home was brief as usual…enjoyable, always, but packed with activities that I can’t attend to on tour. I worked on my rental flat, which has been a big job to have brought up to date…working on it when I’m home is akin to carving a statue in marble, and every month or so chipping away at it for an hour or two. But, at long last, it’s almost ready to go. Of course, ‘almost’ is a state that can be divided in half an infinite number of times… On Monday, all 3 Stringfellows attended a pleasantly boisterous dinner at La Maroquinerie (excellent music venue, where the Posies played in 2005) with all the cast and crew from the Cali record; Scott Colburn and his wife Jay; many of the musicians (the drummer from French legends Telephone, e.g.), and etc. Aden entertained, then crashed. I drank too much (which these days means 4 glasses of wine) but had a great time. Cali is an extremely kind and humble soul. Tuesday was the beginning of the transportation strike in Paris—that still continues as I write. I myself was stuck in it—I was at a doctor’s appt., and the usual bus I would take home simply stopped running—a few hours before the strike was supposed to begin. It’s quite hard to tell the difference between a bus being late and a bus line not running at all—so I waited, with everyone else, for awhile, then went ahead to another bus stop—some of them have LCD signs that tell you when the next bus is coming, and for line 76 they just said ‘no service on this line’. So, I ran to the nearest metro, which goes to Bastille, and ran to Aden’s school—I was supposed to pick her up at 4.30, and since I wasted some time waiting for the bus, and the metro doesn’t get me that close, I was almost 10 minutes late. But she had been put with the kind of day care they have when school ends, and her best friend was there, so she was OK. Other than that, I don’t rely on the bus or metro or SNCF that much. I get to the airport by a shared van service I book online—but that is subject to the insane traffic jams that the strike has produced, with thousands more cars than usual on the streets of Paris. So, what would have taken us 45 minutes on a normal day took us almost 2 hours on Wednesday night, but, it had been planned for in the timing, even tho’ I booked it a few weeks ago. Tuesday night I had another appointment in the evening, and was perhaps going to meet Scott and Jay for another dinner before they left town. I came out of the appointment, about a 20-minute walk from my place, into a total downpour—and there had been no sign of rain when I left home 90 minutes earlier. So, I got home, completely drenched—I couldn’t even see after about 10 minutes of walking as my glasses were also completely splattered—and freezing—so cold I was starting to feel oddly warm, which easily could mean hypothermia—and I got myself into a bath, and since everyone was stranded (cabs are impossible to find during the strikes as demand goes up tenfold) we just called it a night. Wednesday I got out of Dodge—I flew to Cologne and was met by Thomas from Subterfuge, and we went to his home in Düsseldorf. He and his wife have a beautiful little flat, I felt very at home there. And tired—getting up at 7am every day to get Aden to school takes its toll, esp. when it resumes immediately after a week of 12-19 hour long studio days, itself coming immediately after an all night travel day and a week of intensely thrash-eriffic Posies shows. But, having breakfast the next morning, I felt more than OK, Thomas had scored some excellent mehrkorn brötchen, and we enjoyed the fruits of his dacha—he has a little garden in the suburbs, and from it he produced, among other things, a jam of strawberries and elder flowers. Before bed on the arrival night I ate some of his walnuts, he said it was a huge haul this year, and that traditionally implies a cold winter is coming. Thursday we settled into the Stattwerk Studios, and used this nice recording facility that Subterfuge is well acquainted with to rehearse our set. They had chosen the song list of what they felt inspired to learn of mine, a selection of songs from my last two records, plus a couple of Big Star songs, ‘Solar Sister’ by the Posies, and ‘Don’t Break the Silence’ from the Jon Auer & Ken Stringfellow split EP that came out in 2003 on Arena Rock. Their drummer wasn’t coming along for the tour, and we worked out a kind of ultimate slo-core vibe for the songs: ‘Solar Sister’ sounds like a kind of Leonard Cohen song now…they learned the stuff in the keys that are represented on the record—I generally play the stuff a couple of steps higher live, so now ‘Je Vous En Prie’ is baritone-ing into Lizard King territory…we also worked up a cover of Todd Rundgren’s ‘Dust in the Wind’, that, being a kind of self-pitying attempt at apologizing for being a weak and needy, is a perfect kind of ‘look at where I’m not anymore’ kind of reflection at my