I'm going to the beach today for some much needed R&Aaaaaahhhhhh.
First Demente has to play dodgems with the traffic of Sao Paulo to escape the city and then we are on the road of freedom, the motorway! Only there is a riot taking place ahead of us and the traffic has come to a stand still. We decide then to get off of that road and find an alternative route.We managed to do that without too much of a problem, only to find that the alternative motorway had had an accident on it, and it too had ground to a halt. We sat for some time in the sweltering heat as a thunderstorm broke over us. Apparently Sao Paulo was going to experience extreme flooding and we so wanted to get away from both the city and the gathering storm, that it made it unbearable to be stationary in a traffic jam. Then we heard that the riot had finished and our original route was clear again, aaaaahhhhhh. That was the last straw, we pulled off of that motorway and went looking for the other. Eventually we were back on track after losing an hour or two, trying to outrun the storm.
As we drew near the coast, we could see the original trees and vegetation that used to exist in Sao Paulo but is all but gone, Atlantic forest I believe it was called. At last we reach the town of Itanhaém and we seek out an old friend of Demente called Meire. Whilst in her house I also get the pleasure of meet her daughters Bianca and Beatriz and her son Matheus. I am made to feel very welcome and we drink coffee and Meire tells me about the old days. She was an original Sao Paulo punk rocker and had worked with thousands of bands. She showed me the posters she had collected over the years and one that caught my eye was a Sao Paulo birthday party bash for Joey Ramone which was attended by all the other original Ramones plus many other punk rock celebrities.I would have loved to have been at that.
She tells me that Sao Paulo was slowly killing her, so she saved up enough money to buy a place near the beach and although she is poorer for it, the life is richer. Strangely, here the poor live near the beach and the rich in the cities.
So all three of us take off for the beach but it is overcast and raining, just like England. But it is not really the same. Actually it is a different experience to a sunny beach trip but it is wonderful nonetheless.
I feel silly, I am as white as a clean piece of paper, I have left my t shirt in the car as it is the only top I have and need to keep it dry. I don't want to chance carrying my phone in my swimming trunks pocket so that put paid to any atmospheric photographs of the beach. The thunderstorm rumbled ominously in the distance and Meire said we couldn't go swimming in a thunderstorm because if lightening hit any part of the water it would fry us, however it fizzled out, so Demente and I ventured in. It was so weird for me as the water was brown like at most English beaches but the difference was it very warm, warmer in-fact than my local swimming pool. Demente, being Brazilian didn't think it was very warm at all. For me the rain was warm and so was the wind so I didn't really need the sun.
So we had a nice swim and we were both amazed at gaining a little friend in the shape of a tiny dark angel fish who followed us everywhere. No matter where we swam, it was there, when I was floating on my back, it would like to swim along my chest as if to take a closer look at my face. Every now and then he would change from me to Demente. It was either a very friendly fish or had the curiosity of a cat-fish.
After a good swim we decided to get out and return to Meire who was looking after our sandals. We then parted company with her and went into town to look around and have some dinner and a few beers at a table outside a restaurant. As we watched the world go by, we were confronted by some unusual sights such as a beautiful young girl with her hair tied up in a dark bun, wearing a pure white silky dress in a sort of ballerina style, looking for all the world that she was going to a dance. The only problem was she had a massive cast on her leg and was hobbling at about a five foot an hour.It was painful to watch.
Later a similar looking girl cycles past us with her neck in a brace and we began to wonder if it is dangerous to be female in Itanhaém, but that thought was swept away when another girl breaks of from her group of females friends and says to Demente, "I'm sorry, I'm bit embarrassed about this but my friend fancies you and she asked me if I would ask you, if you would go out with her". Demente smiles, turns on the charm and says he is very flattered that her friend would like to go out with him but he already has a girlfriend. And I thought that sort of thing only happened in Harlow.
Just as I thought we were leaving to go home, we pick up Meire again and I am shown a high view point from which not a lot can be seen at night time apart from lovers having a bit of private time and a house that is now a squat. It was once the show home of a developer who wanted to build loads of luxury apartments on this high cliff but was stopped in his tracks by local opposition. A luxury squat it is now overlooking one of the best views of the Atlantic ocean.
I am also informed that this town was the first ever (non-indigenous) settlement in the whole country, so modern Brazil started here. A little way away, is a place that has the distinction of having the most recorded sightings of UFO's in the whole world. Hhhhmmm, I used to be sceptical about UFO's because of the vast distances that they would have to travel to get here, but as more and more Exo-planets are being discovered, some being quite near to us, I now begin to wonder if those distances are not as huge as originally thought. It's a small world and now a smaller universe and they like to come to Brazil for some reason.
After being in this county for some time, I am quite laid back now but I have been a little concerned that we need to get back to Sao Paulo soon as I leave for Brasilia in the morning and we have quite a drive back. At this point Demente realises how late it is and we quickly call it a day, make our goodbyes and hit the road.
As we drive back, we discuss what we have to do and it isn't easy for both of us, especially as we need to squeeze as much merchandise as we can into my hand luggage plus personal effects and I still have to do a wash of some socks and t-shirts that I need to perform in. They will not be dry in the morning so I will have to hang them up somewhere in Brasilia or on the wings of the plane.
As we bounce up and down through the city, I have a sinking feeling that I am not going to be getting much sleep tonight and I will be dog tired at a time I will be leaving my Sao Paulo friends, who I love dearly and heading off, on my own to a strange city, meeting new people and rehearsing with a completely new band and I will feel like death warmed up when I arrive.
