9.30.2008
I added some new photos to the photos section...on my computer ALL the photos are looking like they are cut off, so there's no lower half and no caption...hopefully this is a local phenomenon. Have a look! Let me know if they look right to you or not. Love KS Paris
9.29.2008
It’s always like that, isn’t it? The time at home shoots by like water thru a narrow part of the arroyo, and it’s suddenly time to recap. Most of the time I was home, when I wasn’t running from one appointment to another, I was working on overdubs and editing for Red Jacket Mine, picking up the story where I left it four months ago, working from my flat, playing keyboards, singing and doing a bit of editing here and there. In a nice cross-pollinization, Patrick Porter from RJM ended up providing some incredible pedible steel for several songs on the upcoming A Life A Song A Cigarette album, coming out in November. It was lovely to revisit these tracks, I am really chuffed with how these recordings done in Seattle this spring turned out. I have a bit more work to do when I get home, and then I send off the files (not unlike a digital version of sending in the clones) and move on to the next bit of mouse click mixing. This week I managed to take Dom out for our anniversary to the restaurant Goumard, a funny little place in the center of Paris, a mix of that carpeted vibe of an old school Parisian resto, with outrageously cool Art Nouveau bathrooms (Charles de Gaulle was said to have ‘admired them’, what ever that means, I shudder to think) and rather atrocious painting IMHO. We giggled and shared a delightful Chassagne-Montrachet, and fought (in a nice way) over the braised figs. VOLDA, 9/26 Two hours of crawling thru Paris traffic, horrible waits at security, but I still made the flight Oslo, despite the fact I left more than three hours early with a shuttle pickup at my front door. I immediately fell back asleep til we hit the tarmac in Oslo. After debating whether or not a run to Tim Wendelboe’s was worth it, and I actually believe it would have been, I opted to set up camp in the ‘tapas’ bar (tapas is a concept adopted all over Europe when prospective restaurateurs hit upon the golden ‘charge more, serve less’ opportunity it provided) and catch up on email, and eventually my bandmates arrived in time for our prop hop to Volda, another little town dramatically placed on Norway’s wild west coast, like a pearl in the undulations of a scallop’s flesh. The wind seemed to be repelling us from the ground as we headed towards the runway, the landscape was decidedly Chinese, with mountains forming upward semi-ovoids, ascending out of pure mist. In fact, where we had dinner that evening, pretty much the only game in town, was a Chinese place called ‘Landscape’. They knew what’s up. We were met at Volda’s tiny airport by part of the ‘Veka 08’ staff, Veka being the back-to-school festival for the uni students in this little colony. Visible from the hiway into town is a striking piece of architecture, the library/museum devoted to one Ivar Aasen, who came up with a new version of Norwegian that you see as an option on Wikipedia or a language choice for some software programs, a sort of Scandinavian Esperanto. We loaded in, did a kind of soundcheck (Bjorn was to arrive on a later flight) and checked into the rather grim hotel (called, invitingly “TOURIST HOTEL”. Like a little bit of Soviet bloc set in the fjords. We were told the only game in town for food was the aforementioned Chinese place, so, we acquiesced—I pretty much avoid Chinese food in small European towns at all costs; spoiled as I am by the excellent Chinese restaurants in Belleville, not far from where I live. We did an interview with the local paper over dinner, and Bjorn eventually joined us. Back at the hotel, we were told that the show was being pushed back 45 minutes, for whatever reason. I mean, this is a really small town, and I can’t imagine that people had other stuff to do, but, hey, I’m not in charge of the proceedings, obviously. So, I finally strolled back, in the dark, past skeptical looking sheep, wind stirring leaves around me, and arrived as the first band was finishing. We had a few tech problems, took awhile to get Bjorn’s guitar going, but finally we commenced, and in the meantime Baard’s bass was not going well for him. In these cases, it’s best to just go forward, but I was aware he was having a hard time and it made it a bit hard to concentrate. The show did eventually take off into a good flow, and the audience was pretty loose by this time, around 1am, and it was a fun show, definitely. I had a fun mic stand, all bent and short, to abuse for comic effect. I managed to balance in different ways on the barricade, and use it like a gymnastic tool, swinging over it, hanging off it backwards by locking my legs to the bars, etc. Had quite a few audience members take the mic and sing and shout with me—some were really good! Bjorn and I walked back to the hotel in the deep of a Norwegian fall night, and I tuned into the debates from my hotel room. I am glad that the world viewed Obama as the winner on technicalities, as I had not been expecting John McCain to perform as strongly as he did, he seemed quite in control of his facts and presentation (tho I disagree with many of his conclusions); by comparison Obama seemed to occasionally stumble, ever so slightly. And I felt his roundabout response linking his Russia policy to American energy dependence solutions was technically correct but I could hear a collective ‘huh?’ from the American public. Both men have admirable qualities, I just feel like McCain is not as honest as he proclaims to be, and the Palin addition makes his potential presidency absolutely toxic IMHO. And since her arrival, he has been bending to the right—the old big-business-gets-a-free-ride philosophy, family values arguments coming to the forefront, and the plutocrats get so sweep up all the chips while we argue whether or not stem cells are sentient beings. Meanwhile, we have to remember that despite the fact the economy and world events are often narrowing the possible courses of action to fewer and fewer sane ones (not that sanity is part of the decision making process of the Current, on-a-mission-from-God (Mars?), Occupant) that Obama offers to at least attempt to integrate us into the world community in a more realistic way than the tough-guy approach that’s just not serving us well. With a military man in the White House, I believe the patience of the world to keep finding something likable about the US will absolutely run out, and we will find ourselves beset from pretty much every side. We need him as the antidote for the disease we have no idea how much we are suffering from… SKIEN, 9/27 *Always* up early. That’s rock, right? Even after being up til almost 4 watching McCain and Obama duke it out. Rain beat upon the curving mountains around Volda, and we were driven to the airport. Security/check in/bag drop is all one swift motion at this tiny airport, and despite the fact we had tons of gear they gave us break on the overweight charge, big time. There is nothing in the Volda airport to eat except for what you can pull out of a vending machine, so Baard went somewhere and came back with a bag of pancakes! Really! There is free wifi, however…good to know! Our plane left late, and bobbled in the air currents as we lifted off. Oslo was clear and bright. We claimed our stuff, and ran into the proprietor of Big Dipper records as we came out of baggage claim; he was there to pick up the Zombies, whose show he was promoting in Oslo that night. We were met by our tech (soon to retire) Fredrik, and a slick Merc van with trailer, and we drove down to Skien, a small town in the same general area as Larvik, my bandmates’ hometown, etc. South of Oslo a ways. We made very good time so at one point we stopped for waffles (a very Norwegian thing—and you should eat them with your hands, I got weird looks using cutlery) and coffee and some little cabin café overlooking a pond. Eventually we pulled into Skien and found the club, which is a cave under a brewery. I immediately thought—amazing wine cellar potential here! It’s a thick plaster building and makes for a nice, dank rock club. We spent a LONG time soundchecking—in fact, I was standing by the sound guy, EQing and repatching trying to get things up to speed. Finally we either found a solution or gave up trying, hard to remember now. Our promoter, Kjell, had cooked up some chili con carne in the kitchen, and as skeptical as I’d been at first, it was delicious. Skeptical too was I that Skien had enough inhabitants to actually make doing this show worth it for all parties. We went off to the sister venue of the Katakombene, a little pub that boasted lovely c. 1900 décor, and a little stage, and had a round before the show (me: coffee). Came back and I chased the opening band to get onstage—they