Numb tongue in a mouth alive!

Every one of the gigs I have done in Brazil so far has had a million requests for photos of people posing with me and many of them were instantly posted up on to Facebook. I could see my life scrolling across the internet almost in real time but with me too busy to make a comment.
Once I had been dropped off at the Arts Centre in the early hours and the shutters came down once more to lock me in, I lay on my bed in the dark and watched the 'Friend requests', the 'tagging', the 'comments' still rolling in. When do these people ever sleep? When their batteries run out perhaps? My batteries had by now, so I lay my head on my bed and recharged.

The television tower of Brasilia

In the afternoon of the following day, I hit 100% and my face lit up and told me to unplug myself from the horizontal charging position. Today Gilmar is to take me to a big market which I am really looking forward
to, as will give me an opportunity to buy some gifts for home especially for my sister who is having a seventieth birthday bash soon. The market takes place around the television tower of Brasilia and is full of wonderful things and wonderful aromas and wonderful music. A simple enquiry about a strange musical instrument at a stall encouraged the owner to demonstrate it by playing it, bursting into song and was instantly accompanied by a couple of resident percussionists. It was so good that we tried enquiring about another instrument and the same thing happened again. Sadly, I couldn't buy these things, I will have enough trouble getting my guitar home in one piece.
Next Gilmar asks me if I can smell that food that is being cooked a little way from us. I say I can, especially as it was time to eat and I was pretty hungry. He describes a certain dish in glowing terms and tells me it is one of his favourites. At this, I hit on an idea, instead of him supplying food, why don't I take this opportunity to buy him a meal, for thanks for all he has done.
"Why should you pay for it", he enquired.  "To treat you" was my reply and he accepted that so we head over to eat.

Yum Yum Yum, numb your tongue, the wonderful  Tacacá

I swear to you, I have never tasted anything like it in my life, no exaggeration. It looked like a japanese Miso  Tacacá, it´s composed of garlic, chicoria leef, alfavaca leaf, salt, chilli, jambo (the anaesthetic), shrimp, and maniva gum (that make the thing seems like a glue) and other herbs.
soup but tasted nothing like it, it had a taste I cannot describe here but it comes from the Amazon region of the country and the craziest thing about it, it makes your tongue go completely numb but doesn't stop you tasting the food so the chilli still bites through. That means it numbs the nerve endings of the the tongue but not the taste buds. And the texture of the meal was like the sliminess of oyster, gloopy with shrimp floating in it. It's name is
It was a revelation to me and gave me another experience to remember of my trip. We also had Acarajé, composed of beans, onion, ginger, garlic, salt, all the moisture is fried on dendê oil ( a very fat Brazilian coconut). Also wonderful and also nothing like I have ever had before.
Brilliant, and then we went on around the market some more and I found all the gifts I needed for home.

What's next? The gig! ahhhh the gig. That happened to be around the corner in the nearby shopping centre. Yes a shopping centre.
There is a small bar in there called Barberellas and it has an open area in front of it in which shoppers pass by during the day but can be sealed off during the evening to make an open performance area.
It is already buzzing when I arrive and after relaxing with a beer, Caio takes me and Gilmar home and I freshen up and collect my guitar. When we return, the place is buzzing even more.
I then take the opportunity to use the outside area to start replacing some strings on my guitar. This then prompts a flurry of photos taken of ‘Me and the Maestro as he maintains his instrument'. The owner of a rehearsal studio I used a couple of days before comes over and says hi and says, you haven't had much luck with the weather for your gigs have you! No, he was right, before I came here everyone in Sao Paulo said the weather in Brasilia is very hot and very, very dry. So hot and dry that householders often put bowls of water out in the living room to try to put some moisture into the air. Since I have been here I have seen it quite hot, but every time I play a gig, I see rainfall of a magnitude I have rarely experienced.

Anyway, I say to him, at least we haven't had any rain today. It isn't raining at the moment, is it?  I add quickly and he says no, anyway it is open here so you would feel it. Oh yeah, I say as I look up to see half of the open area open to the sky.
He walks away and I continue with restringing and after no more than five minutes, the sound, initially covered up by a random burst of hard-core coming out of the PA, of pitter pattering of rain can be heard falling into half of my guitar case and nearly spoiling all of my replacement strings. I had to pull all of my stuff under the more covered area.
I looked up at the sky and murmured, I don't believe this, Brasilia, oh it is so hot and so dry. An Englishman always brings his own rain.
This downpour completely reverses the layout of the gig, the mikes and fold back monitors cannot be put placed outside now so the cafe is to be the performance area, with the PA outside but undercover and the audience outside half under cover. It wasn't too much of a problem though because on this occasion the rain didn't last long.

Barbarella's earlier in the day.

