I was listening to Harry Nilsson yesterday and the song "One" came on. The lyrics have always been terrific, but I hadn't quite grasped the idea of "One is a number divided by two."
But in my recently experienced temporary re-bachelorhood (Rachel's on a 3-week trip to India), I think I understand it better. Being part of Two means that all One's energy can't get spent on One, some gets spent on Two.
I, for One, think this is an awesome thing. I am completely bored with One (not to mention, He is super-neurotic when Two aren't Twogether.)
Okay, that's just a ramble that I had to express somehow. It's true that "One is the loneliest number," though. The month of November has been a lesson in 1) trying to refocus energies, 2) trying to stay both mentally and physically healthy without a co-pilot, and 3) getting shit done. I have to say, number two has been the most successfully met lesson. I have gotten some shit done, but not as much as I wanted. This has never changed, for all my (now) thirty years, I have always wanted to get more done than I actually do. Even when what I've done has been, well, a lot.
In My Dream Last Night: I was recording an album at Brian Speaker's house. We couldn't decide on the kick drum rhythm. There was a track listing for the album! And I can't remember a damn thing from it! Which leads me to tangential rant number six-thousand-and-three:
I wish I had a better memory. This week, at the Bushwick Book Club, we all sang songs about Nabokov's "Despair", a book I truly loathed. Me and the "unreliable narrator" would have bar fights if we could. I wrote a song about "Dostoyevsky" and being the Bearded Lady. I don't know why but it felt super honest (Dostoyevsky kicks Nabakov's ass, and the other day, a guy treated me like a circus act, asking me to my face, "Is that a real beard?" I incredulously asked him if he was serious, and walked away.)
Lots of people wrote songs about interesting parts of that book. Parts that I didn't remember. I couldn't remember a significant detail of the plot that was really interesting, once other people brought it up. I have trouble with names of friends-of-friends all the time, and even people I've met on more than one occasion. I envy people who can remember all kinds of details.
NOTE: I'm not talking about times when brains get so substantially altered that it would be understandable (or at least explainable) that one "doesn't remember". That's totally not what I'm talking about here. Though I am also constantly amazed by people who do not have this problem.
I don't remember a lot of my childhood. I have flashes, very specific memories, but not a progression. Some people I know remember lots of things from growing up. I feel like I have a photo album of important moments. But for example - my fifth birthday. I don't remember that. My nephew just turned four (and already knows about Black Holes, I should mention!) - will he remember his Pirate Party, twenty five years from now?
I don't know why I'm blogging. I'm not good at doing it regularly. I guess, I'm on one of those upticks with writing at the moment, and this is part of it.
Is there a good way to increase memory? Ginko Biloba? Would that work? I had a teacher in high school who was so forgetful and would always say, "Time to start taking Ginko Biloba!
What a great name for a band. What kind of music would it be? Math Rock? Hippie Tribal? Insert idea _(here)_.
Watched Bob Fosse's "Lenny Bruce" movie the other day (night) and was fascinated. I feel like I could do that kind of comedy, like what's funny about society. Here's something I was thinking about the other day, before seeing this movie:
A group of people are sitting around a table, drinking coffees and talking about movies. One says, "Oh, who's that actor in that movie we saw?" And another says, "OH, umm, he's the one, the one from that TV show. What's his name?" And another says, "The one from 24?" and the first one says, "No, not him. The OTHER one..." And the fourth person picks up his iPhone, and says, "Hold on a sec, I'll look it up." And everyone reaches for their coffee cups, takes a sip, while person four tap-taps on the glass, and hits enter. Waiting for the page to load....person three says something like "So how was the movie?" and person two says, "Well, it was um, you know, it was just okay."
Person four is staring at his phone, which after three minutes, says, "Unable to load the requested page" and he says, "It can't connect." He tries again, and then three minutes later, shakes his head, and says, "Oh well." The conversation slips into something about this random blog by a fledgling songwriter in Brooklyn.
Now, what happened here? A perfectly good brain bank of four people couldn't find the name of a famous actor on the tips of their tongues, and so they ask the internet. Then the internet fails. I've been in conversations (hell, I've been the guy with the iPhone) where honest communication has been pre-empted by technological consultation. And what's actually not connecting here? The phone, or us?
I wish I could remember the track listing from my dreams. I do remember that one song was going to be solo (I had put a band together for the album) and I thought, in the dream, "well, that's good, a lot of band albums could benefit from a solo track."
A solo track. One is okay sometimes I guess.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Tour Diary Part Two - Dietary Promise / Alternative Spaces
Took Rachel's yoga class yesterday. I think if sweat could be weighed per bead my sweat would hold a guinness record for the heaviest sweat. I could literally feel myself getting healthier and lighter. It was necessary. I'll probably go back a few times this week, maybe even start a routine. The Sacred studio is incredible, and yesterday two of the teachers there won a pole dancing competition at Galapagos. Very cool!
It's not that tour is by nature unhealthy. It's just unpredictable. For example, on Day Two we ate healthy salads and flatbread pizza for dinner (prepared by the guy who runs KulturBunker, an incredible place in Köln-Mulheim)..
then drank until 2AM.
It's a bit of a balancing act. We try to explain it this way to our non-touring friends: Think of what you might do on Friday night when you go partying. Now imagine 35 days in a row, where every night is Friday night. That's what we're in for.
Some times it's really easy to stay healthy. For example, we take the trains, which means for at least a few hours, I'm resting and not smoking. Since Rachel is vegetarian the food we eat is usually pretty healthy. Even on days where we eat a falafel, it still feels pretty healthy. I' made a rule that any day I see sprouts for sale I will buy them. Spouts are such good food. And healthy vegetables in Europe are so much cheaper than in America!
Sometimes it's hard, when I'm super hungry I'll buy a Döner Kebab (aka Schwarma. Gyro, Pita Sandwich, etc) for a couple euros just to stay steady. That's not the healthiest food (but it is some of the best tasting and ubiquitous food in Germany). It's best to go to the places marked "Halal", because well, the food is usually higher quality and the place is clean in the next-to-godliness kind of ways. And not just in Germany - this is one of my favorite-kebabs-of-all-time from Lyon.
On Day 3 we went to Wuppertal and were thrilled to see our great friend Basti. We met through Creaky Boards, and he was throwing shows in Bonn last year when Rachel and I came through. We have a nice friendship and he is a huge music fan. After the show, he was playing Frank Hoier's music on his iPod - and Rachel runs up to him to say, "How do you know about Frank Hoier?" "I found him online one day. Turns out you know him, right?" Yeah, umm, we've known Frank for like five years. We've played in bands and on albums together.
The show in Wuppertal was actually right in the train station. Basti moved to Wuppertal for a job, and is trying to bring good music to a town which otherwise has very little music. His uncle has a shop in the station, and there's this multi-purpose room which Basti converts into a venue for concerts. It's pretty cool and there are taxidermy foxes around (Something about Wuppertal has to do with foxes.)
It was a great show, it feels so good to play to attentive audiences. They paid to get in, and since there's not a whole lot to do in Wuppertal, they seemed really into the show. It was the 10th anniversary of Joey Ramone's death, so Basti had suggested that each band play a Ramones cover. So we prepared "Bonzo Goes To Bitburg." The other band, Schreng Schreng & LaLa (who will hopefully be touring the states soon) prepared "Poison Heart." We ended up playing both songs together, plus an encore of "I Wanna Be Sedated." It was really fun and we found some old train conductor hats in the station which we wore for the encore.
Afterwards we went to Basti's place with a bunch of people from the show, and Rachel crashed early while I had long conversations about how in Germany there's a word for everything. My friend Lasse asked me, "what's the word in English for a word you take directly from another language?" I tried to find it, but turns out there's not a specific word for this. Best I can come up with a "borrowed word", or "loanword". Examples of loanwords from Germany to the English Language are rucksack, blitzkrieg, delicatessen, zeppelin, and probably the most famous, "kindergarten". Other examples (and there are so many) would be "a la carte" or "faux pas" (French) or "armada" and "vigilante" (Spanish).