ended up doing 5 songs, so we managed to get on before too late. In fact, we had a really decent crowd, the room was plenty full. And, being that we’re always better after a show to warm up, we played an electric set, very charged up—battery, indeed. We were plagued by big whoomping sounds whenever I moved around too much, low end feedback, so I had to choose when that would be worth it, but other than that, it was a great show, and everybody loved it. After the show, Fredrik and I drove in the van back to Oslo—a two-hour drive—and unloaded the gear. I crashed on Freddie’s couch, and listened to the mayhem of very drunk Norwegians stumbling out of the bars that close at 4. Up at 7.45 the next morning, I took in one of my favorite pleasures—being up on a crisp fall day, end being the sole recipient of morning sun. There wasn’t a sole on the streets as I walked to the train station, and it was just a glorious morning. Even a tennis fan like me couldn’t help but think of this as college football weather. Back in Paris, the sun was out and it was much warmer, the trees barely turning yellow around here—in Norway they were in full autumnal scarlet. We three went to the park, and dinner included that winter classic, os a moelle—bones full of Indian butter. Last night I went to see Stevie Wonder at the Bercy. I went out of a sense of can’t-miss-this duty; I had seen him do a rather businesslike medley of hits on the Live 8 DVD, and was worried that it was going to be a gooey cheese fest. Let me tell you, when Stevie came onstage, and the place (sold out, so I guess since it was a seated floor it was about 10,000 people) erupted, all expectations went out the window. His opening number was a jam, with SW on chromatic harmonica, on Miles’ “All Blues”. An esoteric choice that really set the tone for the evening. It was his first tour of Europe in over a decade, and he mentioned that it was an emotional night for him, since Paris was the first place overseas he performed in, accompanied by his recently deceased mom. At one point, after an impassioned vocal run, he had tears streaming down his face. “Knocks Me Off My Feet” was like song number 4 in the set! With the formidable Nathan Watts on bass/keyboard bass, the band had a solid center, and no doubt Stevie rocked it, playing a real Clavinet (with just a Boss auto wah for ‘Higher Ground’), a real piano, and a digital keyboard that was generally set to a kind of vintage electric piano sound, a bit sharper than a Rhodes, but not crunchy like a Wurli. But it worked. At one point, he played a magnificent run, an octave apart, but on two different keyboards, right hand effortlessly following the left at, erm, blinding speed. But it’s Stevie’s voice that is his most magnificent instrument. We hear the pyrotechnics and technical command of say, Mariah Carey, or some other soul diva, and here comes 58-year-old Stevie Wonder, who has all of their technical prowess, plus the gospel euphoria of an Al Green, and the playfulness of an Andre 3000. His voice is perhaps even more flexible then when he was young—his top end is still pure, his low end still growls, and he just…it’s a cliché to say, put the soul he puts into each performance is at a depth that modern contenders just don’t seem to have developed yet…his heart is open, he’s not posing, he’s just giving it to you, and he has so much to give. I tried singing along, but most of the night I had a huge lump in my throat, formed of joy, and gratitude that such a man exists…I hope there are more like him. We need him. Not to mention he provided a gospel-infused endorsement—nay, plea—for Obama. France seemed to agree with him. Note: Stevie brought up a guest, a fantastic harmonica player, and they jammed together, it was brilliant--who was he? I couldn't understand his name. Fabrice Yanne? He was a smooth dressed guy, complexion and hair reminded me a bit of Smokey Robinson, a bit. Healthy and energetic. Any ideas? email me.... Love KS Paris
9.23.2008
I arrived at last in Paris Monday morning, and came home to unpack almost three weeks’ worth of travels—knowing that I was merely preparing to pack for this weeks’ travel. I had sent the bulk of my stuff home with Dom, so I wouldn’t have to drag a huge suitcase full of dirty stage outfits all over Norway (thank you Dom). Monday night I had the pleasure to have an after dinner drink with Joey Waronker and his wife Elizabeth; I knew Joey from the first three years of my tenure in REM, where he was drumming; Joey was in town this month to tour and record with Air. The following night I made a rare appearance at Le Motel, entertaining an American couple, friends of a friend, and showing them hipster central, my neighborhood! It was fun each night to have some Americans grooving on Paris, and I took great delight in telling them all the disfunctionalities that France operates under, and how this still didn’t deter me from living there, so it must be great. Wednesday I went as early as possible to Orly airport, not wanting to repeat the debacle of July, that caused me to postpone the show that I was now making up. I was up at the crack of dawn, before Aden was up for school, to get my flight at noon. I had packed and repacked, commando style, the night before—everything was accounted for, ready, clothes ironed, merch counted, no room for mistakes. And none were made. It was a huge relief when we touched down in Barcelona. My host, the promoter of my show, and my friend, Nacho, was rehearsing with his great band Poet in Process—for a festival appearance this weekend, their first show since vocalist Lynne Marti underwent vocal node surgery this summer. Evidently she is sounding better than ever, with improved range and command of the upper register of her voice. But, as they were rehearsing, I had nowhere to go, which suited me fine. So I parked myself at the pizzeria on the corner by Nacho’s flat, and tried to forget the awful sandwich I had eaten for brunch in Orly, which I was almost certain had given me food poisoning right after I ate it. My sides ached, and I broke out in a cold sweat. But, nothing more severe materialized, but I felt like such an insult to my innards should be avenged. In furthering my conceit that Spain is kicking the shit out of France—in Sports (Roland Garros and the Tour de France conquered by Spaniards), in cuisine, in wine…Spain is hungry (very hungry, it seems) and ambitious—France is often guilty of resting on its laurels—this little pizzeria offered a salad of wild mushrooms and sautéed foie gras that was absolutely perfect—perfectly cooked, extremely fresh ingredients, and looking good on the plate. It was moderately priced, delivered quickly, and the server was very friendly. Soyez attentif Les Francais! (Pizza Piccatta is the place I lunched at.) Eventually I was joined by Hugo from Naïve Rec (the Posies’ and Big Star’s label in Spain) and Nacho, and Nacho’s lovely g.f. Carolina. We had some wine, and talked biz. I settled into Nacho and Caro’s flat, and then I headed to the offices of Rockzone mag, where I was interviewed and did a bit of acting—I did a short performance of ‘Best Mistake’ by the Disciplines on acoustic guitar, but it was part of a skit—well, you just have to see the thing. My work done, I was able to eat a big slab of meat at a very friendly Argentine restaurant opened by a former Arola employee and call it an early night. BARCELONA, 9/18 The day started with me coming out of the shower and seeing a text message on my phone from a Discipline who shall remain nameless: “Flights not convenient for me, have to cancel the show.” Meaning the show TWO DAYS FROM NOW. Meaning a MAINSTAGE FESTIVAL APPEARANCE SECOND FROM HEADLINING. Er…I called and found that one of my guys was having a meltdown on various fronts, but a phone call to SAS/500 Euro flight rebooking/loads of interband calls ranging in tone from angry to consoling later, and all was back on track. Now, this was all done as I was trying to juggle about 10 interviews with the biggest papers/magazines in Spain, and prepare for a show, but I did pull it off and I will put myself up there as one of the all time coolest managers/tour managers alive. I am very impressed with SAS for allowing the rebooking on such a short notice and only charging 500 Euros for that—I was envisioning thousands of Euros to rebook on that short of timeframe. I came back to Nacho’s flat to do the work, during my lunch break from my press day, and Nacho, seeing I was stressing, cooked me lunch, bless his heart. Well. Interviews were done in the lobby of the Hotel Arts, very friendly people there, they were extremely accommodating and quite excited about my show, too. When the interviews were finished I headed up to the Arola Restaurant where the small PA was being set up. They no longer have the gumption to drag the Steinway out onto the terrace, in fact, I rather think this show was the last of its kind and