4.20.2010 Our week of rehearsals in Seattle. Wow. What a challenge--to build up 12 new songs from scratch and make them presentable not only for the show at the Croc on Saturday, but for a live broadcast on KEXP and...an album recording right after. We tore into it, and we excelled. The songs coming in were so far, ridiculously far, above the level of our previous material...maybe above ANY of our material. Lyrically, structurally, it’s an evolution in depth, complexity, and ambition that would be like the Beatles taking a little break after Please Please Me and coming back with Kid A. It will be our defining artifact, if the composition is any indication. I really believe this. All this pretentious self-aggrandizing aside, we had a great week. We were inspired, and punctual, hard-working. Posies rehearsals back in the day had different aspects--start times that were ignored by several hours and ending times that found the band long departed to grayer pastures. Members collapsing in giggling fits, having snorted their way out of all reason and playing ability. As many etc's as I care to recall. These days, it’s a shenanigans-free affair. We rehearsed 8 or more hours a day, spent the mornings procuring all the supplies for a month’s worth of recording and touring, and the evenings rewarding ourselves with rarefied vintages, a dull sermon on nepotism given by Charlotte Gainsbourg at her sold out Seattle show; the week also contained reunions of Mother Love Bone (with my former house sitter Shawn Smith in the Landrew position) and Soundgarden--sounds like a trip to Gameworks and a perusal of back issues of the Rocket are in order to complete the pastiche. My bandmates were in good shape and good energy, despite Matt's recent bike accident that left him with some large swatches of scabby territory and a major shiner. As if he wasn't a character enough... I made my Seattle hajj's to The Red Mill, perhaps the best burger joint on the planet?; to the cafes, music stores, etc. A lot has changed...a few things haven't. But the building up of Broadway/Pine/Pike area is pretty confusing, it's beyond unrecognizable. Tuesday nite Darius and I had fun on "The Monkey" a big FM station which has a local music show hosted by Damon Stewart, who actually helped break the Posies into our career when he was a DJ on KJET, an alternative AM station in Seattle, back in 1988. Darius and I had the run of the place, and in between vintage Posies selections " we played a new DiSCiPLiNES track, examples of things I'd produced, my solo stuff ("You Drew" has Darius on drums), and a track from the Spiral Stairs album that Jon produced that Darius played on...we were planning on being there for half an hour--we spent 2 hours there and had a blast. Giving enough shit to the Long Winters for not telling Darius if they planned to use him for more shows or not on air that they finally acknowledged via Twitter their search for a drummer continues... On Friday morning we loaded into KEXP and I was quite nervous--this was amplified by the absolutely lethal caffeine they brew there. I felt like the guys onstage at The Last Waltz, I was so jacked up. We brought down tiny amps (and the Long Winters bass amp) so we could leave most of our stuff set up in the rehearsal place. Now, I was nervous but I think our host and interviewer Cheryl Waters was even MORE nervous, she could hardly get the q's out, bless her. So, we let the music do the talking, playing two songs from FOTB interspersed with 2 new songs, and they were great. REALLY great. Powerful, emotional, abstract, thoughtful, moody...oh yeahrrrr. We had some encouragement from our buddy Chris Xefos who dropped by to hang. You can hear the sessions here With that accomplished we went back to rehearsals and learned two more amazing songs. SEATTLE, 4/17 It was probably for the better that the weather was moody that morning, and my proposed tennis match with my host Brian was canceled. I needed to rest for the big event, and also, my showing on the court earlier that week was less than stellar. Need to get back into it a bit more. So, I slept in, and my mom and stepdad came by and we went to lunch, along with my son and his new girlfriend. Headed back to Brian's and then he took me up to the hill (note: he has been a lifesaver this week, driving me around and being my partner in winecrime as well as letting me soak up a lot of real estate in his and his fiancee's Meggean's house). We loaded up the gear, and headed to the Crocodile. We'd already cased the joint (as well as the newly-installed Via Tribunali pizzeria+) at the Charlotte show. It has loft-like feel now, almost like a barn. I will say, the staff there--Nathan, the manager for the night, our old friend Sean who's now GM, the security, the sound and lights, the loaders. Wow. What a tight effin' ship. Cheerful, helpful, totally pro and WAY beyond competent. That was a delight. We felt very welcome, and very at home. We needed a long soundcheck, running most of the new stuff and a little FOTB. No problems there. It was great to see our friends in the Tripwires--vets of so many great bands we've known forever, and to meet Curtains For You. We then proceeded to hold court at the back booth in Via Tribunali for most of the night, which was a great place to have friends come by but the socializing did mean that I missed CFY's set, which was a bummer. But, it was like the one night that friends knew where to find me, and I'd been pretty busy during the week, so I had to prioritize. But it was great to see folks like Terry Morgan, who was manager of the Posies in the early days; and Modou from the band WaFlash who is married to my friend Michele (and who have a beautiful little girl) came by, which was great. Lucy Suzuki, who was my g.f. ten years ago and a dear friend today was there. I really needed that. My parents arrived and were escorted to a reserved seating perch up in the mezzanine, which a great view of the show, I could check in with them all through our set. They stayed for the whole thing and loved it (note: my stepdad is 85). OK so as the week progressed we decided, but did not announce, that we would START the show with 12 new songs, and THEN do FOTB. We felt that new material was so strong, it deserved to be the main attraction. It was more challenging, and it's more restrained, so we thought it made musical sense to have FOTB more like an encore. It was the right thing to do, and we played the new stuff so freaking well. I mean...this is not easy music. It's so much more sophisticated than our past material...really it's not the same musical idea at all. It totally worked. Of course the FOTB stuff was easy after that. I will say, that tho my heart was in the new material, I put plenty of effort into the FOTB material and certainly "Coming Right Along", as a guitar and piano duet between Jon & myself, was yet another indicator of how much our musicality has progressed. We followed up with versions of "Ontario" and "Throwaway" as a final encore and that topped off the evening way beyond capacity. It wasn't but a couple of hours later that I was heading to SeaTac in the dark. Amazingly enough, all our flights were on time. All were still flying, since Eyjafjallajoekull was belching smoke up in the flight paths of Northern Europe, as it still is, wreaking on havoc on travel schedules--but not those involving Spain, miraculously. We got all our gear on board FREE OF CHARGE-- a combo of a clerical error on one airlines part and the Ryan Bingham-like status Jon & I enjoy on multiple carriers. Jon & I landed in Washington, and it was only then that I started to wake up. The show was kind of a blur. I really had to concentrate and it went by so freaking fast...was the audience even there? Of course they were, but I was just in my own head. Not really entertaining, as such, but...executing. Like the tiny Ukrainian girls doing those floor routines in the Olympics. But for 2 hours. And then no sleep and flying across a continent, an ocean...who books this stuff? Oh: me. Ahem. So, at IAD we boarded a re-routed Aer Lingus flight to Madrid (EI doesn't fly from Dulles, and they only fly to Ireland from the US so it was a sign of weird times in the air thanks to the volcano). Snoozed and arrived to Madrid in the wee hours, and met up with Matt and Darius, who had no problems on their flights and had slept well etc. We were on different flights as we are going in different directions after this adventure so there were deals to be had by going with different co's. We flew on to Jerez, the tarmac of this small airport crowded with stranded Finnair planes for some reason. Barajas had been full of Britons trying to get home; life was complicated by a timely SNCF rail strike that put the Eurostar on reduced capacity. Way to earn public ire, eh? And then we arrived to Jerez, and a van and driver were there to pick us up, and take our gear to the studio. We had booked two days in a hotel for acclimation to the time zone. Needed that. I was ok in the early afternoon but by 5pm I was nodding off. We did make it to dinner that night at Balandro, a favorite place of ours and then back to the hotel to crash. This morning I woke up at 4am, having been dreaming of recording ideas for one Jon's new songs. I read a bit, went back to sleep and finally got up a little after 7. Feeling good tho. Put my feet in the ocean. Had a cafe. Got caught up on some work. Called Dom to wish her a happy birthday--she could have come here but had to do a big TV shooting yesterday. I called Aden, who is on spring break, and now...finally a day free from work so I have time to catch up on work. Bliss. Love KS Cadiz 4.13.2010 We wrapped the Hanggai week with a massive feast the night before my departure; the band rented a huge circular banquet hall and JB and I, after 2 hardcore days of tag team production trying to get the vocals done before we all had to leave town, joined the band and their friends and family to a rotating selection of sheep parts and other delicacies...huge circular table with huge glass lazy Susan in the center. Sheep head with all the innards diced up inside...JB & I ate one eyeball each! Wed. morning, I was a little beaten up by epic dining and my old nemesis Jacob's Creek. Flew home, watching movies the whole way (Air France really has a nice selection). Upon arrival, I hung out with my family, opened presents, and fell asleep promptly at nine. CRANS-MONTANA, 4/8 Good thing, too. I was up at 6 the next morning. As I prepared to head to the train, my family was getting up towards the end of the process. I was so sad to leave them so quickly after my arrival that I overstayed my goodbyes...and ended up having to RUN to Gare de Lyon. I made my train, but all sweaty and out of breath--which is what a Disciplines show is like anyway. Some hours later, I arrived to Lausanne, and a driver picked me up for the two-hour run to Crans-Montana. I slept, can you blame me? Up in the mountains, it was sunny, I parked myself in the backstage and got organized. My bandmates, having flown in the night before, were soon on the scene and we did our soundcheck, had a lite meal (nothing but carbs on the menu, no thanks!) and waited around for show time...the band before us were these kind of JoBro's thing, playing the absolute whitest version of Chuck Berry's "Rock & Roll Music" I think I have ever heard...crowd loved 'em, of course. There were called Pegasus which I pronounced PeggySues when I acknowledged them. So, our show: KM flown to get there: 10,000. Hours of travel from home: nearly 6. Hours of sleep: not enough. Elevation (this is a real killer when you are out of shape, and I am out of shape if we don't play a show every weekend): 1000m!!! Weeks since last show: 6. So, the fact this show was pretty damn good...well, it was a miracle we could do it at all. I can't say I had my all to give, I really tried, but just breathing was hard, let alone being 100% in control and feeling good. I was feeling fat and old, that's for sure. I probably WAS fat and old. But people loved it, and we made some real fans...and then the place filled up with Amy McDonald fans and we were history, haha. Amy's show ended at 1, and we took the last shuttle to our hotel, some 20 min. drive away. The guys came back to my room, and much like the last nite in Beijing-- where JB, Jerome and I went to JB's room after the big dinner with a bottle of Great Wall, and in 5 minutes I was asleep during the conversation--same thing here. The guys respectfully left me there, passed out, not from drinking, just from pure exhaustion. The bottle we brought back to the room was barely consumed. And at 4.30 that morning, I was out the door, for the 2-hour drive to Lausanne. 