Oh hum, what's new?
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Monday, 24 February 2014
I am an Alessi Pleasure squeezer!
The final gig of this week is also the final in Sao Paulo before I move off on to Brazilia to do three gigs.The venue is our rehearsal studio but as it also has a stage in it, it can and does often become a host to gigs. The journey for me is negligible and the surroundings are familiar.
The response to the gig is phenomenal, bringing in twice as many people as expected, making it wall to wall in there. That was fantastic but it brought with it a problem, the heat was unbearable. It was so hot in there that the evaporated sweat was pouring down the walls in a stream. When we prepare to take the stage we can barely breathe. The only stage light is one red bulb, that must be the most rudimentary stage lighting I have ever performed under and I was just about able to see what I was doing.
Until, someone starts filming with a professional camera. Now I know that it is impossible to manage filming done by people with cameras in their phones but when someone is filming with something as big as a profressional camera, you would expect that person to gain some permission to do the filming, but no, not this person.
It is a shame he did not, because he is a big Neurotics fan, we could have worked something out for him, but no! Out of the blue he comes on with this thing with a blinding white light to help him film in crisp high definition. The effect on me, who has little or no light to counteract his, means as he keeps trying to film from below I cannot see anything but blinding light. Despite my shades I cannot see anything of my guitar neck or fret board. He keeps on sticking it in our faces too, with no idea of how obtrusive it is. He has just changed a difficult lighting situation into an impossible one and is now helping to ruin the beginning of our set. As soon as I finish with 'Wake Up' which was a mess because of him, I shout at him to stop it, the light has to go off. Eventually he films in ambient light which is fine and we try our best to turn a mess into The Mess, which takes off to a thunderous start.
Each time we finish a song we have to have a moment to breathe a bit. I am being filmed by multiple cameras and also there are a couple of professional looking photographers there all capturing the snot, sweat and gunk coming out of every facial orifice, not nice!
In this heat, I am struggling but I've mentally calculated that I think I can just make it through the entire set, just.
The scene in front of me is astonishing, the audience are going wild, they don't care about the heat and here's the thing, they are singing along and often drown out our vocals, I have never known anything like it and these moments are going to be cherished by me for years to come. It reminded me of the Cavern in Liverpool in the sixties where there was no ventilation at all and those nights at the birth of rock 'n' roll caused the smoke, the perfume the sweat to coalesce on the ceiling and drip onto the heads of the kids in the audience. Our night was a bit like that, we're not the Beatles but this was down to earth no nonsense dirty, sweaty rock 'n' roll, straight from the heart to the heart with no corporate nonsense in-between. Grade A content shot straight into the vein of desire to create a need for more, more, more bullshit free rock. Down with corporate music, down with the music corporations who what to keep us in our places, down with corporate influences who wants creativity to fit the right shapes. It shouldn't, be awkward, that's what it is all about. Be different, don't follow, lead!
Don't take No for an answer, take it as a challenge.
The sweat is now running down the inside of my shades so that the entire audience looks like one, a seething sea of excitement, I'm still trying to play my music accurately but the only place I can clearly see is directly below me, when I am not looking through my glasses. I look at the puddle at my feet, the sweat dripping off my arms, my soaking clothes, the waterfall of a face and I am alarmed.
I didn't know I had that much water in me and now I definitely don't. Soon in a desperate measure, my body will be forced to take water from my brain and then I will fall, guitar around my neck in to the very audience that normally sustains me.
But I am one stubborn sonofabitch and I want to complete this set, I can do this and I will do it. I am enjoying this and I will squeeze every drop of pleasure out of this moment, I am an Alessi Pleasure Squeezer, rain it down on meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
We finish the number, Demente comes over and says that David is feeling really ill because of the heat and can't do the full set.
That is fine, that is completely understandable, drummers have the most physical job in a band such as this, if I am struggling, then he definitely would be. He valiantly agrees to do three more numbers which only leaves a couple we dont do. I know it's cruel, but I think, Brazilians Nil, Pasty Northern Europeans One....yes!
We finish to deafening applause and do not go back on, we are done, we are finished.
Yes and I am still standing, and after I do some photo posing for people and have secured my guitar, I accept some help worthy of James Brown and his stage managed feints when he is helped from the stage because he is so funked up. Mine has a little more reality and I was lead by a punk down some very steep steps out into the street where I catch a breeze and begin to recover.
There isn't a single scrap of my clothes that is not soaking, I needed ringing out.The punk offers me some of his cold water and I would dearly loved to have finished it all but I guzzled heartily and then gave it back.
I then happily sign some cd's and records as I am beginning to come around.
This is the greatest gig of the tour so far, in a few days time I will be leaving for Brasília and another backing band, the Brasilia Neurotics perhaps?
Could it better this.
We shall see.
The response to the gig is phenomenal, bringing in twice as many people as expected, making it wall to wall in there. That was fantastic but it brought with it a problem, the heat was unbearable. It was so hot in there that the evaporated sweat was pouring down the walls in a stream. When we prepare to take the stage we can barely breathe. The only stage light is one red bulb, that must be the most rudimentary stage lighting I have ever performed under and I was just about able to see what I was doing.
Until, someone starts filming with a professional camera. Now I know that it is impossible to manage filming done by people with cameras in their phones but when someone is filming with something as big as a profressional camera, you would expect that person to gain some permission to do the filming, but no, not this person.
