Almost 10am and am writing from the downstairs bus lounge. In a parking lot in Leipzig. Day off. Show tomorrow but got here last night. Staring out at greenery and trees and the intro of some trails that Germans had the sense to forge through every section of woods. I’m happy to be back in Germany and walked the city yesterday twice, seven miles. Volksmarching for love. We’ve added a show here on Saturday as well, playing with Front 242 and Covenant, both who I am a fan of, at the Wave Gottik Treffen Festival.
On foot and in and out of feeling. The air smells the same as it did when I was in high school in Stuttgart in the early 90’s. People look the same. Buildings, train stations all look the same. The pedestrian main walking market street holds the same stores selling the same things. Peeking inside bars and the men leaning on the counter have been posted up for decades. They served me when I was 13. All of these interchangeable beautiful, useless lives and different-same experiences. Some kids skateboarding. Could have been me. But it’s thirty years later and I think I see a bridge from the past to this day, worn and wonderful and worrisome and without too much second guessing, my next step lands directly in front of the previous one, precisely where it’s meant to land, the way you tear on stage because you catch a glimpse of some God in the rafters because nothing else aligned to any semblance of sense.
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We stop to eat. One chef asks if we are a hardcore punk band. Another asks if we are the openers for Depeche Mode. Neither are wrong.
Thinking of a certain day in 1994. I was feeling more comfortable with taking off from school. I knew there was a new Jesus and Mary Chain album coming out because they’d been playing “Sometime Always” on 120 minutes for a couple weeks. I grabbed by board from my locker during lunch and skated off the military base to the train station in Vaihingen, passing the University where I’d end up playing a show years later in 2010. Made it to the record store and bought the “Stoned and Dethroned” CD that was released that day. Music speaks to you when the rest of the world won’t. Of course skipping out on school had some potential consequences but I weighed it all out and not having this new soundtrack had worse ones. I carry some version of that hole I needed to fill to this day. I think maybe that’s how you end up on tour with Depeche Mode after shapeshifting a broken thrift store found Casio SK-1 into a band or career or whatever I’m doing may be. When you need something and love something so much, you just follow some instinctual, invisible lead from some gutter toward some stars. I made that trip a few times. Mary Chain’s “Hole” is playing now. I’m sipping coffee. In-between worlds, both here and not here, both now and then. Sad grateful portal. Through this time travel… a little wisdom, a few frown lines, some cool tunes.
I moved to Germany in 1993 after a one year stay in Carlisle, PA. It was tough because as you may have gathered, I’m a romantic. Started finding myself that year. Went to a few shows. Went to a couple midnight showings of Rocky Horror in Mount Holly Springs a few towns over. I never got used to the air there or the 200 acres of farm we lived on, in walking distance to nothing but more nothing. So landing in Germany was okay with me culturally. I can easily put myself in the temporary military base housing we lived in for a few weeks until our apartment was ready. I searched for MTV and one of the first videos I saw on that first day was Sisters’ “Temple Of Love (1992)”… it was ripe with songs that appealed to me. Standing side stage two nights ago hearing Depeche Mode playing “Walking In My Shoes” and I take a trip to the same year and apartment and the song plays in every memory I have from then. I can’t project or place my finger firmly on any pulse. Find me wading through dirty waters of any year half-lived in headphones out of conversation. Maybe musical dependence is based on the twisted tongue that trips over itself any time it tries to tell the truth. I don’t know. The building I lived in then was void of character, sad, more tan, but looked like this:
There are two shows left with Depeche. Stockholm was 50,000 people. Tomorrow in Leipzig will be 70-80,000. I feel no pressure because it’s not my show. Even so I’m surprised at my comfort level while playing. It’s easier than playing a club full of a few hundred people who know too much about you, are supportive half of the time, with awry opinion and moving motives. DM members and crew keep saying how well it;’s going over and relayed horror stories of how it usually goes for their openers. I find their dedicated fans that arrive early for the best spots to be beautifully dedicated and warm and open. And online the fan groups have been really kind to us. I guess they can sense their own.
Stockholm was a great show for us. Naturally we will find the groove as it ends. The mix was right finally. The day before the show we met my friend Dennis Lyxzén from the Swedish band Refused, along with Hilda (INVSN) and Magnus (Refused) at the vegan restaurant Hermans which overlooks the city. Ran into Martin Gore there also. After lunch Dennis took us to An Ideal For Living which had an incredible stock of used vinyl. Everywhere I looked I saw a record that took me years to find, all hiding in one place. Lately I’ve been excited about bootlegs and Amy likes collecting interview discs so we picked up a few and Rainer picked out a Devo record and the Gene Simmons’ solo album. Later that evening we went to see Dennis and Magnus play in their doom-jazz project with Mats Gustaffson, a name I’m aware of but didn’t know it was him playing until after the show. Anyway, this show was in an old terminal on the Baltic. A great Monday really.
Actually the night before I left for Whitby & London a few weeks ago, I went to see another band of Dennis’ at Zebulon in LA. They’re called Fake Names and the show was great. HardDCore & revolution summer alumni, sounding like a perfect mix of Embrace and Dag Nasty. Was killer to see Dennis sing with Brian Baker and Brendan Canty.
Kenneth Anger has passed. Have not seen him waiting at the bus stop in Hollywood in a few years. Scorpio rises once more. I need to start my day which maybe has already or never will. I can’t tell. It’s 11 am now. The hero and private dancer has departed too. Overcast but no rain. Find a shower. Stay up. Fight for the present and to remain in it. Appreciation and gratitude vs. the black sludge and all things must end. It’s beyond beautiful to watch Depeche Mode deliver like no other. Sun is stretching across clouds now. Now playing “Condemnation” - I trust you are well.
More soon…
How is your writing so beautiful?
So happy to read that you keep enjoying the tour! Wish you did the whole tour with DM.
I can't miss you playing a club stage, so tonight I'm taking a night bus to Leipzig to go to WGT for the second time ever. First time was in 2016, which feels like a painfully different lifetime ago. This spontaneous trip just one week after Amsterdam gives me a sense of adventure and makes the present worth fighting for. Thank you for it.
Oh, and I just love the way you title your posts.
Hi! So happy to hear your feet landing. Does your heel hang mid heavens sometimes, too? Ether-slowed to sub slo-mo, for god knows how long, trust. Each step forward. Each a million micro lifetimes of weather and a time for every purpose. That's a feeling. Also for us black. Sludgy. The weapons always work though, they always for for You. You know, "Headhunter" still gets 'em moving-there was a sound there for sure. Front 242 Seattle Moore Theater, '92 maybe. Someone drove by and snapped a pic of me waiting in line outside to get in. Convinced it was bc I was fat and ugly, a sort of morbid curiosity to collect and preserve. Up in the balcony air banging my head into oblivion - no drugs or alcohol of course, so doing whatever it takes, and it was great.