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Friday - April 30 - Berlin (I Need More
Time)
Oh, God, it's that time again. Time to write another few paragraphs
about my life. The basic trouble with things at the moment is
though I'm having great fun - jetting and training it across the
world - I still end with absolutely nothing. Well, I get to pay
my rent (for a flat I never see), my phone bill (for a phone I
never use), etc., etc. Things could be worse but they could be,
oh, so much better.
Anyway I still get to see the world, see all the world and have
a good time and that's more than 99% of the world's population
get to do.
Back to yesterday and the customs search at Kyiv airport. I forgot
to mention that while I was trying to be helpful to the woman
who was going through my stuff, "Those are the dirty clothes...
and these are the clean clothes." I pulled my pretty heavy
bag up and managed to pull a muscle - or something - right where
I was badly bruised from the bunk incident of a few nights previous.
Since then it's been pretty agonising getting around. Even sleeping
last night was difficult as every position I lie in was uncomfortable.
But, relentless as ever I was up and out of the house before 9
this morning and off to one of Berlin's many Rathaus (Town Hall
to you and me, dear reader) to de-register. The Germans, most
nations actually, have this weird idea that when you move from
one town to another you should register with the authorities -
give them your new address, that kind of thing. Waste of time,
basically. Anyway I'm now officially de-registered, which seeing
as I've been in Germany for a total of one week in the past three
months or so and after Monday I won't be back for a while seems
a lot fairer and a lot better. I only registered in the first
place because that was the only way I could open a bank account
and insure a car. Strange folk.
Then off to the post office to pay a phone bill (well, I must
use it sometimes! 30 International calls and I was only here for
three or four days - if that...) and next month's rent and here
I am, flat broke, but still smiling. Well, not exactly flat broke
either. I just went to one of my favourite breakfast places -
it's called Yellow Submarine - on Weinerstrasse. The trouble is
everytime I go in there I try to speak to the waitress in German,
she replies in English to which I reply in English. She looks
confused and relapses into German.
The other best place for fruhstuck in these parts is Cafe Marx
on the little street between Weiner and Skalitzerstrasse.
Just remembered someone asked me for recommendations of places
to hang out in Berlin. Tonight I'd recommend The Junction Bar
on Gneisenaustrasse. I'll be there, John and Stephane will be
there... and we'll be playing.
My friend Herbert Jennissen, my hat maker from Augsburg, <http://www.hut-neubarth.de/html/hats_and_caps.html>
mailed me yesterday that Treasure Island has a 4 out of 5 star
review in the German edition of Rolling Stone. It's by Wolfgang
Doebling. It's a pity I didn't know it was going to be in so soon
as I would have been able to give Herr D. a copy of the revitalised
album to review. Then we'd definitely have got 5 out of 5. Now
I just have to find someone to translate it for me...
And now I'm off to Stephan Schmidt's so we can, at last, get the
artwork for Treasure Island finished and the thing out in the
shops and selling. And we did it
April 29 - Thursday - Praha Airport
Got the Prague Airport - five hours stopover - transit - internet
cafe blues.. So I thought rather than waste my time reading a
book or taking in the sights I could wisely spend my time (and
my money) at an computer here at Praha airport. Last night's gig
didn't happen, but as hardly anyone knew about it, it didn't really
matter. Zoryan and Co. were running round madly all day trying
to find parts of my possessions which had gone missing he previous
night. Guitar strap, guitar cable, poster for the Moscow gig,
clothes that had been washed - very necessary at his stage of
the game...
Olah, A and Natalia and me wandered round the streets, down the
Champs Elysees of Ternopil. Well, that's what my guide called
it. Very nice stroll down by the 'sea'. I'm definitely going to
return there whatever happens. As I kept on saying to all the
cool folks in town it'd be the perfect place to finish my book
(s). No real distractions...
Said goodbye to all at the train station and settled down to sleep...
Woke up this morning to the sight of hoarfrost heavy on the roofs
of village houses. Good tip for travelling by train - always travel
with a sober companion. You get a well-made bed and a goodnight's
sleep into the bargain... Mind you with the pretty useless keyboard
at Praha Airport's sole internet cafe -and the only functioning
computer in it- this came out as a 'well-mad bed' - which it wasn't.
I slept fine actually.
As did Natalia, my Ukrainian-speaking and very necessary travelling
companion. She slept head to the window - I slept toe to window
- and we both made the wise decision of not sleeping on double
mattresses on the top bunk. I realised after the event that that
was why I fell off my bunk on the Moscow - Ternopil train. The
mattresses had nothing to cling to save for themselves. Even on
the bottom bunk I almost slipped to the floor a few times that
reckless long ago night.
Arriving in Kyiv (as Ukrainians spell) Kiev. Mind you, it's their
language so however they want to spell the word must be right.
Natalia and I were met by Denis who pretty soon left to sleep.
I got taken on the Kyiv Metro - something anyone who suffers claustrophobia
should miss out on. At one point in the journey I felt I was being
choked... It was just the passengers unwittingly pulling at one
of my scarves as they pushed on and off the train.
Then we went to the main street of Kyiv. Very nice and all that,
but I prefer Ternopil. I like the place because it not a big,
bustling city - even with over 200,000 inhabitants - it's not
that mad. No traffic jams and the cars are mainly all so old and
wrecked and totally beautiful.
Then to Boryspil airport where, for the first time in years, I
got my bags searched. Memo to customs officers - cos they always
miss this one - the bit under the neck of the guitar isn't just
a support - it's also a compartment - and not a hidden one either.
Still, I had nothing to hide... Not like that NKVD guy I met the
other day...
