Time Warp

It's odd, coming back after a month on the road. It was odder last time; when I returned in late April from the first tour, I didn't really have a home. I crashed on Eman's couch for five days before finding a place to move in to on the first of May. I then had another sublet in another place for a month, and finally found this place where I'm currently living. So this time, at least, I had my own bed, my computer, and an affectionate cat to return to, as well as a church community that I'm much closer to now than I was back in May.

All that aside . . .

The reality is that touring is like temporarily visiting a different dimension where time is hardly measured at all. You drift from show to show and experience to experience, with sometimes the feeling that events all happened as if they were jumbled on top of one another, although also sometimes seeming as if they happened eons ago. It's really a weird sensation. And then you get home, and likely nothing has changed. At least in my case, the old grind, the old stress, is still here; I have enough money to pay my December expenses, thanks to this tour and a couple gigs, but I still feel the pressure I did when I left, which is to finally start getting ahead financially - to move beyond zero. For a few days I felt pretty chill and relaxed, but before I knew it, all the old anxiety was back, including the familiar relief at finally landing that necessary last gig I needed to make sure I had enough money to get through the month (gotta love last minute sub jobs).

It's odd.

Not saying I regret leaving - I love touring, and I really, really, really needed to get out of the city. And disorientation isn't a big negative, really, just a state of existence that perhaps I will need to get used to if I'm to become a touring musician.

Tour highlights, lowlights, dramatis personae, and awards

I'm guessing this is not the last time I will be touring Europe. I'm guessing this is not the last time I will be touring Europe with this band, or at least that is the hope. To that end, I think having an end-of-tour list of a sort might be appropriate. At any rate, here's a smattering of bests, worsts, and other assorted randomness.

First, the characters, or the people I've been spending 24 hours a day with for the past month.

Emanuel Ayvas - the eponymous front-man, and I hope he doesn't read this because I'll actually be saying nice things about him. Definitely one of the most brilliant musical minds I've ever had the privilege of working with (and I've worked with some amazing musicians), in any genre. And quite the character. Always writing music or lyrics, or recording random snippets of sound or video on his iphone, and sometimes basing entire songs around them. Probably also the most gutsy and ambitious person I've met, as well. This tour is funded by him, and we all get paid by him (I think a lot of people don't realize this, but the reality is that for a bunch of free-lance musicians, we could never go on tour without getting paid something, no matter how much we love the project. Just isn't feasible).

The rest, in no particular order:

Jeff Gretz - our drummer. Another brilliant musician, and well-versed in quite a few styles (classically trained, then worked with heavy metal bands for years). I sometimes think he could survive for months on only coffee and cigarettes. Has by far the most industry experience of any of us, as he has been touring regularly with various bands since his mid 20's, and also has a day job at a record label. Basically, co-manages the band along with Emanuel, and without his insights, I guarantee a lot of stuff would be much more difficult for us.

Nic Cowles - our flute player. Trained primarily in jazz flute, although also comfortable in many styles. Funny guy and, like Jeff, has a lot of industry experience. Unparalleled ability to see through and dissect bullshit.

Liz Hanley - violinist and backup singer. Amazing, bluesy voice, although can also hit the high C in the Queen of the Night aria. Talk about versatility. Trained classically, but now spends most of her time as a traditional Irish fiddle player and singer. The only female on tour with us, but handles it with great aplomb and patience, although her raunchy sense of humor is on par with anyone else's (except maybe Nic).

Gil Goldin - bass player. Trained in jazz back in his home country of Israel. Many people think bass players are a dime a dozen, and in NYC that's somewhat true, and for many bands this is fine, but I'd never want anyone other than Gil. Adds a dimension to the bass lines that just wouldn't be there with so many other players (although in all fairness I must say that the one sub we have had for him occasionally in the past covers the part admirably well), and is constantly throwing little nuances into the live set that never made it into the recordings.

Dennis Adler - our booking agent and friend. Without him, Europe would not be possible.

The list:

Best venue - Treibhaus, in Luzern, Switzerland. Great sound, nice, modern equipment, a band flat in the venue, and a good restaurant out in front where the band eats. What more could you ask for?

Worst venue - actually, not an easy one. While our second London show was our worst show, the venue itself was decent, with good equipment, and definitely had the capability of putting on a good show. The stage in Gent, Belgium was small and oddly shaped and thus very difficult to work with, but the sound worked out well enough and they put us up in an amazing hotel. Fucecchio treated us really well but it was like playing in a barn, with no soundproofing and high ceilings. This works well for some bands. This does not work well for this band. So there really was no worst venue, just different difficulties at different places.

Best (stage) sound - for me, at least, Faenza. Of course, I heard that it was due to the cello being overbearingly loud, but hell, I'll take it.

Worst (stage) sound - Manchester. The sound guy had no idea what he was doing; we eventually gave up and played the show acoustic. That said, I don't want this to reflect poorly on the venue which, on top of treating us very well, had an excellent system. They just had to bring in someone new for some reason that night and I guess maybe he lied on his resume?

Best crowd - tie between Lille and Reutlingen. Amazingly enthusiastic and made us feel like rock stars.

Worst crowd - London. Didn't care about us at all, talked through our entire set, and left early. Just can't play well under those conditions.

Best accommodations - 3-way tie between Lille, Haldern, and Gent. Gent had nice rooms, and I could see the spire of the cathedral out my window. Haldern was a wonderfully quaint quintessentially German bed and breakfast run by a couple who didn't speak much English, and had amazing showers. And of course Lille I spoke on at length.

Worst accommodations - London. 'Nuff said. Generous, warm host with no business hosting a 6-person band.

Most beautiful women - Tie between France and Switzerland. Closely followed by Poland and Italy.

Tour name - The Highway to Hull Tour

Moment of the tour - Visiting Bach's grave, or seeing Florence from the Piazzale Michelangelo.

Meal of the Tour - Faenza. 3-course gourmet Italian. OMG.

Rock star of the tour - Liz Hanley

Tour theme song - Baker Street, by Gerry Rafferty

Party of the tour - Tie between Poland and Lille. Lille was a crazy dance party. And Poland, well . . . as our drummer put it, "First time in Poland and I barely remember a thing."

Bartender of the tour - I forget his name, but the guy behind the counter in Poland. Brought us multiple rounds of shots during our set.

Character of the tour - our host in Faenza. On top of running sound at the venue, she tended the bar, did work in the restaurant, cleaned the place a bit, barked orders, and had a hilariously dry sense of humor. Do not fuck with this woman, was the vibe.

Beer of the tour - Hofbrau Dunkelweiss, or the Franziskaner Heffeweisse on tap. Or this Belgian beer I had in France. Or maybe this really tasty British Lager in Manchester.

Drink that everyone in EatFear can agree on - Whiskey. Bourbon, Irish, Scotch - we drink it all.

And to sum up, here is a ridiculously stupid iphone video we shot, mostly in Berlin. I think the emptied handle of Johnny Walker Black in one of the scenes says it all. A little explanation: that bit at the end is a shot of a brochure we picked up at a Swiss truck stop. It was so ridiculous we couldn't help but use it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVbVhFGkyJU

In order of appearance:

Jeff Gretz

Emanuel Ayvas

Brian Sanders

Liz Hanley

Dennis Adler

Gil Goldin

Our Belgian hosts

Nic Cowles

The audience at KOHI in Karlsruhe

Our tour van

Random Swiss brochure

Two squirrels

That's it. Tour is over, I'm home, and I'll be posting sporadically when I feel like it.

Home

So now I'm home. I've got a few blog posts rolling around in my head, we'll see how many actually make it online. The first, of course, is a summary of the last few days of the tour.

When last we left our hero, he was about to head to Antwerp for a house concert.

We left Karlsruhe much later than we had planned, due to a group insistence on finding food that was NOT made in a truck stop. A little side note about truck stops in Europe: Italian ones were the best, by far. I'm sure the French ones are similar (ie, they both serve the local cuisine), but having never actually EATEN at a French truck stop, I can't say for sure. The British ones are also good, provided they have an M&S in them. The food at the ones in Germany, however, is really pretty bad, and not only that, in Germany you have to pay .70 Euros to use the bathroom (although the machine then spits out a little .50 voucher good for anything there). Quite annoying.

At any rate, thanks to a late start and several GPS mishaps (she kept going temporarily insane and directing us off-track) we arrived at the show in Antwerp about 90 minutes later than we were supposed to, although it being a house concert it really wasn't a problem. Here is where I first learned that house concerts are awesome. You're pretty much guaranteed a decent meal and a place to stay. On top of that, it's very much like hosting a party - there's always plenty of alcohol. So basically what happens is you end up being the "guests of honor" of a sort, and the setting is so intimate that the audience HAS to listen and can't rally yak away like they sometimes do in a bar. Needless to say, by the end of the night in Antwerp, all the alcohol had been drunk, all the food had been eaten, and a very inebriated me was driven to a place to sleep by one of the fortunately not inebriated hosts. Had a great time, of course, made even better by the fact that two people we had met and then gone out with in Hamburg (they played before us) were at the show as well, stopping by on the way back to Germany from England. Always nice to make friends on the road.