all future musical guests will be DJs, but it was paradise while it lasted—these two shows at Arola have been wonderful nights. I played it lo-key. I didn’t push the promotion of these shows, kept it word of mouth, and thus had the seats filled perfectly on the terrace, but no SRO crowds like last time. With the smaller PA, and the fact that I wasn’t presenting much new, this suited me perfectly. The cool part is that many of the audience were hotel guests (unf. Pamela Anderson did not attend) – I had lots of non-Spanish guys in business suits buying CDs afterwards. Now, the point of coming to Arola is to EAT of course, and this I did, Nacho and I at the chef’s table in the kitchen (where I had lunch with Sergi last year). The menu has changed, and although I can’t describe every plate that came by, there were so many intense and delicate flavors—from sea cucumber (which I have had in Chinese restaurants and just didn’t care for, but here was magical) to many, many kinds of flowers, specially chosen as herbs to complement the dishes. We enjoyed a bottle (on my dime) of the legendary latest release of the Vega Sicilia Reserva Especial, a blend of some fine vintages of roughly 7-10 years ago, that’s up on the list of best bottles produced in Spain of all time. Extraordinary cheese was served with a glass of Ordonez dessert wine—unf., not the SL Essencia ‘04 that WA gave 99 points to, but a lovely finishing touch nonetheless. By taking our time with dinner, and by having espresso before and during the gig, I was actually clear and relatively sober by showtime. I played “110 or 220V” and “Even the Forgers…” two of my newer songs, a selection of the good stuff, and people were loving it. Prob. not my most intense show, emotionally, but also, I was respectful of the place and didn’t want to scare the tourists, you know? After I was done I DJ’d for an hour or so—I guess I played almost two hours, actually. And closed the night with a special song for one of the staff—it was her birthday, and I forgot to attend to that during the set, but after closing I sat her down at the Steinway and played a one on one “Here’s to the Future”. Other notes: not crying this time, I played in my set “At My Most Beautiful” by REM! The next day I was up early to take a petit dej in the neighborhood of Scanner FM, and do some interviews in the area. At Scanner I recorded the voice for my next podcast, and dropped off the files, to be edited at their leisure! After a lunch with Paula from Bad TV, I hopped the train to Madrid, as the golden light of dusk swirled in the dust of the hills around Zaragoza. The highlight was a storm that clung to the ground, sunshine visible above it, and within it, that spattered the train and the countryside and was a memory within minutes. Arriving in Madrid, I cabbed to my hotel, and checked in, and started to research online the particulars of the Long Winters show at El Sol. Turns out it was a ten-minute walk from my hotel. By this time it was about 10pm so I searched for a place to have some food. A lot of crap around Grand Via. I stuck my nose into a few places that just weren’t right. Eventually, I landed at a place called Galopin, and it felt right. Very friendly. I had grilled vegetables and a platter of jamon iberico. A half bottle of some very unremarkable Rioja, the house wine—the half bottle I wanted was out of stock. And some fromage blanc de brebis with honey, that was nice! I walked up to El Sol (site of a legendary Posies show in 1995), and my nerdy appearance, air of authority, and American voice gave me full access to the venue, security stepping aside. I guess all Americans look/sound alike! I immediately asked for the dressing room, and was shown right in. Hanging with the Long Winters, mostly Eric and John, who are mostly the LW’s anyway, was wonderful, we had a great time catching up. During the set, I was called up to sing on “Stupid”, “Scared Straight” and “Cinnamon”; I managed to jump on the piano to play a bit of riffs and solo on “Stupid”. All in all, a very warm and friendly night. To my surprise, people were really jazzed I was there, lots of fans were excited about that.
I made the hang and headed out into the night, feeling very good and smelling appallingly of smoke.  MADRID, 9/20 I was up pretty early, partly with anxiety-driven nightmares of my bandmates not getting on the plane. I wanted to be prepped so I headed down to the festival site. The Festival Pura Vida is a free festival taking place on several stages in downtown Madrid; the festival is now in its 4th or 5th year, and is a very well run event. The organizers are a couple, Mariela and Diego; Mariela is HUGELY pregnant, so I am totally impressed that she has the energy to organize this event and the control of mood to keep cool at all times. They are both really cool, sweet people. And they have put together a world class event. Great production, great team, great bands/artists. On the way to the location—our stage, the maintstage, was on the Plaza de Vazquez de Mella, just above Gran Via in the area up GV from Malasana. Walking down the Calle de las Infantas, I saw a bar that was open (address is number 9), and made a note of it—this was just 100 feet from the edge of the square. At the square, headliners Delorean were soundchecking, so, I knew I had time to kill (as it turns out, our soundcheck and stage times were exactly as they were told to me—again, this is extremely impressive especially for loosely-clocked Spain!). I double-backed to the bar, El Pezcador. Enter one of my favorite discoveries in some time! Just a typical Spanish bar in many ways: shabby décor, cramped space, no mood lighting whatsoever--unless your mood happens to be relentlessly fluorescent at all hours. However, sipping my café cortado, I noted that the case on the bar—most Spanish bars display their ingredients rather in the same method as a sushi bar, and this can often be more of hazard warning than an enticement to stay—was displaying a very nice variety of really fresh selections---the chipirones were clear and shiny, not glazed and murky; the meats were luscious and red. Many times a Spanish bar will display ingredients that look like they have been handed down by at least two preceding generations…slathered in olive oil in the hopes that the flies don’t learn how to snorkel. But that was far from the case at El Pezcador. Notes were further taken. And I was introduced to the Spanish method of serving croissants—it was offered ‘buttered’, I thought they were asking if I wanted butter—but they take the croissant, cut in half lengthwise, and grill it with butter AHHHH—like Homer Simpson, who won an award for inventing a meal between breakfast and brunch, this takes indulgence to a whole new level. Outrageous. Heading back to the venue, having gotten word the guys had landed and were headed to meet me for soundcheck, I in fact timed my arrival with theirs, and saw three guys in black overcoats getting out of a cab. It was high noon, and about 30 degrees C/86 F. I helped get them sorted, the overall chief of production spoke French, so we figured out the game plan, and eventually Delorean was done and we took the stage for soundcheck. Again, the team was ultra professional, and whatever small issues arose, they were quickly sorted. Even the fact that somehow Claus’ stickbag hadn’t made it back from Stavanger was compensated, the backline tech had some extra sticks. After the check, we stashed guitars in the festival offices, which overlooked the square, and where there were dressing rooms—each artists had their own room, but not for the whole night. Delorean and Disciplines had one of the rooms for their own after a certain time, but til the end of the night. In the meantime, there was plenty of office space to leave our guitars and what not, and we went straight to El Pezcador.  We ordered tons of food, some things didn’t come, and some things came that we didn’t order—but this was caused by 3 non-spanish speakers talking alongside my Spanish translation to the waiter—and it didn’t matter, everything that came was delicious. I ordered light stuff—a few slices of ham on toast, and a salad—but Claus, not used to Spanish generosity, just about keeled over when he saw how big his steak was. Anyway, with so much food, wine, water and café to work thru, we had plenty of time to discuss strategy for the years ahead—we need to plan way in advance to know what to prioritize, and how to fit in the things we want—touring the USA, touring Spain, lightning strikes on other markets—with everyone’s school and job commitments. There’s not quite enough Disciplines biz to support 4 guys full time, plus two of them are serious medical students. The fact is, we have serious limitations, but we have managed to do amazing things within those limitations. And everyone is still into it as long as we can respect the individual needs of everyone’s daily lives.