It was ironic that we're talking about words borrowed from Germany, and what's the English word for that, and there isn't one. However, there is one German word that this whole idea of borrowed words makes me think of.
The next night in Bochum we met up with Sabine, a good friend who's largely responsible for connecting my ex-Creaky Boards-bandmate Darwin Deez with Lucky Numbers records and helping him along his ambition rise in popularity. It's really nice to see our friendships helping our careers a bit. Darwin's success is the most obvious example of this, I think. But also, the fact that we have so many shows and are able to pay our tour costs is largely due to the efforts of a wide network of friends all over the continent.
And thanks to the cats like Lenny who make people like Sabine feel good.
We had our second show at Rottstrasse 5 theatre. It's under an elevated train platform, in a kind of airplane-hangar shaped room. We love this space. Every twenty minutes a train rattles by overhead. Last year the power went out and for a few minutes we had to contemplate playing an all-acoustic show. This year the sound setup was extra great, and no power issues. We rocked the show, playing for about two hours.
Our friend Rick came to the show. He's what we call a "Superfan". I will save a special blog (and a special place in my heart) for the Superfans. They are always going to come to the shows, they are always so enthusiastic, and a really nice reminder of why it matters that we keep touring, as much as possible. In particular, Rick is a very thoughtful guy, and very well versed in Folk Music. I love his stories.
design by extreme silkscreen
So, the first four shows of tour were on a boat, in a bunker, in a train station, and in a theatre under an elevated train. Tomorrow we start the theaters, and the next show of tour was one of the biggest shows we've ever played. In Bonn, Germany.
It's not that tour is by nature unhealthy. It's just unpredictable. For example, on Day Two we ate healthy salads and flatbread pizza for dinner (prepared by the guy who runs KulturBunker, an incredible place in Köln-Mulheim)..
then drank until 2AM.
It's a bit of a balancing act. We try to explain it this way to our non-touring friends: Think of what you might do on Friday night when you go partying. Now imagine 35 days in a row, where every night is Friday night. That's what we're in for.
Some times it's really easy to stay healthy. For example, we take the trains, which means for at least a few hours, I'm resting and not smoking. Since Rachel is vegetarian the food we eat is usually pretty healthy. Even on days where we eat a falafel, it still feels pretty healthy. I' made a rule that any day I see sprouts for sale I will buy them. Spouts are such good food. And healthy vegetables in Europe are so much cheaper than in America!
Sometimes it's hard, when I'm super hungry I'll buy a Döner Kebab (aka Schwarma. Gyro, Pita Sandwich, etc) for a couple euros just to stay steady. That's not the healthiest food (but it is some of the best tasting and ubiquitous food in Germany). It's best to go to the places marked "Halal", because well, the food is usually higher quality and the place is clean in the next-to-godliness kind of ways. And not just in Germany - this is one of my favorite-kebabs-of-all-time from Lyon.
On Day 3 we went to Wuppertal and were thrilled to see our great friend Basti. We met through Creaky Boards, and he was throwing shows in Bonn last year when Rachel and I came through. We have a nice friendship and he is a huge music fan. After the show, he was playing Frank Hoier's music on his iPod - and Rachel runs up to him to say, "How do you know about Frank Hoier?" "I found him online one day. Turns out you know him, right?" Yeah, umm, we've known Frank for like five years. We've played in bands and on albums together.
The show in Wuppertal was actually right in the train station. Basti moved to Wuppertal for a job, and is trying to bring good music to a town which otherwise has very little music. His uncle has a shop in the station, and there's this multi-purpose room which Basti converts into a venue for concerts. It's pretty cool and there are taxidermy foxes around (Something about Wuppertal has to do with foxes.)
It was a great show, it feels so good to play to attentive audiences. They paid to get in, and since there's not a whole lot to do in Wuppertal, they seemed really into the show. It was the 10th anniversary of Joey Ramone's death, so Basti had suggested that each band play a Ramones cover. So we prepared "Bonzo Goes To Bitburg." The other band, Schreng Schreng & LaLa (who will hopefully be touring the states soon) prepared "Poison Heart." We ended up playing both songs together, plus an encore of "I Wanna Be Sedated." It was really fun and we found some old train conductor hats in the station which we wore for the encore.
Afterwards we went to Basti's place with a bunch of people from the show, and Rachel crashed early while I had long conversations about how in Germany there's a word for everything. My friend Lasse asked me, "what's the word in English for a word you take directly from another language?" I tried to find it, but turns out there's not a specific word for this. Best I can come up with a "borrowed word", or "loanword". Examples of loanwords from Germany to the English Language are rucksack, blitzkrieg, delicatessen, zeppelin, and probably the most famous, "kindergarten". Other examples (and there are so many) would be "a la carte" or "faux pas" (French) or "armada" and "vigilante" (Spanish).
It was ironic that we're talking about words borrowed from Germany, and what's the English word for that, and there isn't one. However, there is one German word that this whole idea of borrowed words makes me think of.
The next night in Bochum we met up with Sabine, a good friend who's largely responsible for connecting my ex-Creaky Boards-bandmate Darwin Deez with Lucky Numbers records and helping him along his ambition rise in popularity. It's really nice to see our friendships helping our careers a bit. Darwin's success is the most obvious example of this, I think. But also, the fact that we have so many shows and are able to pay our tour costs is largely due to the efforts of a wide network of friends all over the continent.
And thanks to the cats like Lenny who make people like Sabine feel good.
We had our second show at Rottstrasse 5 theatre. It's under an elevated train platform, in a kind of airplane-hangar shaped room. We love this space. Every twenty minutes a train rattles by overhead. Last year the power went out and for a few minutes we had to contemplate playing an all-acoustic show. This year the sound setup was extra great, and no power issues. We rocked the show, playing for about two hours.
Our friend Rick came to the show. He's what we call a "Superfan". I will save a special blog (and a special place in my heart) for the Superfans. They are always going to come to the shows, they are always so enthusiastic, and a really nice reminder of why it matters that we keep touring, as much as possible. In particular, Rick is a very thoughtful guy, and very well versed in Folk Music. I love his stories.
design by extreme silkscreen
So, the first four shows of tour were on a boat, in a bunker, in a train station, and in a theatre under an elevated train. Tomorrow we start the theaters, and the next show of tour was one of the biggest shows we've ever played. In Bonn, Germany.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Return of the Blog. Tour Diary Part One
I've decided to do a recap blog of the Rachel and Dan tour. Nothing too official, and probably a bit one-sided. But I want to give a taste of our travels, and also it's a great excuse to warm back up into storytelling, which I'm going to do a bit more of this summer. I'll try and write one each day this week. Hopefully there's enough to tell! Should be pretty easy to find the time - there's little work on my plate, and due to jet-lag, I'm waking up REALLY early. Yesterday I woke up at 4:30AM (that's 10:30AM Europe-time), to discover that there are birds already chirping at 4:30AM. And then I remembered a quote which I think is attributed to the Dalai Lama, something like: "If I wake up and the birds are already chirping, I know I've already wasted the day." Besides being too much of a perfectionist, I bet the Dalai gets pretty grumpy during the summer month's of early sunrise. Or does he just let that go?
I didn't get up that early today. I stayed out late reuniting with some friends, hearing good music and catching up, and today I slept till 9:30AM. Take that, jet-lag! Ate some food (man I missed my kitchen) and have sat down in a quiet house to write a little bit. It's kinda awesome coming home from tour - drinking out of my favorite coffee mug, or having a large computer screen to work on - or wearing a shirt I didn't have for five weeks - things that seemed really quotidian or unnoticeable before tour, seem like a fun novelty now. It's also fun to be home because it's a bit like New Year's Day - trying to set up some new goals and patterns as its a time of change. Some of that change involves writing a lot more. I didn't write anything on tour that was longer than 420 characters. Welcome back, long-form.