life. Anyway, we worked up some very different kinds of arrangements and sounds for this show, and then I dusted off my curveball and taught them one of my new songs, too. They guys in Subterfuge—the aforementioned Thomas, who plays guitar and sings; Lorenz, who plays keys, bass and sings; Lars, who plays guitar, banjo, bass and sings are really flexible musically and easy to get along with. There’s also Kai, who didn’t rehearse with us, but is actually Subterfuge’s bass player (and an excellent recording engineer). He’s on the tour, however, playing bass for the Subterfuge songs, and then joining in on percussion and glockenspiel for my songs. I am going between guitar, keyboards, and bass as well. The sets have been made, so far, to just move around amongst the Subterfuge songs and my stuff, in any particular order. During the Subterfuge songs, I have been playing piano the last two nights, as both of the first two venues on this tour have had pianos in house. SCHWERIN, 11/16 We picked the gear up in the morning at the studio, and divided it up between the two Opel hatchbacks we're touring in, and hit the road for the Mecklenburg region of Germany, in the northwest corner of the former east. Schwerin is beautiful little town, situated next to a huge and dramatic lake that leads to the sea just a bit north, via a river/canal. On an island just off the shore of the lake, sits Schwerin Castle, which has a long, and fairly unfortunate history. Much of the 21,000 sq. meter building has been restored, and is open to the public. Part of the building is used as the meeting place for the local government, the rough equivalent of a state congress. From the entrance, the castle looks like it was entirely built in the 1850s. But, upon closer inspection, you can find parts of the older incarnations underneath; some gothic parts, some brick facades from the 17th century, etc. The first fortress on the island was a wooden stockade built by the Slavic tribes who used to inhabit the area. When the Germanic people attacked in the 10th century, the Slavs burned their own fortress and fled, in the face of a much larger force. Then more structures were built, and occasionally abandoned as the regional capital shifted between Schwerin and Lugwigslust. The castle was occupied by invading Swedes at one point. In 1913 it burned, and the Duke himself abdicated in 1918, thus it took much of the century for restoration to take place. Still, it had an active life, as a hospital in WWII, and a college during the communist years. It’s supposed to be inhabited by a ghost, a dwarf named Petermännchen, who harasses trespassers, and plays tricks on guests and residents. The center of Schwerin is quite lovely—the lake extends several lobes into the town, and thus you are always alongside the water; also, there is a large reservoir smack in the middle of the town, in the night it’s a perfect oval of black, reflecting the evenly spaced streetlights and huge chestnut trees that circle it. There’s an odd castle-like structure right on the reservoir, I don’t know what it is exactly—it feels like an armory, perhaps…with a Moorish motif (that you will also find, oddly, in parts of Schwerin Castle). There were no signs on the building to say what it is or was, but there is a plaque on it that states a short poem on freedom, dedicated when the fall fell in 1989. The venue, Speicher is a nicely-sized hall, holding perhaps 300 people if full…steps lead up to the bar level which is filled with fanciful metal and wooden furniture for lounging. My favorite was a huge banana-shaped bench, carved from a solid piece of wood, in the image of a whale. We had decided to set up our stuff on the floor of the club to be amongst the people, instead of on the stage, and it worked out great—except the audience was very small, and all of them sat on the big steps leading up to the bar. They were comfortable, I was comfortable, and so it all worked out just fine. For the encore, I had many of them come and get on the stage, and I played a couple of songs on the piano. The show is mellow compared to even the intensity of a KS solo show, but I find it appropriate, and it matches the gentleness of Subterfuge’s songs. I drew some comparisons between Subterfuge and the Scud Mountain Boys, so, essentially the evening sounds like me backed by a drummerless Pernice Brothers. Sounds great, don’t you think? Of course, you forget how intense the situation was in the former eastern bloc, now that everybody in Germany is supposedly just German (you still find westerners who exhibit a kind of prejudice against easterners for being backwards, unable to work hard, etc) but there were some older folks there who told me about the change that came in 1989, when they were allowed to travel abroad for the first time, etc. KIEL, 11.17 We spent the morning checking out the castle, and then drove to Kiel. Upon arrival, we