wrapped up and stung

Reading back through the entries here I realize there are about a million other details I didn't put in, little things I wanted to include but either I forgot or was too tired/crazy/buzzed to remember at the time. The urge initially was to go through and edit all the entries where I wanted to update the information but who has time for that? Now that I am back in the life full swing I just can't see that ever happening so instead I want to do a brief addendum. There are a few distinct thought I have that gave me no small measure of excitement and hope while I was playing, things that were incredible and sometimes very minor that spoke of cultural differences and attitudes. One thought that struck me was that there was very little of the institutionalized indifference at the shows we played that seems to be so common among many venues I have played in the states. This idea that if you express your excitement and feelings of enjoyment while watching a band or viewing art that you must not be 'cool'. I was overwhelmed at the sincere and direct way that the audiences would tell us (for positive or negative) what they liked about the shows, and how much they appreciated the bands for playing. This was expressed in so many ways; the group meals, the accomidations, the extra effort at providing vegetarian foods, the autographs, everything. It was inspiring to think that there are places in the world, even smaller cities, where the emphasis was on the idea of being a part of a moment where anything could happen. I don't want to sound to goofy about this but I have played all over he USA in lots of large cities and small towns and I very rarely experienced this idea. There was so little of the stand-offish interaction from the audience and by measure, there was no pretentious 'rockstar' attitudes from the bands either. Just some people with a common interest who wanted to enjoy the hell out of some good jams. I know that there were many other people involved in the production of getting the shows on, and all the arrangements to make it flow, that I did not name. I am sorry I couldn't take better notes for that. That is the way a fluid experience plays out though and I am sure that we all know who we are in that capacity. I have included a couple of pictures of the Milano show in order to describe what we looked like, and what the audience saw. If you have any info you think I should include, or if you want some of the more gory details, please write to me:

davedwaid.at.gmail.com other links of interest might include:

http://www.myspace.com/whitehills

http://www.myspace.com/rocketrecordings

http://www.myspace.com/drugspacerecords

http://www.myspace.com/egosensation

Thanks for reading if anyone made it this far than congratulations!!
Go out and see the world for the love of this planet and her good people.
Ciao!

Verbania - "Perche Non?" at Il Kantiere - last show

As I write this I sit in my SF flat completely jut-lagged and dizzy from the timezone crossings so please pardon me if I cannot get the names correctly or remember the details. The last night playing was in Verbania Italy. There are 2 impressions I was left with on the night of the show there, 2 thoughts that left me humbled and happy. First there had been a feeling of great celebration and second it was completely organized and professional in a truly positive way, everyone who wanted to be there felt they had a place. In the town of Verbania is the club night called "perche non?" at the community center 'Il Kantiere' located in between the amazing mountains and the beautiful lake. These people made us feel like we had been friends with them all of our lives. The band that opened was called King Suffy Generator and though I cannot remember any names at this late date, these are guys who rocked like crazymen. I had such a good time listening I did in fact bust a move dancing my ass off. There were people of all ages at this show as well, from 6 to 60 who came out to support the music and the community. We had another big sit down dinner with pasta and wine and all the trimmings after the soundcheck, and we even got to play on the Bocce court for a minute. It was a perfect slice of the life in Verbania, and I will never forget the sincere hospitality of these kind and generous people. I was so greatful that all the small towns we went to were incredibly generous to us and had a totally sincere idea to get together and listen to rock music and have a kick-ass time. I remember Mateo was the guy who got the show together with Dave, and I recall this guy named (not sure really) Albertino I think they called him 'Albe' - even though I did not understand Italian he seemed like a funny guy and I was laughing with him. I also remember that there was Valentina who spoke perfect english and helped us by letting us know how everything was, getting us drink tickets and even givning us some history and background on the Il Kantiere. From what I understood it used to be in a different location, sort of a cave looking place and the floors were sticky. Very Rock was what one guy told me. I can see why he said that too, but I have played in a million smelly sticky crappy rock venues in my life and it is refreshing to have working lights, an exellent sound guy and equipment, and clean bathrooms. Let me say it again, clean bathrooms. Anyway, this show was so fun to play with everyone having fun, and the great food - the excellent bands - and when it was time to end the night, everyone did so; just faded into the night with the sound of glass toasting and drunken laughter and good night kissin. Our hosts of course had everything worked out, they put us up in a cool old monastery that is also a hostel. It is run by the local Dioscese or what ever order of the Church that practices there and it is one of the most immaculate places I have ever stayed. I even got a top bunk and a shower; hog heaven I was in and fell asleep with complete satisfaction scribbled all over my face. Verbania was the perfect place to have the last show on our tour, it was like we had already come home.