Tour Blog One: Tour Prep / It Begins Again
Tour preparations begin weeks before the tour. Months, actually. Some places where we play program their music schedule six months in advance. Most of them are more like three months in advance. It's kinda nerve-fraying stuff, to book a tour. People have asked me if I'd be interested in doing that professionally. No, never. It's so excruciating at times (for lots of reasons worthy of a whole other blog post), and since we're not talking about tens of thousands of dollars in profit, there really isn't enough money for it to be anything but a labor of love. We tour because we have fans and friends all over the world. And we want to see them. And we want to play for them, and their friends, and hopefully each time the circle gets bigger. Right now, we're not packing stadiums. I suppose if we ever do, there will be enough budget for a booking agent.
We also make our own t-shirts and cds - so three weeks before tour, Rachel and I are screen-printing shirts at Bushwick Print Lab. Also we manufacture our own CDs - we get them burned at Engine Room Audio, and get sleeves printed by an awesome guy in North Carolina named Rodney (whose band is here). Since we're DIY, we try and use independent companies instead of big chains like Discmakers or something. We spent one whole day making t-shirts. Then we spent one whole day glueing the sleeves together, stuffing them with CDs and affixing stickers to keep them in. It's a lot of work, but it's cheaper than the mass production way, and also uses a lot less plastic.
Also, it should be noted: Up to three weeks before tour, Rachel and I spent the entire winter making a new album. A new album called "Damn Monsters!" which we needed to finish before the tour. Making a new album right before tour may not be the best idea. Because recording always takes longer than scheduled, and especially when it's DIY that puts a lot of pressure on us to finish it in time enough to have copies for the road, and also, for it to be really good under those constraints. Fortunately, we're awesome, didn't kill each other under the stress, and got everything done in time. Frazzled, but satisfied.
And then, BAM, time to go.
So by the time we leave for tour, we have 31 concerts confirmed, two hanging in limbo, and three scheduled days off. So, 33 concerts planned in 35 days. And we have a suitcase full of t-shirts and CDs (including one made three weeks earlier). And we have a new stage show with lots of fun new toys we bought for tour, including Rachel's fancy new synth:
And, we have friends staying in our apartment while we are gone, which is nice. I'm not so cool with subletting my apartment to strangers. I would do it out of necessity, and I guess it wouldn't be so bad - our friend Debe lives with us, so subletters couldn't easily trash the place, as she would kick their unsuspecting asses. We like our apartment. Fortunately some great musician friends were moving back to NYC and needed a place to stay while they found a new place. And they have the definitive Debe Dalton Seal-Of-Approval:
Photo by Stephen Edgar
Five weeks is a long tour, and we carry all our own stuff. Clothes, instruments, t-shirts, CDs, some food and toiletries, and all the other things that you take either camping, or to the office. Last tour we brought too many clothes. This year we probably brought too many CDs. We carry everything in one overnight bag (a heavy backpack I carry), one rolling suitcase full of t-shirts, cds and small instruments, Rachel wears her cool new synth in a cool new synth backpack, and I carry my guitar. All in all, I bet what we carry and roll totals about 150 pounds - or as I learned on google, about 68 kilos.
68 kilos doesn't sound so impressive. I think we have feet and meters and such in America just to make the quantity of units sound more impressive. "You only weigh 68 kilos, man? Well, I way 150 pounds…." The British have "stones", which as I discussed in Toulouse with Thomas, the drummer of the UK band Vessels, is something that only the British would have.
We approach JFK airport with everything packed tight into the rolling suitcase, but it weighs too much and they want to charge us a million dollars for an overweight bag - so we unpack some of the heaviest stuff into my backpack. It's funny - they don't get to charge overweight people any extra to ride the plane, but they do get to charge skinny little me extra for a heavy bag. I feel like I should be able to point to the 225lb (102 kilos) guy with a laptop bag behind me in line and say to the airline ticketer, "if you add up him and his luggage, and me and mine, we're about even" and see what he says. Oh well. We are lucky to have the backpack, and we check two medium heavy bags for free instead of one heavy bag for $150.
Lufhansa, to its credit, serves free booze in economy class, and offers a hot hand towel before the in-flight meal. The in-flight meal is not horrible. The booze improves it. Rachel always gets the vegetarian option and her food is always better than mine. I always order the chicken one, thinking, "maybe it will be a lot better this time." I'm always wrong.
We hit down in Frankfurt - to meet our friends Bernhard and Amelie. We haven't seen Bernhard in one year. Bernhard is also called Boo Hoo, which is his musical name. We've played a lot together, travelled through Italy and Greece together on tour, and he is in many ways my brother. We have had some incredible conversations, and I really respect and admire his songwriting. He writes better songs in English than most people who speak English as their first language. Germans learn English in school - it's a requirement, so most young Germans have a lot of English. This means that they understand our wordier songs better than, say, Italians do. Italians just like to dance.
We meet Bernhard at the station and he takes us to his flat. We walk upstairs four flights to their beautiful apartment! It takes two of us to carry the rolling suitcase, which is already showing signs of distress. It sags a bit in the middle and sometimes scrapes against the ground. I also think the world needs to pick one or the other: Cobblestones, or Rolling Suitcases. We just can't have both.
Amelie's a graphic designer who make a really beautiful calendar this year! She also does movie reviews for a very old-fashioned German newspaper. We all go out for dinner, have a traditional Frankfurter meal of Green Sauce (a special herby sauce with boiled eggs and potatoes) and Apfelwein. I also get Fleischwurst (which when pronounced correctly sounds like "Flaaaaaaahschvorscht")
It's really nice to see another couple right away on the trip. It feels super casual, like we are just going to visit friends. They just happen to live a seven-hour flight away. But they agree, it feels very natural. It makes me really happy to be on tour. If touring was hotel rooms, room service and all-business it would be no fun at all. After a groovy dinner (tho the fleischwurst was not so good) we head home, have a rum nightcap. Boo Hoo grabs the cushions off the couch and fashions us a bed in his office. We wake up the next morning, Rachel and Amelie go to Yoga, Bernhard and I go to get some Euros. I take a picture of Goethe's house, ironically covered in graffiti. I email it to my dad. Now we're ready to start playing shows.
Amelie and her sister live in the same building, and their parents stop by. They haven't seen Boo and Amelie's new place. They like it. We tell them all about our upcoming trip. We invite them to our show. Boo Hoo takes us over to Radio X for a short interview and to sing a song on the air. We play "Woh Banana" and they love it. The guys sitting around the conference table outside the studio, smoking cigarettes, give us a big thumbs up when we leave the studio.
The show is at Yachtclub, a cool restaurant and venue on a boat in the river. Frankfurt is divided into two halves by the Main river (pronounced "mine"). Lots of European cities are divided by rivers, built around them instead of on just one side. This provides for some interesting separations - rich from poor, business from residential, bohemian from mainstream, etc. Lots of cities have "this side" and "that side", and it all makes me think, "Which side are you on, boy?"
The show is awesome -about 60 people, including friends who we only get to see on tour. Anja is a photographer who was really confused about how to explain the nuclear disaster in Japan to her kids. Laura has a friend who travels and sings but doesn't want to talk about it. Piwi is getting married and asks us to play at the wedding. We say yes, and when? July. So, I guess we're coming back pretty soon.
Piwi drew the art for "Damn Monsters!" and really did a great job. He also did "Recession Songs" which I think is one of the greatest album covers of all time, though I am biased (I told you this might be a one-sided blog).
We work really well together. The "Damn Monsters!" art is interesting because there's another, punker version of it that we'll probably use for the vinyl version. Piwi likes it better. He was also moving house at the time we were working, and I was rushing to finish the album, so we were both kinda stressed but our friendship is the sort that weathers these things well.
Vocal Warmup: "Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be hot, we'll be together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not."
Hmm. I digress.
We hang out late at Yachtclub, start walking, decide to take a cab the rest of the way, and walk up the stairs to Amelie and Bernhard's place, again, with the suitcase, which, again, is showing more signs of wear. This thing's gonna break, for sure. Everyone's tired. We wake up the next morning, ready to rock and roll. Time to go to Cologne.