It is a shame he did not, because he is a big Neurotics fan, we could have worked something out for him, but no! Out of the blue he comes on with this thing with a blinding white light to help him film in crisp high definition. The effect on me, who has little or no light to counteract his, means as he keeps trying to film from below I cannot see anything but blinding light. Despite my shades I cannot see anything of my guitar neck or fret board. He keeps on sticking it in our faces too, with no idea of how obtrusive it is. He has just changed a difficult lighting situation into an impossible one and is now helping to ruin the beginning of our set. As soon as I finish with 'Wake Up' which was a mess because of him, I shout at him to stop it, the light has to go off. Eventually he films in ambient light which is fine and we try our best to turn a mess into The Mess, which takes off to a thunderous start.
Each time we finish a song we have to have a moment to breathe a bit. I am being filmed by multiple cameras and also there are a couple of professional looking photographers there all capturing the snot, sweat and gunk coming out of every facial orifice, not nice!
In this heat, I am struggling but I've mentally calculated that I think I can just make it through the entire set, just.
The scene in front of me is astonishing, the audience are going wild, they don't care about the heat and here's the thing, they are singing along and often drown out our vocals, I have never known anything like it and these moments are going to be cherished by me for years to come. It reminded me of the Cavern in Liverpool in the sixties where there was no ventilation at all and those nights at the birth of rock 'n' roll caused the smoke, the perfume the sweat to coalesce on the ceiling and drip onto the heads of the kids in the audience. Our night was a bit like that, we're not the Beatles but this was down to earth no nonsense dirty, sweaty rock 'n' roll, straight from the heart to the heart with no corporate nonsense in-between. Grade A content shot straight into the vein of desire to create a need for more, more, more bullshit free rock. Down with corporate music, down with the music corporations who what to keep us in our places, down with corporate influences who wants creativity to fit the right shapes. It shouldn't, be awkward, that's what it is all about. Be different, don't follow, lead!
Don't take No for an answer, take it as a challenge.
The sweat is now running down the inside of my shades so that the entire audience looks like one, a seething sea of excitement, I'm still trying to play my music accurately but the only place I can clearly see is directly below me, when I am not looking through my glasses. I look at the puddle at my feet, the sweat dripping off my arms, my soaking clothes, the waterfall of a face and I am alarmed.
I didn't know I had that much water in me and now I definitely don't. Soon in a desperate measure, my body will be forced to take water from my brain and then I will fall, guitar around my neck in to the very audience that normally sustains me.
But I am one stubborn sonofabitch and I want to complete this set, I can do this and I will do it. I am enjoying this and I will squeeze every drop of pleasure out of this moment, I am an Alessi Pleasure Squeezer, rain it down on meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
We finish the number, Demente comes over and says that David is feeling really ill because of the heat and can't do the full set.
That is fine, that is completely understandable, drummers have the most physical job in a band such as this, if I am struggling, then he definitely would be. He valiantly agrees to do three more numbers which only leaves a couple we dont do. I know it's cruel, but I think, Brazilians Nil, Pasty Northern Europeans One....yes!
We finish to deafening applause and do not go back on, we are done, we are finished.
Yes and I am still standing, and after I do some photo posing for people and have secured my guitar, I accept some help worthy of James Brown and his stage managed feints when he is helped from the stage because he is so funked up. Mine has a little more reality and I was lead by a punk down some very steep steps out into the street where I catch a breeze and begin to recover.
There isn't a single scrap of my clothes that is not soaking, I needed ringing out.The punk offers me some of his cold water and I would dearly loved to have finished it all but I guzzled heartily and then gave it back.
I then happily sign some cd's and records as I am beginning to come around.
This is the greatest gig of the tour so far, in a few days time I will be leaving for Brasília and another backing band, the Brasilia Neurotics perhaps?
Could it better this.
We shall see.
The night we needed a little bit of magic and a book on the table.
Gig two of the second week and we are heading out to the east of Sao Paulo to what is expected to be a very good gig. On the way Demente pulls over for some food but I am not too hungry as I was treated earlier to a late lunch by Isabela's mum along with Isabela and her boyfriend Bruno. The restaurant was very, very good and I had some of the best steak I have ever eaten out side of Gallagher's in Manhattan, New York. A lovely afternoon meal. And so now I am not too hungry but I am aware that the lunch was a few hours ago and that I do need to line my stomach for the evening ahead.
Many of these streets have shops and businesses open during the day I guess, but at night time there is no friendly, lit up shop window displays, all is shuttered and locked up tight. That can make the streets look very desolate in the evening and there was no exception to the one we had just pulled into. Nonetheless out in the dark on a street corner there is a vibrant little bar full of people enjoying a meal out and a drink. Customers were arriving as others left so it was a popular little place and I liked the vibe very much.
Now Demente want's to treat me to the second best meal in Brazil when he asks, "are you hungry Steve?" I reply "not too hungry but it would be a good idea for me to have a light bite".
What do I get.....?
Piranha Soup, a light bite indeed!
There is a lot of Piranha in Brazil so they make a soup of them and it is very tasty indeed. It was in-fact (for me) a very tasty and unusual meal, just what I needed. But I couldn't get those beady eyes of those angry/deadly little fish out of my mind, they look eternally hacked off.
