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| July 2004 »
We play the Bonnaroo festival toward the end of the last day.
That afternoon, I cycle down the local highway that leads out of Nashville and Chattanooga. As I head out I run into George Porter in the lobby. We played together years ago and it's great to see him; he's doing a set with Maceo Parker.
The show goes fine. I can't quite gauge which songs this audience likes. I thought they'd go for the more upbeat songs exclusively, but some of the wordplay and sentiments in the ballads seems to get an equally positive response.
Trey Anastasio is on after us, the climax of the festival. He's doing 2 sets, one with an orchestra and one with a band. After our set he comes into our trailer followed by a film crew and invites me to collaborate in the future, on the orchestral material.
Unfortunately the sky opens up immediately after our set and we skedaddle before it gets too muddy and the traffic gets insane. So I'll have to hear what he's doing later.
I hook up with a friend from the Tampa Contemporary art joint and we hit a couple of local Atlanta galleries.
At Emory U., there is a show of 50s news photos and, down the middle of one room, Jack Kerouac’s scroll of On The Road, written on one long piece of paper in the 50s - single-spaced typewritten...it goes on and on. Only part of it is unraveled. There are a few corrections, some name cross outs and changes, but not many, adding fuel to the argument that his work was "typing, not writing," as one critic claimed. Displayed like this it resembles some obsessive art piece more than the manuscript of a novel.
The other gallery is called Saltworks and it’s in a piano factory that was converted to an exhibition space and artists' studios. The work is fresh and fun, the wall labels are hilarious. (Hope Hilton’s is written from the future, when she returns to Atlanta and does good works). I like Andrew Ross' pieces involving tree roots that miraculously spell out words, possibly due to the similarity to my Lead Us Not/Young Adam CD cover.
Patti Smith and Band are playing the same night as us. A shame as I'd love to catch their show. Graham goes over and catches the first few songs. He says the band and Patti are almost in silhouette as there are projections of various sorts connected to the songs, almost as if they are providing a score for the visuals. It sounds great, I hope to catch them somewhere or other.
Her band guys come and visit us after our set, too late to catch any of our show. We all chat backstage in a cinder block hallway.
The hottest gig so far. The Georgia Theater, a former movie theater in town, is the prime venue here. The seats have been ripped out and there are 2 or 3 bars squeezed in. The place is packed to the gills; standing room only. It was a hot day to begin with, but the air conditioner in this place is woefully overwhelmed and I head for the stage with some trepidation, wondering if I'll faint or pass out.
I don't, though the air supply is pretty limited. I sweat until pretty much every inch of my clothing is soaked, but my energy holds up. I can barely hold on to my slippery guitar. The string players have fingering problems but we get though it all and feel pretty ecstatic.
During load out, a kid calmly walks away with Fred's bike. A security guy sees him and corals him about a block away and brings him back in a headlock. The cops arrive and Daniel decides not to prosecute; it would be too much hassle.
According to those who saw it, the cops who arrived were really giving this drunken kid a hard time - twisting his arms, handcuffing him, pushing him down on a car and duct taping his legs. The kid began to resist, which may have been a natural survival instinct but in this case it made the cops more determined. In the end, he was brought in not for theft, but for resisting arrest. - which could have been avoided had it been handled in a calmer fashion.
As the night went on I could see lots of drunken college boys (and girls) lurching all over the streets. Many of these are not little guys, either. Even drunk, they'd be a handful, and I could imagine facing a belligerent drunken hulk the cops here would usually take no chances.
The Carnegie Hall show went incredibly well. "Off the hook," said Leigh (first violin). We brought in extra baffling and sound-absorbent panels for the drums and perc and the audio stayed more or less under control.
Malu was impressed, I think. There was an incredible standing ovation after the first encore that went on and on — five minutes, I think (though the NY Post said ten). The whole place was up and dancing by the end - pretty extraordinary, for that place.
We all loved the image of the Carnegie stagehands, who would occasionally appear on stage to place or remove a mic or piece of gear in their perfect suits and ties.
The following day is Malu's birthday. At her request we go see Wicked (the musical) It's a political allegory, and very timely. Both Paul and Mauro had previously performed with the lead, Idina — the green witch who is persecuted by vacuous conniving goodies.
Apparently, she had been hoping for a career as a pop singer and Paul said at one point she was getting support, making records, on the treadmill, but not making money. Something wasn’t clicking. Then she got an offer for a part in Rent but questioned whether or not to take it. She "didn't want to be perceived as an actress," Paul said. "They pay you, right? And it's a musical, you're a singer - what's to think about?"