Last night we opted to not finish the show which was great because it meant that I could relax and enjoy the Squintz (Caio, our Brasilia bass player plays guitar with them) who turned in a very good set indeed. This time I decide to do the same, as this will be my final gig in Brasilia and I want to party a little before going home. I have to be up early tomorrow to fly back to Sao Paulo so I want a bit of downtime before I do.
So we are on second this evening.
The one thing I hate, no, the two things I hate, no, actually, the three things I hate and do not accept if I am to perform a gig are...

I hate performing on the floor
I hate performing under house light/s
I hate performing looking directly into the faces of the members of the audience.

Tonight I am expected to perform under a single blue light bulb this time and I have had enough. Let's play with the lights on, I've had to be adaptable since I have been here, let me adapt again.
No stage, ok but the way it is laid out some of the audience are at the same level and the rest are tiered higher, bit like playing at the Christmas lectures at the Royal Institute in London (I know it's nothing like but it is a nice idea).
I will not only playing face to face with the audience but as the gig rolls on I will even be in the audience.

I am not going to be a blue silhouette, I want people to see the sweat , the joy and the excitement on our faces, live rock 'n' roll should not to be experienced as audio only, we need to be seen, the Brasilia Neurotics need to be seen, seeing is believing, believe this...

So starts my final gig in Brasilia with the Brasilia Neurotics, such a short time to become friends and become
Unforgettable. I begin the stabbing single note intro of Wake Up and imagine it rising into the sky above Brazil so far away from home and yet, so near at the same time.

And off we go....

Be in the moment, because that's all you really have!

We took the stage last night so late that we lost some our potential audience through them going home after they had seen their favourite bands, these were potential new Neurotics fans and we didn't get a chance to get to them. I therefore tell Gilmar that I don't want to do the graveyard shift anymore. I think we came off stage at 3am in the morning that time, if my memory serves me well. That means very late to bed and I try to achieve eight hours sleep if I can, so when I awake, it's time to have lunch. Glimar and I do that at the Self Service restaurant again and then he takes me off to see a little children’s carnival the Culture Department was holding in Gamma that day. There was a big stage with first class PA, Musicians playing traditional Brazilian music and huge scary clowns that chased the children round the car free area to the sounds of screams and shrieking from the excited kids. We met up with some guys who were sitting in the bar, and they invited us to have a drink with them at their table. We accepted and sat down in the sun to join them. Again I was treated as a visiting hero and bought a beer and Gilmar who had planned not to drink that day gracefully accepted one too.

They conversed with Gilmar and a little with me too with as much English as they knew and then left us on our own to enjoy watching the festivities. As we sat there we decided to have another drink and just relax. I loved watching these clowns interacting with the children, these performers came from a children's entertainment troupe that had been going since the Eighties and were mighty fine stilt walkers too. Most people were having too much of a good time with their families to notice that the sky was darkening behind them, I noticed it and assumed it was a shower coming. It was to be far more than that, once it started; it rained with an incredible intensity well into the evening. The roads quickly turned to rivers and cars and coaches trying to use them appeared to be the bottom part of an Alton Towers ride with water shooting out of both sides of each vehicle.

The bar where we were sitting brought down plastic rain curtains on the three sides exposed to the elements so that it made it seem we were all drinking in a tent. A lot of families retreated to the bar along with organisers, there were children having fun at the table with colouring, there were adults enjoying a drink or something to eat, dogs running through, the scary clowns came in later, it began to look like a Ariston advert (or I wanna be sedated Ramones video). Gilmar suggested another drink while the rain still fell and then the bar put some music on and a party atmosphere leapt out from nowhere complete with dancing.
This was great, but the rain didn't ease up and Gilmar and I were drinking more and more beer. I was getting plastered and I had a gig later in the evening, so that didn't bode well.

Finally coming to the conclusion that this rain was not going to lay off any time soon, Gilmar goes off to find someone with a car to drop us off at home. We cannot make a run for it because it is too far and anyway I have the clothes on that I intend to wear at the gig later. I cannot afford to get them wet. Gilmar then returns not with a driver but surprisingly, with Manoel Preto, the Sports & Cultural director who then proceeds to present me with the agreed gifts from the Culture Department, the cachaça and the jar of chillies. As the downpour continues Gilmar looks again at what support he can rustle up to help get us home, it is difficult because his usual contacts were all helping to pack away the carnival. Eventually he comes up trumps and we get a lift back. I take a quick shower to wash away my inebriation and then Caio calls to take us to the gig at a venue called Sub Pub.