went to our accommodations—a backpackers hostel, but in a high-rise apartment block in a kind of obscure neighborhood on the edge of the city. When we arrived, there was a sign that said ‘back at 4’ so we went to have a café to kill some time. The band had suggested McDrive, and I firmly vetoed. So we went in to the nearest neighborhood. The first bar was closed in anticipation of a private event that night. We passed a few kebab shops, and then came across the Crazy Inn. A totally odd little neighborhood bar with the atmosphere sort of like a waiting room at a doctor’s office—white walls, IKEA furniture, a few easy-to-grow houseplants. A bit sunnier than your average bar. The bar itself was really small, just big enough for two customers to sit side by side. It was on a higher level than the two tables (that were candlelit, in a bizarrely homey touch in contrast to the gambling machine and automated dartboards that dominated two of the walls. There were two, later four, other customers there when we arrived (“Sind Sie Ekonomische Studenten?”, they asked when we arrived!). I don’t know what they were drinking, but we ordered coffee, and the guy behind the bar said it would take a few minutes for him to brew it. We watched the regulars throw darts, laugh, etc. It was impossible for the place to be seedy, clean and well lit as it was, and in fact everybody was quite friendly, if a bit perplexed at our presence—I got the feeling they had the same 4 customers every day! We went back to the BekPek place, and got our keys, and the bedding (DIY!). Then we went in search of Prinz Willy. Prinz Willy is a local artist, involved in many projects, and he started this eponymously-named small, lovely bar/café/venue three years ago—he says the incoming people and artists give him inspiration for his own work. The atmosphere is perfect—stylish, a bit 60s, very friendly. His dog, and sometimes cat, are around. There are cakes baked by his mom, and a small menu of salads and sandwiches. Beer, wine and liquor. A tiny stage, with a piano. The place is very inviting, and the crowd was quite diverse throughout the course of the evening—a couple in their 60s, young hipsters, a couple of oceanographic scientists, two street drunks who came in during the soundcheck, and were very nice—they loved the Todd Rundgren cover. I only said they were street drunks as that’s how they basically described themselves…they were pretty disheveled, a bit wild eyed, but very gentle in fact. Willy fed us, tea and cake before soundcheck, and our choice from his menu afterwards. Francoise Hardy played from his Itunes. I had my own Ethernet connection backstage, and the tables filled up with a small but extremely attentive and friendly crowd. Subterfuge and I alternated songs for the set list, which worked well enough I might just stick to that for the rest of tour. But, no rules of course! We were set up in front of the stage, except Kai played from the stage, and the piano was there. I am really coming from a different place on this tour, it’s kind of a pain-free performance, no tortured stuff at all, just simple, extremely quiet, beauty. Most of the time I don’t use a mic and if I do it’s barely turned up. I wander around in the crowd, like a KS solo show, and the guys follow as their set ups allow. Really nice shows, and everyone’s happy at the end. After the show, I chatted with the oceanographic scientists (there are a lot of them in Kiel), and we went back to the hostel. In the morning, we went to the old Olympic city—housing and facilities built for the rowing etc. events for the 1972 Olympics. None of us could say for sure if sailing was an Olympic sport…but there was a large harbor for small sailing vessels, with way more moorages than boats. There were kind of two harbors there, the Olympic one, and the local yacht club, with a small stretch of beach in between. We traversed all of the waterfront there; the water was cold and crystal clear. In general it’s pretty cold in November on the Baltic (not as cold as it is here in Berlin, tho’!), but it was great to be out on the seaside for a bit. We looked at a half dozen fishing boats that had pulled up and were offering sole and cod, cleaning the fish on board—ducks, seagulls and a swan were begging for the bits. We then went in to Alexy’s café, which was mostly populated by people in their 70s, seafaring types and their families, playing cards, and having brunch. The specialty is a piece of black bread with a large pickled herring on it, delicious—I had ordered a bit of smoked salmon, but realized the error of my ways, I should have gone for the local flavor. The other brunch favorite was the same black bread, with an omelet on top, and a pile of tiny shrimp on top of that. We went back to pick up the gear at Prinz Willy (in general, we leave the gear in each club overnight and pick it up in the morning, it’s the safest