After lunch, we all went for naps.
Then I snuck out to bring down the merch and check on things. Believe it or not, by 7pm I was hungry. I couldn’t resist my favorite hearty foods, tho this was prob. a mistake on show day, I went back to El Pezcador and had callos—the tripe and god knows what else stew that is Madrid’s signature dish—and morcilla (blood sausage). A little intense to eat that two hours before the show, but what the hell! I café’d up, and went off to do an interview with the local TV. Show time was drawing near. I paced the VIP bar, started running into friends around. I managed to get paid for our show. Then the band before us finished, and we started to set up. And kicked it off. There were monitors at my feet, which I don’t use but were sure to cause me to trip, and a massive barricade, made of alternating triangles of barricade sections—essentially making a barricade six feet deep—VIPs/press etc. had access to the pit, so there was energy there, but it was hard to get to and from the crowd. Not that I was prevented—at one point I was singing from the merch table at the sound desk! The crowd, to whom we were strangers, loved it. They really grew in enthusiasm with every song. I was suffering. It was still 27 C when we went on, and even with just a week off, I was out of shape and gasping for breath. I felt like a fat slob, but I had to get my shirt off about halfway thru. I had to crawl like Spiderman on these tiny slippery barricade railings, but I managed to crawl in and out of the crowd, and get around. Not only crawl on them, but stand on them, balance on these slippery little metal things, covered in the sweat and moisture of the audience and the night. By the time we finished people were really into it, jumping and clapping along. Success. The entire show was filmed by a local TV, hopefully the footage will surface. For my part, I was cramped, sweating, in pain, out of breath, and of course, in song #2 of the set, I manged to plant two of the three feet of the mic stand on the monitor wedges, and put my foot down on the third, elevated foot. Result: blam! I effectively levered the mic stand straight into my teeth, and earned another nice chip on the incisors. I spit it out and kept rocking. And so on thru the night. I felt fat and our of shape, but I think in the end this was a great show, and certainly people loved it. I ran back to the sound desk after wards and sold shirts and CDs to the kids. I even made arrangements to meet a fan on Gran Via the next day to sell her a CD and buttons as she didn’t have cash that night. I had my picture taken and was recognized all over town that night…Mariela and Diego loved it, and my bandmates were elated. I went back to the hotel, dropped the merch in my room, showered, changed, and was back in time watch most of Delorean, who were incredible—dance rhythms with echo-y guitar and groovy, swooping bass—like if the Stone Roses actually played rave music when they played raves. The crowd was going insane for them too. They are lovely people, and I was very happy for their success. A perfect night for all involved.  My friends—Olivia from H Magazine, our intrepid fan and photographer Alison, our BCN street team leader Gemma, and new friends of mine—Raquel, who is the artist relations rep for Gibson guitars in Spain, and her friend Dario, who is a marketer/brand builder and all around whipsmart and hilarious and kind person—we all set out with my bandmates for a wonderful night of jokes, and for me, clean fun. I had one beer, and two virgin peach juices. Mostly I made great chat with Dario, and the others dropped off one by one. We ended up in the Honky Tonk, where I played covers with the Super Ratones this summer. Filled with smoke, it was a silly, preppy place—guys were dressed like Gordon Gekko and I don’t think it was a costume. Eventually I had enough, my poor knees were begging me to go to bed, and smelly but sober, I retired and walked home, the last of us splitting up on Gran Via. The next day I awoke when the phone rang, for an interview of some sort. I could barely talk, my voice was so ruined by the smoke of the night before. I was one in the afternoon. Claus, Raquel and Dario accompanied me to El Pezcador, for my 4th meal in about 24 hours there. That night we all went to see the Hellacopters on their farewell tour (look, why do bands even bother with this anymore? We KNOW they’ll be back) at Sala Heineken, where the Posies will play next month. It was ridiculously packed—and somehow, despite the smoking ban, again, after three songs my eyes were burning. We stayed for an hour, and then fled the smoke and heat, which became unbearable, even tho the show was great, in favor of late night tapas, and a birthday dinner for Olivia. It was a lovely ending to the night. I was less sober this night, since I had no shows for the next week, but just with a delicious warm coating of Ribera del Duero wine on my synapses, which meant for a nice sound sleep. On Monday I lunched at El Pezcador AGAIN. I had pig ear, yes, pig ear, chopped up and sautéed with garlic. Hell yes. Knowing I was smelly, I went without shame to meet with the Disciplines’ new home in Spain, 2Fer Records, a label in the PIAS family. Run by, yes, two guys named Fer, who also run operations in PIAS Spain, I am confident this will give the Disciplines a sustained release and promotion campaign for early 2009. It was time to head to the airport, and in the meantime, now the second day of fall, the season went all literal and dumped rain like Sam Peckinpah distributes fake blood—spattering, spurting, splattering—and somehow, guys on Gran Via instantly switched from selling fake Rolexes to umbrellas (hopefully not fake). I grabbed a cab to Barajas, and lucked out that even tho my bags were overweight, no one noticed because the guy checking in next to me had the cutest baby ever and everyone was losing their shit over this baby, who was, in fact, adorable. In duty free I grabbed some PX, which I’m enjoying tonight, and in a few hours I was back to being abused by my daughter (“you’re very ugly, papa” was her thanks for my back-from-traveling gift). Up at 7 this morning to get her to school, I needed a nap for like 2 hours today, and was incapable of getting any meaningful work done. I think I was exhausted not from the travel and the shows, but from digesting all the delicious food. No need to say, my return to pilates tonight was a necessary penance for all the sin I’ve indulged in. On your knees, boy. Love KS Paris
9.14.2008
HELSINKI, 9/9 Sort of a dreadful day from an REM perspective. Not only did a torrential downpour scare away a lot of potential public for this outdoor show, but at the end of the night, Peter Buck's cherished Rickenbacker guitar, part of every REM show since 1982, was apparently stolen--right off the stage. Read more here. Contact REM via their website www.remhq.com should you have information about this iconic instrument. For the Disciplines, however, it was a pretty damn good day. We started the day with a fun interview on Radio Helsinki . Our show was magnificent, and for some strange reason, despite the slick stage, I never fell down. I did *crawl* on the wet ground tho. But by choice! When we went on at just before 6p.m., there was hardly anyone in the whole place. Just a big, soggy, empty stadium. Rain was coming down in absolute torrents. But, the REM fan club folks, and let's say 1000 hardcore people were there, most down in front, a bunch in the way back under a roofed section of the venue, and about 8 people in the stands. I saw a video of us playing 'I Got Tired' that shows all the people in the front are jumping with me, prob. the most people getting that into it at any show we played. Hats off to the Finns, again! During REM's set I had to get dinner and do the meet n' greet for a bit (and change into dry clothes), and I was walking out of our dressing room when George, the band assistant, came running up and said: "Strings! Get on stage!". I hustled up there and joined the band for 'Rockville', singing and playing piano. I knew the chords and played Beethoven-style, since the monitors by the piano were off, monitor engineer (also named George) didn't know I was there on the other end of the stage for a bit! For the encore I did "At My Most Beautiful" on the guitar and singing, and then all--me, the Editors and REM played "Orange Crush" and "It's the End of the World" together, and I stayed up for the finale, 'Man on the Moon'. After the show, the mood quickly went dark when it was determined Peter's guitar was missing, and this unfortunate event quickly overshadowed the show itself, which is really too bad. It made the goodbye weird BUT I had a good chat with each REM member and said my