A hole in the net

Friday 8PM, Club Kiste Stuttgart

Jono and I had breakfast in the Hotel Rothouse bar, as the other guys foraged around the neighborhood. It's always good to have a quiet meal. We then walked over to La Catrina to load the equipment into the van, then back to the hotel to load our bags. Even though it was raining we decided to walk around the fancy area over the river, to get Lorenzo a lamp for the merch table and to find a bank to exchange our worhtless francs. Switzerland does not use the Euro, I suspect because they need the income from fees for exchanging money. We were paid in francs, so we couldn't really leave the country with them. Most banks wouldn't exchange our money unless we had an account with them, but seeing how the minimum opening balance was a million dollars, we had to find a lesser facility. That was fairly easily accomplished after a long walk around the high end shopping area, as was the purchase of a lamp. Back to the van in the garage, and a quick exit to Zurich. Or not, as one member of the band whose name starts with a J forgot their passport. So back across the river to the red-light district and the Rothaus. Unbelievably, and quite luckily for J (and for this blogger who is badly in need of content) the Passport was still in the open safe. Crisis avoided, we found our way through the city to the highway, and that was it for Switzerland. I have to mention the classic apartment buildings and endless acres of blooming sunflowers, tremendous additions to my memory bank.

The terrain changed completely as we entered southern Germany. The autobahn carving methodically through the valley and crest of patched cornfields, skinned over the wire mesh of stationery ocean size swells. I thought it looked like west Vermont if it was the size of Texas, but Jono thought it looked Maryland or Virginia. He's probably right. I think we passed through the area known as the Black Forest, but I'll have to check on that. I know our show on Sunday is in Frieburg, which is at the heart of the Black Forest.

It started raining harder, and our only breaks were brief pitstops. I shouldn't mention this in a public blog, but I did something of a very questionable nature, Wifey please forgive me. We went to a McDonalds. I know things get ugly on tour but this was a new low. I only had a McSalad... but I feel so dirty! Rain falling heavier as we got to Stutagart. The country side starts to fade away and the building more dense. We enter one long tunnel after another, always descending, Stuttgart is at the bottom of a well perhaps? We drove through the city center, missing the road that the club was on, and exited the other end, eventually coming out near Mercedes Benz city, with it's factories, museums and buildings of modern architecture, not to mention a huge soccer stadium with a floating roof. Obviously we missed the straat so flipped around to head back. The reason we missed our turn is that the road did not cross the highway but ran parallel to it. With a lucky break we found our selves right in front of The Kiste, and, found a parking spot right in front! The club has taken the VW/Schwinn flyer I threw together, and blown it up to poster size, adding the important informaion that we are from Chicago! Awesome! This is the biggest room we have played so far, but it's still pretty small.

Simple load in except for the heavy rain and set up, we ran through a few songs, then let the opening band set up. They are called Fante Howl, kind of a strange indie rock band, with too many influences to assimilate. We will not be going to our hotel until after the show, so we are stuck here to blog, chat with locals and drink- depending on who you are. Another odd neighborhood around the club. The red light district is around the corner, and next door is a real bikers club- a man outside is wearing his "Hell's Angels Stuttgart" colors. I don't mention this stuff to give me any kind of boho cred, but I do enjoy popping my little American bubble. I came to Europe to play lots of gigs, and if the shows are in colorful areas, well that goes with touring.

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2AM Saturday morning, a flat somewhere in Stuttgart

Very, very enthusiastic audience tonight, but not as much dancing. They wanted the visceral experience, so we tried to give it to them. Loud and fast.... Additions to tonight's set was the premier of the "Star Trek" theme, and the Pyronauts' "Sifaka". The crowd asked for 3 encores, but we only had two in us. We were wiped out. Ralf from the Kilaueas was here and I spent a lot of time talking with him. We will hopefully see him tomorrow.