7.30am train. ooooooh. Got back to Paris and started right away on mixing Hannah Gillespie. Finishing up one song, and starting another, and then I went to bed. Jet lag had me up Saturday morning at 6. So, I did a little more work on Hannah's stuff til my family woke up, so could say bye bye. And out the door at 8. Flew to Seattle. LONG day. Long flight to New York, some 5-6 hours at JFK, nothing to do. Flight to Seattle took forever, too. I slept for like 2 hours, woke up and realized with horror that we weren't even a third of the way through. Fuuuuuck. Had a nice chat with the guy in the middle seat next to mine, a finance guy who had just been on a quick dash to DC to check out an Aston Martin in hopes of buying it. I love the Astons, and he was happy to talk about them--being quite the enthusiast--this would be his second. The time passed a little quickly too. Landed, at 11.30--by the time I was at Brian's house, it had been some 25 hours since I left my flat in Paris. We had a celebratory bottle of Napa claret.... First day back in Seattle, Darius picked me up and we caught up and picked up tons of supplies for the recording and shows upcoming--different music stores, batteries at Fred Meyer. Always surreal to be back. Running into friends around town. And getting set up in our nice little practice room on Capitol Hill. Matt is looking wrecked--he wiped out on his bike in Palm Springs just before coming here, so he's got a big shiner and gouges all over...poor bastid. Jon looks good, we're sounding good--by now we've already worked up 4 excellent new songs. Had some incredible wine with Brian, in fact yesterday we visited my storage space and my wine storage, just down the road from Brian's place--I did some Navy SEAL worthy moves to get in and across the ocean of debris--my possessions--in my storage to wrestle out a guitar that I'm trading to Brian, and a big fluffy coat another friend wanted. We pulled out some treasures to enjoy from my wine collection this week. Last nite we all went to see Beach House, they were excellent in their sold out show at Neumo's. Kind of a one trick pony but it's a great trick. Beautiful voice--very Band of Horses (I called them the Fleet Furnaces at one point). Enjoyable, then back to Brian's for a little dessert wine, and some bed. It's grey and drizzly today. I need WARMTH. Love KS Seattle 4.03.2010 I posted a ton of new photos to the photos section I continued my week, recording with Hanggai in Beijing. We spent most of the week tracking the band live (sometimes with live vocal), and then the last couple of days doing overdubs--although I have to say, the basic tracks (hardly basic, really, when you consider there are 6 musicians playing at once) turned out wonderfully. They sound already mixed, just the perfect dynamics, interaction and diverse tonalities of the players and their unique blend of instrumentation. I've been getting to know them better, and building a great relationship with Travis, the engineer of the studio. So far, it's been a drama free session (touch wood). I get up in the morning--I've been waking up early--have a great breakfast at the hotel (steamed buns with green vegetable), go BACK to bed for an hour or so, get up/ready, bike the 7 minutes to the studio (most of Beijing seems to be quite flat, so it's a great biking city--oh, they have bike lanes too), dismount and immediately search out some midday vittles, usually a tiny sandwich of chopped up lamb guts in some kind of chewy, herbed bread; stroll into the studio and make music all day, with a break around 6 or 7 for a HUGE meal from the restaurant on the alley that the studio is on--there's quite a few little eateries there to choose from but generally our evening meal comes from the place that does a great crispy duck...there's a dish of meat, and for the truly indulgent experience, a dish that's just the duck's oily skin. Yummmm. Sea cucumber, spicy noodles, chicken feet soaked in white pepper oil. It goes on and on. Last Sunday I woke up early, my body finally not feeling like I'd been on the Long March, and biked at 8.30 over to the Forbidden City, and was amongst the first people there, beating the rush for the most part. It's there that I detected the first hint of spring, tho it's still a bit brisk in general...and the winter was so hard this year that the trees seem scared shitless, there's not even a *hint* of green buds on the branches. But the former Emperor's Garden had cultivated cherry blossoms, and the scent of the junipers reminded me of the approach to certain Spanish beaches I love. I did a little shopping for Aden's birthday, did lots of interviews--the Seattle Weekly is doing a feature on the Posies the week we're in town...and China Daily and other papers here are talking to me this week. And now...bed time. Love KS Beijing 3.27.2010 Just added a ton of new photos to the photos section. BEIJING, 3/24 I was pretty messed up leaving Paris. Tired, sick, quite heartbroken from the Alex weekend. It didn't get any better spending my third night on a plane in 5 days, more or less. I arrived in Beijing sick, groggy, unable to fight. Direct flight, tho, which was nice, and the formalities were pretty easy. It was cold, grey. Not that I could keep my eyes open. Ilichi from the band i was to be working with, Hanggai met me outside customs. Hanggai make revved up music based on Mongolian folk music. Most of their songs are sung in Mongolian, a few in Chinese. Most of the band is originally from Inner Mongolia, i.e., that part of China which lies next to Mongolia. The band formed in Beijing in 2002 and has released an album that shows their acoustic side, but has since then developed a much more dynamic live show and has been a hit at festivals around the world. They are signed to a Dutch label for Europe, and like the case the The Girls who I recently worked with, this project landed on the desk of JB Meijers, who was too booked up to do all the days needed, so trusted me to get the project going and work on the basic tracks and hand it off to him--he'll show up here in a week or so, soonest he could do it. Actually, there's something really great about doing a major part, but all of, a recording--you don't get overwhelmed, you can concentrate on details, and you know that in potential the more brains work on something, the better the results. It takes like-minded brains, but JB & I have established we have a pretty consistent and compatible POV, so all good. So, first mission: sleep. I know, breaking the jet lag rule, but with all I've been thru, it's been some months since I've thrown that rule out the window. Straight to my incredible room at The Emperor Hotel, just outside the Forbidden City (so I guess, it's in the Allowed City). It sounds corny to say, but I really believe that some principle has been applied, perhaps just good design (and perhaps those are two ways of saying the same thing) but this is far from the standard room in terms of look, feel, layout or shape. Shoebox shape, but don't let that throw ya. The bed is kind of tucked in and the two windows facing outside blocked by a pillar which holds the TV...hard to explain but I sleep so incredibly well here. The view of Forbidden City and Jingshan Park from the 4th-floor breakfast room is marvelous. In general the impression I have of Beijing is spaciousness. Trees, broad streets, lots of stretches where most buildings don't rise above three or four floors...of course there are tall buildings too, and some of the most radical architecture I've ever laid eyes on. The popular form here (and I believe *is* influenced by Feng Shui principles) is to have a huge arch-shaped office building that engulfs a massive glass walled atrium. This I see over and over. There's a hotel that is typical skyscraper shape until you get close to the top then it is shaped like...smoke, or a dab of shaving cream, or a melting skyscraper...not sure. The Holiday Inn that looks like it's made out of sandstone. Weird and wonderful stuff. The other odd feeling of Beijing, again, at least in this area, is the emptiness. Biking home from the studio tonite, there was nobody on the street, just after midnite on a Saturday...what the...? Ok, ok....I digress again and again. I got up in the evening, and cabbed to the venue. Driver was bummed I gave him 100 Yuan note and tipped himself a tenner accordingly. And gave me a lecture. I found a few Europeans heading towards an unmarked doorway about five and half feet high and found myself in the Yugong Yishan, where I was to support Hanggai. I made my way backstage and found the band and introduced myself. Huricha, the singer, and his wife and 3 year old son; Lead guitaris Iko; Bagen, who plays what they call a fiddle but is more in the range of a classical western cello--it has two strings, and you make notes by balancing your fingers on the neck next to, but not really on, the string of choice--but sometimes on, making harmonics. It's amazing what sounds these players can get out of deceptively simple-looking instruments. What's more, Bagen is also great at throat singing (what singing *isn't* throat singing, you all ask). This is the art of singing a low droning note and then getting your vocal chords to oscillate a harmonic that moves independently, it sounds like whistling, in way. You sing two things at once. Bagen can sing regular notes at astounding depth, so I guess he is working with 8 octaves--at least. We already met Ilichi, who plays a small banjo-like instrument and other small acoustic instruments of local origin. There's Xu, who plays guitar and a lute-like instrument. Xin, who plays bass and Li Dan who plays drums, but a mix between a conventional rock kit and a batch of percussion...no hit hat, no snare. Also there was Ilichi's wife Jennifer who speaks excellent English and an American expat, Tracy, who goes way back with the band ans speaks excellent Chinese, both have been invaluable as translators, as the rest of the band speaks little to no English (that they are comfortable trying, anyway). A few other friends trickled in and out. I got my act together and went onstage, the club was pretty full, so...lots of peeps, lots of chatter but it didn't bother me, I'd heard audiences in China could be jabber-y. I walked out with my guitar and Jennifer announced me in Chinese, and I announced myself and off I went, a short, fun set, my voice sounded OK even tho I was sick and tired, technically. Maybe even better than oK! I hopped off the stage and took my mic, and delivered the goods for about half an hour, point blank. One audible 'no way!' came out of one Scott from the band Argo, Seattle guy now living in Hong Kong who was in town for biz. He used to live literally around the corner from me in Seattle. So did I. After the show, I watched Hanggai's set and chatted with people, there were a lot of expats in the room. And then...crashed. Since then, I've been here three days--the day after the show/arrival day, I slept in, went to a freezing cold gear rental/rehearsal place to pick out what amps to rent for the session, and we had a fun dinner with the band talking about the session, drinking 'Great Wall' cabernet, etc. Another good sleep and it was work time. The first day was a set up day, at A-String Studio, basically trying to find the proper mics etc to record a 7 piece band live. There isn't a ton of equipment here, in fact, my only choices are really mic placement and making sure the instruments sound good--I have no compressors or other trickery to work with. Even the mic selection is a little limited, but I brought mine and JB sent a couple over, so we're OK. I have a great engineering team, and the band is superb. Jerome, a Dutch fellow who made all of this project happen--he's technically their booking agent but is really so much more, arrived on Friday and he's been great too, he's been here a few times so I have various perspectives on how to navigate. What's been brilliant is that we now have bikes given to us by the hotel, and the studio is like a seven-minute bike ride from the hotel. The sun is out, even tho it's still cold. The Hang-guys said this winter was one of the coldest (they are from Inner Mongolia, for crying out loud! So, not to be taken lightly) they can recall. It gets in the low thirties F at nite. But the days are pleasant. I'm amazed at how calm and spacious this city of some twelve million (!) people is...I'm sure there are more bustling neighborhoods but where we are is considered the center. Think of it more like Central Park, tho, and I think that gets an idea. Today was our first official day of recording stuff and it's been awesome. Despite/because of the limitations, we've made beautiful, natural, live recordings; the studio room is big enough to get