We have the usual difficult traversing of the big city but it isn't too long to drive to this one. I have a general feeling of insecurity whenever I turn up at a new venue, especially when the concert has already started. Arriving later in the evening is very good in one way though, because it saves hanging around in a hot gig just waiting to take the stage. On this occasion it was very lucky we were not there earlier.
Here is the ignorant little me story of arriving at the club.
I don't like the look of the place from the outside, the building is crumbling but it appears to have a newish elaborate metal walkway from the entrance, across the car park into the club. It's almost like it
got hold of a grant that could only be used on a walkway and not repairs on the hall. It was overkill and looked weird.
Anyway once in, I do not like the look of the stage, the PA, or the guitar amplifier I am to use. I have never heard of the make before and the band I see using the amp, do not get much of a decent sound out of it.
However, there is something very magnificent about its crumbling glory on the inside and I begin the usual acclimatisation to a new club. I am greeted very warmly when I walk in and everyone is making sure I get a beer as soon as possible. The owner greets me and tells me there was some trouble earlier but it is all over now, also that it is his birthday that very evening and that his nickname is feio which is Portuguese for ugly. Hhhmmm, strangely he didn't look ugly at all, in fact he was quite good looking. All these other weird and wonderful facts buried the news in my mind of the earlier trouble and I relaxed, leaning on the bar drinking a beer and thinking about my new surroundings.
Then a thin Brazilian who could speak no English decides to speak non-stop to me and even taps my arm every time I try to look away. The first thing he does is to take my hand and start lightly caressing the underside of it with his fingers. As he looked a bit Indian I thought maybe he had some sort of shaman powers to heal the Dupuytren’s contracture in my hand. I give it two minutes and then decided he was a weirdo and withdrew it. His response was to make a 'V' sign in his hand, place the tips of the two fingers on his closed eyelids and then point the two fingers at me as though there were now eyes on the end. This is too weird, I gotta move.
Demente wanders over and says very honestly, "This is a shit venue isn't it?" I agree, but with some surprise as he booked the gig (maybe he did it though someone else and had not been to this place before). Anyway, I complain that there is very little light on the stage and that the amp is some weird make but he assures me it is a copy of a fender amp and should have a similar sound. He wanders off again. There is a reasonable audience in the room but they are spread out over a large area, some play pool on several tables at the back, there is a sort of side room that you can see from the bar with people in it and some are hanging around just outside to take in the slightly cooler air. I notice in the corner of my eye some people leaving and it irritates me, you're leaving before seeing the Brazilian Neurotics? You have got to be mad!
That was actually the moment the gig was saved for us.
This is Demente's story of our arrival at the venue.
We go in and he sees that there is a very bad element in the club and a poisonous atmosphere, everyone is anxious, he talks to the manager and learns that there was a fight outside earlier between two rival gangs and one of the gangs came back with guns. At this point, Demente realises that we are all potentially in harms way. He tells the manager that this is not good, some bad elements are still in the club and that gang warfare complete with guns could break out at any minute. He tells him he is responsible for the safety of all the people he has brought with him. He tells him that he can keep the money, we are going to blow the gig and get the hell out of there. Demente goes to Isabela and tells her to pack up the merchandise and put it back in the car and he was getting ready to move the guitars back into our transport.
Then, the bad elements leave, fearing the return of their rivals tooled up with firepower and it is then that we decide to stay. Phew.....
I was later chatting to our drummer David whilst we waited to go on and he said, "we are going to have to create some special magic to make this gig work". "Yeah", I reply, "we are going to need some special magic indeed".
Eventually, it is our turn to take the stage and I find that I can just about work in the light that we have got and that the amp sounds fine, much better in fact than for the person who owns it, who played earlier. We are now ready, and I do the opening staccato notes to Wake Up, wondering how all this was going to go. Then...
BANG!
Not the bang of a gun but the bang of a band exploding into life. We can hear each other fine, an audience has thrown themselves down the front and are mouthing all the words. The band is hot and the room is boiling. From where I am, it looks like the' bug bar' under the Mexican hat in Pixar's 'A Bugs Life'' and I can clearly see that we have a good audience, responding well, and people in the back are grooving to the music too as they play pool. Fine!
We are really enjoying ourselves now, to such an extent that when we get to 'Living With Unemployment' there is a bit near the end that David has never been completely clear on what we should be doing. We have had no time to do a run through, so we do it live, I hammer out a constant power chord then let it ring, I then shout to David, "when I start hitting this cord again just do normal crescendo drumming" (whatever that means), I start, he does. Great, again, there is another power chord I have left to ring when I notice David's spare sticks fall in front of the drums. I pick them up hand them to him, all while the chord is still ringing and then I shout, "you now bring us back in as you usually do".
David does exactly that and we moved through the whole of the middle section of 'Living With Employment' correctly and without missing a beat. At this point we realise that we had come up with the magic we so desperately needed and that this had now turned into a great gig.
We and the audience were blown away.
Later I was found having the time of my life with people, chatting, laughing drinking beer and more Cachaça. There was also a very lovely Brazilian woman who couldn't speak much English who kept hugging me and shouting "we love you". Then she told me very earnestly, "The book is on the table" to which I reply (somewhat puzzled but refusing to be fazed), "oh, good", then she said " The book is on the table, do you understand?" and I say "Yes the book is on the table, that's where I like it to be". "No" she says, "do you understand, the book is on the table". Well, I went through that many times with her, without any enlightenment suddenly making an appearance, but it was some bizarre fun. Later I look it up on Google and find it is the first part of an English lesson that all Brazilians studying our language tackle first, and has now become legendary for being used as a way for people who cannot speak much English to say "welcome, we love to have you here". So that's solved then. I continued soaking up the love until I had to be pulled out because the others needed to get home.
