5.27.98: Northampton

How can this be a tour diary entry when it no longer feels like we are on tour? Oh, sure we played our 105th show of the year last night at the Iron Horse in Northampton and almost half of the set was comprised of a marathon version of "John Coltrane Stereo Blues," the first time we played the song on this US tour. And yes yes yes we will all climb into the van tomorrow to make our last drive of the tour into New York City for a show at the Knitting Factory before delivering bodies and equipment to various resting points the following morning. But as I sit here with Linda in Amy Mehaffey's beautiful Amherst home watching rock video compilations from the late 80s (Cutting Edge with Peter Zaremba and various Babes In Toyland, Halo of Flies, Thin White Rope, X, REM and on and on and on......), drinking coffee, eating bagels, doing laundry and actually relaxing with no place to go it seems as if rock clubs and motels exist in some other world. Heck, that's the world I love and the world I live and I wouldn't trade it for a thing but at this moment as my body and brain descend into 'normal' Manhattan life, I wouldn't trade this spot on this couch for anything in the world.

5.25.98: Amherst

Heaven. I'm in Heaven. Sitting here in the lovely home of Amy Mehaffey (former wife of Syndicate drummer Dennis Duck) with one show in the next 86 hours and nothing to do but read, play guitar, eat Mexican food from Cha Cha Cha (see earlier in the tour diary), sleep, wash clothes, read the mail I picked up during my 60 minutes at home yesterday, type these very tour diary entries and just generally make a gradual descent into what passes for normal life in New York City where I will begin to live again for the first time since this whole mega-tour began in mid-January. Five Months. 110 shows. Just incredible and all of the memories are beginning to flash before my eyes even before it is over. Just more of the gradual descent.
Played last night at the Towne Crier in Pawling, just an hour north of Manhattan and seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Actually this 'middle of nowhere' seemed very appealing to me and flashed that "I-could-live-here" button that gets depressed now and then when I fool myself into thinking I could live anywhere but a big bustling city. The club owner Phil had made just that decision when he left Manhattan for the Pawling area and opened this club, a dinner-and-dessert spot drawing singer/songwriters from miles around. We played a very relaxed set to an audience that included Record Cover Art Guru Brigid Pearson who filled in as merch salesman and dessert taster as well. And today we all slept past noon and now it's three and the jam session that is currently taking place between Robert and Kirk is the most amitious movement of the day. Excuse me while I take a nap

5.24.98: Philadelphia

I've never avoided black cats, broken mirrors or walking under ladders but I just seem to have a serious aversion to repeating any song during a two-night stand at any club (this could turn into a problem if I ever play, say, seven or eight-night stands but I'll worry about that when it happens). And, so, I'm proud to say that during the four sets (two each night) at Philadelphia's Tin Angel---a great, intimate club with an amazing restaurant underneath--that we didn't play any song twice, though I should point out that with time restrictions of turning over the house between sets we only played 32 songs over the two nights, just six more than, for example, the one show in Brussels last March. Here's what happened:
May 22

first set:
MERRITTVILLE (acoustic) - IS THERE SOMETHING I SHOULD KNOW (acoustic) - HOW'S MY LITTLE GIRL - TUESDAY - TEARS WON'T HELP - BURN - TRANSPARENCY (with Wes)

second set:
THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES (acoustic) - TELL ME WHEN IT'S OVER (acoustic) - NEVER ENDING RAIN - BLACK MAGIC - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE - FOR ALL I CARE - THE BLUE DRIFTER - HALLOWEEN - MELTING IN THE DARK - CAROLYN (with Wes)

MAY 23
first set:
THE MEDICINE SHOW (acoustic) - UNDER THE WEATHER (acoustic with Kirk, Robert) - CARRY A TORCH - CARELESSLY - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT - KILLING TIME - KEROSENE MAN

second set:
SEE THAT MY GRAVE IS KEPT CLEAN (acoustic) - WHATEVER YOU PLEASE (acoustic with Robert) - WHEN YOU SMILE - BLOOD FROM A STONE - SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY - THIS DEADLY GAME - GRACE - THAT'S THE WAY LOVE IS - BOSTON -
I can also tell the foodies out there that I ate a slightly spicy Filet Mignon the first and cuddled up to a Paella Valenciana the second. As for the rest of the quartet, Linda had a grilled tuna steak on a bed of sugarcane (first) and a spicy salmon (second), Kurt had mushroom mu-shu (first) and various middle eastern appetizers (second) and Kirk had a two-night orgy of pastas (Lo Mein the first, pasta vegetariono the second). For some of you, this may be more important than the set list and I can say without reservation (though some may be needed for dinner itself) that Serrano's (located right below the Tin Angel) has the best 'gig food' you will ever find in this big ol' country. Add it to your travel plans.

5.21.98: Crossing the Mason-Dixon line

The accents begin to get lighter, the air less thick with humidity and I can feel us leaving the south and getting closer and closer to the Northwest which, for me, means home. Home. A strange concept as I have spent only five weeks in New York since last August and those weeks were usually stopovers between various legs of touring. I can feel the hunger to write new songs, record them and give birth to a new little adorable five- inch cd. The family of music grows and I spread the word as far and as wide as possible. Proof positive of this intensity of touring was that last night was the 100th show of the current quartet, a string that began last December at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. Athens, Greece to Athens, Georgia. the shorelines of the Pacific, Atlantic, Adriatic, Mississippi. Last night's set was a somewhat uneventful, anticlimactic celebration after the transcendance of the night before in Atlanta but even on such a night, the time spent together on and off stage allowed Kirk, Kurt, Linda and myself (and Robert, who has become quite the fifth member of the quartet--strange concept) to hit magic moments often on even the slower nights. six more shows to go but many beyond that, I"m sure.

5.20.98: Entering North Carolina

Like some long-running series reaching its conclusion, all of the recurring characters are coming back to make their final appearance before the show goes off the air. And as the tour rolls into its final week it was only appropriate that we should be reunited with Ford Loving who we hadn't seen since we changed planes in Iceland over six weeks ago. Six weeks. At this point after driving the entire perimeter of the United States, Europe seems like it happened a lifetime ago. I felt like we had to bring Ford up to date after many years apart but it had only been 43 days, albeit 43 days filled with so many memorable experiences and so we welcomed Ford like the long-lost relative he truly is and after the show in Atlanta we drove the 90 minutes to his house in Maxey's, Georgia to reminisce, look at photos and explore the grounds of his plot of land in the Georgia woods. We all miss him very much and his presence was a tour highlight.
The Atlanta show was a bit of a highlight as well with a very receptive audience in the very elegant Smith's Old Bar seeing us firing on all cylinders (a good night's sleep is a very valuable tool, indeed) and playing one of my favorite shows of the tour, a mixture of acoustic and quiet and electric and completely freaked out. The evening, most appropriately ended with Ford (who had reflexively found himself at the merch table) coming down to add his fiery leads to the AC/DC finale. Our 99th show together and a definite celebration

5.19.98: Driving to Atlanta

Just a few more in the endless comments about the fabulous Continental Drifters, a band that has been a big part of these tour diaries in the last year. We are cruising on the highway between Birmingham and Atlanta with an advance cd of the Drifters' new album "Vermillion" and it is already my favorite album of the year. Besides bringing back so many good memories, it also captures their live show perfectly which is never an easy thing to do. If I had more than two thumbs I would give it an even bigger rating than the 'Two Thumbs Up" that I'm giving it right now. It will be out on Blue Rose in Germany later in the month with a US release to follow at some point but American listeners should just find it on import rather than wait. Okay, plug over.
We are thrilled today as we will have a joyous reunion with Ford Loving tonight at our show in Atlanta before retiring to his swamp mansion in Maxey's, Georgia for sleep and maybe a sunrise canoe expedition. I know that we all miss Ford and 18 hours won't be enough but it's enough to fill us with anticipation. A good week for old friends

5.18.98: Alabama

Last night the nine months of touring came full circle as we played at Tipitina's in New Orleans and were joined on stage by Vicki Peterson, Susan Cowsill, Peter Holsapple and Robert Mache of the Continental Drifters while bandmates Mark Walton and Russ Broussard completed the Fall US tour reunion as they watched from the audience. The show felt more like a party than an actual concert as we reminisced about a fantastic tour that seems more the stuff of myth than something that happened only seven months ago. Here is what was served at the party:

TEARS WON'T HELP - BLACK MAGIC - THIS DEADLY GAME - WHEN YOU SMILE - THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY - TUESDAY (with Vicki and Susan on backing vocals and Wes on Harmonica) - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE (Vicki and Susan) - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT (Peter on accordian) - YOUNGER (Robert Mache on guitar) - THAT'S THE WAY LOVE IS (Robert Mache)


The latter two featured three-count 'em three-electric guitarists with Robert and Kirk madly duelling on double-lead solos while along with friends like Rich, Judy, Settlee, Matt and long-distance travellers like Mike (from Alabama) and Sarah and Angela (Mississippi) I became a member of the audience smiling, laughing and hoping the party would never end. And it wasn't until Wes' fine set that ended with a wild free-for-all on the AC/DC finale followed by more chatting at Kerry's Irish Pub around the corner followed by a sliver of sleep followed by breakfast at Mother's (you MUST go there when in New Orleans) that the festivities did finally end. This city truly does never sleep but, alas, we must eventually and so it's a very quiet dazed van ride today as we travel to Birmingham.

5.17.98: Driving to New Orlans

Greetings, Stevesters! Robert Lloyd here, taking over the diary for the day at the request of your guru, Mr. Steve Wynn. The unremarkable (thoiugh no doubt exotic to our European readers) landscape of Gulf Coast Texas rolls by as we leave Houston for New Orleans, where Mr. Wynn will eat himself into a state of satori and we will see our friends (and in some cases former bandmates) the Continental Drifters. What mayhem may ensue tomorrow's entry will surely reveal. Houston, meanwhile, was very good to us, better I'm sure than most of us imagined it would be -- though Wes did have the sense from the moment he entered the Mucky Duck (down a side street so modest we missed at first and went miles out of our way, through some of the toniest neighborhoods of that moneyed burg -- the fourth largest city in America I was later to learn) that it would be a good night. "Irish pub" was the mode, and there was Guinness on tap and darts in the back room. Steak and kidney pie, Scotch eggs. Not a rock club, but a famous local folk gig. (Loudon Wainwright had just been in, Guy Clark is coming.) A two-show night, with the first show deemed "no smoking." A stage on which we barely fit; Linda could only get out from behind her drums with difficulty, which made her quite conspicuously the last person offstage. The first show began strangely -- any show where you have to watch people finishing their dinners while you try to get the pop thing happening may be properly said to begin strange. In addition there was a bit of a grandparently cast to the crowd -- "cruise ship" I believe was Linda's metaphor. Because the house was being (in the show business parlance) "turned," Wes and Steve consolidated their sets, Wes coming up at the end of Steve's set to begin his own. And by the time the band got back up for the finale it was clear some real success was being had -- this was borne out by the many post-set congratulations and fantastic business at the merch desk (53 CDs sold). The second set, begun with acoustic renditions of the "rarely performed" (in two senses of the phrase) "My Old Haunts" (myself on accordion) and "One by One" (mandolin) and ending with the mass group version of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" was all good, occasioning whoops and hollers and at least one fertility dance. A fine time was had by all. Houston had a night to remember and the band drank free. (And remember to tip your waitress.) Back to you, Steve.

5.16.98: Leaving Dallas

The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind of emotions and this ride to Houston finds us as quiet as we have been on any trip as the events of the past day begin to sink in.
1) ARSENAL WINS THE DOUBLE--After four months of following the amazing comeback and incredible winning streak of the favorite team/obsession of Barry and Wes, we have all become caught up in the steamroller that is the Arsenal squad as they won their league two weeks ago and the FA Cup today, the first time that a team has garnered the two titles since 1971. I'm sure all of you American readers will think we've completely gone off our collective rocker to be so excited about the other football with NBA finals and baseball to keep our attention but, as a former sportswriter, I can appreciate how important and unique a season this has been for the North London team and as a friend of Wes and Barry I have been infected with the excitement of the team's season. tonight we celebrate

2) THE DEATH OF FRANK SINATRA--Frank Sinatra is one of my favorite singers of all time and his life was such a classic American tale that I found myself teary-eyed as I watch the news coverage of his life and achievements. I'm not sure if the rest of the touring party was as moved as I was but we all ended our set in Dallas last night with a spirited version of "That's Life" that was enjoyed by, amongst others, website guru Thomas Mejer Hansen and the wonderful Dorte. I'm going to be searching desperately for a copy of "September of My Years," one of my favorite albums, to enjoy for the rest of the tour.

3) KURT'S DAD WAS THERE!--Jerry Statham, the father of rookie-of-the-year sensation bass player Kurt Statham made it down from Oklahoma to see his son and check out the crazed maniacs that have kidnapped his boy and dragged him all around the world. I think we actually gave off the impression that we are kind, intelligent responsible adults. Imagine that!

4) LAUNDRY--The motel had a washing machine. We have clean clothes. This may not seem like as much of a big deal as the first three items but, then again, YOU haven't been in a van for the last four months. cleans clothes? A VERY big deal, indeed.

and now on to Houston.

5.15.98: Austin

Wes has said that my tour diary could just as easily be called a "Restaurant Guide to the World" and, though that's not entirely true, I do take it as a compliment. I do love food and one of the best things about my chosen profession is that I get to be a food tourist and get to explore culinary treats from all around the world. My 24 hours in the Austin area featured some incredible smoked barbeque just 20 miles outside of the city (can't remember the name, sorry) and breakfast at Austin's noteworthy Las Manitas. Unfortunately, we were an hour too late to sample the breakfast menu (try the Migas next time you're in Austin) but the Mole enchiladas, carne guisada and guacamole were all things of wonder.

And to prove that I don't only discuss food on these pages, I will address that other reason we were in Austin: the show. We went head to head with the tv event of the season--the final episode of 'Seinfeld'--and very much held our own with an enthusiastic audience (I guess they figured they could just substitue one New York resident for another) and one of our better shows. Kirk left after the gig to add background vocals to his former Dumptruck bandmate Seth Tiven's new record which is big news indeed for fans of this great band. Good times, good music, good club, good friends. Made me hungry.

5.13.98: Arizon/New Mexico border

The perfect hour was spent in Tempe last night between sound check and the set when our desperate search for signs of life (the only such thing by the club was the Porn Emporium next door) led us to the dream strip mall that contained: FILBERTO'S--An incredible taco stand that I remembered from our last visit here in 1996 and which Linda and I had talked about ever since. The perfect cheap, greasy but incredibly flavorful Mexican food that I miss from LA and never ever can find in New York. Linda had the chicken tacos and I had an award-winning carnintas burrito. Don't miss this place the next time you're driving through Arizona.
PITA JUNGLE and KEBOB HOUSE--The rest of the band chose the former over the latter (and seemed quite happy) but I couldn't figure out how different the two could be and in what ways they would overlap. Seemed a little highly- specialized for a Tempe strip mall but I couldn't be bothered thinking about it too much from the bliss that was Filberto's

REED'S BOOK STORE--A great collection of magazines and second-hand books and a place where we all dropped good chunks of pd money (Italo Calvino, Raymond Chandler,Vladimir Nabokov,Paul Auster, T. Corraghesen Boyle, Thomas Hardy, Stephen Potter, Kingsley Amis and Harper Lee were amongst the purchases). Extra points to this very cool store for playing Epic Soundtracks during the entire shopping extravaganza.

SOME RECORD STORE WHOSE NAME I CAN'T REMEMBER--and for this I apologize as I would love to plug them as well. A great selection of indie rock, none of which I bought as I still haven't figured out where to put the cds I bought on the European tour. Considered the new Sonic Youth record but I'll save that for another day.

The show went well, of course, as we were all fired up from our hour of consumption-related excitement. Our friend Martin documented the show on his fancy live-recording setup for the fourth night in a row and I'm sure these tapes will end up in the hands of Jaap Bos at some point so you can relive the bliss that was the American Southwest. Cactus after cactus zips by, Bob Dylan's "Time Out of Mind" plays on the stereo and we're heading towards Texas.

5.12.98: Tucson

The Congress Hotel in Tucson is one of my favorite places on Earth. Could this be too much hyperbole from someone who has just finished a European tour that included such places as Rome, Paris, Athens and Stockholm? No no no and again I insist no no no. There is just something special about a very- Southwestern style building that dates back to 1919 and includes a club, hotel, bar, cafe and all of this in the middle of a city that still has enough elements of the Old West to balance out the Frozen in 1955 architecture that includes the famous Chicago Music Store where you can find hundreds of out-of- date pieces of musical gear in various states of disrepair for much too much money. All of this had us in a great mood for our 24 hours at the Congress even when we found that most of our musical friends were out of town on tours of their own (outside of former MC5-er and current member of Rich Hopkins' Luminarios Mike Davis) and we thrilled to the comfort and freedom that only comes when your hotel room is only a few steps from the stage. LIfe's simple pleasures, indeed.