option—it just takes someone from the club who’s willing to be there or has to be there in the morning. Willy was going to be cleaning up anyway, and he was still working when we pulled up a little later than we said we would…he was totally unfazed, smiling (which he does pretty much all the time!) and helped us load out. Then he gave us the cakes from Saturday! He gets new ones each day. Amazing! I will keep that place on my list of favorites. I was sound asleep when we arrived at the hotel in Berlin, another hostel. A bit more deluxe than the one in Kiel, but the same premise. You make your own bed, you rent a towel if you didn’t bring your own, there’s a bathroom on each floor that everyone shares, no TV, no phone. You bring your own food and cook in the kitchen, marking your stuff in the fridge. The East Seven here in Berlin has a nice lounge with free wifi, and is just a little more stylish then the BekPek place in Kiel. Both were friendly tho’, and that counts for something, eh? We got our keys and then drove around the corner to the Bassy Cowboy Club, which is a very industrial space (the owners said it was an old bank, but what a gothic bank it must have been! It seemed more like an old garage or small machine shop) that’s been gussied up with 60s surf record covers, cowboy paraphernalia, and other fun stuff. It’s actually beautiful. It’s full of nooks and crannies and just beat up enough to make you feel at home. From one alcove that hides a little love seat, a huge wall size photo of Saddam Hussein, looking oddly like a 70s promo photo for a pop singer, grins out at you. The place is full of bizarre twists like that. A screen was showing a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western…and when they turned the house lights out…wow, it looks so cool. We set up in a circle in the middle of the floor, right where the audience would stand, and it looks great. We are pretty much using the stage in each venue as a place to store our cases. As I finish this, we are having dinner at Monsieur Vuong, an unbelievably good Vietnamese restauranthttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif. The food was so good I didn’t want to finish my dinner…I wanted to have a little left to pick at…forever. And they made a perfect macchiato. Highly recommended! Love KS Berlin
11.12.2007
 REM's new "Live" package, with 2 CDs and a DVD, has been released by Warner Music this fall--the footage and audio are taken from a two night stand at the Point in Dublin, the last two nights of our winter 2005 European tour. I just got my copy (somebody in our near our building poached the Fed Ex of the first attempted delivery!) in the mail and I checked out it--it's a great document of the band live, really interesting visuals (courtesy of director Blue Leach--and captured in part by my man Jon Shrimpton on the camera) and the audio is top notch (haha that's an audio joke). It was mixed by our live sound engineer, Brett Eliason, who mixed all the Pearl Jam live CDs, and also mixed the album versions of "Please Return It" and "Ontario" for the Posies. I'm in there now and again...and you can really hear my barroom piano stylings on "Rockville" and "Man on the Moon"...we were deep in the tour at that point and playing in a totally confident manner--everything is brisk, but relaxed as well..."in the pocket" is the term you can use (if you must!). Available at the usual outlets worldwide, j'imagine. Love KS Paris
11.11.2007
I just put up over 25 new photos in the photos section--shots of the Disciplines' recent shows, the Posies tour in Spain, and some older things I found recently...lookie. My week continued in the studio with Palace of Sin. I think the stuff has turned out really good, I usually cringe over some details when I finish a project, and I'm filled with all the thoughts of what I wish I'd done better. But other than making the tom fills a little too loud for my tastes in one song, I'm basically 100% happy with the results. One song sounds uncannily like Bill Fay...and the influences of Van Morrison, Grant Lee Buffalo, etc are readily apparent. As usual, the last night in the studio was a marathon, 19 hours of mixing and editing. I was extremely well taken care of during these days--the first days I stayed with the bass player, Eric, and his family; the last few days I stayed with Dominique, the drummer, and his family. Both sets of people were extremely hospitable--every night, after the 40 minute drive back to Toulouse, they made sure I had something to eat--to the extent that Dominique actually cooked for me when we came back at 5 yesterday morning! Incredible people, and I have nothing but gratitude for all their kindness. They wouldn't let me pay for anything--I wasn't allowed to pay for groceries, I had to fight to pay for the morning cafe...and when my USB key died, the Baldinis had one gift wrapped and waiting on the