I didn't get up that early today. I stayed out late reuniting with some friends, hearing good music and catching up, and today I slept till 9:30AM. Take that, jet-lag! Ate some food (man I missed my kitchen) and have sat down in a quiet house to write a little bit. It's kinda awesome coming home from tour - drinking out of my favorite coffee mug, or having a large computer screen to work on - or wearing a shirt I didn't have for five weeks - things that seemed really quotidian or unnoticeable before tour, seem like a fun novelty now. It's also fun to be home because it's a bit like New Year's Day - trying to set up some new goals and patterns as its a time of change. Some of that change involves writing a lot more. I didn't write anything on tour that was longer than 420 characters. Welcome back, long-form.
Tour Blog One: Tour Prep / It Begins Again
Tour preparations begin weeks before the tour. Months, actually. Some places where we play program their music schedule six months in advance. Most of them are more like three months in advance. It's kinda nerve-fraying stuff, to book a tour. People have asked me if I'd be interested in doing that professionally. No, never. It's so excruciating at times (for lots of reasons worthy of a whole other blog post), and since we're not talking about tens of thousands of dollars in profit, there really isn't enough money for it to be anything but a labor of love. We tour because we have fans and friends all over the world. And we want to see them. And we want to play for them, and their friends, and hopefully each time the circle gets bigger. Right now, we're not packing stadiums. I suppose if we ever do, there will be enough budget for a booking agent.
We also make our own t-shirts and cds - so three weeks before tour, Rachel and I are screen-printing shirts at Bushwick Print Lab. Also we manufacture our own CDs - we get them burned at Engine Room Audio, and get sleeves printed by an awesome guy in North Carolina named Rodney (whose band is here). Since we're DIY, we try and use independent companies instead of big chains like Discmakers or something. We spent one whole day making t-shirts. Then we spent one whole day glueing the sleeves together, stuffing them with CDs and affixing stickers to keep them in. It's a lot of work, but it's cheaper than the mass production way, and also uses a lot less plastic.
Also, it should be noted: Up to three weeks before tour, Rachel and I spent the entire winter making a new album. A new album called "Damn Monsters!" which we needed to finish before the tour. Making a new album right before tour may not be the best idea. Because recording always takes longer than scheduled, and especially when it's DIY that puts a lot of pressure on us to finish it in time enough to have copies for the road, and also, for it to be really good under those constraints. Fortunately, we're awesome, didn't kill each other under the stress, and got everything done in time. Frazzled, but satisfied.
And then, BAM, time to go.
So by the time we leave for tour, we have 31 concerts confirmed, two hanging in limbo, and three scheduled days off. So, 33 concerts planned in 35 days. And we have a suitcase full of t-shirts and CDs (including one made three weeks earlier). And we have a new stage show with lots of fun new toys we bought for tour, including Rachel's fancy new synth:
And, we have friends staying in our apartment while we are gone, which is nice. I'm not so cool with subletting my apartment to strangers. I would do it out of necessity, and I guess it wouldn't be so bad - our friend Debe lives with us, so subletters couldn't easily trash the place, as she would kick their unsuspecting asses. We like our apartment. Fortunately some great musician friends were moving back to NYC and needed a place to stay while they found a new place. And they have the definitive Debe Dalton Seal-Of-Approval:
Photo by Stephen Edgar
Five weeks is a long tour, and we carry all our own stuff. Clothes, instruments, t-shirts, CDs, some food and toiletries, and all the other things that you take either camping, or to the office. Last tour we brought too many clothes. This year we probably brought too many CDs. We carry everything in one overnight bag (a heavy backpack I carry), one rolling suitcase full of t-shirts, cds and small instruments, Rachel wears her cool new synth in a cool new synth backpack, and I carry my guitar. All in all, I bet what we carry and roll totals about 150 pounds - or as I learned on google, about 68 kilos.
68 kilos doesn't sound so impressive. I think we have feet and meters and such in America just to make the quantity of units sound more impressive. "You only weigh 68 kilos, man? Well, I way 150 pounds…." The British have "stones", which as I discussed in Toulouse with Thomas, the drummer of the UK band Vessels, is something that only the British would have.
We approach JFK airport with everything packed tight into the rolling suitcase, but it weighs too much and they want to charge us a million dollars for an overweight bag - so we unpack some of the heaviest stuff into my backpack. It's funny - they don't get to charge overweight people any extra to ride the plane, but they do get to charge skinny little me extra for a heavy bag. I feel like I should be able to point to the 225lb (102 kilos) guy with a laptop bag behind me in line and say to the airline ticketer, "if you add up him and his luggage, and me and mine, we're about even" and see what he says. Oh well. We are lucky to have the backpack, and we check two medium heavy bags for free instead of one heavy bag for $150.
Lufhansa, to its credit, serves free booze in economy class, and offers a hot hand towel before the in-flight meal. The in-flight meal is not horrible. The booze improves it. Rachel always gets the vegetarian option and her food is always better than mine. I always order the chicken one, thinking, "maybe it will be a lot better this time." I'm always wrong.
We hit down in Frankfurt - to meet our friends Bernhard and Amelie. We haven't seen Bernhard in one year. Bernhard is also called Boo Hoo, which is his musical name. We've played a lot together, travelled through Italy and Greece together on tour, and he is in many ways my brother. We have had some incredible conversations, and I really respect and admire his songwriting. He writes better songs in English than most people who speak English as their first language. Germans learn English in school - it's a requirement, so most young Germans have a lot of English. This means that they understand our wordier songs better than, say, Italians do. Italians just like to dance.
We meet Bernhard at the station and he takes us to his flat. We walk upstairs four flights to their beautiful apartment! It takes two of us to carry the rolling suitcase, which is already showing signs of distress. It sags a bit in the middle and sometimes scrapes against the ground. I also think the world needs to pick one or the other: Cobblestones, or Rolling Suitcases. We just can't have both.
Amelie's a graphic designer who make a really beautiful calendar this year! She also does movie reviews for a very old-fashioned German newspaper. We all go out for dinner, have a traditional Frankfurter meal of Green Sauce (a special herby sauce with boiled eggs and potatoes) and Apfelwein. I also get Fleischwurst (which when pronounced correctly sounds like "Flaaaaaaahschvorscht")
It's really nice to see another couple right away on the trip. It feels super casual, like we are just going to visit friends. They just happen to live a seven-hour flight away. But they agree, it feels very natural. It makes me really happy to be on tour. If touring was hotel rooms, room service and all-business it would be no fun at all. After a groovy dinner (tho the fleischwurst was not so good) we head home, have a rum nightcap. Boo Hoo grabs the cushions off the couch and fashions us a bed in his office. We wake up the next morning, Rachel and Amelie go to Yoga, Bernhard and I go to get some Euros. I take a picture of Goethe's house, ironically covered in graffiti. I email it to my dad. Now we're ready to start playing shows.
Amelie and her sister live in the same building, and their parents stop by. They haven't seen Boo and Amelie's new place. They like it. We tell them all about our upcoming trip. We invite them to our show. Boo Hoo takes us over to Radio X for a short interview and to sing a song on the air. We play "Woh Banana" and they love it. The guys sitting around the conference table outside the studio, smoking cigarettes, give us a big thumbs up when we leave the studio.
The show is at Yachtclub, a cool restaurant and venue on a boat in the river. Frankfurt is divided into two halves by the Main river (pronounced "mine"). Lots of European cities are divided by rivers, built around them instead of on just one side. This provides for some interesting separations - rich from poor, business from residential, bohemian from mainstream, etc. Lots of cities have "this side" and "that side", and it all makes me think, "Which side are you on, boy?"
The show is awesome -about 60 people, including friends who we only get to see on tour. Anja is a photographer who was really confused about how to explain the nuclear disaster in Japan to her kids. Laura has a friend who travels and sings but doesn't want to talk about it. Piwi is getting married and asks us to play at the wedding. We say yes, and when? July. So, I guess we're coming back pretty soon.