The Sub Pub venue

When I arrive, I find the venue in a dark, lonely rain swept street, as I get out of the car I put my Converse encased foot into a broken water pipe and it disappears into a torrent of rain water. And yet, when I quickly pull it out, my foot is still dry, am I walking on water now? Anyway, Sub Pub is a venue split in two, one half is a bar with people chatting and drinking and the other half is the hall in which is playing ear splitting hard-core and there is no-one in there, or rather there might be some people in there but if they are, they are pinned to the back wall by the level of the volume and intensity of the music. I know immediately that this is going to be a difficult gig by the lack of space on stage and the stage lights consisting of, once again, a single red bulb, just like the Estudio Noise Terror gig. Later I discover that when someone goes to the toilet, the light from that room falls directly on to the stage and I wonder if we could organise the toilet light to be left on when we play.

Everything helps.

I feel a bit anxious, I am thinking that the rain is going to deplete the numbers and there appears to me to be a certain brutality of the surroundings and the hard-core that seem to say, "You don't belong here". That was dispelled very quickly as once inside everyone wants to say 'hi' and tell me how much they love my music and how pleased they are that I am in their town, and that they really, really can't believe it. I felt much better then, as always, a Neurotics audience is always a fine audience.

Once we start to play, the single red bulb stage light syndrome begins, just as we start to play 'Wake Up', and just like at the Estudio Noise Terror gig, someone comes out of the crowd filming me with a bright white light and points it straight in my eyes making our opening song a complete and utter mess. Thinking it through, I quickly realised that we would lose momentum if I stopped to ask the person to stop filming and even then he might not understand what I was saying to him so I decided that mid-song I would cover the camera light with my hand and push the camera and owner back into the crowd. And that was exactly what I did and the problem was solved, the owner got the message, loud and clear. It must be that when there is limited light on the stage, people who want to film have to turn on a bright light so I then suffer from a lack of light were I need it most and blinding light where I don't, the worst of both worlds. After completely ruining a song they then post that very song on to YouTube, thanks guys, let me do something for you one day that gives you as much pleasure as I feel when you do that!
There is something else, it's not just my inability to hit the right frets, something else is sounding strange, once the number is finished it becomes apparent. Caio busted a bass string right at the beginning of Wake Up and had spent the entire song trying to find all the notes on three strings.

The spirits are not with us tonight!

Fortunately, a replacement bass appears very quickly out of the darkness.

Anyway, there are other problems, Uri hasn't got enough foldback to hear the rest of band and he doesn't have enough light to read or anticipate stuff from my body movements. We are all put out, and are all miss firing on all three cylinders. This is a big disappointment after the soaring majesty of last night's gig. This hurts all of us, our professional pride dented and yet, this does not mean that the audience does not enjoy the show that we manage to deliver; they have no comparisons in their heads. The other thing, this is a three gig experience only, so don't intellectualise it, live it. We lived it, it was still great, we can't rewind it so move on, lets make the future, the final Brasilia gig, something we will never forget, for the rest of our lives.

Live it and own it.

Living the dream!

I have a good eight hours sleep at Caio's house making me much refreshed and after being treated to a breakfast which included a taste of a typical Brazilian fruit called a 'Sugar Apple' (Too sweet for my taste, Brazilians generally have a very sweet tooth, that's connected to their economy relying on sugar cane for much of the countries past) he then takes me back to the Arts Centre to meet up with Gilmar and be taken to lunch. Again it is a self-service meal which means I treat myself to a big plate full. The opportunity to eat can be random and I can't eat much just before I play so when I get the chance I'll eat a lot and not have so much later.
The gig tonight is in our district (Gama) so after eating, Gilmar and myself wander over to the venue so that I

can see where I will  be playing. It appears to be a community centre building and is completely empty, it is devoid of anything inside that you would expect to see in a venue. No PA, no lights, no bar area. It does have a stage though and it is a sizeable affair which is good and there is also a room that is to be allocated solely to the Brasilia Neurotics, all that is missing is the star on the door. The hall is pretty big too, so this could be a good place to play, I am confident that the next time I am here, it will all look a little more rock 'n' roll than it does now.

Next we make our way over to the local government building that administrates the Gama area and as we enter we pass a couple of policemen with guns, wearing stab vests, so it looks all very serious and then I can see all the office paraphernalia of a local government department. However as we weave our way through various rooms I can see we are heading for the Culture Department where the work looks more like fun and so do the workers. I am taken into to see Manoel Preto, the Sports & Cultural director and he and the rest of the people working there treat me like a visiting dignitary, all wanting to shake my hand and to tell me how happy they are at having someone so legendary in punk rock, visiting their town (I'm not making this up).  There follows a lot of hand shaking, hugging and 'kissing the air by the side of the face', and that was just the men (sorry, little joke, couldn't resist it). Anyway, by this time, I am all puffed up, warm and glowing inside, especially because Manoel  has now cracked open a bottle of Cachaça and has offered a shot of it to me which was now racing around my throat and chest.
Gilmar does frantic translation of everyone's 'pleasure to have me perform in their town' and as I look around at all the photographs of events and projects they have worked on with young people. I am very much reminded of several Youth Inquiries I had done with Harlow Council. It all seems very familiar, I know this vibe, I know this type of department, I know this type of work. I have worked in a culture department of sorts and organised youth events.
It is a jolt to be knocking back strong spirits in a local government office but when I was involved in youth work, the people in our offices could smoke at their desks and Friday afternoon was when we would imbibe a sherry or two to welcome in the weekend.
I announced to them through Gilmar, that I too had worked in a department like theirs, thinking it would be a good talking point, but it didn't cause much of a stir at all really, as if they preferred their image of me as a wandering punk rock minstrel telling like it is, rather than someone behind the desk having to toe the government line for the common good. I suppose it was like having a circus performer telling you that they used to be a tax collector, now that would not be very sexy and no-one would want to know.

