Our show is in a lovely theater in the old part of town. During the afternoon I decide to cycle around. I go up to a church perched way up on a hill overlooking the old harbor. It's a steep climb, so I'm drenched in sweat when I arrive. The church is not that old, but hanging from the ceiling at various intervals are long wires strung with model boats — sailing ships, little freighters and fishing vessels — and one seaplane model. The virgin here is the protectress of those at sea, so another wall is filled with lots and lots of paintings of ships in distress, some being wrecked and some just being tossed about in terrible weather.
An impressive assembly.
Against all.
(Herald Tribune) A Russian town 500 km from Moscow has twice voted "against all," which is a kind of "none of the above" option that exists on the Russian ballots. The townspeople turned up in high numbers but didn't think very highly of any of the candidates, so they exercised their option to not have any of them.
There was a rematch, and they did the same thing again. One woman said "they've just got to give us better options"
A man said "it's easier to get on the ballot than to get a driver's license."
The candidates were some local "businessmen" and former Communist party apparatchiks.
The economics of touring.
I self-censor my imagination, depending on the specific economic situation. I do not even entertain thoughts of including projections, lighting, mise-en-scène, etc., as part of my touring show when I know there is no budget.
Granted, I know I am going to tour with this 10-piece band — pretty much or else. I sense that I feel this is the way to express and represent what I do now and some other version would just be inaccurate. Luckily, my experience from the last tour tells me that financially this musical situation is possible. Tight sometimes, but possible.
Now, with the prospect of increased income in the North American legs I can conceivably entertain thoughts of an LD [lighting designer] or some visual business. But what? I haven't done anything except costumes for so long that my imagination in that area is atrophied. One thought is to begin the show with a comedy Powerpoint routine.
Economically, my tour is perhaps middle-level. I can afford this fairly large band or decently paid musicians and a crew, though on this leg there is no money for any lighting or stage business. On arena or stadium tours, the band flies, or even has their own chartered plane. Smaller tours are either one bus or a van with the band and a minimal crew driving themselves. We generally leave each theater and board our busses — one for band and one for crew — and then chat, hang out, have a drink, and then some of us watch a movie in the bus lounge and others sleep in their bunks.
I am usually one of the latter. The bunks, 12 of them stacked in two levels, are carpet-lined with little mattresses, a comforter, and a couple of air vents to allow fresh air to enter the claustrophobic capsules. Curtains give some privacy, so, with my earplugs in, I generally sleep pretty soundly (though this past week I've had a hacking chest cough that often wakes me in the middle of the night). There is just enough room in these things to turn on the light above one's head and crook one's neck against a pillow and read, but beyond that there is no room to move. It's a bit of a contortion getting into them, especially when exhausted after a show and a few drinks, but we’re used to it.
This all saves money on hotels, and it allows us some hours in each town before the soundcheck — hours the crew uses to set up. I usually check e-mails, have lunch, and either go for a run or bike ride.