Mr. Honea, once again:
"During World War II, NKVD units were used for rear area
security, including halting deserters. On 'liberated' territory
the NKVD and NKGB carried out mass arrest and deportations, at
times forcibly resettling entire populations (650,000+ Crimean
Tartars, Chechens, Ingush, and others) or significant parts (Lithuanians,
Poles) to Central Asia and Siberia. In 1946, the NKVD was transformed
into the MVD. The MVD in turn evolved into the KGB."
I doubt if I'd have been talking to him, well I probably would
have, if I'd realised the full-effect of the NKVD bit of his story.
And my questions would have been a lot different...
This computer is a disaster. That's your lot till I'm back in
Western Europe...
Wednesday - April 28 - Ternopil
Ternopil (correct Ukrainian spelling - Ternopol is the Russian
way of writing the name) is a beautiful place - far away from
the madness of Moscow. There, a twenty-minute journey can take
two hours due to the traffic. It made a nice change to be away
from the hustle and bustle of crazy, big-city life. Ternopil is
a city of around 220,000 these days. Yesterday's gig at The Dovzhenkoz
Centre of Youth Entertainment (REYVAKH!), here in funky-pretty
Ternopil was everything a gig should be. Apart from my breaking
a string during So Far, So Good, which really screwed up the version.
The audience were crazy-beautiful. Dancing, screaming, everything
you could want for... After the show was over we had to sign literally
hundreds of autographs. Most of the 500-strong audience wanted
a little piece of Dave and me to take home.
Earlier in the day I'd done a solo interview / acoustic performance
- I played a strange, and unrecorded, version - unless one of
the local populace taped it - of We're Still Alive - the song
I wrote on the train to the Ukraine and in my room at the Hotel
Ternopil. This was on Radio Ternopil. Complete with a maniac (in
the nicest way) presenter on auto-drive and Natalia (my biggest
Ukrainian fan) and Zoryan (promoter) translating... Pity it wasn't
taped.
If you go to: http://www.ternopil.ua/pics/old you can see some
pictures of the way the city was before the war. At the Battle
of Ternopil 39,000 of the cities 40,000 inhabitants were killed.
After last night's show I was shown a news-footage / propaganda
clip about the re-capture of the place. Typical war newsreel stuff.
Stirring patriotic call to the workers of the Soviet Union to
carry on resisting the German hordes. Guns were fired, rifles
were fired, buildings were blown up. You could tell it was all
re-enactment - good re-enactment - but still re-enactment - by
the fact that no return fire was ever given.
Today I might be playing a solo gig or I might have to catch the
train to Kiev with Natalia as my guide. An eight-hour journey,
the same one that Dave had to take last night after the Ternopil
show. His train left around half-two - he flies to Birmingham
with an eight-hour stopover at Frankfurt. I'll be heading back
to Berlin tomorrow either with my own personal eight-hour train
ride leaving at either 8pm or 2.30am depending on which flight
I happen to get. Either one over Budapest or over Prague. Been
to Praha airport before. Never flown into Budapest before...
If I do play tonight it'll be under the Hotel Ternopil - in the
bar there...
Oh, and a bit more from Mr.. Honea on the NKVD, "The NKVD
were the Soviet security police attached to the military. You
are right in that they were a SD or Gestapo of sorts. THEY WERE
NOT LOVED BY THE RED ARMY TROOPS BY ANY MEANS. Basically, they
sat behind their own advancing forces shooting in the back those
that lagged behind and executed deserters and ''cowards'' Highly
dubious organisation / individuals." Which being so I'm extremely
glad I didn't meet Mr.. Voronov during those days.
Jason also commented, "Picking off SS officers must / would
have been difficult. He was probably doing everything he could
to make sure that he didn't get picked of by his OWN troops .
But who knows at that stage of the war.... I'm sure SS snipers
were looking for his sort though. At Konigsberg there would have
been plenty of former Soviet citizen-SS types that would have
loved to get their hands on him or that lot."
I knew the NKVD part of the old gentleman's tale sounded a bit
strange... but it's a strange world... Fortunately or unfortunately...
Tuesday - April
27 - Ternopil, beautiful Ternopil
Jason Honea just wrote to me concerning yesterday's post, "He
means Konigsberg on the Baltic in East Prussia , now Poland ...
It was a really bad one and especially for the Russians. He was
NKVD ? That's kinds spooky.
I wrote back, "NKVD sniper - picking out the SS officers
apparently. Shooting from trees then scarpering ASAP. How spooky?
Kinda Soviet SS?"
As well as meeting the possible spooky Michail Dmitrievich Voronov
- a very nice chap whatever went down back then I also wrote a
song on the train to the Ukraine that same day called We're Still
Alive. The lyrics based on Dave and my conversations around the
bars of Moscow about how amazing it is that we both haven't died
ten times over.
And then we eventually in the gorgeous and beautiful city of Ternopil.
We were met by Zoryan and his gang of incredibly friendly folk.
Such a delightful place to end up, especially after the hustle
and bustle of Moscow. Moscow must be the biggest city in the whole
world. Biggest one I've ever been to. There's LA, but it's not
the same.
This is the kind of place I'd like to live... Especially if I'm
ever to get these books finished. Beautiful, funky, half broken-down
cars, trucks and buses. Amazing buildings, useless hotel bathrooms...
But a great place - and rent for a two - three room flat for around
$100 a month...
Dave will be arriving around 6 o'clock - assuming he gets his
mountain of pirate CDs through Ukrainian customs. I'm off to do
a radio interview, followed by a couple of TV ones.
More tomorrow... When I'll have time...