Which is just as well as I had overdone it a bit and instead of traveling in Demente's car I felt like I was traveling in a coal mine truck (as in Spielberg's Indiana Jones) which was threatening to come off the rails at any moment. It didn't though.
That was a great gig, now we all needed rest for the next one, and boy, would we need that rest!
Many of these streets have shops and businesses open during the day I guess, but at night time there is no friendly, lit up shop window displays, all is shuttered and locked up tight. That can make the streets look very desolate in the evening and there was no exception to the one we had just pulled into. Nonetheless out in the dark on a street corner there is a vibrant little bar full of people enjoying a meal out and a drink. Customers were arriving as others left so it was a popular little place and I liked the vibe very much.
Now Demente want's to treat me to the second best meal in Brazil when he asks, "are you hungry Steve?" I reply "not too hungry but it would be a good idea for me to have a light bite".
What do I get.....?
Piranha Soup, a light bite indeed!
There is a lot of Piranha in Brazil so they make a soup of them and it is very tasty indeed. It was in-fact (for me) a very tasty and unusual meal, just what I needed. But I couldn't get those beady eyes of those angry/deadly little fish out of my mind, they look eternally hacked off.
We have the usual difficult traversing of the big city but it isn't too long to drive to this one. I have a general feeling of insecurity whenever I turn up at a new venue, especially when the concert has already started. Arriving later in the evening is very good in one way though, because it saves hanging around in a hot gig just waiting to take the stage. On this occasion it was very lucky we were not there earlier.
Here is the ignorant little me story of arriving at the club.
I don't like the look of the place from the outside, the building is crumbling but it appears to have a newish elaborate metal walkway from the entrance, across the car park into the club. It's almost like it
Anyway once in, I do not like the look of the stage, the PA, or the guitar amplifier I am to use. I have never heard of the make before and the band I see using the amp, do not get much of a decent sound out of it.
However, there is something very magnificent about its crumbling glory on the inside and I begin the usual acclimatisation to a new club. I am greeted very warmly when I walk in and everyone is making sure I get a beer as soon as possible. The owner greets me and tells me there was some trouble earlier but it is all over now, also that it is his birthday that very evening and that his nickname is feio which is Portuguese for ugly. Hhhmmm, strangely he didn't look ugly at all, in fact he was quite good looking. All these other weird and wonderful facts buried the news in my mind of the earlier trouble and I relaxed, leaning on the bar drinking a beer and thinking about my new surroundings.
Then a thin Brazilian who could speak no English decides to speak non-stop to me and even taps my arm every time I try to look away. The first thing he does is to take my hand and start lightly caressing the underside of it with his fingers. As he looked a bit Indian I thought maybe he had some sort of shaman powers to heal the Dupuytren’s contracture in my hand. I give it two minutes and then decided he was a weirdo and withdrew it. His response was to make a 'V' sign in his hand, place the tips of the two fingers on his closed eyelids and then point the two fingers at me as though there were now eyes on the end. This is too weird, I gotta move.
Demente wanders over and says very honestly, "This is a shit venue isn't it?" I agree, but with some surprise as he booked the gig (maybe he did it though someone else and had not been to this place before). Anyway, I complain that there is very little light on the stage and that the amp is some weird make but he assures me it is a copy of a fender amp and should have a similar sound. He wanders off again. There is a reasonable audience in the room but they are spread out over a large area, some play pool on several tables at the back, there is a sort of side room that you can see from the bar with people in it and some are hanging around just outside to take in the slightly cooler air. I notice in the corner of my eye some people leaving and it irritates me, you're leaving before seeing the Brazilian Neurotics? You have got to be mad!
That was actually the moment the gig was saved for us.
This is Demente's story of our arrival at the venue.
We go in and he sees that there is a very bad element in the club and a poisonous atmosphere, everyone is anxious, he talks to the manager and learns that there was a fight outside earlier between two rival gangs and one of the gangs came back with guns. At this point, Demente realises that we are all potentially in harms way. He tells the manager that this is not good, some bad elements are still in the club and that gang warfare complete with guns could break out at any minute. He tells him he is responsible for the safety of all the people he has brought with him. He tells him that he can keep the money, we are going to blow the gig and get the hell out of there. Demente goes to Isabela and tells her to pack up the merchandise and put it back in the car and he was getting ready to move the guitars back into our transport.
Then, the bad elements leave, fearing the return of their rivals tooled up with firepower and it is then that we decide to stay. Phew.....
I was later chatting to our drummer David whilst we waited to go on and he said, "we are going to have to create some special magic to make this gig work". "Yeah", I reply, "we are going to need some special magic indeed".
Eventually, it is our turn to take the stage and I find that I can just about work in the light that we have got and that the amp sounds fine, much better in fact than for the person who owns it, who played earlier. We are now ready, and I do the opening staccato notes to Wake Up, wondering how all this was going to go. Then...
BANG!
Not the bang of a gun but the bang of a band exploding into life. We can hear each other fine, an audience has thrown themselves down the front and are mouthing all the words. The band is hot and the room is boiling. From where I am, it looks like the' bug bar' under the Mexican hat in Pixar's 'A Bugs Life'' and I can clearly see that we have a good audience, responding well, and people in the back are grooving to the music too as they play pool. Fine!