dining room table when I got back from the studio. So, in fact, it was a highly enjoyable experience, even with the hard/long work involved (actually, it's a pleasure for me to spend time making things sound great, attending to hundreds of tiny details--how loud a particular tambourine hit is, doing little vocal edits and smoothing out the attack of individual "t" and "c" sounds...I sort have to be torn away from the computer at the day's end...I only left these nights as the studio was in the owner's house, and I didn't want to to make the guys stay up til 5 am every night to take me back to Toulouse...but, honestly, when I'm working, I could sleep on the couch at the studio and work around the clock--I did this when I was mixing Minky Starshine and the New Cardinals last summer. And it was great. The studio is dark, quiet (I don't listen very loud when I'm mixing and editing) and warm. And, especially when I am left to work on my own with no one around, I just get deeply into the work and the hours fly by. And the days...suddenly I was flying back to Paris, to be reunited with Dom; we a enjoyed an evening together, and today went to pick up Aden, who had been visiting with her grandparents in Tours. Lastly, I send out my Veteran's Day admiration and love to my stepdad, Dewey Huston, who fought in the US Army in France and Germany in WWII, and in doing so contributed to the liberation of my country of residence...imagine the alternative. Dewey enlisted straight upon graduating high school, trained and arrived in time to participate in the Battle of the Bulge. I had a taxi driver in Paris who was from a village called Bonnet, and whose mother and father were moments from being executed for petty material aid to the resistance when the US Forces arrived and disrupted the proceedings. Is there anything to say other than thank you? Love KS Paris
11.05.2007
Check out the CosmopolitANTs, from Barcelona, new album, wearenotsocool, which I recorded and mixed, and played on. You can check it out here
LOGROÑO, 10/28 Now, we know enough about wine and geography to understand Logroño is the business epicenter of Rioja, and in fact it shines with wine wealth, a kind of oasis in the middle of what is generally kind of barren country. If it weren’t for vines, the area would resemble other areas of north central Spain, like Zaragoza—essentially the same as the western USA; hence all the spaghetti western filming locations. At many points in our drives, I kept expecting to see the choppers from M*A*S*H come over the hills, if that gives you a visual. As we drove into the city, we had a good feeling about the place. It’s relatively small, but it isn’t as dusty, and it’s much more lively, than many a northern Spanish town of similar population. Our first impression was not wrong. We completely fell in love with the town, and the people we met there. We were incredibly well taken care of the whole time we were there—the promoter gave us half a case of very decent Rioja, we had single rooms in a 4 star hotel (this really helps), we felt like we had made friends straight away. Our dinner that night was at a place whose name I think translates into something like “grill everything”. I had a steak so tender I could rest my knife on it, and the weight of my hand would make it cut the meat. And of course, the meal was well supplied with wine. The club, 7 Monos (7 Monkeys), was a new establishment, in retro hipster brown and orange (but with green lighting—yes, it actually worked all together). The stage had alcoves in the back where we could fit our amps, and a kind of glass tube that you could walk from the backstage to the stage through. Like, an episode of ‘ Rhoda’ meets ‘2001’. Great! Better still that the place was packed, and we played a ripping show. There’s no way we were going to let our hosts down! After the show, we cooled off and went to a bar across the street from our hotel and never paid for a drink, until something like 3am—I never had an empty wineglass in my hand. They even gave us the club's roll of gaffer tape--no small thing as this stuff is really expensive and hard to find in Europe. I spent time with our promoters, plus local musicians, artists, etc. As usual on this tour, the night ended with just the Posies, in one of our hotel rooms, having a last glass of wine and enjoying each other’s company. This town really made an impression on us, and we/I will surely be back. View photos here. MURCIA, 10/29 Another first for the Posies. I had stayed here with REM a couple of years ago when we played a nearby city, but I’ve never played music in Murcia. I knew it as the hometown of Ross, whose album I produced in 1995 (in fact, it was the first thing I ever engineered—lucky him!). Of course, Ross and his lovely wife Merche were at the show tonight. OK, so it was Monday night but my word, this place was jammed to the gills. People were going