5.11.98: Arizona

That's it. Arizona. What else can you say? Nothing but desert, the occasional cactus and gas stations spaced about 50 miles apart. I try to see this area through the eyes of, for example, Linda who grew up in Minneapolis and probably only saw things like this in magazines or on tv westerns. Nothing new for me since I grew up in California and saw plenty of deserts in my life. Now, I see a cactus and think of mexican foods and the friends I am likely to see tonight in Tucson. It could be a night of giant jam sessions or a night when I find that all of the Giant Sands, Luminarios and the like are all on tour. hard to say but I can say that San Diego was a relatively event- free stopover on the way from LA to Yuma, Arizona (though Kurt and I both reveled in a delicious oil and garlic pasta--my God, I'm going vegan!). We DID play "Killing Time" for the first time and I'm always glad to expand the repetoire.

5.10.98: San Diego

And just like that it's over. Even after four years of living in New York I can't believe that a show in Los Angeles isn't a homecoming but rather another stop on the tour, albeit a stop with more friends and family per audience member than anywhere else in the world (New York included). It was a virtual reunion of the hallowed 80s scene with appearances by Dennis Duck, Chris Cacavas, John Thoman, Keith Mitchell, Don Heffington, Kevin Jarvis along with many other people I see way too infrequently. And then there was a chicken taco dinner with Paul B. Cutler who chose not to go to the club, saying "I don't go to shows anymore, man" which didn't surprise me. I hadn't seen Paul in over a year and, as always, it felt like no time had elapsed since the last time. You spend 4 years in a van with someone and you are close for life. We are bound by tour dates, music on tape (and cd and lp, of course) and inside jokes and memories that will last a lifetime. The show? Really fun and more of a celebration than any of the pressure that used to come with playing my HOME town and a center of the, uh, industry where dreams are made and crushed and all of that nonsense. And as much as I try to protest, it will always feel like home

5.08.98: Driving to Los Angeles

I played the first show with my current quartet last December at San Francisco's Great American Music Hall with John Wesley Harding and Robert Lloyd and last night was deja vu all over again (thanks Yogi Berra) as after 90 shows since that wild Christmas show we returned to the site of that first performance. I can remember being nervous and a bit frantic that first show, having only met Kurt two days before and with 50 songs only barely rehearsed and therefore last night was my first chance to fully enjoy the beauty and glamour of the Great American. Possibly the most lovely club that I have ever played, elegant and ornate and we responded with a relaxed and soulful set of equal beauty:
THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES (acoustic) - SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY (acoustic) - NEVER ENDING RAIN (first time with this band) - BLACK MAGIC - CARRY A TORCH - THIS DEADLY GAME - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE -CAROLYN

Another feature of the Great American is a great-sounding piano and I took advantage of the occasion to keep Robert on stage for the duration of the show. I have been dying to do an entire tour and live record with Robert on piano and last night was a nice preview of that tour and record. In the meantime we're on our way to Los Angeles, a city that I have played more often since I moved to New York than I did when I actually was a resident.

5.07.98: Leaving Chico

Well, THAT was a weird one. The 319 Main Street in Chico, California is one of those clubs that has tried to deal with the age-old (only in America) dilemna of keeping the under-21's away from the demon alcohol by segregating the legal drinkers from the would-be illegal drinkers by making a special section for the sobriety set. Unfortunately, this club chose to make the 'dry' section right smack dab in the middle of the dancefloor and, since nobody at this show was young enough to have to worry about such beverage limitations, the perimeter of the club was filled with beer-sipping (and to those of us on stage nearly invisible) fans while the dancefloor (where an audience would normally be) was completely empty. A little odd but a great chance to play a ballad-filled set, eat from an inspired deli tray, meet Clinton (one of two Suspects fans in the world, I believe) and then pack up and high-tail it back to San Francisco for a day of leisure for the non- residents (Robert, Kirk, me and Linda) and frenzy and stress for the locals (Kurt and Wes). I bought a copy of Elliot Smith's "Either/Or" down the street from the club and I think it will make a perfectly soothing soundtrack for this late-night drive..

5.05.98: Coming to San Francisco

Usually these daily roundups will detail the show the night before or the journey that is currently underway or some kind of anticipation of what's ahead but right now it's 3pm, we're on the road to San Francisco and we've ALREADY PLAYED TODAY! It's a weird feeling to wake up at 9am, grab some coffee and to be on stage three hours later but it's a reality of college campus noontime shows, something which I have done a few times in the past and did once again today at the game room of the Cal State Stanislaus campus. Just surreal. Kids (okay, okay not 'kids,' per se since they were just a year or two younger than Kurt) shooting pool, doing homework and watching the traveling freak show and slowly being converted by our enthusiasm and crafty use of audience-engaging techniques honed over the 80 previous shows this year. A few more cups of coffee and we were back on the road with a night off ahead in San Francisco where Kurt will have his first night at home since early January. Is he excited? You bet he's excited and maybe that's why we had our fastest load-out of the tour and were on the road by 2pm.

5.04.98: Leaving Oregon

Sunday in Eugene was about as laid-back as I would have expected and between the relaxed, uh, 'vibe' of the city, the sparse attendance on this particular evening and the stellar acoustics at Wow Hall where we were playing, a wild rock show just did not seem in order and each time I saw a noisy, freaky song coming up in the set list I quickly replaced it with something more conducive to a club that proudly served VEGAN chocolate chip cookies. I don't think I"ve ever played a more ballad-filled set but i enjoyed the show as much as any on this tour. Here's what we played:
CARELESSLY - TUESDAY - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT (slow version) - BLOOD FROM A STONE - DRIZZLE - THE BLUE DRIFTER - SOME KINDA ITCH (slow version with Robert on organ) - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE

short, sweet, relaxed, transcendant. So laid-back, in fact, that I can only speculate what replaced the butter and eggs in those mysterious cookies. hmmmmm .

5.03.98: Protland

When I was here 18 months ago the Yankees won the World Series and on this visit the Knicks beat Miami to move into round two of the NBA playoffs (I'm very pleased) and Arsenal beat Everton to win UK's Premier Division (Wes is very pleased) and we had a fantastic show last night at the quite elegant Aladdin Theater (we were all pleased). Based on two days in the last two years I think I"m in love with this city. I'm sure that bad things happen in Portland (they tell me it rains quite a bit but I've never seen it) but if I never come back here again I will have nothing but good impressions of the city. But I will come back

5.02.98: Leaving Seattle

If you are to judge the amount of fun at any gig by how late we stay after the show is finished then last night's gig at the Crocodile Cafe had to be the best of the tour. After a show that was well-attended by an audience that was alternately wild and silent in all the right places we celebrated our mutual satisfaction by closing down the club's bar with various Fastbacks, Young Fresh Fellows and Dinosaur jrs along with other various locals who managed to evade the last-call bums rush that preceeded our exodus by a full two hours. I was particularly pleased, thrilled and honored to be visited by Chris and Carla of the Walkabouts, a band that made "Devil's Road," one of my favorite albums of the last ten years (if you don't own this album yet, walk don't run to your favorite record store and pick up a copy). They further made my night by letting me know that they will be recording my song "The Mask of Shame" for an upcoming recording project. Good show? Friendly club? One of my favorite bands recording one my songs? No wonder I celebrated all night.

5.01.98: Somewhere in Oregon

It's an orgy of junk foods, van games, walkman-listening and general tedium as we try to deny the fact that we are on the longest drive of the tour, an 850-mile run from Salt Lake City to Seattle that, even with the hour we will gain somewhere along the way, will put us at our hotel around 3am. We've just finished eating at a restaurant whose name (and even the city) I've already forgotten but I do know that we all ordered various pies (peach, pumpkin, blueberry) that we didn't necessarily want but chose because we needed any excuse to delay the return to the van. I rarely write diary entries on long-drive days off and now I know why. When the highlight of the day is a homemade pie (nothing wrong with that) what else is there to say?

4.30.98: Driving through Utah

I didn't have to look at the US tour schedule to know that yesterday was the 13th show of this journey. Let's take it from the beginning of the day when after realizing that our brake pads had worn to almost nothing, Robert and Wes had to get up early to get them replaced (despite the almost over-riding logic that we wouldn't actually have to STOP much on the 500 mile drive to Salt Lake City). I thank them not only for sparing me the effort to get up early but also for the stories they brought back from the brake shop. It seems that after returning from breakfast and book-shopping Wes asked Buddy from T&T Brakes how the job was coming along and Buddy flashed a slightly severed and bloodied index finger and responded "Not so good." It seems that Buddy lost the tip of said finger in the line of duty but nonetheless retained his humor, thoroughly repaired our van and even through in a free alignment job as well. Here's to you, Buddy. May the end of your finger rest in peace.
Well, with the late start we had to phone Spanky's, our club in Salt Lake City and let them know that we would arrive late for the show. Skipping meals, snacks and most temptations to make world-linking phone calls we managed to arrive at the club at 9:30pm (for a 10pm) show only to be told that the club had already turned away most of the audience that would have come for the night's show. "Didn't you get our message?" we asked. "Oh, we never check messages here," was the response and I used the excuse to adjourn to the motel to squeeze out the remnants of my cold while the others remained to serenade the five fans who didn't believe the club's cancellation story and (so I heard) sat cross-legged on the floor, playing semi-acoustic versions of Wes' (and a few of my) songs. I enjoyed my night off, watched the end of the Houston/Utah basketball game, all of "Breakdown" and pondered whether it would be best to treat tours like elevators, avoiding the number "13" whenever possible.

4.29.98: Somewhere in Wyoming

Have you ever driven across Wyoming. I have been on this stretch of Interstate 80 many times and I can tell you that there is a whole lot of nothing across this very wide state and it is a reminder of how large and spread-out this America place can be, something I forget so easily in New York City. As the Byrds' "Mr Tambourine Man" accompanies the great expanse, Wes pointed out that it felt like we were in a movie (Wim Wenders, maybe?) and Linda wondered if her role would be as the bratty teenager which, of course, would just be too much typecasting. Now things have slowed down, the Byrds have moved on to their country period, Linda sews (my one black jacket has become quite shredded as of late), Kirk drives, Kurt is taking in as much of his first glimpse of Wyoming as possible, Robert recounts stories from McCabe's, a fine club in LA where we all have played and Wes and I just type and type and type.
Last night continued our string of late-added shows and I was sad but not surprised that my first show at Boulder's Fox Theater was badly attended (it was only booked last week). The Fox Theater is a beautiful venue in a beautiful city and both are populated by very nice, calm people. What's more, the club served a mean Carne Asada burrito. We had a surprise visit from Dorte, the girlfriend of website king Thomas Mejer Hansen (they are both in America right now for a period of studying) and she saw a relaxed, request- filled ("Blue Drifter," "Side I'll Never Show," "Halloween" and our second attempt of "Ghosts" this year) evening which featured my illness-shredded voice that fell somewhere between Bob Dylan circa 1988 (NOT his best period) and Joe Cocker A nice voice to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.

4.28.98: Leaving Omaha

--"I think it's incredible that you would name an entire state after a Bruce Springsteen song," said Wes from the stage of the Saddle Creek Bar in Omaha last night. It was the first time that any of us had played a show in this most-definitely middle of American states and with only a week to promote the late-added show and a marquee that listed us right alongside "1 cent shots" and a band called "12-Step Darwin," the prospects were not looking. "I'm worried; no chicken wire in front of the stage," one of our troups noted (can't remember which one) and I was thinking about brushing up on my repetoire of songs by BTO. Well, as someone once said, it just goes to show how wrong you can be. The show was certainly not crowded but those that made it out showered us with warmth and enthusiasm and cheered us to one of the more fun shows of the tour, an evolving, rotating variety show that found Wes and I playing songs we rarely attempt (I played the Syndicate's "Someplace Better Than This" with Robert Lloyd for the first time in almost ten years) and our efforts were rewarded with a take-home package of the club's finest supper specialties including a round of "Cheese Poppers," a deep-fried grilled cheese sandwich that will probably stay with all of us as long as the memory of a fine evening.

4.27.98: Minneapolis

Hometown gigs are always an event and with the geographical diversity of this touring entourage, we have many chances to milk the local connection. Birthdays on the road are even more of an event and last night we had both activities in the same night with a show in the hometown of one Linda Pitmon on the birthday of another Robert Lloyd. I would like to say that this great synchronicity of events led to the wildest, most story-filled night of the tour but the combination of a Sunday night, a somewhat sedate club and a 1 a.m. bar closing time dulled the prospects though we did have a chance to serenade Linda's parents and brother and the audience in turn was able to serenade Robert with a rousing (their finest performance of the night, I thought) performance of "Happy Birthday to You" before we brought Mr. Lloyd down the road for an evening ending White Russian. Certainly none of this would make into an auxiliary verse of Grand Funk Railroad's "We're An American Band" but there are still four weeks to go and pacing is everything

4.26.98: Leaving Chicago

NOW we're talking. Last night's show was much more satisfying for all of us, stronger connections with the audience and fewer back-bar chatters setting the tone for the evening. We responded with spontaneity, intensity, giddiness and just enough sloppiness to keep that edge very much in sight. I had a ball and am now very sad to be leaving Chicago, a city with many friends (lotsa time spent with pals from Eleventh Dream Day/Freakwater and the Drovers), good food and frenzied fans. I was tempted repeatedly to announce Robert's impending birthday (it's today) from the stage but finally decided to keep my mouth shut (for which he thanked me later) and instead left all of my mischieviousness to a fine, semi-rehearsed hoedown version of "Kerosene Man" with the birthday boy playing a mean accordian solo. And now we look at a week of long drives as we move from the Mississippi to the Pacific. keep that coffee coming and keep reading these pages.

4.25.98: Chicago

Oh, I just love two-night stands. Due to the combination of my and Wes' popularity here in the windy city (good radio, good club scene, ardent fans) we are able to play two evenings at Martyr's, a new club for me and whose motif seems to be based around murals of Famous Dead Rock Stars (Wes really wants to buy the Jim Croce table). It's a great feeling to finish the show with the equipment in place just waiting to be played again one night later and with a full day to explore and/or relax on the second day. Me, I'll be sending this transmission into the phone line, getting a quick cup of coffee and spending the day with my friends Rich and Janet from Eleventh Dream Day/Freakwater in their lovely garden. You just can't do these things with a 400 mile drive ahead of you.
Last night's show was a bit puzzling as I felt everything was right in the air for a wilder rock show than what we have been playing on this tour and I was proved to be quite wrong. Someone likened me to San Francisco quarterback Steve Young (bear with me on this one) in my tendencies to read the audience and change the game plan in mid-action. Well, sports fans, last night I think I would have been sacked several times and gone on the disabled list for a few games as decently frenzied moments such as "Melting in the Dark," "That's What You Always Say" and "the Medicine Show" fell on unreceptive ears who were more excited to hear pop numbers like "Tuesday" and "In Love With Everyone." Nothing wrong with that and I am armed with a hummable tune or two but this tendency didn't occur to me until I was back in the huddle, er, backstage with the final seconds having fully ticked out (okay, enough with the football analogy). Still, I had a great time talking with many fans like Ben, Melissa, Matt, Bruce, Dan and a few others who seemed very happy. Me? I just take 'em one game at a time.

4.24.98: Ann Arbor

From the city that gave you Iggy and the Stooges and all of their raw power I'm here to tell you that we played our most mellow, most quiet set of the entire tour. Of course this wasn't by design or some kind of supreme display of irony but rather a quick reaction to the realities of Ann Arbor's Gypsy Cafe, a room and sound system designed for Robin and not James Williamson (ask your record collector friends if you don't get the reference). Rather than panicking (though after 80 shows of finely tuning this wonderful rock quartet a definite re-think was in order) we merely added the sweet tones of Robert's mandolin and accordian, stashed the Telecaster in the corner, turned down the amps and became the SWQNFR (Steve Wynn Quintet New Folk Revue) and won over the seated locals with the following:
THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES (acoustic) - SILVER LINING (acoustic) - COLLISION COURSE (me and Robert) - CARRY A TORCH - BURN - THIS DEADLY GAME - TUESDAY - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE - CAROLYN

Virtually no angst, pain or misery in sight which makes perfect sense after a joyous afternoon off in which each of us found the things that make us happy (vintage clothing stores, record shops, guitar pedals, vegan food--you can make the connections, I'm sure) and we are now ready to turn up the volume once again and settle in for a weekend in Chicago.