Monday - April
26 - From Russia With Love
Okay, I know the 'From Russia With Love' bit is a cliche but it
seems apt. Twenty hours on a train may not be to everyone's liking
but I had excellent company in the form of Denis from Rockmusic.Ru
and a few adventures - or rather misadventures. Unfortunately
I didn't have Daniela Bianchi, or even a Tatiana Romanov on the
train with me but then again there was no sign of Rosa Klebb (Lotte
Lenya) or Donald 'Red' Grant (Robert Shaw) either which was quite
a relief. But then ain't James Bond either… Or am I?
The Russian scenery is gorgeous. Sumptuous landscape for mile
after relentless mile. Denis I slumped off to the restaurant and
decided on a glass of vodka, followed by another and another,
and another. It was still daylight outside but the vodka was inside
and I thought it best to stop drinking and try sleeping. I fell
asleep almost straight away and then I fell off the bunk, hit
my head on a table and crashed to the floor. This was the top
bunk, by the way... It wasn't my fault... The mattresses were
really unstable and there was no little 'crash barrier' or whatever
it's called - 'safety rail', perhaps. I climbed back up the little
ladder thing and the same thing happened... Gave it a third try
and a few minutes later I came crashing to the floor.
At this point Denis decided to give me his lower bunk and I slept
the sleep of the bruised... And even on this lower bunk the mattress
was slipping and sliding - I almost fell to the floor a few more
times - but luckily managed to maintain my balance (and dignity)
a bit better this time.
The morning followed after I'd slept through the border - Denis
dealt with the border controls admirably... and he'd drunk as
much vodka as I had if not more. Waking up we went for a relaxed
breakfast of water and an orange... Which seemed far less disastrous...
Then we got into conversation - well Denis translated between
us - this 77-year-old chap, one Michail Dmitrievich Voronov. He'd
been in the Osobaja Ruta NKVD, wounded by a shrapnel bomb near
Kenigsberg (?), where ever that is... Fascinating stories... He
was one of the lucky ones who didn't get shipped off to the Gulags
by Stalin.
I was going to write more about the stories Michail told me but
I'm running out of time. I know Jason Honea would have loved to
meet him. Maybe I'll have time tomorrow.
The World Of Adventure gig was a gas. We both made mistakes -
some very noticeable - but the audience loved us anyway. We didn't
sell that much merchandising as we could have, but apart from
that it was a great evening.
And we didn't play another gig that night. But, hopefully I'll
be doing a solo show here in beautiful Ternopol. Dave should have
done a solo gig last night in Moscow. He wasn't on the train due
to Ukrainian visa problems. He'll be arriving here in the early
morning by plane.
Saturday - April
24 - Moscow
Sleep, sleep, sleep... That was what Dave and me both needed...
But, of course, we didn't get enough by far. My first site of
Mr. Kusworth was seeing him languidly (as always) draped across
a chair in the 'dressing room' at The World Of Adventure where
we'd been taken for a press conference. The only trouble was that
at the last moment Pink (Pink!) had arranged another press bash
somewhere else in town and most of the journalists had decided
she was more newsworthy than us... Totally crazy idea, but then
Moscow is a pretty crazy town.
We've played two gigs here so far - the first one, at the Central
House of Artists where John, Stephane and I played in December…
and a second (surprise) gig at Sexton. Well the second show was
a surprise for Dave and me. Sexton is a kind of biker / goth club
/ bar. Great place! Good food, good drink, cool clientele. The
third (official second one) is tonight.
Dave and I are getting on great - to me it feels like the early
Jacobites days in Dave and Lesley's (his ex-wife) house in Bryant
Street in Birmingham's Winson Green. That kind of atmosphere.
I think (hope) Dave feels the same. I'll have to ask him when
we meet up at today's soundcheck which is in forty minutes…
The press-conference… Some interesting questions… Most
of which I can't remember but we got some laughs with our answers
and some thoughtful looks from some of the others. After that
we played a short - three song set. Started of with So Far, So
Good which is sounding better every time. Then Pin Your Heart
and finished with Fortune Of Fame. Quick meal then off to the
Central House of Artists for the real soundcheck and the real
gig.
The gig was great. Everything a gig should be. At first I couldn't
hear my guitar through the monitors but after a couple of songs
that got sorted out. The show was recorded (and filmed) - the
audience loved it and so did we. Tonight's gig will also be recorded
and we hope to get a Jacobites' Live In Moscow album out of this
particular adventure.
It had slipped my mind - and obviously Dave's as well - that this
day was the anniversary of Johnny Thunders <http://www.jungle-records.demon.co.uk/bands/johnnyt.htm>
death in New Orleans, at the St. Peter House, Room 37, at the
far, far too early age of 38. Johnny was a good friend of mine
and I miss him a lot. At the Sexton show, for the first time in
our lives, Dave and I played a joint version of Johnny's classic
ballad, You Can't Put You Arms Round A Memory. We've both played
the song on our own many times but we've never done it together.
Johnny must have been floating round the room. The inspiration
definitely came from somewhere. And Johnny's name came up in our
various conversations during the day and the evening. And I think
we mentioned him at the press junket. We also played a version
of Ronnie Lane's Debris and, at long last, Ooh La La..
Now I'm back off to The World Of Adventure for lunch, soundcheck
and then some much-needed clothes, jewellery and scarf shopping.
There'll probably be another secret gig tonight. But we won't
know where till we're doing it.
Stay bruised and stay beautiful… See ya whenever… You
should be here in Moscow.
Thursday - April
22 - Moscow
4.35am: Sitting on Hermannplatz U-Bahn station after another night
without sleep! Left Axl van Windhook sleeping in my bed while
I persevered my way to the 129 bus stop with two bags and a guitar
in tow. But I've done this so many times before. I could have
done with a hand to the bus, could have done with a taxi but finances
won't allow such luxuries.
