The last show

There's a combination of exhaustion and a sense of loss as a tour draws to it's end. No matter how many problems there were and how difficult things were as the last show approaches one becomes nostalgic sad elated and tired all at once. I can't wait to go home but I don't want it to end. I played a last minute show in Paris tonight thanks to Mika. Getting there was a serious adventure. The night before was the last group show with the fellas in Le mans. I think though we were all exhausted it was easily the best show. I felt like steve and Kamil were actually listening to each other and were finally somewhat in synch. I still think we never quite worked out a whole set but such is life. The next day we woke late and Mika confirmed the show in Paris. We left around two and as per usual Kamil avoided the toll roads and consequently we arrived during late rush hour traffic. It was determined that if we tried to take the van to the center of Paris we'd be stuck in traffic all night. Roco, Vanessa, and I ended up getting out at the outermost subway stop and shlepping all my stuff on the train. I almost got stuck with my tuba on my back in the turnstile and it was pretty crowded in the train but we manages to both get to my hotel room and avoided clobbering anyone with my tuba case. After checking in we hopped back on the subway for a few stops to get to the club. At the last second I realized that I would need Kamil's power converter to plug my equipment in. Fortunately he was still dropping steve off at his hotel so he was able to get to the venue in plenty of time to make the show happen. The show almost fell apart due to equipment problems but I took a break and solved the sound issues and it ended up being really fun. After We hung out for a while and one by one said goodbye. I hugged roco and mike and Kamil and realized I would miss them all very much. We all struggled together and battled our way through five weeks and that'll either turn you into enemies or friends and I can gladly say it was the latter. The question of whether I would tour together again is a whole other issue that is more about how I like to do things than how much I like all these people. I know we'll all be friends for life even if we never get in to a van together again. I will miss Europe very much and I can't wait to get cracking on booking another absurd over the top adventure of a tour. Now we'll see if I make it home tomorrow as it was snowing after the show. The subway had stopped running and it was impossible to get a cab so that meant a 3.5k walk in the snow and rain. I'm totally exhausted but awake and wired at the same time...

A moment of some kind

So we pull over at a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere between Bordeaux and Britagne. It's Sunday and it's pretty dead and not much is open so we decide to eat there. It reminds me of a trucker stop in Texas. There's a small tv in the corner and it's showing a really absurd shakira video. We order some sketchy food that's edible but far from French standard fare. Truck stop food. We finish our meal and on the tv an Iggy Pop video comes on and there, briefly on tv, for 3 truckers and the two old ladies who work at the cafe to see, is Steve Mackay. I look over at Steve and he's discreetly throwing up his beef goulash back on to his plate and covering it with napkins. About fifteen minutes later after we're back on the road driving Steve receives a phone call. Who is it? Iggy Pop of course...

Good will

Kamil is a great guy. He means really well and in many ways we are very similar. He tends towards a dark negativity with which I can relate but I do think it's important to fight that tendency and see good in people and the world around us. Otherwise what's the point. I do think our vastly different upbringings influence this difference though. He grew up under communist rule and spent a couple years in prison for political reasons. Though we have different ways of doing and seeing things it's mostly that we're both stubborn in our ways which makes things difficult. I think the responsibilities of taking care and worrying for steve have also accentuated all the trials and tribulations of the tour. Steve too is an amazing person. He's pretty straight forward about the drinking and he's certainly experienced everything under the sun. At this point I'm not sure this tour was the best idea for him. I hope that if he does this again he makes sure there is a certain level of comfort involved. I've felt like at certain moments there was just not nearly enough planning on Kamil's part in relation to how certain situations would effect steve. It's a serious responsibility and I think Kamil dropped the ball a bit. It's different for me and Roco and Mika. I can deal and adapt to any situation. I'm not sure Kamil fully understood before the tour what physical and mental condition steve was at. Also, musically Kamil obvious wants something specific and I think steve is not necessarily on the same wavelength and in the same place. I kind of wish they'd discussed what they wanted to do more before the tour but I don't think that's Kamil's style. He's a force of nature and he just plows forward without always thinking through repercussions and consequences and such. In any case there's not much that can be done now. There are three shows left and they should be pretty good and I've learned invaluable lessons and had some truly amazing experiences. I'm gonna go home and I'm gonna practice a lot and write new songs and I'm gonna learn some French and some Italian and I can't wait to book another tour...

Bread and cheese

It's crazy how much better the bread is in France. Incredibly tasty and rich. Italy as well. Most of my meals have consisted of bread cheese and occasionally sausage. I think that's pretty much my favorite meal in the world at this point. I guess it's kind of like barbecue in Texas or fried fish in new Orleans or burritos in California. Who knows exactly why but the bread here is an entirely different meal unto itself

The good soldier

I'm playing the good soldier. I'm good at putting my head down and doing the job that needs to be done but I can clearly say that I will never be the cog on someone else's wheel again. Im fully capable of following orders I don't agree with but it's a little soul sapping. This tour has explained quite clearly to me why I chose to do a solo act. I prefer living life on my own terms...