Milano - Cox 18

In Milano there is a counter culture community that has been around for more then 20 years - a very passionate and dedicated group of people who cherish art, media, music and the creative process. Some people who volunteer or create and labor and give their time or art, while in the center of some of the most hardcore capitalism surrounding the shallow world of high fashion and marketing. It is certainly a world of contrasts and the cox 18 community embodies the spirit of true devotion to art and music, everyone from the older generation to the youngest kids all help out with ever as aspect of keeping the place alive and flowing. This was most apparent after the soundcheck when a huge table was set for both bands and the entire community of people who lived/worked with the cox 18 group; carafes of wine and water, plates of bread and cheese, and the crew of 4 who made a huge amount of pasta and potates and beef for everyone. It was made with love and care and they even went out of their way to accomidate the vegetarians in the group. There was a large hall with a stage and bar and outside a beautiful courtyard that was ringed by smallish apartments and villas where patios opened to the courtyard going up 3 floors. Another building housed a community book store and media center where movies and public access televison programs were created. The incredible thing was that this was all what is called a 'squat' in europe, where a building has been used for a multipurpose domicile and community center for years, and no one ownes any of it soley. This is a concept that is virtually unknown in the states, a true resource that is neither commodified or exploited for any singualr personal gain. A place where any gains or resources derived from the shows or the sales of drink or food are given back to the bands and the community that supports them. Palo was our main contact in Milano for this show and he set us up at another squat that was one of the cleanest and most spacious hostels I have ever seen, we ended the night in this hostel with seperate beds, towels, and even our own bathroom. It was a godsend after spending a few nights sleeping in the club where we played and going without showers for the better part of the week. Palo expalined that Milano was in the middle of a battle, where the local government wants to close all the squats and turn them into enterprises for land developers before the european expo in 2015 begins. He told us there have been many attacks on the hostels, clubs, and galleries in the past few months by the government and the local authorities to intimidate the communities that keep these places open and running. Palo had volunteered his time and even payed for our stay at the hostel as his way of helping the cox 18 community and to further the agenda of providing livemusic and art resource for the Milano culture and anyone who was interested. The show was incrdible, but how could it not be? All in attendance were there because they wanted to enjoy the music, to benefit from the energy and the passion that was put forth by the band Zippo, who were from southern Italy, and White Hills. It was very well attended and they even captured it on various mini-cams and made a mix they were able to burn onto a DVD and give us that night. I can't even begin to describethe amount of effort and talent it took to run all the tech happening that night; the lights, the sound, the cams, the food,.... it was truly inspiring and amazing. This is a famous place and there were many conversations about politics, love, and art that night. Zippo played an amazing show and we were able to follow up with our own so all who showed up to support this cool creation of media were delighted with the outcome. There were even some people who wanted us to sign autographs and pose for pictures, which I found a little embarrassing at first but then after I realized the genuine nature of the love and support being offered suddenly it was really beautiful. This was something that certainly cheered my spirits.

Sinister Noise Club - Rome

Nearby the Circus Maximo Ruin the Pyramid and the Colluseum in central Rome is the Sinister Noise Club; one of the coolest clubs I have ever had the great fortune to play at. It had an upstairs for drinks and cozy hangouts; and a downstairs,where the band played. The upstairs was like a very comfortable living room at your tasteful friends house, lots of 60's era psychedelic paintings and patterns, a projected movie on the wall of pink floyd - umma gumma era; and lots of comfy couches, chairs and candles everywhere. There was also a color TV from the 60's on it's side showing the Kubrick movie 'The Shining' in an endless loop. Very atmospheric for our first club experience in Rome. The man behind all this amazing community of crazy musicians and trippy moods? He is none other than the incredible Massi! This guy is like a one man army of underground production, from the time he arrived at 5pm to the time he locked up and left at 3am he did everything - serving, cleaning, chatting, watching, protecting, and most important to us, being like a father to us to make sure we had food and water and wine. Delicious Italian wine. So good,....The show and the club run as if it takes no effort at all, but make no mistake there is much work going on in the background to make this place have such a positive fun vibe. The 2 bands that played before us were both great fun but very different from each other, and we watched and cheered for them as they played their best. There was a good crowd that showed up pretty late but that is how they do it in Rome. Shows start around 10pm and later sometimes going on until 2 or 3am. Our sonic sound was well received and people danced and cheered us to play another song even when we were finished. It was a great introduction to the beauty of Rome and the friendliness of it's people. We received the honor of staying with Massi and he even made us up cots to sleep in in his living room. We got about 2 or 3 hours of sleep and then woke up and packed up the Opel and headed off to Milano at 7am. I hope to go back to Rome someday, for a romantic getaway or a honeymoon with my love it really is quite romantic and I saw many people enjoying the cafes and plaza and each other. Forever a wonderful memory for a truly amazing experience.