4.22.98: Rochester

Just left the Bob Evans restaurant on the outskirts of Rochester, bellies filled with waffles, home fries, eggs, biscuits and gravy and our minds filled with the bits of info drawn from cursory glances at USA Today, all of this on the heels of watching (accidentally, I swear) an episode of Jerry Springer (US shock talk show for all of the euroreaders) and I believe our minds will all turn to a country gravy colored mush by the end of this tour. Our instant-gratification-junk brains are being slightly soothed right now by the whimsical Incredible String Band record that Wes is playing from the front seat and I take refuge in this very laptop computer.
Last night's show was big fun and a fine closing chapter in the first six-day run of this tour. The variety-show aspect of the tour is taking shape and I'm hearing the same kind of "best-show-I've-ever-seen" type comments that I thought I would never hear in the jaded US of A (hey, EVERYBODY'S watching Jerry Springer over here, right?) and the patriot tour of the expatriate is coming along just fine. Robert played the whole set with us including a version of "Older" which already has the makings of a set highlight.

4.21.98: Burlington

The Vermont chapter of the Linda Pitmon fan club came out last night in the form of her brother Steve (with wife Tammy) and her future brother-in-law Mark (with son Jay) and with all of their friends in tow the largest applause of the night was easily the drummer-introduction portion of the show (nothing new, really). I was happy to leave her in the role of social director as I snuck into the bar next door to watch the final inning of a thrilling Atlanta/Colorado baseball game, a welcome chance to exhibit rare antisocial behavior. During the set I recalled that the only other time I played in Burlington was in 1993 when I opened for the Black Crowes, a pretty different experience than sharing a stage with Wes (though I'd imagine that Wes and Chris Robinson have a very similar record collection). And as far as I can tell, no members of Phish were at either show

4.20.98: The road to Burlington

You just have to figure that the combination of a Sunday night, incessant rains and a city where each of us had either never played or had always done badly would probably end our string of well-attended shows and, true to that forecast, there was most definitely plenty of room to move around at last night's show at Valentine's in Albany. Nonetheless, the show was quite fun, the audience had a great time, Sonny Ochs (sister of the late Phil) was there and graced us with her presence and stories over a pizza dinner AND I read two of the finest bits of graffiti of the tour in the club's men's room:
"Hollywood is a FAG"
"Walrus booty is a thing of beauty."

And, with that, I have no doubts that we are indeed back on tour in America once again. I can see from the back seat of the van that Wes is directing us to a diner for breakfast. That will have to be all for today.

4.19.98: Leaving Boston

Another of my ever-growing "home" clubs (along with those in New York, Rome, Copenhagen, Arhus and other places I play on an annual basis) is TT the Bear's in Boston and due to my 'borrowing' of seemingly half of the Boston scene (Come, Rich Gilbert, Kirk Swan, Fort Apache Studios) over the last few years I feel that Boston is as much a home as any of the above. Sure enough, last night was a great time with old friends, a great turn-out and good music throughout. Just as in Europe, the combination of myself, Wes and the super-tight Quartet (which includes me, I guess so I shouldn't be redundant) along with Robert makes for a very entertaining, ever-evolving show that does it's best to hide the fact that it's almost as long as 'Titanic' (but with better lines, I hope). I was in a particularly good mood as Amy Mehaffey (former wife of Syndicate drummer D. Duck) came out from her home in Northampton armed with good cheer, big hugs and fantastic Mexican food from Cha Cha Cha, where she works and helps to concoct hybrids of Mexican, Thai and American food in unique and mouth-watering ways. Okay, commercial over. The highlight of an enjoyable night was a version of "Carelessly" with Robert adding the fine organ hook (on the SAME organ) that he employed on the recorded version.

4.17.98: Driving back to New York City

Ah, the return to American fast food road breaks. Today we were challenged by the often-barren off-ramps of the East Coast's Highway 95 and after one hour of drooling over breakfast possibilities that just wouldn't arrive we were finally faced with a choice between McDonald's and Wendy's, certainly a disappointment after dreams of a Denny's-ish offering of two-eggs-over-medium-hash-browns-not-too-crisp-rye-toast-butter-on-the- side-coffee-black-don't-forget-the-tobasco-sauce (I've got this down to a science) but better than gnawing off the flesh from our own arms. Wes opted for the McDonald's as he is involved in some kind of Monopoly game that will eventually win him millions of dollars whereas the rest of us chose the "wow- they're-almost-healthy" baked potato options of Wendy's. Sufficient as long as none of remember that only two weeks ago we were all eating at Italian roadside stops filled with the dream snack items of all time. sigh. no problem; i'm proud to be an American and if that means frequenting, championing and thus loving Wendy's, then so be it.
Speaking of 'loving,' we were honored last night at The Birchmere (Alexandria, Virginia) by none other than Tad and Karen Loving, the parents of our hero Ford who told us that Ford came home from the eurotour and promptly fell asleep for 48 hours. sleep? what's that? we were back in the saddle again at this faux-roadhouse type club with friendly faces and good pizza and with that and today's quick dip back into the Big Apple we are most definitely on the road again

4.17.98: Allston, Mass

Another all-night drive. That makes five this year and like crossing your eyes and cracking your knuckles, I'm sure such extreme behavior leads to some kind of long-term damage years later. You know, kind of pleasant and numbing as it happens but very painful the next day. But as we left New York City at 3am (after a very enjoyable and very sold-out show at the Mercury Lounge) I found myself driving the van with Robert Lloyd in the passenger seat and our first chance to hang out and talk and listen to music in some time. So as we passed through Connecticut and watched the sun come up over Hartford and listened to the Walkabouts and "Sticky Fingers," Robert and I made the hours fly by with fascinating chatter and Egg McMuffins. Now it's Saturday at 3pm and I'm trying to bring myself back to reality as I type here in the living room of Leslie Brokaw (sister of Come's Chris) and wonder how I will return my body clock to its normal position. Jet lag without the need for actual airplanes.
The Mercury Lounge show was big fun and a last chance to see friends (Joe M, John A, Brigid P, Freddie P, Katherine C and many more) for a long time. We jacked up the ballad quotient, partially to find a meeting point with the Wes fans and partially to do something different in a club where I play four or five times a year. Not always easy to reconcile my love for languid slow songs with my adrenaline and need to ROCK but this tour is giving me many chances to find how the two can live together. An ongoing education, as life should always be.

4.15.98: Leaving New York

Ten days off have allowed us to clear our geographical palates, Kirk heading to LA to see wife Tammie, dog Sammy and his adopted hometown of Reseda, California, Kurt remaining in Manhattan to do his best impression of Joe Buck from Midnight Cowboy (a movie made long before he was born) and Linda and I unpacked, washed and packed again in the midst of revisiting as many NYC old haunts and pals as the short amount of time and energy would allow. And now? we're back in the American van, our white Ford Wagon and we are joined again by Wes along with his sideman (and formerly MY sideman) Robert Lloyd. I am really happy to be travelling with Robert again as we haven't toured together since the early 90s when we toured together almost constantly. It's a new family, new snacks, new sights and new adventures of which the greatest today was a visit to a gas station in New Jersey, a state that does not allow you to pump your own gas. full service only, pal. And if that's the greatest adventure of this very young tour, you just KNOW that we haven't been gone for long.

4.05.98: The Swiss/German border

It's 10pm and this is the last evening any of us (outside of Barry who splits his time between his flat in London and that of Meike, his sweetie in Berlin) will spend in Europe for at least a few months. It's pitch-black outside the Renault windows and I'm sure if it was daytime I'd be seeing the stunningly beautiful Swiss countryside. But it's not daytime and when the sun does come up we hope to be on the doorstep of the king of all tape-traders Jaap Bos who will graciously take our equipment, give us sandwiches and coffee (do I dare to hope for one last shower?) and send us on to Amsterdam's Schipol Airport where we will begin the teary farewells and the fuzzy descent into America. We're happy. We're going home. We're sad. It's over.
The final 24 hours of the tour have been fantastic. After a HUGELY disappointing last dinner in Parma (a city where every eating establishment EXCEPT the one where we ate is very serious about its food) and a show that was long in energy and catharsis and dotted with friends from other cities we woke up to a plan of a giant, leisurely final lunch and from noon until 3:30pm we dined in the highest ranked Parma restaurant (according to the Michelin guide) and filled our bellies before the final drive which is now well underway.

65 shows. 12 countries. How many songs? I have no idea but I'll guess well over a thousand is a safe bet. It was a great tour and even though many of my tour-worn rock friends thought I was crazy to book such a long journey, we all had a great time, remained friends and are quite looking forward to the US tour that will start in 10 days (look for the daily reports on these pages). Pretty incredible and I will now rewind my brain and do an internal accounting of as many memories as possible before the homemade white wine we received in Trieste takes its effect and allows me to sleep until dawn. Over and out

4.04.98: The road to Parma

And this is it. I can't believe that all of those lines on a piece of paper that represented a 12-week tour has finally transpired into a wealth of memories and one final show to go. I think that all of us are in a bit of shock and the combination of the stored exhaustion that is just now beginning to fully rear it's lazy head and the sadness of knowing this tour is almost over is combining into a mixture of lethargy and nostalgia that's making for a very quiet van ride today. There can be no doubt that all of us are looking forward to the 10 days off before the US tour, time to get some sleep, see loved ones, take care of business and reacquaint ourselves with our native country but at the same time there is a definite sadness that after tonight's show in Parma we will have played our last European show for a while. The word 'festival' is mentioned often and I'm sure we'll be back for a few but there are no confirmations as of yet. But the future is only a distant notion and there is still one more show, one more meal and, heck, one more tour diary entry to go so let's stay in the here and now and see what Parma has in store.

4.03.98: Leaving Trieste

I won't take this sitting down but apparently the people of Italy will. Just a small joke to indicate that every show on this Italian tour (six with two to go) have been seated affairs, something which I don't mind as a change of pace but wouldn't want as a daily occurrence. I find that a standing audience is ready with more give and take in terms of communication of the body and verbal varieties and that it is easy for 300 seated people (such as there were in Trieste last night) have an easier time mistaking the people on stage for two-dimensional figures on a flat movie screen. Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that they were an unreceptive or disappoint audience but I did feel that last night's show was a bit more of a recital, a play than the mutual sway an interactions that are my favorite shows. It didn't help that my beloved Vibroverb amp which has been making sweet music in general since 1962 and to me alone since 1984 is beginning to complain about such a long tour and showing signs of quitting with only two shows to go. I will respond with either a few well-placed whacks tonight or just forego my pet for another less-familiar amp tonight. Either way, it's fine but as Linda and I discussed on the walk back to the hotel (through a gauntlet of Trieste's leading ladies of the night) a malfunctioning bit of equipment can certainly color the evening a deep shade of black. So frustrated was I that I ended up foregoing the dinner scheduled for after the show. I gave up dinner! that's right! Now you know it was a tough night.

4.02.98: Leaving Rome

As we finished the last bites of black squid, orange pasta and white cheese all washed down with red wine (such colorful lives we lead) with Marco and all of our other friends from Big Mama, Ford mentioned that this almost felt like an end-of-tour party. He, of course, knows fully well that there are three shows left and plenty of driving as well but I think I know what he meant. Big Mama's, more than any club in the world (except New York's Mercury Lounge) has become a kind of second home for me, a place where I know all of the staff by name and anecdotes and have many, many stories from each of the approximately 15 shows I have played there. This two-night stand was surely one of the more remarkable as we played 39 songs over two nights without repeating a single selection. Here's last night's rundown:
SOME KINDA ITCH - SILVER LINING - BLACK MAGIC - THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY - DRIZZLE - STARE IT DOWN - NOTHING BUT THE SHELL - JAMES RIVER INCIDENT - THE WAY YOU PUNISH ME - THAT'S THE WAY LOVE IT - LAYER BY LAYER - CARELESSLY - CAROLYN - STILL HOLDING ON TO YOU - SHELLEY'S BLUES PT 2 - BURN - MELTING IN THE DARK - THE BLUE DRIFTER - JOHN COLTRANE STEREO BLUES

Most people I spoke to (the band included) felt that the second night was the better of the two shows but I"ll leave such judgement until I get the tapes in the mail from club owner Marco, a long-time friend who greets you with a bear hug and sends you off with spicy squids. My kind of guy

And so we leave Rome filled with tales of good music, tourism, food and almost everything but sleep, something that would have usually been a big part of a three-day stopover. Still, we can all see the end in sight and a once- insurmountable 12-week tour is looking quite, uh, surmountable as we begin getting pangs of pre-nostalgia leading to the REAL final night blow-out in Parma on Saturday. But first there are shows in Trieste and Fiorli and, as I learned in my sportswriting days, you have to take 'em one at a time.

4.01.98: Rome

When I tell people that we've been on the road for almost 12 weeks and have played 60 shows in 70 days (or whatever it is by now), I get looks of shock, amazement, sympathy or at least threats to call the National Enquirer with my story. Really it's not all that tough. You spend much of your day sitting in the van and waiting for the wonderful two-hour payoff that is the actual show. No, touring is not hard and in fact the hardest thing of all is: TOURISM

that's right, being a tourist is exhausting stuff and if you're wondering why there was no diary entry for yesterday it's because were fulfilling our duties as curious Americans (and one Brit) in this wonderful city that is Rome, walking mile after mile, each step filled with one "oooooh" or a few "aaaaaaah"s as we marvelled in ruins even more ancient than ourselves (sorry, bad joke and actually a holdover from Gutterball days). But such innocent excess has left us all more frazzled than traditional touring excesses and today is moving slowly.

Last night was the first of two nights at Big Mama's where I have played well over 10 times. It's a bit like being home and we eased into a set from which no song will be repeated at tonight's show (we were joking that we were just doing two-sets with a 22-hour break). here are the stats:

CARRY A TORCH - BLOOD FROM A STONE - TUESDAY - EPILOGUE - THIS DEADLY GAME - THIS STRANGE EFFECT - YOUNGER - WHAT WE CALL LOVE - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE - WHY - HOW'S MY LITTLE GIRL (acoustic) - GHOSTS (acoustic) - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT (acoustic) - TEARS WON'T HELP - BONNIE AND CLYDE - THE SIDE I'LL NEVER SHOW - HALLOWEEN - BOSTON
encore:
BLIND WILLIE MCTELL - WHEN YOU SMILE

Good now that I can remember what we played last night I can remember what not to play tonight. but, for now, it's time to put on those Bermuda shorts, grab those cameras and guidebooks and let's see some more of this city

3.30.98: Driving south through Italy

Just stopped off at one of those magnificent Italian roadside food and gas stops and--STOP THE PRESSES!--none of us got any food (well, we had just pigged out only two hours earlier but what does THAT have to do with anything) but Kirk and Linda each bought two wonderful harmonicas (for just 7500 lira=4 dollars) and now I'm having harp envy, wishing that I would have bought one as well. It just means that you'll be hearing the new exciting Italian (via China) harmonica sound on the next Linda and Kirk's records and not on mine. boo hoo.
Today is our last day off of the tour and we will spend most of it driving to Rome with the incentive of a fabulous dinner and a glorious moonlight walk waiting for us when we arrive there at around 8pm. And then it's two night's at Big Mama's where we will absolutely, positively not repeat a single song between the two shows. Not all that much of a challenge since we have 70 songs in our current repetoire but a good gimmick (and incentive to come both nights, hint hint) nonetheless.

Last night was big fun on a night that had all the indications of being a complete loser. Codevilla is in the middle of nowhere (about an hour south of MIlan) and we had so much trouble finding the city that we just figured that the same would be true for everyone else. And we were exhausted after our flight from Athens and all of the activity of the previous days. AND there seemed to be about 10 people in the club at 9pm, only 90 minutes before we were scheduled to play. Add to all that it was Sunday night which is usually the worst night of the week for live music but all of the gloom lifted when we went on stage at 11:30pm to about 150 people pouring enthusiasm and love in our direction and, of course, we volleyed back more of the same. Nothing like applause and love for a shot of adrenaline. and it's LEGAL! AND it's not snuff.

3.29.98: Pavia

And just like that we're back in Italy. Of course on our final morning in Greece the sun came out, the skies turned blue and it felt like summer and it was almost impossible to believe that only days before the weather was so terrible as to cause cancelled planes, power shortages and blown gigs. I'd say it was an illusion but there are more than a few people in Thessaloniki that would say differently. We finished our trip with a last-minute acoustic band show at the Booze club and with acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bass guitar and percussion we played an odd but well-received set that included "Under the Weather," "Bonnie and Clyde," "Baby We All Gotta go Down" and a slowed-down cowboy (via John Lee Hooker) version of "Days of Wine and Roses." In other words, we were messing around and having fun and I think that attitude translated to the audience most of who were at the 'slicker' Rodon show the night before. I'd tell you more but we just got to the hotel for tonight's show and my suitcase (with actual clean clothes) and I have a tearful reunion ahead of us.

