The night before my show, Rod and his family and friends took me out in grand style. First, was a Bia Hoi place--Bia Hoi is very light beer that’s made with no preservatives on a daily basis in Hanoi. This place flies it down to Saigon every afternoon. What a great marketing gimmick--you have to drink the whole lot, cuz it goes flat the next day. So it’s your patriotic duty to quaff as much as possible. This gets served with Hanoi specialities such as sliced up pig ear smothered in the sawdust-like poweder made by roasting rice husk and pulverizing it. Also: frog legs. And so on. Fucking awesome food yet again. And we followed that up by heading to a karaoke place, drinking Heinekens and screaming out all kinds of nonsense, but actually Rod’s missus did a really good job on the Vietnamese songs, and Rod’s visiting nephew’s gal Emma was absolutely stunning on Bon Jovi. After a couple of hours of squawking, I
HO CHI MINH CITY, 1/28
On the day of my show, I spent time in the War Remnants Museum. It’s a deliberate choice in naming this, as much of the impact of the display is to show that the cost of the war is still being paid--environmentally, yes, and most importantly--the toxic effects of the campaign against Vietnam afflicted thousands of people who weren’t even born when the conflict was in progress. Birth defects, unexploded ordinance, buried land mines.
Look, the trajectory is simple. The French took over Vietnam and other parts of SE Asia. They used the pretense of some missionaries--who were, of course, imposing an unwanted religion on an uninterested populace--were killed--to take over a entire subcontinent. It would be like America taking over entire regions of Asia after Americans citizens were killed, using the act a pretense to attach sovereign states in a gambit that did nothing to prevent such actions from reoccurring. Good thing we’re above all that. Ahem. Anyway, then the Japanese invaded and really put the thumbscrews on everyone, and when they departed, the locals who had been resisting them for a decade thought, hey, I think we earned our country back, paid for in blood--and declared themselves independent. France, however, thought the price too low, and returned. Uh, sorry guys but...I do believe if anyone actually *did* deserve to recolonize SE Asia if measured in terms of beating back the Co-Prosperity Sphere, France would be somewhere behind Albania. But the age of empire was well and truly over--insults to democracy like the Dutch coming in and machinegunning the Indonesians who had just been subjected to the Japanese empire’s brutality...I mean, hadn’t the world had enough? The fact is...colonial powers all claim that the peoples they subjugate aren’t capable of running things themselves, but I will guarantee that a P/L on most colonies would come up red. The ones that had oil, no. But the rest...you really think colonial admin was a brilliant model of efficiency? Why is it that enslaving the locals is the only way to make it run, then?
So, the French fought to keep it, and lost, and the Americans sought to keep it one way, and lost. The will of the reds was way too strong. And guess what--the world didn’t burst into flames when we lost. The Russians were happy to watch us fuck up, and rather than learn a lesson about experimental wars launched without provocation--we decided to spend the next 40 years (or more? It ain’t done yet) trying to improve the formula. I’m sure there’s Carlyle group think tanks right now eyeing Kyrgyzstan.
I have another theory, far more loopy and radical. You know why Americans make fun of the French and spent two decades raping Vietnam? Because white Anglo lack of sensuality cannot handle cultures that incorporate the sensual into their worldview. Feminine energy, no way. Where America excels is in pitched battle, man-to-man, as it were. Put us up against another industrialized nation of white guys and we will kick them to curb. You kill all the able-bodied men and the subdued nation sues for peace. But if a country is built around harmony between feminine and masculine energy--well, you basically have to destroy everything, right? Otherwise, if you just kill soldiers and take villages--the *spirit* of that nation is still 50% in biz.
It was Vietnam’s sensuality that really made me feel at home. Because they do share that with the French. That and a few other things that may actually *be* French--a love of paperwork, for one. I am not trying to idealize, or patronize, Vietnamese culture. There’s plenty of macho stuff in the culture, and of course some horrific prostitution and slo-mo prostitution--those unlikely 50-year age difference couples a la Philippines. But, I know what I felt, and if nothing else, certainly Vietnam has so many pleasing layers for the senses, and that, itself, qualifies my observation.