Piwi drew the art for "Damn Monsters!" and really did a great job. He also did "Recession Songs" which I think is one of the greatest album covers of all time, though I am biased (I told you this might be a one-sided blog).
We work really well together. The "Damn Monsters!" art is interesting because there's another, punker version of it that we'll probably use for the vinyl version. Piwi likes it better. He was also moving house at the time we were working, and I was rushing to finish the album, so we were both kinda stressed but our friendship is the sort that weathers these things well.
Vocal Warmup: "Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be hot, we'll be together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not."
Hmm. I digress.
We hang out late at Yachtclub, start walking, decide to take a cab the rest of the way, and walk up the stairs to Amelie and Bernhard's place, again, with the suitcase, which, again, is showing more signs of wear. This thing's gonna break, for sure. Everyone's tired. We wake up the next morning, ready to rock and roll. Time to go to Cologne.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tour Story: Trying to have a conversation in Vitebsk, Belarus
You can only ask me three questions.
Why only three?
OK, two more...
No - what is the difference between NYC and Belarus?
Let me count the ways.
And they argue - Vitebsk is the Washington DC of Belarus.
No, it’s Minsk, on and on and on
Niet, Niet, you don’t know
Yes, because Washington CD is north.
I butt in - NYC is north of Washington DC.
And one hits the other on the shoulder and says, “See!” as if to prove his pioint. They are
competing to be right. They are driving me crazy.
Guys, you cannot compare. How many people in all of Belarus? 4M? 5? OK, in New York City - 12 million. One City - Three Belarus.
OK, you ask us a question.
No, I only have one question and you won’t like it.
We will like it.
No, every time it makes people here angry and defensive.
We will no be angry.
Why is there no active politics in Belarus? Why only Sasha?
Because there is no alternative
Because we know him.
Do you like him?
No! But for us, we know him.
Sounds like Bush in 2004.
You don’t understand, in Belarus there is only Lukashenko!
But you vote.
Yes, but it’s only Lukashenko!
Who does he run against in the election?
Opposition are disappeared. The cops can’t find them.
Maybe they aren’t looking.
Of course they aren’t looking!
Right! You know this, and it’s OK.
What are we....what should we do?
I don’t know...vote for someone else?
No...you don’t understand, there is no one else.
What if YOU run for president?
If there is no Lukashenko, it is anarchy here. Total Chaos.
You’re crazy - you can’t really think that.
It’s true, we cannot have chaos like in Ukraine. There it’s chaos.
No, Ukraine is much more Western, and I don’t think that’s better but they are not afraid...
Ukraine is the Mexico of the United States
And on and on and on...
Why only three?
OK, two more...
No - what is the difference between NYC and Belarus?
Let me count the ways.
And they argue - Vitebsk is the Washington DC of Belarus.
No, it’s Minsk, on and on and on
Niet, Niet, you don’t know
Yes, because Washington CD is north.
I butt in - NYC is north of Washington DC.
And one hits the other on the shoulder and says, “See!” as if to prove his pioint. They are
competing to be right. They are driving me crazy.
Guys, you cannot compare. How many people in all of Belarus? 4M? 5? OK, in New York City - 12 million. One City - Three Belarus.
OK, you ask us a question.
No, I only have one question and you won’t like it.
We will like it.
No, every time it makes people here angry and defensive.
We will no be angry.
Why is there no active politics in Belarus? Why only Sasha?
Because there is no alternative
Because we know him.
Do you like him?
No! But for us, we know him.
Sounds like Bush in 2004.
You don’t understand, in Belarus there is only Lukashenko!
But you vote.
Yes, but it’s only Lukashenko!
Who does he run against in the election?
Opposition are disappeared. The cops can’t find them.
Maybe they aren’t looking.
Of course they aren’t looking!
Right! You know this, and it’s OK.
What are we....what should we do?
I don’t know...vote for someone else?
No...you don’t understand, there is no one else.
What if YOU run for president?
If there is no Lukashenko, it is anarchy here. Total Chaos.
You’re crazy - you can’t really think that.
It’s true, we cannot have chaos like in Ukraine. There it’s chaos.
No, Ukraine is much more Western, and I don’t think that’s better but they are not afraid...
Ukraine is the Mexico of the United States
And on and on and on...
Tour Story: The guy at the bar after the gig, Rotterdam
He was dressed in all black - with a white striped shirt and a white polka dot tie. He wore sunglasses and a black hat, he had shades on and with his dark chocolate skin, he was quite the dapper standout. He kept stumbling up to people and talking. I was intrigued. Finally I went up to him.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“(unintelligible Dutch.)”
“Sorry, I only speak English.”
“Oh. New York.”
“Yeah, what’s your name?”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“Carlos. But you can call me Charley.”
“OK. Do you want a drink, Charlie?”
He touched my hand.
“Keep Cool, Brooklyn,” reading my shirt.
“I’m cool, I just wanted to buy you a drink and find out what your deal is. Are you from Rotterdam?”
“You and me. We fuck.”
“No.”
And I walked away. I had wanted a story, instead I got a proposition. I guess I got a story, after all.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“(unintelligible Dutch.)”
“Sorry, I only speak English.”
“Oh. New York.”
“Yeah, what’s your name?”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“Carlos. But you can call me Charley.”
“OK. Do you want a drink, Charlie?”
He touched my hand.
“Keep Cool, Brooklyn,” reading my shirt.
“I’m cool, I just wanted to buy you a drink and find out what your deal is. Are you from Rotterdam?”
“You and me. We fuck.”
“No.”
And I walked away. I had wanted a story, instead I got a proposition. I guess I got a story, after all.
Tour Story: Anarchy in the Bordeaux Region (AKA “How to throw a house concert”)
Dijon is a town unlike most others. There is a large wealthy community, mostly of people who have lived in Dijon for a long time. There is also the longstanding middle class - the workers, the retired workers. There are then also the youth - and most of the youth are rebellious, sometimes anarchists, always counter-culture. There are also the Abercromie Youth, for whom rebellion is not an acceptable alternative to living a wealthy lifestyle.
And anywhere in here things can get mixed up - an anarchist from a wealthy family. An elderly retired prostitute. The sloppy rich drunk. The shy kid who wants to be a hell-raiser.
Saman is 25 and from Corsica. Until recently he dated Gwen, and the two have a nine month old boy, Nemo. He looks like both of them, with Saman's coloring but Gwen smile. They keep separate living quarters, Gwen in a quite lovely house bordering a canal, with a garden, and a nursery. Saman has a room in Les Tanneries, a collective squat in a former hangar on the outskirt of town. Gwen is an Schoolteacher at an English School. Saman is doing jobs around Les Tanneries - organizing a collective garden, programming concerts, and he frequently makes buttons, patches, and silkscreens to sell as part of the independent music distribution company he and Gwen run together,.
I've met anarchists before. I know some very well, and certainly am familiar with some anarchist morals from my upbringing. In america, through touring mostly with Brook Pridemore, I found myself at houses that are either collectives or at least apartments of like-minded anarchists. Most of these people are young, college ages or recent graduates. Usually they are vegan, and most of the time they like punk music, or acoustic music that has punk sentiments. That's a horrible generalization, because, for the most part, my performances would go very well, additionally other artists who have a more modern sound, or a straighter folk sound, would also be warmly received.
In France, I've talked to a lot of people about the House Show movement. Everyone who knows it is a fan. People say it's just starting in France. I tell them in America it's become very popular. They are excited about it becoming bigger in France. "It's a better time than a bar." says one girl. Another comments, "People have a better experience listening to the music, and getting to make new friends, than at a venue or a bar." I point out the economic factor - that it's way cheaper to attend a house show than be out all night at the bar, hence audience is more likely to support a band by tips or buying CDs. To see a show at a bar, and have six drinks over the course of an evening, in New York this would cost about $40. To see a show at Brooklyn Tea Party, with a six-pack of good beer from the store, and to tip each band two dollars, You'd spend about $15. The money you save, which positively reinforces the benefit of a house show, may go toward paying your rent, or having a nice meal, or maybe buying a CD from one of the performers. Maybe you didn' t have the option to spend $40 in the first place, in which case, a house show was the only viable option for you. Of course, you can buy really cheap beer at the store, and tip every band fifty cents, in which case you might even be able to have a really fun night for about eight bucks.