For example

A good barometer of how I will do things different when I come back to Europe on my own is the way we've done hotels. We've only gotten two on the trip. One was a youth hostel type thing in Berlin and the other was tonight in Bordeaux. I initially found a good three star place online for 42 euros. Everyone else wanted to stay at a formula 1. Little box rooms with shared showers and bathrooms. I sucked it up but it really makes a difference if you spend a tiny bit more bit experience serious luxury

Quintessential moment of the tour

Steve has a horrible hacking cough that makes me cringe when I listen to it. It's like listening to nails on a chalkboard. As we're leaving Claremont ferrond he's doing his basic disoriented thing and he's mumbling about how he needs a pharmacy but he's pulling the old martyr thing of how it'll probably be too difficult to stop but he really needs to get to the pharmacy. I try to calm him down and I tell him that we're definitely gonna hit a pharmacy on the way out of town.
After playing my song the night before we went back to the house of the promoters which was not that bad and crashed. Mika and Roco drove with a friend to saint ettienne after the show so that Mika could spend the day with his daughter who he misses very much. In the morning I got to talk to marlin one of the promoters for a while and it turns out she's very nice. I think the show exhausted her a bit because since they do the shows in different spaces there's a lot of equipment and food and drinks to move and set up. I forced myself to chat her up and get info about doing a show in the spring which changes my whole perspective on the evening. Turns out she's not nearly as indifferent as she appeared and I was impressed by some of her ideas and aspirations. Basically I figure all the absurdity of this tour is ok as long as I get something out of it that I can use. At a certain point in the afternoon we decide to head to saint ettienne and as it's only an hour and a half away I figure we're in no rush so I keep my eyes peeled to a pharmacy. Steve is chain smoking away as per usual and catching up a storm when I find a place. He's goes in and comes out with a successful impression on his face. A loud hacking coughing fit later and we diacover that no, he did not bother to pick up any cough medicine but he did renew his supply of over the counter codeine. Priorities people. Besides which he claims it's great for his cough.
The hour and a half drive to saint ettienne turns in to a 4 hour plus extravaganza as Kamil recommends taking the scenic route which involves crawling up mountains at 15 kilometers an hour. I do have to give it to him because I saw some of the most beautiful unreal serene scenery of my live. Incredible drooping expanses of trees blanketed in grey frost. My biggest regret is that I was driving and I didn't take any pictures. I feel like given the timing I'll never see something quite so perfectly peaceful again. My second regret is that of course made us late to the show and Mika was a little bit panicked. The bar where we played was not really a music venue so setting up sound was definitely going to be an issue. He really wanted his hometown show to go well. Kamil let me go first this time because he felt bad about the previous night which was nice of him. I did a good job of keeping the volume down and easing in to the set as I could tell that noise was gonna be an issue when I stood outside the bar during sound check. Chantel Morte went on after me and the hometown crowd lives it. Saint ettienne in the house! Afterwards I crashed at Ives place. He had let us crash there at the beginning of the tour and we had done a bit of recording. It's a shame we didn't really know the tunes at that point. If we'd done the opposite and left time to record this time through we might have gotten something worth using. He's a great guy and has the perfect temperament for a recording engineer.
The next day we drive to Marseilles and had a great show. We played in a little dive of a punk rock club in feint if a super enthusiastic audience packed in like sardines. It reminded me of playing in Austin way back in the early days of drums and tuba. I got to play first again and thus time I just went for it and blasted away. What's ironic is that this night was the most fun I'd had since Bourges and it turned out that a big group of people from there had moved to Marseilles and it was they who put on the show. Thanks to Jerome and the Bourges crew for a great night of food and music...
The next morning it was off to Bordeaux (not ideal routing) where we arrived to find a squat with a strong smell of piss and a performance space in the shape of a 50 foot narrow stone tunnel. Only at the highest point point could I stand comfortably without fear of banging my head. Two in a row was clearly too much to ask for. I had to get away from the others as steve was starting to freak out. He had done that on me the night before but he was completely wasted so it was easier for me to lack sympathy. Tonight I can totally relate and that makes it much worse to have to deal with the the 62 year old child thing. He's clearly afraid of having to sleep in a cold cat infested piss smelling stone squat. I'm pretty sure that if we don't get him a real place to sleep he's gonna lose it. Although I have been constantly impressed by his ability to recover from drug and alcohol induced states that would destroy a weaker person like me. Just when I think he's lost it he rallies at continues on.
One more week left. I can't figure out if that makes a night like tonight easier or harder. On the one hand you can smell the end so things should be more bearable with the end in sight but since the end is so close the prospect of freedom and release makes the lack of it so much more bitter. It's like when you're on your way home and you have to piss. I'm usually fine until I hit the long walk up five flights of stairs. The need to go multiplies incrementally the closer I get to my toilet...