Ken Stringfellow dot calm

9.29.2009

As you read last week, I was deep into the sessions producing the album for Twice. Long hours, LOTS of cigarette smoke (not me, but everyone else), no ventilation, no sleep, hot equipment, damp basement, 7.30 wake up to get Aden to school...it started to get a bit heavy. Results were good, great even--I really feel I successfully transformed their raw material into a mature, emotional, interesting, and cool record. They have all the ingredients, but I helped bring out some things that were a bit underplayed--esp. the emotion of the vocals, and a certain amount of variety and sophistication in the music, but w/o stepping on the fact that they have a minimalist element that should be respected. Now, by Tuesday, the last day of this session, I was officially feeling like yesterday’s dog crap. Oh, BTW, the street that the studio is on wins an award for the most diverse filth in the shortest possible stretch--a souffle of dog shit, marbled with black tar-like striations, slowly melting over the days, always covered in flies; a dead mouse; urine-soaked newspaper, very pungent; a broken jar of cornichons (tiny pickles), its full contents and the vinegar mixing with the above; a pair of black socks with some kind of white crust adhered to them; and, oddly, several empty shells of bulot, the whelks that we commonly eat on Ile de Re. All of this within 5 freaking feet of gutter.Anyway, on the last day of the studio, I was sniffling, and coughing, and doing that pathetic ritual of thinking that this time, over-the-counter meds might actually do something. Of course the day was long, we were making rough mixes til almost 3am. Again, the results are good, I’m really happy with how it’s going, and I was able to be productive between industrial-grade loogies. So, I was dropped off at my place by the band, and I went to bed for an hour or two. At 6, I was up again, getting ready to go to the airport. The girls actually got up to see me off, which was sweet, at 7 (there’s no school on Wednesdays in France, so this was a gesture of considerable effort) and 45 minutes later I was sound asleep in the taxi as we pulled into Terminal 2. So asleep I was actually dreaming.  
Check in was a breeze. I really wanted to sleep. I picked up some extremely fine champagne at duty free to deliver as a birthday present for Jon Auer, who turns 40 this week. I crawled into my seat, found I had the two seat exterior section to myself, and that the selection of movies on American Airlines was truly rancid, and fell asleep for 8 glorious hours. I spent one hour in the middle listening to the rough mixes and other demos that I needed to catch up on. Other than that...droolsville. My cold was not getting better, unfortunately. So...when we landed in Miami, it was hell on my ears. Arghhh. My whole head felt like I had The Blob stuck to it. I went thru the immigration and customs rituals (my ritual is to as quickly mention my association with REM and Neil Young as possible...”welcome back, Have a nice day. Keep on rockin’ in the...” ) I had to run my guitar up to check in again, they wouldn’t take oversize at the regular bag re-check, but then I found, to my relief actually, that my flight to Charlotte was delayed. So, no need to rush. No wifi, however. Hmm. and no plug converter, so my US phone couldn’t get a charge, and it was dead. Not much to do. A young gal waiting for the same flight struck up a conversation with me, she was sweet. Barely out of her teens, with a baby from one man, and a new husband serving in Kuwait for 7 months, she calmly told me the arc of her short story. I admired her coolheadedness in one way, but thought....isn’t it more normal to freak out? I know it would be for me. I guess she’d done her share too. And she was moving forward.

Eventually our tiny little jet landed in Charlotte, a city that from the air definitely has an Emerald Forest/Oz vibe--it’s in the woods, all of it, except for what looks like 6 square-block concentration of 50-story bank HQs. A collection of middle fingers to average home owners and taxpayers, some would say. I was shocked that the banking class was unabashed about revving their Maseratis in public in Charlotte.

Well, a Posies/KS fan, Kara, had offered to be my welcome wagon for Charlotte--asking me what I would like to have organized, I unhesitatingly requested barbecue and tennis partners, and she came thru no prob.; picking me up at the airport, we headed straight to Max’s Speed King, a biker-themed joint with a big patio, live bluegrass band, and beef ribs, KC-style, which is hitting me right where I live. She hooked me up with a tennis partener, too, but since I was ill I had to bag out on that one. Pity. I had hauled by sticks over in case. Kara took me around for yet more useless OTC supplies, and to get a charger for my phone, and then dropped me at the hotel. Unf. with her kids’ ealry morning schedules she ended up not being able to come to the show, but I really have to thank her for her kindness on getting me orientated in my 45-hour visit to Charlotte.

Once at the hotel, I was really up for going straight to bed, but I also really wanted to see the Books. I made it easy on myself, I took a cab down and arrived late (just walked in the front door of the venue, no one was charging anymore) but saw the last 5 or 6 pieces, and really enjoyed it. Acoustic guitar, cello, and elaborate video projections. They have vocals, too, which I didn’t notice much of on the sole record of theirs I have. As soon as they were done, I hopped a cab back to the hotel, watched a movie, and drifted off.