And that "really fun night" depends on a couple things. First, the show. Promotion. A house show relies on word of mouth. Example - my roommate and I really like a band. We decide to host a house show. So we tell our friends, "we really like this band. They sound like (appropriate comparison), and they play at 10PM. And, we're playing to support them, starting at about 9PM. So, come over to our house. (Of course, we're musicians, but non-musicians only have to change one thing - finding a local artist to play as support. Even better to find two - one before the touring band, and one to play after. Preferably the local bands should be awesome and have lots of fans, that way, the touring band gets the most exposure playing in the middle. Everyone arrives late to a house show. If it's a loud band - you'll need a few microphones. If it's quiet, usually everyone will hear an acoustic artist with no amplification.
Second, the welcome. The host's job is simple - welcome people to your home. That includes the musicians, the fans, and the strangers. It means introducing this person to that person - creating the chance for new friendships to emerge. It means having enough toilet paper, or sending someone out to get more. What I've always found about house show audiences - the host is appreciated for offering the venue. Most people, if asked to help out (get toilet paper, clean up a spill, find this person...) will be glad to help. Some people are better at hosting than others, and roommates will find that each member of a hosting team has strengths and weaknesses. The best hosts work together, and very proactively make the welcome. "You're welcome" is a funny thing to say, when people thank you for a gig. I've found it has added meaning since I started doing house shows. What you will find is there's not a lot of assholes at a house show (well, active jerks might be a better way to put it.). A younger crowd tends to be rowdier. An older crowd tends to be more claustrophobic. But everyone, except those who are really drunk, or don't do well anywhere - will respect your house. After all, you're helping them out. So, knowing that they're on your side from the beginning, a great welcome makes it even more likely they'll have a good time.
Third thing that makes the night - Supporting the music. As host, introducing the band is helpful. Especially if everyone doesn't know them. It makes you visible, in case someone needs anything, and also connects everyone together..."Audience of my friends, these are my friends who make this music, and it's time you knew eachother..." Then we're all the same. Also, encouraging the audience to tip the band (in a hat or something that you will walk around with occasionally through the night.). And also encouraging audience to buy CDs. There is no better opportunity for a band to sell CDs than immediately after a gig. So, remind everyone, including forgetful artists, that CDs are for sale.
At the end of the show, you can count the money, and divide it in whatever way makes the most sense and seems the most fair. Usually, if there's a lot of money, it's OK to reimburse yourself for expenses - and usually that's just any food you made specifically for the party. Then, paying a touring band is most important - and it's OK to ask local bands to give their share to the touring band. Or, offering everyone the same, but making a suggestion...."There was $105 in the tip jar, and three bands, so each band gets $35. But maybe you can throw some of your money to the touring band?" This is usually met with an "of course!" kind of response from the local band and makes for a kinship between these artists.
You can also just put a bunch of people, food, and music in a room together and let it all figure itself out. I've seen this work wonderfully. But it's not my method....
Anyway, last night in Dijon I had to play at Au Vieux Leon - a traditional french bar where the front window has a bullet hole in it. The story goes that there were subversives drinking at this bar, and they also hang out at the collective. So the guy went to the collective, and shot someone in the leg. He went to the bar, and shot through the window. He then ran off and shot himself. Who knows why. Au Vieux Leon put some gaffers tape over the bullet hole. That was eight or nine years ago.
We arrived and were treated to a nice meal - a meal of pasta and sauce, as well as bread and meat for me. A bottle of red wine, too. Gwen and Saman are vegan. "For nutrition, or for politics?" I asked them. Gwen answered straight away - "Politics." Saman said, "Yeah, I haven't been too concerned about nutrition until Nemo. I'm one of those vegans who eats a lot of frites (french fries)." Turns out Saman and I have the same hate of fake foods - he doesn't want his Seitan to be called "Duck". It's not Duck. We bond over this.
After the meal I start to play - and people like the first three songs. Then, as more people crowd into the bar, more people start to talk, and I can't sing over them. I try to be funny, I try to play my loudest songs, but I'm killing myself trying to play for the six people who are actually listening. I'm getting frustrated. A drunk old man comes up, and holds my arm, tight. I thought I was going to pull away. Talks to me, can I play a blues, he wants to sing a song, etc etc...I've done this dance before.
"I'm taking a break, and we can discuss it at the break."
So I play one more song, then I stop. I'm over it. It's really loud. We've passed a hat, there's about twenty euros, and I'm not going to sell any CDs here. I go for a smoke. The guy who wants a blues stops me on the way out. He's screaming at me. I'm screaming back at him. We're both trying to understand each other. He's squeezing the shit out of my arm. I pull away. He gives me that, "oh, come on!" thing when he says, "Ahh", as in, "Ahh, Fuck It!" and walks away. I go for my smoke, and thank the people who were listening.
Gwen walks over, a bit tentative. I cut right to the chase. "It's really hard to play in there right now. I had to take a break and restrategize. I'll go back on in a few minutes."
"If you want, you don't have to."
"I feel like I should. Just a few more songs."
"There was a band here before, they are playing down the road. You can play there, tonight, too, after the band."
"Great. That might be fun." I am not convinced.
I go back in, play three songs (two of them are cover songs) and pack up. Saman made a plum tart and we eat some. Finish the bottle of red wine. Serenade a retired prostitute who looks a bit like post-chemo Mary Travers, who died early that day. She liked the song. I asked Saman if we could go, walk home, but stop at the other bar on the way.
Along the way, I got to ask Saman about his relationship, and being a father. Here's how it went.
"I want to ask you something, but I hope it's not too personal. You and Gwen, you have a baby, but you don't live together. What is this about?"
"Well, Gwen has her house, she bought it, and it's not my house. I need to have my own place. Gwen has wanted a baby for a long time, even tried to adopt one. When we started to know eachother, she asked if I wanted to have a baby, and I said maybe I would. But I didn't want too much of my life to change. I feel very connected to Les Tanneries. So I said I wanted to stay there."
Saman has a coughing fit as we're walking, his words get broken up by a need to clear his throat.
"It strange you are asking today, because, well, Gwen and I broke up last week. But, because of Nemo, nothing has really changed very much. In fact, it's the same. Which makes me think maybe have always been just really good friends. But I don't know what will happen."
"Being a dad must change a lot, though. Even small things."
"Yeah, it does change a lot, even if you don't want it to. I think Gwen wants it to change more for me, like sometimes I don't do enough for Nemo. I am trying to do a lot, though. I just can't change everything. I don't want to."
"The reason I'm asking about all of this, is, well, Rachel and I are talking about having kids, and maybe we'll get married, and I'm interested in how it works for other people."
"Well it would be really hard to have a baby and to tour. Hard for the baby."
"Yeah. But I think it's possible."
"Possible, yes"
"But maybe not the best."
"Maybe, no."
We arrive at the Deep Inside, a bar with a basement venue. We are standing outside, and there are some familiar faces from the other gig. Also, many new faces, including this one girl who is spouting off at her mouth. Her name is Phoebe. She is attractively slim, short and brunette, and has a charm-school british accent.
"He's not my boyfriend, he's my tool. He's my, what's the word? Fuck Buddy. He is my brother's best friend from childhood. I saw him last summer when I went home, and I said, I'm going to fuck him. And I did. I can try and get someone else tonight, someone nice, but if nothing happens, I will go home and fuck him. I used to watch him play football with my younger brother, in these little shorts. And now we are fuck buddies."
All the time Fuck Buddy is standing there, so embarrassed. He probably has never been called a Fuck Buddy before, or ever had one, or ever been in a public conversation about his status as a Fuck Buddy. Hell, he might have even thought that he was her boyfriend....
