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