Well. After visiting the same mom and pop worker’s cafe I visited the other day, and buying a memory chip so I wouldn’t have to keep uploading photos and removing them from my phone’s tiny memory, it was time to meet up with Rod and head to the venue. The Cage is tucked away in a compound that’s owned by the armed forces (well, actually the government owns all property--people are only leasing, in rolling, 99-year, transferable agreements--their land from the government; and many, many buildings are in the possession of one gov’t agency or another, to be loaned or given as rewards for various kinds of situations...yes, corruption is a problem) but now developed into a warren of flashy restaurants. The Cage is nightclub, but it seems like they had a kitchen, too. It’s quite swanky, which should sort of disqualify either myself or itself from a potential evening together, but, they were happy to have us. Keith Nolan was supporting this evening; Keith is a wicked keyboard player, who plays a Harlem shuffle of RnB, at least he did this evening--he’s also working on techno, soundtracks, all kinds of stuff. He’s Irish but has been living abroad for many years, now living in Bangkok. A really cool person. And of course his alligator stompin blues is just the kind of thing that locals would and do love. So, peeps were groovin. The place was filling up with about 70 or so people, mostly expats, and sliver of locals. After Keith’s set, the house sound engineer put on earsplitting techno, for no reason whatsoever. There was about as much chance of people dancing as there was of them roasting rats on a spit. The typical expat here was a biz dude in his upper deck ages--it takes awhile before you get these kind of postings. Rod managed to chill things down a bit, but for everyone’s sake including my own, I thought it best to get on with it. Of course, being a classy joint there was quite a light system, too...which I did my best to evade by immediately leaving the stage and dragging my mic with me...as this was a big place, people were evenly spread to the tables...so, I needed to get to them, and I did, and it worked out great. Enter a three-hour show, pulling covers out of the hat, and blasting my songs out to the assembled congregation. People wouldn’t let it stop, and there were plenty of magic moments, I was really feeling in that ‘testify’ mode. Mark, a visiting muso from Oz who lent me his stratocaster for the event, busted out great harmonies for my romp thru Neil’s “Tell Me Why”. I don’t remember what I did, exactly, but it was *everything* hahahah. I had to migrate back to the stage to play some piano, spending some time riffing on the fact that I didn’t just have a keyboard for the show, I had a ‘music workstation’ hahaha. In other words, a Korg synth with plastic keys...but it sounded good and I played it with competency. And, my friend Curtis King, jumped up and blew some harp on a few numbers. In other words, in a very ‘classy’ and ‘grown up’ kind of place...we managed to make it a very organic, warm and friendly evening....
After the show we went to a preferred Pho place, now directly across from the construction of what will be a nearly 70-floor tower. As seemed to be the case everywhere I went in Asia, workers were working 24 hours a day on construction. So, we had excellent noodles and watched the goings on as we looked straight up the skirt of this graceful, curvaceous skyscraper. Again...feminine and masculine energy in harmony...these noodles, by the way, contained what looked like egg-shaped egg yolks but what were actually the undeveloped eggs from inside the chicken. Yum, by the way.
The next day Rod ferried me to SGN’s domestic terminal, making sure I had lunch in he car on the way...I mean, seriously, this fella has got to be the greatest host of all time. He saw me off and I went and found my place in line with about fifty million other people, and realized there was no point really to wait in line--as flights were closing down, a guy would come thru the line with a sign asking people who were on the flight in question to step forward. Vietnam Airways has two flights leaving for Hanoi at 2pm. So imagine, when they called those flights--like, the whole line just broke the Tensa-Barriers and went forward. But we all got checked in, and then...security. Same deal, a jillion people in line. There was no way--so I went to the front of the line and cut in in as friendly a manner as possible. And of course, I boarded the flight, and we left 40 minutes late as they did in fact wait for everyone to board. So there. 2 hours later, and I landed in Hanoi, claimed my bags, and went out to meet my driver, feeling cool. Only, that I arrived 45 minutes late, my driver had given up. After speaking with Nick, the promoter, I hopped a cab and headed in, in the dwindling light. On the way in from HAN, it’s rice paddies and buffalo, but new homes built up at random. But as the city of Hanoi started to show itself, it’s quite a different vibe from Saigon, less of the big colonial buildings and more...almost a kind of medieval Swiss vibe--little turrets and towers and balconies....I mean, if Switzerland was in tropical Asia. It’s intricate and detailed, perhaps we can say in contrast to Saigon, which was more broad and elegant in a grand way; this was elegant in a delicate way. We made it to my hotel, the Maison D’Hanoi, which is right in the center of the city, which seems to be marked from a spacious lake surrounded by, on the side that my hotel rests, thousands of shops arranged in speciality streets--a street for people making shoulder bags, a street for shoes, a street for musical instruments. The shops are crammed together, crammed with stuff....and in between of course, are people who offer every service you think of--from cutting keys, to fixing your shoes (hard to get down the street *without* being waylaid by, uh, helpful shoe repair guys, and the loose side on one of my Springcourts was not up to snuff. I was admonished pretty much constantly) to of course, books. Yes, Saigon was served by several top quality bookstores, and I loved this idea--but Hanoi might have one better--the bookstore comes to you--in the form of mobile book sellers carrying a crate of 20 paperback titles or so...you just keep holding out til someone has one you want.