Another girl outside, Magdeline, is a relative newcomer to Les Tanneries. She doesn't have a home. "But I don't live at Les Tanneries. I don't want responsibility."
Saman says, "But you are staying there."
"I'm not staying through the winter. If I stay through the winter, it will be cold, and I will be sad, and I will kill myself. I don't live at Les Tanneries because I don't have a room there. If I had a room there, I would be living there. But I'm not staying."
Stephin is a 38 year old anarchist who doesn't like anything. Well, he likes good old Rock and Roll, good red wine, he loathes pop music and also loathes pretty much mainstream anything. To my shock, when Brook and Brian toured through last week, Stephin preferred Brian's music. Being the punk capital of France, I thought everyone would like Brook's show more.
Anyway, Stephin really likes my music. Last time in Dijon, at the garden, we ate pizza that Stephin made. He's a really nice guy. Outside Au Vieux Leon, he takes a sip of my wine, which I was praising. "It's not bad, it's not a BAD wine..."
We've stood outside The Deep Inside for about thirty minutes, while a band has been playing inside. Saman and I say, "let's go inside and see this band" and we walk in just in time to catch the last chord of the band.
We applaud. Oh well.
I go to the sound guy - talk over what we're doing. No problem, he says, you can play. I get a guitar cable from a perplexed guy from the band that just finished, as like, "who are you to play after us?" But he was totally cool, and I set my stuff up, saw my friend Chantal who had been at the garden show in spring, and went upstairs for a smoke. Everyone in Dijon smokes. Everyone, except Saman I think....
Arnaud, the sound guys, says, "Whenever you want, we will start." I go downstairs and there's four people there. I play "Jerusalem, City of Kings." I play "Stuck Outta Luck." I play "It All Comes Clean". Now there are twenty people. I play "Quiet House", "I'm Sorry", "Superman of Love", a new song called "Six or Seven" and then I play "Tape Recorder."
When I finished I said, "oh, I have CDs!" and sold five CDs and a button(which I didn't even think I had...). Sat for two more beers, and we got a ride home. I had a great night's sleep, vindicated after the second show, and woke up this morning to Saman in the kitchen. We made coffee, traded some CDs, and had lunch with Gwen and Nemo when they came home at lunch time. Gwen went to work, and Saman and Nemo and I went to the train. I've been on the train for 85 minutes - writing the whole time.
There's a woman next to me painting her nails, listening to Eminem loud on an iPod. Worst train behaviour ever, minus the shit-smelling guys in New York.
I'm hungry, I should have eaten right before I hit the train. These vegans don't really do protein....
I could use a shower too! Hopefully Hugo will meet me at the train station and we'll go get a bite somewhere. Then a shower, then a show. That would work for me.
I'm happy that last night didn't end badly. I was considering how I've had a great night each night of tour. Last night had the chance to end really badly, but it didn't. I got to redeem my mood with a solid set of party songs, for a room of fun listeners.
All Cows Eat Grass in France.
And anywhere in here things can get mixed up - an anarchist from a wealthy family. An elderly retired prostitute. The sloppy rich drunk. The shy kid who wants to be a hell-raiser.
Saman is 25 and from Corsica. Until recently he dated Gwen, and the two have a nine month old boy, Nemo. He looks like both of them, with Saman's coloring but Gwen smile. They keep separate living quarters, Gwen in a quite lovely house bordering a canal, with a garden, and a nursery. Saman has a room in Les Tanneries, a collective squat in a former hangar on the outskirt of town. Gwen is an Schoolteacher at an English School. Saman is doing jobs around Les Tanneries - organizing a collective garden, programming concerts, and he frequently makes buttons, patches, and silkscreens to sell as part of the independent music distribution company he and Gwen run together,.
I've met anarchists before. I know some very well, and certainly am familiar with some anarchist morals from my upbringing. In america, through touring mostly with Brook Pridemore, I found myself at houses that are either collectives or at least apartments of like-minded anarchists. Most of these people are young, college ages or recent graduates. Usually they are vegan, and most of the time they like punk music, or acoustic music that has punk sentiments. That's a horrible generalization, because, for the most part, my performances would go very well, additionally other artists who have a more modern sound, or a straighter folk sound, would also be warmly received.
In France, I've talked to a lot of people about the House Show movement. Everyone who knows it is a fan. People say it's just starting in France. I tell them in America it's become very popular. They are excited about it becoming bigger in France. "It's a better time than a bar." says one girl. Another comments, "People have a better experience listening to the music, and getting to make new friends, than at a venue or a bar." I point out the economic factor - that it's way cheaper to attend a house show than be out all night at the bar, hence audience is more likely to support a band by tips or buying CDs. To see a show at a bar, and have six drinks over the course of an evening, in New York this would cost about $40. To see a show at Brooklyn Tea Party, with a six-pack of good beer from the store, and to tip each band two dollars, You'd spend about $15. The money you save, which positively reinforces the benefit of a house show, may go toward paying your rent, or having a nice meal, or maybe buying a CD from one of the performers. Maybe you didn' t have the option to spend $40 in the first place, in which case, a house show was the only viable option for you. Of course, you can buy really cheap beer at the store, and tip every band fifty cents, in which case you might even be able to have a really fun night for about eight bucks.
And that "really fun night" depends on a couple things. First, the show. Promotion. A house show relies on word of mouth. Example - my roommate and I really like a band. We decide to host a house show. So we tell our friends, "we really like this band. They sound like (appropriate comparison), and they play at 10PM. And, we're playing to support them, starting at about 9PM. So, come over to our house. (Of course, we're musicians, but non-musicians only have to change one thing - finding a local artist to play as support. Even better to find two - one before the touring band, and one to play after. Preferably the local bands should be awesome and have lots of fans, that way, the touring band gets the most exposure playing in the middle. Everyone arrives late to a house show. If it's a loud band - you'll need a few microphones. If it's quiet, usually everyone will hear an acoustic artist with no amplification.
Second, the welcome. The host's job is simple - welcome people to your home. That includes the musicians, the fans, and the strangers. It means introducing this person to that person - creating the chance for new friendships to emerge. It means having enough toilet paper, or sending someone out to get more. What I've always found about house show audiences - the host is appreciated for offering the venue. Most people, if asked to help out (get toilet paper, clean up a spill, find this person...) will be glad to help. Some people are better at hosting than others, and roommates will find that each member of a hosting team has strengths and weaknesses. The best hosts work together, and very proactively make the welcome. "You're welcome" is a funny thing to say, when people thank you for a gig. I've found it has added meaning since I started doing house shows. What you will find is there's not a lot of assholes at a house show (well, active jerks might be a better way to put it.). A younger crowd tends to be rowdier. An older crowd tends to be more claustrophobic. But everyone, except those who are really drunk, or don't do well anywhere - will respect your house. After all, you're helping them out. So, knowing that they're on your side from the beginning, a great welcome makes it even more likely they'll have a good time.
Third thing that makes the night - Supporting the music. As host, introducing the band is helpful. Especially if everyone doesn't know them. It makes you visible, in case someone needs anything, and also connects everyone together..."Audience of my friends, these are my friends who make this music, and it's time you knew eachother..." Then we're all the same. Also, encouraging the audience to tip the band (in a hat or something that you will walk around with occasionally through the night.). And also encouraging audience to buy CDs. There is no better opportunity for a band to sell CDs than immediately after a gig. So, remind everyone, including forgetful artists, that CDs are for sale.
At the end of the show, you can count the money, and divide it in whatever way makes the most sense and seems the most fair. Usually, if there's a lot of money, it's OK to reimburse yourself for expenses - and usually that's just any food you made specifically for the party. Then, paying a touring band is most important - and it's OK to ask local bands to give their share to the touring band. Or, offering everyone the same, but making a suggestion...."There was $105 in the tip jar, and three bands, so each band gets $35. But maybe you can throw some of your money to the touring band?" This is usually met with an "of course!" kind of response from the local band and makes for a kinship between these artists.
