I’ve been touring a lot over the past years. I think it’s safe to say an average of 150 shows a year. I wouldn’t have done that without serious reasons. If a routine like this comes to an immediate halt this feels like I imagine it must feel like stopping a vehicle going 300 KMH down to zero in a split second. It has a strong physical effect. I felt mentally and physically terrible in any imaginable way. Never thought I’d need it that much.
Read MoreAfter eight hours of driving here from Basel my interest and enthusiasm in exploring yet another town has completely disappeared. My first evening in France on this leg of the tour, trying to make my way down to JL’s Celtic Pub in Tarbes, doesn’t feel special or particular or anything even near. Empty the closest. Just driven here by the urge to perform. From Germany, to Poland, to Slovakia, to Czech Republic, back to Germany, to Switzerland and now — finally — France.
Read More20.09.20, Wroclaw
Zurück in Wroclaw. Ziemlich kaputt. Zumindest lädiert. Es strengt gerade an. Aber jeder Gig, jeder Tag eine Belohnung. Wäre da nicht die ständige, unterschwellige Angst, fast steinerne Angst, doch noch irgendwo, irgendwie den Virus einzufangen
See, it’s an interesting thing. I suppose psychologically. You live your life as an independent, self-employed touring musician/songwriter and over the years you realize it’s possible. You can do it. You don’t ever have to ask your government for any whatsoever support. That’s because you know there won’t be any.
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… the whole atmosphere was eerie. I recall it being a difficult one to perform or even start the concert. How to find the right songs and words for a crowd of people having just lost both a very good friend and one of the key figures of local/regional social and cultural activities? Most of them about to leave for the funeral in Nice, five o'clock in the morning.
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After two days in Burgundy's finest, being fed and watered, being treated like the long-lost son or brother, this feels more than ever like some place I could imagine calling home some day. Even more so knowing I'll be without a flat in eight months time in Germany. Opening up a punk festival at Les Tanneries was a wild ride last night. No safety net.
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Any time I played here since the early 2000s something special, out of the ordinary is connected with those shows. Including one song on my first solo album. This might sound funny for you but for me this town has got an air of strangely fertile creativity whilst at the same time being a bit sloppy and laid back. Especially for a Swiss town. What adds to it is its a river town. In my experience a different quality of energy in such places.
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Thunder Bay Greyhound station. Oh my. Been there? It’s the place where excitement starts. I have to admit I was pushing my luck here.
The Mayor in Winnipeg — no, that’s how they call him, he’s not the mayor of Winnipeg — set the show for 7.30/8.00pm the very night. According to Greyhound’s timetable I’m supposed to make it to Winnipeg by 6.45 pm. Unfortunately the hydraulic ramp for the wheelchair refused to do what it was designed for…
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They looked at me with a both knowing and pitying smile, an expression of “well, good luck son. Some just never learn…”, a respectful undertone (“oh, he seems to be mad but, wow, he apparently really does it”) and at the same time pointing out what a great thing it is riding a coach from Toronto all the way to Winnipeg via Thunder Bay.
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… running into Em first thing on arrival. Snow globe queen of Ontario. Sort of slightly shaky start, testing the grounds, an almost surreal little thing to start this tour with, sharing stage with Bird City and Wax Mannequin. Wax being the thing on this night with an irritatingly beautiful set. I will be back in a thousand years, a thousand years, a thousand…
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