Europe Day 12

Touring is lonely. This might seem like a truism of sorts (or perhaps a blatant lie, depending on your perspective), but it's enough of factor in my current reality that it's certainly worth saying. The irony, of course, is that while on tour, I spend my day surrounded by people. From the moment I wake up, to breakfast at the hotel, to the van ride, to load-in, to sound check, to dinner, to the show, to the ride back to the hotel…etc, etc, etc. The thing is, much as I'm in the presence of amazing people, many of whom I consider family, the sometimes grueling process of touring forces even the most gregarious amongst us draw into a shell of sorts. It's a mechanism to cope with the 8 hour drives, the monotonous sound checks, and many of the other less-glamourous aspects of this lifestyle. It's not a bad thing…it just is. The thing about this kind of solitude, however, is that it's very limiting. Loneliness generally allows for some amount of personal space…"normal" loneliness, at the least, allows for you to scream out loud, to pick your nose, to cook a good meal, to call your family, or a whatever else you desire. This shit is different, which doesn't make it better or worse, but it does mean that the loneliness of tour has more rules, and more structure. There's more you can't do to cope, I suppose, but there's also a lot of freedom in that.

I think I had a point in here....

Sitting in the club yesterday in Strasborg, surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of  kids (most of whom were in attendance at the French electro-pop show in the main room adjacent to the smaller stage we played on ), I felt that loneliness very acutely. Hundreds of people, all speaking words that I couldn't understand, and not a soul that I will ever see again. 

There's a special brand of solitude there, but there's also a special brand of incredible. Somehow, the music that I make, the weird sounds and things that start as little ideas in my bedroom in Seattle or Brooklyn, they've brought me to this place…and that's really fucking cool! To stand on a stage, in front of a room full of people that don't understand a word Grieves or I say but are still, somehow, compelled to listen to, and to feel something from, the music that we're making. I feel really lucky. 

Back to Strasborg. Yesterday's drive was among the shortest of the tour. 2 hours from Belfort to the front door of our hotel. We pulled in around 2, and immediately ventured out in search of breakfast/lunch. Not a good idea. We had failed to plan for the mid-day closure that almost every (reputable) French restaurant enjoys, shutting down from about 2 to about 5 every day. It didn't help much that it was beginning to snow rather vigorously and the section of town we were trekking through began to resemble a French version of Pittsburg in its washed-out, post-industrial-wasteland aesthetic. Great. After several failed attempts at gaining entrance to a restaurant, most folks retreated in defeat, leaving BK and I in search of some kind of sustenance. We made it through the door at a small Brasserie, only to be shooed out the door by the proprietor who seemed more than a little defensive about what was clearly some sort of illegal gambling facility she was running in the front room of the establishment. Great. Thankfully, we did find a little Patisserie, filled with delicious pastries and sandwiches. Persistence triumphs again.

A 5pm load was relatively painless, and we settled into the backstage area of the venue for the time leading up to the show. This club was, as I mentioned above, comprised of two separate stages, a main room and a "club" stage. A series of hallways, bridges, and hidden staircases linked the backstage rooms to the stages, and while navigating the maze was a bit of a challenge, it was a pretty impressive space all told. It didn't hurt that the place was literally teeming with production staff, all effusively helpful and willing to go out of their way to accommodate us. 

There was a generous cold buffet in the dining room to hold us over until "real" dinner was served, and the food was…once again…nothing short of incredible. Smoked salmon, local cheeses, fresh baguette…imagining treatment like that in the States is almost laughable. 

The opening act had a really elaborate stage set-up, with two laptop musicians/DJs flanked by two massive projector screens. They played for about an hour, and while I wasn't able to catch their entire set, what I did get a chance to see was pretty impressive.

Grieves and I took the stage a little before 10. The crowd was small, but definitely wayyyy more interactive and receptive than the night before. That, combined with a lack of technical difficulties on my part (meaning, of course, that I didn't break a single guitar string), led to a show that felt much better, much more settled, and much more well understood. I will say, however, that French crowds seem uniquely averse to shouting "Burn it Down" during the call and response portion of Gwenevieve…culturally conditioned not to take fire lightly, even in metaphor…

Ali and BK came on right after us, and KILLED it. It's so incredible to see these crowds chanting Ali's lyrics, singing along, and engaging so generously. It's an inspiration to see, and a testament to both the universal impact of his art and the incredible amount of hard work he's put in over the past decade (and beyond). 

I managed to load all of my equipment into the van in record time, but it became immediately clear that the group-at-large was going to take a bit more time with their exit, so I gathered my personal stuff and walked back to the hotel. A 2am bedtime isn't so bad!

I woke up at 7 this morning and took a jog through Strasborg, determined to see a bit of the historic city before we took off. I managed to make my way downtown, the main portion of which is bisected by a beautiful canal. The body of water seemed to be generating its own cloud of fog, wafting into the nearby streets in a very France/German-in the movies-in the 1940s kind of way. Lots of winding streets, old cathedrals, and tiny little restaurants and shops. The streets were super crowded, with much of the population on their way to work, and it was nice to see a city so full of life…though it did make for a bit of a human obstacle course.

Back at the hotel, I took a quick shower and hit the breakfast buffet…which oddly enough included, amongst its cheeses and meats and breads and yogurts, a bottle of champagne. 

At this very moment, we're settled into the middle of an 8 hour drive to Nantes, where Brother Ali and BK-One will be rocking a midnight show as part of a live radio broadcast, and where Grieves and I will enjoy our final free night of the tour. I'm listening to an advance copy of Krukid's new record, Lifelines (y'all have no idea what's about to hit you!), and getting ready to settle into a few episodes of East Bound and Down to pass the time until we arrive!

More tomorrow!