CHARLOTTE, 9/24

I spent the day in bed, with exceptions. I took all three of my meals (and bought breakfast for the next day) from the Panera that was around the corner. Walking there was amusing in the sense that here I was in a major US city, and the difference in scale of the buildings between there and Paris is comical--I mean, the average drive-in espresso in America is the size of a Best Buy. Everything is so freakin’ HUGE. And beige. In the 12-minute walk to Panera (pretty much the only thing in the area) I passed like three buildings. In the same walk in Paris, I would have passed like 18.

One of the festival organizers was kind enough to take me to the Doctor, I found an ENT clinic recommended by my Insurance, that was close-ish to the hotel. Doc confirmed I had a little ear infection but would be OK to fly and gave me a prescription for antibiotics and, my favorite, cortisone. There was hope yet.

I remained in bed until the last possible minute. At 9.30 that nite I headed down to meet Jon, and festival organizer James Deem, in the lobby to head over. Jill Sobule was there, too, having just arrived for her performance the next day. I hadn’t seen her since we worked together 6 years ago, so that was nice, even if I discovered much to my horror that despite my day in bed or perhaps because of it, with all the meds and germs in my head, I was spaced out and not really on top of m game, even walking in a straight line was slightly beyond me. How was I going to pull this off?

We got to the venue, an enormous lecture hall/auditorium, finding Mike Viola working thru his set, which meant that even tho it was almost 10.30, there was still yet another band, Miracle Brah, yet to go on. So, I had time to pray and drink water, and focus. Miracle Brah were quite good, actually...so, they finished and now it had to be more like 11.30, I had lost track, in any case. Jon & I set up our stuff and kicked into it. Other than the first song I sang, Love Letter Boxes, which has lots of falsetto, I was totally fine. My voice was even strong, I could belt out Any Other Way and other heavy hitters no problem. I was focused, and able to crack plenty of good jokes. The back story of the Charlotte Pop Fest is that it is in conjunction with a film festival and also a lecture by scientist Richard Dawkins. So my opening salvo was to note what an honor it was to appear in association with someone so influential in the cultural landscape--”not just for his work on Family Feud, but his fine work in Hogan’s Heroes as well.” Haha. Big laughs. Well, we worked in some truly ridiculous stuff--making Miracle Brah guitarist Cliff Hillis play the drum kit (which had no snare at that point) with his hands, I can’t remember everything we did but I know it was ridiculous, and I know he was a good sport. There’s that phenomenon which I report after every Posies reunion--that these songs, and the way of playing and singing with Jon, is something so ingrained in me, after 20+ years, that even under less than ideal circumstances, and with no rehearsal, it fires back up as something powerful and strong. Every time.

After the show, the venue cleared pretty quick--it was 1am on a Thursday. I had the chance to meet two of the Alternative Champs; I’ve been a fan of theirs for years, since I heard their wonderful “Swimming in a Pool” on a compilation in 2004-ish. Great guys. Then I went to bed.

I then flew the next afternoon to Philly (again, no wifi, what gives?) and from there to Madrid.

OURENSE, 9/26

I landed in the morning in Madrid, and caught my flight to Vigo, and was met at the airport by Luis, who I’ve been running into at shows for some time. An amateur musician and professional architectural draftsman, Luis has been promising to bring me to Galicia for some time, and here we had the opportunity to make good on the concept. So, post-recording session, post-USA visit, post-illness, I was really feeling extra-terrestrial when I landed in Vigo and we headed off to Ourense (aka Orense). Galicia as it turns out has its own language, which is basically Portuguese pronounced in Spanish fashion. Portugal and Galicia were one kingdom long ago, but in modern, European Union times, Portugal and Galicia have been re-exploring their common history. Ourense has Roman roots; its most famous feature is its old bridge, built on Roman foundations and now features its medieval update. Well, we settled in, and eventually headed to the show. The show was in a tiny bar, and by the fact it was indeed in a tiny bar, it was sold out in advance, and full of people simply ready for a great show. So, it was easy to provide one--just follow the will of the audience, and it will be a great show. The bar was small enough that no PA was needed, except to amplify the piano, and even that was bypassed when the cables connecting the piano turned out to be faulty--I just plugged in to the guitar amp and continued, singing into the air. A program of well over two hours kept the people’s attention, and then some. Since Damien Jurado was coming to this venue, I did a tiny medley of “Ohio” and “Letters & Drawings”. “God Only Knows” was requested, and I really didn’t have to do any of the singing, it was provided. When I did “Ask Me No Questions” a girl in the audience was actually singing along--that’s going deep. All were happy, as far as I could tell. The venue owners hugged me several times, so this must be good!

O GROVE, 9/27

The next morning Luis and I joined a friend, Juan, and his friend Fernando, for 2 hours of doubles on Juan’s private court. Juan is a local tennis legend and a great player and instructor, and was happy to play down to our level. The air was cool when we started, but the direct sun was actually fierce. So naturally I crashed for the drive to O Grove, missing some scenery but needing some Zed’s. We checked into the hotel and I stumbled around, post-sickness, post-international flights, post-tennis, post 2.5 hour show...well, I felt like I was taking animal tranquilizer on a drip. But I shook it off and we headed to the beach. After searching around we found a quiet little bay and took a stretch of sand as our spot, and did some swimming in the icy, but absolutely clear water. Eventually we got cleaned up at the hotel and met Nano, the owner of the Vinilo Bar, for an epic dinner of mariscos--necorinos, which are velvety swimmer crabs; enormous mussels; sliced octopus; small clams cooked in carmelized onions and white wine. All washed down with Albarino (sorry, blogger does not work with tildes). Wow. I had better do a good show after a big meal like that.