Anyway, spirits were not dampened too much by my tale and then there appeared a lovely woman Renata Batt who asked if I would pose for a photograph, which I agree to, and it was taken with me and all the office staff holding a up banner saying " I heart Gamma". I didn't mind, as it had by now become apparent that local government funding was paying for the gig and I now needed to do my bit. Surprisingly Renata then tells me that women in Brazil would die for my lovely hair. I can only assume that Brazilian woman like to put streaks of grey in their hair and I was left for a moment wondering whether to be pleased or upset for the apparent notability of my increasing greyness. It it did make me feel self-conscious though, of the fact that my hair was dirty and needed a good wash.

Next up, Manoel is going to present me with the key to the city and.... no, only kidding, instead he is going to present me with a bottle of Cachaca and a homemade jar of chillies! Don't ask me why, but as I love both, I readily accept, even though I had visions of them both being busted open in my luggage on the trip back. I love the randomness of this tour and I am convinced that I will arrive back home at the end of it all with my eyebrows stuck in the surprised position.

I am again informed by Gilmar that everyone is getting excited at my presence and to tell you the truth so was I, I am overwhelmed by the welcome and the warmth of everyone here. Truly I had wandered into heaven.
With much excitement still buzzing around the room, we left, so that I could shower and shave and get ready for the gig. When we finally made our approach to the venue, excited people were milling about outside, and inside it had been much transformed, as there was now a good PA and lighting system in place. As for the bar, that was a twofold improvised affair, one was a polystyrene tank full of ice and beers and outside was a van that had set up in competition and was serving drinks to people just hanging around the front of the venue. This was a bit counterproductive as the front doors was letting out the music and with a bar outside too, no-one needed to come in really unless you wanted to marvel at my lovely hair???

Caio, Uri and I started setting up and were trying to get the balance right between my vocals, the backing vocals and the guitar when all of a sudden this deafening hiss came out of the PA and drowned out everything, we could not hear a thing. But it wasn't the PA, it was torrential rain hitting the tin roof of the venue. We had to abandon the sound check until it had eased off as we could not hear a thing.

Universally, this it is not good for a gig as many people stay at home when it rains and boy was it raining. Fortunately it stopped a little while later.

So, the outside bar and the rain, initially, had depleted the amount of people actually in the hall. Nonetheless the people in the room were Neurotics fanatics and made their presence felt.
Gilmar had organised a very good looking gig with all the right infrastructure for the bands to play well. On top of all that he was also busy confronting rival punk gangs who were just about to draw knives on one another. I could do with him as a manager.

As we prepared to take the stage I was now in a position of débuting the second Neurotics band of this tour, on only a handful of rehearsals and a pocket full of good luck. We walked on and the sound was just right, the lights were just right and there was plenty of stage space to fill.

And do you know what? The Brasilia Neurotics just flew, we played like we had all been doing it together for years and  I re-discovered the joys of touring, when you are so used to playing that you don't even have to think about it, you relax and get lost in the music. I was so into it, that I was dancing and twirling, couching and jumping and all without missing a note, the band were inspired by me and themselves, to show a side of them that was hidden in the rehearsals and that was their brilliance, the potential was unlocked. The guitar sound was phenomenal, powered by a Brazilian amp I was growing to love, called a  'Meteor', it is despised my most Brazilians BECAUSE it is Brazilian but for me it did the trick and I eventually wanted to own one of the newer models of this baby.
I was in another world, my songs were lighting up in a way I didn't think possible. Probably because I was being exposed to different flavours of my own songs in a very short space of time, by people who adore my music, at a time when I was abored by my music.
Things will never be the same for me after this tour, I can tell you that now, it has transformed me fundamentally as a person, as an artist and a performer. To be removed from your comfort zone and be made to approach the process of creativity in a completely different way, was a revelation. With the help and dedication of those that believe, we were hacking jewels out of a rich vein and marvelling at the light they cast upon us. We all have changed believe me, those that stood on stage with me in Sao Paulo and in Brasilia will never be the same because that light shone in on our potential and that cannot now be taken away from us, that's our reward and every one of us deserved it.

