rink lay
Thursdsay nov 24 bilbao cake anzokia w/dirty three and decemberists
So it is an 8am load in bad weather in the basque country. No one has managed to sleep despite not moving. We call the hotel our production facility, and I do the usual tour managerly duties round town. It is sort of slow going but everyone is happy to be in spain, and the smell of something sweet, sticky and black is very reminiscent of days of yore. Presales are apparently slow, but we are assured that they always are in bilbao. I hunker down to work in anticipation of the upcoming trip to the Balkans. We meet merce and Cynthia who will be our hostesses for the following 4 days. Hey now is in heaven, to be sure.
We get caught up in a fruitless search for turkey on thanksgiving, and I beg off to go back to the club for a perrito caliente and patatas fritas. As usual, catch ten minutes of the decemberists who had their bus break down and are looking a bit frazzled. They are definitely much different than I had expected. The dirty 3 are up next, and it is safe to say that these cats are bona fide bonkers. Situated on the cd shelf between the dirtbombs and the d4, I had never seen them live before, despite dp being in charge of them for some time. They are brilliant. The rev take the stage next, and it is safe to say that the crowd is so stoned that they are mesmerized, confused, and quite flummoxed by what is happening.
It looks great, like the kind of theatre that Lincoln was shot in or something, with a thick layer of hash smoke permeating the air. The 500 or so punters totally give it up, but we have to do the disco load in the rain and roll immediately to Madrid. Funnily enough, a large group of teenage girls drunk on too much something or other find a skip full of bricks and proceed to throw bricks at any car remotely resembling a posh one.
All of us find our bunks and kip it to Madrid.
Nov 25 madrid aqualung w/dirty 3 and the decemberists
We awake in a strip mall in Madrid and tuck right into a fantastic Spanish breakfast. Our drivers are psyched, bacon and eggs and fresh coffee. I settle into the production office for an afternoon of dial up and a night of debauchery , no doubt. We get the ball rolling very early with the decemberists who play to a relatively light crowd, but a strong reaction. More people are present for the dirty 3 and they get a big hurrah, ‘link wray,link wray,link wray’. Warren is insane. My kind of guy, as is jim and patch their tm/foh. Mercury rev take the stage with a thousand crazy Spaniards givng it their all and they proceed to play the best show I have seen them play. It is fucking exhilarating, and I am one proud poppa today, and the rioja certainly helps.. the mood in the dressing room is great after ther show and we call a late bus call to Valencia. Everyone packed off in various cars to the Costello bar in c aballero de gracia. Fuck if I know but hey now and I find it and tuck right into the ‘yim beams’ and modern alt rock soundtrack. Things begin to get a bit hazy for some and bus call approaches with carlos and hopper and I escorting a member of the extended rev family back to his hotel for the early flight back to London town. Poor bugger. We barely make the bus call due to serious cab shortages and no dearth of late night drinkers. Another good night in Madrid.
Nov 26 valencia republica w/ dirty 3 and the decemberists
It is opening night in this big barn of a club outside of Valencia so we are stuck in the burbs with no internet and whatever else it is that modern musos get up to on thanksgiving weekend, sans Trojan football and turkey sandwiches. But fuck it, we have crianza and the best paella of all time, and no I do not see gene hackman this time, but all is good rocking the eagles of death metal in the dressing room. It is quiet early on for the decemberists who seem like they have a great show all the same, and the crowd begins piling in for the dirty three, and it is more ‘link wray’ which I am unsure if the Spaniards can quite suss out. They dig the three and then give the rev a lot of love for the next 90minutes. A great show once more, and a very enthusiastic crowd. Afterwards we get patch and merce and all revs involved in some product placement type of drinking(for relaxing times make it san Miguel times), we enjoy some tremendous late night kebabs and I crawl in my bunk for the short trip to Barcelona wondering if ronaldinho will make it or not and whether those shriveled hot dogs got stashed in someone elses bunk.