Now I'm waiting at Berlin's Tegel Airport for my plane. Delayed
from 6.55 till 8.10. Nice of Germania Express to let me know...
The plane, of course, was delayed by almost two hours. I arrived
at Tegel in good time - in very good time - for the 6.55 departure.
There was nothing up on any of the flight boards - no indication
that any plane would actually fly to Moscow that day. I asked
at the information desk and was told to go to check in No. 1.
I went there and was told to go to check in No. 20. I went there
and was told to go back to No. 1. I went and had a fresh-squeezed
orange juice and a smoke or two and waited for some sanity to
hit the terminal. Eventually the plane left from Gate No. 1 at
8.10! I could have grabbed some sleep… Travel ain't always
all it's cracked up to be...
I finally arrived in Russia. After yet another night with no sleep...
When I was 28 I thought, "Great, I'll never have to spend
another night without sleeping!' I think I was several centuries
out there. You do get used to it... But it's still a trial.
So last night Stephan Schmidt and I spent around eight or nine
hours working on the Treasure Island artwork... I finally arrived
home around midnight and decided there was no point going to sleep.
Not with my plane supposed to be leaving around 7am. As it was
it didn't actually take off until after 8 o'clock in the morning!
Kept on looking at the cover - called up Dave McNarie and asked
what he thought. He told me and I agreed, and still agree, that
he was right. So I mailed Stephan straight away... As of yet -
16 hours and a few countries away no response at all...
I was going to write up yesterday's misadventures but I guess
you're going to have to wait for the autobiography for those.
Suffice to say my day was relentless. Arrived back in Berlin early
morning after a couple of hour's kip on the train. Decided there
was no point in sleeping as I had to be at the Russian Embassy
at 9am to try and get my visa. I succeeded and then, with a hop,
skip and a jump trailed up to Albrecht Strasse and the Ukrainian
Embassy. This was a breeze compared to the bureaucracy contained
inside the Russian one…
By midday I was free. Axl van Windhook and I walked downtown and
then had a quick snack and then I went off to Stephan's to continue
with the Treasure Island artwork. 99% of it is right, there's
just a few small details that need changing. Last minute thoughts
are often the best...
Arriving in Moscow I was met by two girls from Rockmusic.Ru magazine.
Taken to a flat for a very enjoyable - and necessary meal. Then
a few hours much-needed sleep... Now I'm in the Rockmusic.Ru offices.
About to go off for a meal with Grigory and Co.
Wednesday - April
21 - Berlin - Wednesday Went Off Somewhere
This was one crazy day…
On the train from Koln to Berlin the first part went well enough.
By confusing the conductor I managed to inadvertently escape getting
my ticket stamped. The confusing was managed by my trying to change
compartments from the one I was booked in. When I bought the ticket
I hadn't even realised that a couchette was included in the price.
But it was and was scheduled to share with an elderly German couple.
I tried to avoid this - leave them some privacy and myself some
space - and asked the guard if it would be possible to change
compartments. At first he was a bit vague but half an hour later
he was definite that such an action was impossible. "But
there are empty compartments all over the train," I argued.
"They might," note the use of the word might, "They
might be filled," was his stoic answer.
I attempted to open the door of the couchette and gain entry to
my sleeping-berth for the night. The elderly Germans had bolted
the door on the inside. The conductor / guard knocked loudly and
eventually they opened up. I piled my luggage from the still empty
preferred space to the unpreferred enclosure and climbed up in
my bunk. They'd switched the light off earlier and weren't about
to turn it back on for a Tommy - that was clear…
A few seconds later the now grumpy pair of old Krauts were complaining…
in German. My German isn't up too much but I could still understand
them. "You can't leave that stuff on the floor. One of us
might want get up during the night and use the toilet…"
the old gentleman spouted. I was forced to pile most of my four
pieces of luggage up on my bunk and my guitar under the two ground-floor
bunks. Then I climbed the ladder and tried to arrange myself around
the bags that now festooned my bed. Luckily I found space above
the door where the baggage could actually go.
My travelling companions soon began snoring and continued on this
level for the rest of the night. I tried to sleep for an hour
or so then got up and ventured up to one of the guards and bought
a couple of small bottles of wine. I found a smoking carriage
and sat there and smoked and drank until weariness hit me with
it's waves. I put out my final fag of the night and crawled back
to my bunk. The Krauts were still happily in the land of nod as
they would be three or four hours later when I departed the train.
Arrived back at Ostbahnhof at 5.10am. Taxi home - no more sleep.
Cup of tea and checked my emails… The computer is more or
less dying! Called Axl at 8am and we met at Gorlitzerstra?e U-Bahn
to go to first the Russian and then the Ukrainian embassies…
Arriving at the Russian Embassy 20 mins before it opened we found
that 30 or 40 people were already queuing at the back door for
visas. The embassy fronts onto the Unter den Linden but the back
door is good enough for the like of us. It was a bit like being
in the queue to get in the front row of a Stones' gig except this
venture was even more expensive. 155 Euros for a double entry
visa. Thinking it would be safer I'd put on my application form
that I was a music journalist - I was told that visas for journalists
took two weeks to process.
So I changed my claim and told them I was really a musician and
that the only magazines I wrote for were ones that didn't pay…
They probably thought I was an anarchist. The girl behind the
glass-screened desk said her boss had to decide - I had to wait
an extra forty minutes until my change of career was accepted.
155 Euros and half an hour later I was out of the Russian Embassy
and Axl and I walked to Freidrichstra?e and after crossing the
River Spree we found Albrechtstra?e, home of the Ukrainian Embassy.
This second former Soviet embassy was a lot more casual - still
a rip off as I had to pay 100 Euros + 3 Euros bank commission.
