hey gareth,
Be sure see my buddies
12twelve from barcelona, they play primavera every year. you will not be disappointed. please tell them hi from Faiz (Fez) if you get the chance.
I did a tour journal for our 2004 run in spain
here.
I'm posting it as well, as the color scheme of this site is nicer than that of the blog. we spent over a week in bcn alone. if there's anything that sounds interesting, but its location is vague, I can probably find out where it is.
best,
Faiz
Spanish Tour 3/26-3/29, 2004 Chicago
Friday, March 26th
John and Caroline get their passports on the last possible day. Whew!
Saturday, Mar 27th
We spent the day at the space packing our stuff into the beautiful hand made custom flight cases that my landlord, Brian and our friend Mike built. The three of us went back to John and Jenny's place to get some dinner before calling it a day. John called the airport to make sure that they know that we're musicians coming in with a lot of equipment. All of a sudden, John starts saying "That's Horrible!" over and over into the phone.
When we bought our tickets months ago, we were told that anything that was overweight would just incur a charge but could still be taken. Three days prior to this call, a new rule was instated that no overweight luggage can be taken on any airplane after the 1st, regardless of when the tickets were bought. This meant we could get our gear over, but couldn't get it back in time for the Elf Power show when we returned. April Fools! We called our friend Seven and even if he freight forwarded our equipment for us, we wouldn't get our gear in time for the show in Madrid or the first show back in Chicago. We went into immediate panic mode and had to scramble.
Sunday, March 28th
I called in frantic to work and got the day off to go to guitar center to buy a new guitar case with John and Caroline. Packing got creative. We were oversized, but underweight, so we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best the next day.
Monday, March 29th
Tim took us to the airport, but we got dropped off at the wrong gate. Even though we were on an international flight, American's Int'l flights leave from their domestic terminal. We spent the next hour taking our heavy cases into an elevator in three trips with one person on each floor and someone in the elevator at all times to keep an eye on our stuff. We did this for four elevators and then also had to load all of the stuff onto the Terminal transfer train where some idiot started making terrorist jokes about our large amount of electronic gear.
We got to the counter all sweaty and out of breath and the nice lady at the counter let us slide without charging us buckets of money or smashing our dreams. The cases were too cumbersome for the loading crew to throw around and we looked on in pride as it took two people to move ‘em. It was at this moment that I watched in horror as my guitar case came flying out of the X-Ray/Throwing Machine and was flung airborne into a wall. Oh well. It was only a peek at the beatings our stuff would endure on this trip to Spain.
We got on the plane and John and I had a hankering for tomato juice. We each had three cans. Turns out there's about 225 grams of sodium in each can and by the end, my fingers were puffy and fat and my feet were so swollen, I couldn't put my shoes on. Don't do that.
In Frankfurt, We almost missed our flight to Barcelona because we were once again in the wrong terminal. Smooth.
posted by Faiz @ 10:04 AM 6 comments
Spanish Tour 3/30-3/31, 2004 Barcelona
Tuesday, March 30th
We landed in Barcelona in the early afternoon. My Spanish made a quick comeback as I had to explain to the customs guy that we weren't trying to sell our keyboards in Spain, we just wanted to play some music. After customs, we walked into the vestibule and met up with our label guy/internet boyfriend James and took a pair of cabs to his flat. We made it!
The elevator in James' flat is awkward. It's about 100 years old, rickety and has very inconvenient doors for moving large things like musical equipment. We turned his place into what looked like a backstage area and hung out for a while before James headed back to the Fork Series HQ for work. The three of us roamed through the parks and streets, taking in the city and staving off sleep to beat jetlag like sharks that keep swimming so they won't die. We made it back and James cooked us a delicious welcome dinner.
We caught up with James over food and he mentioned how we were all "much hairier than last time." We waited up for James' friend Andy to come over. Andy is very nice and would be traveling with us, letting us stay at his home and filming stuff for the tour. Andy is a Brit, just like James and it was Haha funny that we traveled to Spain to basically stay in our own version of the British Embassy.