some separation but just enough bleed to sound organic. They guys are patient and I am just very happy to be there, you know! Great players, so things come together quickly. It will be a great record, no doubt... Love KS Beijing 3.22.2010 This week was not the kind of thing you can just blog away about. But in a sense, the best way to write about the the injury I feel, is to build the week up. Lately I have been in a pincer between forces well outside my comprehension, let alone control. And that’s unpleasant. We like to think we have a thing called freedom of choice, and that a destiny shaped by will is a destiny superior to one directed by the slavering shibboleths that have been boiled down in the pit of your subconscious...you don’t want your abject need running the show, that’s for sure. But there are times when our safety is challenged, and we are picked up by the Eagle of Bad Shit, and that fucker can hold us, let us go, stash us away, at will. And you just have to go along for the ride. You think you’re tough? Until fate, the universe or whatever decides to makes a sucker punch...little hungry dogs nip a chunk out of your ass and scurry back out of sight. You laugh, and then realize...woah...I’m losing a lot of...blooooooooo.....d..you’re dead, and the joke’s on you. Oblique strategies indeed. So, on one hand, I’ve never officially recovered from my illness that beset me...when exactly? Sometime shortly after I got back from Australia, the change from summer back to winter got me sick. That simple. Even before I went to Vienna, five days after getting home, I had swollen glands and such. Fair enough. But then singing with The Disciplines...that’s just provocation--the yelling, the sweating, etc. The jig was up already. By the next weekend, I was seriously sick. And the German doctor who gave me a shot of cortisone said the shot overrides your body’s better judgement and turns off your immune system. That’s why your throat starts working again...your defenses, formerly rigid, go all limp. She predicted I would get an infection from that point, and she was right. But she had put me on antibiotics in anticipation. But, still, a day or two later, I was coughing up green crud and feeling pretty drained. Since then it’s been a slow climb back to health, but oddly, being at home this week, it was slipping backwards. My cough returned, the green crap returned. And my energy level was just depleted. I was really planning on jamming hard in the studio and busting out all the mixing for Hannah Gillespie’s album in the 5 days I was home but I didn’t even come close. For one thing, I had to divide the days between the massive amount of communications needed for the various Posies, Big Star, Disciplines and solo work I do; then there are all the things that I need to do while I’m home--not the least of which is spend a little time with my family, and take care of Aden when Dom is working--but also do family shopping, get Aden to school, go my Pilates classes, therapy sessions, etc; then there’s interviews, several a week usually. And normally, by working til 3-4am and getting up at 7.30 (when I need to get up to get ready with Aden for school) I can cram in a good 18-hour day and make some progress. Not this time. I was finding it pretty difficult to even stay up til midnite, and also, my workflow was just slow in general. The results were good, tho--the first mixes of Hannah’s music have been excellent. But, I’m just not quick at the moment. Wednesday morning I had the pleasure of having former Seattle-ite Terry Lee Hale, who lives just outside of Paris now, come over and play some dobro on one of Hannah’s songs. I knew Terry Lee well back in the day, we played shows together in the early days of the Posies, and Terry Lee was the original booking guy for the Crocodile Cafe, and of course the first band to ever set up on the stage of the Croc was none other than we’s truly. But here in Paris, since Terry is in les banlieus we are in effect worlds apart. Plus I’m gone a lot. But, it was great to have TLH come give some flavorful licks on a very important song on Hannah’s record, and after he left, I went straight into mixing the song. I worked on it til about midnite, sent a work-in-progress mix to Hannah, and went to bed. Thursday morning. Began like others. I woke up, got dressed and took Aden to school with Dom. We went to have breakfast at our usual spot. Time to get to work. So, I went home, and Dom went to the cafe across the street to shoot the merde with some friends. I logged on to see if Hannah had any comments about the latest mixes. I connected our ADSL, logged into gmail and set about doing something else. It was about 9:15am at this point. BTW I turn my cell phones off at night to avoid people who can’t fucking understand the concept of a time zone. They were still off--I usually keep the American one off the whole time I’m in France. Anyway, as my gmail inbox came into focus across the room, I noticed a whole lot of white had filled in during the last 8 hours. Emails stack up from newest to oldest. So, the first one was from my friend Carsten in Germany saying...”I am sure you’ve heard by now, but let me just say how sorry...” WTF? I read on. And then...saw #AlexChilton as a leading trending topic on Twitter. And then...my hands started to shake, and my pulse shot up to like 300BPM. The evidence was overwhelming, and not a hoax. While I was sleeping Alex Chilton had died of an apparent heart attach while en route to the hospital. Age 59. Please understand that from that moment on, I’ve been speaking about Alex in dozens of interviews--it wasn’t long before NME, Uncut, various US papers were calling my cell phone (which I turned on, and watched with horror as the text messages rolled in, like an endless wave of B52s crapping on my life. Since then I have said so much...I can’t repeat it all here. In the meantime tho...I was alone. I looked out our 3rd floor window and saw Dom in the sunshine, on the terrace of the cafe across the street, laughing with friends. I didn’t panic, but...I was crushed in a vice. Dom came home. I sat her down and told her what was happening. And then, most surreal of all, a previously scheduled interview with a German college radio station started, the house line ringing. The interviewer had no idea what had happened and was just catching up about The Disciplines and Billy & the Firm. I didn’t have the heart to break in and start talking about Alex. I spoke in a kind of fake cheeriness and hung up the phone after 45 minutes. In a way, it was a relief to go into an alternate reality where the fact of Alex’s death wasn’t like a black fog raking across my lungs. Jon was still up, he texted. I called him. Before we spoke I had a temporary thought that there was no way I should get on Friday’s flight to Austin. But even as I dialed his number, I knew we had to. And he agreed. A rough plan was already in shape to have special guests fill a miniscule portion of the empty space that would be so apparent on that stage. Pilates class at noon. Again, a break in the throb that was taking over my body. Replacing it with another. After I came back home, laying in the bath--not really thinking, or remembering Alex, or running thru memories, but in fact, the response my body chose was adrenalin, for whatever reason. I couldn’t grab onto one clear thought and follow it, they were like minnows, darting to avoid me. I don’t really know how the nite ended. I don’t remember. I packed...I spent a little time with Aden, journalists were already calling. Dom had to go to a work function. At some point...I went to bed. Who knows. In the morning, I had that weird feeling, that I have only had a couple of times in my adult life--when I woke up in jail, or as a relationship was imploding. Your ears turn on, your eyes start to open. You become aware of your breathing, and maybe you hear a bird chirp or something and you have a wonderful amnesiac period as your OS boots up. And then...the ironclad unavoidable truth hits you--you fucked up, she fucked off, the world is fucked. Maybe I had that feeling Sept. 12, 2001, too. No knowing any better you start off with All is Well and then you remember, with horror...all is NOT well. I had a cab booked, i got my shit together, Dom, Aden and I went downstairs and Aden and Dom started to head for school. Aden wanted me to carry her backpack and she too had forgotten the world is indeed well and truly fucked at this moment and when I said I couldn’t, I wasn’t going with her, she cried--not because of me, but because she was so desperate to ride her bike w/o training wheels to school and the backpack would throw her off her already precarious game. We calmed her down, Dom came back and took the backpack, we said goodbye, I went to the airport. Of course it was a monstrous line for check in, all kinds of extra security now that the underwear bomb era has commenced-- I was going to buy wine at duty free for some sorrow drowning but no time, I got to the gate, boarded, took a piss before we took off, and slept slept slept til Chicago. Once there, I got to the gate and found the flight delayed by an hour, started to get online but the wifi sucked ass and thus I went for the phone--checking in with Jon (Jody was impossible to reach in light of the news and the calls he must be getting), Mike Mills who was in town already, and my production contacts for Saturday’s show. As I was struggling with basic wifi, a punky young lady with that unmistakably midwestern blend of vintage eyewear and nasally flattened vowels asked if she could use my computer...I said...give it a try, it’s not working well. She didn’t have better luck than I did, but we started talking and she had just gotten the news about Alex as she was just back from Mexico City. It was she who pointed out that Alex’s obit was in the NYT that day, so I bought one. I landed in Austin. So not ready for this. My driver met me at bag claim and I was deposited at the Radisson. Of course on the 2.5 hour flight from Chicago to Austin there was nothing to eat--the only things for sale were like fucking Pringles and trail mix. I mean, I would have paid $20 for a turkey wrap. And I know I’m not the only one that stupid when he’s hungry. Why can’t the airlines get it together--we don’t care about free food. But when we spend money...we want FOOD. Not the scales that fell off of food. Anyway, one of the only things I was really into seeing was Jonna Lee, my friend from Stockholm and now that I had landed an hour later than planned, it was panic time. I got it together and chugged up Congress to the Intercontinental Hotel, was directed to Stephen F’s bar upstairs, and she was just getting going. So that was nice. Sound was a little murky, but she was superb. Small crowd, but she wowed ‘em. I was actually relieved that the first show I went to wasn’t a mob scene. I was pretty comfortable with my $16 glass of cabernet (see??) and a lo key setting. My health was falling like a bowling ball in a shaving cream mountain by this time. My voice all Pleshette’d out. I invited Jonna and her friend from the Swedish National radio to the show and went in search of FOOD. Thank god for Manuel’s. It drew me in with those sultry red neon lights and I sidled up to the bar and ordered shrimps all sizzled up with things and more wine. Julia, who was my contact for this show, took pity upon my and actually walked into the restaurant and delivered me some meds. Bless her. I had this half crazed idea that I could actually get in to the Broken Social Scene show at Parish. And I spoke to friends about meeting there. As soon as I was done eating, I realized there was no way on God’s brown, Texan earth that I was going anywhere but to bed. So I went back to the hotel, patiently waited for midnite to come, and crashed. AUSTIN, 3/20 Got up at 11, I think. I don’t know. It was hard to tell. The weather was abysmal--ice cold, pant-whipping blasts of air from apparently every possible direction. Rain had been dumped liberally. I ran to the pharmacy for more meds. Gulped down food from the lobby Starbucks. Headed to the convention center, where I was to appear on a previously arranged panel to discuss Big Star and their legacy...sheesh. It actually turned out to be a good thing. Jon, Jody, Andy Hummel, myself, plus Chris Stamey, Tommy Keene, and the moderator, writer Bob Mehr, with John Fry participating via Skype from Ardent Studios, traded Alex stories in a roughly chronological order about his life, his ideas, his jokes. I found out that he was married and had a son when he was 19. How did I not know that....there was a really good crowd...better than for the panel we did in 2004 with Terry Manning....I mean...it really is true...someone