shake, europa
Thursday nov 17 brussels/off
We do the overnite from jfk, everyone scattered across the half empty flight to London. I manage to finish two new Yorkers, watch an incredibly bad movie(why did they need to remake bad news bears?), drink some Chilean red, and sleep an hour. They wonder why no one is eating the chicken on the overnite flight, hint, avian flu is the number one topic of conversation in the usa. Go figure.
A couple of hours to kill and I spend most of my time wondering why the fat fuck at my local cel phone place had not activated my international calling plan. But hey, I am wireless in heathrow airport thanks to tmobile. Wireless. Christ, the 21st century. Well it is a trial and tribulation trying to get the cel phone activated, that and the fact that travelex will not take amex to activate the uk phone. Thus I drop my last 150 sterling on the phone and get the plane to belgique where after a bit of rigamarole with the immigration, we are ushered to our van and chauffered into the place rogier and our very spiffy digs.
It is cold as, and I manage to get online at a very high price and find out that our bus driver is sinead o/ Connors driver , so it is over to the cirque royale to say hey to fionna, meet our driver, eat a croque monsieur and drink a pint of leffe, and back to the shack in the subarctic temps to get our back drop from v2, and try to hook up with my sister inlaw. No avail as she is out in the burbs,, meet amelie from v2, and deal with the bus cock ups in the uk which keeps my phone ringing for the next few hours. Sleepless, I decline dinner with the guys and work on some production issues. Those resolved, squid and I go over to cirque royale to catch a bit of sinead/ sly and Robbie. I am instantly stoned by the amount of weed in the air, look out for fionna, say hey to amy Davidson the tm, manage to quaff a pint, catch one song of sinead, and hit the streets looking for my brother in laws pub in les sablons(the black sheep,an irish pub in Brussels). There I enjoy a few Belgian ales with jean marie and claude, and after three drinks and 36 hours of no sleep, I am comfortably scoobied and jean marie gives me a lift back to the shack where I am accosted by a pie eyed red faced American muck savage who shouts, ‘ron jeremy’ in my general direction, and I wonder, ‘how does this guy know about my numerous connections to the hedgehog’. He offers to buy me loads of drinks thinking that my insider knowledge of international pornstars is going to give him a leg up on getting his leg over on some air hostess. I beg off, he tried the same trick with Anthony, yelling ‘jimmy page’, he didn/t bite either.
Friday nov 18 tongeren /de velinx
So we manage to get the bus and we are all 1 big happy family of 10 men for the next 3 weeks. Meet the driver and the double driver and set out on the short journey to tongeren, the oldest city in Belgium, which holds some sort of irony as the boys basically live in the oldest city in new york, or something like that. And it is easy peasy, a nice little community center in a small town in Belgium, the kind of place that does not exist in the usa. Locally funded arts centers with real equipment and an interest in the artist. For me, it is as easy of a day 1 that I could ever ask for(thanks Danielle, and everyone else over there). The guys keep coming in and giving me 30 second mac tutorials, hey now and I check on the nba scores, I tunes are rocking from 5 computers and everything goes smoothly. We are served a very delicious and simple buffet at the café next door and its all good. Potato croquettes, man.
The crowd filters in, giving the local openers a good response, and the rev knocks em out with their 110 minute set. A very happy house,I too am psyched. It is the first time I have seen the guys since byron bay and the first real headline show I have seen with real production. It is fucking great.
Afterwards, hopper, Anthony,the kid, ogro, jd, amelie from v2 and her mate sophie, and I head into the town of tongeren to enjoy the local scenery. Ogro and I get a lift from Danielle as the others had left earlier, and what do we find but the burgundy room of Belgium. People are rocking out, singing along to all sorts of music, drinking 2 euro pints, dancing, and just general shenanigans. It was pretty spectacular, alright. Anthony was teaching people how to dance merengue, hopper was showing the rest of us how to drink, pure insanity and a potentially blown bus call.
Somehow we all make it back, catch the last 20 minutes of chopper, and sleep the 3 hours to den haag.
Saturday nov 20 den haag theatre an spui
The crossing borders festival should be nicknamed the crossing fingers festival, cos ya keep yr fingers crossed hoping something happens, hoping someone has a sense of humor, hoping that yr rider will arrive, but hey, it is an arts festival not donnington.
I meet macy and maria taylor in the lobby of the mercure hotel, and miles from the akron family, who is my neighbor., I tell em to give a shout out to old uncle mike g, and go back to the club for meat and cheese on bread and whatever else it is that is going on.
I miss most of which is what I want to see because it is all playing at the same time. Nice.
I can go no further, they tried. The guys played 65 minutes to a good response, salif keitas maracas player lost his chapeau blanc and had an aneurysm(it was in his dressing room), van der graaf generator brought the house down, the guys got loaded at the after party in the sky, I went to bed to the Sunday times magazine.