goodbyes to as much of the crew as I could locate (the search for the guitar was on, it was hoped that it was merely misplaced). Goodbyes and thank yous. All had great things to say, about the band, but also, many things were said that clarified some things that had never been clarified--specifically, that it was purely for the fact that they wanted to do a stripped down tour, not some faux pas of mine, that had resulted in me not being a part of the band this time around. Oddly, it was never clearly stated before, and this helped me a great deal to hear. What more can I say about this REM tour, than thank you? Both for the invitation of the Disciplines, and the fact that, hey...I have a band of my own, which I love, and which would have been impossible to maintain had the REM tour swept me away for the spring summer and fall. I also said bye bye to all the guys flying home from Helsinki--Claus and Fredrik (our tech) left for the airport at 3am when the bus started to make its way back to Oslo, and Bjorn and Christophe (our sound engineer) went after the show to stay with Lasse, of Lemonator/Radio Helsinki fame, a great guy I've known since the Posies played their first show in Finland in 1996, with his band supporting. These two flew home in the afternoon. Dom, myself plus Baard and Gunder (our other tech) went back in the bus. We boarded the ferry in Turku early the next morning, and drove on from Stockholm, actually getting to Oslo much earlier than we thought we would, about 3am, 24 hours after leaving Helsinki. Thursday I picked up more CDs from our label to sell at our shows, having sold tons of SMOKiNG KiLLS to REM fans, and more copies of my Covers EP. Friday Dom and I headed to the airport, met up with Claus and Baard, and said bye bye to Dom--Dom who took over the merch and guest list duties and just was amazing during the tour. She too gets a massive thank you. The rest of flew to Haugesund. HAUGESUND, 9/12 Our show was highly anticipated after our great show at Rockfest in June. We had a huge article in the local paper previewing our show, and we went on the local radio that afternoon. Haugesund was shining in the late summer sun, absolutely sparkling. This was a huge contrast with the gloom that had been in effect since Stockholm, including our day off in Oslo the day before. So, our moods were upbeat. Now, a bit of funny business. Originally, this show was to be held at Byscenen, a legendary venue that the Briskeby guys all rated very highly. Our promoter, Helge, used to work there, and was co-promoting the show with his former employers. Evidently they are c*nts, tho, and didn't want to see someone else to succeed in this small town , so they pretty much f***ed him every which way but loose. They claimed to have the date double booked, with us as the second comer, so we had to find a new venue for the show (more on that later) and then proceeded to book the record release show for Haugesund's most popular artist, Helge Toft. And THEN gave away like 100 free tickets. Just to be c*nts. They could have just have easily booked him on Saturday. If you live in Haugesund, I can't ask you to ban the place, but I can sure make you think twice before giving your money to people who definitely don't care about the music community, or the music listener. So, our man Helge had to scramble to find a venue, and he did a marvelous job. The Tonnefabriken, a biker club on the docks. Sounds scary? You'd be hard pressed to find a friendlier place (well, if the competition is Byscenen, it's not gonna happen). The Pirayas and Blondinos (biker dudes and biker chix, respectively) run the place up on the third floor as their private club, but it has this huge back room, and with a few adjustments (like building a super scary fire escape out of scaffolding) the fire department gave it the OK and a public show with alcohol was permitted. The music room looked like the ultimate punk gig or the super ultimate rehearsal place. Raw concrete floors, and this black fabric hanging everywhere. Like I said that night, this was the punkest gig we've ever played. Helge's mom made smorgas sandwiches with fresh shrimp and perfect roast beef AND she ran the door. The biker crew did the construction and brought in extra beer taps on a cherry picker through a loading door that...well, had no door, just a straight drop 3 stories (this was in a part not open to the public!). And then the peeps--we had over 220 kids at our show (despite aforementioned obstacles) and especially the hardcores in the front, the kids who saw us at Rockfest and their friends, were so there for us, singing every word! It was just full on. so much fun! We played every song we had, including playing 'Oslo' *twice*! It was nuts. What can I say? Highlights included a VERY long version of 'I Got Tired' during which I left the show room to go into the bar and do a pole dance. No lie. STAVANGER, 9/13 This show was one of those things where the club is a popular Saturday night disco, and we play before. Except the disco plays indie rock, so, we could have easily played as the first part of the disco. You see, it's too expensive for kids to drink in bars so they stay home until way late, drinking at home. Meaning: we play at 11, and the people show up at 12. Why not put us on at 12? I think the audience would have loved us. However, not to complain--we did have a good crowd, but man, when I walked in and Jim Protector was playing at 9.30, there were like 20 people there. So we waited until 11, but by the time we were *done* the place was packed. Ah well. It was still a great show, and we had some great hardcores up front singing with every word again! But, sort of hard to beat Haugesund, that was pure magic. But then again, we probably played even *better* in Stavanger to rise to the challenge. And we had some hot dancers, male and female. So, good night! I joined Jim Protector on 'Shields Down'...haha, Alex messed up the song big time in the second chorus, I think I knew it better than he did!! We payed a nice visit to the SHIT boutique and did some shopping...look for a Disciplines deck soon. After the show, I rolled the merch home (a big wheeled duffel bag) to the hotel, and saw Stavanger on a Saturday night. The harbor which intersects the town and is lined with bars and restaurants was filled with catastophically drunk Norwegians. I saw girls sobbing uncontrollably, guys passing out cold in the middle of the street (quickly scooped up by the local police). This kind of thing. The elevators in our hotel stopped working from overuse, potted plants were smashed in the stairs, it was, to put it in simple terms, Hell on Earth. But, we headed to Tango, the hip new bar and eatery near the club, where my friend Johan was DJing (Johan is co owner of SHIT and has two lovely little twin bambinos I got to hold that afternoon). We saw the JP guys out on the street, they were too drunk to get in here (evidently one of them pissed in a cowboy hat backstage at the club). The restaurant at Tango is superb, we had dinner there before the show. All of a sudden the place was cloing, tho--I had taken like two sips of my champagne. So, we decamped next door to Cementen, the door guy had us jump the queue (rock star parking). The bar was packed, and was just a beer waiting to spill on me, but Bjorn discovered the music room, where there was a full on 60's Soul/R&B dance party in progress...this being the ONLY kind of music I like to dance to, and it was AWESOME. Bjorn and I, and the very drunk Steinar and Alex from Jim Protector danced to the sweet soul music til 3am...the drunkards dropping out of the race early (Alex kept dropping absolutely full beers on the floor!). It was still going strong when my post-Disciplines show legs had had it, and I walked out, soaked in sweat, into the cool night. The most fun I'd had in a long time, and was sober and feeling great. In the morning the sun was out again, and there wasn't a soul visible on the whole waterfront--I can see it all from my hotel window--that had been packed with inebriated humanity just a few hours before. Love KS Stavanger NORWAY
9.09.2008
