Feb
Posted on 7th February 2011
Today I write to you from a laundrette in London. As it turns out, a laundrette is the same thing as a laundromat despite the more glamorous name. Either way, I am excited to have clean underwear in less than an hour from now. I’ve really been pushing mine to a limit during this European invasion, so it will be nice to have a fresh artillery at my disposal. I think other people will be happy about it too.
I got into London yesterday after returning to Germany to rock those people for a few more nights as the guitar player for the Walter Schreifels Band. We left London after playing at the Borderline this past Tuesday and headed back to Germany after taking a boat across what I tend to think was the English Channel. Once we got to the other side, it turns out we were in Calais, France, one of the towns they have there. Along the way, we stopped off at a rest stop to pull ourselves together after over an hour at sea, a cruel mistress. It was there that we happened upon a roving gang of wild French chickens. First we saw just the one chicken, the leader I think. And then we saw another one. The next thing we knew, we were surrounded by easily a dozen irritable chickens who appeared to be easily given to handing out their own swift brand of justice. You can see a few of them above. Needless to say, we did what we had to do and then got back in the van to continue on to Germany, only narrowly escaping a full-on chicken beatdown.
As awesome a time as we had during our UK rock shows, it was great to get back to Germany as they have maybe the best truck stops in the entire world, full of great food offerings (see above for an example), self-cleaning toilets, and easily accessible pornography. Sometimes I would eat an entire meal at each stop, not because I was hungry but just because it was available to me and it felt weird not to. We debated whether the German-style truck stops would thrive in America and ultimately decided they wouldn’t because we Americans would demand crappier food and dirtier bathrooms. The only country with truck stops as awesome as Germany is possibly Japan. If there were a truck stop world war, those two countries would come out on top without a doubt and things would never be the same.
Our first show back in Germany was in Osnabruck at a really cool club called Kleine Freiheit. You have to walk through an old converted school bus to get into the club and then things get even more exciting from there. The club staff cooked us a delightful meal and gave us a bunch of stuff to drink. For the first night of the tour, I didn’t have anything but water though and was delighted to see how many proper notes I managed to hit during the set as a result. I think I might be onto something.
After the show, we hung out and talked to some of the people who came to the show, which was a delight. During various conversations, I was treated to what the guys in the band refer to as “German honesty” a few times. One woman took a few pictures of me and then, while showing them back to me on her camera, pointed out how I was getting too fat for my jacket. Another woman told me that she enjoyed how I “really didn’t do all that much on stage” It was sweet.
From Osnabruck, we continued on, my ego barely intact, to Kassel to play at a food warehouse that was in the process of being converted into a rock club. It was kind of like playing in the middle of a food-based construction site, but was reasonably fun nonetheless despite the rumble of power tools and sawdust in the air. The pre-show dinner, despite being vegan, was quite delicious. The crowd, however, was a bit reserved. I found out after the show though that the club didn’t have it’s liquor license yet, so the audience was sober, sometimes in an impediment to rocking out to full capacity.
A particular highlight of the Kassel experience was that I learned how to open a beer bottle with a knife, lighter, or whatever other solid object I might have at my disposal. I’d seen people do this for years, but now finally knowing how to myself I feel like a man, a man with a dingle dangle you could skip rope with. If you need me to open a beer for me next time I see you, it’s not going to be a problem. Bring it on.
After the Kassel show, we headed over to our hotel, which was really more of a bed and breakfast minus the breakfast. Apparently we slept in too late the following morning as the woman in charge came up to our rooms to tell us to “get out,” adding that maybe we “should go to sleep earlier next time.” Other than that, she seemed really nice.
After being kicked out of Kassel by the irritable German woman, we continued on to Berlin, the grand finale of the rock tour (not counting the show in Hanover the next night, which I wasn’t able to play as I had to head on to London). Our show was at the Comet Club and was super fun. We played all the hits and people danced around and everyone had a really nice time in general.
Once we had packed up our gear after the show, we headed out into the Berlin night, eventually ending up at a bar called the Wiener Blut, a name I can’t say without giggling. I’m told I had a really nice time there. Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel, where I slept for an hour or two before somehow making it to the airport to fly to London despite apparently hitting the snooze button on my alarm for over an hour.
I finally made it to London on fumes yesterday afternoon and then slept for a few hours before hitting the strees for a killer run as pretty much everyone I passed high-fived me and chanted my name until I was once again out of sight.
After showering up, I continued on to do a comedy show at Union Chapel. As hinted at in the name, Union Chapel is a chapel that has been converted into a live venue. It holds about 900 people and was packed. The bill included Stephen Merchant, Jarred Christmas, Doc Brown, Andy Zaltzman, and me, Dave. The place kind of reminded me of that scene in “Eyes Wide Shut” where Tom Cruise sneaks into the private club where everyone is wearing the masks only there were no naked chicks as best I could tell. Before going on stage, I had a brief freakout where I wondered how the hell I ended going into a profession where I have to walk out on stage in front of so many people who could easily throw stuff at my head. The show was fun though and my set seemed to go pretty well despite my hard-to-understand accent.
After my set at Union Chapel, I had to run out to do a short set at the Pleasance. Unfortunately, by then I think the lack of sleep and everything had caught up with me and I was not bringing full heat. No one threw anything at me though, so I am thankful for that.
In a little while, I am heading out for a Sunday roast (note: I am posting this entry a day after writing), the popular British pasttime. I will let you know how it goes. Right now I have to check on my underwear. All of it. I leave you with another photo from the day I went running in Exeter, England last week. Not too shabby.
Dave Hill
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