The following day we drove to Lille. Now, we had been in Lille just over three weeks prior, briefly, to spend the night with the couple who was to host this house concert, but hadn't really seen the city proper. After getting in and eating a VERY late lunch (the band gets cranky when hungry, but meh, we survive), our hosts directed us to a big open-air parking lot where we were to leave the van for the duration of our stay, and then drove us to our accommodations, two apartments generously lent to us for the night. It was then that we finally saw Lille proper, and it was gorgeous. Much like in Gent (in fact, originally the city was Flemish), the old city managed to remain intact during WWII, and so we drove through a maze of winding cobblestone streets, surrounded by beautiful old buildings.

After hanging out for a few hours, eating food and drinking wine that our hosts had left us, we were driven back to the house where the concert was. The room was completely packed, with even two small children in the audience. Unlike the two other house concerts we played (and the one small bar with no sound system that felt like a house concert), this time we had a small sound board, some speakers, microphones for the vocals and acoustic guitar, and a very nice keyboard (the one we lugged around all tour was a piece of crap, to be honest). Playing a house concert is a lot of fun but, due to the lack of amplification, can be quite difficult, simply because strings and flute are naturally much louder than an acoustic guitar, and so it's very difficult to hear the strumming patterns; also, Emanuel doesn't have the loudest voice around, and so often in such situations it can be somewhat difficult for the crowd to hear him, and so we have to play much more quietly than we would like to. That night in Lille, however, none of that was a problem, and we played literally every second of material we brought with us, as well as a few things written on the road. The audience was amazing as well, cheering wildly after every song, which spurred us on to play a hell of a good set. I mean, of course we always give it our best every night, but crowd energy just has so much to do with it. No matter how well-trained one is, it's simply impossible to not have the crowd be a factor.

After the house concert, we stayed around for a while chatting with the audience (and of course drinking wine and Belgian beer), and soon it turned into a somewhat out-of-control dance party (I saw at least a couple people hit the floor, between the antics of the dancers and the inebriation factor). And a great time was had by all. At around 4 AM, our hosts escorted us back to the apartments (much different route walking than driving), and that was that.

The following day we had a day off, and our hosts generously offered us the apartments for another night. We then had the opportunity to walk around Lille during the day time, which we did for a few hours. The city was just beginning to set up its Christmas decorations, and, due to it being a Sunday, most of the businesses were closed, in spite of Lille being a city of 220,000 people (with a metro area of about 1,000,000). Of course we had to stop in at a local church, the Eglise Saint-Maurice, a beautiful building in the Gothic style, full of statues, sculptures and paintings. We then went to the Rue de Gand, a street known for its restaurants, for dinner, and of course had an excellent meal (how can one not, when in France?).

The next day, we said goodbye to our hosts, grabbed our instruments from their home, crossed the channel, and then drove to London for a show at a place owned by the quintessential hipster publication Vice Magazine. It was a free show, and for whatever reason just didn't work out for us. Lots of things went wrong, the crowd wasn't that into it (clearly not there to see us) and frankly, we were glad when it was done. Free shows can be tricky like that - when a show is free, no one feels any obligation to listen, and you are guaranteed to have people just there to drink, who don't care one whit WHO is playing. We played four free shows at venues on this tour, and only one was an unqualified success.

We then went to a flat that our booking agent had landed for us last-minute, as the venue wasn't paying for accommodations (not uncommon for London, or any major city for that matter). The host was a really nice, friendly guy, but why on earth he agreed to host a 6-person band is well beyond the scope of my reckoning. I ended up spending the night curled up between two comfy chairs I pushed together (my back was not pleased with me), and two of us spent the night in the van. None of us slept more than a few hours (except the two lucky enough to get a couch and a mattress, and we didn't begrudge them that). We got up the next morning, had a good English breakfast, and drove off to Hull feeling optimistic, as one is only allowed one worst show of the tour.

The last time we were in Hull, we had a great experience. The club where we played both times is called the New Adelphi, and it is somewhat unique in that the owner, a man named Paul Jackson (and a man whom we all admire greatly), insists that only smaller, mostly unknown bands are allowed to play there. In its 26 year existence, the club has given a stage to such stars as Radiohead, Oasis, and Franz Ferdinand (good company, no?). He also happens to really like our music; the club manager told us our CD had been in pretty much constant rotation there ever since our first performance. Hull is also the site of the best Indian food I've ever eaten, and it was waiting for us on our return. We had a great show, and the club had a good bit more people than it did the first time we played there. The New Adelphi is a club I'd be happy to play on every tour.

After the show, we did our usual sit-around-and-chat-and-sell-merch thing, after which we hung out with the club staff for a while, all of whom are amazingly nice people, and then said our goodbyes. This last night of the tour was to be our most difficult, but we had known that from the very first day. The issue was that our flight left from Heathrow at 12:50 the following day. However, we also had to drop our equipment off with the person we had rented it from at a town about an hour outside of Hull. We also had no interest in dealing with rush hour traffic around London. Thus the course of action had to be thus: we would leave Hull, drop off the gear, then drive to a gas station not too far from the airport to wait until about 8:30 AM. We would then get to Heathrow around 9, drop off the van with the rental company, and have plenty of time to get through check-in, security, and have breakfast before the flight.

This plan mostly worked as planned. The only hitch was the when we got to the vicinity of the airport, we simply could not seem to find a service station, and on top of is all we were running out of gas. After a stressful 30 minutes of getting lost and wondering where in hell we were going to find fuel, we finally managed to get off the highway, locate a gas station, and even find some signs for a back way to Heathrow (at that point the highway was bumper-to-bumper). I managed maybe an hour of sleep, and hadn't showered or changed my clothes since leaving Lille. But hey, that's rock and roll, isn't it?

The flight was fine, of course. I don't mind overseas flights, since these days you can watch a plethora of stupid movies on a tiny screen to pass the time. I had no interest in sleep, since I figured my best bet to beat the jet lag was to tough it out until the evening, where eventually exhaustion would take over and I'd awake at a reasonable hour (success, on that score).

Home stretch

It's been a few days, but here I am. Since my last post, I've been to Reutlingen (in Germany), Fucecchio (pronounced Fu-che-kio for any who are curious; I know I was), Faenza, and then here to Karlsruhe, in southern Germany.

The Reutlingen show was interesting. We were playing at a venue, Franz K., where we had been before, a place where we had one of the best shows of our last tour. Apparently, someone from Stuttgart had been there, and told some folks who then checked us out on the internet; thus, there were a group of young folks from Stuttgart, dancing like maniacs right in front of the stage. At first we didn't know what to make of them - we aren't exactly famous yet, and there they were treating us as if we were some big rock stars or something. That said, I look forward to the day when we can play a show in front of hundreds of people in that frame of mind - even a small group is a somewhat intoxicating experience in some ways. Afterwards we signed lots of autographs and sold quite a bit of merch - really quite a nice time.

The next day, we left Reutlingen at about 6:30 AM for the drive to Italy. It was projected by google and our GPS as a 9 hour drive, and they were expecting us at about 5:30, so we figured we had better leave plenty of time. It was a rainy, foggy day for a drive through the Alps, but let me say that in spite of all that it was one of the most spectacular drives I've ever been on. There were a few high points - the first was that we were just about into the Alps proper when we rounded a bend, and below us was an enormous lake, surrounded by mountains on all sides. The winding road offered spectacular views at every turn. Eventually, as we got higher up, it began to snow, and before long we were driving through a veritable blizzard, the trees all bending under the weight about about 6 inches of wet snow. Fortunately, the ground was warm enough that none of it stuck to the road, so we never had any terribly treacherous conditions. Eventually, after about fifteen minutes of driving through an alpine winter wonderland, we got to a 17 km long tunnel and, emerging on the other side, all the snow and rain was suddenly absent. That said, it had clearly rained recently, as some of the snow-melt trails down the mountainsides had become spectacular waterfalls. We eventually got to Italy, which was actually rather flat and boring for quite a while before finally turning into a winding road in another small mountain range.

Anyways, quite a nice trip.

Fucecchio itself is virtually a suburb of Firenze, which I didn't realize was the Italian word for Florence, a fact that I was much excited to learn. The show itself was interesting - we played a free show at a club where quite a few of the patrons were clearly not that interested in what we were doing in the slightest. And yet, we still ended up selling a fair number of CDs. I think the rather echo-y sound in the club did not help our particular setup either; I have to wonder if we would have had a more positive experience in a less acoustically live room. After the show, we stayed in a hostel, which was located in a 1500s era building constructed by the Medici family. Just so you know.

The day after the show in Fucecchio, we drove to Faenza. On the way we made sure to stop at the Piazzale Michelangelo, a tall hill overlooking the old part of Florence, from which one can easily see the vast majority of the buildings for which the city is famous, and from which I would imagine most pictures of the city are taken (I have one as the wallpaper on my computer - the view was quite a familiar scene for me). The show in Faenza went much better than in Fucecchio; the sound was much better, as the club had acoustically deadened the sound with cloth panels, and the audience was very attentive. It also helped that at this venue we were treated to by far the best meal of the tour at the gourmet restaurant attached to the club. After the show, we got to the club flat at around 1:30 AM, needing to be up at 5:30 the next morning for the drive to Karlsruhe.