We are really enjoying ourselves now, to such an extent that when we get to 'Living With Unemployment' there is a bit near the end that David has never been completely clear on what we should be doing. We have had no time to do a run through, so we do it live, I hammer out a constant power chord then let it ring, I then shout to David, "when I start hitting this cord again just do normal crescendo drumming" (whatever that means), I start, he does. Great, again, there is another power chord I have left to ring when I notice David's spare sticks fall in front of the drums. I pick them up hand them to him, all while the chord is still ringing and then I shout, "you now bring us back in as you usually do".
David does exactly that and we moved through the whole of the middle section of 'Living With Employment' correctly and without missing a beat. At this point we realise that we had come up with the magic we so desperately needed and that this had now turned into a great gig.
We and the audience were blown away.
Later I was found having the time of my life with people, chatting, laughing drinking beer and more Cachaça. There was also a very lovely Brazilian woman who couldn't speak much English who kept hugging me and shouting "we love you". Then she told me very earnestly, "The book is on the table" to which I reply (somewhat puzzled but refusing to be fazed), "oh, good", then she said " The book is on the table, do you understand?" and I say "Yes the book is on the table, that's where I like it to be". "No" she says, "do you understand, the book is on the table". Well, I went through that many times with her, without any enlightenment suddenly making an appearance, but it was some bizarre fun. Later I look it up on Google and find it is the first part of an English lesson that all Brazilians studying our language tackle first, and has now become legendary for being used as a way for people who cannot speak much English to say "welcome, we love to have you here". So that's solved then. I continued soaking up the love until I had to be pulled out because the others needed to get home.
Which is just as well as I had overdone it a bit and instead of traveling in Demente's car I felt like I was traveling in a coal mine truck (as in Spielberg's Indiana Jones) which was threatening to come off the rails at any moment. It didn't though.
That was a great gig, now we all needed rest for the next one, and boy, would we need that rest!
Sunday, 23 February 2014
It's a family affair, it's a family affair!
Wow, does this city never end? Gig one of the next part of the tour is at Cordeiropolis so we are going from Megatropolis to Cordeiropolis and the journey is a two hour hurtle in very heavy Friday night traffic.
The outlook is alarming and constant but once over half way it quietens down a bit and then we gain a waiting motorcyclist who gives us a motorcycle escort right to the door of the gig.
It is a long way out here, as we enter the town Demente says "Welcome to the Twilight Zone"
We arrive to a concrete bar with veranda with a performance space at the end. It seems normally to cater for refreshments for a couple sports courts next to it but tonight it is punk night, bands are already playing ( well I say already, it is one o'clock in the morning) and I am knocked off of my feet to be mobbed by fans. But not just any fans, no this is a first. This is a family and every one of them is a Neurotics fan, I think they consisted of Mum, Dad, Uncle, Aunt, four sons and a daughter. One of their boys can speak English and he is dispatched to tell me of their massive fan base.
I am flabbergasted and have to ask the boy, "Do you mean to say, you have a totally Neurotic family? And he replies, "Yes I suppose I have". Surrounded by them all we fight to get everyone into a picture. Boy, I wish I had a copy of that but it wasn't taken on my camera, I do hope it appears on Facebook because I would love to have a copy of it.
The family were lovely and I cannot think of a better welcome for a musician in a strange town, at a strange venue than this. I felt well and truly at home.
Because we were so late in pulling in, we were not there for long before it was our turn to take the stage. The lighting was so rudimentary that I was concerned that I would not be able to see the fret board of my guitar clearly with my shades on. It turned out not to be too much of a problem and only caused a couple bum chords as I missed a fret. The vocal fold-back was good but I had failed to notice that there was not a lot of drums coming through it and so me and Dave lost contact with each other 'rhythm wise' a couple of times.
Nonetheless we were having fun and the result of that was we done a very long set, played our cannon of rehearsed songs including Ohno, a song I haven't played for years, now given a second lease of life by my new Brazilian band. We played it as a thank you treat for Isabela for all the work she had done to make this tour possible. Others also have worked just as hard, Demente sweated hard to put the tour together and the band for getting rehearsed for it but it was Isabela who instigated the whole trip and has done some inspiring work on social media to oil the cogs of the Brazilian Neurotics touring machine.
'Oh no' sounds different and magnificent and I think Isabela will be hearing a lot more of it on this tour.
The gig turned out to be a blast and gave us a chance to spread our wings with our material. As we leave for the long journey home, I feel sorry for our motorcycle escort, he seemed so lonely, cold and vulnerable out there ahead of us but he was fine and we waved goodbye to him at about the same point as he joined us.
Demente, steely eyed with endurance driving eventually drove us into a beautiful Sao Paulo morning and deposited me at my apartment almost spent of energy.
It was 6am or thereabouts
We had another gig later in the day.
The outlook is alarming and constant but once over half way it quietens down a bit and then we gain a waiting motorcyclist who gives us a motorcycle escort right to the door of the gig.
It is a long way out here, as we enter the town Demente says "Welcome to the Twilight Zone"
We arrive to a concrete bar with veranda with a performance space at the end. It seems normally to cater for refreshments for a couple sports courts next to it but tonight it is punk night, bands are already playing ( well I say already, it is one o'clock in the morning) and I am knocked off of my feet to be mobbed by fans. But not just any fans, no this is a first. This is a family and every one of them is a Neurotics fan, I think they consisted of Mum, Dad, Uncle, Aunt, four sons and a daughter. One of their boys can speak English and he is dispatched to tell me of their massive fan base.