As we finished our set, the set list below me had transformed into a pulp, soaked by the sweat dripping off of me and trampled by my dancing feet. Boy did I dance, I danced like I have never done before, and sing? Where did that voice come from? It was not shouting because I was excited, it was more considered, emotional, soft, loud, roaring, soulful, and also too, screaming rock 'n' roll.  Yeah, sure, in my career I missed the money, but I found my soul.

The boys were a pleasure to see reacting to my praise, I have never seen two people so happy at receiving it and it made me realise how much time, effort and anxiety these two had put into it to please me, I therefore, was not going to give faint praise, I told them they did brilliantly and they had.
The audience lapped it up, there weren’t a lot of them, most people were outside, but by now this had become irrelevant, the drama happened on stage, the audience were bystanders to an accident we never thought would happen.
After, we joined the revellers outside and partied for a good while, two classic moments come to mind here. One was a blind man who was trying to get me to have a smoke with his friends, which I thanked him for but declined, he was slightly hysterical but told us, as a parting shot, that his hearing had become enhanced as his inherited optical degeneration had set in. As he walked away I said to Caio, "Well that's why he didn't pay to get in, he could hear it perfectly well from out here, and then I realised that although most people could not hear my jibe from the distance he was away from us, he might well be able to. I watched him for a moment and decided it was all-right, he was distracted.
The other thing was a guy who could barely speak any English, translating to another Brazilian what I was meant to be saying, god knows what he was telling this guy but in the end, I walked away shaking my head. Crazy stuff, crazy stuff.

We had a real good time, the time of our lives.

And at the end of a long day, as the shutters once again imprisoned me to another night in the Art Centre, there were no groupies, there were no drugs, there was no rock 'n' roll, there was just me and a quiet satisfaction, my excitement had been shed as a wall of sweat at the feet of my performance.

And now, I fell asleep outside of my dreams.

Embracing Brasilia!

I woke up feeling so much more refreshed, more relaxed after a good night's sleep. By now it was lunch time and Gilmar took me out to lunch locally which was an interesting walk through his local community. We went to a self-service restaurant where a big range of Brazilian food is laid out and you help yourself to whatever you want and then the plate is weighed to determine cost. It was a good way to try a broad range of things and made sure I got a good meal inside me. After that we went off to the second rehearsal which was in the early afternoon,

After gathering with the band again we run though the outstanding numbers we didn't get to do last time and then, once that was done, I inquired why Newtown People was not ready to be attempted and Caio told me that it was simply that they did not have an MP3 or anything of the track. I told them of the importance of the track in the set, how it adds light and shade and gives the band a bit of a break from all the fast energetic numbers. So I ask if we could at least give it a go. I start the song's intro and to my surprise, out came an almost fully formed song, and because it was done without reference to the original, it came out more original, different, good. So we run through it a few times and then all the numbers we had done the night before and then we were done. The songs had come a long way and the band was now ready, they were not perfect but they were ready to gig and tomorrow we will see.

After we had finished Caio offered to show me around the spectacular sites of central Brasilia. Unlike Britain it is not considered bad to walk around drinking beer even around national monuments so we had a little mobile party as I was taken around the stunning architecture of the centre. Some of it looked like it came straight out of a science fiction movie and on top of that; the whole city is built on the land in the shape of a massive aeroplane.

It was built new where there had previously been no town previously much like Harlow New Town was, and there you can see how I was engrossed in this amazing city, Newtown People, Newtown Pioneers, they were all here, waiting for me, and like brothers and sisters separated for some time, we embraced. Near the Brasilia National Museum we met up with Caio's brother and the three of us walked round discussing the form and architecture and how this area was good for making out with your girlfriend. Being amorous around government buildings, sound like a great way to brighten up Brasilia politics.

 
We finish up at a bar area overlooking Brasilia's newest bridge which spans a gigantic man-made lake and  we drink and talk about life in general and I am quizzed about mine to which I was made to realise how lucky I was. When we finally called it a night, I stayed at Caio's house instead of going to the Arts Centre.

Tomorrow was to be our first gig together and I was beginning to really look forward to it.

The journey inside my head

Once I arrived, I was offered the choice of accommodation between a cheap hotel which would not have Internet and air conditioning but might have cockroaches, or an Arts Centre, yes that's right, an Arts Centre, with Wi-Fi, air-conditioning, a kitchen and a hot shower available whenever I want it. Gilmar, my host and organiser for the Brasilia leg of the tour, works in an Arts/Creative resource centre and he says he can make a bed up for me there.