You can also just put a bunch of people, food, and music in a room together and let it all figure itself out. I've seen this work wonderfully. But it's not my method....
Anyway, last night in Dijon I had to play at Au Vieux Leon - a traditional french bar where the front window has a bullet hole in it. The story goes that there were subversives drinking at this bar, and they also hang out at the collective. So the guy went to the collective, and shot someone in the leg. He went to the bar, and shot through the window. He then ran off and shot himself. Who knows why. Au Vieux Leon put some gaffers tape over the bullet hole. That was eight or nine years ago.
We arrived and were treated to a nice meal - a meal of pasta and sauce, as well as bread and meat for me. A bottle of red wine, too. Gwen and Saman are vegan. "For nutrition, or for politics?" I asked them. Gwen answered straight away - "Politics." Saman said, "Yeah, I haven't been too concerned about nutrition until Nemo. I'm one of those vegans who eats a lot of frites (french fries)." Turns out Saman and I have the same hate of fake foods - he doesn't want his Seitan to be called "Duck". It's not Duck. We bond over this.
After the meal I start to play - and people like the first three songs. Then, as more people crowd into the bar, more people start to talk, and I can't sing over them. I try to be funny, I try to play my loudest songs, but I'm killing myself trying to play for the six people who are actually listening. I'm getting frustrated. A drunk old man comes up, and holds my arm, tight. I thought I was going to pull away. Talks to me, can I play a blues, he wants to sing a song, etc etc...I've done this dance before.
"I'm taking a break, and we can discuss it at the break."
So I play one more song, then I stop. I'm over it. It's really loud. We've passed a hat, there's about twenty euros, and I'm not going to sell any CDs here. I go for a smoke. The guy who wants a blues stops me on the way out. He's screaming at me. I'm screaming back at him. We're both trying to understand each other. He's squeezing the shit out of my arm. I pull away. He gives me that, "oh, come on!" thing when he says, "Ahh", as in, "Ahh, Fuck It!" and walks away. I go for my smoke, and thank the people who were listening.
Gwen walks over, a bit tentative. I cut right to the chase. "It's really hard to play in there right now. I had to take a break and restrategize. I'll go back on in a few minutes."
"If you want, you don't have to."
"I feel like I should. Just a few more songs."
"There was a band here before, they are playing down the road. You can play there, tonight, too, after the band."
"Great. That might be fun." I am not convinced.
I go back in, play three songs (two of them are cover songs) and pack up. Saman made a plum tart and we eat some. Finish the bottle of red wine. Serenade a retired prostitute who looks a bit like post-chemo Mary Travers, who died early that day. She liked the song. I asked Saman if we could go, walk home, but stop at the other bar on the way.
Along the way, I got to ask Saman about his relationship, and being a father. Here's how it went.
"I want to ask you something, but I hope it's not too personal. You and Gwen, you have a baby, but you don't live together. What is this about?"
"Well, Gwen has her house, she bought it, and it's not my house. I need to have my own place. Gwen has wanted a baby for a long time, even tried to adopt one. When we started to know eachother, she asked if I wanted to have a baby, and I said maybe I would. But I didn't want too much of my life to change. I feel very connected to Les Tanneries. So I said I wanted to stay there."
Saman has a coughing fit as we're walking, his words get broken up by a need to clear his throat.
"It strange you are asking today, because, well, Gwen and I broke up last week. But, because of Nemo, nothing has really changed very much. In fact, it's the same. Which makes me think maybe have always been just really good friends. But I don't know what will happen."
"Being a dad must change a lot, though. Even small things."
"Yeah, it does change a lot, even if you don't want it to. I think Gwen wants it to change more for me, like sometimes I don't do enough for Nemo. I am trying to do a lot, though. I just can't change everything. I don't want to."
"The reason I'm asking about all of this, is, well, Rachel and I are talking about having kids, and maybe we'll get married, and I'm interested in how it works for other people."
"Well it would be really hard to have a baby and to tour. Hard for the baby."
"Yeah. But I think it's possible."
"Possible, yes"
"But maybe not the best."
"Maybe, no."
We arrive at the Deep Inside, a bar with a basement venue. We are standing outside, and there are some familiar faces from the other gig. Also, many new faces, including this one girl who is spouting off at her mouth. Her name is Phoebe. She is attractively slim, short and brunette, and has a charm-school british accent.
"He's not my boyfriend, he's my tool. He's my, what's the word? Fuck Buddy. He is my brother's best friend from childhood. I saw him last summer when I went home, and I said, I'm going to fuck him. And I did. I can try and get someone else tonight, someone nice, but if nothing happens, I will go home and fuck him. I used to watch him play football with my younger brother, in these little shorts. And now we are fuck buddies."
All the time Fuck Buddy is standing there, so embarrassed. He probably has never been called a Fuck Buddy before, or ever had one, or ever been in a public conversation about his status as a Fuck Buddy. Hell, he might have even thought that he was her boyfriend....
Another girl outside, Magdeline, is a relative newcomer to Les Tanneries. She doesn't have a home. "But I don't live at Les Tanneries. I don't want responsibility."
Saman says, "But you are staying there."
"I'm not staying through the winter. If I stay through the winter, it will be cold, and I will be sad, and I will kill myself. I don't live at Les Tanneries because I don't have a room there. If I had a room there, I would be living there. But I'm not staying."
Stephin is a 38 year old anarchist who doesn't like anything. Well, he likes good old Rock and Roll, good red wine, he loathes pop music and also loathes pretty much mainstream anything. To my shock, when Brook and Brian toured through last week, Stephin preferred Brian's music. Being the punk capital of France, I thought everyone would like Brook's show more.
Anyway, Stephin really likes my music. Last time in Dijon, at the garden, we ate pizza that Stephin made. He's a really nice guy. Outside Au Vieux Leon, he takes a sip of my wine, which I was praising. "It's not bad, it's not a BAD wine..."
We've stood outside The Deep Inside for about thirty minutes, while a band has been playing inside. Saman and I say, "let's go inside and see this band" and we walk in just in time to catch the last chord of the band.
We applaud. Oh well.
I go to the sound guy - talk over what we're doing. No problem, he says, you can play. I get a guitar cable from a perplexed guy from the band that just finished, as like, "who are you to play after us?" But he was totally cool, and I set my stuff up, saw my friend Chantal who had been at the garden show in spring, and went upstairs for a smoke. Everyone in Dijon smokes. Everyone, except Saman I think....
Arnaud, the sound guys, says, "Whenever you want, we will start." I go downstairs and there's four people there. I play "Jerusalem, City of Kings." I play "Stuck Outta Luck." I play "It All Comes Clean". Now there are twenty people. I play "Quiet House", "I'm Sorry", "Superman of Love", a new song called "Six or Seven" and then I play "Tape Recorder."
When I finished I said, "oh, I have CDs!" and sold five CDs and a button(which I didn't even think I had...). Sat for two more beers, and we got a ride home. I had a great night's sleep, vindicated after the second show, and woke up this morning to Saman in the kitchen. We made coffee, traded some CDs, and had lunch with Gwen and Nemo when they came home at lunch time. Gwen went to work, and Saman and Nemo and I went to the train. I've been on the train for 85 minutes - writing the whole time.
There's a woman next to me painting her nails, listening to Eminem loud on an iPod. Worst train behaviour ever, minus the shit-smelling guys in New York.
I'm hungry, I should have eaten right before I hit the train. These vegans don't really do protein....
I could use a shower too! Hopefully Hugo will meet me at the train station and we'll go get a bite somewhere. Then a shower, then a show. That would work for me.
I'm happy that last night didn't end badly. I was considering how I've had a great night each night of tour. Last night had the chance to end really badly, but it didn't. I got to redeem my mood with a solid set of party songs, for a room of fun listeners.
All Cows Eat Grass in France.
Great Grand Tour Stories
I've had some stories a brewing since my "Great Grand Tour" a year ago...
So I'm going to start posting a few. Enjoy.
So I'm going to start posting a few. Enjoy.
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