I am flabbergasted and have to ask the boy, "Do you mean to say, you have a totally Neurotic family? And he replies, "Yes I suppose I have". Surrounded by them all we fight to get everyone into a picture. Boy, I wish I had a copy of that but it wasn't taken on my camera, I do hope it appears on Facebook because I would love to have a copy of it.
The family were lovely and I cannot think of a better welcome for a musician in a strange town, at a strange venue than this. I felt well and truly at home.
Because we were so late in pulling in, we were not there for long before it was our turn to take the stage. The lighting was so rudimentary that I was concerned that I would not be able to see the fret board of my guitar clearly with my shades on. It turned out not to be too much of a problem and only caused a couple bum chords as I missed a fret. The vocal fold-back was good but I had failed to notice that there was not a lot of drums coming through it and so me and Dave lost contact with each other 'rhythm wise' a couple of times.
Nonetheless we were having fun and the result of that was we done a very long set, played our cannon of rehearsed songs including Ohno, a song I haven't played for years, now given a second lease of life by my new Brazilian band. We played it as a thank you treat for Isabela for all the work she had done to make this tour possible. Others also have worked just as hard, Demente sweated hard to put the tour together and the band for getting rehearsed for it but it was Isabela who instigated the whole trip and has done some inspiring work on social media to oil the cogs of the Brazilian Neurotics touring machine.
'Oh no' sounds different and magnificent and I think Isabela will be hearing a lot more of it on this tour.
The gig turned out to be a blast and gave us a chance to spread our wings with our material. As we leave for the long journey home, I feel sorry for our motorcycle escort, he seemed so lonely, cold and vulnerable out there ahead of us but he was fine and we waved goodbye to him at about the same point as he joined us.
Demente, steely eyed with endurance driving eventually drove us into a beautiful Sao Paulo morning and deposited me at my apartment almost spent of energy.
It was 6am or thereabouts
We had another gig later in the day.
Saturday, 22 February 2014
The worst dinner in Brazil
Just before we set out for our next gig, I am bought a fat Subway sandwich to refuel before my performance. We settle back in Demente's car (Now devoid of chinking bottles due probably to my earlier post mentioning it) and begin to eat. Now eating in a moving car is difficult at the best of times but added to that, is that Demente is driving plus these are Sao Paulo roads and traffic, so it is a disaster waiting to happen. First the lettuce, onions and countless over fillings of my roast beef Subway sandwich scattered in a fan like pattern in front of my face and dropped on to my clean performance t-shirt. Then Demente braked suddenly, for whatever reason I do not know because my face was now IN THE SANDWICH!
Demente looked at me and laughed. He then said, "I have now treated you to the worst dinner in Brazil". Oh how we all laughed as we continued into the night with my dinner jumping up and down in front of my face until I had finally managed to consume it all.
Demente looked at me and laughed. He then said, "I have now treated you to the worst dinner in Brazil". Oh how we all laughed as we continued into the night with my dinner jumping up and down in front of my face until I had finally managed to consume it all.
Is **** OFF! Universal?
My final leisure day of this week finds me almost springing out of bed, feeling better and more acclimatised with each passing day. As I am alone and speak little Portuguese, Isabela (who is indisposed at the moment with real life) works hard to team me up with available friends who can speak English and are happy to show an off duty Punk Rocker around the city a bit. This time it is Christine who helps out as she is not working at the moment. She shows me around some of her favourite parts of the city and we spend a lovely afternoon talking about Sao Paulo, London and the Beatles. I have my first Japanese meal in Brazil and although I enjoyed it I suspect that my appetite and taste buds have not fully recovered yet.
Later Chris shows me the best way to remember the route from my apartment to the subway and we part with much muito obrigardo from my part.
Later I am picked up by Isabela and Bruno and we go off for a Lebanese meal which was really good, but I have been spoilt today with good food but I am not tasting it with the vibrancy I would expect.
We are then joined by Demente making his presence felt in the restaurant as only he could. We then take off for a Student celebration to welcome it's fresh wave of newcomers to the biggest and most prestigious University in Sao Paulo. We go there to see David who is currently drumming in the Brazilian Neurotics, play in a band to entertain the students but arrive after he has finished, which was a shame.
We resign ourselves then to enjoying the moonlight evening, I'm drinking beer and listening to a drumming troupe get the students all hot and excited and the others in conversation. It's at relaxed times like these that you don't expect the unexpected and I didn't expect something unexpected.
Whilst I stood there, I suddenly became aware that someone was fondling my buttocks. My first thought was, there was no-one in our group who is familiar enough with me to do that, my second thought was, oh no, (fearing the worst) please, please, please make that the actions of a beautiful Brazilian woman and not.....
Yeah, worst outcome possible it was the actions of a pug ugly Brazilian man who in a state of high jinks decided he wanted to molest me. Now my good friends in Brazil have not told me any naughty words in Portuguese so when this man advanced, embraced me, put his head under my chin and kissed my neck I had to resort to some old fashion Anglo Saxon which I believe is understood universally (but not by the indigenous people of Brazil granted).
I pushed him will all my might, making him stagger about five feet away and shouted at him
**** Off!
I do, of-course understand, that the Brazilians are a much more touchy feely kind of people and I am very happy and comfortable about that. I have also been known to kiss a man when it was consensual and light hearted but I think that invasion of personal space is still valid.