I uploaded tons of new images to the photos section! OSLO, 9/3 We spent the day getting new clothes and running around town doing other preparatory things, but, really, in the end, how do you prepare for such a thing as playing one of these big shows? OK, we’ve done big shows before, festivals, this kind of thing. But, playing with my old homies in REM was an evening guaranteed to stimulate all kinds of feelings in me. Of course, first off, there’s the old home week reunion feeling—seeing all my friends on the crew and and the guys themselves. And, as glad as I am that fate led me to have the summer free for the Disciplines, it’s hard to here about the exotic destinations—Lithuania, Istanbul, Bogota—and know you’re missing out on that. And just the fun of being part of that great band’s vibe and be on such a big, winning team. All of those thing affected me, I’ll be honest—I’m only human. But, let’s look at the positives. That I’m no longer a part of REM’s touring band (for the moment, anyway—nothing is permanent) appears to be in no way due to some fuckup on my part. It wasn’t because I said the wrong thing, or made myself a nuisance, or played terribly. All have gone out of their way to say that I’m missed, appreciated, and respected. In fact, being that I was there as an invited artist, friend and colleague. PLUS, I am in much better mental and physical shape than I have ever been—and this is obvious to anyone looking. I do regret one thing, in that I wish I could have gone thru life—not just 7 years of REM, but certainly inclusive of such—with clear eyes, clear thoughts, and clear priorities. The show: we did a great job, really. The crowd, a typical midweek Oslo (sober) crowd, were shy, and we got them going big time. The venue, a cow barn called Valhall, is awful sounding, but we managed (thanks to our FOH engineer Christophe) to sound great. We were a little under rehearsed, but, it didn’t seem to matter much, we have played these shows enough to know what we’re doing. REM’s crew were incredibly accommodating, so we had a proper soundcheck etc. So, show—and reaction—good. REM also invited me up for the encore to play guitar and sing on ‘At My Most Beautiful’ and piano and sing on ‘Man on the Moon’. Michael was really cool here, I could really get a sense that he was happy to see me developed into a fuller person, and to have grown, his introduction for me to come onstage was full of warmth; really, the vibe was familial, as that is how an organization like REM, which has had many people working together for years and years, becomes. I’m rambling, but my thoughts here are not in a tidy order…just watching REM gave me all kinds of feelings—pride, sadness, joy—my emotions were destinations on a wheel of fortune in constant agitation. The effect of a show like that, the magnitude of all it all, it’s easy to get drawn in to it’s immense gravitational field. But, there was the lesson. Horoscopes. Please! But Dom read me one recently that was telling me of a fork in the road. I got it then—I had to see the path that wouldn’t give me instant gratification—the world travel, the massive audiences, the business class flights. I had to take the one that would build a deeper satisfaction. Not even with the band, but a journey where having too much access to money, esteem, bravos, etc. would be an impediment. I have to earn and create something totally new. However—I did get to play a couple of songs with REM, and this was done with great love from both sides, so I can’t really feel left out—plus we were there, right? BERGEN, 9/4 Dom and I opted to fly. We had a nice evening at REM’s hotel chatting with Michael and David Belisle, REM’s assistant and photgrapher. David took the promo photos for the Posies for the campaign for our last album. And, he’s published a wonderful book called “Hello”, which features his beautiful shots of REM on the road and at home. I’m in some amazing shots, including a glorious one of me playing with Neil Young…it’s published by Chronicle Books, who always make great music/art books. Anyway, we got to Bergen. I had been lazy and hadn’t gotten around to booking a hotel for Dom & I, and everything was booked up by the time I started calling last week, except for the Radisson SAS Royal, which is (expensive and) 100 meters from the venue. Lucky! The place has a pool, which I used to get some exercise the morning after the show, and a Nespresso machine in the business class rooms (like ours) which did nothing but spray boiling hot water on my desk, and swallowed the coffee capsule while producing absolutely nothing of coffee value. The venue here was an enclosure near an old castle in the old part of Bergen. Dom discovered a wonderful deserted train that would be great for a photo shoot. Our dressing room was in one of the buildings on site, on the third floor, which gave us a perfect view of the REM show (this night they played ‘Harborcoat’, I’d been dreaming of them playing that song—and in Oslo they played ‘West of the Fields’!). Our show: even better, WAY better than Oslo. We always look better in daylight, I don’t know why. But we were more comfortable and Bergen is probably our best city. So, we played better, looked better, and got an even better reaction from the immense (20,000) crowd. I split my lip on the mic at one point and had blood streaming down my face. Yes!! And, in REM’s show, I did *three* songs! Fun. The next day, Dom, Claus and I flew back to Oslo. Dom and I almost missed our flight—the bus from BGO to our hotel took 30 minutes, but for some reason the same trip back to BGO takes an hour, so we arrived to BGO at 14.30 for out 15h flight. But we were fine. Back in Oslo we stocked up on groceries and Tim Wendelboe coffee for the bus…then chilled at Claus’ haus til it was time to board the bus at midnight for the trip to Copenhagen. I needed contact lens solution, and had to visit the scary all night pharmacy by the train station (i.e., get yer works here inc’.). COPENHAGEN, 9/6 We got to the venue at about 10am. We have one bus driver, so he is required to stop and rest every few hours. I agree with this policy! Although I have to admit, it was amazing to tour Canada in 1995 with driver Bob Penny, who drove nonstop from Halifax to Toronto! 1790km! We waited until noon, which is when we had been told that REM’s setup would be established enough for us to be able to access the venue without being in the way. Showering in the crew showers, getting my Aeropress set up for some great coffee, ironing some clean clothes, all in the grand project of restoring one’s humanity. Tonight’s show: even BETTER. This venue is an enormous indoor stadium, and it was packed. We played a brilliant show. Really! REM’s caterer Toni had slipped me some oysters, so maybe that had something to do with it…but we really connected and played a great set. We got some local journalists drunk, which is part of the grand strategy, and I rocked out with REM. Funny, since Bergen I had been invited to play, among the other songs, “It’s the End of the World As We Know It” on guitar. But this night, I ran back to the piano, to what would have been my normal position 1998-2005. Haha! Again, a very respectful and heartfelt intro from Michael. I can’t help but feel like he’s really applauding my maturation into a complete adult… STOCKHOLM, 9/7 Another post-bus, look-for-shower, crawl. Bigger dressing room this time, and not sharing showers with the entire crew meant less wait time! Slowly got it together. In the afternoon we all went to Stockholm’s greatest record store, Pet Sounds, to do an instore performance, Bjorn on acoustic guitar and me singing, no PA. The store was busy, having resumed its Sunday hours with the re-entry of the students to the neighborhood (the same neighborhood where I recorded the bulk of Soft Commands in 2003). A few people were there to see us, and then mostly just Sunday shoppers. In other words, a potentially awkward situation, and surely a few people were totally scared off by some weirdo just singing out of nowhere, but most folks were into it, and we sold some records afterwards (this is good!). Then, back to the venue, and we got ready for the show. The Globe Arena is in fact a sphere, white with spaceship windows on the outside, red on the inside. I played with REM here in 2005. I can’t say it’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and this egg nests in a particularly socialist democrat architectural milieu. And, we were introducing ourselves to shy Swedes…but hell! This was the best show yet. I learned a few tricks from watching Michael (like—include slow moves for the people in back). Tho the reviews of the REM show in the Swedish papers chastised the typically hard-to-motivate Stockholm crowd, I thought they were great for us—there are quite a few REM fan club members traveling to multiple shows, and they are now fired up for us each night! I have been pointing out the guy in the Obama shirt to the crowd at every opportunity. We are now confident enough that we can mix up the set list now without fear, and thus we’ve managed to play all the songs on our album over our various 9 song sets. So, verdict: this show rocked, and didn’t ruin my knees like Copenhagen! After the show, we had friends backstage, including Lise, my bandmates’ former bandmate. My job is always to play the heavy, being the Tour Manager, we’re not supposed