Yesterday, the drive was nearly as nice as the drive into Italy had been, which really helps the time pass. It took about 10 hours with stops, and we actually arrived at the club somewhat early. The venue here in Karlsruhe is called Kohi, a place for which I have quite a soft spot. It was one of the best shows of last tour, despite the fact that at that point Eman had mostly lost his voice and we had to play it mostly acoustic. This time we had no such troubles, and gave the audience an entirely different set, always a nice thing to be able to do.

Tonight we play in Antwerp, at a house concert. I'm looking forward to it - house concerts can be quite a good time, and such intimate settings are often musically rewarding. We'll see, I guess.

Leaving Switzerland

After a nice, restful day in Schaffhausen - sleeping until noon, not getting out until about 3, and then walking around a city that reminds me of some magical Disney movies - the tour starts up again in earnest. Today we drive to Reutlingen, about 2 hours north of here, for a show in our booking agent's home town in a nice venue that we played at on the last tour. Then, tomorrow, comes the first of two hell days - the drive to Italy (and then two days later the drive back out again). I mean, admittedly, the drive is going to be gorgeous - through the Alps most of the way. But 9 hours drive time not counting traffic and necessary stops is nothing to sneeze at. Still, with 3 drivers, it will be doable. We have also heard rumors about the food in Italy - apparently it's tasty - so of course we're thinking it will be worth the trip.

The show here last night was a good time. The bar owner is another one of those Europeans who actually believes in - gasp - bringing unknown bands to play his venue. He knew he'd be taking a loss on this show (he admitted as much to us) but still gave us housing for two days, an excellent meal, and literally anything from the bar at any point during the night. So kudos to the Cardinal restaurant and all who work there - you're doing valuable work. The crowd was also very nice (ie enthusiastic) and as seems usual for Switzerland, definitely there to listen. Another top-notch experience in a country that I hope will continue to host us.

So for those of you who read the tour rule book, it's a very accurate and complete list of necessary things to be mindful of when on tour. To that list I would add, if you have a problem with someone, fix it. I was pissed at a band member, and told him so after a show. I yelled at him about some stuff, he yelled at me about some stuff, we shook hands, had drinks, and that was that. You just can't go on stage every night with animosity towards other band members if at all possible. I'm not saying you have to like every member of your band (many string quartets famously hate each other), although I happen to; but active anger about something is really tough to deal with on stage. I guess some bands manage to keep performing in spite of such things, but it really can't be healthy.

Probably won't be blogging much over the next 5 days or so, given the insane traveling, but we'll see.

Luzern

So here I am, sitting in Luzern, Switzerland. Beautiful place - all around are snow-capped peaks and old buildings, although I'm currently seated in a rather odd, boxy building painted bright green, called Treibhaus, which translates literally to "Greenhouse" (har har). I'm doing my laundry for the first time on this tour, a welcome relief, as I'm currently on my last pair of underwear and socks. Obviously it's ok to double up from time to time when one is on tour, but 3 days is a no-go.

Since last posting, I have visited J. S. Bach's grave (followed by the bar Goethe used to frequent), played a small house concert in Berlin, played a show in Offenbach, and last night performed here in Switzerland.

Clearly, with time to kill in Leipzig, the band had no choice but to visit the church where Bach used to perform, and where his body was eventually moved, to be buried near to the altar. A fitting tribute, given how much of his life he spent in service to that church (and of course to people as a whole, but one wonders if he had even an inkling of the impact on all of western music that he was going to have). Not much to say on that topic, other than it's yet another item I can cross off my life list. After that, we walked around Leipzig, where our host pointed out places of interest, and their history. After leaving the city center, our host then took us to perhaps the single weirdest shop I have ever seen in my life. It was a very large warehouse just full every little old knick-knack that one can imagine. For instance: a room full of motorcycles; a room full of medical gear and taxidermy (including some random prosthetic limbs); room upon room of antiques, including a full-sized bellows for working in a forge; rooms of little assorted oddities, decorations, and the like; and so on and so forth. Definitely worth a visit.

After Leipzig we headed to Berlin for 2 days off, where we stayed with our booking agent Dennis, as we always do when in Berlin. While we were there, Dennis had the bright idea of hosting a last-minute house concert. While not too many people showed up, a man working at a small record label showed up, and randomly brought two of the people who were working for the man running the Haldern Pop Festival with him (who we had met when we played in Haldern). Definitely a good thing for us, as they got to see us perform again, this time a completely acoustic set. We also managed to get a rough sketch together of a new song, which means we can play it in a pinch, and mostly finished an arrangement of another, which has since been added to the set. Definitely time well spent. Plus, Berlin has the best falafel and shawarma of any place I've been, which we took great advantage of while there.

After Berlin, we drove to Offenbach. We got out late, and had some real hitches getting out of town, caused by a certain place we were planning on stopping to eat being closed, and having to get through a horribly snarled traffic circle twice while looking for food. Then on the way the weather turned downright nasty, which meant we ended up getting in quite late (entirely our fault). They had expected us earlier, and so the band who was supposed to open for us set up their gear and was sound checking when we got there, meaning we instead had to open for them. The place was pretty empty all night and everyone who came listened to both sets. Still, we resolved never to be late for something again on this tour, although I must admit when we drive to Italy and then 2 days later back to Germany, that is going to be a real challenge, as the drives are 8 and 9 hours, respectively. At least they are through the mountains most of the way.

Yesterday we came here to Luzern. The drive through South Germany was beautiful, and even moreso when we got into Switzerland, despite the rainy weather (a quick side note: we had pretty decent weather in England, and English weather most of the time so far in Europe. Sigh). The venue itself treated us quite well, as seems the norm for Switzerland. I think that most of the bigger venues here receive government money, and thus can afford to treat visiting bands very well, as well as pay them large sums of money (especially given the expected crowd size). The show went well and the sound was excellent, although it was somewhat poorly attended, as expected by the man who books this venue. Nevertheless, they loved our show and said they would absolutely love to have us back again. Afterwards, we all shotgunned beers (a new experience for me - ick) and then went out dancing. Swiss dance clubs have always been a good time thusfar, actually play excellent dance music, and I have yet to see more beautiful women anywhere. Hopefully we can keep coming back to this country.

Today we play a show in Schaffhausen, about an hour and a half north of here. Tomorrow is a day off there, and apparently the venue is putting us up free of charge. After that it's back up into Germany, and then to Italy for a pair of shows. The next week should be both interesting and picturesque, to be sure.

Priceless

http://beenlookingforthemagic.tumblr.com/post/1427157150/how-to-tour-in-a-band-or-whatever-by-thor-harris

Warning: strong language and picture of a naked viking looking dude.

That said, f-ing priceless and absolutely TRUE tour rules. We are planning to print these out and hang them in the van.

Poland - the day After (well, now technically two days)

So Poland was a blast. Not getting there, or getting back from there, but the show itself. To explain the journey, well it's simple - Poland is in the process of completely overhauling its highway system to prepare for the European football championship in 2012, as joint hosts with the Ukraine. This meant that the only route to Poznan from Berlin was under heavy construction, was at best one lane going both directions, and at one point was even reduced to one lane, period; given the fact that this was the only available road into Poland in that part of the country, you can well imagine what wonderfully horrendous lines of traffic were created. And going out was even worse.

But the show itself -

We were playing in a smallish venue in the heart of Poznan, the old city center (construction dating back to the 1500s or thereabouts). We got there a bit late due to the traffic, but the only person there was a bartender - the stage was still covered with sofas and tables. Eventually the sound people came, and after some nice Polish beer (always drink the local stuff on tour - you never know what you might be missing), had a productive (if long) sound check and a nice dinner. During the dinner, the person who booked the show admitted that we should not expect a large turnout, as it was a cold, rainy Sunday night. When we got back there was maybe 15 people there, so she told us to have a drink and wait around for some more people to hopefully turn up.

And turn up they did. By the time we took the stage, the vast majority of the seats in the house were filled, including all the seats on the bar. The crowd was very enthusiastic, and we ended up playing quite a few encores. That said, what was most interesting was that in the middle of our set, one of the bartenders approached the stage carrying a tray of shots of Cherry vodka. Honestly, that's unprecedented for me, and as far as I can tell for most folks in the band. And let me tell you, it's a pretty awesome feeling to raise your glasses and have an entire crowd do the same and all shout the traditional Polish toast, "Nostrovia!" This was to be repeated once more during the encores. This meant that by the time we got off the stage, everyone in the band had had 3-4 shots (depending on pre-show drinking) and a couple beers. Needless to say, the drinking continued (Polish vodka with lemon goes down WAY too easily), and by the time we finally headed to the hostel, the entire band was stumbling drunk. Also another first for us. We've definitely all been drunk together before, but not nearly to such an extent.