And, I did. I also made sure, even tho very few people saw all three shows, to make the set lists very different. Sunday nite in O Grove, a town of let’s say 15,000-20,000, is a tough one, but we brought some people out for sure--and then my quiet show pretty much nailed them to the wall, no body ordered a drink for the next hour and a half, I think. Nano was kind of bummed about that. But, hey, I didn’t make them shy. They had to work the next day, too. However, I would like to say that this was a great show--just a little more mellow than the ones on either side of it...

VIGO, 9/28

This day tells me why I love Mondays. Why my job is the greatest. We took our time getting up and checking out of the hotel. Walked down to the harbor to have croissants and cafe. Drove to an absolutely breathtaking connected string of beaches. Over all, a mile of sand, which we were obliged to share with about 8 people. Again, the water is frigid, but the sun is strong, so it feels great to dunk and then dry off. We also explored the ruins of Our Lady of Sorrows, an ancient church built within the even more ancient ruins that take over a headland. Something very Irish about it--and remember, the Galicians were Celtic people.
On the way to Vigo, we stopped then in Portonovo for lunch--more necorinos, and some squirty percebes, which are large gooseneck barnacles. The neck’s exterior is a future fabric that feels like nylon; you detach it from the head and inside is the soft flesh of the animal. It’s also filled with liquid so you end up, by pressing on the thing when you try and open it (oh, they are boiled BTW this is not vivisection) you get barnacle nectar in your face, on the table next to you, etc. Funny stuff. I was obliged to drink 90% of our bottle of wine, too, since Luis was driving. So, once again...nap time.   When I woke up, we were in Vigo, and Fernando, one of my tennis friends from the previous day, was pulling up to meet us and take me to another match, singles, followed by a an hour and a half group lesson. Which took the place of soundcheck (I don’t really need much of one anyway) but not dinner, so after showering up in my groovy modern hotel, I met Luis for a plate of Spanish charcuterie, cheese, and a local specialty of very thin slices of pork in a spicy sauce. Delish. Then we walked to the venue--we had already received the call that the support band was finished. But we were only ten minutes away. I arrived, which is what you do at La Casa de Arriba, and went upstairs to the showroom to find it was totally jammed, everyone sitting on the floor in anticipation...so I set up, ditched the PA, put the piano on the floor next to everyone, and proceeded to rock the house for three hours, minus a ten minute intermission I included so people could stretch their legs. To make this third show unique I...put in maximum effort, pushing and playing with the melodies, pulling out old and new songs, moving guitar songs to the piano and vice versa. I played covers, Posies songs, and in honor of support band Maryland, who are super fans, I improvised a little song called ‘Baltimore’ (you had to be there), and did many weird jams on the piano, on the mic...I rapped the intro to “Known Diamond”...just went on and on. I emptied all three of my albums, and new songs, and god knows what. They tried to turn the house music on at the end, I shut ‘em down, got everyone to stand up and come in close, and closed the evening with an a capella version of ‘Nature Boy’. Woah.

Now we’re headed to my flight in Porto and had the pleasant realization that we’ll gain an hour by crossing the border into GMT. So, time for lunch near the Porto airport. A successful conclusion to the ‘Galicia Keys’ tour 2009!

Love
KS
Route A55 near Portuguese border

9.19.2009

This is going to be short. Sorry. Long long long hours in studio with Twice, producing their album. In the mornings I am still up at 7.30-8 to get Aden to school, even tho I get out of the studio as late as 2. It's been going extremely well, the studio, Tango Zoulou, is a but unusual, but not for Paris--meaning, parts of it are in the basement and parts of it are not; lots of running up and down stairs. Henry, who is engineering the sessions is just the same kind of nutcase as me when it comes to stringing up elaborate setups to get new and freaky sounds. Kevin, our drum programmer is awesome and brings always a voice of calm perspective to the sessions. We are making a record with a band that's two people--guitarist Anders and vocalist Margot. So, how things can go is really open...which is both the great freedom and also the great challenge of this recording--we have to define the band here. They are a guitar band, but with no drummer they have always used drum machine loops...so they teeter between rock and electro. I think we have fallen just on the side of electro, but I am doing my best to keep the rock fully represented. In fact, what the band is is something new, and that's what keeps music moving forward. They are really kind people, too. You could be friends with folks like that.

It's also true that sometimes in the morning, I have been mixing Oh Libia, for like 30-45 min. some days. Rock around the clock.

On that note, that gives you an idea of how badly I need to sleep. Ahhhhh.