Mozzate Italy - MotoRockas Music Club

Drove about 3 hours up and over the alps this time to get to Mozzate, a cool little town in the beautiful Italian countryside. The moon was glowing and powerful as we entered Mozzate and we knew this was going to be a very good omen for our space-rocking demise in this town. The drive was incredible, so scenic and powerful, steep winding switchbacks and sheer vertical cliff sides some covered with snows or glaciers. Streams of water cascaded down steep meadows above us and the world became 75 angkes or more everywhere you looked.There were tunnels embedded into the sides of cliffs and the streams of water came rushing and over the highway in places, the river sometimes pacing our decending vehicle sometimes disapearing deep within the mountains. You can really feel the age of these mountains, almost as if they groan from the earth in a very deep and monumental way. A very humbling experience whether on the swiss or italian side of this mountain range. There is really no similarity between the Swiss/French and the Italians except for their extreme generosity. The club in Mozzate is called MotoRockas and some of the cool rocker guys Fabio - Alex - Franchesco we met when we got there made us feel welcome and excited for the night. We could not know enough Italian to understand them but they did a very good job of communicating with us about the instruments for backline and also to help us communicate with the soundguy.This is another club where they do not have a public sign outside and as it was explained to me - this is why they can stay open for 10 years now. Apparently keeping a low profile in Europe means your rock club may have a long prosperous life. The other bit of similarity was that there was no representation of disgusting american corporate culture in either SIerre or Mozzate, no Starbucks, Mcdonalds, KFC, or any of the other chains so familiar to those who travel in the USA or England. I hope they are able to resist this invasion forever. Before the show Ego and I got a taste of some culture shock as we spent nearly an hour trying to find what we describe in the states as a 'corner store'. These are typically places that have alcohol, cigarettes, phone cards, magazines, candy, botttled water, aspirin and other sundries. We drove to many places in the central part of Mozzate and each store we entered had a very specific selection of goods. Some were meat and fruit, some were wine and cheese and chocolate or pastries. Some were clothes and housewares, even the supermarket we entered had many unfamiliar items.The gas stations here only sell things related to your auto - oil, wiper blades' steering fluid etc. It was a bit confusing but also very exciting to be learning about these things. For dinner somone had brought us some delicious pizza for all the band and staff personell after the soundcheck, and I remember someone there told me that Naples has the best pizza in Italy. As in Sierre, I was totally amazed and energized by the amount of people who came to see White Hills on a weeknight. It was grand, and we put ourselves into the music as if we were a satellite racing to meet the earth through the atmosphere. The soundguy was very professional and it was a very good mix. Ego and Dave had many compliments, sadly for me I felt very bad before the show though I played well. These people are true fans of rock music in my mind, they might have had to work the next day or had other obligations, but they came to participate and enjoy the wild abandon of passionate kick ass rock and roll from the usa. We got to stay at the club again this night, and it was very fortunate for us as we had to wake up at 7am to drive to Rome from there. It had been many days since we had known the feeling of a shower so we stocked up on some things like wet naps and foot spray at the local farmacia.They are everywhere and only sell products you could classify as personal care remedies. There are some other things that I must mention because the observation seemed interesting, where you are from you may not realize it but you identify useful items by it's packaging. Some of the things we got on the way through europe included: Dijon mustard in what looked like a toothpaste tube, fruit juice and milk in a box, meat in cloth tied with wire or string, decongestants and other cold remedies delivered in the form of chewing gums and our personal favorite tissues strongly sented with spirits or antihistamines.