has to die before people realize what he had to offer. Somewhat sickening. After the panel I collected myself in my room, but also, more emails, more calls. Then we assembled in the lobby and headed to soundcheck. Now, you’ve read the reviews. You know what took place. Jon did an amazing job of locating and wrangling the special guests while I did my usual logistics/detail work. And Julia, again...saved our ass over and over. Things were pretty disorganized...a daytime party in the venue, Antone’s, seemed to be still in progress when we arrived. But they got it cleared out and and we started setting up. People started to show up for run thru’s and soundcheck. After this, some goddam good barbecue arrived, and we all shared it and I caught up with Mills, and Kurt Kirkwood. When I sorted out the guest list, my work was done...Mills and I took off for a couple of glasses of wine at his hotel, and then we proceeded back at the venue to check out Dwight Twilley, power pop legend from OK. Unf. he didn’t do my favorite song of his, but he rocked out....kind of a real old school kind of show....very enjoyable. During the next band, we had photo ops, and then it was showtime. A letter from Alex’s lovely wife of just a few months, Laura, was read. So sweet and so true. We opened with Back of a Car, the three of us only. My voice was far away and weak, but serviceable. Kurt from the Meat Puppets rocked out next to me for two songs, “In the Street” and “Don’t Lie to Me”. Both Kirkwoods were grooving pretty hard on my bass playing at soundcheck. You gotta love that. Chris Stamey joined us for “I Am the Cosmos” and “When My Baby’s Beside Me”. What else...excellent version of “El Goodo” from Sondre Lerche. Evan Dando cradled “Nighttime” in his arms, solo acoustic. Pretty transcendent “Big Black Car” with M. Ward. Mills was ebullient, which lifted things up, for “Jesus Christ”. He gets the award, along with Mr. Kirkwood, for making me smile, if briefly. A friend of Jody’s with whom I was previously unfamiliar, Amy Speace, did a knockout version of “Try Again” with Jon, Evan and I on vocals. I hope *that* got filmed. Pretty stunning. John Doe, Jon and I did “I’m in Love with a Girl”. Chuck Prophet did a devastating “Thank You Friends” Jon a wonderful “Thirteen” and I had “Daisy Glaze” and “Feel”. Now guess what...”Daisy Glaze”: “You’re GONNA DIE. YES, YOU’RE GONNA DIE” “Feel”: “A Feeling like I’m DYING....” I forgot those were coming, and it was pure chlorine in my eyes. Pain like when Tom swallows the grenade he meant to toss at Jerry. Insides blown. The finale was “September Gurls” with the Watson Twins and Susan Cowsill. All sweet as pie. And, so important, but very few reviews pointed it out: Andy Hummel onstage with Big Star, playing guitar on “Way Out West” and bass on “September Gurls”--I played Alex’s licks and solo on guitar and Mills harmonized. All the show was filmed by the crew that had been working on a Big Star doc for some time (and whom Alex had denied permission to film the NYC show...now there’s a tragedy). And then it was over. the venue was empty, plastic cups everywhere...I was standing alone on the main floor talking to a radio station reporter. I had nothing left. We did it, and we did it well. We did it so well, in fact, that almost no review pointed how the hell a band could lose its main guitarist, singer and creative force and 72 hours later, pull it together and totally recreate the framework of those songs solidly enough for everyone to recognize them and provide solid footing for our guests. I guess it was a compliment in a way. I went to bed, woke up at various intervals. Jon and his wife Michelle were leaving at 6am but I was up at least to make sure Jody’s transport was sorted. On the way out the hotel at noon, I ran into a friend from Madrid and gave her a ride in my motor pool Tahoe--we stopped at a SXSW best kept secret--the Sunday morning softball tournament with FREE BBQ. My god, was that ever a good idea. At the airport, I hung with friends from Spain, with Nardwuar the Human Serviette, and others. Short hop to Dallas, long hop (lots of sleep) to Paris. Got home this morning, saw Dom saw Aden. Hoped to work on Hannah’s stuff but no way....Rolling Stone, various radio stations, went to talk to my shrink and my doctor--how un Big Star of me! hahah. About Alex. My doctor said it was natural my cold got worse those days after the news. And said allergies were a real problem at this moment, esp. in Paris. More meds. Gotta get up in 4 hours to get Aden to school, hit the pilates class, and fly to China. you got that? Love KS Paris 3.14.2010 MILANO, 3/7 Once again, Gianluca made sure I was stuffed like a sausage at his family restaurant, and once again, I was desperate for a nap at the flat in Cantu. In the evening we headed into Milan. I’ve passed a lot of time in Milan, it’s the media HQ for Italy so a stop there for promo with REM was obligatory whenever they had a new album out. We’d spend a couple of days doing TV shows etc. When Americans think of Italy they think of Tuscan sunshine, the Colosseum and mafia, and guys pushing canoes along with sticks while they sing about how alone they are. When I think of Italy, having spent more time in Milano and Torino, I think of big, imposing, grey industrial cities, full of extremely industrious people, who occasionally take a pause for some excellent eats. And then get back to work. There is a stereotype that Latin people are work-averse, but spend 8 minutes in Milano and you will see that people are relaxation-averse. I have a feeling that the Anglo-Saxon prejudice against Latin ‘laziness’ is pure jealousy: strong unions in France, for example guaranteed a shorter work week, and a month’s worth of vacations...while we Yankees justify the plutocratic eradication of worker’s rights as the American ‘dream’. Just work harder...and it’ll be alright. Oh, except...most of the people laboring for American companies are stuffed into labor barns in Asia making less than 20 cents an hour, working 16-hour shifts. But really, if they just work harder, they can ‘make it’ too! Prosperity is up for grabs! And you know what, French people would rather go home to their families after a day’s work...you won’t find a Microserf culture here. Now, I don’t know Italian culture as well but I can say that if activity is equal to productivity than northern Italy has to be socking away piles of stuff...somewhere. Milano to me, perhaps because of my awareness of all this busy busy work I find Milano quite unromantic...it can be so cold, foggy and grey (which is romantic to some people) and industrial to boot. However, it’s not without its charms. The Lux, the place where we play, is a very open, split level restaurant that has a bit of an art deco feel. Diners were dining, and, more importantly, a match was on the tele so we were not obligated to do a soundcheck. I was ready for some vittles so went to the upper level, which was mostly empty except for a guy and what appeared to be his mom but I would feel pretty shitty if I was wrong...anyway, they sat watching the match there and yelling a lot at the tele. Remember, this is not a sports bar, like one of those dreadful PMU bars in France, but a rather elegant place (um, except for the seatless unisex toilet with the door that doesn’t lock...my ultimate tour nightmare). I sat down and the server and discussed what I’d like...and in fact the perfect meals for me consist of antipasti. I love salumi, mozzarella, and the like so very much. It’s great light food before a show, and I had over done it on polenta and such at Gianluca’s restaurant for lunch. So, we thought that a nice plate of antipasti and salad would be just the ticket. And what the chef brought me was so wonderful, so beautiful to look at and so delicious...I wanted to cry. It was a massive round wooden slab covered in sliced charcuterie, cheese, tomatoes, pickles, salad...one thing that is popular in the north is thin slices of lard...wow, now, that’s indulgent, isn’t it? My show was a very good one, I played rather far past the limit of when people needed to go to bed (remember, it was a Sunday) so the crowd dwindled over the course of the evening but I was enjoying myself a lot, being able to sing even more freely than the days before, as my voice came back from the previous week’s illness. After the show we headed back to Cantu and Flav installed me at the flat. In the morning, Flav picked me up and we went to a big bakery--very modern, stylish, tho tucked away in an industrial park--for cafe and pain au chocolat, and then we went to the mall so I could buy a pair of socks, since I had packed one pair less than I should have for the trip. Then we started to head out to Lake Como. A massive, monster-inhabited watery playground of the rich...it’s truly one of the most scenic places in Europe....skinny and deep like a fjord, with dramatic mountains shooting straight up from the shores, and lovely villages and castles/hotels/mansions clinging to the sides. Tiny abbeys are glued to random mountains in such a way as to provoke the thought of what in the world made them choose that spot for their hideaway--not hidden, but sticking out like a swallow’s nest from a giant planetoid-like boulder. We drove around the like, around and around, passing the little village where George Clooney has set up his getaway, and came to the village where were to meet up with Julio, who lives up on the hillside a bit. His parents are civil engineers from nearby Valtellina (home of the famous Sforzato wine I was so eager to try--and he had plenty in the family cellar!)--this mountainous zone where Italy and Switzerland meet has an insatiable need for bridge and tunnel builders, and Julio’s parents learned the skills and took them to Australia, which has massive needs in the mining department for engineers, for example. They still work there now, commuting between their home in Como and Oz. Julio was born in Oz, speaks English with an Aussie accent and Italian with I assume no accent. At the moment, he has the big family house to himself, it’s a lovely villa, very homey. Down in the basement he a modest recording set up, and lots of instruments...about 35 years’ worth of Time, Newsweek and National Geographic mags...funny to see those 80s Apple Computer ads...anyway, the purpose of the day was to record a split single with a song from me and a song from Flav. We worked on both, but the fact is, I had to *write* mine...and so I did. I made a kind of jam on the super cool grandma-style console organ...you know, the kind that has a drum machine built in and all that. Added guitar, piano, percussion, synth bass...and then took a rough mix upstairs to work on lyrics. I gave Flav advice on what to do, which is somewhat less than producing, but hey. I helped with some lyrics, too, for his song. Since he lives in the area and I don’t, we had to finish my song more or less that day, and what I came up with was pretty cool....so cool I hope you hear it soon. After the session we drove back to Cantu, I slept in the car, slept a couple of hours in the flat, slept in the car driving the hour or so to Malpensa, slept on the plane. And then I was in Amsterdam, and JB was picking me up. I didn’t feel too bad, but it’s always a danger for me to be operating on so little sleep. We made our way to Studio 150, one of the most deluxe recording environments in Amsterdam, and I spent the day recording with the Girls for their album. Mostly we worked on bass parts as this was the first day their bass player, who just started a new day job, was available. When he had to go catch his train to Rotterdam we switched over to guitars. 