Tuesday 18 February 2014

Bread and Circuses

The next gig is upon me and this is now feeling like a tour, as there is little time to luxuriate over the success of the previous night because we have a new conquest to attempt. We are now traveling to another district, we are going to Pocos de Caldas/SP

This turned out to be a very long drive in some appalling road conditions as the rain became torrential and took four or five hours, I can't remember exactly it was so long. The first part of the journey was watching a huge sprawling urban environment roll pass us and as we approached the countryside the light failed and I found myself in the 'Catch 22' of 'seeing the world in a band', the catch is, you don't, you just see motorways and sometimes you see motorways during the day. Finally out in the darkness of a hilly town in a ramshackle street is the club we are to play in, the 'Drinks and Parts'. The club is fantastic in performance space and quality of stage and PA. It has a feeling of Americana about it, you know, good ole boys, Budweiser, blues and whiskey. Have no doubt, this is a rock bar!

However the most jarring thing about it to my gentil northern European sensibilities was the broadcasting on the back wall of the stage and on a flat screen in the pool area of some kind of wrestling that only came over to me as some homo erotic pleasure dome. It is apparently really, really big in Brazil but to me the sight of big muscle bound men with sweaty bodies pinning each other down to the floor and in their pseudo fight for survival were rubbing their themselves together, sometimes a head resting on a chest like an act of love then next punching, kicking and brutal domination and there they were, raping without rape, killing without killing but the brutality was there, that wasn't simulated. I was appalled and the worst thing, I couldn't take my eyes off it, but was that because of my European sensibilities or does it have a dark fascination for everyone? It's not as far as I know my sexuality, I do not have any hang ups, I am comfortable with my sexuality and others if they may be different. This, to me, it has connotations of slavery, of cruel domination of those who own others, of brutality for the sexual arousal of others, that is the real pornography.

Bread and circuses, bread and circuses, it's always the same.

One of the strangest things I found in my short time so far in Brazil is that people will say to me would you like a drink and I would say "oh, yes please and instead of buying me a beer they offer up their glass of spirit for me to take a swig. In the band, glasses of spirits are a communal thing like sharing a cigarette or a joint.

The strangest occurrence of this was in this bar where a guy was sitting at a table and he looks at me and says "Steve Drewett" and I say "yes that is me" and he replies, I love your band and I never thought I'd ever get to see you. I think your Beggers Can Be Choosers is awesome. Hey would you like a drink and I say as usual " oh yes please that would be nice and he then offers up his tin of beer that he had been nursing for god knows how long and once I realise that I say " er, that's alright don't worry"

I am acutely aware of this sharing thing because I have a cold and I don't want to pass it around but me and the band have shared things and none of them caught my cold. I don't get it.

Unfortunately the heavy rain and the bar's age restriction had depleted the audience so we took the stage to a smaller than hoped for crowd. This was not going to have the same specialness of the night before despite having better facilities but every gig is a fight to convince others of your greatness and you work with what you've got.

It was nonetheless an enjoyable blast but it was hard too. I'm almost working a different amp every night, something I have never done before and I have become very adaptable but to be quite honest you can keep your Roland Jazz crap thing with it's crap distortion knob.

Anyway, we finish and soak up praise from both audience and bar owners. We take a little time to hang, for we have a tour bus and a sober little old man who will take us home and eventually we clamber on board with a few beers and some weed to smooth things along. I fall asleep in the dark and wake in the morning to see the slightest hint of jungle receding in the mist before the urban environment fell upon us again like Jenga blocks.

I got dropped off at 9am and we go to the next gig at 5pm but I am confused now with the time because summer time has ended here and we have now gained an hour or have we lost it, I don't know. I am as confused as in England at this type of change,

My voice is going through some punishment without enough rest to fully recover but finally I fall into bed and then I get out of bed.

Welcome to gig three.

 

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