Sierre Switzerland at Hacienda Sonic

Arrived in sleepy Sierre where there is no wifi and no starbucks I am happy to report.It is assuredly a city in transition from the past into the future. We arrived at the club and it seemed to us to be the secret cool place in this town. Graffitti covered the walls on the outside but there was no sign to indicate it was the Hacienda Sonic. We felt very safe to leave our stuff in theclub and explore the city centre. Nearby was a winery which shocked us all, we had never heard of swiss wine. The downtown was in the middle of transition and we found some very interesting niches and some older shops and buildings that had been closed - maybe for renovation. To our western sensability there was a cool mix of the past and the present; and H&M store right down the street from a wooden moveable cart selling traditional cheeses and salted meat legs. Most kind was the promoter, Greg, who put us up in the dance studio/backstage area and also Jules let me use his drum set; and it was a great turnout for a tuesday night as I was reminded by the locals. They do not have regular shows at Haciend Sonic, only for special occasions. Apparently if they keep a low profile and stop the show early they are not troubled by authority or legal issues. They are not supported by the municipality like other arts and performance spaces either, but it seems to work out for the best. The show was spacerock sonic and quite energetic, perhaps it was the altitude or the delicious locally produced beverages and plants but we 3 felt as though we had our sense elevated to the highest order. There was also a great lightshow provided quite spontaneously but went with the music perfectly; another of the talented musicians from Sierre volunteered for this idea. There were only 2 or 3 people we met that spoke more than stuttered english, and we only spoke very broken french so it was somewhat difficult to discuss any topic. After the show ended we sat in the backstage and using our hands and gestures we managed to speak of everything from how they saw their country changing in response to globalization, the fact that the swiss still have a national currency alone among the states of the EU - to the cool bands that have toured through Sierre recently. Finally Greg helped us send the last of the local friends home and we said good night. There were spontaneous bro-hugs all around which made our hosts giggle a bit, and then we expressed our sincere thanks to Greg who then locked up the club and left us in the backstage.
Within seconds it was dead silent, I mean perfectly quiet. No cars driving on the road outside, no planes or trains in the night, not even the sound of sirens in the distance. The sky seemed 4 dimensional in the display of stars and we ventured out into the night. There was a graveyard nearby which we explored with our camera lights, and when we got back to the backstage dance studio I used the air mattress to body surf the floor for awhile. I got bored of that and passed out. We walked up the street 300 yards the next moring and introduced ourselves to the fine people at the cultural center so we could use the bathrooms there. They were so kind and bought us delicious coffee from the machine on site. We packed our bags and plotted our route to Mozzate.

Camden then off to Geneva

The next day we went to Camden to check out the shops, I also enjoyed some time at the laundrette to wash my filthy socks and shirts. I got to talk with my love and my son so was totally excited for the entire afternoon. We got aboard a famous double decker bus and sat on the top front window. The shops in Camden were like those almost anywhere, st. marks in NYC, harijuku in Tokyo, haight st in SF or melrose in LA. The exception was the layout of the famous "horse tunnel market". We had some amazing curry and walked for quite a long time against the river. I bought some Jagermeister for Anthea in order to smooth things over from my impromptu staircase gymnastics from the night before. I could hardly sleep knowing we were going to Switzerland in the morning - of course waking up at 4:30 am really was not preferable. We took a cab from the Hackney bourough to King's Cross Station where we got on a train to gatwick airport. This is one of the largest and coolest train stations I have ever seen. Dave and Ego both called on the gods of space and time to provide us with guidance and security for the checked bags; our instruments. We arrived in Switerland without incident and rented an Opel wagon to continue our travel to Sierre - through the Alpine region. As we drove alongside the incredible ranges of mountains there was a huge lake to our right and above it was a man suspended by a parachute. As we watched his parachute started to crumple and a second chute opened, he seemed to plummet very quickly to the water but we lost sight of his progress.

another bus and London again

Another National Express bus ride, but only 3 hours this time and we had been spoiled by the insane but hilarious nature of our previous driver Davie so it made this ride seem entirely uneventful and totally hot. Despite the fact that the temp outside was in the 70's somewhere the bus had the internal heat on so it was a bit like a sauna and I really wanted to strip down to my underwear.I probably would have been knocked off the bus though. It made me realize that between the busses, the tubes and the plane rides that we had spent nearly the same amount of time travelling as we had just being somewhere. For example - we got up in Trowbridge and had Johnny drive us to the bus depot in Bath at about 10 am. By the time the bus pulled into Victoria station in London and we had navigated the 3 tube stops to get to where Chris (Rocket Records) met us and then crushed everything into a cab to his house and; it was nearly 6pm. That was the whole day basically.
We did go to a pub and I finally had a chance to charge the laptop and the phone which were both dead and had been for a couple days while we sat in the pub. Pembury Tavern was where Chris took us, after a moment to drop our cadre of guitars and bags; and it literally felt like I could fly down the street by the difference. So amazing. Anthea was there to meet us with about a half dozen other people that we were introduced to. Chris recommended the cider from the tap, and I really am not a big cider guy but this was really really good. Did you know that a pint glass in the UK is actually 22 oz? Yep. Not a measly 16. I later learned that the cider was also 7.5 % as well. Commercial beer in the US is usually about 3.5% in case you didn't know. I am prefacing this next part by saying all this and adding that we had been going on 4 hours sleep per night average and I put 2 of the Queen's pints away before we got back to Chris and Anthea's flat in Hackney Bourough. There was lots of recap about the shows - the Big Sur Dave/Grill fight and Me and the folding chairs debacle - Show Cave Police riots in silverlake - kick ass krautrock and giant space madness at the Knockout and Retox SF respectively - Buffalo Bar amp blowouts - Monorail instore (and aquarius) - Stereo in glasgow and then the wonderful community of heads and space lovers uniting in Trowbridge. A bootle of wine was produced out of the vapours of nite somehow and we polished it off. Lots of music talk, rock shop, label doings and upcoming shows - as weel as a brief recap of Anthea and Chris' holiday in Spain and suddenly there were shots of hot pepper laced vodka going around. Well it was just a good old time and then I suddenly had a hot mug of tea and rum in my hand, I have never tried it before but it was great! So then comes the getting to bed part, and I really don't have a firm recollection except for the laughing into my pillow. Preceeding that, I apparently fell down the stairs in my sleeping bag, crawled back up, lay on my mat on the floor laughing for a quarter hour and then packing z's like a piker. I only found out the next morning over coffee after being told by Dave and Lynnea.