150 has an amazing mic collection, so it was fun to dig around and choose from the cupboards full of vintage Neumann mics of various sizes, shapes, and sonic properties. The next day we trucked out to Limmen to resume work at the studio there, which now had a fully functioning mixing console, and we finished up the drums for the album, worked on guitars, and also tracked a song that’s drumless, just a duet so far between acoustic and electric guitar. Rolf, the lead guitar player, who is all of 19 years old, had been asking since day one when he could get his parts going, he was more than excited, and he is a damn good player, really amazing. He had borrowed a badass Gretsch Black Falcon for the session this week we made sure to use. We worked hard and it went by fast. By now I’m handing off the sessions to JB who take it from here, and I’m absolutely sure it’s going to be an amazing record...songs are really strong. Wishing them the best, we had a great, productive time in our 6 days of studio time together. And, like always, it was time to go...next episode. LA ROCHELLE, 3/12 I was on the train at 8.15 Friday morning, The Girls had dropped me off in Amsterdam and I crashed at JBs...I sleep in their office/studio room when I stay there, and JB’s missus, Wanda, an accomplished author, was still banging out a chapter in there when I arrived so JB put a plate of salumi and a healthy splash of red down and I forgot all about that goin’ to bed thing...in the morning (at 6.30...ugh) I was up, and still a bit buzzed, I got a lot sloppier as the day wore on and the all-too-recent vin rouge wore off. I shuttled to Brussels on one first class train, then to Paris on another (normally they go straight thru but they had some tech prob); then crossed Paris by taxi and got on another, for the three hour ride to La Rochelle. When I arrived, Steve, the promoter, was waiting for me. He parked me in a bar with wifi and I sort of caught up on the mountain of work that always follows me around. Now, La Rochelle is a place with which I am well familiar, as it’s the gateway to Ile de Re, where I spend my summers. As you may not have heard--because of a far deadlier earthquake in Chile the same day--La Rochelle and Ile de Re were very close to the worst-affected regions of the storm Xynthia that killed some 50 people (at least--more are missing) in Europe. Our house was spared, but many on Ile de Re were destroyed--friends of ours who are neighbors in Paris and have a house on a different part of the island found it filled with mud and other debris when a 4 foot wave crashed thru their town. Imagine tho, that in one town in the department of Vendee, their 200-year-old sea wall was smashed by a 25 foot high wave...this is where most of the fatalities occurred. La Rochelle suffered a lot of damage, but it wasn’t visibly evident when I arrived, less than a week later. The boats that were dumped on land were back in the water, debris cleaned up, etc. The bar I was to play in, La Java des Paluches, had a flooded basement but no other damage. Luis Francesco Arena arrived, and we put our stuff in the venue, dropped some stuff at Steve’s house, picked up the piano and other gear from here and there, dropped that back at the venue, and went to dinner next door. One of Steve’s friends was having his birthday party at the venue; the bar is already popular; the other show that was supposed to be happening that night was canceled, the venue too damaged by the storm to open. Our show was free to get in. So...with all that, the place was packed to the rafters. My phone credit ran out while I was in mid call to Dom, so after dinner I went over to the Tabac to buy a recharge, but found out the system was down from storm-related damage. But it seemed like they could still sell lotto tickets? Hmm. Anyway, I went back to the venue, then...had the thought that it would be nice to use a clean toilet with a seat (why is that always the first thing to disappear from every venue?) so I went back to the restaurant next door, which was closing up, the last customers were putting on their coats. Jerome, the owner said no problem and as I got comfortable in the loo asked thru the door what kind of drink he should prepare? hahaha...I said vin rouge but he changed my mind for me and poured us a shot of vanilla-infused rum. And another. And another. Suddenly my French got pretty good. We blabbed away. About 7 shots later I was out the door, and it was showtime. I set up my stuff and got into it. As you could imagine from what I described about the attendance, it was chaos there--but there was a wall of intent listeners, and lots of people sitting around enjoying the show, and the blah blah moved to the bar which was almost another room. Most of it, anyway...one guy was blathering away at some chick he was never gonna get anywhere with, right by me...so I poked him in the butt with my mic stand...I don’t usually get that confrontational, but...sometimes it’s fun! Now, the packed house, etc. meant that I was sweating soon. The cable for the sustain pedal on the piano was dodgy and we had to do a lot of jiggling to make it work...and of course after a few songs I yanked the piano up so I could play standing and of course fucked the any hope of getting that pedal to work. So, I played with a kind of player-piano feel. Totally weird, but funny. This was one of those manic shows--not musically pristine, perhaps, but definitely fun. Luis had worked up a guitar part for Death of A City which was a cool choice, even late in the set, with my funky piano. I am sure other stuff happened. It gets a bit blurry. Hahah. ROUEN, 3/13 We were up in the morning--Steve, his g.f., Luis and I had gone back to Steve’s for a late glass of wine, and at one point I said: I am laying down now. Bye! Luis was supposed to stay with a friend nearby but when they went there that guy was still out on the town so he ended up crashing on the floor. I was out by then. Anyway, we got up, and Steve put out quite a spread--beautiful croissants and mandarins and all kinds of goodies. Then it was road time. We were traveling in Luis’ car, a rather handsome Dacia Logan great little touring vehicle for a solo musician, or duo. Or more. It was about 5 hours to Rouen all told. I fell asleep. It’s been a busy week or two, you know? I’m still recovering from being sick, even. We pulled into town and via cell phone triangulation we met up with Matthias, our promoter. We went to his flat, where we were staying. Driving around in the city of 1,000 churches. There are a couple of enormous churches that would easily qualify as cathedrals anywhere else, but Rouen has a massive one--in fact, Notre Dame de Rouen was the world’s tallest building for a few years in the 19th century. Rouen has beam-and-plaster medieval buildings a-plenty...its quite scenic, although I have to admit I didn’t have time to see much. We soundchecked, we ate at the venue, I had a cafe and a tea, and played. Also, it was FREEZING in Rouen, so walking around was not an option for someone in my health. In fact, during this show, I could feel how my lungs had been scorched by the bronchitis that set in as the last stage of my illness the other week, which made singing difficult. I’m still not able to hold notes for as long as my theoretical maximum. I don’t think anyone else can tell tho. Well, the venue tonite was down in a classic ‘cave’ French style, a cellar. Cold, not exactly moist but giving the impression of moisture...somehow. I mean, a bottle of Bordeaux could live here for decades. But me...I was...chilly hahaha. Esp. since I had a kind of spring-y outfit on. But anyway, I did my best. And I think it was good, better than good. Kinda small crowd. Mederic from Tahiti 80 did come and represent. I did my show, I sang well...people dug it. But towards the end this girl was started laughing during one of the songs, “Je Vous En Prie” I don’t know if she was laughing at me, but....it threw me off, since generally this was a very quiet audience. I mean, I wrote the song when I was first with Dom and didn’t know French very well. It’s not something you would really say in French in the way I use it, and I know French people can be total bitches about that kind of thing too. So, perhaps that’s the last time I will ever perform that song in France. Hey, other than that tho...good show. hahah. I stayed up til 4 am watching “Human Nature” which Matthias had on DVD. Now, that’s a fucking funny film. I love how Gondry uses cheap FX very boldly, and there’s a stream of suggetive consciousness, where something is implied in reference and then its visual analog comes along and completes the pun--this is something you see on the Simpsons quite often. In the morning, Matthias drove me to Evreux--I needed to get back to Paris and due to work on the line, Rouen trains don’t run on Sunday mornings. This train was packed, but it’s only an hour to Paris. The problem is, you end up at St. Lazare, not the most convenient station for me. I exited and tried to find a taxi, but found only typical Parisian every-man-for-hisself combat and no clear order about who deserved what few taxis there were, so I manned up, and headed to the metro and eventually, got home. Perfect. It was great to be back with my home, family, good food, some nice wine (courtesy of Gianluca’s restaurant) and my daughter, back from a play date (in Versailles!). I was supposed to get mixing on the Hannah Gillespie album today, but I had so much to do in terms of tour managing for upcoming Posies, Big Star and Disciplines shows, plus emails, plus unpacking and so on...well, I loaded in the audio and got my sessions organized, and started to pick away at one song, but really, I’ll have to dig into it tomorrow. Hopefully I can catch up on one of the days I do one of the really minimal songs. I mixed one of the songs in Australia from the tape, it took about 30 minutes. You can’t fuck with tape like you can with ProTools. Should remember that. Love KS Paris 3.07.2010 DOMODOSSOLA, 3/6 Kind of a weird one. But then again, I was rather ethereal myself. We had a nice lunch just outside Cantu, at the home of Massi, Flav’s musical partner in crime, his g.f. Anna cooked lasagna and Massi made sure I had seconds, so...oof. And a cake, too. Ahhh! So, no need to say, I zonked out in the car. We arrived in Domodossola as the sky was settling into the vibrant blue of twilight in the clear mountain air. We worked our way into the village to arrive at the niche called L’Oste, which is short for osteria, which is not where you get oysters, but is traditionally a working man’s pub. L’Oste is a neighborhood place, where you can watch the football match, have a glass of nice wine, munch some bar snacks...and see live music. There were two important matches in succession, so soundcheck was going to be MUCH later. Unf. the food menu there is limited to panini or focaccia, and I was craving something more so the guys and I went in search of. We found a cool place, obv the hip bar on the corner had taken over the stuffier restaurant next door and chaos was the result as staff, furniture, etc. was splayed all over creation...not so much a work in progress (which would match the construction that means all over Domodossola you are walking on boards next to freshly dug ditches) but just...an anthill....but the food was good, and the wine wonderful. We stumbled back to the venue and set things up but we still had a couple of hours to kill til showtime. Which meant, for me, another opportunity to sleep. My body was still craving rest to get over my last couple weeks’ worth of ailments. So, it was in a state of pure post-sleep surealism that I rose at 11.15 in our tiny hotel and walked to the club, and walked straight onstage and went into it. Pretty odd little show, I was kind of stuffed in a corner, often with no light~! The bar was full of people and very noisy, but I still put on a two hour show, instead of one audience for the whole thing like the night before in Cantu, there were people kind of coming into the corner where the music was happening, watching a bit, moving on, and being replaced. People loved it...the bar owner in particular was extremely....demonstrative!