Love
KS
Paris

9.14.2009

I continued to blaze away at the top of the week on the Oh, Libia! mixing--realizing that some of the songs were really ambitious, and that I wasn’t going to finish the record in 4 days hahah! One song in particular was a real art project--we recorded the song more or less live, and added a vocal--then we put the tape at half speed (so one octave down but sloooooow) and recorded a vocal that went with the slow speed...when they ran the tapes off to digital they gave me both the 7.5 ips version and the 15ips version. And from here I edited the two together, making a new song out of that--plus choosing which of the ten minutes of music should be edited out, making the final piece less than 5 minutes long--but a real journey in 5 min.

On the other songs there were vocals, bass, percussion, guitar and keyboards to add, to augment these already quite diverse 8 track recordings.

Monday night I had time to run down to Le Motel and have a hello with Gerry from Teenage Fanclub--in town playing with the Pastels, the after show was at my local. Stephen was spinning records. By chance or no, “Frus”, the 17-year-old guitarist/singer in Oh Libia is obsessed with the Pastels...

UDDEVALLA, 9/9

I got up at 6.30 and was out the door just a little late for comfort, at 7.45, but that was made up for by the fact that I found a cab on my street in just a few minutes and was heading to CDG. I fly to Scandinavia a lot, and thus it’s programmed in my subroutines to beeline to Terminal 1, the past-it- prime concrete doughnut. I paid the man, and started to head to check in area 4, home base of SAS. Looking up on the board, however, it seems my flight was absent. A D’oh of epic proportions ensued--I was flying on freaking Air France today. Terminal 2G. So, I quickly headed downstairs and caught the CDG metro train, which goes to Terminal 2, and followed the signs for 2G, which led...up to the surface, and then...the trail went dead. Til about ten seconds later, when a bus marked ‘Terminal 2G’ pulled up. Turns out this is a new terminal, quite far removed from the rest of the sprawling Terminal 2 complex. All in all, this whole wrong way Corrigan cost me about 12 minutes. The reward at the end of all this was to discover the pleasure of Terminal 2G, which unlike the rest of CDG is well-planned, built with modern travel and security in mind, and aesthetically pleasant to pass time in. The cafe is large, dark, and friendly. There are banks of security points, so the line thru them moves quickly. The gates are clumped together, so the passengers are all in the common area, which has plenty of seating and all the shops--the screens tell you when to head to the gate, and on you go. Genius. We had a short walk onto the tarmac to board the flight, and then I was in Goteborg.

I was met by Marcus Carter, who treated me to lunch upon arrival, and we started to head to Uddevalla, an hour or so’s drive, thru beautiful countryside. My take on Uddevalla the town is that is seems like it’s the place they would filmed ‘Let the Right One In’. They could have, anyway. The town boasts, however, a fine arts school called Plusgymnasiet, where Marcus works, and they had invited me to play with and for the students. Marcus played in a band called Depressive Art, and had tried to put together some shows for the Disciplines earlier this year, only to have his band implode during the process...we stayed in touch and here we were, making something happen at last. I arrived, freshened up and was soon meeting the students and running thru ‘Any Love’ which an ensemble of them had learned. And then it was quickly showtime--we had a lot to do, and I had to be on the road by 4 to make soundcheck in Goteborg. The venue itself is a 1930s or 40s cinema; gorgeous, actually. I came out and busted thru some KS material, wandering in and over the seats, dragging my cable along as usual. Great fun. Did a few songs at the piano, and then paused to answer questions from the students. And the finale was ‘Any Love’--me backed by a guitarist, keyboard player, bass player and conga drum slapper. I was a little rusty, so I think we all played with a few errors but the spirit was dead on, and the results excellent. Then it was time to do a quick interview with the Goteborg newspaper and head to the city.

GOTEBORG, 9/9

The other three Disciplines were already set up and running thru stuff. It had been well over a month since we’d played, and I was having a mental block on many of the lyrics of the new songs, but it started to make its way back...sometime during, or close to during, the show haha. I had my preshow cocktail at a wonderful wine bar/wine storage called Le Village, with Marcus & his crew. And then came back to the show really at the exact moment we were supposed to be onstage. Oh, I was rusty, but it didn’t matter...I figured out what to do. Crawling, jumping, grinding, falling, and, yes, singing too...at this point our sets our about 50% new songs...and it’s working, very well. Tonite’s venue was Pusterviksbaren--site of great Posies shows in ’98, ’00 and last year; and solo shows in ’01 and ’04 (the former was broadcast on Swedish in National radio).

MALMO, 9/10

Plane and train options were not happening, at least not affordably or conveniently, so we went to Malmo by bus, which actually was very pleasant. They have wifi on Swedish buses, comes to find out. I had three weeks of movie watching to catch up on during this tour, so I didn’t surf, Charlie-like. We arrived and had a little down time, as the bus arrived early to Malmo; later we walked the 5 minute walk to the club, and eventually found someone to let us in. Babel, the venue, is a former church (formerly known as the venue ‘Jericho’, but this was my first visit to the building). It’s a drop dead gorgeous place to see a show. Soaring whitewashed walls and plenty of windows; a wide/tall but not that deep stage faces a kind of small platform balcony of about the same height across a 15 feet or so of dance floor, and above the platform is another, higher level that has tables and the bar. This architecture breaks up the usual black box feel of most venues and in fact gives the room a tight but noticeable acoustic ambience, just right.