to mix our guests in the REM guest area…and of course, try corralling drunk Norwegians/Danes/Swedes…my plan to have almost zero alcohol backfired…my guys run out to the beer stands and restock. Oh well. No casualties… Another great REM guest appearance mini-set in the encore, with the very nice intro from Michael, and after the show I basically collected everyone’s luggage after my bandmates and crew (!) ran off to party with the Editors at Berns hotel. This morning, we were up at 7 to board the ferry to Helsinki, some of us more bleary-eyed than others hehe. We trumped down the stairs (there are 9 floors on this boat, well, actually there are 11 but the top two are for crew only) since at boarding time the elevators are impossible to snag. Basically, the trip takes 11 hours+, (plus a one-hour time change when we reach Finnish waters). We picked at shrimp sandwiches, watched the atrocious ‘Mamma Mia’ in the little cinema, and…Dom & I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary…again, it was simply great to see how far we’ve come and how much we’ve grown. I did manage to do a recording session, too—I sang on a Minus 5 song, in Scott McOi’s luxury cabin! People gave us beer/wine/champagne for our anniv., and we were all right jolly when we finally pulled in to Turku, all of REM and Disciplines, band and crew. Another night on the bus, and the last REM show tomorrow…what joys await! Love KS Turku, FINLAND
9.01.2008
To my extreme delight, the bad weather forecast for Ile de Re at the beginning of last week never came. In fact, it was blazing hot Monday and Tuesday and I took full advantage, spending hours on the beach, swimming with Aden, and digging holes in the sand. I played hooky from email for three whole days. Three days! Dom joined me Tuesday night late and we flew to London the next morning. The day we flew was without question a day that would be better spent at a beach than under the permanent overcast conditions of the UK, but, it was too late to reprogram history at that point. We walked out in the pure apricot-colored sunshine on the tarmac at the amusingly small Aeroport La Rochelle-Ile de Re, and sat in the front row of our EasyJet flight to Gatwick. At present, LRH is only served by RyanAir (flying to Stansted and Dublin), EasyJet (flying to Gatwick and Bristol), Flybe (flying to Manchester) and the unimaginatively named Airlinair (flying to Lyon). In theory RyanAir or EasyJet also flies to Glasgow but I can’t find any evidence of that—anyway, last year, when I traveled to Glasgow, I had to do it in two steps: RyanAir to Stansted, and then on to GLA with EasyJet. Boring, eh? I am an unabashed planespotter. After the safety demonstration on board, our captain seemed to take great delight in describing the pea soup summer-in-quotes conditions awaiting us on Blighty. At length. You could hear the groans up and down the aisle. We descended thru the very opacity described by our skipper and adjusted to the midafternoon gloom. Formalities were taken care of, luggage claimed, and we boarded the train to Victoria. Really, looking at London’s grimmest architecture, the oppressive clouds…we were in shock. We checked in to the K West hotel, the hipster watering hole that also happens to house bands on a regular basis. True, it is extremely good if you are playing Shepherd’s Bush Empire, which, well…we were! But, for a hotel that stakes its career on catering to preening little bitches (rock musicians), it sure left a few things to be desired. However, it is a spa hotel with 24 hour room service, and the beds are good, the products are Aveda, and the bathrup is nice n’ long (hotels in the UK are universally good at least at getting the bathtub done right—long and deep). There was functioning Ethernet in the room—I think in a decent hotel this should be standard—guests shouldn’t have to be subject to positioning around the wifi hub, and in dense, serpentine hotel buildings, wifi is never evenly distributed—Murphy vs. World, 1806, set the legal precedent with the modern result that the more time you have to finally catch up on mail, the less reliable the system will be; the one place you will be able to get wifi will be guaranteed to be isolated from any power outlets, etc. But here at K West, although a bit spendy at 15 quid a day, the net worked very well. I had called ahead to check our res. was Ok, and check in went smoothly. I was the first to arrive, so I could make sure everyone would have no problems accessing their rooms (the first leg of Jody’s flight had been delayed as to make getting his second leg impossible, so the airline put him on the next day’s flight—which meant, he would be arriving at 9am on the day of the show. His office had called to cancel his room for tonight, but I reinstated the res., knowing that if he arrived at, say, 11, there would be little chance of him having anywhere to go. It turned out to be a very good TM move on my part!). When I had checked the res. over the phone, I asked if there were ironing boards and irons in the rooms (very important for us dandy rockers). I asked again when I checked in. Yes, of course, they said, each time. But there wasn’t one in mine. The sad truth is, my room also smelled of mold when you entered—but I was so busy and needed to jump online and not be off that I didn’t want to go thru changing rooms. I just sent Dom out to get incense! Next started the ordeal of getting an ironing board and iron delivered. Calls were placed. Nothing was delivered. Eventually we had to go. I met Tim Hole, who is a manager etc., for a café in the lobby, and we proceeded over to a rehearsal studio just around the corner from Shepherd’s Bush Empire. And here, I did a 4.5 hour preproduction session with a great band called The Boy The Girl And All The World, avg. age about 20, who Tim works with. Basically, I went thru and helped arrange and tighten up two tracks for a potential single. I had heard a half dozen of their songs and loved the band; in the end, we worked on two new songs that they played for me, songs I heard for the first time right then and there. The band are incredibly talented, have a great work ethic, and were extremely cool for letting basically a complete stranger come in and rearrange their music. After we were done, I was pretty burnt, but I managed one last drink at the K West, and then crashed. LONDON, 8/28 Our rate for the hotel, booked online, was really quite good, and included ‘FEB’. This is the Full English Breakfast, which is more than I really need, but, not knowing the continental was available in the bar, we did our duty and sat in the restaurant. One funny bit: K West has a deal with Starbucks to serve their coffee. Your take away coffees from the bar will come in a Starbucks takeaway cup. However, at least in the drip coffeemaker, I saw the bartender (all bar staff at K West is required to be extremely thin, good looking – i.e., er, not likely to be from England ahahaa—females, preferably with accents like Sophia Loren or Zsa Zsa Gabor) loading in Nescafe to the machine. I spent the day getting things like the guest list together for the show. AND as tour manager (eerily similar to my iron dilemma) I get to solve crises like this: despite the check and double check on the phone, when my backliner went to pick up the gear, the rental company had given us the wrong cymbals, something for a light jazz set rather than the heavy stuff Jody needs. Nothing else in house. I had to call around to rental companies to find the right stuff, at extra cost and wasting an hour of time, making the set up tensed and rushed, and I will DEFINITELY be posting on this blog to see how the rental company deals with this. The Ting Tings: this is absolute, Kylie Minogue vs. Toni & Guy advert BOLLOCKS. If you have been hearing about them, and it’s being presented to you like it’s art rock, DO NOT BE FOOLED. This is major label b.s., another dose of drab pabulum, that happens, for the next 18 seconds, to be vaguely stylish. Fucked art, left to dance. Eventually cymbals were sorted, gear was loaded in, band members either walked or were driven to Shepherd’s Bush Empire. What an incredible venue. I had been here to see the magnificent recital of Oddessey and Oracle by the surviving Zombies earlier this year, and was thinking quite often “holy crap, this will be amazing when we play here”. And I wasn’t disappointed. This was a brilliant and inspiring venue. And run with great efficiency and thoughtfulness. We got our backline up, and commenced to soundcheck, me trying to put my fingers back in Big Star mode. Alex produced some sheet music, and proudly announced he had arranged Elgar’s ‘Pomp and Circumstance #4’ for us to play—I told him I’d need to run thru it on my own a few times.