Maison D’Hanoi is a beautiful, very stylish hotel right in the heart of things. Run by one Mr. Victor, whom I ran into at breakfast the morning of my show, who is himself stylish, as well as knowledgeable and just...super cool. My room had rich dark hardwood, black and white bed linens, and grey marble bathroom walls and floor. It was on the inside of the hotel, but unlike my windowless room in Saigon, it had glassbrick windows so light could come in without showing you were looking into a featureless courtyard. I loved it. Like my Saigon room, it was quiet, cool, and great for sleeping.
Nick, my promoter, picked me up and I hopped on back of his motorbike and we met up his crew, the
CAMA crew, at a Bia Hoi place--the same unpreserved, light and, uh, fluffy beer that I’d enjoyed in Saigon, where it gets airlifted straight from the brewery every day. There was Nick’s partner Giles, former Seattle-ite Steve; and restaurateur Dan. We were joined by more friends, and we soon decamped to Dan’s place,
Highway 4, to dine on various local specialities, and, perhaps most importantly, to consume copious amounts of rice wine, including the notorious brew made with an infusion of geckos. Evidently the critters have a toxin that in small amounts is very much a stimulant...so, this gets ya buzzed in two directions. Quite dangerous!
HANOI, 1/30
Spent the day just walking around exploring my ‘hood, and all the little shops etc therein. Then, we went to the venue. Cinematheque is just that: a cinema, the closest thing to an art house cinema in all of Hanoi, tho they show mainstream things, too...I think ‘Up’ was showing that evening. Let’s say, it’s a temple to quality cinema. It’s tucked away, like so many things I found in HCMC and Hanoi, behind, inside, around...way off the street. Almost nothing to be seen from the street, but you go in an alley, where people park their motorbikes, and that winds around...and around, deeper into the labyrinth, and then you’re in a pleasant terrace. Open to the sky, but they’ve hung a tarp over the place to keep ambient vegetable matter from falling constantly from the trees on the patrons. The warren of structures that form a maze inside this warren include the cinema, beer garden, a travel agency, a hotel, an art gallery, several homes...and a small theatre, complete with a very small balcony. Evidently the whole block is owned by the Ministry of Culture, who tolerate all the activities therein. Except for one thing. The theatre had been built by the same visionary who runs the cinema, as a place for traditional Vietnamese opera...and this cultural activity is the one thing the MoC said no to, for reasons impossible to divine. So, the place is used for music concerts on occasion. And now, mine. Inside, red paint and gold Chinese letters. I soundchecked, adjusted a few things, and then Steve’s missus and her friend took me out for a delicious noodle soup with fat escargots. When I came back...the joint was PACKED. This was going to be good. I couldn’t even get in past the beer garden, so watching my support act, Josh Lee, was impossible. When I squeezed in there, and started to play...incredible. Maybe all told in and out there were 200 people, and even tho I played off the PA, and it was sweltering inside, almost everyone sat still thru the whole show...it was...wow. Surreal. With the heat, I started to get a bit out of body. With the layout--beer garden just outside, balcony, tons of people, I had to work with a bit of ambient chatter, but it was well under control, and I just did my best to deliver to what was quite a decent crowd for me. There was some pretty thunderous applause...coupla encores...and, I was really pleased to see, lots of Vietnamese faces, a more balanced crowd than in HCMC. Everyone seemed to dig it...very much. There was a film crew there making a doc on what was going on in contemporary Hanoi, and tho the camera man had a kind of obnoxious light that was bumming a few folks out, it was good to get a doc of this nite, it’s being edited now...