Our show was creamed by the reformation of the Electric Boys, some kind of funky band from the 80s, whose reformation tour was on that night at Debaser, but we had enough folks to make a show and a show was definitely made. At soundcheck we had written another new song, so all in all it was more than worth it to come for this experience.
After the show we assembled at the lovely flat of Magnus Tingsek, and Lise (‘Karl’ as I call her) Karlsnes, who of course was the singer of Briskeby--the person responsible for me being the band I am in now. We hung out at their place, ate popcorn, and listened to tracks from Tingsek’s new album (amazing, Stevie Wonder-esque explorations of jazzy, funky hypermelodic rock, all performed and recorded by him at home, and Lise’s new album, dreamy and electronic lovely pop melodies. Bravo to both!

ESKILSTUNA, 9/11

We had a long train journey to Eskilstuna, and were met at the train station (after a seriously SRO train from Norkoping) by our man Pontus, who books our shows in Sweden. Eskilstuna is a remarkable city--a small town that boasts the site of the Beatles and the Stones’ first shows in Scandinavia; and has given Sweden an improbably large slice of its music culture--some of Sweden’s most massive artists are from there (incl. Kent and at least one member of ABBA). The town has one main venue at the moment--a messy little bar called Raw. Messy, but not without its charm, of course. The main hotel in E-tuna burned down this year--mob related, they say--so we were staying at the Hotel Eskilstuna, about 15 minutes drive out of the center. We all wondered individually when we were going to turn a corner and see the the twin girls or the old rotting grandma in the bathtub. There was even a vintage group portrait on the wall that could have easily had Jack Nicholson in a slick-back look. We weren’t on til midnight, so we had a long and leisurely chill period. Then Pontus came to grab us and took us back to Raw, where we were dismayed to see even less people than in Malmo...what was happening? The town was totally dead, too. Oh well. We went to the dressing room, mustered our courage and came back out to the bar, and somehow, it was full of people. Totally weird. From where? Great crowd, too. I ended up in bare feet, shirtless, slick with greasy sweat and an ice bucket on my head. The guy who rented us our backline lived in the basement and wanted to have a party with us...but we went to bed. I have bruises on the bottom of my feet, black ones, where I jumped shoeless off the stage and landed on a solid connector between my two lengths of mic cable...

STOCKHOLM. 9/12

We drove with Pontus, leaving at noon (ah), to Stockholm, and checked in to the Scandic Malmen Hotel, where I have stayed many, many times now. But I’ve never *played* here...now their smaller bar, the Lilla Hotellbaren, is not only a hot spot (in a hot neighborhood) but has free live shows several nights a week. Great production and a large (for such a small place) stage--it’s spacious and much more glitzy than most venues around...it’s working well. It’s also a yuppie watering hole, and being the shows are free--there’s a lot of non rock people there on a given night, which makes my job a challenge...you have to get those people on board, too. And I think we did a marvelous job. But, there was a slight curse on the evening. A curse that could have been worse, but still...and the manifestation came in three parts, of course. First, about three songs into the show, I tossed my mangled mic stand away and somehow it got caught up on something, and bounced upwards and sideways, and the hard rubber mic club bonked Baard right between the eyes, which hurt a LOT. I felt terrible, and wanted to stop the show right then and there, and go to bed. But, I had to go thru and finish. No blood, but a nasty bump. The second bit was that after the show, we put our things against the back wall of the stage, and when we came from an adjacent room at the end of the night, the big bag that has our backdrop and Baard’s bass amp was missing. Still hoping it was just moved somewhere, but until we review the security film, we can’t say--it certainly wasn’t in any obvious place. So, we’ll see. The third bit was as follows: my routine when I check the band in to a hotel is to ask when breakfast finished (and to make sure it’s included), when check out time is, how to get online, etc. So, upon check in here they told us breakfast would be served til 12.30. Wonderful, I said--and arranged check out at 12.30 since I had to be heading to the airport at 12.45 anyway. But, when Bjorn and I headed at 11.40 to the restaurant, we found breakfast had just finished. Now for the good news--Baard didn’t get hit in the eye; the hotel agreed to help do all the things (police report, etc) to take care of the missing gear; and when we complained about being told the wrong time, the hotel comp’d us brunch, which was even better than the breakfast.

Now, the show itself was really, really good. We had fans there, we made new ones, and the yuppies were into it as well. I crawled on the bar, jumped on tables, made a nuisance of myself. My stage banter sucked cuz I was thinking too much about Baard and feeling really bad. We debuted a new song, we ripped thru our set, and played hard and good, went back for encores, etc. Sold half a suitcase full of merch. After the show I was soaking wet, and it was great to be able to go down to our room and change and shower (the band rooms are always in the basement at Scandic Malmen, and it makes for a some dark and deep sleep). I came back up to the bar and we had a pleasant evening of chatting with Marcus & co (who came from Goteborg) and Jonna Lee, a great songwriter who is now going to be hosting a radio program on P3. And I *still* got 8 or more hours of sleep.