After enduring the insanity of the Polish traffic once more, we finally made our way to Leipzig. Here we played an all-acoustic set at a small cafe run by a friend of our booking agent. Apparently she likes to showcase bands once a month, and manages to attract a sizable crowd. Last night was no exception, and the little room was packed with about as many people as would fit (I'd say about40). Anyone who knows me knows that I love Emanuel's music, and for the record I think it potentially loses very little when put in an acoustic setting. What it perhaps lacks in intensity, it makes up for in sensitivity, as me and the other non-amplified instruments can actually do things like dynamics, and vary our textures far more. It's a COMPLETELY different sound, but no less effective.

Also notable is that before the show, the booker told us that if any of us wanted to play a solo, this would be a fine opportunity. I made it known that having the chance to perform a movement of Bach in Leipzig, Bach's home town, was a long-time dream of mine, and last night I finally got the chance, playing the prelude to the 3rd suite in C major during our encores. And let me say, the Leipzig folk LOVE their Bach.

Today we have a day off, during which we only have to travel to Berlin, where we'll be staying the night, tomorrow being a second day off. We plan to use a good bit of the time to polish off some songs for a new album we're working on, but also definitely to check out some of the Bach history here in Leipzig before hitting the road. Kind of like a pilgrimage.

And today, a new country - Poland

Internet access has been spotty at best, and I've spent my last 2 days in Berlin - not a place where I tend to spend much time sober. But here I am.

Since my last entry I've played five shows and three countries: Tilburg, NL; Duisburg, Haldern, and Berlin in Germany; and Copenhagen, Denmark.

Of Tilburg there isn't much to be said, except perhaps that the morning before driving there we walked around Gent, and it being All Saints Day, managed to witness part of an old-fashioned Catholic mass in Latin the Cathedral of St. Bavo, with a full choir and everything. What a privilege, to say the least. And of course, bought some Belgian chocolate. After that, we drove to Tilburg, where we were playing in the same venue as Joe Satriani (albeit in a MUCH smaller room). Needless to say, the place was busy, as he had brought two tour buses, but we certainly were not overlooked in the shuffle either (ie we had food and a room and such). Anyways, the sound wasn't great there and we had a small crowd, but still a good time. I mean, it WAS the Netherlands . . .

After Tilburg we drove to Duisburg, not more than 90 minutes away. Duisburg was one of my favorite venues from the last tour; they really treat you right, with good food, excellent beer (it IS a beer garden, afterall), friendly staff, and a top-notch sound guy. This time was no different. After the show, we went and stayed with the same person we had on the last trip, a real character named Christoph. I say he is a character because he can't go more than a week without having guests crashing at his place; apparently he has random people staying with him constantly, from bands to couch surfers. Never charges anyone a thing, just loves people I guess.

Our next show was in Haldern, and was billed to us by our booking agent as our most important show of the tour, despite the fact that it probably paid the least and was in the smallest town. This is because the owner of the venue where we played runs a music festival that is, apparently, one of the most important in Germany (or so we've heard from several sources). Not for its size, or for who it brings, but for the quality of music people have come to expect, and it's also apparently well attended by people from other festivals looking for new bands, as it tends to showcase excellent groups that no one has ever heard of. So apparently playing at his bar is an audition of sorts for his festival. Fortunately, we were up to the challenge, and gave the strongest set of the tour (having a real piano in house instead of our crappy electric keyboard really helped). Not sure if it will lead to anything, but he was clearly quite impressed. One just never knows in such situations.

The next day we made the long drive up the Danish peninsula and across an island to Copenhagen. What we found when we got there was a small club, an impossible parking situation on narrow and crowded streets, a sound system totally unsuited to our type of music, and an audience that seemed by and large not terribly interested in listening to us. It's also the night that our sampler, on its last legs already, was simply not working and finally put out of its misery in a violent fashion by our clearly frustrated drummer (it was his to begin with). RIP.

Copenhagen being a less than happy experience, we were glad to head to Berlin the following day. Then yesterday, after a night of drunken shenanigans, we played at the Deutches Theater, a place that hosts all kinds of different events. It was a good show, with excellent sound, and our hosts were very attentive to our every need, even asking us what drinks we'd like on stage (most opted for a double shot of whiskey on ice). We got to bed at around 5 AM, and here I am, writing before driving off to Poland. I've heard that the Vodka there is some of the best anywhere and cheap as hell. And hey, while I've been availing myself of the cultural vices of all the various countries I've been visiting, may as well tack on one more.

Gent (Ghent?)

So here I am writing from the beautiful Belgian city of Gent. Right out my window I can see the central tower of the Saint Bavo cathedral; I hope to get a closer look tomorrow (only an hour and a half to drive for our next show).

Last night we were in Hanover. It turned out to be a pretty good show. The crowd was smallish, but quite a few of them bought CDs. Plus, the venue hosts all-night parties on Saturdays, which myself and Emanuel, armed with a case of beer, decided to avail ourselves of. I finally stumbled back to the place we were staying at around 6 AM, quite thoroughly soused. And subsequently suffered my first hangover of the tour.

This morning after going back to the venue for breakfast (I love it when venues give you dinner AND breakfast), we then struck out for Gent. Emanuel hadn't gotten to bed himself until about 7 AM, and so spent the drive sleeping. The venue itself was fairly small with quite a cramped stage; nevertheless, the sound was quite good, both on stage and out in the house. So far, the only lousy sound we've had was on the first night, which, judging by our last tour, is to be expected over here. The show was actually quite packed, although judging by the very small amount of merch we sold and the small number of folks who came and spoke with us, people were more there for the venue than for us in particular. Still, it's always nice to play for a full house, no matter why they are there. Also, the French couple whose home we stayed at in Lille a few days ago was there; it was nice to be able to give them a taste of our full volume sound, as when we play their house it will likely be mostly acoustic.

So far I've moved through excellent British lagers, Czech pilseners, German dunkelweiss, and tonight of course Belgian white beer. Love it.

Hanover

Hello from Hanover.

I'm drinking a nice German Pilsener in the green room of a club in yet another artist-commune-seeming place, with a velociraptor out front made of machine parts. I've only had sporadic internet over the past few days, thus the distance between entries.

After Manchester we drove down to London, stopping en route (well, slightly out of our way) to pick up a replacement guitar amp. The drive to the amp was gorgeous, taking us through the north England countryside. I HAVE to vacation up there someday, when I have the money and time. It's kind of like Pennsylvania, but just a touch different, especially with the old stone buildings dotting the landscape. After picking up the amp, we drove down to London. The traffic was pretty horrendous, as London traffic is wont to be, but we eventually made our way to the venue, an old place called the Brixton Windmill (Brixton being the neighborhood it's in). The crowd wasn't large, but our press agent in the UK was there, and apparently she was able to get several journalists to come as well. Which is, of course, why one plays a large city like London.

After London we crossed the channel and drove to the city of Lille. We were originally going to Antwerp, but a few days before had been informed that the person we were to stay with had to do some last-minute work on her house and was unable to host us. It turns out that a few weeks ago our drummer had put out a message that we were looking for some more gigs to fill some space at the end of the tour, and a couple in Lille offered to throw us a house concert since they love our CD. And so when our housing in Antwerp fell through they also offered to put us up at their place instead. They were amazingly generous: fed us, wined us, and gave us the run of their apartment for the night (they went to stay with the man's sister). Before that night we were virtually complete strangers (minus a few e-mails) and yet they still left us alone in their nice place. Generosity and trust on that level is a rare thing.

We then journeyed to Hamburg, to play at an art/dance/music festival. The venue was quite nice, and quite large - certainly far too large for the somewhat small crowd. That said, the sound was excellent, and those people who were there were very enthusiastic, dancing and some of them even singing along. As much fun as it is to have a big crowd, an active one is even better, because then you really know why it is you're playing. After the show, we went out for drinks with the opening act, and made quite a late night of it, since Hanover is a mere 90 minutes drive away.

And that brings me to today. We still haven't gone to a currency exchange place, although lord knows we tried this morning, and so my spending is to this point almost nil (I think i owe eman five euros). The sound at this place is quite nice, and I'm looking forward to taking the stage. Hopefully some people come out.

European Tour Number 2, First Show

So, we just had our first show in Europe, and basically everything that could go wrong did. We were missing cables. Our guitar amp didn't work. The show was scheduled last-minute and thus very under-promoted, so there were only 20 people there (although given other problems that was probably a blessing). And the sound guy had NO idea how to work the system. Literally. It was so bad that after three songs of none of us being able to hear anything, we all unplugged, went down on the floor, and played and entirely acoustic set. We really had no choice, with four of the six of us basically playing deaf.

The up side was the hospitality. We've had a decent place to stay for two nights, some decent Chinese food, and plenty of good British beer, so no complaints on that end. Tomorrow we're going to pick up a new amp, and then drive to London for what we hope is the first "real" (ie plugged in) show of the tour. We're hoping all of the bugs were worked out this first night, but I guess we'll see.

Football

A lot of people I know give me surprised looks when they find out that I'm a football fan. I guess that's because classical musicians (well, at least classical string players at any rate - brass players are a different breed) don't tend to watch much in the way of sports, let alone American football. And yet, I've been a football fan most of my life.