Basically, it was a massive, triumphantly wonderful night and show, and perhaps the best ending imaginable to the tour. It didn’t end there, either--the CAMA folks and a few others met up at a little bar that did a lock in, and eventually I was handed an acoustic guitar for a few songs, but I was toast by 3 and had to get up for my flight!
I managed to get out in the neighborhood for early cafe and croissant before my taxi took me to the airport. It was then that it sort of hit me...I was leaving Asia and my tour was over...man! And Vietnam, too. I wasn’t really ready to go, there was so much more to know and to see. So, more...to come.
A stop in Singapore. Some great movies and decent inflight grub...sigh, why can’t the other airlines learn that service is part of their value. Singapore Airlines and Qantas were my companies for this trip and they are both excellent. The only problem with this trip is that Singapore to Sydney is not a very long flight, for an overnight trip, and with all those good movies to watch...I had only slept maybe 4 hours or so when I landed in Sydney. The flight to Canberra was too short to really sleep on, and then I was there...
Hannah Gillespie, with whom I’d be working for the next 2 weeks, was there to pick me up, and take me to her charming little home in Queanbeyan, NSW just outside of Canberra, which she was giving up for me to have my own place for the length of the project, she’ll stay at a friend’s nearby.
Hannah is a funny, generous soul who by day is employed in a government agency doing communication work. She made a record a year or so ago, but due to family issues and work, didn’t get to do much with it, and decided to make another, having learned about what she did and didn’t want from the first one. She is a really great songwriter, and due to modesty and general principles doesn’t take herself as seriously as I do when we’re working...she’s quicker to point out her flaws then take pride in her accomplishments. I am all for modesty, but not when it keeps you from moving forward...and I think this record will be a massive step forward, musically, for her, and bring out what she does best. She’s got a great voice, and great lyrics, and those things will come forward on this recording no doubt.
On this first day, we went out into the country, her dad lives about 50 k’s down the road, so we had lunch with him and Hannah’s stepmom. Her dad, Pete, is a cool cat who plays a mean mandolin and had a little band like the Band back in the 60s. His health hasn’t been the best lately, so he hasn’t been able to be on this record, which is unfortunate to say the least but he is certainly represented in the spirit of the music. Hannah’s music has rootsy elements, to be sure. She sort of gave me the impression she thought country was a four letter word, but, I hated to break it to her...she has a lot of country soul in her. She’s been cool with it, and I think we have done plenty to avoid cliches and corn.
After a swim in a river, that during these months of summer drought is more of a series of ponds, and a get-to-know-the-team dinner, under trees full of squawking white cockatoos (you know, the Baretta bird), we got to work. We’ve worked now 4 days, which is why this blog is so late in posting, between the travel, the very tired first day, and the work there’s been no time to write.
We work in Queanbeyan, just ten minutes or so by car from Hannah’s place. The studio,
Infidel, is more than comfortable and I have an awesome engineering team. We are recording on 16 track tape, and moving to digital when needed (like when we need to edit between takes--we are renting the tape, hahah, if we cut it, we have to buy it!). Some songs are just Hannah and guitar; some have more--her musical right hand is one Matt Nightingale, who moves adeptly from double bass to guitar to...whatever you need! Wonderful, enthusiastic presence and a superb multitalented muso. We also had Kevin Nicol on drums on some songs, who played in a very big 80s AOR rock band called
Noiseworks, don’t worry, we teased him a-plenty. He was great too--we had to establish the vibe of the rec in the first day, when we had him there, in an epic, 3pm to 3am session (Duncan, the studio owner, and one of 3 in house engineers that have obviated the need for me to do much of the dirty work, advised these hours as the studio is in an industrial area and his neighbors in the building run the heavy machinery more in the early part of the day) I really exploded many preconceived notions about what this record could be...all while keeping it grounded in some kind of credible framework. I played keys live on a few of the tracks...we had a banjo player drop in and play...everything we’ve done so far is to play live with 2-4 people playing at once. All the songs are on tape now, in some form, and now comes layering whatever we need to make it complete. We have the horn section coming tomorrow...morning...so...on that note, good night, and expect a very short blog next Sunday! But the players have been flexible and open minded, and above all, talented and able to go with whatever twists and turns my randomizing brain has been able to come up with...
Love
KS
Queanbeyan AUSTRALIA