We do the overnite from jfk, everyone scattered across the half empty flight to London. I manage to finish two new Yorkers, watch an incredibly bad movie(why did they need to remake bad news bears?), drink some Chilean red, and sleep an hour. They wonder why no one is eating the chicken on the overnite flight, hint, avian flu is the number one topic of conversation in the usa. Go figure.
A couple of hours to kill and I spend most of my time wondering why the fat fuck at my local cel phone place had not activated my international calling plan. But hey, I am wireless in heathrow airport thanks to tmobile. Wireless. Christ, the 21st century. Well it is a trial and tribulation trying to get the cel phone activated, that and the fact that travelex will not take amex to activate the uk phone. Thus I drop my last 150 sterling on the phone and get the plane to belgique where after a bit of rigamarole with the immigration, we are ushered to our van and chauffered into the place rogier and our very spiffy digs.
It is cold as, and I manage to get online at a very high price and find out that our bus driver is sinead o/ Connors driver , so it is over to the cirque royale to say hey to fionna, meet our driver, eat a croque monsieur and drink a pint of leffe, and back to the shack in the subarctic temps to get our back drop from v2, and try to hook up with my sister inlaw. No avail as she is out in the burbs,, meet amelie from v2, and deal with the bus cock ups in the uk which keeps my phone ringing for the next few hours. Sleepless, I decline dinner with the guys and work on some production issues. Those resolved, squid and I go over to cirque royale to catch a bit of sinead/ sly and Robbie. I am instantly stoned by the amount of weed in the air, look out for fionna, say hey to amy Davidson the tm, manage to quaff a pint, catch one song of sinead, and hit the streets looking for my brother in laws pub in les sablons(the black sheep,an irish pub in Brussels). There I enjoy a few Belgian ales with jean marie and claude, and after three drinks and 36 hours of no sleep, I am comfortably scoobied and jean marie gives me a lift back to the shack where I am accosted by a pie eyed red faced American muck savage who shouts, ‘ron jeremy’ in my general direction, and I wonder, ‘how does this guy know about my numerous connections to the hedgehog’. He offers to buy me loads of drinks thinking that my insider knowledge of international pornstars is going to give him a leg up on getting his leg over on some air hostess. I beg off, he tried the same trick with Anthony, yelling ‘jimmy page’, he didn/t bite either.
Friday nov 18 tongeren /de velinx
So we manage to get the bus and we are all 1 big happy family of 10 men for the next 3 weeks. Meet the driver and the double driver and set out on the short journey to tongeren, the oldest city in Belgium, which holds some sort of irony as the boys basically live in the oldest city in new york, or something like that. And it is easy peasy, a nice little community center in a small town in Belgium, the kind of place that does not exist in the usa. Locally funded arts centers with real equipment and an interest in the artist. For me, it is as easy of a day 1 that I could ever ask for(thanks Danielle, and everyone else over there). The guys keep coming in and giving me 30 second mac tutorials, hey now and I check on the nba scores, I tunes are rocking from 5 computers and everything goes smoothly. We are served a very delicious and simple buffet at the café next door and its all good. Potato croquettes, man.
The crowd filters in, giving the local openers a good response, and the rev knocks em out with their 110 minute set. A very happy house,I too am psyched. It is the first time I have seen the guys since byron bay and the first real headline show I have seen with real production. It is fucking great.
Afterwards, hopper, Anthony,the kid, ogro, jd, amelie from v2 and her mate sophie, and I head into the town of tongeren to enjoy the local scenery. Ogro and I get a lift from Danielle as the others had left earlier, and what do we find but the burgundy room of Belgium. People are rocking out, singing along to all sorts of music, drinking 2 euro pints, dancing, and just general shenanigans. It was pretty spectacular, alright. Anthony was teaching people how to dance merengue, hopper was showing the rest of us how to drink, pure insanity and a potentially blown bus call.
Somehow we all make it back, catch the last 20 minutes of chopper, and sleep the 3 hours to den haag.
Saturday nov 20 den haag theatre an spui
The crossing borders festival should be nicknamed the crossing fingers festival, cos ya keep yr fingers crossed hoping something happens, hoping someone has a sense of humor, hoping that yr rider will arrive, but hey, it is an arts festival not donnington.
I meet macy and maria taylor in the lobby of the mercure hotel, and miles from the akron family, who is my neighbor., I tell em to give a shout out to old uncle mike g, and go back to the club for meat and cheese on bread and whatever else it is that is going on.
I miss most of which is what I want to see because it is all playing at the same time. Nice.
I can go no further, they tried. The guys played 65 minutes to a good response, salif keitas maracas player lost his chapeau blanc and had an aneurysm(it was in his dressing room), van der graaf generator brought the house down, the guys got loaded at the after party in the sky, I went to bed to the Sunday times magazine.
posted by david burton at 1:15 PM
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