Andy's flat was huge, covered in oodles of beautiful Spanish tiles and was Manchester damp. We couldn't believe how cold and wet Barcelona was. In Andy's flat, there was an original Keith Haring from his first showing. Andy's roommate's grandfather was a famous artist and his Granddaughter was gifted portions of his collection. Andy explained that he had two roommates, one that giggled and one that didn't giggle that much at all in comparison. In the middle of the night, we heard the door open and close and then a giggle. Guess who?
Wednesday, March 31st
Caroline and I got lost on the way back to James' in the morning. We went to APTC for breakfast. APTC became one of our main hangouts, as it was across the street from James' and had the Best Espresso Ever. No joke. We also had our first bocadillos, which are Spanish sandwiches. We walked around and put up some flyers while taking in our new home for two weeks. George Clooney and Carmen Electra's Breasts are everywhere. I kneel in some dog pee while putting up a poster. John and Caroline proceed to call me “pissy” and other such names as good friends truly should.
James invited us to come visit him at the Fork Series HQ. The Fork is run out of the offices of Fresh Sound Records, which reissues the old RCA Jazz back-catalogue. We saw a whole bunch of original ½” reels of Stan Getz and other Jazz greats. The one that wrecked my mind was the original master reel of Miles Davis live in Sweden in 1972. Zowie.
We get lost flyering and were late to meet James for some food. We got a chance to check out FNAC, the “Tower-style” record mart we have an in-store at later in the tour. It is huge. I still couldn’t find an open place to exchange Traveler's checks.
posted by Faiz @ 10:03 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/1/2004 Madrid
Thursday, April 1st
John and James went to get the vans and the rental keyboard amps. Les Philippes, our support act (you will see how much of an understatement this is) let us use their guitar amps, and drums for the tour. The rental places were slow and crappy. People were either on "holiday" or "lunch" or a combination of the two. "Spanish" and "work ethic" are not necessarily related. The relaxed vibe can be nice unless you are two hours late starting off your first tour.
Kennet (guitar, vox) and Carles (vox, bass) of Les Philippes met us in front of James'. Kennet and I look so much alike that John, whom I've been best friends with for nine years, mistook him for me. They are super nice. Carles tells us that he's heard us a bunch on the radio and we're all excited to do this tour together. We drive out to their home to meet up with Xavi (keyboards, vox), Pau (drums, vox) and Guillem (crazy sound dude, van driver) and hit the road for Madrid.
“El Torito Bravo” marks the countryside. Osbourne Whiskey has these incredible billboards that are just giant silhouettes of their "Bull" logo. On tops of mountains, at the bottoms of valleys, in forest clearings and countless other places, these ominous, yet oh so cool bulls catch our eyes.
We make a stop to eat bocadillos and I leave the video camera on while it's on my tray, inadvertently making some really crappy art film. Good thing Andy's filming, too. James keeps referring to our vehicle as a "van" and that keeps cracking us up. It's a "Kangoo" and by no stretch of the oversized American imagination would it be referred to as a van over here.
Just outside of Madrid, Andy gets pulled over and has to pay a ticket (read: bribe) on the spot. James was talking to the cop from across the passenger seat. With all the wind from the coming storm and the cars blasting by, James snarkily asked the cop to come over to his side. The cop then proceeded to chew James out and asked if he'd like to come down to the station. James politely declined. We decided that if anyone asks, we say that James killed the police officer. James Pearse killed a cop.
Madrid's a parking lot and it'd started to rain. As we barely moved through the gridlock, it went more or less like this:
Caroline: "Blah, blah, blah, blah, Tortoise."
James: "Hey Andy, be careful, you're going to hit that..."
THUNK! + sound of side view mirror collapsing after striking traffic cop with car.