The first football game I can remember watching was the Redskins/Bills Super Bowl in 1992. I actually had to go look up what year that was, but I guess that meant that I was eight years old at the time. For some reason I was cheering for the Bills. I think it's because I liked their bright blue and orange uniforms. Also, it may be that, through some coincidence, they were the team I ended up watching through the playoffs, as opposed to their counterpart.

I definitely have to credit my father with sparking my interest in football. He always had the games on on Sundays, although until that specific year I don't recall if I ever noticed. He always had a lot to say about the games that I didn't understand; he'd call "holding" on plays where no flags were thrown by the refs, or talk about "poor coverage" (he still never seems to notice "good coverage"). To this day, we always watch football together when I come home, of course provided that it's football season.

Further cementing my interest was the fact that a few years later, two Wisconsin teams ascended to the top of the sport, the Badgers making the 1994 Rose Bowl and the Packers making the Super Bowl twice, in 1997 and 1998. Kids who had never talked about football before were suddenly obsessing over the sport, and for the first time I actually knew the names and positions of various players who weren't the quarterback.

I always relish the start of football season, even during years (like last year) where I haven't had consistent access to a television. Even without seeing the games, one can follow them through various sports writers, and read about all the on- and off-field drama. I know it doesn't really mean anything, and I know it's just a bunch of overpaid mammoth prima donnas trying to maul one another for the chance to carry an oddly-shaped ball over a white line, or perhaps kick it through an over-sized tuning fork. I get that. And I still love it.

On standards vs realities

So recently, a couple things happened that made me think a while on the issue of having high standards in everything one does vs the realities of music-making for a living. To a freelancer, tis is a very important issue. I long ago resolved never to accept a take on a recording that doesn't meet at least some base quality level, that base level being quite high. The problem is, often when doing gigs/recording sessions, a fee is agreed upon beforehand, and then the session takes however long it takes. Obviously, a gig that operated by the standards laid down by the musicians union does not work this way, but most of the gigs I end up doing don't follow those guidelines.

The simple reality is that in most sessions, there is little to no rehearsal; sometimes, you are asked to find other musicians to play with, and sometimes they are chosen ahead of time by someone else. What this all adds up to is that sometimes your ability to get a solid take can be severely hampered by an incompetent musician; or, sometimes, the music is quite difficult, and even with a strong group of musicians a really excellent take may simply be out of reach.

What this can add up to is the idea that to reach the standard I set for myself, I would need to do a LOT more work than I'm getting paid for. Some artists understand this concept and behave accordingly. Others abuse it, most likely not due to any maliciousness, but just because it hasn't crossed their mind. A few examples:

I have worked with the band Emanuel and the Fear for quite some time now (will be three years as of this November). Emanuel is very careful to never schedule unnecessary rehearsals. Sure, the band could be tighter and more in tune if we rehearsed once a week, but the reality is we aren't getting paid enough for that, and so we settle for what we get by rehearsing only very occasionally. Because everyone in the band is a pro, the result is still at a very high level, but it certainly could be better. But it's a necessary compromise.

About a week ago, I played a Cuban music session with a string quartet. The music was exceedingly difficult, and we only had one rehearsal to put together three songs. We were paid quite well for the job, and the level of all the musicians involved was quite high, and so of course no one objected to spending all day in the studio. That being said, if the engineer and artists who we were recording for had insisted on perfection, we would have been there all night as well, and to be honest probably wouldn't have had a better end-result. I'd say the end result was quite good, but I know everyone left some blips in the takes that we'd like back.

Lastly, I recently did a session for a Brooklyn indie band who are friends with a colleague of mine. This was an unpaid session, which I agreed to do partly because it was my friend who asked me, and partly because I'd heard a lot of good things about the project. Also, it was just supposed to be background string tracks for a three songs, so I figured it would take at most two hours. I was dead wrong. We were at the studio for about six hours (including a dinner break), mainly because the band and the recording engineer were nitpicking every little thing. So the end result was at a very high standard, the sort of standard I'd normally like to shoot for in any session. Except, again, it was unpaid.

This bothered me quite a bit. I sort of feel it common sense that if you have a group in for free, you don't insist that they nail everything perfectly. I can honestly say that I sympathize with and admire the mindset, but there SHOULD be a law in music as immutable as, say, the law of thermodynamics. And that is that you can either have top notch strings on your album, or you can have free strings on your album, but not both. And the next time I'm asked to do something like this, I'm going to set a hard time limit ahead of time so they know what my expectations are. It's just bad for business to give your very best work and not get paid.

And then, to end on a happy note, sometimes you go into a session and find nice, well-written, not-too difficult charts, top-notch music to play over, excellent musicians to work with, and a decent paycheck. I've had two sessions like that this summer, both with the same group of people at the same studio. Hopefully, they hire me again.

3 years in NYC

It has been just over 3 years since I first came to this city; of those, two were spent in the relative safety of "being a student", and the third has been spent in the "real world". So here are a few observations and lessons I've learned in that time.

1. New Yorkers are not NEARLY as rude/obnoxious/annoying as they have been portrayed on TV and in film. Obviously, with so many people crammed together in such a small space, you inevitably will run into plenty of assholes, but no more than anywhere else.

2. It's not so bad being one of the only white people on a given block. I mean, I didn't think it would be, or else I wouldn't have spent 2 years in neighborhoods where I was distinctly a minority, but it was nice to see it confirmed. Heck, I didn't even speak the same language (Spanish) as most of the folks living nearby, but it didn't seem to ever bother anyone.

3. If a subway pulls up to the station, and the cars that pass by you are full but the one that stops in front of you is empty or nearly so, something is wrong with that car. Either the air conditioner isn't working, in which case it will be well above 90 degrees, or it smells terrible, for one reason or another. I learned this one the hard way several times.

4. Versatility and openness to trying new things are two of the most valuable traits a musician can possess. If I didn't know how to improvise, or hadn't had the guts to try busking, I definitely would have had to get a real job by now.

5. An AC is a necessary component to surviving a typical New York summer. Last summer was far cooler than normal, and I was not in New York the previous summer, so this one caught me quite unprepared.

6. Speaking of community, finding one is another necessary component to survival in a place where neighbors never say hello.

7. Provided you're not one of the wealthy types who has a nice midtown apartment with a doorman and can afford to take a cab everywhere, NYC will teach you how to tolerate pretty much anything. Everything one ever has to learn about survival (well, obviously not moose-skinning, but I think you get my meaning) can be learned here. I think the Onion summed it up best.

8. My perceptions of myself as an artist changed radically when there was suddenly this imperative to pay for basic things like rent and food. It's not that I no longer love my job. It's just that as the motivation changes, certain realities become apparent. For instance, I'm now far less tolerant of extra rehearsals being scheduled, or people asking for unpaid work, or people whom I'm getting paid to work with being less than fully professional. Or people not understanding that I am only doing such and such a gig because I'm getting paid, not necessarily because I care even a bit about the project itself (sometimes yes, sometimes no). I'm not so good at pretending to care.

9. I still am not sure how I feel about New York. It is a place where I have been able to get the sorts of musical experiences I never knew I needed, and to study with a brilliant teacher while I did it. It's also a place where it's hard to feel like one is making any progress, at least financially, and sometimes professionally as well. It's a place where people go to find their dreams, and where many have those dreams dashed. Can't live with it, can't live without it, as the saying goes.

Where gigs come from

So today was a much better day. As I remarked to my mom this morning, it's truly amazing how quickly things can turn 180 degrees. Yesterday, I had just missed a Sunday gig due to being stuck in traffic (not a great practice, but it was one of my regular church gigs and they are pretty chill about such things - not like a wedding or anything - I wouldn't have been playing a show upstate in the first place if that had been the case); then I was offered a gig Monday morning that fell through. I haven't made the money I needed to this month, and that's always frustrating.

But today, I went out to Queens to play soccer with a Venezuelan friend who has given me work in the past. And he offered me a very lucrative recording gig for mid August. A gig lucrative enough to by itself pay 80% of my expenses for the month (rent, subway, internet, food). He also offered me a potential gig in September that I may or may not be available for. The point is, one day one can be feeling frustrated and wondering how to pay the bills, and the next day the answer can just come out of the blue.

This of course in no way detracts from the validity of yesterday's posts. The NYC scene is indeed a cruel place. But not always.

Anyways, on the commute home I was thinking about how one gets gigs in this city, and I realized that about 90% or so of my gigs have come from only two initial sources: craigslist, and a cellist colleague of mine from Mannes. In her case, she left town and sent a number of people she works with my name. This led to both my regular church gigs, as well as work with some excellent bands. While working with one of those bands I met a violinist, who knows a composer, who wrote some string arrangements for a folk singer who then needed quality string players to record for him. Several degrees of separation, yet yielding some very good work.

As for Craigslist, much of the work I get directly, as in someone posts a message looking for a cellist, I send them my materials, and I'd say about 40%-50% of the time, I get hired. However, one also tends to meet people during these gigs who can end up being excellent connections. For instance, the guy I was playing soccer with who offered me this most timely of recording gigs was someone I met while doing a not so well paying gig for a church that posted on Craigslist. I recently was asked to do a film score by a friend of a singer-songwriter I used to work with, whom I met via craigslist.