--whooping and hollering like a crazy fella, he was thrilled to have me playing it seems. After my set, a guy in his 60s started DJing with great...60s music! hahah. The PA was still on so I played barrelhouse piano along with Kinks, Hollies, Box Tops etc. songs....which I have to say was pretty fun. Then I scampered off and went to bed. Waking up today, it’s the first day in the last couple of weeks where I don’t feel like going back to bed as soon as I get up. I’m not feeling drained, exhausted, beaten up, or frail. I’m still coughing a bit, and not breathing 100% clearly, but...hey. It’s a big improvement. Driving thru the alps listening to Lucio Battisti, heading to Gialuca’s family restaurant for what’s sure to be a great Sunday meal. Love KS on the highway to Seveso, ITALY 3.06.2010 I finally got on my rescheduled flight to Paris, getting home early Monday morning rather than late Sunday night. I spent the day working on itemizing all my Disciplines-related expenses for the year, and I wrapped that work by about 7pm. Dom was working, and we had arranged for a babysitter to stay til ten o clock. I had been in touch with the booking agent for Bob Log III, who was playing that night at La Maroquinerie, to get the exact stage time for his set and had suggested that to a couple of the kids from Chameleonic Cadence, who were visiting Paris this week. No need to say, I got lost like I always due trying to find La Maroquinerie coming from Gambetta, and showed up at 9.10, thinking I had missed the first ten minutes and would only get to see half an hour or so, only to find that he was going on at ten. I left and went home, very frustrated, esp. by the fact it was cold, and I traveled by bus each way. Depressing. Tuesday I entertained Aden in the morning while Dom slept in, her job is event manager for a venue and every other Monday there is a TV show filmed there, the production lasts late into the night. So we did our best to leave her alone and let her recover, I took Aden to the cafe where we pass most mornings. was still tired and a bit sick from a hard weekend of Disciplines shows, Northern Hemisphere weather, etc. so back at the flat I played Barbies but also fell asleep for snatches when Aden was into her own story, then she’d slap me awake and we’d subject Barbie and Polly Pocket to more medical treatment. Aden told me she wanted to be a veterinarian so she could ‘get paid a lot of money’. It all makes sense if you know her. With Aden having two weeks off for winter vacation, we took her to Dom’s parents place, a couple of hours train ride from Paris. We had dinner there, and Aden played with a kind of step-cousin that’s about the same age. I had to of course be on two different conference calls that night which was a pain in the neck but eventually could join the table--then up at 5 to catch my train back to Paris...getting back home in the early morning and then crossing Paris by metro and bus, guitar in hand, to rehearse for my upcoming show at Le Scopitine. Kristov & the Commoners, who are joining me on the bill, had offered to back me up for a few songs. I hopped on the bus from the end of the metro line, figuring I would know the neighborhood around Mains D’Oeuvres when I saw it. I’d just been there a couple of months ago to see Lydia Lunch perform, and I’d rehearsed and recorded there a few times over the years. But the bus recommended as the quickest connection by RATP actually went on a different road, not the usual one, so I hopped off and was totally lost. I called Kristov and he helped me find the way. No need to say it was in absolute pissing down rain, that I walked the 4-5 blocks I needed to get to the place. But, I just didn’t care. I set up and we started to run thru stuff with me playing guitar and piano, Kristov on and his guitarist Clement, and drummer Julien. The bass player couldn’t make it, but we worked on the songs and Clement, being a schooled kind of muso, wrote everything down and said it would be no problem to teach the parts to a bass player he was going to call in for the show. So, all was well. I could go home and rest, uh....right? I had dinner with Dom that night, on the terrace at a place we often go. Some slightly odd folks, speaking really bad French but thinking they were really cool, sat down at a table near us, which I wouldn’t have really taken much note but at one point I was talking to Dom about watching cartoons with Aden the night before and the guy, while the girl was probably hoovering up more lines in the bathroom, started like, TRYING TO JUMP IN THE CONVERSATION! Like, turned to our table, and being all smarmy, when I said something funny about Aden said “c’est vrai?” -- like, look: British or American assholes--JUST KEEP TRYING TO MAKE OUR CULTURES LOOK SHITTY, will you? We REALLY APPRECIATE when you act drunk, cocky and invasive ALL OVER THE FUCKING WORLD. HAMBURG, 2/25 Up early again. This is what makes me ill. The constant slog of up at 5, heading to airports in the cold. The thing is, this week there was (maybe still is?) a strike of air traffic controllers in France so I was stressing all week--would the flight happen? What’s my alternative? How much would I have to improvise? Bjorn’s flight narrowly escaped the Lufthansa strike...I am supporter of collective worker action. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a source of panic when I may have to improvise a way to get from Paris to Hamburg in one day, which might turn out to be an expensive day at that. Well, Air Berlin called and emailed the night before. My flight in the morning to Dusseldorf was canceled (what’s up with Dusseldorf, Air Berlin, me and canceled flights? Didn’t I just have this situation a few days before?). However, they had rebooked me on a flight to Berlin, which to my relief left an hour later than my original flight, and then they offered me a train ticket good for travel anywhere in Germany from there. Between Karsten at our label and myself we checked the train schedules and saw that I had quite a few options. So, up that morning, and out the door early in case of any shenanigans (and each step of movement in and away from Paris is always beset by shenanigans). By yelling, which is the only way...I caught a cab, and we started to head to Paris. Of course, the route to Orly was blocked by the police for some reason, so after sitting in traffic for ten sweat-inducing minutes, we pulled around and headed on a big loop WAY outside of Paris and got to Orly eventually. And then checked in for my flight, and then sat at the gate and watched my flight get delayed by two hours because of traffic issued related to the strike. I landed in Berlin, got my train ticket, and hopped the bus that takes you to the train station from Berlin Tegel, and in short order and one burek hastily eaten on the platform later I was hurtling towards Hamburg rather much more quickly than an airplane would have done. Off the platform and Karsten was there to meet me, and we headed directly to the offices of ROBA Publishing for a meeting. Then, it was already soundcheck time, and we cabbed to the Hafenklang, which is a very punk venue in what used to be a very punk part of town, down by the docks. Now of course, it’s all yuppie design boutiques and such, but the Hafenklang klangs on. The band arrived same time as me, and brought in our stuff. We were playing with The Flare-Up, who supported us in Stockholm last year. We had been added as support to their bill. Harry, JB Meijers’ drummer, lives in Hamburg so he came down and his friend Olli sorted us out an AC30! Brilliant. Well, we soundchecked, and it sounded pretty good. I had a lot to catch up on, so I spent some time emailing, and it wasn’t long before CEO, the punky local support band (reminded me of the Briefs) were banging away. In one particularly ’77 style number I asked Bjorn “Does this Clash wear with what I’m going?” but they were fun, and then we set up. The main part of the club was full and there seemed to be some genuine anticipation about our show. And we did not disappoint. It was furious, mad...balls out. The sound engineer hadn’t really done the most thorough job taping up my mic, so at more than one point the mic and the cable went in different directions...ooooops. Dude. Well. At each point I was desperate for action, so I tried: yelling the lyrics to each audience member, and then running onstage and looking for another mic. There was backup vocal mic, but it never came on. I used the hi hat mic, the tom mics (which are these ridiculous stubby things on short cables)...basically taking apart the whole stage...uh...but wait...we’re the *support* band tonite...oh.....buuummmmmerrrr.......the singer from the Flare Up was not pleased. In fact, he came out and demanded in between songs: “oh...and what about the soundcheck? What did we do that for? What are you doing, man?”. Well, I felt genuinely bad. I really was used to abusing Ralla’s kit in a way that would only affect our show. But, also...it *was* a punk club...and I am sure the exact placement of the tom mics...you know...but STILL I should have some respect. It wasn’t lack of respect per se, but really just plain old forgetfulness. (haha, cue Steve Martin: “I *forgot* that speeding was against the law”). So, I paused the show, and the sound guy put everything back together, and I apologized to the Flare Up onstage. Of course, you realize, the people ate this shit up like crack-covered candy corn. That’s the magic of politics folks. *I* was the asshole who dismantled the drum set--the Flare Up singer had every right to be mad, but by the end of the transaction people were feeling sorry for *me*. I didn’t manipulate that--but I saw it play out like that. A PUBLIC apology is VERY IMPORTANT. You can get a long way with humility. Just by comparison, the Flare Up singer ended up looking arrogant when he was SIMPLY STICKING UP FOR his RIGHTS. How very odd. Well, no need to say, we did our mission and then some. The show was insane, people loved it. And, I am very sad to say, the house pretty much emptied after that. This did not improve the Flare Up singer’s mood, but thankfully his band were much more forgiving. I apologized profusely, brought them beers on stage in their set, and they all said not to worry about the drum thing. Phew. After the show, we were billeted at Karsten’s parents’ house, they were out of town so we had a warm, spacious house to bunk down in. I wasted no time, and tried to rest off my mounting cold. POTSDAM, 2/26 Bless him, Karsten had a made a croissant run in the morning, and we were in great shape when we headed to the station for our train to Potsdam. We had time for a cafe at Hamburg’s cute Dammtor station, and then had a brief rocket-propelled ICE ride to Berlin. At the main station, we made our way onto an S-train and loped our way to Potsdam. As it turns out, after we cabbed to our hotel from the center, we actually were staying at a hotel across the street from the Griebnitzsee S Bahn stop, two stops out from the center. Oh, well, but...this was going to help us the next day, as we should be on the S-Bahn about 8am to get our train to Koln. We had some nice chill time at the hotel, which was in fact a nice hotel and then we trooped over to the Lindenpark, which is kind of rock hall in the woods. Potsdam is a community of about 70,000 people significantly outside Berlin, but evidently they put on packed shows here from time to time...I’m not sure who comes out to the woods to see bands but hey. On the same street you can see the outer edges of Potsdam’s “studio city” a massive movie lot with huge building facades and such. The Lindenpark is notable for the London bus “smashed” thru its wall...another special effects trick...anyway, we arrived and Angelika Express were soundchecking. The opening band, Smokebox, had rented an AC30 for us...nice, very shy guys. Well, I felt like total garbage. So I croaked out half a song at soundcheck and went back to bed in the hotel. Arriving back at the venue, Angelika Express were playing their rather full-length support set, including encore...I was like...hey...I want to go HOME. On with it! But they did give us a nice introduction, and what small crowd there was (the venue holds like 600) were pretty into it, so I couldn’t really fault them. I guess that was my ‘be understanding and forgiving to the support band” karma from the night before turning around rather quick like. So, I was thinking...man....not many people, I’m sick...how fun can this be? And you know what: it was amazing--people kind of filtered in from the corners and we had a decent little crowd there. They were REALLY into it, dancing and jumping...and so it felt like a real show. Getting the notoriously shy German audience to jump and get crazy is REALLY a compliment so I took it as such. We had a lot of fun. Great, great, crowd. And then I went to bed. IMMEDIATELY. KOLN, 2/27 Yes, that 7am wake up did nothing for my health. This is what gets me sick on tour...having to be up at 5, 6 , 7 am day after day to make trains and planes for the next show...then singing for two hours in cold winter air. Getting sweaty. It’s pretty much inevitable that I will be ill at some point. And tho I rested this night, just doing a high-energy show with a weakened body...the Disciplines show is like doing ten pilates classes in one night, plus a marathon, plus a couple hours of rock climbing thrown in for good measure. On the days after, I am bruised, pulled, sore, scratched. And to add insult, there’s always some ridiculous train or plane time thrown in the mix. At 8am we were out the door, and quickly on the S Bahn platform. We got off at Kreutzberg, and there isn’t a lot of indication as to which platform is for which train but we soon determined it wasn’t anywhere near the one we were on...so we started heading to a logical, central point in the station and saw a sign with our train’s number on it, and arrived at the platform with plenty of time til the next train to Berlin Spandau. We arrived, and headed off the platform to the connecting passageway. Having passed thru this station on my way to Hamburg a couple of days before, I was under the impression it was a major, big station...but actually it’s quite compact. So, I was like, looking for a station hall thinking like a Hauptbahnhof, the S Bahn and and IC trains