3.28.98: Athens

Well, after the last two cliffhanger, nail-biting tour diary entries I'm sure all of you are wondering what finally happened. Did we play? Where? Yeah yeah yeah and I was wondering all of those things as well right up until about 5pm, the time when we usually would have been getting ready to sound check. Sure we had made it to Athens but power was still intermittent all over the city and there was still doubt that the Rodon club, where we were scheduled to play would even be up and running. Even at the late afternoon hour there was still talk of a quick flight to Thessaloniki for an acoustic show, staying in town and playing another venue or even (and how surreal is this one?) staying in town and doing a double bill on Saturday with The Crazy World of Arthur Brown who had just shown up at our hotel and was standing right before me looking as though he would shout out "I AM THE GOD OF HELL FIRE AND I BRING YOU.........FIRE!" any second. I had just come back from a live radio interview/acoustic performance and the station manager was about to drive to the top of a nearby mountain to pour gas into the emergency generator so that the station could stay on the air. Things were getting weirder by the minute and it was almost anticlimactic when we got the world from our promoter Nana that the show at Rodon was on and everything was going to happen as planned. I still doubted that anybody would want to go out to see a show only 24 hours after a hurricane and with more bad weather still threatening but when we came back from an AMAZING dinner there were about 600 people waiting for us to dust off the cobwebs and do that thing we do. And after 100 minutes and 20 songs everyone else were invigorated and ready to take on the Athens all-nightlife head on while Linda and I opted to come back to the hotel and quietly ponder all the insanity that went down in the previous 24 hours. Tonight we will make up for lost shows with a 'secret' show in a small, hip club in the center of Athens and pray that the flights back to Milan tomorrow are a bit smoother than the ones that brought us here.

3.27.98: Athens

Sometime around 7pm last night at Milan's Linate Airport Linda was asleep on the floor near the Alitalia counter, Barry was continuing negotiations with the airline staff, his sweetie Meike was doing her best to hold off jet lag and Kirk and Kurt were engaging in a melancholy investigation of a beautiful sunset while I stood by crushed by the hard realization that I was about to miss my first show since 1986. With the Thessaloniki airport closed due to all of the flights that were diverted due to the hurricane (in Spring!) in Athens, it was clear that all of our desires and energies and scheming were not going to get us to the Milos club where I know that a whole lot of people were waiting for my first show there in two years. With that bitter pill to swallow I began a zombie-like march through the airport in search of the things (newspapers, snacks, etc) that could and did distract me while we waited to see if we would make it to Athens at all for the next night's show. We found out at 8:10 that we would be allowed on the 8:15 flight to Athens where the hurricane had begun to move north and flights were being allowed to land. Suddenly the realization that we would make it Greece AT ALL was enough to make us deleriously happy and do our best to forget that somewhere there was an empty stage with our name on it. It still depresses me to think of it but as we ricochetted and careened through the storm's after- effects and made our way into the Athens airport at midnight we were giddy, delighted and thrilled to be ANYWHERE besides the Milan airport as any kind of progress is good news. Now it is the morning after and, of course, the Athens skies are clear and beautiful and it's hard to believe there was ever any kind of bad weather here, let alone a hurricane and we just wait to cram two shows of energy and frustrations into one big event tonight.

3.26.98: The Tarmac at Brendisi

Welcome to the emotional mood swing rollercoaster that is this tour. Last night we were on stage in Milano, playing to a sold-out, jam-packed, turn-away audience, our bellies filled with various pastas of pesto or squids, steaks, vegetables, grappa and then playing many of our favorite songs (including "Drizzle" for the first time) to a wonderfully appreciative audience, Ford setting a tour-high mark for cds sold, autographs flying in all directions, a final grappa to top off the night and back to the hotel for a very satisfying sleep, the kind that comes easily after such a perfect night.
ah, savor that memory.

Right now I'm experiencing a definite sense of deja vu (see the diary from February 28 if you dare) as we sit on the tarmac in Brendisi (southern Italy, east coast) after our flight from Milano to Athens that would ultimately take us to tonight's show in Thessaloniki was re-routed due to a HURRICANE IN ATHENS (this is Spring for God's sake; we should be in t-shirts and bermuda shorts snapping pictures of the Acropolis, not flying perilously close to various eyes of various hurricanes). And now we are waiting for a refueling before we fly back to (drum roll please)......MILANO. yes, the cruel joke of how long does it take to drive from Bergen to Bergen (10 hours if you were paying attention) is being relived as 'how long is the flight from Milano to Milano' (four hours and counting). Our flight attendant Paolo is happily recounting his recent screening of John Waters' "Hairspray," handing us airline-size cocktail bottles and only slightly diverting us from the possibility of missing tonight's show in one of my favorite cites. The suspense is killing me only slightly lightened by the memory of sitting somewhere in the middle of snow-covered Norway and feeling we would NEVER make the show in Oslo. We did, of course and I can only hope the same for tonight. stay tuned.

3.25.98: Milano

We're in Italy and we're thrilled. Kurt has suddenly gone from shrinking down to skeleton-like proportions from the lack of vegan dining in Spain to eating (by my count) 17 meals in the first 48 hours in this country. He allegedly brought a vegetable-laden cheese-less (what's the point?!) pizza back to his room the other night, placed it on the floor and began simulatneously praying to it and devouring it. This would seem a bit crazy and exaggerated to me until I begin to think about what it would mean to be in a place where I had to concentrate on what I was "allowed to eat" rather than what I "desired to eat," oh horror of horrors.
Me? I miss Spain as the shows were all exciting, the people wonderful and I was able to speak the language and could feel my command of the Spanish language improving day by day. On the other hand, Italy is (as always) fantastic and if the first show in Torino was any indication, we're in for a good tour here. The room was packed (almost 100 turned away), the audience attentive and appreciative (Ford saw a few people in the back crying during some songs; was I THAT out of tune?) and the food? let me tell you about the food. It is no secret that Italy is my favorite country for food, a place where even the gas station stores have better food than most New York City gourmet restaurants and I can't even begin to detail last night's dinner. but I'll try; various pastas, steaks, garlic breads, salmons, fresh vegetables, crepes, apple pies, grappas, wines and espressos all made for a set that matched the love that was sent in our direction. Once again, you give what you get.

3.24.98: Torino

Despite a 22-hour drive from Olviedo (northwest Spain) to Torino (northwest Italy) I had fully intended to either stay awake all night or at least set my alarm for 2am to watch the live Italian telecast of the Academy Awards (it makes sense in any language) and, thus, you can just imagine my horror when I found that the channel designated for the broadcast was SCRAMBLED and that the hotel's attempts to correct this disaster only resulted in the channel disappearing from the television altogether. This horror most certainly made James Cameron's epic seem like a screwball comedy, at least in my book and so I was left with nothing to do but what I should have done all along: get a good night's sleep. And instead of spending four wee hours holding my eyelids opened I crammed my Oscar watching into five CNN minutes of results and highlights and my body most certainly thanks me this morning. And here's the analysis from Torino: well, I am the only person in the world who didn't see 'Titanic' but personally I don't see winning a bunch of technical awards and being applauded for landing a performance by Celine Dion but losing in two key acting categories to be a sweep, per se. No, I was pleased to see that "LA Confidential," "Good Will Hunting" and "As Good As It Gets," three movies that I really liked, all won big awards. and if Robin Williams and Jack Nicholson have become cliches in some people's eyes at least they are very well-crafted and compelling cliches of their own designs. okay that's it from this hotel room (a Best Western today, we all feel blessed). By the way, did you know that "As Good As It Gets" was retitled "Mejor......Impossible" (which means "Better......impossible" for Spain. These are the kinds of insights that almost make up for missing my favorite tv show of the year. Almost.

3.23.98: Somewhere near Montpelier

It's 8am and I just woke up sometime between stepping out of the van and putting five francs into a vending machine to receive some cappucino. It's the third overnight drive of the tour and we're well over halfway to our final destination of Torino. Everybody is feeling a bit more ragged than on the previous all-nighters (except, of course, Iron Man Ford who justs drives and drives and keeps his cool at all times) due to various onsets of sore throats, coughs and sore muscles, all of which should (I'm always the optimist) be healed by the 48 hours we'll have in Torino in which all we'll have to do is sleep, eat wonderful Italian food (a new cuisine!), play a show and search for some kind of coverage of the Academy Awards, not necessarily in that order. Hey that sounds so good that I'm just going to force myself to sleep a little bit more. Wish me luck

3.22.98: Leaving Spain

Let's talk about food. We have just finished a meal that all of us (except Kurt but I'll get to that later) agree was the best meal of the tour and that's most certainly worthy of the whole of today's entry. A few days ago I found that Roberto (Spanish label head honcho and tour promoter) was as much of a food enthusiast as I am and as I told him of my ever-changing FIVE FAVORITE RESTAURANTS IN THE WORLD (Tromsø, Athens, several others), he assured me that he knew several in his region Asturia that would easily crack my list. I told him in my best Spanish something akin to "Bring it on, Jack!" and he made plans for a tour-ending blowout lunch (the BIG meal here in Spain) to take place the day after Saturday night's final show in Olviedo (a very cool, very fun show but, hey, today we're talking food.) So around 2pm today the six of us along with Roberto and our friends Ricky and Esti stepped into this very quaint, middle-of-nowhere, family style restaurant outside of Gijon (I've forgotten the name so you'll just have to ask me someday) for the big feast and I can tell you that it was all that Roberto had predicted it would be, scoring on the following points:
IDEAL CIRCUMSTANCE--This has nothing to do with the restaurant but it is so rare that we have a chance to eat without the clock ticking quickly to show time, limiting the possibility for leisurely dining and, well, plain old gluttony. The only activity ahead today was a 21-hour drive to Italy and that made us all the more committed to taking our time

GREAT SETTING--Most definitely a place that would never be found by any tourist or non-local (well, of course, excluding us and I have no problem belonging to SOME clubs that would have me for a member). We were amongst collectives of families and friends from the area enjoying what seemed to be as special a meal for them as it was for us. All around us waiters poured the local cider in the local style, bottle tipped from way over their heads and the stream dropping to glasses held practically at their knees.

EXOTIC MENU--Hey, even with my improving knowledge of the Spanish language and ever-fastidious attention to all food varieties, I recognized almost nothing on the menu and needed a full briefing from Roberto about each item on the menu. He told me that THE Asturian specialty was Fabada, a large white bean that comes accompanied by various meats or fishes. I chose the former and waited anxiously

GREAT FOOD--After starting with various mysterious cheeses, some that were dipped in honey (a surpising combination that actually worked quite well with some of the more mild, not-so-much-like-dirty-socks varieties) and getting a gentle buzz from a few glasses of the artfully poured cider, we all received the main dishes. Linda had a steak that she claimed was the best she had ever eaten, Kirk delighted in a steak covered in some kind of creamy, cheesy sauce and he seemed quite happy. Ford and I both had the meat fabada that contained various sausages and chorizos as delicious as they were pungent, while Barry went for the seafood version of the dish. All incredible, mostly new to our various palates and topped off with a local take on cheesecake and some strong espresso. I do believe that it moved into many of our Top Ten Restaurants in the World lists (those of us who keep and revise such lists, anyway).

That is, all of except poor Kurt who learned that Spain is not the place for a vegan. The waiters at the restaurant did their best to understand 'vegetarian' and brought our bass player a bowl of fabada and spinach (so far, so good) laden with tons of sausage (I can hear them saying with satisfaction "ah, THIS has vegetables. he'll like it"). I wish Kurt could have shared our enthusiasm but all I could do was to describe and promise all the various pastas and vegetables he will be able to devour in the coming weeks in Italy. For the rest of us, we piled into the van (riding considerably lower to the ground after that meal) completely satisfied and knowing that we would not be contributing too heavily to the mini-markets of the various road stops ahead.

3.21.98: Oviedo

Sitting here in my hotel room at 7pm and listening to "Morning Dew" by Tim Rose and wishing this moment could last forever. The last 24 hours have been a rollercoaster of emotions ranging from a beautiful morning in the opulent but seductive Mallorca to the long and bumpy and surreal and beautiful drive from Madrid to Bilbao and then the elation of 400 people packed into a gorgeous converted church and singing along on our second encore of "When You Smile," only to find us coming down an hour later, walking our bags confusedly through the windy old streets of Bilbao searching for our hotel only to find ourselves in a somewhat infested flophouse where we rested our weary bones for the night. Today was one of those rare and very welcome moments of tourism as we checked out the new Frank Gehry designed Guggenheim Museum, an absolute marvel of architecture before another long drive of back roads to the city where we now are gathering our wits and scrubbing the dirt from our bodies and psyches before going to sound check and finding out what lies ahead for the evening. There. That's it. Sometimes 24 hours just don't have to take that long at all.

3.20.98: Driving to Bilbao

I'm sitting in the back seat of the tiny red van that belongs to Tommy Crimes, our opening band for the Spanish tour. Like Jethro Tull or Pink Floyd, there is no member of the band to match the moniker and I have no idea how they got their name and I won't have a chance to ask right now because their drummer Seve (pronounced SEH-Vee) is up front driving and he and Kirk are blasting a Beatles tape (the quite under-rated "Dr Robert" is playing right now--you know, they weren't all that band really. Kinda like Big Star) which is making the bumpy ride go a bit smoother but halting conversation and giving me no chance to practice my Spanish. I have been getting a lot of practice this week and I think I have elevated to the level where I now sound only slightly like an idiot (savant?) when I attempt to communicate. Last night in Mallorca I was able to make some monologue from the stage where (to cover for the absense of Ford who remained in Madrid) I told the audience that they could "buy a cd from the Englishman at the soundboard. Hey," I told them "you could go and buy a beer and just go ahead and lose it in the bathroom and feel bad tomorrow or you can buy a cd and still have it in the morning and be happy." At least that's what I think I said. In actuality I probably said "My Uncle was purple and drove a tractor for the queen of a small country on Mars." Either way, everyone seemed to enjoy the show and the soundboard resembled the floor of the New York Stock Exchange after the show. Don't know about the beer sales

3.19.98: Mallorca

Well, I could tell you about the wonderful show last night to a packed house at Madrid's Moby Dick club (nice whale motif directly above Linda) or the wild streets of the city following their defeat of Bayen-Munchen in what they tell me was a very important football match. I could tell you about a full day of interviews and radio/tv acoustic performances with good old friends like Paco who had me sign all the albums that I somehow must have missed on the last visit with Gutterball. I could tell you of the extreme and perverse satisfaction in finding an actual Subway Sandwich Chocolate Chip cookie (a personal addiction when at home) or my absolute thrill in not only the timely return of our friend Hammi (see the German portion of the diary) but also his delivery from London of some cds (Tim Rose, Timmy Thomas, the Monks, ELO) that I hadn't been able to find anywhere else. I can tell you that Hammi (who used to live in Madrid) and Kirk and Linda and Ford all went to some wild local disco and I could try to convey their stories that occured whilst I chose to return to the hotel for a much-needed bath and CNN observance. I could tell you all of this and more.
But instead (insert Paul Harvey voice--you Americans will know what I mean and the other readers will just have to ask me someday) I want to tell you about a true American hero. Upon arriving at the Mallorca airport today Kirk found 90,000 pesetas (about $600) on the floor of the baggage area and rather than pocketing the loot and thanking his lucky stars, our favorite guitarist actually tracked down the person who had lost the money and upon satisfactorily making sure that he had found the right man, turned over the money for future BIG BIG BIG karma points. for his efforts Kirk was introduced to the man's wife and baby and was assured that a vacation that could have gone very wrong had suddenly gone very right. One small balance for the tally on Ugly Americans everywhere. And now you know the rest of the story

3.18.98: On the train to Madrid

Sometimes the crazy logistics of this touring life can work out to be very good things indeed and with an important national radio interview in Madrid at 1pm I find myself on this high-speed train from Sevilla to Madrid and free from the big white Renault for one day. The price to pay--leaving the hotel at 7am after getting to sleep at 2am--is a small one for the smooth ride and opportunity for people watching, newspaper reading and, of course, diary writing. Last night's show in a port town near Cadiz (very close to Gibralter and thus as close to Africa as I think I've ever played) was one of those great small-town shows where the previous absense of International Touring Bands (which I guess we are) turns our presence into more of a freak-show exhibition ('come see the authentic American rockers! Step right up!') than the usual cultartist appearance. Thus, the audience was quite varied in age, gender and fashion sense and our brand of music seemed to unite everyone for one night. These are often my favorite types of shows as I feel we are some kind of missionaries for something, if not only ourselves. Nice people, a good response and most certainly a good memory while I attempt to catch a few zzzzz's for the rest of this train trip. Buenas noches!

3.16.98: Sevilla

The consensus is that the sights and cities and people of Spain are wonderful but that touring life can absolutely kill you. Shows tend to begin long after midnight and cities are usually separated by hundreds of miles of narrow, windy, bumpy roads and, thus, sleep is a rare commodity. And with that in mind, I can tell you that yesterday featured a 10-hour drive with amazing sights of houses built into hillsides, coastal splendor and general vistas that had we not known better (and we often don't) could have been placed in any of the last dozen centuries. The view we were not finding was that of the inside of our eyelids and the lack of sleep finally caught up to us last night in Sevilla when we all hit the stage in the largest state of collective exhaustion of the tour. I believe the show was good but it also felt as though I was carrying giant lead weights from all of my limbs and I can honestly say that possibly the most beautiful sight of the day was when we finally got to our hotel rooms with the knowledge that we could sleep as late as we desired with no show the following day. It's most definitely time to recharge some batteries.