Trowbridge - The Village Pump

Saturday - Trowbridge, Wiltshire - The Village Pump -About an hour out from Bristol. Grind noise bands, and hard rock bands, and bands with chellos and bands from out of nowhere in the middle of the southlands of The UK. An incredible scene of extrordinary people who have come together around the remarkable Charlie, who seems to have quite a talent for getting bands to play in Trowbridge. Bands on the bill last night included: chipper - (charlotte nichols) cello playing with the band - Caricatures - A Heavy doom trio -and the amazing Goonga - We took the stage last and were able to avoid any major technicial problems yet the guitarist from Goonga had some weird problem with his amplifier.When we took the stage there were no major issues and we rocked the place properly it seemed like. After the show we broke things down and a whole contingent went back to charlies place where we proceeded to drink some nice port and have delicious molded cheese with blue crackers and speak of music and people and the general state rot in the world, which was quite pleasant. Finally when everyone was keenly lubed up and the ghost stories started to come out, it was a church visit at 3 am in the middle of an awesome graveyard where the flash of the cameras illuminated the eriee inside church, johny o played us a piano soundtrack in the halls of the dead we found sanctuary and found the probabilities of ghosts and those maybe 100 years passed away. It was matt and charlie who made the impossibly creepy way there. I have no truly concrete recollection of this time execpt to say that it was preceeded by bitters, port, and single malt something and an amazing journey through English neighborhoods lined with juniper and a maze of pine and scotch shrubs culminating in a visit to a hundreds years old beautiful brick church where Jonny O decided to play a soundtrack of the damned and camera flashhbulbs lit our way in. The pews and the smell of it made methink of musty years that have passed and been forgotten and matt swore he had seen ghosts. Blue orbs were calling but the presence of so many people made the tandem transfixition too muddled so we made our way back to charlies house and as we left Johnny threw Mickey down in a symbolic gesture of sacrifice to the nobles and people from days passed by. It was, in my mind, quite a cool event in every way.

On a plane Glasgow to Bristol

The plane from Glasgow to Bristol airport was not very eventful, it was basically up and then down again, but it was a gorgeous day and as we came through the clouds to Bristol we could see the Newport bridge shining over the river; the Newport bridge is the gateway to Wales. I heard a little boy behind me name it thats how I know. I did try the national soda of Scotland called IRN BRU (pronounced erwon brew, I think) and it looked like a flourescent orange color and had the taste of a bubblegum flavor you would find in childrens cough syrup. I couldn't finish it. Johnny O from Rocket Records met us at the airport. Rocket Records is the label from London that put out the last White Hills CD "Glitter Glamour Atrocity" and Johnny is one half of the production part of the label. He is a fantastic guy and a fair artist too, and was there to meet us in his very european car. It took some puzzling to get the 2 large cases, 2 guitars, 3 backpacks our roller and the 4 of us all squashed in but we did it. Then it was nearly an hour of stunning english backroads to get to Trowbridge, and I just kept whipping my head around trying to take it all in. The roads were obviously only made for horse and walking because whenever another car came head on one of us had to pull in so that a pass could be made. There were no real signs and the road was edged with huge hedges on either side that were not so much manicured as just beaten back by the passing of vehicles. It was incredible when the hedges would disapear for a stretch and a vast expanse of green countryside would open up - all hills and sky - looking for all the world like a postcard. Johnny kept commenting on how lucky we were to have the weather like it was considering the entire summer was just one long rain.