But by 12.30 the mission was accomplished and two visas filled
my passport. Axl had been hanging around for almost four hours
- I hadn't been allowed to take a bag into the Russian Embassy
so he'd had to hang around on the street outside taking charge.
By way of recompense we picked up a couple of bags of downtown
on the way back to my place where Axl was at last able to have
a much-needed shower and to wash his clothes.
I cooked some food - rice with tomatoes and stuff - we ate it
and then I set off for the postbank and then Stephan Schmidt's
sixth floor flat in the Blucherstra?e. First we worked on the
blues adverts so lovingly and painstakingly put together by Hadley
Northrop and Sean Vallely. This was a painstaking task as they
hadn't made some of the final changes - either that or they'd
inadvertently sent an earlier unrevised version of some of the
pages. Epic was listed twice as playing organ solos - I wanted
to change one credit to Kevin Junior but it wasn't possible…
Instead we wiped one of them out with a black border - quite appropriate
really - and then we continued with the work in progress.
After a brief meal break for some of Arianne's homemade asparagus
soup we continued until 10pm. Seven hours of more or less non-stop
work.
At some point of the evening I wrote up my entire trials and tribulations
of the day - tried to submit it to my online journal and the computer
crashed. An hour's work gone to rack and ruin!
Eventually we finished… I arrived home to find Dave McNarie's
mail saying that he still didn't like the cover artwork. So after
a while I called him and we discussed matters. He suggested the
lettering be the colour of and old map… I said I thought
the skull and crossed cutlasses should go. I've never had such
trouble with an album sleeve before. I sent Stephan a quick mail
suggesting what Dave and I had discussed and later another one
from Tegel saying the text should look like parchment. I think
it should have a weave in it like the map on the back cover.
I wrote everything up and the damned computer crashed just when
I tried to send it...
So I've written everything up in my notebook / songbook... And
when I get to Moscow you'll get the whole story.
Tuesday - April
20 - Bruxelles Midi (Railway Station)
Not much time. Well, too much time. Because of my return rooting
from Vigo to Berlin I've managed to end up here in this internet
cafe at Bruxelles Midi Station with three or four hours to kill.
I should have been back in Berlin this evening - but because it
took half an hour or more to locate my guitar at Brussels Airport
I missed the connection. Now I'll get back home at about 5 in
the morning!
No sleep - unless I sleep on the train - and then off to the Russian
and Ukrainian embassies to track down these elusive visas. What
a romantic life! It could be a lot worse but then again it could
be a lot, lot better... And if I can't get the visas then I can't
even get on the plane, let alone into the country.
So yesterday's Akanteira radio show at Radio Ecca (96.5FM) was
good fun. I played Horse Blues, The Last Flash Of The Cavalier
Nation, Road Of Broken Dreams, Pirate Girls and a new song that
I'd started writing in Curcuma, the vegetarian place with the
excellent soya burgers. I had two verses scrawled on the back
of an envelope and thought I might as well be clever and show
off... that kind of thing...
Jose Otero, the disc-jockey of the show was saying something along
the lines of, "Nikki, you're such a great songwriter...."
He was obviously a fan.... "You have to keep living for many
years to give the world many more of your beautiful songs..."
So I just put the capo on the third fret - always a good move
- just move up a fret or two and the same old chords sound different.
Well, kind of... So I did this one in Eb.
Sung the first scribbled verse, made up a chorus. Quite a good
one considering. Sang the second verse, repeated (approximately)
the chorus. Did a bit of strumming / doodling. Came up with a
third verse based on something I'd written on a place mat at the
Rousseau restaurant near Santi's place the previous night. Another
chorus and out. And it's on tape... So that's another one for
the box set. It was kind of okay anyway...
Then soundcheck at Golem, across the street from Santi's old bar,
Hanoi. Just down the street from La Casa De Arriba, the first
show I played in Galicia. The owner of La Casa stormed into Golem
as we were about to set up the PA and proceeded to go mad. Shouting
and ranting in Spanish! Total idiot! Anyway after a while his
bile got the better of him and he disappeared back up the hill
to his club. Strange bloke!
The gig was good fun and very well received. The trouble was that
there was hardly a soul there. Santi, Louie, Maite, Ruben and
his girlfriend Andi. Santi's old Hanoi partner, Carlos. Ruben's
brother, bar-owner, Nelson and the third brother... Two or three
more souls I didn't know and that was it. I sang the first song,
Horse Blues, through the PA and then just unplugged it and did
the rest of the show totally unplugged. Good fun... Pity there
weren't more there, but you can't have everything...
Santi and I set off for Vigo's Peinador Aeropuerto at an ungodly
hour and sat in the newly re-christened (by us) Pablo Esco Bar
(Pablo Escobar - the king of Columbia) and drank a glass or two
of Faustino vino tinto. Then I got on the plane to Madrid. Sat
there for a couple of hours and ended up her on Bruxelles railway
station. Waiting For A Train. I think Jimmie Rogers wrote that,
Jerry Lee did a version or two. Great song.
Yes, I was right. Just went to www.jimmierodgers.com and found
out the details: VE 47223-4 Waiting For A Train - February 8,
1929 (Jimmie Rodgers). Good song. Check it out....
Monday - April
19 - Swinging Chicks and Conquistadores
Santi and I were having lunch at the vegetarian restaurant here
in Vigo and discussing our favourite actresses.
Mine are:
Claudia Cardinale (Well...)
Brigitte Bardot (Take one guess)
Lesley-Anne Down (But ev'ryone was in love with her back then...
I think Tyla even wrote a song about her… If he didn't he
should have…)
Shirley Eaton (Goldfinger, but better still in all those English
film comedies - when the English cinema still really existed...)
Marianne Faithfull (Of course...)