My niece China is with us and she spots her friend Scarlet (Johansen), who is there with her mom. China introduces us all. I'm totally star-struck again. Afterwards, on the street, Malu pokes holes in the plot — wondering why the scarecrow didn’t get set on fire, why the witch didn’t really melt...
A day off and I meet my daughter for lunch and we spend the afternoon walking around SoHo. I hit a few galleries (we both liked the Jon Kessler show at Deitch) and she goes window-shopping. Coming out of one gallery I see a beautiful woman and her partner walking towards us. As they near I suspect he looks familiar — it's Gavin Rochdale, from the band Bush. He stops and says, "hi," and says he likes my new record. I’m kind of star struck; they both look so handsome, and I feel like Mr. Schlub dad with lovely daughter on his arm. I shake hands and she introduces herself — Gwen (Stefani).
As Malu and I walk on she is super impressed, as am I. Major points for dad. Further up the block Malu says "Dad, I forgot to check out what she was wearing!"
She proudly shows me her drawings from art class — her colored marker ones are maybe the best. And now there is also shading and perspective in the others.
Bush, on a visit to Rome, is scolded by the Pope. I’m sure he was hoping to steal the Catholic support from Kerry, but it seems to have backfired.
Ronald Reagan, the corny actor and U.S. president passed away. He always reminded me of Howdy Doody, if the puppet had aged.
The Carnegie Hall show approaches. I'm nervous both about the sound (it's a very live sounding room), the attendance (it's not sold out yet), and because it’s New York. We've taken precautions for the sonic difficulties of bass and drums in that room, so we might have that area under control. If the audio is still problematic, we can do more of the quiet songs, which we have plenty of, so it may turn out to be an atypical show. I just saw ads in NY Times and Time Out, so maybe the remaining tickets will go soon.
Graham asked me "Why are we playing there if it presents such problems?" Later he says that lots of his friends, when they heard that was where we were playing, simply had to have tickets — which sort of answers the first question.
Malu asks what she and her friends might do for an evening out on the weekend after her birthday. I suggest they check out the band "!!!" (pronounced chk chk chk, I think), but then I realize she and her friends prefer top 40 songs and it might not be an all ages show.
Back in NY, after dropping my bags at home, I meet with Jennifer and Kristin about merch and other stuff. I'm exhausted.
Ran into the guitar player for Lynyrd Skynyrd in the hotel's lime green hallway. It was about 9:30 a.m. I was in running gear and he was heading for their bus, wearing wraparound shades with silver rims. I said good morning, not knowing who he was, but he introduced himself and we chatted a bit. I was kind of thrilled. It was as unlikely meeting as one could imagine — southern road warrior meets NY nerd, sort of. And they respect one another. Freebird for real.
This hotel has had an über makeover. It looks like a 60s fantasy — all pop art prints, electric orange, green and purple color scheme and white plastic padded walls in the elevator. Behind the receptionist — whose dais is made of glowing plastic blocks, there is a wall with an undulating psychedelic orange spiral. It's a 60s that never was, except in movies and maybe a few over-decorated homes. Now we can relive a decade, but corrected, improved, it's better looking. The past as it should have been.
I ride my bike to the venue in Alexandria...it's a nice ride along the river, leading past the Ronald Reagan Airport and then out into tree-lined residential neighborhoods...where all the shops and gas stations seem to be manned by beautiful Ethiopians.
Here is where the New Crusades gather strength and support. This church seems to be targeting East Africa, Saudi Arabia, and the Brazilian Northeast.
Had dinner with Juana, her family, and Alejandro, her keyboard player. I asked how it was for her abandoning a successful career as a TV comedienne for music.
She said it was horrible. She was very successful. I suspect she was like an Argentine Tracy Ulman - she did characters. But after a while it wasn't fun any more, a treadmill. So she abandoned it, a brave move, and started doing music, but the audiences there demanded the characters she’d created on TV. There seemed to be no way out. No record company was even interested in releasing a record. So the first record was done small, independent (though Gustavo Santoalla produced). But then she heard that Chris Duritas on KCRW was playing two songs off it, and she and her family moved to LA to begin performing (and recording) where she said "at least one person liked my music."
Her husband Frederico advises me that playing the casino in Punta del Este in Uruguay might not be the best idea. I didn't even know we were scheduled to play a casino. He said it might be carnival week (candomblé music, said Alejandro) - Montevideo should not be skipped for a casino on the beach. (I would like to hear some candomblé, the Black mostly carnival music of Uruguay and Argentina.)
The South American dates are all in flux. I have asked that the Brazil venues be changed to more appropriate ones on the advice of a loca. The freight bill is out of control — so high I will lose money — and the other dates seem to change from time to time as well. Hope it gets sorted. It is getting worked out, but in small increments.
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