Archive for August, 2013

I Like Records 79

We got a collection in awhile ago, a lot of solid soul titles with some oddities thrown in. The thing that strikes me the most from it is the name of the people who sold the records. Their name is Bland (don’t think they’re any relation to Bobby “Blue” Bland) and they wrote it on the the cover of all their albums. It seems more like a critique of the records:
“yeah, it’s ok. It’s…uh…kind of bland”
“well you better write that on the cover to warn others”

I also like the title "...Country and West" not "Western"

I also like the title “…Country and West” not “Western”

 

I got nothin’/marital advice

It has been about a week since I posted last, and I got nothin’. Except a little bit of marital advice. If you are ever in a mildly heated discussion with your significant other. Something like who’s fault it is that the house is littered with comic books and old albums. And if you know you’re on the wrong side of history, the best thing to do is in mid conversation hold up your hand and in a quiet patronizing tone say “It’s ok, apology accepted” and stand back. There will be a couple of seconds to let the full weight of the idiocy of the statement sink in … and well you can figure out the rest. It’s actually never worked but it does change the direction of the conversation, so there’s that.

Notes From Das Boot 182

Monday, August 19, Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam

Parken fest in Bodo (Norway)was solid. Nice little city and after the loooong ride any place that wasn’t moving would have been ok. Kvelertak had a heavier Turbo Negro thing going on that was really good live and Nick Cave/Bad Seeds were great. Christ, The Bad Seeds are such a great fucking band, delicate and bludgeoning. Then another 12 hour drive back down to Trondheim (also Norway) for Pstereo Festival. A good day, really good catering (the King’s personal chef cooked dinner, or so we were told) and one of the best bands I’ve seen in many a moon, Goat. Tough to describe, but since I’m a record store guy, let me over explain. Kind of like Eno/Byrne-My Life in the Bush of Ghosts played by a supergroup consisting of Fela Kuti’s band and The Heads. On record it’s pretty hot but live its a lot more heavy psych, fantastic stuff. We had a day off on Sunday before we flew, pretty lazy day. I went out for coffee to a hipster looking place, ordered a coffee and pastry. This drunk guy sidled up to me pointed at my tattoos, his tattoos and was jabbering, I told him I didn’t speak Dutch and he said in broken English “look, my tattoo” and pulled down his pants. Down, way passed mid hip and into the danger zone, “no man, that’s cool,nonononononono.”. There was something that looked like birth mark that should be looked at by a doctor but was actually a prison-esque tattoo of the playboy logo. He pulled up his pants, hugged me and was on his way. It was time to go home.

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One of the singers from Goat, other Goats behind her

Notes from Das Boot 181

8/16/13 Bodo,Norway, Parken Fest
We were driving for quite a while and no interweb access, so here’s a few I wrote on the way

8/15/13 still en route on ferry to Norway 12:30am
Calling home costs a lot of money. I buy cheap SIM cards and use them on a cheap phone or I Skype on my iPad . As a last resort, I’ll use my regular phone (as readers of this blog some of you might remember that I have an old cel phone, that’s not very smart. I mentioned it in a post entitled “Satan courts the Duchess” ). So I’m on the ferry and they have Internet access for a a few euros and I thought, it’s a long ferry ride and I’d like to call home and get a needed dose of normalness. So I found a secluded area and I skyped Carrie. It was a terrible connection but I didn’t want to give up, because I really like talking with my wife. Outside of the “I miss you’s” and stuff like that, it’s just something I enjoy doing (Jesus, that reads so fucking dumb but I don’t know any other way to say it). Anyhow it was a train wreck
Carrie: hello…..hello…Tim?
Me: yeah…hey……..hey babe
(I can hear my voice two or three seconds delayed and distorted, so we’re stepping on what the other one is saying)
Carrie:heyyyy….hello?…..hello?
Me: yeah…can you hear me...
-SILENCE-
Carrie/Me (same time)…no..not reallyCan you...I can only hear every other...What..whathey…notno…Can you?
Carrie: Fuck...
So I start walking around, think that I’ll find a sweet spot, and my voice keeps getting louder. So much so that I’m starting to get looks from the other passengers. But I’m not gonna give up
Me: Hey! …..Is this any better!
Carrie: no…I can only hear every other word
Me: IS THIS ANY BETTER !
Carrie: No! You’re loud…but the connection still sucks
Me:fuck it, I’ll call you later
Carrie…what?
Carrie/Mecallcall laterfuckfuck.
-CLICK-