3.14.98: Barcelona

Sitting here at the breakfast table of the Antibe Hotel in Barcelona and trying to piece together the details of last night. It's 10:30am and nobody else in the band seems to have made it down here yet and so I guess they're trying to piece themselves together as well. One very important trait of Spanish audiences I seem to have forgotten in the four years since I last played here (has it really been that long? was I crazy?) is that Spanish audiences tend to show up at the last possible minute before the shows begin(keeping with a relaxed and very 'last possible minute' type lifestyle in general). And so when we had finished our dinner at the last possible minute (fifteen minutes before show time--you CAN get a cramp I hear, at least if your show is underwater) and walked in the club at the last possible minute (ten minutes before showtime) and found maybe twenty or thirty people milling about the stage I felt that it was going to be 'one of those nights.' Imagine my surprise (and the refreshing of my memory) to find 300 people greeting us quite enthusiastically when we hit the stage and after five days without playing we went from 0 to 100 miles per hour the moment the band crashed in for the set-opening "When You Smile." All in all a wonderful night and one that was recorded by my friend and Spanish journalism legend Ignacio Julia and which will, along with inteviews and backstage and dinner activity be broadcast on a two-hour special for Barcelona TV. It will be a fine chance to see this band in all of it's glory and to hear my steadily improving Spanish skills in some of it's glory. Life is good and suddenly there is a double-strength double sized cup of espresso in front of me and, well, I think it's time to go

3.13.98: Barcelona

It seems like several forevers since we last played a show (really only five days) and while the time off has been good for the mental, physical and, of course, tourist needs of my various travelling partners, I am most certainly ready to play some music. You know, the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd or whatever it is that they say. Well, I can't complain as last night was a near-perfect first night in Spain. It began with some interviews including the first time I have ever done an interview completely in Spanish (I pleaded with the journalist to remove all grammatical errors and he said that I made almost none). The evening continued with a fine paella and pulpo (octopus) dinner with Barry and then a long walk to The Ramblas, the wild walking street that leads to the port and the statue of Christopher Columbus. Much like my beloved New York City, the Ramblas never sleeps and generally stays at full boil throughout the night. Or so I hear. I chose not to see the day from the wrong side of the night and instead came back to the hotel for a good night's rest. Hey, I've got a show to play tonight

3.12.98: Entering Spain

Well, to be honest, not much has happened since my last entry about 18 hours ago except that we have crossed the border into Spain and I am thrilled and delighted to be entering a country I love so much and one in which I can actually speak the language (the two may be connected, of course). I dream of Paella, anarchic rock and roll bars and nights that stretch into days which blur back again into nights. I figure the next eight days may very well take a full 365 off of my life but that's the chance I"ll take. In the meantime, the van countertop remains strewn with various objects but the one key NEW addition is a fine container of French mustard and as one sandwich after another has been driven to new heights from roadside garbage to fine cuisine (oh, you have to use your imagination) I wonder why I didn't spend such a wise three bucks long ago. Tonight is a night off in Barcelona and should we find our way back from the narrow, windy roads that flank the Ramblas we will make our way to our first show in five days tomorrow night. A show. I remember what that was like. Kinda like a van, but bigger, right? yeah, got it

3.11.98: Somewhere in France

We've been driving south for about eight hours now and I have no idea where we are as I haven't looked out the window in some time. Barry says we'll be stopping soon at our midway point between Paris and Barcelona and I'm happy to believe him. The configuration of our van, featuring bench seats around a central table allows us to look at each other more easily than it does to look at the outside world and so I can tell you that Kirk is reading today's (terrible) jokes from his Newton computer, Barry is deep into what must be the 75th James Ellroy book he's read this tour, Linda is continuing to get the most out of today's Herald Tribune (you can make 20 pages go a LOOOONG way if you want), Kurt is up front listening to his headphones and navigating and Ford, God bless him, just keeps driving and driving. The table is strewn with various chocolate filled cupcakes and cookies along with the case of the Dutch radio tape that my friend Andre gave me in Amsterdam. Lots of stuff by Frank Zappa (who I generally hate but, for some reason, enjoyed today), Captain Beefheart (incredible) and The Byrds, Gram Parsons and Ray Davies. I once wrote a song called "Killing Time" and we are most certainly living that song right now. Dreams of a hotel with CNN, a bathtub and a phone line that will allow me to share all of this with you fill my head at this very minute. and on we go.

3.10.98: Paris

Vicarious thrill day. While the others were enjoying their first day off in recent (or not-so-recent) memory, I was grounded to the hotel conducting a series of interviews. So while the others would list as their highlights hiking to the top of the Sacre Coeur, scaling the Eiffel Tower, beholding the various Monet, Manet and Van Gogh delights at the Musee D'Orsay and strolling down the Champs Elysee, I can say that my highlights were meeting my very cool local publicist Simon (from Media 7), speaking to various journalists, all of whom were very nice and one who even went so far as to say that 'Sweetness and Light' was like a cross between Yo La Tengo and the Pretty Things (wow!), performing live on a wonderful local radio show called Substitute and ending up eating Fajitas at the Chesterfield Cafe, a Hard Rock Cafe-like breeding ground for local Americans and where we will likely play when we return for actual gigs. The format at this club is that you play every night for one week while the club provides accomodations in Paris and thus I know that my huge leap into the tourism pool will arrive in only a matter of time.

3.09.98: Amsterdam

And that's it! The string of 50 shows in 54 days (including 5 in the last 48 hours) ended last night as we hauled our weary, sweaty bodies from the stage of the Paradiso in Amsterdam where we had just played what many of the 'regulars' agreed was our best show of the tour. Hey, I play 'em, I don't rank 'em but I feel pretty good about the show, one that was shorter but condensed into a much more punk rock night of frenzy and fever. We finished the night with the satisfying but self-mutilating "Days of Wine and Roses" and then went onto a night of celebration with many, many friends (too numerous to mention) and it all felt like some kind of end-of-tour party which we all know is far from the truth. but it was the end of the Northern Europe tour and we are now looking at an honest-to-goodness vacation as we spend four days driving the distance from Amsterdam to Paris to Barcelona where we will begin the Southern Europe portion of our tour on Friday. I hope to be doing a lot of sleeping so I will do my best to attatch some electrodes and do the next few diaries as a direct transmission from my dreams. On the other hand, that may be just a touch more than you would want to know. Never mind.

3.08.98: Leaving Belgium

LEAVING BELGIUM--Just came out of our first Holland gas stop of the day and told Linda I could sing something from every cd in the store to which she would point. I did pretty well with Aqua, Oasis, Spice Girls, Chumbawamba, Bryan Adams and Elton John but was finally stumped with Celine Dion (heck, I haven't even seen Titanic) and had to retreat in defeat to the cold drink section for a consoling container of Yogho Yogho, the new favorite drink of the touring party.
Last night was the final of our five shows in Belgium and it was a perfect ending to a wonderful portion of the tour. Our perfect hostess Danielle had laid out all of our favorite pet items (Kindereggs, Herald Tribune AND London Guardian, TWO kinds of potato chips--yes, we're pretty sick), the opening band De Bossen was easily our favorite support band of the tour (the singer Wim attempted with no success to trade one of their records to any member of the audience that could provide a vinyl copy of 'The Days of Wine and Roses') and we came on stage to one of the biggest and most enthusiastic audiences of the tour. After the show, it was a easy-going hang with many friends including superphotographer Guy Kokken (who shot the covers of 'Sweetness and Light,' 'Weasel' and all three Return to Senders) and two of the De Bossens who seemed pleased when I compared them to Redd Kross. Tonight we play Amsterdam and then it's straight down South to warmer weather and later nights. Oh my!

3.07.98: Leaving Brussels

Well, once again I'm up against the restriction of a rapidly dying battery and forced to use my very little amount of time to convey the most possible about the previous 24 hours. Of course, statements like the last one use up a pretty big chunk of that very time. Not to mention the previous sentence. OH, there I did it again. I'll just get on with things. This is most certainly one of the crazier weekends we will have on this tour in which we'll be playing three concerts (Tongres, Amsterdam and Kortrijk), one record store performance (Brussels) and one live-radio broadcast (Amsterdam) in just over 48 hours. that barely leaves time for wonderful meals (pepper steak AGAIN last night; I am a creature of habit), record shopping (the FNAC in Brussels gave us one cd each--I chose a record by a band called Sophia that I heard the other day and quite liked) and sleep (don't even bother). Belgium continues to be a revelation and delight and my longest tour ever of the country (five shows) is also becoming my best. fun shows, wild audiences and even if sleep is nowhere to be found, well, there's always that "sleep when I'm dead" philosophy to fall back on. and with that, the battery dies......."

3.06.98: Rotterdam

Today is a very special day. I could tell you how happy we all were with the rough mix of the taping of the Brussels show or I could relate how last night's show in Rotterdam was just as good even if it wasn't as well documented. i could tell you about seeing old friends like Jaap, Willem, Peter De Jong, Ron Euser, Marcel and others you may know from old tour stories. I could even tell you about the fine Indonesian fish dish I had last night or the Little Feat bootleg (circa 1973) that I found today. all of that is, of course, good but what's standing out on the Top Ten Joys of the Day for all of us right now is that we finally made it to the laundromat and, at this moment, the big white van is carting almost all clean clothes across the border from Holland to Belgium. Very good news though I always dream of being taken apart by border cops (and this rarely happens anymore with the ever- opening Euroborders) when my clothes are at their most filthy and rank. Well, you have to have fantasies and small (but not-too-decadent) ones such as these keep you going during those long mind-drifting van rides.

3.05.98: Brussels

Statisticians and list-makers that Kirk and I can be at times (we both just LOVED Nick Hornby's 'High Fidelity' for at least that reason), we have been tempted to place a chart on the side wall of the van rating each gig in terms of meal, hotel, audience, performance, friendliness of promoter and any other categories worth discussing (KinderEggs backstage?) Well, last night's show in Brussels would rank near the top in all of the above categories. The AB club is one of the best designed clubs I have ever played (sound, sight lines, height of stage, design) and its staff was so friendly and helpful I found myself near-weeping at times. The tears truly started to flow when we ate the sumptuous dinner prepared by the club's cook, tender steaks, hearty vegetables a stunning tomato pesto soup all prepared with her dog at her side (completely normal over here where dogs reign supreme).
and then there was the show.

I'm glad to say that we rose to the occasion, largely due to a sold-out crowd that was determined to perform their role as 'audience' properly for the live recording. They did their job, we did our job and 24 songs later (!) we had the material for a pretty wonderful live album or EP (we'll probably use six songs as bonus tracks on the next single "Silver Lining" which will be released in Spring). Now I sit in this fine hotel room (another chart topper or at least in the top 3) typing this entry with some New Romantic tune on MTV and wishing we could stay here a few more days. sigh.

3.04.98: Liege, Belgium

Well, for all the good intentions and great ideas, you sometimes can't help but to do the wrong thing and with a big sold-out show in Brussels that will be recorded for a future live EP the following night it would have made sense to just play our show in Liege, pack up the gear and head back to the hotel for a good night's sleep. But good ideas and intentions collided head on with Christopher our wacky promoter who, for some reason, reminded me of Harpo Marx and we found ourselves at the bar of the L'Escalier where we had played earlier in the evening and it was 3am before we had finished chatting, sampling the fine local beers and fighting each other to take over the deejay booth. These days I can stare down most late-night temptations but just let me have a chance to play deejay for a few hours and there's no stopping me. Kurt and I battled each other to top one another with selections from Sonic Youth, Yo La Tengo, the Beastie Boys and other 90s faves. Now it's morning and we're impossibly tired and the 'big show' is only hours away but I guess a life of 'doing the right thing' would just get boring eventually and maybe a bit of sleep deprivation is just the thing for top- notch playing. there. I think I"ve rationalized that one just fine. on to the show.

3.03.98: Driving through Belgium

We're here! We're finally here. After 27 consecutive hours of driving from Oslo to Oostende we finally made it to our hotel, the club and finally the fourth in an annual series of shows at the marvelous Manuscript club, a club barely bigger than the average Manhattan apartment and even more crowded. Ford pointed out that after encountering maybe 20 good beers in the first six weeks of the tour, we found at least that many good ones last night, understandable since Belgium has the greatest varieties of beers of any country in the world (or so they tell me) and all of them are good. But worry not, your favorite Quartet is not sliding rapidly into the gutter. Rather we enjoyed an energetic show, had a few sips of various brews and found ourselves in our hotel room where everyone had at least eight hours of sleep leaving us rested and fully freaky and obnoxious today in the van. and though we had enough time for sleep, we are still desperately seeking a laundry facility (except for that smart boy Kirk who got up early to wash his clothes) so don't get TOO close to us when we come to your town, okay?

3.01.98: Bodø

Kurt called his parents last night after the show and told them "If you forgive me for the last five years of my life, I'll forgive you for the first 16" which I thought was a pretty good way to begin's tour diary (especially since he cleared this item for use in the diary, natch). He had just finished playing his first gig in the Arctic Circle, something that not every musician has a chance to do, and he did it in style avoiding any high-altitude, thinning air lack of presense of mind and joining us to play a wonderful Scandinavia-tour ending show in this Northern town.
We began the day by flying two hours straight up from Oslo. Yes, that's right, a two-hour flight NORTH from Oslo. Get it? That's WAY up north and we landed into a world of white, white and more white, snow everywhere and a nice farewell to Winter. We asked our gracious host Knut if there was anything fun to do on a Saturday afternoon in Bodø and he said "No. I think there may be a football game on tv." But he proved himself wrong later on as he took us out for what we all agreed was the best meal of the tour, the five of us (Barry, of course, is is in the house) downing various combinations of reindeer, salmon, potatoes, rice, vegetables, beer, cognac and some other fishes that were as unidentifiable as they were delicious. After that we watched the finals of the Norweigan selection for the Eurovision music contest (I wouldn't hold out any high hopes, guys) and made our way to the gig. A good show to a very gracious audience (hey, they don't get many scruffy American bands up here) followed and the night was capped up by a call from Ford telling us that yes, he made his way to Boras (after endless driving) and yes he had our van and yes it works and yes we'll see him at the Oslo airport today at 2pm. All is good in the world and on we go to Belgium.

3.01.98: Somewhere in Sweden

Are these the times that truly try men's souls? Well, it's not that severe but we are going through the toughest test of any tour: the overnight drive. We began our day in Bodø (Arctic Circle), flew down to Oslo where we met up with Ford and the long-lost white van, suddenly clean and in fine running condition. Various hugs were exchanged (with Ford, not the van) and off we went out of Norway, through Sweden and very soon we will be on a ferry to Copenhagen for a midnight snack at the home of Kirk's friends Steve and Lena before continuing on the next 600 miles through Denmark, Germany, Holland and finally into Oostende, Belgium for tomorrow night's shows. How do six people kill 24 hours? Well, Ford and Barry and Kirk alternately sleep and drive (never at the same time), Kurt continues to listen to his walkman, Linda explores various exotic Swedish bubble gum and I just type and type and type and type. Reading material: Richard Ford, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the Herald Tribune, Mojo, James Ellroy. Tabletop food items: tortilla chips, spicy peanuts, bubble gum, vegetarian soy pate, cheese, tons of break and chocolate chip cookies. That's us. You are here.

3.01.98: In the van

the drive continues and at 3pm on Monday we are just hitting the 24-hour mark, certainly the longest drive I have done in some time. Everybody's holding up well; Kirk took the first nine-hour shift, leaving us in Copenhagen at Steve and Lena's apartment for a very generous meal of spaghetti, wine (not for the drivers), capuccino and a dessert of email access. Steve is a childhood friend of Kirk's from Connecticut and now lives in Copenhagen with his wife Lena in a beautiful apartment near Christiania. Steve's dad was also visiting from the US and told us many late-night stories, one of which seemed to involve Bill Cosby and grappa but I just can't remember it right now. We left at 3am with Barry behind the wheel, driving through hailstorms to bring us to a ferry across into Germany and now Ford is taking the final shift as we cross into Holland and then to Oostende where we will dust off the cobwebs and play the Manuscript, one of my favorite clubs and just barely bigger than this van, all part of the charm, and the claustrophobia will continue in a much more delightful fashion.