Anita Pallenberg (But, of course)
Julie Andrews (Mary Poppins, The Sound Of Music)
Jane Fonda (Barbarella, Klute)
Shirley Maclaine (Especially in Irma la Douce!)
Hayley Mills (How could anyone of my generation not have fallen
in love with her?)
Marilyn Monroe (For Some Like It Hot, if nothing else...)
Carroll Baker and Jean Harlow and Kim Novak (Sometimes)
Kay Kendall (For Genevieve with the brilliant Kenneth More)
Jane Seymour (Because of Live and Let Die, my favourite Bond movie
ever. Roger Moore as Bond and JS as Solitaire)
Liza Minelli (Because of Cabaret! That one film is enough for
glory!)
Ingrid Pitt (Where Eagles Dare - possibly my favourite film ever...)
Susannah York (In The Battle Of Britain! Wow!)
Jenny Agutter (But wasn't everyone? For Bobbie in The Railway
Children if for nothing else…)
Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra and all the other films she made with
Richard Burton - The Taming Of The Shrew, Who's Afraid of Virginia
Woolf? And others…)
Sally Thomsett (Man About The House and The Railway Children)
Well, there's a load more of them... But that's all I can remember
at the moment and it's time to leave for my 5pm session at Radio
Ecca...
Sunday - April
18 - Namedropping In Tui
Mini Moog was yet another cool club. Owner was called Beni. We
met and went for a great sandwich. One of the best ever English
inventions. But you must know that story and I have no time to
tell it because Santi and I have to go and meet Maite and an Australian
friend for dinner at Rousseau in less than an hour.
So you find me back in Tui - a town celebrating the end of a two
week festival / feast. As Maite put it, "Full of bumpkin
farmers!" And she is right. Traffic jams line the town from
East to West, from North to South. And if it wasn't for you, dear
readers, Santi and I wouldn't have had to brave the idiots and
chumps who are busy lining the streets looking for a good time
despite everything.
Playing in Austin, Texas one time a few years back I described
Sixth Street (6th St.) as, "Full of people desperate to have
a good time no matter how drunk and stupid they had to become
to do so." It's not that bad here. The Spaniards, or rather
the Galicians have a bit more dignity. Well, it comes of having
a bit more of a culture, I suppose.
Today, I'm at a bit of a loss of what to write. Honey Baby, the
Mika Kaurismaki film which I did the bulk of the soundtrack for
seems to be premiering at a whole bundle of world-wide festivals.
And Egoshooter, the Oliver Schwabe and Christian Becker film that
I play 'Nikki Sudden' in will also be premiering soon. So it looks
as though my summer will be as busy as my spring. And I couldn't
really want it any other way. And Italian publishers Thomas and
Simone from Fazi Publishing seem to want me to write a book. A
kind of my version of Ian Hunter's Diary of a Rock and Roll Star.
It's a tempting idea. But it'd be a hard book to match. I bought
it when it was first published in 1974 (?) and loved every word
of it. The only thing I found hard to comprehend was that Mott
The Hoople seemed to spend a load of time going to pawn [porn]
stores looking for cheap guitars. Even in my tender years I'd
heard of porn shops... but pawnbrokers was a very Dickensian idea.
I met Ian Hunter twice. The second time was at Quasimodo in Berlin
when Darrell Bath was playing guitar for him. And he, Mr. 'Untah,
said to me, "Your hair looks really cool!" God what
a compliment. It's a bit like the time when I met Paul Rodgers
at a Radio One session. I was wearing a white silk scarf (as one
does). But at one point PR turned to me and said, "You know
it's weird, but every time I come in here (the control room) and
see you I think you're Jimmy Page!" Bloody hell! I was in
heaven for a while. Paul Rodgers was a real gentleman as was Ian
Hunter. As was Mr. Jimmy Page himself when I met him.
But that's enough namedropping for one day. We can't all be Ronnie
Wood now, can we?
Saturday - April
17 - Lalin - Pirates and Chiffon Dresses
Of course, I found out the town was called Lalin and not Lalin
about 10 kms outside the place. Nice bar, the Barriga Verde, nice
owner, Carlos Monti, nice crowd - just far too few of them. But
I played - half cover versions - this was Carlos' idea - and half
NS originals.
Started with Flower Bed Romance - couldn't remember the words
at first but they slipped back in just in time - well, most of
them... Then Bob Dylan's She Belongs To Me. Carried on with a
bundle of my own songs and some regular crowd pleasers. Well,
songs they should know: One Inch Rock, I Love To Boogie and Get
It On by Marc Bolan. Handful of Stones' numbers. Troy Seals &
Donnie Frits' ethereal We Had It All - which I doubt anyone in
the place save for Santi and me knew.
And I played the live debut of Slave Trade. That one's for you
Loukia - seeing how you said you liked the lyrics.
Well as they say, "Another day, another dollar..." Except
it should read, "Another gig, another handful of Euros..."
Even sold four CDs - which for this part of Spain is a near miracle.
Most of them got traded for the usual powders but I still walked
out of Barriga Verde richer than I walked in.
On the way to the restaurant for food I saw this great €40
Pirate set. Galleon, pirates, jolly rogers, the lot. I thought
I have to buy it... Trouble is the shops in this benighted country
close from midday till around 4.30. Trouble is how can I get the
thing back to Germany. It's a big thing!
And a beautiful chiffon dress or two. I thought, "There's
something someone I know would like..." But she's not here,
and I'm not there... So maybe I'll just buy the pirate set instead.
Next Santi and I are off to Santiago de Compestala to try and
buy a scarf. I got the one I wear on the cover of Treasure Island
there... But I lost it the same day as the first album cover photo
session. See the journal entry for November 19 2003 for further
details.