As we were running a bit late, and we needed to let Robyn Hitchcock get set up, we ran thru a couple more things and then it was time to clear off—up until we went on I was totally going full speed: sorting the guest list, fielding calls from guests who weren’t sorted to the level they thought they should be (or that jet-lagged Jody had written down the wrong last name!), running thru the Elgar piece, trying to be friendly to people who stopped by the dressing room even tho I was totally stressing, and actually meeting with a colleague in all of this. Unfortunately, I had to miss most of Robyn’s set, and really only spoke to him for a few moments, despite the fact he’s one of my favorite people ever. I was genuinely nervous for this show—really, it was because I knew I hadn’t been able to properly prepare and I would be winging it during the show. But, as soon as we walked out onstage (Alex unconvinced by the stage manager’s request to wait for the house lights to go down) and I saw those tiers of 1500 fans, I was OK and the music just happened, found its way out of my memory and on to the neck of my bass, and all was well. It was a magical show, IMHO. Alex was funny and charming. Jody was barely hanging on with exhaustion, but he played superbly well. Even ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ was eventually majestic, after the first go ‘round. For an encore we did ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ and that was it…I went up to the dressing room and popped the champagne. It was truly surreal to have played to over a thousand strangers, and have them be so into it, and not owe them a thing afterwards. We finished off the night with a couple of drinks at K West, with a few friends—and some fans from the show. One guy introduced himself and was so coked up he was holding on to me like he was being blown by a hurricane and I was the only tree in sight! I managed to avoid temptation, TYVM! CLAPHAM, 8/29 Slept in. I happened to go for a walk and came across our van, parked by a gas station in the neighborhood, and scared the shit out of Tim our tech who was dazing off into the distance when I put my face on the window and made some noise! Haha. We hit the road, and stopped 40 yards later, as I forgot something in my room! Then it was almost 3 hours of winding our way out of London, past some of the worst zoning on earth—I mean, London apartment blocks are depressing enough, but there are those that face the busy London road that leads to the M1. And the greyness…argh. Eventually we passed thru the maze that is Bedford, and found our way to Twinwood. Twinwood was an air base in WWII, and served, among other things, as the point of arrival and departure for USO performers, as the BBC had been moved out to Bedfordshire. They held concerts in the amphitheatre there—Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Bob Hope, and…Glenn Miller, who was last seen taking off from Twinwood. Many of the base’s buildings are still there, and the whole area, also a farm, is owned privately by a family who use the amphitheatre to hold things like the Rhythm Festival. Essentially an oldies show, really, for the locals. We were preceeded onstage by Memphis legend Steve Cropper being backed by the Animals (one day they woke to find themselves Burdon-less), which was weird and cool. Steve plays a Peavey guitar!! This show was a bit odd—we were the headliner, but after Stevanimal’s set, most of the crowd went off to see Chas and Dave on the small stage. Most folks didn’t seem to know who we were, even the ones remaining. I mean, we played fine, but it was kind of anticlimactic after playing to the enraptured London crowd. The highlight was the soul revue goodbye during ‘Mine Exclusively’ when everyone took solos… this is YouTubed and it is awesome! VIENNA, 8/31 We were dropped back in London late that night after the show—somehow there was a massive traffic jam going back to London at 1am. Harsh. I was up at 7, and had arranged an unlicensed cab to take me to Heathrow (only £29!). My driver was from Montenegro, we chatted about Balkan politics for the ride, which was only about 35 minutes. You’ve all heard the nightmares about Terminal 5, but they have worked out the bugs and in fact I found it very pleasant, not too crowded and quite friendly. I think British are working hard on their customers. The in-flight service was top notch, and we were even served a meal, on a two-hour flight to Vienna. Impressive! And the flight was something like $300, not bad for a major carrier, really. Also, my suitcase made it, if you were wondering. A huge Merc picked me up, and ushered me to the Schloss Wilhelminenberg, an 18th-century hunting estate that is now a luxury hotel with an incredible view of Vienna, sitting as it does on a hill quite high, but directly adjacent to the modern city. I checked in, and immediately got to work booking flights for a just-booked Disciplines show for the end of this months (tba soon).
What was the gig? Not your typical show, but the wedding of Doris and Bernhard, a lovely couple that happen to be KS fans. Doris has her degree in mathematics, and now computes risks related things for an insurance co; Bernhard is an ENT doc—a good guy to know! His family, believe it or not, vacations each year at La Rochelle, having bought a flat there. So, we are summer neighbors, and I will hope to see them there in the future! Now, playing a wedding is a special thing. And in the context of such a thing, my songs can be quite, well, intensely apropos, really! When I finally did play my set, after the dinner, and after the band had played awhile (friends of the couple happen to have a cover band, it was great fun to dance to everything from Elvis to Robbie Williams covers), I found it overwhelming, and was of course barely able to play between sobs! Haha! It was wonderful, really, a very nice feeling. The hotel was hosting two big weddings that day, in fact, and the other wedding involved a massive fireworks display that we all rushed out to watch, and then we resumed for more sobs! My voice wavered like a grandma’s, but it was all in good spirit, and the audience was with me, not a dry eye in the house I think. After that, I was exhausted, but wanted to stay and enjoy the party, stuff my face with petits-fours, and dance to the band. Finally we all wore down, and I was able to get some decent sleep in my castle suite. Next day I watched the somewhat ludicrous Billy Wilder film ‘Ace in the Hole’…tried to resist eating the doggie box of petits-fours the couple had given me. Many of us from the wedding had breakfast on the terrace looking over the city, and as I went to the airport, I really had the impression summer was giving it’s grand goodbye, it was a glorious day.
One delayed flight later, and I was back home in Paris, and have ever since been sword-fighting thru millions of emails, hotel bookings, rececipts, phone calls, and what not.
Next up: REM tour!
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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