All: "(stunned silence)" "...oh shit." "Is she following us?" "Let's just keep driving." "Is she coming?" "She's fine, we just clipped her."
Andy keeps driving in traffic as we make the slowest getaway ever.
If anyone asks, Andy Lewis killed a cop, too.
We finally make it to the aptly titled Sala Nasti. It's a wide room with a big lighted grid on the back wall that moves in patterns while you play. We bought a power regulator so we could run our keyboards on Spanish current. First two times we turn it on during sound check, we blow the power to the club. Great.
Our friend Sergio is in the audience of about seven people. He is still as slick and dashing as he was when he stayed with us last summer. Les Philippes is very very good and we hear a set of songs that we'd soon come to love for its catchiness and earnest delivery.
We start off our rough set. Kennet's guitar amp sounds weird, but we're playing in Spain! In between songs, I test out my Spanish and try to introduce us. While I'm fumbling with the words, one of the women in the audience shouts: "You don't have to speak in Spanish, we're all from Georgia!" The only folks that are there are Sergio, who is from Brazil and six folks from Georgia. Not even the Republic of Georgia, Just Georgia. Whatever. We're playing in Spain!
After the show, we got our first taste of "Paying to Play." The way it works in Spain is that you rent the venue and if enough people don't show up, you owe the club. Andy and James walked the walk of sadness with Caroline as she got Euros out of the ATM. Crap. We broke bread with Sergio and the Georgians after the show. Actually we ate some more bocadillos.
We said our goodbyes to Serge and headed over to our hotel to sleep.
posted by Faiz @ 10:02 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/2/2004 Vigo
Friday April 2nd
I hate Karl Malden. Traveler's checks are useless in Spain. The Euros I had ran out and the bank will not cash travelers’ checks because they say they are not valid. We get some espresso, go back to Sala Nasti to get our equipment and hit the road for Vigo.
Traveling in the close confines of a Kangoo really magnifies one’s idiosyncratic behaviors to others. For example:
Me: “It’s like an enigma wrapped in a riddle…”
Caroline (laughing): “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up…”
Me: “…wrapped in a puzzle…”
Caroline (pointing and shouting, now): “Shut up, SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
Me: “…locked inside a Chinese box…”
Caroline (crying, laughing and shouting with her hands dangerously close to my throat) “SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!!!!”
Good times.
The drive is beautiful. Vigo is on the west coast of Spain just north of Portugal. The scenery was incredible and we stopped for lunch with the Les Philippes camp for more damn bocadillos. Iguana club in Vigo is really cool! There’s a catwalk that lines the stage so people can look down on you when you play. When we were planning the tour, James had mentioned that in our rider that we would get “A Lion.” Upon closer inspection, there are actually two gold lion statues flanking the stage. Well done, James.
The sound check is nuts. For the second night in a row, we blow the power to the club when we turn our gear on. Yeah! Kennet starts playing “Across the Universe” and we all sing along as the sound guy scrambles to fix the power issue. In spite of it all, this has a really calming effect as we ponder whether or not anyone is going to show up.
There's an attic at the top of a rickety ladder that leads to the upstage lounge. We spend a good minute mugging for Andy’s camera, throwing up DA, Fork Series and Les Philippes graffiti. After a bit, we get kicked out of the club so the staff can go eat dinner. We find this to be odd that the venue doesn’t reopen until 15 minutes before show time.
Les Philippes plays to nobody, yet they rock like there’s 3,000 heads in the door. From that point on, whenever we have a low turnout for a gig we remember the heart that those dudes have. Inspiring. There’s a point during their set that I am so overwhelmed that for a brief instant, Les Philippes is my favorite band ever.
We have a crowd that filters in, so the house is packed by the time we're done, with tons of folks lining the catwalk. During the lead in “Langley,” I put my foot up on the Lion statue’s head and wail. John seems bummed out about how we played, but I think he felt a little better when a few ladies asked all of us to sign the DA tour posters and smooch all three of us on the cheeks.