On the way to dinner with Mika Kaurismaki - somewhere between
Kollwitzstrasse U-Bahn station and the restaurant - it fell on
the street. Some lucky Berliner probably found it and wrapped
it round his neck and walked off thinking, "Hey! Now I look
just like Nikki Sudden!" Either that or some Turkish woman
found it and wrapped it round her face in preparation for the
forthcoming dust storm.
The time before when I'd met Mika in the same part of Berlin,
Mitte, I left my chromatic guitar tuner and the three CDRs of
the as yet unreleased Nikki Sudden / Phil Shoenfelt album, Golden
Vanity, on the roof of my car. When I got back a few hours later
someone had half-inched them. The only copies - apart from the
DAT masters and the multi-tracks. But my only listening copies!
As Mika said, "Maybe we shouldn't meet in Mitte again."
I don't think we have done since...
And tonight's gig a the Mini Moog in Caldas De Reis should be
a groove. A cheap one at that. Admission is €2! Which is
pretty ridiculous... I'll tell you more about that one tomorrow.
Another day, another silver dollar... And the spurs on my boot
heels go jangling down the street...
Friday - April
16 - Unlucky Luke and Rowland Howard
Went out last night. First stop was Golem, the last minute addition
to this strange Galician tour for a few drinks with Maite and
Ruben. Golem was having an evening of low budget movies - in Spanish!
Obviously! Maite and I stuck out three quite amusing films before
leaving for another bar. Apparently it was an 'Irish' pub. But
it definitely wasn't. I felt a bit like Ian McLagan in part two
of Dave McNarie's Rise & Shine! track-by-track interview.
Check it out at<http://www.ianmclagan.com/audio> I least
I wasn't drinking on my own. "Solitary drinking, it's awful!"
as Mac puts it.
Then we went across the road to yet another bar. This looked more
promising as a band were set up on the pretty basic stage. We
stuck around - then they came on. God what a shower! Bassist with
no hair, just a really ridiculous beard and his bass way up too
high. You know the sort. Guitarist had a neat looking guitar but
once again far too short a strap. The Hammond player looked (and
played) really well and the drummer was okay. But the music was
awful. Forget it. I'd rather see a band than do most things. But
two songs were all we could stand.
We went round the corner to Lucky Luke's - which last time I was
here - 18 months back - was a really cool bar. Unfortunately the
previous owner was a bit of a gambler - slight understatement
here - and gambled away the bar. Last time I was in the place
I ended up playing records - generally taking over the bar. We
walked in and as with 99% of Spanish and Portuguese bars there
was a TV on. Two actually. I asked if they could turn them off.
Asked reasonably politely as well... The barkeeper just said,
"No!" We walked out and back to the second bar.
There were a couple of pretty strange guys in there this time.
They insisted on buying Maite and me a drink or two and promised
they'd come to see me at Golem on Monday. They probably will as
well.
Then I went home. Fell asleep at the kitchen table at Louie Louie's
talking with Santi but woke up in bed four hours later.
I've been trying to get in touch with Rowland Howard for a long
time now. I actually tracked him down shortly before the reissue
of Kiss You Kidnapped Charabanc - first time we'd talked since
he left London for Melbourne in the early nineties. I asked him
if he wanted to help out with the sleeve notes. He said he'd fax
some to me the next day. Nothing ever came.
Finally Conrad Standish from The Devastations, the band who metamorphosed
from Luxedo who I saw one night some years ago at Tacheles in
Berlin gave me Rowland's current number and I called him this
morning. Good to finally talk after so long. Rowland will be touring
Europe this year with The Devastations backing him...
The first Devastations gig was played in September 2002. Rowland
was moved enough to write an insightful and lengthy article about
the band in the Australian press, as well as join the band from
time to time onstage. If you want to read what Rowland wrote (and
you should) check it out at http://www.burning-heart.net/rshdevastationsint.html
No time for more... Off to Lalin and further misadventures.
Thursday - April
15 - Vigo - Pieces Of History
Some days I just haven't got the time, or the inclination to write
anything. Yesterday was one of those days. I spent three hours
in an Internet cafe in Tui - half of them answering 37 questions
sent to me by Japanese magazine, After Hours. And I still have
another 16 or 17 to do today. Anyway today I have a bit more time
at my leisure - and a free internet connection - so you'll get
a bit more...
Tuy is the Spanish spelling of the town's name, but seeing how
we're in Galicia, I prefer to use the Galician version - Tui.
As much as anything because it sounds and looks far cooler!
First a bit of a history lesson which I've excerpted from Charles
Esdaile's great book, The Peninsular War:
March 1809...
"The most important part of Napoleon's plan for the conquest
of the Peninsula had effectively stalled. In the north the first
priority was the subjugation of Galicia, but despite Marshal Ney's
best efforts, the revolt there proved impossible to put down.
With only 17,000 men, he had from the first to abandon any hope
of garrisoning the entire province and chose to hold major towns
such as Villafranca, Lugo, Santiago, El Ferrol and La Coruna,
whilst dividing the rest of his forces into mobile columns that
kept open communications between the various bases and struck
out in all directions, hunting down the alarmas, burning villages,
taking hostages and inflicting terrible atrocities upon the unfortunate
populace.
"Yet the insurgents were rarely caught by the French columns
and frequently inflicted numerous casualties on them, whilst every
act of punishment or reprisal simply created fresh insurgents.
Still worse, the French actually lost ground. Protected by blockade
by the flying columns, the towns held by Ney's troops were safe
enough, but, far to the south-west, the situation of Tui and Vigo
was different.
"Held by invalids and other troops dropped off by Marshal
Soult and completely out of touch with Ney, the two towns had
quickly been surrounded in an attempt to starve them into submission.