OK, here is where things get really strange and outside the bubble mentioned earlier. Tonight we are staying at Mischa the promoter's apartment. Of course it is impossible to find parking near his home, but we do, eventually. But it is at least a mile walk with our bags, dragging them over cobblestones the whole way in the light rain. It becomes a desperately bad joke, and when we reach his building, you know he is going to live on the top floor, which, of course he does. Five flights up to Mischa's hermitage. Jono starts laughing hysterically, maniacally even. What else is there to do? This is a first class band flop house, two stark rooms with filthy pads on the floor. Old newspapers and show posters stacked high, a room filled LPs CDs, walls covered with club rock posters of forgotten punk bands. No table, no shower. Unless you were in a punk rock band when you were 23, you can't possibly imagine. Really. Really. Ask me or anyone of us. It's all true. The bubble has been popped!

Mischa cooks up a plate of pasta for us and the story of how tonight came to be unfolds. Lorenzo had confirmed a gig with someone named Peter at the Zwolfzehn, another very nice club in Stuttgart last March, in fact it was one of the first shows confirmed for our tour. Then, just two weeks ago, Peter contacted Lorenzo and cancelled our show, saying that he had forgotten that another promoter had already booked his club for the night. Lorenzo diligently found us another show, and Mischa was recommended to him from a couple sources. Mischa quickly found The Kiste for us, but Peter did not mention the original contract's particulars including hotel. Peter did offer us 100 Euros cancellation fee, which helps some. I haven't known this cast of characters for more than 12 hours, but let me say that if any band is going to be coming through Stuttgart, do not work with this Peter persona non grata.. Lorenzo, who is a very sharp business man, seemed genuinely upset that one of his bands was treated so poorly. I say that, and I hope I don't sound like I am whining, it is certainly no fault of Mischa's or Lorenzo's. Obviously we aren't U2, or even a U2 cover band, but we still need a bed and shower after long drives and sweaty shows.

That's pronounced Zur-rich, like Richie Rich. We had a long car day that started out with a pleasant enough beginning. I was hoping to hear a rooster's crow, but instead got the yap of a small dog around 7:30 AM. Breakfast in the hotel courtyard. I love the Napoli style shot of coffee but I miss my big mug of joe. We dragged our bags over the cobblestones of Alesandria to the van, which we had to park on the street with all the equipment in it, thankfully it wasn't stolen in the night. During load up, I couldn't find my passport (in my gig bag) or my wallet (in the pocket of the pants that I am wearing). OK, everything was fine, and we hit the road, the same stretch past Milan, then veer to the north and onward to Switzerland. Lorenzo was bummed when we went past the last AutoGrill . A few of my friends who have travelled Italy told me how good the food was at the AutoGrill- and they were right. it's no truckstop grease pit. One AutoGrill we saw is over the freeway, with parking lots on either side. OK, enough about the AutoGrill.

As you approach the Swiss frontier, there starts to be some nice rolling hills. There was a backup at border customs due to the G8 meeting, but it was only queued up a couple Kilometers. Then the road starts to wind through long tunnels near beautiful lakes with little Playmobile towns and Brio trains station, with waterfalls on the rocks every where you look and little tiny houses perched way up in the hills. "Heidi" is no myth!. Most impressive was Lago Lucerne which seemed to be more of an inland ocean, but generously dotted with sailboats. Too bad we couldn't get out of the van and actually touch anything.

Until we got to Zurich... the first thing we did is pulled into a random parking garage so that we could find internet to then find the club. Lorenzo's mobile internet access ended at the Italian border. We came out of the underground garage in an area that looked a lot like Union Square in S.F., with big department stores and Benetton type stores. And an Apple store with free internet, so a map to the club was produced and we drove over, we were only 1.5 km away.

La Catrina is the smallest club we have ever played in, the room is about 20' x 40', with a fairly small stage. We set up and run through a few songs, them find the Rothouse Hotel (means red house, not rat house, though this area of town is more Amsterdam than Tenderloin.)

Our rooms remind me of an Amsterdam pension as well, plain with lots of single beds. Very clean, no problem. Except that the club was supposed to reserve a parking space for us, but didn't, so we have to park the van on the street, and leave our equipment in the club for safe keeping. It's really noisy outside our window as we overlook the main drag. Constant street sounds from buses, cars, people shouting, ambulances.