As you can imagine, I chose the Arts/Resource centre and, as I have at this point only had two hours sleep, the first thing I am left to do is get some rest on a bed in the middle of a performance space. I am assured that no-one will be using the centre and that I can sleep for a bit, as the first rehearsal with my new band is set for 12 o'clock at night and will be for three hours. At this point it is around 6pm when I put my head gratefully on to my pillow. At half past nine I am woken up by Gilmar because there is someone coming in to use the performance space and anyway we need to go off to the rehearsal, But, I bleat, the rehearsal is not until 12 clock, "yes" says Gilmar "but it is a bit of a way", "Oh, ok", I say, and get up disorientated and confused, When we get to the studio, the rehearsal starts at 11am and is for two hours not three. The shifting landscape of expectation is something that I have been getting used to here, but at the moment my body is confused with my sleeping patterns and so I am drifting along with events as if in a dream.
I am anxious about the rehearsal; this will be the second time I have had to work with a band to be able to do the tour. The first band was a revelation and was so good it made my life a lot easier. I can't conceive that I would be lucky enough to strike gold a second time. I am disorientated and sleepy when we turn up at a strange rehearsal studio, in a strange town and I walk into the studio to meet the two musicians for the first time with whom I have make magic, NOW! I have to tell you that I am not in the mood. I just want to crawl back into bed.

The bassist and drummer are from a band called the Squints who are notable for having recorded their version of 'Kick Out The Tories' so it is safe to say they are fans. They want to start with 'Living With Unemployment'. The bottom line on this, is if the band are not up to scratch, I will pick the songs they can do the best and the rest I will do solo. The first number goes surprisingly well which is a bit of a relief and as we move through the repertoire they have been sent, it is evident that this is not going to be a car crash.
Uri Formiga, the drummer, is getting most of it right, but also getting some things very wrong and my guidance to him on what he should be doing is not having the desired effect. The songs also are too fast (or is it me just getting old and they have rehearsed to the younger me). I then suddenly realise that he is very nervous and is trying too hard, he's not relaxing into the music and his English is not as good as the bass player Caio Braga so when I try to explain to him what is needed with the drums and any one point, he's not fully understanding what I a trying to get him to do. So Caio steps into help and I let him take the lead on steering Uri and accentuate the positive with what Uri is doing really well to try to relax him a bit.
This seems to pay off, that and the fact that Gilmar has brought some nice cold beers in to help oil the gears of creativity.

By the end of the rehearsal I am happy that we have a working band for all the numbers apart from 'Newtown People" which they haven't rehearsed, making me feel that maybe they are having trouble with the reggae rhythms. I don't get to find out this night because we run out of time. We head on down to a street corner bar and have a few beers to celebrate kicking off rehearsals, we have another one tomorrow and I hope that during that, we can sooth out some rough edges and get ourselves a working band.


My first day in Brasilia was eat, sleep, wake, rehearse and then go back to sleep.
Once dropped off at the Arts Centre building Gilmar unlocks the shutters, rolls them up, I then step in, he says goodnight and then rolls them back down and locks up again. He will end my imprisonment in the morning.

I turn gratefully to my bed with the unsettling thought that if there was a fire here in the night, I would burn to death.

The Journey to Brasilia

Demente and I pick the guitar, accessories and merchandise up from his studio and he drops me off at my apartment and helps me carry all the stuff in. When he leaves, we both have a list of things we need to do before we meet again in the morning to go to the airport and we only have about four hours until then. Despite this being an internal flight, it has the same stresses and anxiety that comes with gong on a full blown holiday abroad.  I immediately start washing some t-shirts and socks as I have nothing clean to perform in, and start the process of working out what can fit in my hand luggage. I separate things to go and things not to go and then lots off pulling out and putting back in again ensues, with many curses under my breath due to the fact that I am constantly aware of the time ticking away.
I suddenly panic as I become aware that my guitar leads have gone missing, so a quick call to Demente is made and he says he knows where they are but it would be quicker and better to call ahead and arrange for some to be made available when I get there.

Eventually, I think I have done everything, my bag has a box of Cd's in it and everything else is squeezed in around them. There is not even room for an additional piece of paper to go in. I finish washing my t-shirts and socks, ring them out and then hang them up. I know they are not going to dry, but every little bit helps. I look at the time and realise they will have exactly two hours drying time.
I set the alarm on my phone and drop into bed to attempt to go to sleep. I do sleep as I am exhausted from the swim earlier in the day.

The alarm never goes off as I have set it wrong.

However, I wake up at the time I set it anyway, which was lucky but Demente is due to ring before he leaves just to make sure.
I get up, grab a quick cup of coffee while I take the washing down and place it in a small, thin, green plastic bag. Then I stood in the middle of the room with a bag of washing in my hand and absolutely no room to place it in my bag. I had to hope that as Demente was bringing a larger bag in which I would place mine and all the Neurotics t-shirts left to sell, that there would be a little corner for my washing.
Eventually, I get the call, "I'm downstairs" and I struggle out the door with everything, lock up and hustle into the lift, I feel dreadful. Once out in the street, everything fits into Demente's bag apart from my little bag of washing

The solution is to squeeze the little green bag under some elastic straps, leaving a somewhat vunerable lump sticking out of the bag. Oh well it will have to do.
Originally I was to have someone accompany me on this trip but for one reason or another I am now to do it on my own. We get to the airport bang on time but strangely it isn't the airport, well it is, but it isn't the airport I will be flying from. Confused?