So it is an 8am load in bad weather in the basque country. No one has managed to sleep despite not moving. We call the hotel our production facility, and I do the usual tour managerly duties round town. It is sort of slow going but everyone is happy to be in spain, and the smell of something sweet, sticky and black is very reminiscent of days of yore. Presales are apparently slow, but we are assured that they always are in bilbao. I hunker down to work in anticipation of the upcoming trip to the Balkans. We meet merce and Cynthia who will be our hostesses for the following 4 days. Hey now is in heaven, to be sure.
We get caught up in a fruitless search for turkey on thanksgiving, and I beg off to go back to the club for a perrito caliente and patatas fritas. As usual, catch ten minutes of the decemberists who had their bus break down and are looking a bit frazzled. They are definitely much different than I had expected. The dirty 3 are up next, and it is safe to say that these cats are bona fide bonkers. Situated on the cd shelf between the dirtbombs and the d4, I had never seen them live before, despite dp being in charge of them for some time. They are brilliant. The rev take the stage next, and it is safe to say that the crowd is so stoned that they are mesmerized, confused, and quite flummoxed by what is happening.
It looks great, like the kind of theatre that Lincoln was shot in or something, with a thick layer of hash smoke permeating the air. The 500 or so punters totally give it up, but we have to do the disco load in the rain and roll immediately to Madrid. Funnily enough, a large group of teenage girls drunk on too much something or other find a skip full of bricks and proceed to throw bricks at any car remotely resembling a posh one.
All of us find our bunks and kip it to Madrid.
Nov 25 madrid aqualung w/dirty 3 and the decemberists
We awake in a strip mall in Madrid and tuck right into a fantastic Spanish breakfast. Our drivers are psyched, bacon and eggs and fresh coffee. I settle into the production office for an afternoon of dial up and a night of debauchery , no doubt. We get the ball rolling very early with the decemberists who play to a relatively light crowd, but a strong reaction. More people are present for the dirty 3 and they get a big hurrah, ‘link wray,link wray,link wray’. Warren is insane. My kind of guy, as is jim and patch their tm/foh. Mercury rev take the stage with a thousand crazy Spaniards givng it their all and they proceed to play the best show I have seen them play. It is fucking exhilarating, and I am one proud poppa today, and the rioja certainly helps.. the mood in the dressing room is great after ther show and we call a late bus call to Valencia. Everyone packed off in various cars to the Costello bar in c aballero de gracia. Fuck if I know but hey now and I find it and tuck right into the ‘yim beams’ and modern alt rock soundtrack. Things begin to get a bit hazy for some and bus call approaches with carlos and hopper and I escorting a member of the extended rev family back to his hotel for the early flight back to London town. Poor bugger. We barely make the bus call due to serious cab shortages and no dearth of late night drinkers. Another good night in Madrid.
Nov 26 valencia republica w/ dirty 3 and the decemberists
It is opening night in this big barn of a club outside of Valencia so we are stuck in the burbs with no internet and whatever else it is that modern musos get up to on thanksgiving weekend, sans Trojan football and turkey sandwiches. But fuck it, we have crianza and the best paella of all time, and no I do not see gene hackman this time, but all is good rocking the eagles of death metal in the dressing room. It is quiet early on for the decemberists who seem like they have a great show all the same, and the crowd begins piling in for the dirty three, and it is more ‘link wray’ which I am unsure if the Spaniards can quite suss out. They dig the three and then give the rev a lot of love for the next 90minutes. A great show once more, and a very enthusiastic crowd. Afterwards we get patch and merce and all revs involved in some product placement type of drinking(for relaxing times make it san Miguel times), we enjoy some tremendous late night kebabs and I crawl in my bunk for the short trip to Barcelona wondering if ronaldinho will make it or not and whether those shriveled hot dogs got stashed in someone elses bunk.
posted by david burton at 12:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home