All this goes to show that no matter what, you HAVE to get yourself out there. Relying on music school and people you meet there can sometimes work out, but the reality is that having as broad a base of contacts as possible is absolutely key. Even if at first you have to take a lot of free or low-paying gigs. I got my second church gig while playing a service that, at the time, was ostensibly a free gig (I was later paid, but I was told beforehand that I wouldn't be). That's not to say that one should ever undervalue their talent; if you're going to play a free gig, at least make sure it's worth your time, either through quality of musicianship (working with great people is its own reward, as far as I'm concerned) or for a good cause. However, especially in a big city, it's unwise to always turn up your nose at a gig just because it's in an odd part of town, requires a long commute, and/or doesn't pay well. You never know, the people you meet may be the only thing between you and needing to get a day job.

Recordings

A friend of mine recently posted on youtube some recordings of performances we did together about a year and a half ago. There is no video (only nice pics of the two of us) but the audio quality is pretty good, and the performance of the Brahms Sonata was, I would have to say, one of my strongest to date. So for your listening pleasure:

Brahms Sonata in F:

movement I

movement II

movement III

movement IV

Messiaen, Louange a l'eternite de jesus

The problem of big talkers

So I thought about grouping this post with the previous one, but really I think it deserves its own heading. It's on another subject that's been bothering me lately.

Hey, if you want posts on happy topics, go talk to someone living in a room that isn't 6' X 10'.

Now, I'm sure to many who know me, the title will inevitably lead to accusations of potcallingkettleblackitis. And they would be absolutely true and well-founded. However, I'm in no position to really affect anyone's livelihood, so frankly I can talk all I want. I hope that, some day, when I'm more successful, that I remember this time in my life and choose my words carefully when discussing things that affect livelihoods, and to never make promises that I have no intention of keeping.

That last point is essential. When I was first getting into rock music, I took everyone at their word. If they said they were going to hire me again, I was filled with hope that they would actually do so, and that more gigs would be coming my way soon. The sad reality, however, is that almost nobody does this. Not even many musicians. Musicians, of course, are not nearly as guilty of this as industry types, but they do it all the same.

I once did a BIG gig for a guy. I mean big as in 6 rehearsals or so over the span of a month, and then a 5 day mini tour. I should have been paid double what I was given, but I agreed to do it in exchange for this certain well-placed individual's promise to pass some work in my direction. This was a necessary stipulation of our agreement, since the expense of staying in NYC for that extra month was about double what the gig paid, so I figured it was a fair deal. So I did the gig (and quite well, I may add - the bass player still occasionally calls me to this day, so clearly I performed up to and I'd say beyond all expectations; it was a HARD gig). The group I was working with assured me that this person would keep his end of the bargain when he returned in the fall. And so the months went by, and eventually I did hear from him again, once, for a wedding gig. It was a $200 gig, and so I was pleased to get it, but it was far from what we had agreed upon. I sent him a few more e-mails after that. He said he may have another gig for me, but after that I never heard from him again - he wouldn't even respond to my constant inquiries on whether or not I even still had the gig he said I should be possibly ready for.

This experience taught me a very valuable lesson: never take anything for granted, not even when every indication points to the honesty of the person. To this day I am still upset with the person in question. I feel he used me to get out of a commitment, and then when I demanded fair value for my service he very much failed to live up to his end of the bargain.

I suppose this was the worst example of people making promises they were unwilling to keep. In all the myriad other cases, it was producers, engineers, recording artists saying they would love to have me back, in some cases saying they already had a project lined up for me. They, however, didn't explicitly owe me anything. They were just talking.

Now, part of this has to do with the inherent uncertainties in the industry. I remember once, about a year ago, Emanuel and the Fear was offered an opening slot for a band called the New Pornographers, a very famous indie band, for a college show in Nebraska. Of course, we were all excited about this and made sure we kept the date open. However, as it drew closer and closer, things kept going wrong. First the New Pornographers dropped out, and were replaced by the Decemberists. They dropped out, and were apparently replaced by Spoon, who then also decided against this concert, and so the whole thing was scrapped. Frankly, I don't know any details about why or how all of this happened, and I'm not sharing this incident to point to flakiness on anyone's part, only to point out that such things are in fact common in the rock business.

That said, literally every time I'm in a recording studio, SOMEone says that they have more work for me, or will soon. And NO ONE ever calls again. Oh, there are rare exceptions, but they usually involve the same project. For instance I once laid down some string tracks for a pop album, and the album's writer had me back in the next week to lay down a few more backing tracks, but he said he'd definitely be calling me back for other projects and a show in the fall with the artist I was recording for, but no dice.

At first it bothered me. Now, it still bothers me, but I take it for granted. And I always hand out my business card and pretend to be enthusiastic and friendly, but really I know that their words are just empty talk, until proven otherwise.

Bitterness and the NYC scene

So I've heard reports recently that some folks actually enjoy reading my blog. That's a reason to write. So here I am, writing. Plus, well, today I felt a desire to write about a topic that's been coming up a lot recently in my life. Thus the title.

The simple reality is that being a musician in NYC is HARD. Really hard. Of course it's quite easy for some, or at least easier; those with Broadway gigs in popular shows (Billy Elliott, The Lion King), those with regular teaching jobs or substantial private studios, and of course those lucky enough to play with the symphony. Other than that, however, the majority of New York musicians are freelancers like myself. Most have day jobs; those that don't are often unsure about where their next rent check is coming from (my situation), and in effect sacrifice security for a much greater chance at achieving their goals.

However, I'd first like to focus on a third group of musicians: the visionaries. I suppose that's a rather flattering way to put it, but what I'm referring to are those who write music, organize bands, and then try to turn the project into something they can use to support themselves. Obviously quite a few of them are far from visionary, with egos far surpassing their meager talents. But then again, in a city like New York, there are a great many who are brilliant musicians, writing in many genres. Some few are successful. A depressingly large number of the musical mediocrity manage, in some cases, a great deal of success (even one of them is too many in my book; it takes opportunities away from the truly creative).

For a relative unknown such as myself (I hope that's changing, but it's hard to tell), I generally end up working with artists who can't afford to spend a lot of money, which means I can be choosy about whom I work with (for only $50, I won't work with a hack). Also, the type of songwriters who envision cello in their project generally have a greater understanding of, and desire to make compelling, original music than many. What this boils down to is the fact that, generally speaking, I end up working with a lot of brilliant, yet unsuccessful songwriters.

This brings me to the title of my post. Lately I've been noticing a strong streak of bitterness in these people, a sort of jaded cynicism. And it's completely understandable. For someone in my situation, I make my living by working with a great many projects, and being paid for my endeavors. A songwriter, however, to form a successful project, must devote him or herself entirely to that project. It's true they may do one-offs once in a while, but the simple truth is that I've seldom met songwriters who were also professional freelancers. One I work with quite a bit teaches quite a few students on various instruments to support his project, but most of the others I work with have day jobs. This is mainly because of the simple reality that the club scene here in NYC is truly a barbaric industry.

Here's how it works: band talks to booker at a club. Booker offers random slot, probably 9 or 10 PM on a weeknight. Booker then talks about pay. A typical deal , for instance, is the club will take the first, say, 7 cover charges, and the bands get some percentage of the remainder, never less than 50%, rarely 100%. However, the catch is that you also have to bring out a certain number of fans, or else the club will likely never book you again. Some mid-size venues (capacity 200-300) want you to bring out at least 75, most smaller clubs will be happy with 15-20, especially on weeknights and holidays. Another sad reality of the NYC scene is that people generally only stay for the band they come to see. So a typical club will have 3-5 bands most nights, with a constant turnover in the audience. Some clubs push this by making you pay a cover charge for each set, or by instituting a drink minimum that applies to each set, although I haven't seen too much of this.

What this boils down to is, for a new band, a really difficult uphill battle. For a new band, the fan-base will be friends, and pretty much only friends. And, given the realities of the club scene, it can be extremely difficult to expand that fan base, since no one sticks around across sets. This also means that most initial shows will have very little, if any payout, meaning that a band must either be comprised entirely of members dedicated to the project, or have the band leader be willing and able to fund it (this is generally how I make a lot of my income).

This produces a lot of bitterness. I've heard two amazing songwriters recently (one I've worked with for 3 years, another I played a house concert with) mention that they are thinking about just giving up entirely. Years of playing gigs for no money, knowing that the quality of the music that they are making far outshines much of what "makes it", tends to breed first frustration, then resignation ("well, I may not be making any money, but at least I'm doing what I love), then cynicism. Many of us freelancers go through similar stages (I don't know where I'd fall currently - but at least I can basically pay my bills doing nothing but music, so I really can't say I have THAT much to complain about), but I know for a fact that it's harder for the songwriters, who have to deal with the catch-22 of needing money to really get a project off the ground (band members, demo recordings, rehearsal space) and yet not having a built-in system in place to make it possible to make money.