In spite of the turnout by the end of the show, we are informed that we owe the club money. Since most venues in Spain turn into nightclubs after hours, they stopped charging people at the door halfway through our set. We only had 6 paid attendees. We all feel nauseous and depressed as the maw of debt tries to swallow our little tour.
Caroline and I freak out while loading the equipment as we are losing so much money on this. Did we bite off more than we can chew? Who is really going to see our puny band regardless of where we play? What’s the point? Why did we think we could tour in Spain? We ditch the vans in a parking garage and head back to the club, which is downright packed with insipid dance mavens. Where were all these jerks when we were playing?
We are depressed and on the verge of tears. James looks miserable and keeps telling us how he feels “gutted.” We talk about not playing the next night in A Coruna and going back to Barcelona with our tails between our legs. Financially speaking, this could put us all in the poorhouse. A third night of “Paying to Play” would be ruinous.
Due to their unflappable good moods, Les Philippes are really fun to hang out with. We all stay at La Iguana until the wee hours of the morning bonding over the fact that this tour is going down the tubes. I tore the pocket of my leather coat on the stairs @ Iguana. James keeps apologizing until I tell him how proud we are to be a Fork Series band. James believes in us and he took a chance on our band and for that we owe him quite a lot. Instead, he’s just become a really great friend. How mushy.
On the walk back to the hotel, the Les Philippes camp decides to go to one of Vigo’s “Open until 11am bars” across the street. John goes with him. James, Andy, Caroline and I hang out in the hotel and mope. I close my hand in a window something fierce. There is lots of blood. James is a dude. Andy and he talk us into playing A Coruna anyway. They are right. We must rock.
While we’re trying to sleep, John comes into the DA room and shouts: “I just went to a Gay Bar with Les Philippes!” Riotous laughter. Never mind that the building had a pink façade with butterflies and it was called El Manco (“the one armed bandit”), the boys didn’t notice where they were until some guy started rubbing Xavi’s stomach. He kept asking him, "Quieres cocania?" and tried to follow him into the men’s room. Too funny. We spend the next half hour cackling ourselves to sleep, all the while sickly nervous about the next day.
posted by Faiz @ 10:01 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/3/2004 A Coruna
Saturday April 3rd
Morale is low. The growing maw of debt makes us all depressed. A Coruna is gorgeous. Miles and miles of trees and mountains and water and amazing suspension bridges mark the land. We roll into a Coruna and pull into a parking garage. Guillem backs the van at 90mph in reverse in between two cars into a space. Guillem is crazy. He is stone sober. He is Crazy.
The Hotel Espana messed up our reservation and we don't have room vouchers. John, Caroline and I are sitting in this glorious lobby, planning a photo shoot when James comes in and says we have to leave because the reduced-rate rooms were not set aside. We check into a hostel, weary, sad and hungry.
Andy: "I went to take a shower in the room and I heard this strange sound outside. I looked out the window and it was the Hotel Espana sucking the dick of the Hostel." Stunned silence. Riotous laughter.
We go to a restaurant near the club. The meal is unfulfilling, much like the tour at this point. John has a major headache, which is only exacerbated by the “David-Beckham-Starter-Kit” looking guy running a loud, gas-powered RC car in the restaurant. He is clearly the coolest person in A Coruna and has this little chubby kid in tow, who for some reason is wearing a bandana across his face like a bandit. I still don't have any money. I’m going to find and kill Karl Malden.
The club we’re playing at is called Mardi Gras. It has a “Mississippi Riverboat” look to it with railings around the bar and a “Mississippi Riverboat” mural behind the mirror lined stage. The bar itself is decorated to look like a giant alligator with its head sticking out of the doorway into the street. During sound check, we realize that we lost the adapter to the power converter in Vigo the night before. We can't play. This does not make us feel any better. Kennet saves the day by cutting the cable to the regulator and splicing it to a 220v plug. We name the converter "Kennet." “Kennet” blows the power in the club when we turn on our gear. We can’t count on people to show up, but we can count on blacking out a club every night.