 Let me explain.

I had to get to this airport by a certain time to catch a coach to another airport to catch my flight. This throws a spanner in the works a bit because I was relying on Demente to mediate on any difficulties at the check in, with my baggage allocation, specifically if they  try to charge me for my guitar being an item of luggage. Instead, after putting my stuff in the hold of the vehicle, I say goodbye to him at the steps of the coach and then go and find a seat.
This is when I start to feel vulnerable, I am now, undertaking a journey to another city with no interpretor. The seat is luxurious, I could sleep here but my anxiousness wont let me,  I recline with my eyes closed to pretend to myself I am sleeping and there I lay for so long that I began to believe that coach was going all the way to Brasilia. An hour later and we arrive at another airport, and the flight is only meant to be an hour. I am on my own now as I disembark and collect my guitar and my bag with my vulnerable bag of washing sticking out of it. As I enter the airport, it is bewildering to a person without ease of communication and only two hours  sleep, so I find an official and get them to squint at my electronic ticket on my phone, they in turn point to a particular check in desk and i join the queue.
 When I get to a desk, I have been told that an interpreter would be found once they knew I was English. As I started apologising for not speaking Portuguese they looked a bit puzzled at what to do, but I was in luck, a Brazilain guy asked my if he could help as he could speak English. I accepted with great relief and thought to myself how friendly Brazilians continue you to be to me. This is how the conversation then went.

She says, what is in the big case?
He informs her it is a guitar.
She puts a sticker ticket around the strap of the case and it's in, no hassle. I am now just left with my large piece of hand luggage with the vulnerable plastic bag of washing sticking out of it.
She says, as it is big, you can put the hand luggage in the hold if you like.
What? And I don't have to pay extra?
My interpreter doesn't hear this and I decide not to labour the point because this conversation appears to have no mention of cost, so I hand over my bag gratefully. The woman looks at the bag and says something that is to be the final bit of communication from her that my interpreter needs to convey to me.
She says, that this little green plastic bag is a bit vulnerable here so it would be better to carry that on the plane. I readily agree and after thanking the helpful interpreter (he says he learnt his English when he lived in Ireland and really misses the Guinness, oh and the country. There must be a lot of Brazilians in Ireland because this is not the first time I have heard this story) I wander into the airport with loads of time and a little vulnerable green plastic bag of my washing on my hands.

The bag is beginning to split and my toothbrush (I have some toiletries in there too by the way, that's how strapped for space i was.) is sticking out of it. I feel silly walking around with it and wish I had a stick that I could tie the bag to the end of, like Dick Whittington. I don't know how that would make me feel less silly but these are the rambling thoughts of a tired man.

I decide that I may as well go through and wait on the other side, customs was a breeze, all this process is so much easier being an internal flight and being Brazilian. I then wait for the gate details and when they finally comes through I notice that more than one destination is scrolling around on the screen at the gate entrance and I become confused because I can't be boarding three planes at the same allocated time at the one gate. So I make inquiries to  an airport official, she doesn't understand me but gets a colleague that does, and she politely informs me that yes it is the right gate and it will board at the time stated on my boarding card, 10.17. Great, but I must say it did confuse me when we eventually started boarding at 10.12. it's at times like this, when you cannot speak the language of the country you are in, that you think, "Am I missing something here?"
Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here, I thanked the airport official in Portuguese (ah ha, I can speak something you see...) and she in turn smiles and glances curiously at my little vulnerable green plastic bag of washing. I retreat to look for a better bag as the split in it is getting bigger.
Ten minutes later I have failed to find a better plastic bag that I could appropriate, I cannot face the hassle of trying to ask for a freebie plastic bag, it would just lead to a very confusing episode and I am too tired to cope.
Ahh, free WiFi, now that's handy, I can while away the time until I leave, doing something useful on-line.

Here comes the rant...

If you offer free WiFi, why make it so difficult to use. I've lost count of the times I have not used free Wifi when it is offered, because just I wanted a little bit of information whilst I drink a cup of coffee, but I am forced into a sign up process that will...

1. Eat up the small amount of time I have to drink my coffee
2. Fill my inbox with spam
3. and I will never use that account again because I am never likely to visit that cafe/shop/resturant again.