Stereo - Glasgow

The morning was grey and rainy here in glasgow. I woke up on the floor on top of the living room seat cushions feeling a little like my sleeping bag was a python trying to squeeze the life out of me. I wasnt too hung over because of some restraint, and I made an attempt to drink exceptional brews rather than swill which seems to have less of a hangover imp-act. I did notice that I had a dizzy feeling and after extracting myself from the grip of death that my bag had on me, I decided to cleanse my body and mind. So far in my experience the showers in the UK all have some kind of trick, possibly to prevent people from using too much water. The switch to turn on the shower was located outside the bathroom door and it looked just like any other light switch. I was confused but my fine host Russell showed me the trick and all was proper in the end. It seems the hospitality has no end here in Glasgow, and our host made us the most amazingly refrshing lentil soup for breakfast. It kicked ass and started the day right. Surprisingly it was nearly noon when I woke and almost 3pm when Ego, Dave and I were all showered and ready to go collect our instruments from the record store. It was, how they say here "pissing rain"; and so by the time we got to Monorail records we were soaked. We wore garbage bags walking our equipment through the downtown shopping district of Glasgow on our way to Stereo for the setup and so looked like a cross between homeless people and spacemen when we turned up at the venue. Stereo is another combination venue with a nice bar/vegetarian restaurant upstairs and the stage and actual hall for performance downstairs. It was very busy so we had to stand around in the doorway all dripping black plastic and wet shoed until a table became available. The food was delicious and it was basic but well put together; things like fajita's, taco's, and soups/sandwiches.There was even something called veggie haggis fritters which, although tempting, wasn't my choice for dinner that night. The people who worked at the record store and let us stay with them; Russell - Kirsty - Dave - John - Benoit - all those involved with making the show an amazing spectacle of lights and sound - paul who worked the gels, Shauna who did an amazing job of sound, Paul the manager of Stereo, Dave/Benoit who DJ'ed some righteous tunes. I also tried to find the guy who generously donated his drums for the night but I had no luck as Russell was otherwise occupied.There was a proper backstage at this venue and we were able to don our "show gear" which consisted face paint for Dave, a wonderful catsuit with stripes for Ego Sensation and my ninja mask. As we took the stage the crowd hushed and it was 1,2,3, go - Dave broke a string and it cut his finger and because he didn't know how deep it was it started spraying blood all over and I vividly remember seeing a few dots of it seeming to float through the air in the nidst of the crazy light show and land on my drum. This was even confirmed later visually. The show itself was just a blur for me, we didnt even start until about 12:30 (or half past zed, or 30 past nothing) and I was completely absorbed in drumming my guts out for the next hour or so. After the show we smashed everything back into a cab and passed out back at Russell and Kristy's around 3am or so.

Monorail Records Glasgow

Direct from the National Express coach station Glasgow to Monorail Records and in the taxi it was a huge collective sigh of relief to be away from the hell bus and back to the real world. It was hustle into the record shop set up and do an instore performance. We set our sights on the mesmerizing and hypnotic but eased back a bit on the volume as there is a cafe and bar attached to the record shop. Really it's quite a cool little setup, and I wish there were more places like this in general. The folks here were mighty receptive and although we were totally drained from our bus ride the enthusiasm in the room gave us that bit of energy and initiative to throw down a 40 minute set of atmoshperic and psychedelic tones. Mostly it was tough to try and pack down the equipment and we decided to leave it all be until we got back tomorrow to pick up the equipment for the next nights show at Stereo in the heart of Glasgow. The fine folks here fed us and brought us proper beers and generally made us feel like a cross between long lost family and honored guests. Russell and John and Dave all hung out until one by one we started to pass out and had to be escorted to cabs and back to Russell and Kirsty's flat. It was very much surreal in the best possible way.

National Express Coach 590 hour 6.5

hour 6: somewhere in the midlands of England.

feels like the air is getting thiker by the minute. I had nearly finished a post a few hours back but something happpened and I was rendered unconcious.By what I do not know, but it seems to me that there must be some foreign element being mixed in with the oxegyn. The driver keeps getting on the internal PA and muttering cryptic passages from perhaps shelly or yeats, his accent thickening by the second like a pot of steel cut oatmeal.His latest missive seemed to gto something like this:

" living is pointless and you smokers have a leg up on the rest. We wont be pulling over anyway though as we've lost 11 minutes that we'll never get back.If you make it to glasgow than god is with you, past that you'll need even less hope.'

This is seriously starting to trouble me and I am feeling a bit frantic and oddly dizzy as if I were some hapless stranger picked up by Gonzo and his lawyer in 'Fear and Loathing'. I keep running questions by myself, questions like - couldit be the altitude? Did someone in the tube dose me? AM I experiencing some sort of metabolic shock resulting in aural hallucinations? How could a representartive of the only authority available be so callous and cavalier whilst driving a 3 ton bus with over 20 people cramed inside its steel guts? I swear if I make it to glasgow alive I am changing my ways, love everyminute, carpe diem and all that. Jesus it seems like the carpeted seatback in front of me is somehow undulating, but almost so subly that it makes sense. Dave and Ego seem to be incapacitated which isnt surprising as I have quite a high tolerance to everything but paranoid fantasy.