2.28.98: Oslo

And how was YOUR day? We began Friday morning by waking up in Bergen at 6am, only three hours after turning in from a wild show the night before. Hardly rock and roll hours (which ones are those exactly?) but a necessary wake-up time to make the treacherous mountain drive between Bergen and Oslo, which consists of 330 miles of windy, not-quite-two-lane roads through mountains that even in the best of weather would prove to be a difficult journey. This was hardly the best of weather and after five hours of driving through snow and ice and hail, the Red Volvo (containing myself, Linda, Kirk and Barry) found that we could make it no further. All roads to Oslo were officially closed, the roads back to Bergen were in the process of shutting down and we had no contact with the other van (containing Ford and Kurt) as we were the lucky holders of the cellular phone and they had little more than a tape deck and some Pixies tapes. We began plotting alternatives that didn't necessitate equipment OR a bass player (acoustic show, tap dancing) or even the dreaded cancellation (which I have done exactly one time in 16 years) and while neither seemed desirable we were living the entertainer's credo of "The show must go on" and finding any way of making it all happen. When finally Barry's mobile phone rang and Ford was on the other line, stuck somewhere about 30 miles down the road, all that was left was to race back to Bergen before the roads closed, hop on a plane to Oslo just in time to make it to the club by 8pm while poor indefatigueable Ford left to make the all-night drive that would bring the rented van and our equipment back to Boras where the broken white Renault (remember that van?) was fixed and waiting. In the meantime, we were rewarded for all of our efforts with the wildest, best- attended and maybe longest show of the tour and as we had a nightcap in our lovely and VERY welcome Oslo hotel room at 3am (what a 24 hours!), we thanked our lucky stars and wondered where such exhausting of ALL of our road karma would leave us in the future.
The miracle set:

BLACK - SILVER LINING - BLACK MAGIC - SHELLEY'S BLUES PT 2 - EPILOGUE - WHY - YOUNGER - THIS DEADLY GAME - WHAT WE CALL LOVE - MERRITTVILLE - THE SIDE I'LL NEVER SHOW - CARRY A TORCH - MELTING IN THE DARK - GRACE - THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY - HALLOWEEN - BOSTON
encore 1:
BONNIE AND CLYDE - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT - CAROLYN
encore 2:
WHEN YOU SMILE - JOHN COLTRANE STEREO BLUES

Somewhere I'm sure there is a tape (or maybe even a bootleg cd) floating around of this set and I guarantee that you've never heard a happier band in your life.

2.26.98: Stavanger, Norway

This is truly one of the most beautiful cities in the world and it's hard for me to type and look out of the window at the same time but I'll do my best and I ask you to please forgive any typos that may follow. AND I'm having a conversation with Linda at the same time. this is not easy but not entirely impossible as I've learned to concentrate on many things at the same time. I had an article translated for me yesterday where I was doing the interview at the same time I was changing strings (the night before in Kristiansand) and the bulk of the interview was about, well, CHANGING STRINGS. Does this fascinate you? Sometimes transparency is the best method of communication. I think I wrote a song about that. Lou Reed's "The Kids" plays in the background and reminds me of a long-ago relationship that mirrored this very song in a horrific way. the ending, thankfully, was a good one but that doesn't change the fact that it's time to stare out the window some more and then check out and move on to Bergen. got all that?

2.25.98: The road to Stavanger

Yes, I missed a day in the tour diary which could lead the most faithful of readers to think the worst. Was there a terrible accident? a breakdown? has steve fallen prey to a snuff relapse? No no no, none of that. I was just lazy. that's all. lazy. That and my daily typing time is during the drive to the next city and I find myself crammed in the back of our rented Volvo, hunching my arms in a very unseemly manner and probably doing some kind of irreversable damage to my limbs. So when you see me in concert the next time and I walk around like a guitar-playing Quasimodo you'll know to blame the Volvo people.
Today we are being driven by one Kirk Swan, Volvo enthusiast. Kirk loves these Swedish cars as much as he loves Bull Terriers, his Mac Newton and fine Western apparel. Why is he so bonkers about these Swedish people movers? "they're just incredibly well designed and very safe. And they just last forever. It's the kind of thing you really can't understand until you own a Volvo. and then you turn into a freak." WELL! That's explains that. I feel like I'm in very good hands today.

Last night we returned to what is known as the "Chitlin' circuit," so named for the rough and ramshackle small-town gigs that you inevitably play in the Southern part of the US when you do, say, about 200 gigs a year. Kristiansand is hardly a small town, in fact it's a major port city for Norway, but the club had that Tuscaloosa, Alabama chicken-wire and long-neck Buds kinda feeling and we responded by a very spontaneous ROCK set with such 'rarities' as "For All I Care," "Bonnie and Clyde," "From a Better Place," "James River Incident," "Nothing But the Shell" and a very impromptu version of Howe Gelb's "Loving Cup" for the nut who kept yelling for Blacky Ranchette. And then there was the set-opening "Silver Lining" which we had played the night before live on Norweigan TV on a show where a local journalist said we looked 'tired.' No shit, Sherlock, what do you expect. Hey, we wake up for about two hours a night and the rest of the time you'd just better avert your eyes.

2.23.98: Leaving Sweden

Well, in the good news/bad news department our big filthy white van broke down yesterday which could have been a disaster of logistics, missed gigs and gloomy waiting by the side of the road but luckily the Renault chose to give up the temporary ghost only 10 miles from our show in Boras and our good friend (and promoter for the night) Anders Ahlback came out like the local cavalry with a car and a van and before we knew it we were up and ready for sound check. Sadly, the van will be under the knife for the next three days but we are now a lean, mean driving machine with a smaller van holding the equipment, Ford and Kurt and the rest of us (Kirk, Linda, Barry and myelf) zipping down the road in this snazzy red Volvo. As CW McCall might have said during the CB craze of the 70s "We got a convoy, good buddy." Still basking in the afterglow of the best hotel I've EVER stayed in: the Grand Hotel in Boras where we luxuriated, rested and made ourselves ready for tonight's big national prime-time tv show in Oslo where we will do our best to deny the physical effects of the birthday weekend blowout bash and try to turn back the clock to a more useful appearance (not necessary for Kurt, I guess, as he wouldn't want to look any younger than the 21 that he is). ah, what a smooth ride

2.22.98: The ferry to Sweden

Well, after building a one-man hype campaign for my birthday, I found all of my efforts to be quite worth the while as it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. First of all, I received email birthday greetings from so many people, many of whom I never met before, and I thank you all. A birthday away from home could be a depressing situation but I didn't feel at all forgotten and the letters help. Then again it doesn't hurt to be celebrating with such good friends, my surrogate family on the road and Barry had arranged for a fantastic dinner (pepper steak, my favorite) down the road from the club in Aalborg, a marzipan (my favorite, again) covered cake after the show, a fun, rocking and often silly show (silly string employed and covering everything by the end) that pleased the locals and thrilled us even more. Being that it was my day (can I milk this all any more?) I decided that we should end with an extra-long, extra anarchic version of "John Coltrane Stereo Blues" that was the musical equivalent of a fruit punch spiked with LSD. ah, for the synthetic pleasures. The night was capped by severing the head of the birthday cake that was presented by your website captain Thomas Mejer Hansen who came to the show with his sweetie Dorte. We were told that the tradition with such a cake is to immediately chop off the head while screaming and we're not ones to break tradition. barbarism was never so much fun.

2.21.98: Copenhagen, Christiania

Or more accurately Christiania where we have returned for a leisurely morning of (variously) dog-watching, burger-eating, leisure- strolling and all of the various fun opportunities one can find in this den of decadence and anarchy. Last night's show in Malmo was an unexpected treat, our biggest turnout of the tour so far, a fun set and an audience that greeted me with a rousing "Happy Birthday To You" as we came on for the second encore. so strange to stand on a stage and watch the audience sing to you, a nice role reversal that never gets boring. My friends Kjell and Mia brought an activity-box of gifts with kinderEggs, yo-yo, music trivia games and other various fun stuff and I have been regaled by wonderful gifts and good tidings from my bandmates including a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans from Linda, just the thing to deny the necessity of sleep for just a few more days. Tonight we will play Aalborg and I will milk the birthday occasion by insisting on a tour highlight meal, some kind of self-indulgent set list (a full night of "Coltrane?" we'll see) and a late-night hotel room dance party with my pals. Kirk and Kurt both took me aside last night during solos to wish me a fine birthday and if you wonder what musicians are saying to each other on stage when you can't see or hear, well that could be a clue.

2.20.98: The road to Malmo

Damn, oh damn damn damn, I committed the unpardonable sin of writing all my other letters before getting into today's tour diary and now my battery level is dropping quickly quickly quickly with so much to say. for one thing, besides all of the fun attractions of the ferry I can tell you that we were all quite happy to return to dry land in Stockholm last night where we combined a good meal with a good show and then had a good night's sleep. could things get any better. we'll find out tonight in Malmo, where we will be after another five or six hours of driving. We find ourselves low on Swedish kroner (no time for currency exchange today) and our last gas stop was kind of pathetic with us all pooling our pockets full of local currency to get a bag of popcorn, some wasa bread and a candy bar. waaaaah, take pity on us. okay okay, you can stop now. Of our travelling crew only Barry and I had been to the beautiful city of Stockholm before but only Ford mustered up the energy for a morning tourist stroll and he seemed pretty delighted with the rewards of his journey. Me, I was delighted with the inside of my eyelids, always a welcome sight at this point in the tour. And with that I will end this letter before the battery does it for me.

2.19.98: The festival cruise ship to Stockholm

Sitting in my cabin and listening to the cheap cheap cheap (39 swedish kroner =4 bucks) girl group compilation cd I bought at a gas station two days ago and trying to make sense of the last 48 hours which have felt very much like one continous day. From the time we woke up at the Apple Motel in Gothenburg Tuesday morning to the time our heads hit the pillow after tonight's Thursday night show in Stockholm we will have travelled on two cruise ship voyages, navigated snowy roads of Finland, wandered through icy streets of Helsinki and played one wild set at that city's Semi-Final club. It was a show filled with the wild and incredibly knowledgeable enthusiasm that is so welcome and always slightly surprising when so far from home (one fan even wished me luck at Scrabble proving a dedication to these very pages) and even gave time for local tourism, one of the tour's better meals (chicken in a hearty sauce and everybody's favorite vegetable BROCCOLI). I really enjoy playing Finland and was chided by the various locals for waiting six years between visits to which I cited distance, travel time and various other lame excuses which barely took into account the cliche "getting there is half the fun" which rings very true when I consider all the advantages this Festival cruise liner has over, for example, a big white Renault van. Eating, drinking, gambling and, of course, DUTY FREE SHOPPING and suddenly I'm wondering "what the heck am I doing here in my ship cabin typing and listening to (I realize now) a TERRIBLE cd" when I could be blowing my remaining Finmarks at the black jack table. Over and out

2.18.98: Almost Helsinki

I had fully intended to write this on the ferry from Stockholm to Turku (Finland), having never written anything on water (other substances, but not water) before. I set my alarm for 6am, giving myself plenty of time for a replenishing four cups of coffee, some aimless duty-free shopping, a gander out the window (ice ice, baby) and then back to my cabin for some quick typing. I really had my time worked out, all except for that hour that we lost in the time change, an hour which I hadn't considered in my planning. And now I'm in the van driving to Helsinki for tonight's show and watching snowbanks pass by my window and wondering if I'm in Finland or Vermont. such are the after-effects of the mini-Vegas that was the Festival ferry that we just left.
Kirk and I were comparing experiences on the most austere ferries (Italy to Greece), the most functional ferries (short puddle-jumpers in Scandinavia) but this cruiser was much closer to a Love Boat experience. Several restaurants with some of the best (if not the best) food I've had yet this tour (pepper steak with a baked potato, thank you), shopping galore and various bars and discos featuring alternately Gloria Gaynor records, Olympic broadcasts and bands playing everything from tangos to "Hotel California." I listened to the latter while nursing a Finlandia vodka martini and quickly losing the equivalent of $20 at the black jack tables. Linda, who usually has better luck than I do at the tables took an additional 10 minutes to lose her chips. Ford pondered over which Band song would be best for a band request (finally settling on "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" which was never played to my knowledge), Barry regaled us with stories of being a wild, decadent deejay in Lake Tahoe in the late 70s, Kurt wrestled with the various complications of being vegan in the great white north and Kirk......well, Kirk managed to decorate the face of a previously boorish and now sleeping local drunk, drawing various designs and facial hair onto his face with a magic marker. We like to call this practice "Pierre-ing" and before you consider our axeman- supreme cruel and unusual, you can consider the gent's pre-snooze behavior and post-incident hilarious recounting reason enough. C'mon on a 12-hour journey across ice and darkness you take the laughs where they come.

And just think, in 24 hours we get back on board and do the whole thing all over again. stay tuned.

2.17.98: The road to Stockholm

When is the band constantly travelling but not in the van? The riddle is not very fascinating but the answer is most definitely "When the band is in Scandinavia" as we hop from ferry to ferry, downing Dramamine and walking through the duty-free section like zombies wondering whether to buy liquers, hair-dryers or M&Ms at slightly reduced prices. Today we are driving to Stockholm for our 12-hour overnight ferry to Finland and if you haven't taken one of these long water trips you just haven't lived. Shopping, dining, drinking, gambling, live music, it's all there. Me, I'll probably choose sleep as I have the inside skinnny that the next few days will include very little of the precious zzzzz's and I live to store slumber like the road camel I truly am.
No show last night. No show tonight. Instead there are ferry picnics, with potato chips, pate, cheese, olives and asparagus (for Kurt), crackers, cookies, red wine and little chocolate bottles with bits of various liquors inside, all while watching Mister Bean with the sound off (the ideal movie for such a situation).

and remember, only five shopping days (email messages make the best gifts) until my 38th birthday, this Saturday (the 21st) in Aalborg. see you there

2.16.98: Leaving Denmark

Wes had to delay his set five minutes last night in Viborg while a fight was broken up on the dancefloor which set a nice tone for our final evening (until April's US tour) with our good friend Mr JW Harding. A night for reminiscing, celebration, sadness and fairly good chinese food before we put our favorite pal onto his train this morning. The melancholy and general exhaustion (and seated Sunday crowd) made for a more subdued set but one that did include our first attempt at "Ghosts" on the current tour. I'd say that "Ghosts" is my favorite song on the new album but a nearly impossible one to do live since it is the collage of sounds on the record that gives it its character and it is so hard to recreate with four or five people. Nonetheless the version was great fun and one fan said it was better than the album. hmmmm, is that a compliment?
And now with more room but fewer jokes and impressions in our Renault van we head for the ferry that will take us to Gothenburg (a night off) and then on to Helsinki for my first Finnish show in almost six years. We'll be spending much of the next two weeks on ferries and I guess I'm glad I didn't have a chance to see 'Titanic' before I left New York.

2.15.98: The road to Viborg

Things are slowing down a little bit around here after the wild nights in Copenhagen and Arhus and, though the show in Odense was plenty fun and appreciated and wild, the city was a bit more relaxing and slow enough to give a chance to recharge a battery or two. Linda experienced chronic technical difficulty, particularly a microphone that was determined to point south, compass-like, to her snare drum and with all the time of repairs I was given a chance to play "Baby We All Gotta Go Down" for the first time of the tour, hardly deterred by the fact that the band had never played nor heard the song before. It was that kind of night and I am constantly reminded that the infrequently played old favorite, filled with errors of spontaneity is so often better than the much-played well-shined set regular, giving the audience a chance to see through the cracks. Leonard Cohen once said "there is a crack in everything; that's how the light gets in." He was so right.
Had a ball yesterday playing an acoustic in-store with Wes yesterday at Scavenger Records in Arhus. This rare record-store concert (I generally hate them; all you have to do is see 'Spinal Tap' to see what a bad idea in-stores can be) was the result of a conversation last year with my friends Hans and 'Sailor John.' Wes and I did the folk duo thing, trading jokes and solos and searching for worthwhile souveneirs from the shop. I picked up the new Peter Case album and Wes walked out with a Terry Allen reissue that I quite covet. He leaves us tomorrow, giving me just enough time to raid his suitcase.

The best news of the last day was how well my guitar recovered after dousing it with beer during a frantic solo in Copenhagen (a slide bottle solo is best done with an empty bottle, I guess) and after shorting out at the end of the set, it had dried out and was ready to go again the next night (an obvious analogy to the guitar's player, if you think about it).

2.14.98: Aarhus

And here we are, LIVE from the central nervous center of the SW Homepage. We are now just about to leave the city limits of Arhus, the town where Thomas Mejer Hansen, the manager, designer and founder of this very site, lives. And since I don't want to disappoint such an important part of the family (and because there were 250 wildly enthusiastic listeners) I wanted to do an extra-special show last night and we delivered some non-regulars like "Bonnie and Clyde," "John Coltrane Stereo Blues" and "Nothing But the Shell" along with the usual favorites. A great night that ended with Wes jumping into the audience in an attempt to teach the local crowd how to slam dance. I don't think it really caught on. We are entering the final two days with Wes on the tour which is really sad and I know we will all miss him until we hook up again for the American tour in April and May.

