Lost for almost a century, the brief manifesto that started the brawling revolution of the Matryoshka was recently found and will be published this fall by Coldsnap Bindery as part of it's new pamphlet series.
Oh yeah, finger puppets will also be available so that you could re-enact your very own brutal revolution.
We took a short jaunt down to Nurmberg, picked up a couple friends then made our way over to Vienna, and then over to Budapest - where my well-being proceeded to become one with the pavement. We were feeling slightly more aw(ful) than (esome) as we arrived at the venue, but things instantly improved as we entered the cellar room - it would definitely turn steamy when full of people, but for now it was cool. I should also mention that our sound man this final night with Lusca was the best and craziest I've ever met. It turns out that this day gig is as a chiropractor - I wasn't sure where he was going when he told me to take two steps down and turn around, and as he then proceeded to embed his knee into my spine and pull my shoulders back - but, he assured me that he was a licensed practitioner. However, when he offered to crack my neck for me, I declined.
The next day promised to be as unbearably hot as the last so as Mike and Ingrid made their way to their train home in the early a.m., we got up to see as much of Budapest's historic centre as possible before noon. We mostly just strolled along Danube (we've seen a lot of this very, very long river over the last year) opposite the parliament for as long as we could stand being in direct sunlight and then made our way up to the castle district to take in the view.
Closer up...
I have to admit to disappointment as we reached Budapest's suburbs on the way in and out of town - they kind of reminded me of Oakland, CA as seen from the freeway...
I'm not altogether positive of the demographic that is readers of this, particular account of my life and doings, but I have big news for surely some of you. Maybe not for "you" you, but very possibly for you!
The weather is bordering on swelter, with a few hours of simmer thrown in each day, for most of the northern hemisphere these days and you might not want to think about things to come in December but I have to and as a reader, you will too.
City of Craft - my home within my other home back in Toronto has now opened the call for vendors and installations. The city has annexed (in a very good way), and installations are now a major focus of the show. Local and international proposals are certainly welcome. If you know someone who this should reach, please spread the word! To apply, go here!
But, first it was a stormy night in Lyon. We found ourselves back at Sonic and playing with our friends Troum. This is also a favorite venue of mine. The obvious reasons are that it's a boat in a really beautiful city with portholes that one could look out at the city through.
The other reasons probably have something to do with us playing with good friends here and Pierre, who's books our shows, is one mega-amazing cook. Inevitably, though, a night in Lyon means a night in Pierre's crazy apartment on the top floor of building that is older than Canada.
Next up, Paris!
We arrived a day early to our really great accommodations care of Ziad, who essentially gave us his apartment while we were in town. Also, just a few blocks from the venue, Les Instants Chavirés, where that night Peter Brötzmann and his pals were free-jazzing it. Lucky, as we sometimes get.
It was pouring rain as we attempted to whip around the city, but whip around we did to the basics, as it was a sad Monday and the museums were closed. Eric took some great pictures and you should look HERE for his account of how things went down.
The show itself was pretty great and the super soundguy even taught me a neato trick to keep my crappy bass grounded - I, of course, then worried about potential electric shocks; but then, I tend to create terrifying scenarios in my head that aren't likely to occur.
We left Genova and took the scenic coastal route along the Mediterranean - we had a bit of a rough start as the Italian Riviera is seriously congested with both people and cars and pedestrians think that just because traffic is moving slowly it doesn't mean that they will not walk into cars and freak everybody the hell out.
I was pretty excited to wade into the Mediterranean, but as we pulled over in Menton, FR and wandered over to the shore, I'll admit it was pretty icky. However, I was kind of determined so we found a rocky little chunk of shoreline that didn't have any visible garbage floating in the immediate surf and in I went, only to emerge with itchy legs...
I guess it's all pretty resorty along this coast, that is, unless you're 'that' kind of rich and we were not, so we moved along to stay with friends we've never met who live in the lovely country side of Provence.
I just have to say here that a day off with Jerome, Alex, Jules, Charlotte, and one crazy kitten was exactly what we all needed. We were met with good food and the sweetest, nicest family in all of France.
La tres jolie Charlotte was my stand-in as I took a couple shots of really beautiful and old Pertuis.
After a really dizzying drive over, through and around and around the Italian Alps, we arrived in Brescia (IT) to play a really weird show in a restaurant. We felt oddly unwelcome, but this is only because of the way things are done here and we were probably just as welcome as any band that comes here - I'm not exactly sure on specifics of how things are actually done, but it was strange and we slept in the restaurant owner's apartment, in the room next to his grandmother's. (Actually, our suspicions lead us to believe there was no grandmother on the premises and he just didn't want us to use his couch pillows to cushion the floor a couple of us slept on; but, I digress...)
We were fed really well and drank some great Campari cocktails. Also, we played pingpong.
I really sadly didn't get to see either Venice or Milan as we drove through Northern Italy, but we stopped for lunch in tiny town near a fountain and a church.
Our next stop in Genova was both a treat and possibly the scariest driving exercise I've ever had to endure. It's a really big, old city built on a cliff at what seems like an 85 degree angle. If you miss your turnoff, you have to drive up the mountain and then back down, all on really curvy and very narrow alleys - with really tight u-turns, all with a couple dozen death-wishing scooters buzzing madly around at all times. We finally found our way to Burrida, a huge old villa turned arts complex perched on a hill - but also down into a valley.
On a short walk:
Today, we set out along the Italian Riviera and into the French version making a pit stop in Menton, FR to wade into the surprising dirty Mediterranean before our day off in Provence.
Ciao.
