Season Opener
The summer touring season is upon us again. Why, it only seems like last summer where we got to experience the hospitality of western Europe. Already this year we’ve seen such exotic locales as Russia, Morocco, Tunisia and port of call Bayonne, New Jersey (Joisey, what exit?). This year the season starts somewhat bittersweet. Still in search of the elusive (for me, anyway) big time house gig in the “Entertainment Capital of the World” ™ I enter each new touring leg knowing that it could very well be the last in a career that has treated me well. For the last almost 30 years I haven’t had to have a real job, save for the time I spent with my crazy uncle Kenny trying to be dot com moguls. It was about six years ago, ironically with the same jazz singer I’m currently with that on the beach in Nice (break out the atlas, kids) I was convinced that touring was evil and I hated it. It took about two and half years doing something else full time to appreciate what I had. It actually only took about six months. I say this not so we can get all misty eyed in a drunken “I love you man” hugfest, but to remind my peers how good we have it. We are paid a lot of money, to do something that some people pay money to do.
About the time the sun rises above the Strip tomarrow morning I’ll board one of Theodore’s flights (you can call him Ted) to rendevouz with the rest of the gang for a short jaunt to Mexico City. It’s likely I’ll see some of my pals from the dates I did down there that were chronicled on these pages as it’s the same production vendors. From there we’re on to other exotic, third world locations such as Memphis and Toledo before heading to Europe proper. I’d like to apologise for the “third world” comment. I don’t consider the part of Mexico we’re going to third world. We’ll start the Euro jaunt in Azerbijain (really break out the atlas this time, kids), before moving to other parts of the former east and then to western Europe to do the big time jazz fest scene. Apparently, our requirements are that if you haven’t had an insurection or coup in the last few years, we’ll gladly bring the jazz show to your town.
We’ll make an appearance on the Lake Geneva shoreline at the venue that once “some stupid with a flare gun, burned the place to the ground”. And of course, when we’re there, we’ll “make records with a mobile”. I don’t think we have much time. This year it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to attend “Funky Claude’s” party at his castle. (yes, Claude is a real person, that lives in a castle) I think it’s a bit to call it a “jazz festival” these days as the real jazz acts are now relagated to what I think is a C stage in the “burned down the gambling house”. Back in the day we were in the two big rooms (this will be my sixth appearance at this gig) but now they should call this a music festival, not so much a “jazz” festival in this quaint little Swiss town. The irony is, the lyrics I riffed for the musical reference in the above paragraph are from a band that will be at this festival, in one of the main rooms. Sadly, Frank Zappa and the Mothers won’t.
On previous trips I’ve covered them with videos and blogging with an occasional moblog, or post from the camera on my mobile. (that’s a cell phone, for you septics…) I’d planned to moblog Euro 2k5 but limitations in my hardware and roaming agreements made that not possible. In other words, it was Cingular’s fault. This year, thanks to my new international roaming account, a fist full of euro SIMS, Flickr and a new HTC Wizard I’ll be able to moblog in real time. I can’t guarantee that you will find it interesting, but it will be what I’m seeing when I’m out doing whatever it is that us roadies do.
May 29th, 2006 at 8:30 am
Is “Funky Claude” the dude that had a robot made to fetch records from the huge collection of LPs that he keeps at his castle?