nuts. Where have these last two towns and their audiences been all my life?? I mean, we’ve toured Spain how many times? Well, I’m just glad we had things left to discover in Spain, and so pleasantly. During this show, it became my birthday, and I was toasted on stage. After the show, we had a nice get together in my room—the four Posies, our tour manager Aritz, and some of the wine from Rioja, another fan donated bottle, and the wine from the backstage. We had spent some time after the show at the club socializing, but usually I have so much to do—sell, count, and pack up the CDs; pack up my gear, and sometimes, like tonight, interviews—by the time I’m done, everybody’s gone home. The lights were on, and a few folks wanted to go to another bar, but I thought the best place for me to land would be my room, with my 3 long time friends and one new one, and some green glass filed with red liquid. Good call. MADRID, 10/30 But not wake up call. It was 12.15 when I woke up! I had time to quickly get ready and get down to the van. We completed our morning ritual—go to the club and load the gear, as it’s safer to leave it in the club overnight than in the back of the van—and drove to Madrid. I was still pretty tired, as my birthday party lasted til about 6! So I slept the whole way to Madrid. I actually have a hard time staying awake in a moving vehicle, esp. when the sun is shining thru the windshield on me, I become like one of those cats that spends all day in a sunbeam on the floor. I perked up when we got to Madrid, as I was very excited to see Dominique, who flew in for my birthday. Of course, with the complicated overlay of streets, overpasses, and tunnels in the part of Madrid we were trying to navigate, our GPS was pretty much useless and it took forever to get to the club. But we made it, and Dominique, Darius’ g.f. Christine, and our friend Juanita from Seattle all came down to the club. The club itself, Gruta 77, is a black box on an obscure corner of what is not reputed to be a very nice neighborhood. It has an extremely small and extremely high stage, a tiny backstage, and a very large man who can deadlift just about anything onto that high stage (this would mean for me lifting a Fender Twin over my head, and he can do it). We did our best to hurry thru soundcheck, but we were hampered by the fact that somehow, Jon’s bag of guitar pedals and cables had been left in Murcia. So, we had to seek some equipment from around town, and let Jon get his rig sorted. After an eternity, soundcheck commenced and quickly finished. Now, a month before, I had made arrangements to dine at La Broche, the signature restaurant of Sergi Arola, the brilliant and innovative chef originally from Barcelona, who now has several restaurants around Spain. I met Sergi a few years ago when he hosted a private dinner for REM at La Broche, and saw him later at various REM shows—and found out he is also a Posies fan (Sergi used to play in a band back in the day, also). I’ve spent quite a bit of time in his restaurant in Barcelona (see last week’s Barcelona entry, and also the entry describing my show there this summer). Anyway, he’s a great person, and I have become great friends with his brother Nacho, staying at his place in BCN on numerous occasions, and his brother Eddie too. I couldn’t imagine a better venue for my birthday dinner. Originally we had a night off scheduled on the Monday, but we were offered the show in Murcia and were happy to play, knowing this was our main purpose for being in Spain, and also knowing it would help cover the costs for our promoter (we were paid a flat fee for the tour). So, I booked dinner for the time between soundcheck and show and figured it would work out just fine. After soundcheck, we asked the club to call us two cabs to go to the restaurant. We told them where we were going, and that we might be late for the posted stage time of 11pm (I had cleared the dinner plan with the promoters weeks in advance). They said it was no problemo. Literally! Darius, Christine, Jaunita, Matt, Dominique and myself headed off. Jon had decided not to go so he could go to the hotel and get cleaned up for the show. Aritz needed to stay to keep things organized but also he wasn’t really going to be spending €100-plus on dinner. It took a little longer to get to the restaurant than we estimated—we left the club at 8.50, and arrived at about 9.20. We were greeted by Sergi’s extremely elegant wife, who runs the service of the restaurant—she and Sergi are probably the thinnest, healthiest looking restaurateurs I have ever heard of. The restaurant is a white box (incredible contrast to the black box of Gruta 77), the light is brighter than average, but it has an effect of intensifying the meal experience—you have no distractions from the tastes you are experiencing—nobody comes to your table playing the violin. We were seated at a round table in