The next day I did what I could to get the ball rolling on the lost bag, and flew home. Waking up at 7 today to take my daughter to school, I felt like a cold bag of some kind of cod-shit mixture. But I’m here, and soon will start on the album for Twice...

Love
KS
Paris

9.06.2009

I wanted to waste no time in getting back to work, I have a lot of projects that I am eager to start on. I had this idea that night I got to Paris I would start recording and mixing. Ha f***ing ha. I had been gone for a month! Just unpacking and putting things away and gong thru my mail took 2 hours...plus all the other organizational things. Once I resigned myself to that (plus a an hour long trip across Paris to pick up a hard drive, long story; a trip to the bank, the post, all the little tasks left undone since July) and got to work it went pretty much like it always does. So, on the first full day back in action, I played and sang on three excellent songs for the Seattle band Explone--who are related by marriage to Red Jacket Mine, whose upcoming album I produced and mixed (and played on). One of the songs, "I Can't Wait" is a serious gem. Don't know when they'll get this out, but I am glad to be a part of it.

Two other days I spent mixing and adding some extra bits to the Oh, Libia! album I produced in Spain this summer. Recorded 12 songs in 5 days on 8 track analog in a tiny tiny studio. They transferred the tracks to digital this summer and sent the results on a Flash drive. I loaded up the tracks, spent half the first day organizing all the songs into their sessoins and what not, and then started to get into it, and it's....beautiful! You're gonna love it.

Friday was a day to other things--get a haircut (I had gone back to brown after swimming and such every day for a month, now I am sleek and black again, and shorter hair too), do interviews, and meet with musicians about upcoming projects. Including a preproduction meeting with Andreas from Twice; we'll start working on an album next week in fact. Andreas is Danish but has lived most of his life, as far as I know, in France--in Tours, even, which is Dominique's home town. He and Margot are a duo and they are amazing. We share the same management here in France.

I had time for an aperitif at Le Motel with Mattias Corral, a super person, who I met when he took my pictures in Buenos Aires for Les Inrockuptibles. He used to live in Paris and speaks fantastic, authentically Parisian French. And English. And his native South American Espanyol. He was just back from shooting pics for an NGO in Lebanon who work with Palestinian refugees there. Shoots analog. Awesome.

I did have time to listen to a cool record, handed to me in Uruguay this spring, called Polyester. Ten-minute live slow rock jams, with vocals occasionally. Incredible Sunday morning music. Also, have started to read Naomi Klein's book Shock Doctrine. The Horror. Please read it.

By working, I chose not to attend the Lou Reed/Laurie Andersen concert at Salle Pleyel. But also it was full moon, and I didn't want to be on the metro on Champs Elysees with all the moon zombies. Hope it was good.

Love
KS
Paris

9.01.2009

ROCHEFORT, 8/27

Took the bus to La Rochelle, and was picked up by a driver for the festival; after which we headed to La Rochelle airport to pick up more musicians, and then drove half an hour to Rochefort. Rochefort was barely a hamlet in the 17th century when the royal planners saw that this bend in the Charentes river just inland would be a perfect refuge from which to build, arm and launch the fleet. So, a city was built solely as an expression of warfare, in elegant stone and in an unusually organized, grid-faithful, official manner. Eventually, shipbuilding moved elsewhere, and the 200-meter long ‘corderie’, where ropes were wound, twisting with their complete length extended, was no longer needed. Since then, the city has been shrinking--its population is half of what it was in the 19th century.

Enter Karel Beers, an Englishman who has been involved in the music world since the 60s, now living in France. I met Karel when I joined Neal Casal and Gary Louris for a jam at his former club, the Hotel du Nord (Aden’s first concert--I think she was just 10 days old; this acoustic show wasn’t even loud enough to wake her). We have a mutual friend in Robyn Hitchcock, so we’d heard about each other; somehow, we haven’t seen each other much since--my social life in Paris is pretty limited, as I’m almost always working or recuperating with my family after working out of town a long stretch. Well, Karel hit me up with an invitation I couldn’t refuse--to play at a festival he organizes, now in its 5th year, in Rochefort. And guess what? Rochefort is a 45-minute drive from my place on Ile de Re.

Rochefort-en-Accords is a unique gathering of great musicians and songwriters, mostly Anglophone (it sees itself as a contrast to La Rochelle, the bigger neighbor just up the road, where the Francofolies takes place each summer--a French-language-only music festival). The idea is to have the cast assemble for a 3-day period, during which different and unexpected combinations of musicians will put together unique programs and jams and what have you--and you have a lot. The players are often coming year after year, so you have a mix of regulars and newbies like me. Generally there’s no complete bands coming, so people are motivated to harvest players from the assembled guests if they want to augment their sound, and with players like this, who wouldn’t want to take advantage of their presence?