It seems things really are different in Europe. When on tour, I met many club owners and promoters who were doing what they were doing simply for the love of the music. One man, I think Andy was his name, in the town of Middlesbrough, was absolutely thrilled to make $20 on the show. Another, Paul Jackson in the city of Hull (owner of the New Adelphi) told us that he was simply unwilling to book big artists - his mission is to bring new, undiscovered music to people, and he makes enough to live on doing it that there's no reason to change. I have yet to see a club like that in NYC. It could be because expenses in the city are so high that no one can afford to. However, I think it simply has more to do with the fact that that philosophy doesn't exist here. And it's a real shame. And it will continue to drive more and more brilliant people away from making the music they love.

So I'm back in the states. I have plenty to write about but currently not the will to do so (jet lag is a bitch). In the meantime, check this out:

Full amsterdam set

One of our best sets of the tour, with a packed room of 300.

Another day off

Since my last posting, I have played shows in Bern, Zurich, Vevey, Leipzig, Berlin, and Copenhagen. Today I have nothing to do, and it is wonderful. We are currently staying at the home of our booking agent Dennis in Berlin, who always seems to come through with places to stay for our off days, certainly a worry before the tour started.

At any rate, while it would be hard and take forever to give a detailed account of the past week, I can certainly give a few highlights.

Switzerland was a good time, for sure. On our final day in Bern we took a short trip to the nearby city of Fribourg. Although only about 20Km away from the solidly German-speaking Bern, Fribourg is primarily French-speaking, with all of the signs printed in French (although frequently with German printed below). Fribourg is a ridiculously picturesque town, located on a hill surrounded by a river on 3 sides, with tall bluffs overlooking it. The centerpiece of the town is a huge gothic cathedral, the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas, in the heart of the old part of the city. Basically, we spent our time there checking out the cathedral (open to the public) and then walking down into the river valley. If you ever come within 100 miles of Fribourg I strongly suggest you take the time to visit it. I can promise you won't regret it.

After Fribourg, we went back to Bern to play a show in the restaurant below the venue. Not too many folks listened much, but we got a free meal out of it and managed to sell a few CDs. Not bad for an hour's work, especially since the food was top-notch.

The next day we headed to Zurich. The venue was excellent, there was a good crowd, and afterwards we went out dancing at a hot (judging from the line to get in) Zurich night club. Fortunately we were accompanied by someone who knew the Zurich club scene and were able to bypass the line and get in for free. Definitely a good time.

After Zurich we drove to the town of Vevey, located on the North shore of Lake Geneva. Unfortunately it was a hazy day, so we never got a very good look at the mountains on the drive in, despite the fact that we were basically driving through them. At Vevey we played at a large venue, again with excellent sound. The band that opened for us was absolutely fantastic, and seemed to bring the majority of the crowd. Fortunately they stuck around, so we had some listeners, although unfortunately the crowd was somewhat dwarfed by the size of the venue. That said, we were treated very well, and it's always good to hear awesome bands over here. Plus, the next morning the haze had lifted and we came out of the hostel where we were staying to a full panoramic view of the snow-covered alps. Quite a sight to wake up to.

The next stop on our tour was Leipzig, about a 9-hour drive from Vevey. We were all beat by the time we got to the show, and none of us had slept more than 5 hours the past 2 nights. Plus, at first it seemed like no one was going to show, and the promoter had told us that it could be a thin crowd, as it was a Sunday night. That said, we ended up having a great time. A bunch of people came in right as we were getting set up and the place ended up being reasonably full. They were also quite an enthusiastic crowd, some even singing along with our songs. After the show we stuck around at the venue, dancing and drinking until about 4 in the morning.

After Leipzig we headed to Berlin, fortunately only about 2 hours away. Our booking agent was there, of course, and also two singer-songwriters we had played with during the course of the tour. The sound guy was drunk and incompetent, and it was frustrating, and definitely the worst sound of the tour, but c'est la vie. The sound overall has been excellent this tour, with only two shows with lousy sound, so I can't really complain.

Lastly, we went to Copenhagen. It was about 6 hours away via a ferry from north Germany, or about 7 hours driving all the way around, up through the peninsula and across the islands of Fyn and Sjaelland. Not having much of an idea what the ferry would cost, nor the schedule, and on the advice of our booking agent, we drove the long way. And for the record, Denmark smells of pig. Every 10 minutes or so the smell of pig manure would be almost overwhelming. Admittedly, it is the time of year where such things are spread on fields, but wow. At any rate, after a long and tiring day (in which Emanuel shattered one of the side mirrors on our van by driving too close to a construction barrier, although fortunately just the glass part) we reached Copenhagen.

The venue was a bitch to find. It was located in the middle of the neighborhood Christiania (recommended reading, the history of this place is fascinating). Basically, it's a largely illegal area of Copenhagen where people go to find marijuana and just hang out, but also a big tourist attraction, which largely explains why it still exists despite opposition from the current government (apparently the previous administration was not as opposed to the area). At any rate, the venue was a cool place with great sound. The crowd was relatively small but again enthusiastic, and the neighborhood was great fun to check out.

The following day we returned to Berlin via the ferry after finding out we spent nearly as much in gas an tolls as it cost to take it. Our driver has a cousin in Rostock (the town where the ferry arrived) who knows a lot about foreign cars and knew exactly where to send us to get our mirror fixed. And now I'm in Berlin.

Tomorrow is Hamburg, the day after Dresden, and finally Amsterdam. We're all keeping a close eye on the volcano situation, and hoping we have a flight home on the 26th.

Chillin'

So here I am in Bern. Yesterday I did . . . nothing. And it was glorious. "You're in Bern; what the fuck are you doing sitting around on your ass??" one might well ask. Well, to that I might reply: YOU try playing a show in a different city every night for 13 nights in a row, and see what you do when you finally get a day to literally do nothing.

Now that that's out of the way. Tonight is the first night of a 6-show stretch. Basically, we agreed to play in the restaurant downstairs for a meal and tips, and the opportunity to sell some CDs. Nothing better to do, really, and the show isn't until 10 PM so we still have the whole day to do some things. Tomorrow we play Zurich, and the day after in the city of Vevey, both two of our biggest guarantees of the tour and apparently in large, nice venues. Plus, they are putting us up in hotels. Basically, we get to live like rockstars for two shows. Should be fun.

After the 3 Swiss shows we head back to Germany for shows in Leipzig and Berlin, then up to Copenhagen. After Copenhagen we have 2 days off again in Berlin, where our booking agent has agreed to put us up for 2 nights. Then 2 more shows in Germany, a show in Amsterdam, and home. As much fun as this tour has been so far, I look forward to having my own room again, although as of yet I have no idea where that room will be . . .

Time off

So at last a break in our hectic touring schedule. We have arrived today in Bern, Switzerland, at a place arranged by our booking agent. Basically we will be staying in a room located above a venue in a somewhat shady building in a strange neighborhood under a large bridge. The building is completely covered with graffiti, so there are some worries that our van might get tagged as well, but really we don't have options so it's a risk we'll have to take. The room itself is quite comfy, with couches and tables and space for 12 people to sleep. And all for 100 euros for 3 days. Quite a bargain, really, in a country where accommodations are quite expensive. I'm looking forward to some downtime, at long last.

Yesterday we spent a good bit of the day driving through the Black Forest. We thought it would help to set the GPS to give us the shortest route through the forest between Reutlingen and Freiburg, since the typical route takes you around. For the record, the GPS takes the words "shortest route" VERY seriously, and after some time we found ourselves on some one-lane farm roads. Eventually it started trying to get us to take dirt paths through the hills, at which point we reset it to shortest time, backtracked a ways, and got on the highway. In the meantime we saw some beautiful towns with names like Fischbach, castles on hillsides, old churches, and some fantastic views. It actually snowed for a bit as in its upper reaches the Black Forest gets quite high, and there was still snow on the ground in a number of places. Overall a very enjoyable little trip.

When we arrived in Freiburg our first experience was a bit of a letdown. We found out that we had to pay for our own lodging, and the hotel booked for us was pricier by a good bit than we would have liked (although quite cheap for that part of the country). We could have stayed across the border in France for a good bit cheaper, but we just decided to stick with it. Then we went to the venue. We had heard that the venue was taking the first 90 euros from the door, and that we would get 100% of everything after that. After the cost of the hotel, at the proposed 6 euro cover charge, we would have needed to bring 45 people just to break even on the show, a feat we were not likely at all to achieve on a Sunday night. Fortunately, it turned out there had been a misunderstanding, and the venue owner told us we could keep all of the door. Plus he said we could set the cover at whatever we wanted, so we put it at 8 Euro after consulting a few locals, who said that was a standard cover charge in Freiburg.

The owner warned us that the crowd would likely not be very large, so we had very low expectations. Basically, we were quite prepared to lose a bit of money on this show. However, about 35 people showed up, and again about half of them walked away with a CD. We made almost 440 euros. Quite a good night, when all was said and done. Would have done better, but the owner suddenly started insisting on taking a small cut, which, after making as much as we did, we weren't prepared to fight over. That said, he was a shady character. We all agreed that the next time we come to Germany we'll be avoiding that place.