National Express Coach 590

We ended up choosing the bus (or national express coach) over the train because it was cheaper. Dave and Ego had tried to secure a driver and lorry at first but that fell through at the last minute, and apparenlty one needs at least a month to try and book this kind of transportation, at least for a band and equipment as opposed to sides of beef. We ended up making the underground at 7:15 and took the victoria line to the kings cross station. We arrived at the offices of the National Express tired, caffiene-less, and midly dizzy from lack of sleep but got our tickets and queued up for the coach. It turned out to be the best choice as we later learned that there was a rail strike in Scotland, and all trains were being stopped at the border. I may actually figure out the whole United Kingdom, the natioanlism of it's people, and the differences between the countries border-wise; and if I do I will try to explain sometime in the future.

The bus driver for our natioal express coach from london to glasgow was named davie. He gave us a 10 minute speech ( no exageration) on the rules ( no drinking no smoking) and then some of his own thoughts as well. I couldnt understand most of what he was saying but there was one part right tword the end where he expressed this thought in a barely intelligible scotish brouge.

"This job can really try your patience so dont go gettin out of line, that being said we are going to be running late to every stop because they dont provide enough time for refueling and smoking off the coach on the official schedule. Dont come and try to talk to me about it, If you need anything just let me know."

I was literally laughing so hard I was crying but trying to keep it on the DL unsucessfully, while the guy sitting next to me pretended to sleep and plotted how he was going to assasinate the american without causing a ruckus.

first show - buffalo bar Islington London

Played the Buffalo Bar - Islington which was directly out from the victoria line underground. literally 20 ft from the escalator exit. I don't have the time or patience here to explain how unthinkably enormous London is. We could ride the underground for well over an hour and still be in London. Not surprisingly, the main room of the club was underground so it was down another flight of stairs to haul all our equipment. The bar was high in atmoshpere, lots of red lights and moody spots set in the ceiling but housed in an older building that was an old fashioned proper pub upstairs. The name of the upper pub? "The Famous Cock". There were 3 bands ahead of us this night so there was plenty of time to kill. The guys who had come to see White Hills previously dropped in to say hi and take us to the most inexpensive and delicious vegetarian indian food I have ever eaten. By inexpensive I mean 3 pounds (or quid I am learning) 60. Roughly that translates into about 6 dollars and change US. It was totally cramped and the 5 of us sat at a table for 3 but the food was truly spectacular. Not only that they had a huge metal tin of that green sauce I love so much that you could just help yourself to. By my account there was some damn good food in london so far. We headed back to the club to set up the merchandise booth and check out the other talent on the bill. The other bands were fairly good, I should add their names later. The band directly before us was letting us use their main equipment; because although we toiled endlessly dragging our guitars (2) effects pedals and cymbals, snare drum, kick pedal and sticks through the underground we still needed amps and the rest of the drums. The band was called 'Eat lights Become Lights' and they were really nice guys but of course things couldn't go without incident because after the second song the guitar amp just died. No smell of burning, no power failure, it just decided to quit working period. So after a few minutes of the drum and bass show while Dave flicked every switch off and on - plugged in and out every cable, and then threw his guitar to the ground in disgust; we got the sound guy to let us run the guitar through the house sound system. He was nice (or drunk) enough to do so, despite the fact that we just killed the guitar amp in 2 songs. The bar itself was much like many rock bars I have played in back in the states; sticky floors, expensive drinks from the glass - cheap from the bottle, and the whole of the mens room had about an inch of liquid on the floor. Someone had thrown down an entire roll of that brown industrial paper towel stuff in order to create a sort of walkway (the brown paper road?) to the stalls and the sink but it had disintegrated long ago and so it was neigh impossible to even identify the liquid. Paper soup is what we dubbed it. We had a good sized crowd to begin with but it being wednesday and almost 1am everyone had pretty much cleared out by the end of the set. We took a cab back to the Generator and passed out in anticipation of our 7am wake up call to make the 9 hour bus ride to Glasgow from London.