We get kicked out of the club for dinner time. Show starts @ 11:30. At 11:00, the lights are off and the club is closed, closed, closed. We are freaking out and pissed. At 11:30, Les Philippes start playing and all of a sudden people start filing in. The room is actually crowded! This is great because Les Philippes rocks the hell out of the room. This local recognizes me from our website and is impressed by my Spanish. He’s been looking forward to this show for weeks and we talk music for a half hour. Some guy from Mondosonoro magazine is there. Then someone comes in and sets up a T.V. camera.
We play the best show we’ve ever done. I'm throwing guitar fireballs and doing backbends, waving to the audience in the mirrors around the stage. Caroline is rocking and hunched over her keyboards like Cousin It and her voice is soaring. John is machine-gunning his drums and gets airborne for the first time while playing. I badmouth our stupid President for Spanish T.V. in Spanish. At the end of the set, James lets us in on the fact that we don’t have to pay the club and we made a little money! This feels like a massive victory. Within one hour, the tide turned on this tour and we were literally dancing in the street outside the club with Les Philippes. They had taken a fondness for pantomiming my stupid rock moves and making guitar squealing sounds. More autographs. This big drunk weirdo forces John to autograph the same picture of Keith Richards over and over.
It has never felt so good to be in a band. We go for ice cream and head back to the hostel for the first real success of the tour.
posted by Faiz @ 10:00 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/4-4/6, 2004 Back to Barcelona
Palm Sunday, April 4th
We get a late start. Les Philippes has written a “see you in Barcelona” message to us in the filth on the windshield of the Kangoo. We have a leisurely breakfast of espresso and freshly made churros and chocolate sauce. We get in the Kangoo and proceed to drive the gloriously amazing 12 Hour trek from one coast of Spain to the other. The scenery is indescribable. Every mile and a half, our surroundings change to something completely different and equally gorgeous. We stopped for an amazing meal in this tiny town just outside Burgos. Mmmmmm.
The Spanish countryside is amazing. At one point, there are snowy mountains to the left and barren desert to the right. We literally drive into mountains and play a billion songs on the CD player. We smell. The Kangoo smells. We see a brand of men's briefs in a gas station called "ASSMAN." No one has the nerve to buy them.
We’re excited to get back because Jenny is going to be in Barcelona by the time we get there. All of us belt out a big, tired sing-along to Harry Nilsson's "Without You" and we wish we could listen to Christopher Cross' "Arthur's Theme." We drive for forever. Oh yes. We smell. We get back to James' flat and load in. The guy that owns APTC moves his car so we can park in front of James’ overnight. It's good to be home and it's even better to think of Barcelona as home.
Monday, April 5th
We go hang up flyers with Jenny. Its fun cause it feels like "Our Family" is finally together. We meet up with Jose from 12Twelve @ FNAC. Jose stayed with us last summer when his band came to record @ Electrical Audio with Steve Albini. 12Twelve and their extended family (Nacho, Sergio from Madrid, Karlos and our James) are great houseguests and even better friends. We think he's late, but we were at opposite ends of the giant complex. Jose takes us to this restaurant with a giant camel sculpture in the entryway. We sit in this amazing Courtyard in the middle of this huge building lined with stained glass and dine on Rabbit and chicken. I cover the spot where the rabbit's head used to be with my lettuce and chomp away. We have an amazingly delicious meal and catch up with our good friend.
Jose takes us to a few enthralling cathedrals. Every time we step into a cathedral, Jose’s phone rings and its Javier from 12Twelve. Spooky.
John and I have a heartfelt discussion about the merits of wearing sunglasses and being in Spain.
Jose takes me to a place where I can cash my traveler's checks by the Ramblas and in a fit of joy, immediately buy MY OWN cigarettes, MY OWN El Torito lighter and MY OWN gum.