We met up with our contact with the club Micaela, a Spanish woman who moved to Zurich as a grad student 10 years ago, and never left. She takes us out to an nice Italian restaurant called Celia down the Silhalenstrasse from our hotel. I have the gnocci, excellent.

Back to the hotel, briefly, then to the club. As I said, the club is very small; there is a nice outdoor area but they have to keep the doors closed because the neighborhood is residential. It's completely packed with about 40 people, who are very eager for the show to begin. We start off with our standard set openers-- Teleport, Cutlass Supreme, Tsunami Supreme, Night Sticks, Peaches en Regalia. After that, the set is almost completely different from last night. I mentioned the Coldplay song, but there was some booing so we didn't get to it. I can see that that song is going to be very polarizing, you either love it or hate it.

It was incredibly hot in the room, I was sweating so much, I was a fountain. But the crowd was good and danced a lot, so we kept the tempos fast. We played for about an hour and 1/2, finishing up with our choreographed version of "Surf Party" and then Slacktone's "Bells of St. Kahuna" as an encore.. After the show, Jeff holds court outside with table full of new friends, he suddenly speaks fluent German. I hang with Lorenzo by the merch table selling a bunch of CDs and a few Ts.

Back at the Rothouse– It is really noisy outside our window, as our room overlook the main drag. The wall of random noise continues from buses, cars, people shouting and Euro ambulances with that two note doppler shifting siren. We have to close the window to sleep, but the heat is stifling, so Jeff opened it around 3AM, the cat-calls of the tranny prostitutes have died down al little. 8AM now, it is raining outside, finally cooling things off a little. Breakfast, then hopefully the van will still be wherever it was parked, and our gear will still be in the club, and then we leave for the 3 hour ride to Stuttgart.

Wednesday night in Alesandria, Italy

I am sitting in the Four Bears bar in Alesandria, which could be any Irish bar on Geary Street in SF- the worn wood walls and plaid curtains, Irish beer of course, though I go for German Hefeviesen to go with American Rodeo on TV and Irish punk rock on the PA. The food is finally Italian, prosciutto with melon and pasta.

The drive from Milan took less than two hours, though there was some traffic at the start. Once we were past the city, the scenery became pastoral, mountains in the distance, closer hills topped by ancient villas, not quite castles. WE parked in Alesandria central square which looks to be the perfect size for a soccer pitch or anti-war rally, but is now paved over with timed parking. We had about 4 hours to kill before we could check into our hotel so we walked around the central square. As is the way in Italy, the place is nearly deserted at mid-day. We chowed (not ciao'd) on foccacia pizzas, and strolled around. I must have taken over 100 pictures, just the perfect Italian experience. Shuttered windows, weathered walls, laundry lines strung between buildings, harsh light casting flat shadows noon.

While the other guys had coffee, Jeremy and I found an abandoned school compound, mature trees growing through the clay tile roofs, revolutionary graffiti on the bricks, the rotten mortar spilling out from between the blocks. Our exploration continued for another couple hours, every turn a new alley just as picturesque as the one before.

At 4:30 we moved into our hotel (Arco Balano "Rainbow"), an unbelievably romantic place with purple flowers growing up the walls and hanging over the trellis. Too bad I have to share the bed with Jeff and not my wife. Jono, Jeff and I ran through some songs as we sat in the open air lobby.

Jono took a stroll, and then I did. I was looking for a grocery store, but ended up back at the central square, which had now cooled off 10 degrees, and was completely packed with people, sipping coffee and beer and shopping, shopping, shopping. I passed this club and got a look in. It's great that it is so close to our hotel. Also, I found the grocery which was about 30 meters from our hotel. Duh. By the time I got back, it was time to go. Although we were close, we had to drive in a few circles to get there.

We loaded in and got our first look at Lorenzo's gear. Fender has sponsored him, so he has two new Twins and a SWR 550X head a 4-10 cab. Jeremy's playing a Mapex kit. Our set starts in about 15 minutes...

