This post delayed by reason of sloth, lack of connectivity, and general vacation-ness.
Belle Isle de la Pause
As I write it’s 4 p.m. in Beijing, and in theory, the men’s tennis gold match has begun, however, it’s yet to come up on France 3, they are showing rowing at the moment. But, I’ll stick with it for awhile and see if it comes up.
This week I have been on vacation on Ile de Re, sleeping late and smoking tea. As I have remarked before, the atmosphere—the pure air, the soft light—induces a condition where I can’t open my eyes between 10 and 10. And sometimes need a nap in between. I have been spending hours with Aden, putting her on the merry-go-round, combing the beach for skate egg cases, touching sea anemones, and so on. Just before dinner one night, Dominique spotted a baby rabbit being chased by a huge tom cat, and we leaped out the window into the corn field across the road to chase the cat off, but we imagined ourselves too late. The rabbit was injured and disoriented.
The A Life A Song A Cigarette record is done, I shipped off the hard drive before heading to the train last Tuesday. The last things I worked on were changes to the mix of the last song at the band’s request, and making an extended intro to one of the songs, kind of a remix, but only 8 bars long.
I was extremely pleased to find in my mailbox that morning a package from Jello Biafra—we met at the Disciplines’ show at By:Larm in Oslo in February, he gave us the thumbs up, and wanted to buy a single, but we were sold out. I said I could send him one, and he said he’d gladly trade a CD for that…well, I wanted to wait to send him also a copy of the finished album, so I got around to this in May…and how pleased are we to find he’s a man of his word, like we suspected but these days you never know. He sent me the Tumor Circus album (his recommendation as I am such a fan of the Witch Trials EP, he said this was in a similar vein) and the Blowfly album. And included a personalized note. Thumbs up for Jello, he gets my vote and then some—of all the people I deal with from various walks of the music world, most of them can’t even return an email—and Jello went above and beyond even what he said he’d do…well, as I have been a fan and admirer since I was a teenager, it means a great deal.
Meanwhile, in the rest of the world, I’ve been on the island taking care of my family (extended this summer, we have in the house 5 adults, 3 kids, and two cats {one pregnant}). Going to the market, playing with the kids, building sand castles. This kind of thing. I hadn’t seen my daughter in about a month, so it’s been a very anticipated and joyous reunion. The first days I was here I forgot about the phone and the computer, hell I didn’t bathe or brush my teeth, I just went feral and it was fantastic.
OSLO, 8/15
Up at 6, tipping into the kitchen to make my café and tea, I went out on the back porch to retrieve my underwear, which I were subject to a spontaneous ocean swim the previous afternoon. They were *almost * dry. Overhead, the sky only barely acknowledged the approach of the sun, and the bats were making their morning run.
I stepped out to my taxi as the skies were turning orange over the mainland. The taxi took me to the La Rochelle train station, and from there I took the TGV to Paris Montparnasse, then a bus to Charles de Gaulle, then flew to Oslo. Somewhere in the airport I was relieved of my mobile phone. Comme ce comme ca.
Arriving in Oslo, I trained to the National Theater station, and after consulting my GPS was able to walk to the venue, La Belle Sole. This is the same place we played for fashion week in February, and we were back to play for Tiger of Sweden’s party for the summer fashion week (last summer Oslo Fashion Week we played for Miss Sixty, but were of course bedecked in Tiger.