We go with Jose and James to this restaurant where they serve us Spanish-Style nachos, which is Doritos with salsa and guacamole. It sucks. The meal we have after, however, is totally tasty. James, in a moment of good humor pounds on the table and shouts: "BRING! ME! MY! FOOD!” This causes the waitress to make a mad scramble for the table. James feels bad, but it was funny.
We meet up with Andy who has informed us that he has had a very difficult time returning the Kangoo. He did however, get to hear Christopher Cross' "Arthur's Theme" while the shit went down
On the way home, we are approached by the three zillionth dude selling flowers that we didn’t want.
James: ”No, gracias.”
“No, gracias.”
“No, gracias.”
“FUCK. OFF.”
(to us): “You’d be surprised by how many language barriers that breaks down.”
We cap off the night @ APTC and ready ourselves for our show tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 6th
We have a show at FNAC @ 7:00 with sound check @ 5:00. Les Philippes is bringing us their van and their equipment so that we can use it for the show that they are not even playing. By the time we get to FNAC, they have beaten us and have already loaded their gear into the space. Unbelievable.
Apparently playing the forum at FNAC is a big thing. The stage is like a small T.V. studio set up in a forum in the middle of a huge shopping complex. We're brought refreshments while we set up. After an amazing sound check through this bitchin' Harmon Kardon P.A. system, James' phone rings and I get to do an interview for Spanish National Radio while everyone hangs out. I feel pretty cool at this point. The boys from 12Twelve show up and we have a little reunion. It's great to see Jens, Jaume, Javier and Nacho again. Jose informs us that FNAC will videotape your show and give it to you if you get them a Cassette. We do that.
Our friend Matt from the states is there and he said that on the FNAC website's front page, there is a picture of Monster Magnet and a picture of us. Wow. The room gets packed and we rock the whole shopping plaza. You can't go anywhere in the building without hearing us. There is a very old woman on the speaker stack next to me and a very old man on the speaker next to Caroline. Apparently, they come to every show there. This 60+ year old man from Scotland tells me that he's never heard music as creative as ours before in his life and walks off to buy our disc. Thanks, Scottish guy!
Les Philippes lends us their van for the next two days so that we can bring our gear to Sidecar for the last show in Barcelona in two days and then they take the train home. I love Les Philippes.
posted by Faiz @ 9:59 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/7-4/9, 2004 Barcelona
Ash Wednesday, April 7th
John, Jenny, Caroline, Kennet and I met Jose for the grandest tour of Barcelona ever. After another great morning espresso @ APTC, we meet under the obelisk at the Spanish World's Fair campus, which was built at the same time as ours. Jose has an inspiring passion for Art, Culture and architecture and is extremely proud to be born and raised in Barcelona. It shows. We see great stuff at the Modern Art museum, catch an exhaustive Dali retrospective and hang around Mies Van Der Rohe's only building in Barcelona.
Lots of stair climbing and there are escalators built into the mountain that the campus is on. We go to the Olympic fields and get to see the very scary Olympic diving pool that has a Vertigo-inducing view of Barcelona behind it. Apparently, the other countries had a big problem with how terrifying the view was. The Spaniards did well in that event. We stop at this gorgeous pool by this very modern Antenna for some band photos and Jose opens his bag and takes out this amazing picnic lunch he prepared for all of us. Chomp!
We walked to the top of the mountain and Jose and Kennet lose it when I refer to a bunch of dudes hanging out as "una Fiesta de Chorizo." Nothing is lost in the translation. Chorizo also means "thief." Neat.
The view from the highest point in Barcelona is breathtaking. It's landlocked by a Mountain, the sea and a river, so they've had to get creative with how they work with the space they have. It has the same population as Chicago, but less sprawl, so the new buildings tend to compliment the design of the old buildings. We catch a bus down the mountain, but immediately get off so Jose can take us to this amazing "Greek-Style" Amphitheatre. This is where Sade had her Barcelona show from her DVD and the desire to go down to the bottom and sing "Sweetest Taboo" is not stopped.