The next morning, we still hadn't yet been told where to go by our booking agent, so we started checking out cheap places in Alsace where we might be able to stay for a few days if needed. We then walked through the old part of Freiburg. And let me say, what an absolutely beautiful town. The town is centered around an ancient gothic cathedral, with cobblestone streets and trams everywhere. It was a bit of a tourist trap, but well worth seeing. We went to an excellent cafe recommended by friends of our German driver, then received the call from our booking agent that we had a place to stay in Bern. So here we are, and here we'll be for a few days. Finally, some steady internet access.

I heart Germany

Two more German shows. Yesterday was in the town of Offenbach, basically a suburb of Frankfurt. It was a weird show. Basically, we had a lighting guy who thought it would be a good idea to keep us musicians almost entirely in the dark the entire show and just put a light on Emanuel. Second, the audience was . . . disturbingly quiet. They applauded politely between all of the songs, and I know I'm not the only one in the band who was wondering whether or not they even liked it. An audience in America applauding like that definitely is bored. Plus, it was a reasonably small crowd, maybe 40 or so. However, we finish our last song and, just like Karlsruhe, they wouldn't let us leave. We played our encore and they wouldn't stop, so again Liz sang her irish tune, as again we were out of material. Another very solid merch night as well.

Last night we played in the town of Reutlingen, where I am writing from currently. This was a big show called the "Burning Eagle Festival", as our booking agent calls his company Burning Eagle Booking. There was at least 150 people in the crowd, and they went wild after every song. It was a strict set this time, so we shortened it a little, figuring we MIGHT get time for one encore. Again the audience went nuts at the end of the set, and again after our first encore, so we played a second. It was awesome, definitely our most energetic set of the tour (it's much easier when playing in front of a large, screaming crowd). By far our best merch night of the tour to date, close to 300 euros worth of CDs sold. Afterwards we hung out drinking with the other bands.

Today we drive through the black forest and play a show in Freiburg tonight. And then . . . 3 days off, maybe a show of some sort, but our booking agent is apparently working on some free accommodations in Switzerland. The French shows it turns out were WAY too far apart distance-wise and would have cost far more in gas than they would have paid in guarantees, so we're just going to hang out in the alps for 3 days. Damn, what a terrible thing . . .

Karlsruhe

Emanuel was still not feeling so well today. So we slept in, and then spent a bit of time buying some nice Parisian food (where else am I going to get a salmon quiche for breakfast?). We somehow managed to completely lose track of time and didn't end up heading out of Paris until about 2:30. Karlsruhe, it turned out, was quite a distance away. We left at 2:30 and didn't get in until about 9 PM, given that we needed to stop for lunch, gas, and of course the mandatory Parisian traffic jam (or so we heard). The schedule said that we were supposed to arrive around 6ish, but thankfully the venue didn't really care. They said that their clientèle was used to bands showing up late, and sure enough by the time our set started the room had about 35 people or so, which actually made it feel quite full.

Anyways, since Eman was sick, he couldn't sing at full strength. That, and the room was small and the sound system not so big. So we figure our best bet was to play an acoustic set, with mics on all the instruments, no backing tracks, acoustic guitar, and brushes on the drums. This turned out to work marvelously well, and the crowd really loved it, even those who know how we are supposed to sound normally (ie much louder). It turned out to be a very successful set. For instance, in Middlesbrough we had a crowd of over 100 and managed to sell 180 pounds worth of merchandise. In Karlsruhe we had about 35 and sold 165 euros worth. A very good night, for sure. They wouldn't let us leave the stage, so Emanuel had me play some Bach, and had Liz, our violinist, sing an Irish tune. All in all a fantastic evening. A perfect pick-me-up after the disaster that was Paris.

Day 11

Hello from Paris.

Yes, Paris.

The crepes here are magnificent.

Anyways, it's been a few days since my last post, and in that time I've been to the following cities: Manchester, Duisberg (Germany), Brussels, Antwerp, and then Paris.

The Manchester show was iffy. We basically drove 5 hours to play for a crowd of durnken Brits who didn't seem terribly interested in the music (they were the only crowd who didn't cheer long enough to warrant an encore). That being said, the guy who booked us there really liked us and seems interested in getting us back for some bigger shows that he books, so it wasn't a total loss. After the show we drove to a small town near Dover to stay for the night. It was a 4 and a half hour drive or so, so we didn't get in until about 5AM. The next day in England was supposed to be a heavy travel day, so we didn't want to risk missing our ferry.

So the next day we went to Dover for our 12PM ferry. Dover looks incredible, with the white cliffs towering overhead as you drive into town. Since we arrived early, getting through customs and ticketing was literally no problem whatsoever. And if I may say so, we were all quite happy to get the heck out of England. The people were great and very hospitable, and we ate very well there. Plus, I discovered that in the majority of their truck stops England has this wonderful little to-go grocery chain called M&S. It has excellent sandwiches and salads, fresh fruit, and deserts, all organic/free-range and for very reasonable prices. If America had something comparable I'm sure it would do very well; sure beats the hell out of McDonalds. But anyways, we were happy to leave England, and as we were pulling away from the coast I could see why. This dark cloud bank literally stretched as far as the eye could see, and stopped right at the coast. It was . . . vaguely creepy.

So we arrived in Calais and drove to Duisberg, about another 5 hours drive, near the city of Essen. Having left England we all felt better about life, despite the large amount of sleep deprivation. And I finally got my first taste of good German beer in Germany, and might i say it was worth the wait. Plus, the venue fed us dinner (and a lot of free German beer), found us a place to sleep, AND fed us breakfast in the morning, along with the fee they paid, so it worked out great for us. Plus the sound was excellent, the crowd friendly, and we sold a reasonable amount of CDs.

After Duisberg we went to Brussels to play in what our booker told us would be the best venue of the tour, and having played there I believe it. It was a huge, professional stage, and they treated us like rock stars, with a fully stocked green room and an excellent meal, and paid us 750 euros, one of our biggest guarantees of the tour. The crowd was tiny when we first looked out, but had grown to about 60 by the time we went on. They also bought a lot of our stuff, especially this family from Atlanta who had been looking for something to do while on Spring Break. The city itself, however, was a bit sketchy. There were signs everywhere warning of pickpockets, and our cameraman/driver Maik was actually attacked. The venue we were playing at was called Botanique, and it was actually a public garden with several venues inside (we assumed they were able to give us such a large guarantee because of government funding). So Maik was outside taking pictures of the garden, when he was approached by a group of men from North Africa. In his words, one of the men came up to him angrily demanding to see the camera, to make sure he was not in any of the pictures (they were large panoramic shots, so of course quite a few people were in the pictures, at least at a distance). Apparently the man then began hitting him and grabbing at the camera. Fortunately Maik is trained in Aikido, so was able to pretty much shrug off the attacks. He pulled out his cell phone and told them he was calling the police, at which point everyone scattered. The police didn't seem perturbed and even asked if his attacker was north african, and never bothered to show, since nothing had been taken and no one hurt. I guess this sort of thing is not uncommon in Brussels? After the show we went to Antwerp to spend the night, and we ended up staying up way too late drinking Belgian beer.

Yesterday we drove to Paris. Despite staying up so late the night before, we wanted to head out early so that we could at least see some of the city before the show. This perhaps was not the best of ideas, as Emanuel (and the rest of us) have all been coming down with a light cold. Not a problem for us, but definitely a problem for Emanuel, as he has to sing. At any rate, when we got to Paris we decided our best bet was to head to Sacre Couer, since, being on a hill, it promised the best views of the city, as well as being a gorgeous landmark in its own right. After Sacre Couer, we went back to the venue and did our soundcheck, at which point they fed us a small dinner. Afterwards, Emanuel went to take a nap while the rest of us went Crepe hunting. We managed to find a sign that said "Indian and Creperie"; we were all skeptical, but beggars can't be choosers (it was the only mention of crepes we had seen), so we went to check it out. The crepes turned out to be incredible (according to Gil the bass player, MUCH better than the ones at the tourist trap Sacre Couer). So now i have had an authentic Parisian crepe.

At this point we returned to the venue, and discovered Emanuel in poor shape, his voice largely gone. The show was then by far the worst set of the tour; the crowd was small (most had come to see the band before and then left when they were done), but that was a good thing, as Emanuel didn't have much of a voice, I had a spotlight in my eyes and couldn't see the music (thus playing the entire set from memory), and all of us had difficulties figuring out how to play given the voice issue. So yeah it was a pretty bad set and we were happy when it was over, but such things happen. We then went back to our host's flat, where we spent 30 minutes or so finding a parking spot.

I can't wait to get back to Germany tonight. We are planning on taking it easy at the show, maybe scaling back a few songs, and hopefully Emanuel will be better in a couple days. Tonight is Karlsruhe, Germany. It's 12 here and we have about 5 hours to drive, but we all needed the sleep. It's guaranteed we'll be quite late at this point, but the other venues we have played at haven't really cared much (or in some cases taken it for granted when we were late), so whatever.