We did a quick soundcheck—I had more important business to attend to! As soon as we had run thru a song or two I hopped a cab in search of the Kulturkirken Jakob. Now, I was certain, and the net seemed to confirm, this was the church on Hausmanns Gate, around the corner from where we made the Disciplines album. However, when we pulled up in the cab, it was covered in scaffolding and surrounded by fencing, and there wasn’t a soul around. I thought…this *has * to be it. So I told the cab to make a full approach, and I jumped out. There was a gap in the fencing just big enough to allow access to the door, and the door, incredibly was open. I was in the foyer, and there were two people there—and they confirmed I was at the right address. I jumped back to the cab, paid, and went back inside. There were about 250 people seated on folding chairs going up a riser, and where the normal church action would be taking place, there was old guy hunched over a Steinway. Pews along the side were more or less empty, so I was able to get quite close, albeit off to the side, but I could clearly watch the man’s face and the sound was more or less unamplified, and bouncing gently off the expanses of the church. Paul Bley was improvising. Now, the only Paul Bley record I have is “Introducing…” on which he appears a cool nerd in the young Brubeck fashion: skinny tie, glasses, math genius hair. Now he was classic grandpa/history teacher near retirement. The kind of guy that would spend a lot of time on a small boat. Charcoal slacks, non descript sweater, non descript silver hair. His whole appearance spoke “I don’t give a damn, I’m just glad to be here”. Fantastic. His improvisations were superb, full of humor, surprise silences, huge low end crashes that he let ring, quotes from almost familiar pieces but twisted with diminished notes, and occasional ragtime flourishes. His hands chased each other on lightning-fast parallel runs, and then there would be wistful major-seventh holds, and gentle pentatonic drifts. His ovation was undeniable, he had to continue, and he did two more short pieces before simply saluting the crowd and hobbling off, he seemed to have great difficulty walking, and leaned on the piano as he went off towards his dressing room. He never spoke a word.
I stopped by Revolver Bar to pay my get well wishes to Dan Marius, by way of speaking with his co workers. Dan Marius is a sweet and gentle guy that was on duty when (two?) taggers were about to deface the front of the building. He went to dissuade them and was stabbed and seriously wounded. Had another staff member not had some first aid training, he might have bled to death on the spot. He is recovering in hospital, and I wish him recovery—and I hope the perpetrators are apprehended. So far, they remain at large.
I took the tram back to Solli Place, and the Tiger party was in progress. I did photos with the Tiger/Skar agency folks, who are really great people, I can’t say enough good things about them. From the staff at the store to the head cheese (Mr. Skar, who says little but rocks out during our sets) these people are a family even if they aren’t sharing the same last name (but, the Skar daughters manage the business under their father).
My bandmates all arrived at about 10.45, and at just after 11 we went on, a much different band than the one that played the same stage 6 months earlier. Healthier, more seasoned and confident, we tore into our set like hungry crocs fighting over a roasted chicken. Many of the non rock enthusiasts immediately fled to the back, the rest of the attendees pushed forward…I had everyone leaping in “I Got Tired” just like they were teens at a festival. You have to imagine the crowd at a clothing line’s fashion week party are retailers, fashion writers, people who might not ever go to rock concerts. You know, fashion has a Euro-club vibe. So, some people were simply confused or scared (we like this) and most folks were just into it. I had many people tell me after the show that they normally listen to electronic/dance music, and that they loved the show and had never seen anything like it (it’s nice to find a group of people not previously inoculated by Iggy Pop).
Everyone was quickly drunk, and at some point the club opened to its normal clientele—models, yuppies and such. It was absolutely packed and our upper bar idyll was opened and immediately overrun. We still kept the VIP table, tho'. I had two glasses of chardonnay but knowing what lay ahead I switched to Pellegrino. The staff of Tiger was in full party mode, and it was fun watching them cut loose. Bulle was so drunk he kept asking Claus to slap him, and Claus obliged—hard! Finally we cleared out of there, and cabbed back to Claus’. I had about 2 hours of sleep, but since it wasn’t my phone that was providing the alarm, I couldn't “trust” it, so I kept waking up every two minutes to check the time.
5am, up, showered, wrote emails, my cab arrived at 5.51, and took me to the train station, and from there I took the train to the airport, and then flew to Paris. I had a row to myself, so received 2 more hours of sleep in more or less supine form. Cabbed home, and dumped my dirty clothes, and consulted email a bit more, listening to one of the Paul Bley CDs I bought at his show. Next I cabbed to the station, and then the 3 hour train to La Rochelle, and a one hour-plus bus ride to La Noue. The bridge was completely backed up, so we were stuck at the peage for some 20 minutes.
Upon arrival I went to the pony club to assist Aden’s equestrian lesson! This was followed by dinner and almost immediately by a long sleep…and now…onto an agenda-less agenda.
Love
KS
La Noue FRANCE