If you want to offer free WiFi let people connect straight away, some already do it, why can't all of you. Don't treat your customer like idiots, do you really what to frustrate them, surely that  is not the intention.
Anyway, back at the airport I find three, free WiFi connections available but all of them require a sign up procedure to get to the WiFi. I think to myself that I have time on my hands so I'll go through the hassle of signing up. More fool me, i try all three connections and each one rejected every email address I could throw at them, it was almost as if it would only allow an address with the Brazilian extension .br

Oh look, it's time to board the plane and I have not had one second of internet access.
At 10.12 precisely, it is time to board the plane. No, still not the plane yet, I have to get on a bus to take me to the plane. I ask the woman I spoke to earlier, "This one" I say pointing at the bus, she nods.
I board the bus that mentions nothing about Brasilia or my flight number on it, which takes me to a plane with no mention of Brasilia or the flight number on it. I make the stewardess look at my ticket just in case I'm getting on the wrong plane but she only looks at the seat number and gesticulates where in the plane it is. I find my seat and after depositing  my vulnerable, little green bag of washing, with a toothbrush sticking out of it, in the luggage compartment  I sit down, I think, if anyone now claims this as their seat then I'm on the wrong plane.
I am somewhat relived when i hear the announcements being made and although there wasn't one in English I did catch the word Brasilia in there. Phew!
Actually, the flight was lovely and I had a window seat so I just watched the stratosphere passing by until we

descended into Brasilia which curiously looked a bit like Harlow from the air. This is not surprising as Brasilia was a totally planned development, built on land where there was previously no town or city, in exactly the same way as Harlow was and around the same time too. Open plan living in an open plan time.

Once we had landed, I waited at baggage reclaim holding my little green vulnerable plastic bag full of washing with a toothbrush sticking out of it until I espied my bag and guitar  which I quickly pulled off of the carousel. First thing i did was check the guitar had made the short journey without being broken and I found it was fine. Great.  Then loaded everything onto a trolley and headed out to experience my first moments of Brasilia.
You know what it's like you exit the arrivals, the sea of faces looking for loved ones, the change of expression when they spot them, then you have the people holding up cards with the names of the travellers they have been tasked to pick up.
I arrive, and the sea of expectant faces locate their love ones, their expressions changing  to that of joy and there ensues a flurry of activity and hubbub as their bags are whisked up by friends and loved ones and they all disappear in a cloud dust out of the door to waiting cars, off  to adventure or home.
In the quiet that now descended, I was left standing there, with my trolley containing my guitar, big bag of merchandise and my little vulnerable green plastic bag full of washing with my toothbrush sticking out of it.

There was no-one to greet me

Don't panic, I thought, we have arrived's a little early, that's the reason for the no show of my Brasilia contact Gilmar. When it got around to the actual arrival time and there was still no show I began to worry. I cannot see any mention of Brasilia in this airport, maybe I've ended up in Rio or something, but my luggage is with me and the stickers on them say Brasilia so why is there no-one here?
I then realise that I have no contact number for Gilmar, I have no contact number for Demente, I speak no Portuguese, I am so tired I am nearly falling asleep standing up.

I am on my own.

I do have a number for Isabela which I try but no answer, she is at work so I leave a message.
Try the free Wi Fi? You've got to be kidding me?

I should never have been in this situation, it was silly not to have any contact numbers for  anyone but Demente have vouched 100% for Gilmar and I trust Demente 100% so i was confident that someone would be here, where was the problem in that? Oh yeah the problem is here. Demente and I had been too tired to think this thing through so early in the morning but here I am now with my tiredness feeding my anxiety.
I had £40 of access from O2 that I had used up in five minutes and they told me they would not charge me any more but would cut the connection at 50 meg, a further batch of Internet access will cost me £120 so I didn't want that. Therefore I had turned off the data networking to my phone but was now desperately turning it back on to use a bit of Facebook to get the telephone numbers that i needed before my 50 meg run out. I left some messages on Facebook and turned off the data networking again then after a short period of anxiety, turned it back on again and looked for a reply on Facebook. I then found a message from Demente saying don't fret, sit tight, Gilmar will be there don't worry.He had rung him and got no reply so he must be on his way.
Well, if he got involved in an accident what would I do? I was thinking the worst by now and thinking selfishly too.
Oh if only I had WiFi access, I desperately try Brasilia free WiFi and with one button press I am connected, no sign up, no email address or password required, no account to be made. I just couldn't believe the ease I was now connected. Why can't the rest of the WiFi world be like that.
I then had full access to Facebook and all my contacts if I needed help, Demente had emailed his number to me and I had sent mine to him.
Then without any fanfare Gilmar walks in with his driver and I am saved! The terminal I was to arrive in had been switched and Gilmar had been unaware he was waiting in the wrong place.

I was taken to my accommodation and the very first thing I did was to hang my washing out to dry and place my toothbrush in the bathroom.

Now, Brasilia here I come!

At last, the beach

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?