In the end Tui's defenders were evacuated by troops sent up from
Opporto by Soult, but on 27 March Vigo surrendered when the British
landed some naval cannon and breached the main gate."
Esdaile continues his history of the Peninsular War for a further
500 fascinating pages - but this is part of the book that refers
to this part of Galicia where I seem to be spending my time. One
of the great things about being alive is the feeling of history
that can be there with every step you take. And here, particularly
outside the cities and towns, the sense of history is very great
indeed. Apart from the plethora of ugly new buildings that have
sprung up everywhere in the world since the Hitler War - and has
there been an attractive building built in the past sixty years?
If there is one I've never seen it.
Back in 1978 when Epic and my parents moved from Solihull where
we'd been living since 1964 or so, having moved up to the town
in the south of Birmingham from London. They looked at a lot of
properties in the area of Leamington Spa, where my father was
taking a new job. One of the places they saw was described as
a beautiful Twelfth century farmhouse. They did think about buying
it but my mother decided, "It would take too much work to
keep clean..." They opted for a six or seven year old house
in the village of Harbury instead! This has always baffled me...
Why live somewhere new when you can be living in history? My bed
in Berlin is 100 years old - new mattress - but the frame is old.
I have the most fantastic dreams and sleep well in the bed...
because it's lived, it's seen things and is still seeing them.
Likewise the building I live in is a good century old - one of
the many one's that the allies must have missed in their target
bombing of the German capital. The front house of the building
got hit but the back courtyard, the hinterhof as the Germans call
it got missed. Otherwise I might be homeless.
Next week I'll be back there for two nights... Then it's off to
Moscow and the Ukraine. Maybe you'll get some more from me tomorrow
but until then walk carefully 'cos you could be walking on history....
Tuesday - April
13 - Vigo (Spain, Galicia actually)
I don't know how many of you used to get Cheapside - the intermittent
Nikki Sudden / Jacobites newsletter that we used to send out during
the '90's? Probably quite a lot of you. Quite often people ask
me why we never send copies out anymore. The answer is obvious...
It's because nikkisudden.com and davekusworth.com have both taken
over. Technology, much as I loath so very much of it, still can
make things go a lot faster and a lot easier.
Imagine having to first write four or five pages - well, you still
have to do that even with computers - then go and get them photocopied.
Staple them all. Fold them all. Put them all into envelopes. Address
all the envelopes - a thankless task. And then take them down
to the post office and buy countless stamps. Stick all the stamps
on the envelopes and then tip them into the post box.
And then, and then... A whole load of newsletters - on average
about 20 - out of 2-300 posted out always came back. People moving
and not bothering to tell us. So that's why there's no more copies
of Cheapside coming your way.
We used to sell a bundle of merchandise from each mail out - at
least enough to cover the postage... But you can get stuff direct
from me at: http://nikkisudden.com/merch/index.htm if you really
want to.
One thing I have to do is to set up a credit card processing link
so that if you order stuff it'll just go off your credit card
and into my bank account. At present when people want to buy stuff
I have to get them to send dollars to a US address, Euros to a
European one or UK cheques to an English address. It'd be a lot
easier to get it all simplified. But I haven't the time, or more
important, the know-how to get these things set up.
Maybe I'm just being a bit too lazy. I can write songs.... That's
a piece of cake... Write articles for assorted magazines... Also
not too difficult. I can also cook, read books and have impeccable
dress sense. But apart from that I can't even put a shelf up.
I know how to play guitar - to some degree - but as to how they
work... I haven't the foggiest. When I bought my first electric
guitar, in 1972, I couldn't work out why there was no mains lead
on it! An electric guitar, but no electricity. I still don't understand
how the bloody things work. I'm just glad they do. Practicality
isn't my first priority.
What I'll probably get Dimitris to do one day is to put all the
back copies of Cheapside up on line so you can read some of my
earlier ramblings.
How's that for a coherent journal report? Must be the great meal
I just had in one of Vigo's three (three!) vegetarian restaurants,
Curcuma. Great food! Best I've eaten in this country. The trouble
was is it was also the biggest meal I've eaten in the past four
of five months - since I was last at my folks' place in England...
I have to go back there after Italy for a few days in WSRS with
John Rivers... So I'd better get in training. Mind you yesterday
I didn't really eat a thing...
Monday - April
12 - Tui (by the Portuguese border)
Well, thankfully, things calmed down quite a bit over the past
few days. Refreshments were still taken (I'm being as honest as
I can here, Dave) but not as recklessly as they have been at times.
The last two nights I got to sleep at around dawn, well within
an hour or so. Which is a big improvement on 4 or 5 the following
afternoon as it was after the first two Spanish shows!
So where have I been? Well, I've been to Portugal three times
in the past two days! Portugal is about a five-minute drive from
Tui, which is where you find me now. Half an hour from Vigo. And,
of course, you get good port there.
Saturday's gig at the Taberna Marrucho in Baiona promised great
disaster... But turned out amazingly well. We arrived at 8pm as
instructed to find no pa there, just a half-full bar. An hour
later a scruffy looking Spanish type turned up with a microphone
stand (broken), microphone and the basic components of a pa. Then
he left, saying he hadn't the time to put it up. Santi tried to
great avail but we couldn't get a peep out of the system. I wasn't
playing until midnight - after some football match ended. We gave
up and went for a meal.
The basic trouble with eating in this benighted but glorious country
is that they can't really comprehend the idea of vegetarians.
Meat, meat and more meat are the order of the day... And sometimes
it gets bit boring eating the few vegetables that the Spanish
and Portuguese consider worth cooking. But I'm still alive...Which
is probably the most important part. Some might argue otherwise,
but that's their problem...
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