We got back to Chicago on Sunday, and I was supposed to go back to work today, but I stayed home… there’s a lot of weird shit going on over there right now; it’s turned into a real freakshow over the past few months. I would really like to find another job just as soon as possible. But how can I find one that suits my wayfaring lifestyle? Hmmm. This being-a-24-hour-musician-and-touring-for-a-living stuff is looking more and more tempting by the minute.

So, our trip to France was like the coolest most amazing eye-opening mind-boggling experience ever!! Okay so maybe I’m easily impressed and yes, it was my first trip to Europe but MANOHMANOHMAN I had such a good time. Whoo-hoo!!! How the hell I’m going to type all this, I don’t know.

It was a long flight to Brussels (8-1/2 hours) but the plane was pretty empty and we all had extra seats to stretch out on. They had some kewl new (to me!) video technology happenin’ on the plane — they’d show a map slowly zooming in and out, with a little airplane icon to represent your current position… and they’d flash other information like "kilometers from departure point", "kilometers to destination", airspeed and temperature info, etc. WOW.

I think they ought to take it even further with the technology… like maybe mount a camera on the nose of the plane and let everyone have a joystick and, I dunno, pretend like they’re copilots or something. Everybody should have their own video screen and be able to switch channels, like you can with the music & headphones… there could be games and movies and music videos to choose from, and they could put a live camera feed showing views of both the departure & destination cities. You could sit there and surf the web and order your genuine Swiss army knives right on your own little screen, send little virtual postcards to the folks back home. But I digress…

So me and Ryan and Julie hang out for a while in the Brussels airport and catch a smaller plane to Bordeaux. We landed in the a.m. and figured Braden or somebody would be there to pick us up. Sure enough, there was a guy named Jeff who was there to give us a ride to the club. ‘Cept there was a little problem in that Ryan’s bass guitar (which he’d checked) was missing — he talked to the airline people and found out that it had been sent to Zurich for some reason!! But they promised it would be sent to Bordeaux on the next plane, and even said they’d deliver it to the club later in the afternoon. So we loaded our stuff into Jeff’s car and drove into town.

The club was a funky, punky place called Zoo-Bizarre. A bar/gallery/performance space with the barest of sound equipment set up in a long windowless basement room with a bunch of folding chairs arranged in rows. We met some folks who appeared to be running the place, Valerie and Alex, and were led upstairs to their apartment so we could take showers and relax a little, if we wanted. It was a big loft space, same as any you’d see in Brooklyn or Chicago, and every inch of space was covered with Valerie’s crazy-cool paintings and other artwork. She was nice, she fixed us some bread and cheese, and we had our first taste of wine — we’d be drinking wine every single day from then on!!

It seemed that Braden and the van of boxheads (heheh) hadn’t arrived yet, so we had some time to kill before soundcheck. We met Fabrize ("Fab"), the guy who would be our road manager, I guess you’d say, for the rest of the week… he was nice and he *sort of* knew English, but he seemed very worried that he hadn’t heard from Braden yet. He told us that the Tindersticks were playing at another venue later that night and that we should try to do an early show, since most people would want to leave to go see the T-sticks.

Meanwhile, we all had to cash some travelers checks, and Julie wanted to get a phone card, so Fab trotted us around to help us run these errands. There was a main street named after Victor Hugo, and all the buildings looked so incredibly old, it was like a movie. I couldn’t stop saying "oh my god! oh my god!" (Julie told me to say "mon dieu!" instead, heheh.) We got back to the club and Braden and the crew still weren’t there so I decided to tag along with Julie while she busked in the streets of Bordeaux with her violin. She only made eight franks but it was fun to walk around while she played, look at the shops, etc. She packed up and we walked around a little, in search of the perfect hair donut.

So we got back to the "Zoobi" and Fab is tearin’ his hair out — it was seven p.m. and the soundcheck was supposed to be at four, and nobody’d heard from the Boxheads, who were driving from a show in Zurich I think. But FINALLY they showed up, much to our relief — omigod!! I am making this WAY too long of a story, I’m never going to finish at this rate!!! Anyway, they pulled up in a big blue passenger van hauling a trailer — Braden King (one of the producers of the Dutch Harbor film), Mike Krassner (who music-directed it), Ken Vandermark (the saxophonist), all of whom I already knew. And two folks I met for the first time right there, Scott Tuma from Souled American, and Dirty Three drummer Jim White.