the corner, which was perfect. The ladies were given small folding tables for their handbags. It’s certainly true that every second of the experience at La Broche is perfectly timed, and every minute detail is attended to and anticipated. It’s an absolutely virtuosic exercise in concept, execution, presentation and accommodation. The menus are small booklets inhabiting slots in a small box by each place. We were looking at a la carte choices when we were told that Sergi had a special menu for us in mind. How could we say no? We mentioned we had a show that night (I had heard that the running time of a meal there was quite long, and honestly, I could have spent an entire evening there without hesitation) and that we should be on the road by 11-11.30. They understood. And the courses started to arrive. I have a menu from the evening, and I could scan it and put it online, but could I describe the effects? I don’t think so. We had to leave before the meat courses, but honestly, we were completely full and satisfied, and the odd thing is, we didn’t eat a lot in terms of mass. But the flavors were so dense, and penetrated so deeply into the brain, it was pummeled into joyous submission with just a few tiny plates. Accompanying this was a bottle of 2004 Numanthia Termanthia, 100 points from Robert Parker, an old vines Tempranillo from the Toro region of Spain. I knew from the first noseful it was going to be legendary. A good sign for me is when a wine has rich vanilla in the nose, and this had that and so much more. My notes included mentions of chocolate and venison flavors…again, a bottle of this (there were only 1500 bottles of this vintage made) is rather thinly spread amongst 6 people, but the taste was so huge I was able to sip it slowly and didn’t feel unsatisfied in the least. After the meal, we were invited into the kitchen and sat with Sergi at his private table, where I was presented with a cake and candles, and champagne. Uh-oh…it was 11.40…we had to run. I felt awful, but we got to enjoy a few minutes with Sergi and made our goodbyes and thanks, and ran into cabs to get back to the clubs. Well, things had gone a bit sour back at Gruta 77. Jon was onstage playing by himself, and the mood was drunk and ugly. Devil’s Night in full effect. As it turns out, the club had led people to believe we were going on at 9.30!! which was never the case—we have a contract that lists 11pm as the stage time, and this is signed by the promoter and the venue. Granted, we were an hour late, but the audience was under the impression we were more than two hours late!! Some people had been given refunds, which is too bad as all the club would have had to do is either: a) learn to read and b) post the right time and make things clear. Might I mention again that when we left at 8.50 and said we’d be back by 11.30 at the earliest, they said no problem. In the end, it’s just bad communication, but it cost the club some money, and a few people were really bummed out. But, we got right onstage and go to business, and the show was highly punk rock…except the stage was so small we couldn’t move. There was not enough space above our heads to jump, and nowhere for me to thrash. People were actually slam dancing during our set. And of course, Spanish being hot blooded, a lot of people were fully pissed off with me when I got onstage, and were totally happy after the night was done. It was totally weird, and I am sorry to our fans for any part I played in the confusion, tho’ I defend my actions as innocent of most of the controversy foisted upon me. I was clear with my intentions, and was upfront about my plans. Naturally, the club has had not much good to say about us afterwards (hey, how about some WATER and TOWELS—did you hear us complain?), without for a second considering they might be at fault, at least partially, for giving out misinformation. If they had just told the people we’d be on at midnight (which is pretty normal for Spain), everybody would have been OK. The information was there for the giving. We packed up and got out of there afterwards. I was very happy to have Dom there, and to spend the night and morning with her. BILBAO, 10/31 Dom & I have had many a hotel breakfast together, there’s something about it I enjoy so much. Little tiny tubs of jam. Sliced cold cuts. Silver coffee service. Etc. We had a late checkout, so she & I could actually have breakfast, go back to bed, and STILL have time to walk around and spend some time together. Finally it was bye bye time. Aritz was really glad when we pulled into Bilbao. He turned off the GPS—this is his home turf. We pulled up with great relief to Kafe Antzokia—we knew this would be friendly territory—we have had two great shows here in the past. It’s a big cinema converted into a venue, with the stage dramatically at the top of a set of stairs. The sound here is amazing, cavernous but controlled, if