flash tour of London

Woke up to the sound of hostel doors slamming and the sweet smell of english breakfast.never did greasy food smell so good, but it was just a tease because the breakfast for the late risers was cold cereal, toast and instant coffee. The generator bunkbeds are comfy enough though so its not a total loss. We got back on the magical rope meds and the underground again so it became another swirling miasma of people, smells, and incoherent quad-colored maps. We pitched ourselves off the tube and up one of the longest escalators I have ever ridden in my life that was also as steep as Divisidero going down to alcatraz and I may have gotten a touch of vertigo. We paced off the Thames and saw that huge ferris wheel, the millenium bridge, big ben, buckingham palace and westminster abbey in no particular order. I found myself pinwheeling in the middle of the street between 2 double decker busses after not looking the correct direction for oncoming traffic. I was summarily scolded by Ego and Dave because they had no backup drummer and would have had to lose their plane fare. I will be more careful as I do not want to cause an international incident and really am looking forward to italy. We had whats called a ploughmans lunch at the lamb and the flag where in the 1800 they used to do illegal barefisted boxing and wagering; I knew this because of the 200 year old flyers under glass on the wall.I was tripping out on the money because it looks pretty - but then I was reminded by my cohorts that the americans are finally on that tip too. (seen the new 5 dolar bills?) Stopped into a crazy lookin pharmacy and got my flask all filled up with vintage port. I anticipate tonights show to be interesting and wholly psychedelic.

Flight out - the Generator hostel London

Getting up at 3:30 am to drive to JFK for our 7am flight to London was no less than brutal. It was mostly a blur until the airline counter person at JFK, who spoke with a thick islands accent, informed us we would have to break our luggage up from our original 6 compact pieces to 9 disorganized and completely random pieces due to weight and other insane beuracratic restrictions. Basically it was the same weight and volume but split into smaller pieces. The logic of it all escaped us completely (not hard to believe at 5am) and Dave was able to summon his hawdline powers of 'get shit done' to produce an extra bag out of thin air. Flying into London from NYC is kind of like being shot from a spring loaded cannon, there's a real long wait as you get shot out into the London underground (or the tube) and it is insane for first timers like me. The flight was uneventful and we thought that we were within reach of setting a record for getting into our hostel and settled before 9pm in London. That record went down in dissapointing flames when the Piccadilly line came to a depressing grinding halt and some woman started speaking in tounges over the PA system about severed limbs on the track ahead. The underground emptied onto the street and we hailed a cab to get us to the Generator Hostel. Wow. It's as if someone saw a need and tried to fill it by converting a minimum security correctional facility into a hostel, bar and cafe. The floors are sticky, the bunkbeds are suspect, and we were completely thrilled to be sitting in an industrial neon themed bar having delicious (real) Bass beer and plotting our overthrow of the London music scene.The hostel is located in the Russel Square district of London - sort of residential. The reason I can tell is that the russian proprietor is running around in a mock whisper/scream telling people not to smoke, not to be noisy and to keep the luggage off the cobblestones.

waiting for liftoff

Dave and Ego Sensation were furiously working the assembly line here at White Hills central; cooking up a couple hundred vinyl LP's and other merch for the tour and kicking me out of the way, so I spun around the neighborhood here in central NYC on Ave B chcecking out the movie set near Tompkins Square Park and working the rooftop view. The preperations are being arranged all around me for the upcoming odessy while phones calls go unanswered and inboxes fill up - too many questions about line up changes and wrecked minds from the West Coast mini-tour to try and sort out. I also took a brief tour of the local sweatshop and met Kid Millions and Pierre Auntour. I fully intend on meeting the 6 hour flight to London as if it were my maiden voyage into the depths of space.

In the lair of White Hills

Here I am in beautiful downtown manhattan, at the highly chaotic laboratories of space rock band White Hills who have recruited me for singular percussive and spiritual support on their latest venture into the UK and European continent. I am excited and also apprehensive as travelling with this brainy psychedelic duo has always proved to be lysergic at best and sonically crippling - as well as deeply disturbing. I caught the Aquarius Records instore show on the 24th of Sept and it was moving and ethereal, especially with the addition of Josh Pollock on mutated aural samplings. The next night at the Retox Lounge proved to be the other shoe - everyone in attendance needed to proverbally wash their ears out with soap after the pummeling induced by the White Pee/ White Hills collaboration. Literally 90 minutes of solid "new age musiks of the highest order" and it gave me a deeper appreciation of how music can not only be used to savage and torture but to soothe and innundate the listener with experiences and feelings not quite from the inner space.

Apparently my ability to absorb this kind of sustained sonic abuse, and the fact that I could only communicate in monosyllabic grunts after the shows; convinced them I should pile on to the madness and pick up the percussive duties that their NYC drummer Kid Millions could not commit to. We shoved off for the shows in Big Sur and Los Angeles, accompanied by the most capable Gypsy's Purple Potion riding shotgun and providing mobile accomidations. The shows; both of which turned out to be epic and classic in their scope; where one was in the idyllic setting of the forest and coast of the Big Sur and part of a 3 day festival of amazing artists; and the other show in LA was at an art gallery called 'show cave' where the police needed to inform all of their ultimate authority when the musics from the white hills began to tear the fabric of the SIlverlake district asunder.

Now I wait and wonder what the next part of the excursion will bring.

From Musics