Everything immediately turned into complete chaos the minute the van pulled up… people started running everywhere, we were hauling equipment down into the basement while some guys are down there trying to get the P.A. working. And it pretty much worked that way the entire night… it was a thrown-together performance in a thrown-together place, I guess, but we had fun with it and luckily for us, plenty of people stayed to watch the film rather than running out to see something else. After the show was over we went back upstairs and were treated to a yummy dinner of calimari in tomato sauce with rice, and more bread, cheese and wine — I guess I’m not a vegetarian anymore, oh well.

Valerie and Alex had a bunch of mattresses and foam thingies, so some of us crashed out there that night, and a few people in the group went across the street to somebody else’s apartment. We all met up in the morning to drive to Nantes. I think I must have slept the entire way… I ended up curling up on the floor of the van most of the time, ‘cuz it was more comfortable that way than trying to sleep sitting up on a tilty seat. (Listen to me, the princess and the fucking pea here!!)

So, we got to Nantes and went to the club, the Olympic — it’s a lot like the Metro in Chicago on the inside, but with a bunch of big round metal sound-baffling devices all over the walls. We had a soundcheck and wandered around the neighborhood a little. We hadn’t had any lunch so me and Ryan went to a little bar/restaurant next door for a sandwich. It was then that I began to realize what a godsend it was that Ryan got to go on this trip with us… I was feeling pretty damn weird and disoriented — couldn’t even buy a pack of cigarettes or order a sandwich on my own — but Ryan’s been to France twice before and he actually knows some basic French. I realized right away that if I just stuck with him, I’d do just fine. I would talk to people, babbling and gesturing, and he’d attempt to translate; it worked out pretty good. :-)

Back at the club, Julie met up with her friend Janine, who lives there in Nantes, and we all started talking about this woman Françoiz Breut. This is kind of a long story, but back in July I got a nice letter and a CD from this woman and her music partner, Dominique A. They live in Nantes and wouldn’t you know they’re popstars over there!! I never got around to writing her back but I had the address saved in my little electronic dealy-bobber. Anyway, we’re standing there at the club and I pull out my thing to look up her address and guess what, sistah lives right across the fuckin’ street!! I was a little nervous to just barge over there, but Julie and Janine egged me on and so we all went over and rang the doorbell. And they were both home, and so we said hi and spoke to them a little in the doorway, made sure they were going to the show, etc. It was so cool and funny — I never dreamed when I got that CD that I’d be marching over to the lady’s house and ringing the doorbell, IN FRANCE!!! haha…

After that, the whole Boxhead crew went to this mysterious house to eat dinner. It was a restaurant down the street from the club but it wasn’t really open to the public exactly… I gather that it was some kind of rehearsal place combined with a restaurant that only serves musicians. Or something like that. Anyway we had a fine family-style dinner, and a big book was passed around, full of photos of previous diners, all musicians, some American and some French. They took our photo too, and then we were off, back to the club to do our show. I don’t even remember much about that night, I was so high on the wine and Frenchness of it all… but I do remember there was a backstage area with some nice stuff in there… bread, cheese and candy, nuts and chocolate, beer and wine, fruit and biscuits, you name it. I mean, those folks really know how to cater, whoo-hoo!!

Oh yeah, that was the night I first tried to, ummm, vocalize with the Boxhead Ensemble, apart from the opening set of my own material. I do believe that was the first time in my whole life that I’ve actually attempted to improvise something live on a stage with other people watching. It was pretty nerve-wracking and I was so damn self-conscious I’d be surprised if even a peep came out. I sure didn’t do anything that made it worth it for them to have me onstage — Braden was taping this whole tour on ADAT and I don’t EVEN want to hear a copy of that show!! But it was just ME being lame; everyone else played great of course. <smile>

We stood around for awhile after the show talking to Françoiz and Dominique, which was real nice, and then loaded up the van and took off to find the hotel, a Holiday Inn of the Garden Court variety. Me and Ryan got a room to ourselves; it was such a relief to finally sleep in a real bed! (I don’t even have a real bed at HOME, just a futon.)

(to be continued…)