that could be possible. And the hotel the bands stay in is next door. Perfect. For the last show, we made the set a bit longer, and we played very hard. There are some photos from the night that pretty much show us constantly in mid-air. I bled, spit, went down in the pit. A great crowd—one has to keep in mind the Bilbao crowds are sort of too cool for school, so they don’t applaud much, but that doesn’t mean they’re not into it—during the songs, they jump and thrash, and then, like…nothing. It’s kind of weird. They didn’t call for an encore, but went crazy when we peeked out from behind the curtain. We went out on a great note. There are amazing photos of the show here. After the show I had the usual packing and merch and making sure the gear was all sorted for the departure, etc etc. I took my guitar and effects back to the hotel and had a last glass of wine with Jon, Matt and Aritz—Darius and Christine were both beat after the show and went immediately to bed! I went to the room and had tons of email to check, the travel, birthday, and no access had kept me off email for a couple of days. By the time that was done, it was already 2am, and so I just kept working, packing my stuff, and soon it was 4, I was totally sober, and totally wired from the show. I took a bath, and was down in the lobby by 5. Called a cab. Of course it was All Saints so in light of the bank holiday, the street in front of the club/hotel was completely going crazy when I got in the taxi, 5 in the morning. Kafe Antzokia was open til 6. But by 6 I was checking for my flight. And off to Brussels at 7. I slept for the length of the two 2-hour flights, Bilbao-Brussels and Brussels-Toulouse. No direct flights to Toulouse, and it actually would have taken the same time or less to drive. I will say the Brussels airport is extremely modern and clean. From what I remember. I arrived to Toulouse at midday and was picked up by Eric, who had hired me to play at he and his wife’s 20th anniversary this year—they are fans from, you guessed it—back in the day. Exceedingly nice people. I was there to produce Eric’s band, currently called Palace of Sin. Sort of a country-ish rock band, right up my alley, really. We went straight from the airport to Verdun-sur-Garonne, a small village some 40 minutes from the city, and met up with his bandmates and the owner of the Studio ATL, Patrick, for lunch. I had a salad with foie gras (it’s the southwest of France, after all). The woman serving us was really unhappy, she all but threw the plates at us and all but slapped the cutlery out of our hands when she came to collect. I think she was a little overworked. Day one in the studio, i.e., me working on no sleep was supposed to be just a preproduction rehearsal, for 4 songs, so, easy—but when I found out the rehearsal was taking place in the studio, I wasted no time and started to get sounds and found that we were off and running with the recording. I figured that it was easier to just rehearse a song and dive into recording it, and that we did. The studio is part of Patrick’s house, and his agreement with his neighbors is that there are no drums playing after 8, so it wasn’t a super long day, but kind of intense after no sleep and 7 days of intense travel and Posies shows. And yet, I didn’t mind at all, I was happy to be there. And the next day, where we discovered the café in the village where each morning a guy, with his dog sleeping at his feet, plays Jacques Brel (including ‘Seasons in the Sun’, which he sings in English even tho it is originally by Brel) on guitar, singing and playing a little harmonica as well. I did my grocery shopping in the Auchun by Eric and Helene’s place, which is perhaps the most enormous supermarket I have been in (and I am American, remember, from the land of the biggest everythings). So, since then, I have a kind of studio routine, we break fast at home, drive 40 minutes to Verdun (not the site of the WWI battle), take a café at with the singing man, get to working at about 10. I work straight thru til 10pm. The musicians come and go, but I’m at the computer all day, I bring (minimal) food with me and eat in place. Anybody who has worked with me in the studio in France is familiar with my ‘blanc de dinde’ regimen, a la Chris Walla and his Veggie Lunchables regimen! At ten, Eric and I drive back to Toulouse, and have a midnight snack with Helene (and now, their two teenage kids, who were away for school break), and then I check a few emails, write this ridiculously detailed blog for the entertainment of 6 people, and, perhaps now, sleep… note--since writing this last night I should add that at the end of the studio day today, Patrick gave me a cake! Just as he's a nice guy! Love KS Toulouse, FRANCE
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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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