8/15/13, 300km south of Trondheim, Norway 2:30pm
Well, we are only three hours away from being eighteen hours away. It is beautiful up here but ask me again in eight hours and I’m sure I won’t care about the beauty of the back roads of Norway. Sitting in the front lounge is about the most solitary place on the bus outside of the bunks. Somebody is having an A-Team marathon in the back lounge, I can hear the theme music waft thru the bus like an aural stench. Man, I hate the fucking A-Team.

8/15/13 200km north of Trondheim, Norway 10pm
We are on some crazy reindeer path that is doubling as the main road. Fucking hell, is this some rough goddamn driving. We’ve been going for nearly 48 hours. That truckstop hot dog wrapped in bacon I got a few hours ago isn’t sitting well, what a surprise. I hate everything.

8/16/13 5km south of Bodo, Norway 7:30am
Almost here, crossed the arctic circle a couple of hours ago. Even though the ride has been pretty brutal (almost 55 hours) it is amazingly beautiful up here, indescribably so. Blurry photos through a bug splattered windshield don’t do it justice.

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Like I said, this does not do it justice

Notes From Das Boot, 180

8/14/13, somewhere in Denmark-2pm
Long drive after the Heidelberg show, 1,700 miles to Bodo, Norway for the Parken Festival. We also said goodbye to Paco our merch guy who is leaving the tour to get ready for his US tour as guitarist for Scout Niblett. If they play your town, stop by and say hi to Paco and ask him to regale you with bone chilling tales from the land of band merchandise.
8/14/13 on a boat between Denmark and Norway-10:30pm
20 hours into our trip and we’re less than halfway. I was gonna write something about lunch today when the server at a McDonalds knock-off was repeatedly stingy with the ice, but how many fucking times can I point out that Euro’s are cheap with ice (“it’s like they use it as currency“, pow, what a zinger!). I tried to finesse it into something readable. But like a big, dead, unfunny fish it just laid there and stunk, or was it the bus that stinks. It was probably both.

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For all your balloon needs while in Heidelberg, might I suggest Balloon Boutique

Notes From Das Boot, 179

August 12, 2013 / Lucerne, Switzerland

We are playing the Schuur it’s a good mid sized club. The thing that sticks in my head here was the front of house sound and lighting desk are housed in what looks like a flying saucer. Although I remembered it as being much more “I’m doing lights from a goddamned FLYING SAUCER!”, it actually looks like a prop from a high school play.
A final note on our day off. I’ve complained about the heat over before, one of the things that would make it more bearable would be wire/mesh screens for the windows. For our european friends, a window screen lets in air but not flies. Anytime you open a window over here to get a little breeze it’s an open invite for hordes of flies. This is where a screen in the window would work wonders. But nothing, I haven’t seen one screen all tour, I can’t even remember if I’ve ever seen screens over here. The only reason I can think of is that flies are a powerful voting contingent over here in Europe and they’re keeping window screens out of the EU.

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Rene manning the flying saucer

Notes From Das Boot, 178

Sunday, August 11 / Feldkirch, Austria

Day off in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a beautiful middle of nowhere so it’s ok. While having dinner tonight in the beer garden, a waitress tapped me on the shoulder or I thought it was a tap on the shoulder. I turned around to see what she wanted and she was holding a big green bug, “this was on you.” Aaauuuuugghhhhhhhh! I jumped out of my chair, knocking it over, “what the hell is that thing!?”. “Just a bug.” She let it go and it flapped its large leathery wings and flew off obscuring the sun. The other diners stopped staring at my testosterone fueled, manly response and went back to their beer.

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This is the cheapest room at the hotel. The ladder costs extra.