2.13.98: Copenhagen

If it's the morning after a show at the Loppen Club then I must be exhausted, weary and quite satisfied with the night before. Let's check. Okay, all of the above is true and I'll check my itinerary. Yes, I played Loppen last night and thus all of the above is true. A wild set to one of the biggest crowds of the tour so far and a very late night of jokes and anecdotes left all of us with very little sleep and very good memories. We played the Syndicate's "Black" for the first time last night and the volume and overtones and groove all spun around each other and for a moment the whole room was transformed into the Monterrey Pop Festival. It must have something to do with Loppen's placement smack dab (no pun intended, certainly) in the middle of Christiania, the fabled self-governed commune inside Copenhagen where various contrabands are sold as openly as varieties of cheese in any New York deli. Not that we would have anything to do with such a thing but I would swear there was something in the spaghetti that we were served before the show. there just had to be.

2.12.98: Barely into Denmark

When I was a younger, crazier cultartist on tour we would do overnight drives all the time. Indulge in whatever favorite contraband that would make time fly by and just grit your teeth until it was over. It wasn't so bad and the exhaustion and griminess at the end of it all felt like a badge of courage. These days I rarely inflict such torture on me or my bandmates but with last night's show in Den Haag (Holland) and tonight's in Copenhagen (Denmark) we had no choice but to pack up after the show and hit the road. It is now 10am and we're a few hours from a warm bath and comfortable bed for an afternoon's recuperation in Copenhagen. Ford continues to drive as he has for the last ten hours in a row (amazing, and he's going strong), Barry and Wes are reading German newspapers searching desperately for football scores, Linda, Kurt and Kirk are all sleeping in variously uncomfortable looking positions and I can only hope they don't feel the worse for such pretzel postures tomorrow. Me? I type and type and type and type. and wait.

2.11.98: Den Haag

So what does your favorite cult artist do on his first night off in over a week? Of course, he plays a gig and last night I gave the band the evening off and took on a rowdy pub audience in Haarlem armed only with my acoustic guitar and the eventual help of Wes and Kirk for a solo 'unplugged' (wow, I hate that term) show. Now, I normally love the occasional acoustic show but this audience was so chatty, so inebriated that any hope of the intimate performance went out the window and instead it was a wild hoe-down with acoustic guitars and harmonicas and loud harmonies setting the stage as we played fun versions of "Kerosene Man," "Here On Earth As Well," "Drinking Problem" and several Gutterball songs, none of which I haven't had a chance to play on this tour. Amongst many of our friends and regular Dutch attendees was The Saints' Chris Bailey, one of my favorite songwriters of all time. Holding court in the corner with his Swedish squeeze Elizabeth and the empty wine bottles counting at least three, Chris was the picture of the British Dandy, tossing off witticisms and commentary and serving only to enhance his high standing in my book. He's working on a novel and a new record and I"m sure both will be great. A wonderful evening got even better when a local record store proprietor agreed to open his shop for us (at 1am) and let us go through his racks like the music junkies we are. Kirk, Barry and myself picked up a few items and then it was back for the first good night's sleep in a while and the last for a while as tonight we'll be driving overnight to Copenhagen. Yipes! Let's break out the Chocomel and party all night .

2.10.98: Utrecht

I rarely share the bill with other bands when I tour in Europe, preferring to fill multiple hours with my own variety show but it is nice to mingle socially and creatively with others now and then and after last week's blowout with Rich Hopkins, we are now doing a few shows with Canadian folk/pop cultartist (there ARE other cultartists, of course) Ron Sexsmith and he and his band are not only playing some great music but are great guys as well. what's more, his bass player Bill is more obsessed with computers, modems and email than Kirk and myself PUT TOGETHER. amazing and quite reassuring or possibly merely a glimpse of myself in the future, shivering and twitching as I disconnect phone lines, strip away insulation, connect aligator clips and (this is true) simulate a dial tone by singing the appropriate note into the phone. wow, wouldn't it be just easier to be a junkie? Or to do a lot of snuff?
So it was Ron, Wes and myself filling the wonderful Tivoli club (one of my faves in the universe) in Utrecht last night with the beauty of Ron's music, the charm and humor of Wes' and (last night at least) the frantic, shambolic scary jagged shards of rock that we were spewing across the room. messy, emotional and quite liquid. I meant to follow the set list, I really did but chose instead to add and add and add and test the club's curfew which we met head on in a twisted, sprawling photo finish.

2.09.98: Approaching the Dutch border

Well, that's it. After 24 days and 22 shows we are leaving Germany and getting ready for new experiences in a new country. The final show of the tour in Hamelin was absolutely a great preperation for wilder times ahead with the drunkest audience of the tour. One guy who eventually just passed out on the floor just a few feet in front of me had been sighted in passed-out mode by all of us in various rooms throughout the night. Those who were more vertical were pretty wobbly as well and if the show had taken place in the US, I'm sure there would have been chicken-wire to protect us from flying bottles. The entire trip was made complete at the end of the night when we heard Nena's "99 Luftballoons" at the disco after the show.

2.09.98: Utrecht

And just like that the scenery changes. Schnitzel and Bratwurst turns into Broodjes and Chocomel, d-marks into guilders but some of the show- to-show followers change. In fact, Holland usually leads the tour in actual number of audience members who are on the guest list (i.e. personal friends). Last night there was Nicole from Germany, the De Jong Brothers from Haarlem, Stephen and Geoff all the way from the USA (following us Grateful Dead style for the next six nights), everyone's favorite tape trader Jaap Bos (who brought me a swell Frank Sinatra cd collection; thanks, Jaap, my post-show nights will be more stylish from now on) as well as Wes' friend (and ours) Willem. And then there was the Hansen family of Andre, Marion and their ever- growing children Lars and Anne-Britt. Absolutely a family night and we did our best to reward them with a loving, warm and fairly long set that, I believe, went as follows:

TRANSPARENCY - TEARS WON'T HELP - EPILOGUE - THIS STRANGE EFFECT - THIS DEADLY GAME - NOTHING BUT THE SHELL - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE - CARELESSLY - LAYER BY LAYER - MOTORCYCLE BOY - SILVER LINING - BLACK MAGIC - WHY - THE BLUE DRIFTER - MERRITTVILLE (1st time with this band) - HALLOWEEN - BOSTON - BLOOD FROM A STONE - THE DEVIL IN ME - BLIND WILLIE MCTELL - SWEETNESS AND LIGHT - CAROLYN

and the final two were performed by Wes and myself in the midst of the very appreciative (and familiar) audience due to monitor malfunctions and just general restlessness. A really fun night and one that bodes well for the next few nights in Holland, including two shows with Kirk Swan's personal favorite current singer-songwriter Ron Sexsmith. Stay tuned.

2.08.98: Leaving Bielefield

Linda said it was what you always dream about as a kid and what you imagine being an adult would be like and I can't have put it any better myself. Last night the Kamp in Bielefeld turned over their spacious three-bedroom apartment that was built over the club to us for our evening's lodgings and festivities. The apartment was stocked with a full refrigerator, beer, a CD boombox, large-screen TV and lots of room for all of our friends, including familiar faces like Helmut and Manuela from Franconia (see Erlangen), promoters from Lindenburg, Lichtenfeld, our German agent Christa, Barry's partner/main squeeze/Berlin promoter Meike (we all wear many hats around her) and the Rich Hopkins Band who shared the bill with us for the evening. I hadn't seen Rich (who opened for me in 1990 when he was with the Sidewinders) in a few years and his band included Dave Seger who I knew when he played guitar in Naked Prey. And then there was Mike Davis who not only plays bass with Rich but also was an the bass player for the MC5. Kick out the Jams, uh, brothers and sisters indeed. Well, as you can imagine the night went late, the morning came too early and there were pizza rolls somewhere in between.

2.06.98: Leaving Dresden

Well, the snuff and caffeinated chocolate hangovers have subsided leaving us only with great memories of a really fun show last night. I always have a good time at Dresden's Star Club, a venue of the perfect size (800 capacity), great PA and the most wonderful fans, not the least because they haven't really had much of a chance to become jaded in only eight years since the Wall came down. I was interviewed by a local writer who, as it often happens in such cases, ended up being interviewed by me. He told me of a local punk band from the 80s who ended up being squashed by the Communist Government for lyrical and musical content that didn't jibe with their particular tastes and needs. After the Wall came down they found out that a woman who had been in the band was actually an informant to the government, explaining the inroads to the workings of the band. He told me that the band had since reformed and I asked what happened to the woman and he said "oh, she's still in the band." I was stunned that they would welcome the 'double agent' and he said "well, she said she was sorry and you sometimes just had to do these things." Incredible story and one that is a nice counter to some of the jaded club scenes in America.
Now we're back in the van. Wes and Linda are having their daily KinderToy theater group, moving various pieces of plastic across the table employing squeaky voices and, folks, that's entertainment.

2.05.98: Dresden

DRESDEN--And the non-wild decadence-simulation adventures of our touring party continued today when Wes bought some weird brown budget-priced snuff that is pretty much meant to be dabbed onto the finger and snorted up one's nose, bringing on some kind of minty buzz in the disguise of shooting pain. big fun and before long we were rolling up our deutsch marks and drawing ugly brown lines (hey, it's all legal!) and just having a grand old time taking turns inflicting pain onto our nasal passages and achieving a similar high to an overdose of Wasabi sauce at a sushi restaurant. This combined with the finest new German roadsied product "Scho-ka-Kola" (a dark chocolate infused with TONS of caffeine and encased in a very psychedelic tin container) and we were having one big Belushi of a day. All this and chess and my use of yesterday's purchase of a 30dm ($17) walkman (I tried to make the whole tour without one; silly, really) to listen to some wonderful Neil Young bootlegs provided by my friend Helmut and the seven hour drive to Dresden went by in no time.

2.03.98: Koln

A visit to this Big Media City and all that it contains. Our first brush in some time with the delicious Turkish fast food that Germany has to offer and all of us were in heaven especially Kurt who found many vegan delights amongst the kebabs and schwarmas. I, for one, had no idea that tahini sauce was vegan, having never to have worried about such things but it was good to know nonetheless. But it would be quite shallow to reduce such a great city to junk food and we all know that I would never want to be known as such a superficial person so I will find another joy of this great city....... A GREAT THRIFT STORE THREE DOORS FROM THE CLUB! Linda, of course, was the major consumer buying some obscenely short Leopard-print miniskirt, a green- furred seventies leather coat and some Airwalknikewhatever tennis shoes that will allow her the pedal dexterity for "Wine and Roses". Wes got a brown work shirt, not very flashy but very becoming (hey, I have a future in the fashion journalism business!) and scored a dark blue velvet, big-collared jacket that will nicely replace my 1997 model black sports coat (gotta make them last) that was finally put to rest. the various new items all made their debuts at the show last night.
Ah, the show. Koln is one of those cities (along with, say, New York, London, Los Angeles and a few others) where the media-heavy, jaded, seen-it-all-before audiences follow the guilty-till-proven-innocent judgement patterns of live music. You know the drill; arms folded, polite applause, etc. Not my favorite audience type but the most satisfying to win over which is what we did last night. It took about half the set but I do believe that by the midway point, these cool-as-fuck types had come around to our kind of music and had stopped thinking about how it all fits into a drums-and-bass, house, bjorkishead, remix world and just had a good time. we can be very persuasive and after the second encore all that was left was to pack up the stagecoach, grab one more falafel and hit the road. Our work was done.

2.02.98: Leaving Zurich

Today is our first day off after 13 consecutive nights of playing and there's nothing better for a day off than following an evening that the entire band agrees was the best of the tour. For me, it was a particularlys good day beginning with email access (the little joys of the road), a comfortable drive, beating Wes in Scrabble, the procuring of a Herald Tribune and finally a jam-packed, well-received, great-sounding, extremely well-played set at El Internationale in Zurich. We were all giddy from the close quarters, lack of sleep, good crowd and played a long, fiery, funny set that due to the early hours of the club itself, had us out the door and into the neighboring Italian restaurant by 11pm, dining on easily the best food of the tour. Pastas, pizzas and pepper steaks all cooked to perfection. Ah, the further south you go the better the food. It's that simple.
But now we're heading up north for a night off at our pal Hammi's house where Wes, Hammi and Barry already are after an agressive night of driving filled, I'm sure with talk of football, football football. Here in the van it's nothing but Americans, the quartet and our tour-manager-for-a-day Ford enjoying a surprisingly quiet drive up to the woods.

2.01.98: The road to Zurich

Man it's cold. I mean REAL FRIGGIN' COLD and it's not as though we couldn't have predicted this when we set out for a Winter European Tour but that kind of logic and anticipation can't change the fact that we're all currently unsure that there is actually any sort of appendage below our knees, feet numb and frozen on the floor of the big rolling game arcade that is this van. The game of choice today is chess and Wes has just dispensed with Kurt in two relatively quick games and he's about to take on Linda. We'll see if the game lasts longer than the time it takes to write this entry.
Had a great time in Goppingen last night for many reasons:

1) Our promoters Freddie (wrong spelling but what can i do?) and Rosaria greeted us with warmth, hugs, enthusiasm and wonderful Italian cheeses and breads. Such a greeting always bodes well for a good night

2) the surprise visit from Nicky Cacavas (yeah, yeah the brother of Chris--I wonder if he ever gets tired of being introduced that way.) Nicky, if you remember from previous diaries, was our driver and merchandise salesman on previous tours and lives in Munich with his wife and daughter and any visit from Nicky means lots of laughs and good stories

3) a really fun show that had all the makings of a disaster. After such great hospitality and a great dinner we came back to a very empty venue, always saddest in the face of such nice promoters but by the time I came on stage there was a good crowd and we responded with a long, dynamic and emotional set (hey, I'm reverting back to my rock critic past). our delighted promoters dipped into their stash of champagne for a post-show celebration and I'm hurting a bit today.

The chess game is still going. I'll be damned. Go Linda Go!

1.31.98: The road to Goppingen

The overwhelmingly ecstatic review of our Erlangen show that appeared this morning in the regional newspaper said that I was like a poodle, cared for and loved and pampered by my fans and followers. What a concept! I'm a poodle! I've been called a lot of things but most certainly never been likened to a poodle, not one of my favorite breeds of dog. Nonetheless, I understand the point and yes, I am blessed with the most devoted and wonderful fans (sniff, sniff) and when people ask me if I envy those with platinum records and international fame, I can honestly say that I feel very blessed with my lot in life. I most certainly felt as pampered and poodle-like the last few days by our wonderful hosts Helmut and Manuela who housed us in their stunningly beautiful digs near Erlangen. great food (even carefully prepared vegan treats for our kid Kurt), laundry, a record store on the premises (shopping results to follow) and great conversation and company made the last few days relaxing and replenishing on this stretch in which we are playing 14 shows without a day off. The good treatment helped us to play some of our finest shows including:
HOT RADIO FM--A former East German radio station where we taped a John Peel- like session for future broadcast and did fine versions of "Nothing But the Shell," "Silver Lining," "Sweetness and Light" and "From a Better Place." I smell future b-sides

EWERK IN ERLANGEN--to be honest, it wasn't the liveliest audience but we countered with a very moody, intense set (my favorite kind) and did a version of "405" in which the final dissonant chord lasted, oh, at least four hours

EWERK IN LICHTENFIELS--this show was added at the very last minute so there weren't many people (though those that were there were very enthusiastic) there to hear us play five songs ("Bonnie and Clyde" "From a Better Place" "Nothing But the Shell" "Layer by Layer" and "John Coltrane Stereo Blues") for the first time this tour. Anyone who knows me knows how happy I am that Coltrane is now in the repetoire and that this current lineup completely understands how to get inside the guts of this one.

A highlight of today's record shopping: I picked up an Amon Duul II compilation, Take No Prisoners by Lou Reed and the Lovin' Spoonful soundtrack to "What's Up Tiger Lily" For Wes it was a Motorhead compilation, Van Morrison bootleg, Jim Croce live and a Serge Gainsbourg LP and Carpenters cassette. Kirk picked up Old Ways by Neil Young, Paris 1919 by John Cale, a Bowie bootleg and the third album by Chuck Prophet. For Ford it was Eddie Cleanhead Vinson "Back In Town" and Barry got Neil Young Unplugged, Leo Kottke "Greenhouse" and CCR's "Chronicle's Volume 1." LInda and Kurt are mildly pissed about missing out. what can I say? big thanks again to Helmut and Manuela for being such great hosts

1.30.98: Bamberg

Wow, I felt like one of those terrible tv shows that is cancelled as the ratings begin to drop but my TOUR DIARY looked like it was going to be a thing of the past not due to lack of interest but instead because of a simple crash of the computer. The regretful email from the wonderful Thomas Mejer Hansen was so sad that it only doubled my woe and I began to curse my memory for not holding anything for more than a day after the actual typing. Oh, for a photographic memory. But the sadness lasted only 24 hours as Thomas defied the computer gods and got the whole thing up and running again. tonight when you are all out (as I will most certainly be) I ask you to raise your glasses up high to our friend in Arhus who keeps us all connected and has you in this van right here right now.
and what do you see in this van? Kirk, Wes and Linda are all asleep, Kurt is listening to something or other on the walkman (what does he listen to? I suspecdt nothing and the constant use of the walkman is only to make it easier to hear what we are saying without having to join our inane conversations. but that would just be paranoia. and most certainly wrong.