surely must be miles apart, right? Uh, no...there *isn’t* any station hall at Spandau. Our train was right next door. That tight, 5 minute connection I was so worried about was for nothing. We boarded and then had 4 hours on the train to sleep, have lunch, and all that good stuff. When it works...it works. Love the long train rides. We arrived in Koln and Karsten was there again to greet us. We had to hustle to make it to our radio session, and we found that the train on the other side of the platform was going to where we needed to go. Then it was a matter of orientation when we arrived, and but soon we were hiking up the 5 flights of stairs to Koln Campus Radio, for an interview and live session. And here waiting for us were Billy & the Firm, who were to support us this night. Readers of this blog should remember Billy, I mixed her album last year in two sessions at my home in Paris, one of which was attended by Billy herself. Billy herself being a multi talented singer, director, video DJ and more, from Israel. Billy is married to Shy Nobleman, who arranged my shows in Israel in 2008. The album she & I worked on together is now released by Spark & Shine in Germany like the D’s so it’s all quite compact and familial, no? Well, it was great to see Billy and meet her band. Billy & I were interviewed first, which was really fun and cool. We got to sort of clarify our mutual respect in a public way...say some things that in the middle of working it wasn’t the time to say. And then Bjorn & I tried to record a couple of songs...I croaked thru Oslo but anything more was impossible. Hmmm. How was I going to do this show? People were coming in from all over, incl biz folks from Hamburg, to see this show. I knew the house would be full. What the hell? My usual strategy in this case: take a nap. The Sonic Ballroom has a band apartment upstairs, so as the late afternoon sun was glowing, blazing even, thru the window, I got an hour and more of sleep. But it didn’t do much for my voice. The soundcheck--impossible. I couldn’t sing at all. What to do? As I sat there panicking, Viktoria, from ROBA music offered to call me a doctor. And she not only did that, but managed to make it so I could taxi to a hospital just 5 minutes away, walk in, and was having a cortisone shot in like 5 minutes. Back to club and resting. Trying not to talk too much. I had to watch Billy, tho, I wouldn’t dream of missing that. They were great, Billy is really a unique, beautiful, fascinating artist...she acts out many little roles in her songs (not in a corny/cabaret way) just...little shifts in her eyes and voice do a lot. The band, different I believe than the people who played on the album, are really cool, and play the songs....like the album but more extended...more jams....great stuff. People ate it UP. Then it was our turn. Uh oh....could I do this??? Yes, we can. Needles in my arm that evening, voiceless that afternoon...and we SCORCHED it. I found my voice...and my body...and we really tore it up. Tiny stage, packed house...this is how a rock show should be. People REALLY loved it. Billy was a tough act to follow but...it was clear that I was backed against the wall with my health and I wasn’t going to let it beat me. I fought. Fought my way back. TRIUMPH. Bed. AMSTERDAM, 2/28 It wasn’t over yet. I was up at nine, Various Disciplines and Firms conked out in bunk beds, oblivious to my departure. Martine, who via liking REM became curious to see the D’s when they played Holland, and now has become a real fan, and we have seen her enough now to say she’s a friend, had offered to drive me from the Koln show (she was one of many out of town fans at this show) to the JB Meijers show in Amsterdam. That sounded nice, and it was, we chatted a bit but also I had to seriously woodshed on the songs of JB’s that I hadn’t played live before...no days off recently to do any practicing on my own, which I felt bad about...but i listened and made notes during the two hour drive. Arriving at the Paradiso in the pissing rain...I was pretty broken. It was nice to see JB and band and Rene the sound engineer...and the Paradiso of course is gorgeous. But I was in no condition, really, to be there. Which was sad, cuz my opportunities to play with JB are a bit rare, and this of course was an important night for him, and I wanted to be able to give it all the energy it deserved. At soundcheck I was sort half alive. I could play tho, my fingers were in good shape and the songs we were playing for the first time...hell, the guys had rehearsed the day before and I think I made less errors, at least, than the collective....hehe. Well. Anyway, the music part, I could do that, limping back to the RAF base on one engine as I was, it was doable. Singing? All those great harmonies from JB’s record...and the fact we were doing two Disciplines songs and “You Become The Dawn”....oh man...I had literally nothing but a broken victrola sound coming out. Doctor? Soon we had one. It wasn’t long before a rather shocked JB was squeezing my arm to pop a vein, and ANOTHER needle was going in (I don’t like them...but I am starting to feel like a made-for-TV-movie of some rock star that needs to get jabbed before every show). I felt a little better. Remember, that since Koln I was on antibiotics too. Still, I was pretty messed up, and it was clear that jamming steroids in me wasn’t going to make me a great singer. After check, and some delicious Thai food from a friend of JB’s who owns a Thai resto, I went back to my lair--for musical and health reasons I had claimed the prod. office as my own dressing room, and after check I moved my keyboard down there from the stage to do more rehearsing--using ear buds and larger headphones over them I could listen to JB’s record and the keyboard at the same time. Then The Girls, the support band, went on, and it got REALLY loud. So, that was rehearsing, although when I went to the toilet to get something to blow my nose into, I would pass the old, funky piano in the hall and practice a few things. JB showed me this great Dr. John lick from his song “It’s Not Easy” so I wanted to work that in (and I did...like twice per verse! haha). Now, The Girls were the band I was scheduled to work with starting the following day, so I wanted to watch them, but I had to settle for snatches between all the getting ready stuff I had to do. But they did sound really, really good. I was familiar with their demos but....man. This was much bigger, stronger...ballsier. But that’s demos for ya. Let’s say that I wasn’t so much surprised as I was pleased at how much better the show sounded. Now, another factor had entered my thoughts--actually, two. Saturday night was a night when Mother Earth fired a shot across humanity’s bow. As usual, no one in the wheelhouse was paying attention. But for several hundred Chileans and several doezen Europeans, the message was profound, albeit perhaps not clear. I have some great friends in Chile, who all turned out to be OK. But the storm called Xynthia had local repercussions, the extent of which I am still trying to determine. La Rochelle and my beloved Ile de Re were battered. Ile de Re was reduced to its medieval component islands--the sea reclaimed that which humans had lain claim to for centuries. The dikes failed, the land flooded. St. Clement-les-Baleines, evidently, is underwater, perhaps permanently. And our house? We still don’t know. The island was not accessible, but Dom is headed there today to have a look, and start photographing for insurance. Neighbors of ours in Paris who have a house on the northern side of the island found their house, which was just remodeled last year, filled with mud. But, then, in Amsterdam, we were on....I truly had nothing to lose. My shot kicked in enough that I could, with effort, sort of sing. I did my best, anyway, and it wasn’t horrible. Sound came out, it was just a little hard to control and it wasn’t that powerful. I did have a lot of fun playing keys...basically, I just listened to changes and improvised like I always do, but with the foundation that I know the songs in my head, but then in the show it’s time to throw away the road map and drive wherever the sun is shining. True, I have notes with lyrics and chords, but I take a glance only when needed, and generally....feel it. So, after the Disciplines shows, this was like, liberation. However, I was still scheduled to sing three songs--”You Become the Dawn” and “Oslo” in the set, and we did Best Mistake in the encore. I went to the front of the stage for the D’s songs, and by encore time, they actually kinda brought down the house. People admired the energy, anyway...and the weird interlude that this music (excellently played by JB & band) provided in JB’s program. I mean, it’s all music, in the end, but...when you’re a songwriter it’s also personal. But it shows the confidence and generosity that JB has, to slide these curveballs in....we also did a song from the band of the guitar player, Wouter, that was like “So Good to See You” by Cheap Trick but in half speed....all in all, a great fun show, much less nerve wracking than the first show we did (last October)...well-attended, well played. No need to say, as soon as it was done...I high-tailed it to my hotel and immediately crashed. The following day JB picked me up and we drove out to the country, where JB is a partner in a studio, built in a barn. Well, sort of. It’s an old school farm house, which means, there’s a little house that’s actually part of the barn. The house part is where the studio is--you enter and you’re in the small kitchen--the sole bathroom is also the shower stall. You go thru a door and you’re in the main room, where the music happens, as well as where the dining room table is. Then there’s a control room, which must have been the main bedroom back in the day. The rest of the building is barn....it’s big, it’s lofty, it’s raw, it’s freezing cold. The rain stopped after the first day, and the two days I worked after that...I started to feel better, physically, and the sun came out, and that really seemed to help. The project: the second album for The Girls. The G’s are a young band, led by singer Robin, who is all of 23. Their guitarist, Rolf is like 19. Then there’s Sander, the drummer, who’s in his 20s (Lagwagon fan) and there’s in theory a bass player--they are playing live with a guy named Tim, but he’s busy with a new job and couldn’t make these sessions. We had other issues too--the mixing console didn’t work. The power supply was in the hands of a studio tech in Amsterdam and he wasn’t really returning calls. So...a little repatching, and such...but also, we weren’t allowed to do drums after 7pm. No bass player. Hmmm. Lots of limitations. We spent the first day waiting to see if the repair would happen or not, then setting up when we realized...not. OK. Anyway, we got the drums mic’d up. I was silently relieved that we didn’t get too heavy into it...I just needed a day to recover some physical and mental strength. Normally, going into the studio the day after a show would be...normal, even fun. But I was pretty beaten up. So, I helped make the drums sound a little better--advising tuning, dampening, changing a head, snare whatever. We played a little music with me on bass, working on song arrangements. Then everyone went to their accommodations, and I pulled out the duvet that JB had provided me and curled up on the studio sofa. I *love* sleeping in studios, with the warm gear, and comfy couches...ah. The next two days were really productive--we got the drums going, and managed to cut most of the drum tracks for the album. I was constantly making advisements on styles, parts, drum fills, many things came to light and to life in the work we did. I played some bass on a couple songs, and by the last day, Robin was putting on some great guitar parts on a song. We got along really well, and to help with the craziness in the mixing-console-less studio, we had Wieger, the engineer who was happy to plug in cables and troubleshoot. I nibbled smoked horse meat from the local supermarket. I slept reasonable amounts in the evening, and rose to see the sun shining in the windows. I caught up on emails on the off hours, and finally listened to the Disciplines new master (amazing). And I really enjoyed the boys in the Girls, and their music. We got along really well, and I believe they came to trust and respect my counsel. When JB rolled in to pick me up last night, I was in a great mood, feeling so much better (if not 100% back in shape). We went back to Amsterdam, and paid a visit to studio 150, where I’ll be working for a day next week, and crashed at his place. PARIS, 3/4 In the morning, we dropped me at the train station and I went back