More important, was that I had considerable valuables on my person and I was concerned that this could be an attempt to lift them.
Oh no, he's coming back...
He makes a grab to embrace me again and again my left arm propels him five feet away
**** Off!
Now I can't make the asterisks any bigger but you can catch my drift on increased volume.
At this point I decide in a flash, next one is the big one, if he returns a third time, then it is a block with the left arm and a swift punch with the right fist.
I wait...
he does not return, sem retorno
I go back to watching students acting like students, I am aware he is not far behind me but I am not concerned by him any longer.
Later Chris shows me the best way to remember the route from my apartment to the subway and we part with much muito obrigardo from my part.
Later I am picked up by Isabela and Bruno and we go off for a Lebanese meal which was really good, but I have been spoilt today with good food but I am not tasting it with the vibrancy I would expect.
We are then joined by Demente making his presence felt in the restaurant as only he could. We then take off for a Student celebration to welcome it's fresh wave of newcomers to the biggest and most prestigious University in Sao Paulo. We go there to see David who is currently drumming in the Brazilian Neurotics, play in a band to entertain the students but arrive after he has finished, which was a shame.
We resign ourselves then to enjoying the moonlight evening, I'm drinking beer and listening to a drumming troupe get the students all hot and excited and the others in conversation. It's at relaxed times like these that you don't expect the unexpected and I didn't expect something unexpected.
Whilst I stood there, I suddenly became aware that someone was fondling my buttocks. My first thought was, there was no-one in our group who is familiar enough with me to do that, my second thought was, oh no, (fearing the worst) please, please, please make that the actions of a beautiful Brazilian woman and not.....
Yeah, worst outcome possible it was the actions of a pug ugly Brazilian man who in a state of high jinks decided he wanted to molest me. Now my good friends in Brazil have not told me any naughty words in Portuguese so when this man advanced, embraced me, put his head under my chin and kissed my neck I had to resort to some old fashion Anglo Saxon which I believe is understood universally (but not by the indigenous people of Brazil granted).
I pushed him will all my might, making him stagger about five feet away and shouted at him
**** Off!
I do, of-course understand, that the Brazilians are a much more touchy feely kind of people and I am very happy and comfortable about that. I have also been known to kiss a man when it was consensual and light hearted but I think that invasion of personal space is still valid.
More important, was that I had considerable valuables on my person and I was concerned that this could be an attempt to lift them.
Oh no, he's coming back...
He makes a grab to embrace me again and again my left arm propels him five feet away
**** Off!
Now I can't make the asterisks any bigger but you can catch my drift on increased volume.
At this point I decide in a flash, next one is the big one, if he returns a third time, then it is a block with the left arm and a swift punch with the right fist.
I wait...
he does not return, sem retorno
I go back to watching students acting like students, I am aware he is not far behind me but I am not concerned by him any longer.
From a whisper to a SHOUT!
I wake to my third leisure day after having a much better night's sleep. I still have a bit of a cough but I am feeling a lot better. At last I can fully appreciate the world and to celebrate that I meet up with a couple of friends of Isabela, Lissa and Bruno and they take me for a walk around some of the city particularly to the municipal market in which we have some lunch and later Lissa goes home and Bruno and I set out for a radio station in which I am to be interviewed. The weather is lovely, rather warm, which makes a long hilly walk a bit of a tough thing to do but the alternative is an uncomfortable crowded subway or a slow expensive taxi, so walking it has to be.
Bruno talks about the difficulty tourists have in Sao Paulo if they do not speak Portuguese, the city is so big, the roads so complicated, the streets not named or poorly signposted and the police do not speak a word of English and all have diplomas in belligerence and indifference and can easily muster up hostility if pushed (or not even pushed).
Everyone gets around by asking other people and so if you can't ask you will find it difficult.
So we walk and it is tiring but I convince myself that it is good to keep my fitness up, when I am playing I am always driven around so it is good to be doing this.
When we reach the radio station, I am knackered and then I have another taste of Sao Paulo life. No-one is there, despite my interview being requested by the radio station Desobediencia Sonora, no one is in the building. So we retreat to a bar on the corner and wait there. I find it pleasant enough sitting almost in the street drinking a beer and watching the world go by. To my European sensibilities, no-one is there and therefore the interview is not going to happen and as a hour passes I seem to be right.
But no, after a hour Bruno knocks again and then returns to say they are there now.
So we enter the radio station, they offer drinks and I opt for water to revive my tired body and we grab a bit of Wi-Fi time while they set up.
Once we get underway Bruno acts as translator and I become aware that the guys had done their research on me and the Neurotics and ask some really good, intelligent questions. However, they do not get the best of me, I come across as quiet and somewhat tired, my speaking voice still husky. I am not talking with my usual enthusiasm and vigour. I enjoy it but I just haven't got the energy to spark.
Once we completed that we then made our way to our rehearsal studio so that the band can do some finishing touches to the songs in our set and to try to work on a couple we haven't attempted yet. Yes that's right, as exhausted as I was, I still have a rehearsal to do, it's now 8pm and I have been out all afternoon.
Once the rehearsal is under way I have fun and that revives me, it is confirmed that my singing voice is fully back (even if my speaking voice isn't) but I try to hold back a little so I have full voice for my next gig. Left is an image of the view from the studio that night. Finally, it is time to go and I go off to bed a happy man!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