We are pretty exhausted having spent the entire day at Radio Hot FM in Hot (the former East Germany) taping a John Peel-type session that will be broadcast in March. In addition to a pretty straight version of "Silver Lining," we did "Sweetness and Light" as it might have been done if Yo La Tengo reinterpreted the Velvets' 3rd album as well as two b-sidey tracks from the past "Nothing But the Shell" and "From a Better Place," both of which are under serious reconstruction and may surface on a future album. good stuff and now we're racing to make it to tonight's gig on time. hmmm, maybe I should join the others in their nap activities. over and out.

1.29.98: Heilbronn

By now many of you know that as of January 1 1998, the state of California banned smoking in all bars and clubs. This seems a little extreme and even though I'm a non-smoker, I have a little trouble with such a law. IT'S A BAR, FER CRYINOUTLOUD! Heck, you're gonna go deaf and have a few beers and why not add a little second-hand smoke to the equation while you're at it? But then there are nights like last night at the Red River Bar in Heilbronn where I actually feel like I"m playing from the inside of a cigarette and I'm sure that there was some sign at the door telling patrons 'TWO PACK MINIMUM; Anyone smoking less than 40 cigarettes will not be admitted.' So at this moment while I type this missive from my hotel room the morning after the show, I am pondering the wisdom of burning all of my clothes and my hair while I'm at it. nah, my new winter wardrobe could cost up to, oh, about $75 dollars to replace and I'll have none of that.
But smoke notwithstanding it was quite a show. The room was packed, beers and weinerschnitzel everywhere you looked, and we made more noise than usual (the decibel level rising necessarily to cut through the nicotine hazes). Two weeks into the tour and this band is hitting new peaks nightly which bodes well for the next five months. stay tuned.

1.27.98: Lindenburgh

Well, the one day tour of Austria is over and now it's back to Germany. I'm embarassed to say that Austria still conjures images of the computer that was stolen last year in Innsbruck and, thus, leaves a pretty bad taste in my mouth. But last night's show in Salzburg (my first time in the city) was my favorite show in Austria ever and enough to make me forget police reports and empty computer bags for good. And I even had my first chance to watch CNN which is a very nice comfort measure though the only thing on the news now is the surreal spectacle of a US President talking about 'sexual relations' followed by anylysts trying to determine exactly what constitutes a 'sexual relation.' very weird world in which we live.
The rest of the band and Wes are now playing with Kurt's sewing kit, trying to use needles and thread and a tape measure to simulate heroin pictures to send back home for fear and amusement. uh-oh, and now they're measuring muscles. is it all the snow? or the long drives? or the maniacal feedback and noise that Kirk was pulling from his guitar last night? who knows but lunacy is setting in quite comfortably as we hit the two-week mark on the tour. Lord help us.

1.26.98: Neustatt

Terror struck early this morning when the first sound I heard was Barry telling us that he had "just heard from the hotel manager that there is no hot water in the hotel." Next to coffee (the ABSOLUTE necessity), a morning shower is one of the essential ingredients to every morning on tour, not only to remove the smoke, sweat and grime of a night spent rocking but also as a (hopefully) fierce liquid slap in the face to make up for lack of sleep. Panic subsided when Kurt told me that the hot water was only out in the downstair rooms of the hotel and that his 2nd story room was filled with the stuff and directed me in the direction of my shower fix. This may seem like small stuff to you but the daily routine of constant travel makes each little ritual a very big deal.
But there are daily rituals and there are periodic treats and we just had a good brush with the latter, having just left the record store of Christov, our promoter from last night. I picked up a Pretty Things box set, Miles Davis' "Porgy and Bess," a T-Rex compilation and "The Best of the Equals" (the British ska/pop 60s band that featured Eddy Grant--hard to find at home). Linda got a Can compilation, a Waterson/Carthy compilation and "Parachute" by the Pretty Things (don't be surprised to see a Pretty Things influence on my next record). Kirk bought some film, Wes got a KinderEgg and Kurt got some olives. Our consumer thrills over for the morning, we move on to Austria.

1.25.98: Afschaffenberg

Much like Charlie Brown was fooled time and time again into believing that Lucy Van Pelt would hold that football just long enough for a glorious attempt at the field goal attempt of his life, I am bamboozled repeatedly into thinking each hotel will serve some new item, some unseen morsel at the breakfast buffet. I ignore Kurt when he skips breakfast altogether and later tells me "I bet I can guess what they had" even though he's completely right and not the least clairvoyant as far as I know. Some rolls, some cheese, a few pieces of ham, some mueseli, maybe something as odd as some gelatin encased bits of meat that I believe is called "head cheese." Nothing to complain about, really but maybe not enough to counterbalance those two hours of sleep necessary to beat the 10am removal of the items. Me, I come back almost daily hoping to find a weird hybrid of odd foods that will make for good stories back home and right here on these pages. really, I do it all for you.
This was my first new city of the tour and many new fans and I exchanged first glances with each other last night. You'll be able to share some of these glances in a few days as my friend Thomas Steinbrecher, the king of technology, blue vans, the autobahn and the Grateful Dead took some pix with his digital camera and will place them on this site. And, though a picture may be worth a thousand words, it may not replace a 14-song set list that began with "Still Holding On to You" and raced through "405," "Boston" and our first attempt at "Something to Remember Me By." I broke my first string of the tour, Wes broke his daily average of one, we stayed up late and now I"m the only fool here at this breakfast table. ah, but there's always coffee. Another cup, please.

1.23.98: Munich

Sitting in this Munich hotel room with a slight hangover and good memories of a night that found us dancing at The Keller, a smoke-filled club in the Kunz Park complex until 4am. The entire quartet, Wes, Ford and a bunch of friends were moving and grooving to the likes of The Cure, Violent Femmes, Iggy, Nine Inch Nails and many other favorites until 4am when we went on search for (and found) the perfect Polish Sausage. So much fun and so difficult to convey right here with a fuzzy head and hot coffee waiting downstairs.
The Kunz Park is essentially a shopping mall for nightlife. Some locals took over a VERY large factory in the east part of Munich and turned the various buildings into live venues (there are about five or six), bars (about a dozen) and various restaurants, cinemas, snack bars and whatever else would seem fun after midnight. A great idea that allows for bar hopping without the need for driving or hailing cabs. I'm getting ready to line up investors and open a chain of these mega party complexes across the USA, becoming the Bill Gates of the afterhours.

or maybe I"ll just go get some coffee.

1.23.98: The road to Regensburgh

And even in a two-hour drive we all find time to fit in our various obsessions. Let's see: Both Kirk and I have taken out our email devices and have been reading, clicking, typing and clicking some more. Linda and Wes are creating their daily KinderEgg toy (the ledge of Kindertoys in the van is getting quite cluttered) and have just began some weird Kindertoy road-deathrace game. Kurt just studied the ingredients of the Griesson Soft Cake cookies that I just bought to see if they measure up to vegan standards (they don't--egg being the culprit) and we just finished a bitter game of Scrabble which (ahem) I won, albeit for the first time this tour. Barry is up front studying maps and the Tour Ironman Ford just drives on and on.
I seem to be one of the last holdouts in the Red Bull consumption. Red Bull, for those of you who don't know is a strange European energy drink (caffeine, glucose, some vitamins, crystal meth--just wanted to see if you were paying attention) that has inspired various imitations like Flying Horse and Blaue Sau and taste bad but crank you up for a while. I'm beginning to get curious and think I will give in to the vile stuff tomorrow.

And as everyone nurses their various hangovers, bruises and sore muscles from last night's 80s dance party (did I mention 'Enola Gay' by OMD?), the Kindertoys continue to fly and the hotel just gets closer and closer.

1.21.98: The road to Marburg

The computer is telling me that its battery level is low and that any minute now I will be forced to wean myself from the Mac umbilical cord and return to normal life. But I am devoted to this chronical of the touring life of the Quartet and so I will tell these tales until the screen goes black. tick....tick....tick
Last night's show in Berlin was most certainly a tour highlight. Our biggest crowd of the very young German tour and a very warm reception on a very cold night. Played many favorites, old and new and even through in a snippet of "Heroes" during a break in "Carolyn," a local touch that I momentarily feared would be seen as patronizing but instead was met with applause and even tears from some in attendance (I have to assume the tears were not from offended David Bowie fans). The band and Ford were in a great mood after a day of sightseeing. Wes, Hammi and myself were a bit more somber after a very sobering visit to Wannsee, the sight of the Wannsee conference in 1942 (where the 'Final Solution' was planned). Barry, on the other hand, was completely delighted by the two days he was able to spend with his sweetie Meike (who doubled as the evening's promoter. so few people; so many hats).

set list:

SILVER LINING - GRACE - EPILOGUE - BLACK MAGIC - WHY - THIS DEADLY GAME - SHELLEY'S BLUES PT 2 - THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY - TEARS WON'T HELP - THE BLUE DRIFTER - BURN - BOSTON - THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES

encore:(w/John Wesley Harding):
THE DEVIL IN ME - IN LOVE WITH EVERYONE - BLIND WILLIE MCTELL - CAROLYN/HEROES

2nd encore(acoustic w/Wes)
IF MY LIFE WAS AN OPEN BOOK - WHEN YOU SMILE

And there it is. the signal that I have 30 seconds left. On to Marburg.

1.19.98: The road to Berlin

I know I have played in smaller clubs than the Dreikonigskeller in Frankfurt but I'll be damned if I can remember when or where. Let's just say that the 120 people crammed into the venue made for one of the most packed-in crowds I have ever seen and I was surprised and grateful that all of those people chose to brave such sardine-like conditions for the whole three hours of music. Such diligence was rewarded by our first live attempts at "Shelley's Blues pt 2," "How's My Little Girl" and Gutterball's "Transparency" (hey, if Gutterball's not going to tour anymore--what do we think we are, Steely Dan?--then I'll just have to play a few more of these songs). We've now increased our repetoire to about 50 songs which is a good thing on a 70-city tour and it's increasingly likely that you'll actually get to hear that song that you shout out at the next show you attend.
Wes pointed out during his set last night that the show was the most documented per capita that he had ever seen. video and audio tape recorders abounded, one for every five people I'd say and the club owner kept trying to prevent the 'bootlegging' until I assured him that we both condone and encourage such capturing of the event. Hell, even we can benefit from the illegalities as we are now using an audience tape (MUCH better than board tapes if you ask me) from Hannover as an in-van study aid. but all work and no play will make us at least deaf and maybe worse and so it's time for another Scrabble match as Linda pulled out victory on the final move last night and none of us will tolerate defeat. I see big trouble ahead

1.18.98: The road to Frankfurt

I don't get sick. I never get sick. I have toured for 15 years, take my vitamins, am one tough bastard and I just don't get sick.
I'm sick.

Not debilitating sick, not feverish-help-me-rise-from-my-bed-in-a-Lazarus style sick but sick enough to lose most of my voice and that's bad enough for a lead singer on a tour with almost no days off (that's what happens when you manage your own career and your tour manager is also your agent). Last night's show was once again filled with enthusiastic fans and we rose to the occasion, playing a dark, moody set--certainly no room for pop croonings when you're voice approaches some combination of Louis Armstrong, Tom Waits and, oh, I"d say about late '80s Bob Dylan. I feel much better today and I feel the old pipes returning just when I was beginning to enjoy the craggy tones.

Kirk, Kurt and Ford have just checked out with us after their first night in an ETAP hotel, Germany's hybrid of Motel 6 and the Space Shuttle. A completely pre-fab hotel chain where every room is ALWAYS IDENTICAL with cruise ship beds, completely plastic bathrooms (with useful squeegee for clearing water from the combined shower/toilet area) and ONLY ONE WALL OUTLET (!) which forces one to choose between computer, discman, tv and hairdryer, not easy for the Pitmon/Wynn room at least.

And now it's on to Frankfurt for tonight's show. Wes is travelling with his friend Hamme for the day and we're thinking about using the opportunity of his absense to attempt a more competitive day of Scrabble. Check these pages for the results.

1.17.98: Dortmund

I rarely type these installments from the gig but here we are at sound check with repairs on the bass amp and drum adjustments taking a great deal of time and the snacks backstage are pretty uninspiring and we have yet to check into the hotel and all of our bags are here and.....well, it just seems the right time to do some calming, zen-like typing. On this tour the biggest obsessions are music, food and email (you can pick the order yourself) and we have scintillating conversations throughout the day discussing access numbers, software and phone jacks (what did you expect? sex, drugs and rock and roll?). the rush and zealous searching for a free phone line far exceeds any 'jonesin' for drugs stories that I have ever experienced. But we do love our music and last night's gig at Hannover was great, sweaty and wild with broken strings and unexpected song choices and arrangements. We are hitting a good stride much earlier in the tour than usual and I couldn't be happier as mastering the expected leaves loads of room for the unexpected and that's always my favorite part of the show. Well, it's about an hour to show time and Kirk is no longer holding his Palmtop and instead is eating a Mars bar so I guess I should move on to more immediate concerns.

1.16.98: The road to Hannover

Unless you've been a band on tour with a bunch of musicians you may not know all the joys that can be found at a roadside stop but when every days involves six to eight hours in the van, the 15 minutes looking for weird items in a covenience store is a highlight and important marker in the long day. At this moment, LInda and Wes are putting together their very complex Kinder Egg toys, I'm somehow eating incredible potato chips while typing, Kurt is looking at some very odd, um, adult magazine (fully condoned as he is just barely an adult), Kirk (of course) is working on his Newton computer and we are finding giddy humor (and after only two days on the road) at each of these items. Really, you can forget drugs and alcohol, the best high is sleep deprivation and claustrophibia.
Last night's show was fantastic, maybe my favorite ever in Hamburg. The set list was quickly ignored, allowing for us to play a wide gamut of spontaneous choices, including my first-ever live band version of 'Blind Willie McTell," a song which has been requested so many times that I figured it was time to actually remember the words, largely helped by Wes' co-singing efforts. Spoke to three guys that had driven six hours from Poland to see the show and were going to drive back immediately after to arrive at dawn and go to work. quite flattering. This road is way to bumpy to continue, time to devote all of my concentration to those potato chips.

1.15.98: Sappemerr, Holland

I keep telling everyone around me that this 'sleep' concept is highly over-rated. And to prove the point, we all stayed up last night with Barry and our special guest John Wesley Harding until 3am as we watched a videotape of the Arsenal football match that had taken place earlier in the evening. You just haven't lived until you've watched two UK soccer (we all know that 'footballs' aren't round) teams battle it out to a 0-0 tie over the course of 90 minutes of regulation play and 30 more of overtime. Arsenal, which is most decidedly THE team of Barry and Wes, finally won on a penalty kick which will make for a nice day in the van today.
The first show of the tour went well last night despite two amplifiers and one guitar string all breaking on the evening's second song ("Grace"). No problem as Wes and I jumped into the audience for a mini-set of acoustic songs while the problem was rectified. All in all the evening lasted 3 hours (including Wes' opening set) and put us all happily into the mode of the nightly shows that are now underway. And now, after a breakfast of Nutella, ham and cheese (really, not as bad as it sounds--well, I like it) with our wonderful hosts Jaap and Lia Bos we are off to Berlin.

1.14.98: Amsterdam

Step right up! Step right up! The circus is back in town and it's a long running act this time. I'm sitting here at Amsterdam's Schipol Airport at 1pm on the first day of a tour this will run for the next 12 weeks. With another hour before our agent/tour manager/soundman/ambassador of goodwill Barry Everitt arrives to pick us up in a big white van, I have allowed the rest of our group the opportunity to wander around this beautiful meeting place in search of newspapers, Body Shop paraphenelia, coffee or whatever passes the time in the big airport.
Shall I introduce the cast of characters? but, of course. There is our stellar drummer Linda Pitmon whom you all know by now. The guitarist for this trip is Kirk Swan who toured with me back in 1991 and has also toured with Russ Tolman. The new bass player is Kurt Statham, 21-years old and enjoying his first day ever in Europe. And then there's driver/merch salesman Ford Loving who you may remember from the 1996 US Tour.

Spent a wonderful hour this morning at the airport in Reykjavik in Iceland, changing planes, eating free lox and buying postcards documenting various volcanic eruptions. That, along with the ubiquitous Bjork paraphenelia will have to suffice as my only glimpse into Iceland to date. I hope to return someday.

And still nobody has returned. I can only hope they bring back something for me