to Paris on the Thalys, in first class much to my surprise. The three+ hours on the train went by quickly in that compartment--between lunch, wifi and just being pleased with myself there was a lot to be done. We arrived at Gare du Nord and I took the metro home. My reunion with Dom was brief, but enjoyable, she had lunch prepared, and we joked and caught up while I unpacked and packed for tomorrow. We checked out the attic, which had been cleaned up and drywalled. Then, I had to go to soundcheck. Yes, it was tough to be at home for such a short episode. Plus, it was a local show--that meant, unlike most days, where I just show up at a club and magically the gear is all there (except, perhaps, in Seville)--I was on my own here. We ordered a minivan cab, and I hauled my stuff down our three flights of stairs--guitar, amp, my enormous Kurzweil digital piano, its stand, and a duffel bag of cables, CDs etc. Dom had to help me with the keys. The cab and I headed to the center of Paris, and we pulled up Le Scopitone. Kristov and his guitarist Clement were waiting for me on the street, I called when we were close so they could be on the kerb when the cab pulled up, and we took my stuff down into the club. Le Scopitone is the former Paris-Paris, a place I never went to, but was certainly trendy in its day. My gut feeling is Le Scopitone is much better in terms of sound, atmosphere etc. --Paris-Paris was mostly for dancing but when bands did play there it was legendary for horrific sound. But Le Scopitone has great sound, a sophisticated atmosphere, and a little separation between showroom and bar. Well, arches anyway. When I rehearsed the week before with Kristov and band, we had no bass player, but one had been found, Thomas, with dreads and all. We ran thru each song once and then I headed back home on the metro, and had a steak tartare at home with Dom. This is always a good way to fuel up before a show. Lean and mean. Dom tried on 8 different outfits, and then we hopped a cab to the gig. Kristov and band were playing when I arrived, and friends of mine started to trickle in. As it was kind of a tight schedule that evening, I was supposed to play from 10.15-11.15....easy money! I wasn’t going to fight it, you know...tho I can play for 3 hours, being that I wasn’t sure how well I was going to sing, still fighting the cold...I was OK with an hour show. Anyway, they were ready for me, and my friends were there, and people seemed ready so I went on at ten. Dragged the mic out onto the floor and played mostly new songs, some old. It was a little noisy at the bar even tho the people in the room were really quiet--which is a real compliment, knowing how much French people blah blah at any opportunity--but still, with my weakened condition and the ambient noise I felt it better to move on and off the mic rather than discard it completely. People were absolutely OK with the arrangement. I played a few songs on guitar and then got the band onstage. We started with me on guitar, still standing in front of the stage, then I moved to the piano. With almost no rehearsal I thought the band did an amazing job. “Shit Talkers!” was a highlight, and a general crowd favorite. I did my best to put Dom on the spot with a song written absolutely about and for her (I have many) called “You’re A Sign”...it was hard to sing and not get all choked up...! I told the band to take five and did a couple of songs on the piano, new and old. Then they came back we did “Doesn’t It Remind You” with the *very* tall Dorothee from Control singing the duet with me...she was awesome. That was supposed to be the end, but in fact, people wanted more so I did a couple more songs on guitar and then wrapped it up. It was a short show by KS standards, but in fact there was a DJ set after me, and a whole other night of DJs starting at midnite, so I was slotted for my hour and actually played a little bit more by starting early. Everyone was happy. My voice was actually pretty good, I was able to sing well between coughs. Dom and I went upstairs and called a minivan cab...that took awhile but we got my stuff loaded in, and I managed to get the piano up to the flat (3rd floor) by myself while Dom helped me shuttle the rest of the stuff up. Soon the flat was kind of back to normal, and despite the fact I was still sick and on antibiotics we allowed ourselves a celebratory glass of wine, watched a horrible variety program on French TV, ate an apple, went to bed. CANTU, 3/4 Up at seven, with a new twist--it’s the first time I have been up in the morning at home for a flight and it’s not still dark out. The sun was out, the sky was blue--it was still quite cold, but it’s amazing what light does for the body and the mind. I was out the door at 8.30, took the bus around the corner to where there’s a cab stand and was at Orly in sort of short order. I hadn’t been able to check anywhere that the air traffic controller strike was still on, but I was pretty sure it had been stated to last five days, so I wasn hoping for the best. What I found when I arrived was that things were not only back to normal, but no one was traveling. Orly was pretty quiet, and checking in and going thru security was absolutely easy. Our flight left a little late but it didn’t matter. I was tired tho, and sort of wished it was a two-hour flight somewhere rather than a one-hour flight to Milan. We were there, I got my bag and guitar, and exited the bag claim area to find Flav T Mastrangelo waiting for me. Flav is a drummer, songwriter, singer, guitar player and enough of a fan to make the effort to organize three solo shows in Italy, and here I was. We got in his car, and started heading to lunch with his record label partner Gialuca, at a restaurant in Seveso. Little did I know that his family *owned* the restaurant. Well, that was later...haha, first we had to get lost a few times on the freeways that wind around Milano--right then, I said....we put Cass McCombs and I went to sleep. And woke up when we arrived at the place, perfect. In my half awake state I managed to turn on an alarm in the bathroom, somehow. Awesome. Soon we were eating polenta and some kind of very salty, dried, large sardine-like fish called aringa. There was wonderful wine, too--I had to break with the antibiotic ban for that, it was a Tuscan red called Morellino de Scansano. On the wine list it was €18, so imagine a store it would be half that--what a great wine for the price....for any price, really. *Now* I needed a nap. Flav or the venue had arranged for an empty flat in Cantu, the small town about 40 min. north of Milano where Flav hails from. I zonked right out, and woke up when Flav came to get me for soundcheck. OK....it’s all going to be OK....hahah. It was dark now, and cold. We got to the venue, with the ridiculously long name All’Una E Trentacinque Circa and found the piano set up, and it was a great piano, and an amp set up, and did some soundchecking, and it sounded just fine...then the venue fed me, a nice bit of carpaccio and salad. It’s a new space inside, might look a little clean at first, but when it started to fill up with people it seemed lively and friendly. Well, we had to run back to the flat for something, now I can’t remember why, hahaha. But we came back and Flav and his bandmate Massi went on doing Flav’s songs---they trade the acoustic guitar and tambourine back and forth and sing in unison, and Flav hits a kick drum pedal as it goes along...catchy tunes about Jesus and Italy. Then I did my show, and found myself playing to an absolutely wonderful audience. The tiny stage has tables and chairs around it, but behind that, there were tons of people wedged in between the bar and the front door, craning their necks to hear and see. My voice was a little weak to do much off the mic stuff but it was working. Long notes that I sang caused pressure to build up in my sinuses and it hurt quite a bit, but I am nitpicking here. It was a great show, from the POV of vibe and feeling, even if I wasn’t technically at my best singing wise. People were really into it. I was able to play all my new songs, and old ones. They wouldn’t let me stop, actually. But at some point...I had to ahahah. After the show one of the attendees said something really beautiful: “Here in Cantu we live near the mountains, we do a lot of skiing. Most people ski down the easier runs, but a few lucky ones get to ski in fresh snow--they go where other skiers can’t or won’t. When we listened to your songs tonight, yes, we can hear a few familiar moments--a bit Elton John when you’re at the piano, a bit of this, a bit of that...but for most of the show...you are skiing on fresh snow. You are Ken Stringfellow, and nothing more and nothing less. And it’s for that we love what you do.” Amen. I went back to the flat looking up at the beautiful clear night of stars. I called Dom and found that the house on Ile de Re was miraculously spared any damage from the storm. Laying down in the hide-a-bed in the flat, I drifted off...and woke right back up. The cold medicine that I had taken hours before the show somehow decided to kick in *then*. This is Rhinadvil, powerful French stuff. Dom had let me take some on tour with the words “these aren’t bonbons. Be careful!”. I had taken it the week before when I just couldn’t stand blowing my nose every two seconds when I was trying to get things done...and it was OK. But this time...hahah. Well, I woke up eyes wide open, my ears hypertuning into every ambient sound (and this is a small town, so it was pretty quiet). Water dripping in the radiator was tuning itself to piano notes, plink plink ploink...a bird that was cooing somewhere was turning into some kind of Martin Denny hoo HOO HOO ha HA HA...I was TRIPPING. Heart racing. I couldn’t tell if the flat was cold anymore...it had been quite chilly when I arrived and the heat was on some kind automated thing I couldn’t change so actually it was chilly and the interior of the bed was warm, but I was thrown off...AHHHHHHHHHHH. I fell asleep and woke up and all was calm. It’s sunny and warm-ish for winter near the mountains, and I’m waiting for Flav to pick me up, he has something special arranged for lunch. It’s worth putting my shoes on for and heading down to the lobby...so... It’s not lightly that I take the receipt of the miracles granted me lately. The house on Ile de Re, me being able to perform well in these shows despite some pretty intense illness..just the gift of being alive and having a family and friends like I do...I must say a little prayer of thanks for that...to whatever drives the engine of miracles....call it God or good luck....it’s not me, whatever it is....and I plan to honor it. Love KS Cantu, ITALY

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!!! Subscribe to the RSS feed to keep up to date on all things KS! older news : 8/3/2003 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007 01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007 02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007 03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007 04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007 05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007 06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007 07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007 08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007 09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007 11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007 12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008 02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008 03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008 04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008 05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008 06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008 07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008 08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008 09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008 10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008 11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008 12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009 01/01/2009 - 02/01/2009 02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009 03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009 04/01/2009 - 05/01/2009 05/01/2009 - 06/01/2009 06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009 07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009 08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009 09/01/2009 - 10/01/2009 10/01/2009 - 11/01/2009 11/01/2009 - 12/01/2009 12/01/2009 - 01/01/2010 01/01/2010 - 02/01/2010 02/01/2010 - 03/01/2010 03/01/2010 - 04/01/2010 04/01/2010 - 05/01/2010