We meet up with James and Andy after work and eat in the Placa Real, where Sidecar is. Someone interrupts our meal of really great bocadillos (olive paste, tomato paste, brie and avocado) and tells us we played a great show @ FNAC the day before. Getting recognized in foreign lands is fun.
Holy Thursday, April 8th
John, Jenny, Caroline and I roam the streets and hit this crazy good buffet for brunch. The prevalence of "Sambo" statues in restaurants is unnerving.
We get over to Sidecar and park in the middle of the plaza. Sidecar looks like a cave. The sound guy is the spitting image of the director in American Movie. We're nervous. The power blows when we turn our stuff on again. Jenny observes the longest sound check ever and is amazed by Les Philippes' patience. We inform her that they are always like this. Oh yeah. Remember how Les Philippes lent us their van for the show? Well, they borrowed a friend's sister's van to get them and their remaining gear over to the club. Les Philippes rules.
There's a full house for the show. Les Philippes has an amazing hometown set and each song fills us with sad because it's the last time in a long while that we'll get to hear these tunes live again. They more than earn an encore.
Our set is a little rough. It's a good show, but not as great as the last two. James Agrees. I dedicated "United Snakes" to "las putas, George Bush y Aznar" and the place erupted in cheers and arms in the air. Dammit, we shoulda played that song earlier in the set. 12Twelve is in the house as well. The sound on the stage is terrible. All we can hear is feedback and I was kinda bummed. The house sound was supposedly good, though. We actually make enough money to cover half of our debt! I think we sold a total of four CDs on tour. Go, us!
After the set, Sidecar turns into a nightclub that is once again more packed than our show, Les Philippes informs us that they are going to go home with their gear and we can use their van until we leave on Sunday. John and Jenny go to park the van and Caroline, James, Andy and I stick around. Sidecar lets us keep our stuff in the backstage so we don't have to move anything.
After two hours of no John and Jenny, Caroline and I really start to worry. They finally show up and John looks beat. He tells us that when he pulled out of the placa Real, the cops followed him. Les Philippes went their own way and a block later, the cops pull him over and they are hostile. Three seconds later, the Les Philippes van pulls up along side him, and all five dudes pile out and surround John as he passes a breathylizer. John doesn't speak Spanish and Les Philippes acted as translators between John and the Fuzz. Had they not showed up to save the day yet again, John could very well have gone to jail. Les Philippes, everybody.
Sleep is good.
Good Friday, April 9th
John, Jenny, Caroline and I go to Gaudi's Sagrada Familia Catedral. Oh, Jesus. It is unlike any other church ever. It was started years ago and then Generalissimo Francisco Franco came into power and put a hold on the whole project. When he died, they got back to work on it and it is still under construction. Amazing stained glass windows and sculptures and this huge iron door carved with scripture and fruits boggle the mind.
We headed over to Placa Real to pick up our stuff from Sidecar. Unfortunately because it was Good Friday, we couldn't get to the club because of street closings. We parked the van a better part of a mile away and had to use the keyboard amps as carts to move all of our stuff over these bumpy, cobblestone streets.
When we got the first round of stuff back to the van, John realized that he had left the van keys in his coat, which was back at the club. I waited with the equipment and scowled at everyone that walked by, trying to look menacing and tough so that no one would try to steal our shit.
We went to this place where they serve "leche de pantera," or "Panther's Milk" and "wall cider." We call it wall cider because it's put into a tube in the wall and you push this plunger which rockets the cider through a tube and dumps it into your glass, freshly carbonated. These three guys recognize us from the Sidecar show and make Caroline eat the potent cheese they have at their table.