Day 1 was really a get in, get acquainted day, and there was a small event to kick off the show--a revolving, oscillating concert on the Transbordeur Bridge--a unique transportation medium from 1900. Two metal towers stand on each side of the Charentes, and from the top of each tower, rails extend to meet the towers on the other side. Shuttling along these rails, via a mechanized cable system, a wooden platform, basically a piece of bridge, ferries passengers over the river. It’s not suspended like a gondola or a chairlift; the rails make it stable and smooth (a little bump when it reaches the other side). It doesn’t swing--except today, of course.

So, about 70 people can stand/sit on the bridge as it crosses--it take about four and a half minutes to cross the river (the river isn’t *that* big--the Transbordeur just moves slowly. So, a group of passengers would get on, and ride over and back; during this time there would be musicians playing, completely acoustic, for their amusement. The theme of the music is that everyone does songs with a river theme. So, I opted for “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” the Loretta Lynn/Conway Twitty hit that I covered (with Dominique) on my covers EP. Dom not being able to come until Saturday, I found a willing volunteer in Marisa Yeaman, who hails from Melbourne and was wrapping up a summer-long Europe tour with this festival. She and her right hand man Tim are fine folks and we were already pals an hour after I arrived, as we were driven from the festival HQ to the bridge. We went on first, me standing holding on to a borrowed acoustic, having barely had time to run thru the song but it was fun, for the way back I followed along on one of Marisa’s tune, something I was hearing for the first time. We stayed on board for subsequent crossings, and as more musicians boarded and things started to swing a bit more, we were asked to repeat our performance--and by then we had some musicians to help; a fiddler named Paul (who used to live in Bellingham!), various pickers,double bassist Daniel Yvinec, and we were able to rock it a bit more--this was followed by a grand finale crossing where everyone--and now you see more of the cast--including guitarist Gary Lucas (who played with Captain Beefheart and Jeff Buckley), Ladychild (an American singer who dresses like a super cool Wild West Sherrif and sings with guts and glory); Piers Faccini, Anglo-Italian-French indiebluesman; Sebastian Llado-trombonist and conch shell loop expert; throaty and emotional British singer Rob Reynolds; and so on--went thru ‘Down by the Riverside’ and ‘Proud Mary’. When we came back to base, the audience wanted another so I guitared thru a small combo instrumental ‘Moon River’. Mission highly accomplished--and I instantly grokked what this event is all about.

We all went back to HQ, the backstage of the mainstage--the mainstage is set up in an enclosure next to the tiny marina; one side, instead of a stone wall, there’s a long stone building, and that accommodated the backstage and catering. We were served dinner--lunch and dinner were here everyday and were convivial, generous, and delicious--oysters, paella, charcuterie, bottomless wine, and LOTS of cheese. I wasn’t used to the rock & roll hours, so went to bed after dinner, in my lovely hotel room in the town center (nothing is more than 15-minute walk from anywhere else in Rochefort town proper).

ROCHEFORT, 8/28

Breakfast was only served til 9.30 each morning--even on Sunday. I admit this was hard too, and I was moving slowly, but I made it to see pedal steel genius BJ Cole (who has played with REM during my tenure) with bassist Andy Hammill and vibes-player Roger Beaujolais play on the lawn of the corderie at midday.

That afternoon I headed to the Jardin du Theatre--a hidden courtyard in the town center, for a small concert there, for about 200 people. Generally, between the Friday and the Saturday, almost all the artists did a show here and on the mainstage. I had brought my newly-acquired Flying V, not the most practical guitar for rehearsing on your own (it doesn’t fit on your lap). I had no strap for it, and straplocks weren’t available at the music store in La Rochelle. And amazingly enough, one of the sound technicians who I had spoken to at the BJ Cole trio concert brought his guitar--unscrewed his straplocks from the body of it, and attached them and his strap to my guitar--and said ‘please, keep it, my gift to you’. This is incredible--I mean, crazily generous and kind. So, that was saved my butt. Meanwhile, somehow, my capo had disappeared in my hotel room. So, I borrowed one from Piers Faccini (thank you Piers). I had a couple of ideas of what could be good to do so I quickly ran thru some things with Andy Hamill (bass) and Paul the violinist. Freakishly good guitaris Nick Harper (who rode in with me from La Rochelle airport) asked if he could join in. In the end, I did ‘Any Love’, ‘Je Vous En Prie’ and ‘Find Yourself Alone’ solo; then Nick, Andy and Paul joined me for a version of ‘Ask Me No Questions’ by Bridget St. John. This was...wow. Everybody just played beautifully. I had that thing where almost a month of vacation meant I had a LOT of emotional steam to blow off. Not because vacation is a source of frustration, no--but playing music is where I regulate my motor, really. I have the normal doubts and passions--times 1000. So, really, maybe more than many people--I NEED to do something constructive, otherwise...well, I’d rather not now.

Anyway, this version of ‘Ask Me No Questions’ was where I let it all hang out, and the beauty of what these musicians were playing with me...my word. Prob. the best I will ever do that particular number...

After that, I joined Piers for his set on a duet version of the Smiths ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want’ and stayed on board to play piano on a version of ‘One More Cup of Coffee’ with most of the musicians who played that day joining in.
 And that was that--I was free to enjoy the night and listen to music at the mainstage, drink lots of Pineau blanc, and chill with the peeps.