+++++++

OK, great show, we worked hard, but having a fun audience inspired us. I met Dr. Legume (from SG101, he will also be performing at the Surfer Joe Festival) and his wife. It was their 20th Anniversary, and they had some friends with them, so there was lots of dancing. I was worried about the Coldplay song "Viva La Vida" recently added to our set. If it didn't go over well tonight, I was going to give it the ax. But the continental audience instantly recognized it and if I may say, really dug it. I don't expect it to be too popular with Americans, because even though it was a huge radio hit, who listens to the radio? The crowd seemed to put up with our psychedelic stuff, but definitely preferred the faster, surfier stuff. We had a couple rough spots but overall it was very satisfying. Salvatore, the club owner really liked us and gave us Tees. Finally I have something to wear on St. Patrick's Day.

1 down, 10 to go!

Tuesday night in Varedo, north of Milan.

What can you say about a travel day? The Pollos gathered at SF International at 1PM, waited in line, waited in another line, waited in a third line and got on a plane to Paris. The stewardesses brought a round of champagne, and we toasted to our newest adventure. Hard to say how completely giddy four 40 year old guys can get, but we were very happy and excited to be leaving. Air France has great food, but crappy movies... Duplicity with Julia Roberts and Clive Owens and something in French that I put on my eye-shades and ear hat and dozed through. The Simpsons episode was great. Air France poured wine, apartifs, and more wine, but no water, it was very dry. Night came and went very quickly, and after 10 hours we touched down at Charles DeGaulle.

July 14, Bastille Day, and we are in the Paris airport with no chance to join the French in their revelry. DeGaulle is an amazing and beautiful airport. It took us a full 25 minutes to walk from our arrival terminal to our departure terminal. And then, oddly, after we walked down the jetport, we boarded a bus and were shuttled right back over to the terminal we had just left to catch our plane to Milan. After take off I got a view of downtown Paris and I could clearly see the Eifel Tower before we entered the cloud cover. A very long wait for luggage, Jeff's bass case the last bag to arrive.

Our man Lorenzo meets us outside the gate. He is not that familiar with the Milan airport so we stumble around to find our van, which is a most excellent FIAT, and is already filled with drums and amps. The first word we learn in Italian is "caldo" which means hot- moto caldo.

We load into the van and figure out a plan. Since we don't have a gig tonight, we don't really have a plan. Rush hour traffic is awful and Lorenzo's new GPS isn't much help, Jeff is convinced we are going in circles. We took turns nodding off in the van while we were stuck in traffic. Our goal was to find a hotel for the night near a restaurant that is a favorite gig spot of Lorenzo's, The Millwakee 50's Diner (Slacktone will stop here in September, but it is completely empty and dead during the summer months). As we pulled into a first hotel, Lorenzo told us a humorous story of Los Straijackets going all mud-shark at this place- the hotel told us they were sold out, but perhaps they didn't want Lorenzo's repeat business.

We found another hotel in Varedo, which is somewhere north of Milan. The motel is very nice, but clearly a place that is happy to service lovers as the rooms are available in 4 or 6 hour stays. The rooms also features mood lights that cycle through a pastel color wheel and the wonderful prefab showers that have 5 choices of water jet selection, not to mention a few channels of hard core porn. There is a little problem when we get our rooms as "doble" means a double bed, not two beds. A hot shower took the half inch thick layer of airplane scum and I felt like a new man. We met up to go to the diner, which is a near copy of Max's diner in SF, or any 50s style diner in the US, except that the owners are clearly serious fans of rockabilly, and the music playing over the PA is very obscure 50s, until the Michael Jackson tribute video comes on, but by then we are ready to leave. Someday we will have Italian food, but tonight we have cheeseburgers and Belgian beer. The owner offers us a round of drinks, so Jono orders a rum and coke, made with Cuban rum. Very nice.

Back to the love hotel for sleep, which comes quickly after being awake for 32 hours straight.