John and Jenny went over to Andy's and Caroline and I stayed up with James all night listening to records and smoking these horrible BN cigarettes that taste like cigar butts. They make James' flat smell really bad. I crashed at 6:30 and Caroline stayed up a little longer to watch an amazing sunrise over the city.
posted by Faiz @ 9:58 AM 0 comments
Spanish Tour 4/10-4/11, 2004 Barcelona to Chicago
Saturday, April 10th
It is my 27th birthday! Caroline wasn't feeling well, but we went out with John and Jenny anyway. We split up after a while so I could get Caroline food and then take her home. We ate a totally unsatisfying meal at the bocadillo fast food equivalent of McDonald's. It sucked.
Caroline and I were waiting for John and Jenny, grumping about how we'd never move to Spain when this man asked if he could take our picture. We didn't probably didn't look uber attractive as we'd each gotten about 4 hours of sleep, so we assumed that he recognized us from somewhere. We stopped badmouthing Barcelona rather quickly.
We went back home to James' and James and I proceeded to hammer our abused flight cases together. In James' small flat, it was deafeningly loud and not pleasant. James came in with ice cream and cake. James is a dude.
We met up with Les Philippes and Jose at this amazing Tapas restaurant. Carles' American girlfriend was there and was relieved to hang out with some Yankees for a change. Her father was the guy that discovered Pink Floyd. Jose gave me one of the coolest birthday presents ever. He handed me a bag with four 12Twelve CD's. Three were for the three of us and one was for me to give to Steve Albini in person.
We met up with Andy and his girlfriend, Ulia at this Absinthery. Jenny and Caroline went home as Caroline was still feeling crummy from the previous day and two weeks of being sick on the road. John and I decided that we were just going to stay up all night until our flight home. Real smart. We said our goodbyes to Jose. He told me that never in his whole life would he imagine traveling across the planet to Chicago last summer and meeting friends as good as us. I couldn't have agreed more. Made me cry.
We then went with Guillem to Razzmatazz, a 3000+ capacity dance club. Wall-to-wall. I was stopped by three guys that shouted "Danger Adventure!!!" and proceeded to pantomime my guitar moves in a fashion similar to the way Les Philippes did. I spoke to them for a while and then John and I headed for the dance floor with Guillem. The Strokes at 50,000dB actually sounds really great.
On the way home, John and I had a really great bonding session with Guillem. He used to have a drug problem many years ago and has totally cleaned up his act and is now training to climb a mountain. He drives like a NASCAR racer, but there's something reassuring about being the passenger in a car with the most sober driver on the road. Guillem went home and John and I had run out of places to go. We headed over to Andy's to sleep for one hour before going back to James' to leave. Real smart.
Easter Sunday, April 11th
John and I didn't hear his alarm go off. Andy was sent to wake us, as we were two hours late to James' and Jenny couldn't get a hold of us on the phone. We amble over to James' and most of our stuff is already in the lobby, thanks to everyone except us. Everyone is surprisingly nice and James cracks up when he hears that we went to Razzamatazz until 6:30. Jovial, even.
We barely make it to the airport in time, but its okay because the folks at the airline put all of our stuff on the plane without weighing it or checking it. Kinda makes us nervous. I was taking a little nap in the boarding terminal and Caroline sweetly woke me up and gave me a sandwich and some juice that she bought for me. We sleep all the way to Frankfurt.
The Frankfurt security was not pleasant. The rifles made me nervous. I was questioned for a long while by the customs guy. He asked me to take off my hat and a bunch of rose petals fell out of it and onto the floor. He didn't seem all that amused. We got through okay, though.
Caroline and I sat separately from John and Jenny on the plane and spent the last eight hours of our trip dozing on and off in exhausted silence.
My brother, Sameer picked us up at the airport and took us to my house. We loaded the stuff into my place and he left. I took Caroline home and waved goodbye. Dropped John and Jenny off, went back home, made a few phone calls and then passed out in my own sorely missed bed.
kerble is right.