ROCHEFORT, 8/29

We assembled at HQ at noon and worked on some things for the grand finale section--different ideas were tossed around and a few things and settled on a plan. I waited around and watch most of my soundcheck window disappear--i had worked on some things with Andy and BJ, but Jeff, the dummer, and Geraint Watkins (pianist extraordinaire, played with Van Morrison, Paul McCartney and so on) had to go to another show, so...basically I tested the piano and tested the amp and prayed for rain.

My family arrived in the early evening and we settled into the hotel, and checked out a free mini concert outdoors in the center of town, while had our apero. I had missed them on the mainstage Friday, so I enjoyed checking out 78 RPM Selector--a mix of theatre and dance--a tattooed and pierced red devil dances while a woman DJs--using 78s and a gramophone.

We headed to HQ for dinner and I spent the evening running around playing tracks for all the musicians I hadn’t had time to rehearse with--I was doing this until literally the second I went on. Then we were setting up and we were off. This is one of this unique, unprecedented sets in my career--and I know a lot of fans who would have shit a brick to see this. My audience was hearing these songs for the first time but they were great and well into it. First up, a full band version of Down Like Me (none of these songs were rehearsed, and everything worked perfectly) with Jeff, Andy, and BJ; Then a full band version of Fireflies, same lineup. The same lineup, augmented by Gary Lucas on guitar, did a full band version of Lover’s Hymn; then I did a three song tribute to the late Larry Knechtel. Larry, who you’ve heard playing on Soft Commands (piano and organ on ‘You Drew’), left us last week. I explained to the audience, in French, who he was, and how he was one of those players that, largely anonymously, made hundreds of (famous) singers sound amazing. A kind of foot soldier in the music ranks--but a foot soldier with the talent of a great general, if you want to continue this metaphor (I don’t). Anyway, you’ve heard him on the Phil Spector hits, on 60s pop productions like the Mamas & the Papas, the 5th Dimension; replacing or augmenting the bass parts on early singles like ‘Light My Fire’ and ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’. The organ grooving away in ‘That’s Life’ by Sinatra? Larry. The piano in ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’? Larry. Larry played bass (and the guitar solo in ‘Guitar Man’) in Bread! He has done so much, and so well. And he was one of those ‘yeah, whatever’ guys. Not impressed with himself particularly. Not negative, just, no big deal.

So, I did some of the unthinkable--I played piano and sang, accompanied only by singer Rebecca Hollweg, on a version of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ (I never rehearsed with her; during her mainstage set was the only time I had to run over to a nearby hotel and play the piano in their empty bar to rehearse the piano part--I’d never played it before). Then, Jeff, Andy, BJ and Geraint Watkins came back and we did ‘Never My Love’ by the Association (Larry played on the original and played organ, piano and bass on my version). Awesome. And then (BJ sat out on the next one) we did something even more unthinkable--’God Only Knows’ (yep, Larry played on Pet Sounds). Geraint is a huge fan, so...he led the way musically. But I sang it with extensive vigor, and it was an awesome closer. I felt *somebody* should be doing an extensive homage to Larry, and I hope it transmitted to where it needed to go in the cosmos.

During the Grand Finale section, we did a barely-rehearsed version of Neil Young’s ‘Down to the Wire’ (done a la Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, like my recorded version). We had horns, we had guitars a-plenty (Gary Lucas and Nicolas Mingot), we had Daniel Yvinec (who’s played with Dead Can Dance, Donald Fagen, John Cale...) on bass, and Jano Hanela (from enormous 80s band Trust) and it rocked. NOBODY was expecting that...even the rehearsal was not as full on as the final version. It brought the house down.

It was super fun to have Dom, Aden and the grandparents along for the ride--Aden was well behaved and made lots of friends, there were lots of kids from the various musicians around--oh, I forgot about the part where Aden and a new friend simply walked to the center of the stage while I was playing ‘Fireflies’ and just stood there talking, like two city gals who just ran into each other on the street corner. Dom came out to retrieve them when the song was over and Aden said ‘Tell papa to stop, he doesn’t sing that well and it’s my turn now’. ha F-ing ha!

I wanted to say that this festival gave a unique a feeling, kind of a summer camp feeling (but better). I made a lot of friends; my blog here describes the musical goings on, but the people that I didn’t know before, and played with this time--well, everyone was in a generous mood and in this atmosphere, I felt like everyone was equally put in their best light for the duration. There was no real headliner, and no real opener...everybody was on equal ground, respected and giving respect. So I have to hand it to Karel for creating this atmosphere and to the musicians for being the great collection that they were. There was not a crank, grump or recluse in the bunch...no snobs...well, if they were, they were instantly corrected...but I suspect the casting was deliberate and paid off huge rewards for all involved.

In the morning we headed back by car to Ile de Re, and I have been enjoying a real Ile de Re day--cafe in the village square, swimming at the beach, fresh food enjoyed at home.

Back to the Ratte Race soon.

Love
KS
Paris

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!!!