Dear Reader. Go back in time with Future Kev, back to April 16…….
Two weeks gone now, and only a half dozen shows or so, and I’m already bored with myself. I have zero ability to convincingly bullshit my way through a whole set and act like I really believe you should do yourself a favor and listen to me. I mean, usually I do think that if you give me a chance you’ll be very slightly better off than you were before. Only incrementally better off, but everything counts. And so, when I realize I have the creeping self-boredom stealing over me, it’s a very real problem.
Yesterday was Sunday, and it turned out my gig was at four in the afternoon. I was happy about that, because I was very tired, and the thought of having an early evening to catch up on emails and maybe skype a family member or two sounded great. I was hungry, tired and my gig was in a part of Holland whose people had been described to me as ‘reserved’. They were perfectly nice, I liked them, but frankly they only seemed mildly entertained, and that was dangerous because I was only mildly entertained too. I sort of needed a crowd that liked me a lot more than I deserved, because that could have helped. I could have basked a little. Fed off their energy like the life-sucking death eater I had become. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.
But no, as it turned out they seemed to have a pretty good read on me, and though we all gamely tried to rise above it all I don’t really think we did.
Tomorrow is a travel day, and most of the day after. Heading to somewhere around Munich. I’m going to be thinking this over.
Oh hi. Yeah, yesterday was the travel day, and so is today. We drove down through Holland and Belgium on the small roads mostly, and it was beautiful. Winding roads through low mountains and pretty little villages down in the valleys. We didn’t make great time but that was ok. We stopped almost randomly in a town called Trier, found a decent old hotel in the town center and a nice restaurant right down the street. Being my first night in Germany in many many years, and probably only the second at all in forever, I was hungry for a real German meal, and I scored that, along with many glasses of good beer. Later on I went back out, to a bar I had noticed which was right next door to the hotel. I was surprised when I went in to find that it was a hookah bar. It was, naturally, very smoky, but in that incense way. They were smoking tobacco but it didn’t smell anything like a pool hall or an old Norwegian folk club. I read and drank a few beers and had a couple shots of Old Havanna (cheers Poul). When I slept finally I had Russian dreams all night it seems. My dreams were gray and endless, and when I woke up this morning I was in Germany and there were colors. My tour manager Joanna was waiting for me in her apartment across the hall. She had been up researching this town, Trier. It turns out it’s the oldest town in Germany. As we were pulling in the evening before I saw what were obviously Roman ruins, and about half jokingly speculated that they were older than Jesus. Turns out that in fact they are, having been built during the First Century BC. What’s more, right across the street from us stood Karl Marx’s house. He was born right there and raised, and when he took off for the rest of the world, that’s the house he said goodbye to. I know now that there are lots of things to see in Trier, and if I ever get back there I’m going to plan for it.
I’ll close for now, so that I can watch through the windshield, practice my silent scream and exercise my sphincter as Joanna slams her brakes on so she doesn’t crash into cars that are not, possibly because it’s raining, going 140 kph. It’s a good thing she’s such a skilled driver, because otherwise we would already be dead, and I would never get to go back to Trier. [OK, that wasn’t fair. Everybody over here drives like that, and probably if you don’t you cause huge pile-ups. future kev]
April 29. I’m hopping over the whole Scotland/England run here, some of which I’ve talked about in earlier chapters, just to get back to what you do when you get bored with your set, with yourself. I’ve been dragging out old songs every night, not many, just a few, but each night trying out something that’s been laying around getting dusty. I’ve been playing stuff that is hard to navigate with this thumb problem, some of the worst contenders, and it’s been amusing and strange, but the only thing I can think to do is to go up against it and try real hard. Trying to get better with the pick, and dynamics, stuff like that. I’m playing better, the shows are getting better, and I’m not bored anymore.
Anyway, I gotta go to sleep, I’m heading to Belfast tomorrow, and I have a serious repack to figure out in the morning. I’ll talk to you after that.