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Europe Day 14
I woke up this morning to our final day in France. As if my paragraph upon paragraph of superlative-laden drivel hasn't been clear enough…this has been an incredible trip. I'm so grateful to Brother Ali, who certainly went out on a limb by welcoming us onto this trip, BK-One, Rhymesayers, and all the promoters, friends, and family that allowed us to make this a reality.
Last night we played in Orleans, a Western city known for…right. No offense intended to the inhabitants of the town, but Orleans was by far the least picturesque destination we've hit thus far. It wasn't explicitly unattractive, but after the castle/fort/river-boat filled stops of days past, a "normal" French town felt almost disappointing. We've been spoiled.
After a 4 hour drive, we pulled directly in to the venue, and began loading in. An antiquated elevator system brought us from the garage directly up into the backstage area, and soundcheck was painless…due (more than likely) to the decibel limit imposed on live venues here the general sonic clarity of the PA and monitoring systems seems far superior to your average American club. It's nice to be able to, you know, hear what I'm playing!
Our dressing room was well appointed with Red Bull, beer, and water. The venue's kitchen had prepared a small pre-dinner snack for us, which appear to be a pile of raw cabbage, sitting next to a larger pile of rice mixed with salted fish and hard boiled eggs. One bite of the rice concoction furnished a mystery bone of some sort so, in the interest of avoiding any sort of foreign dental emergencies, I decided to pass on the delicacy…
Dinner was served at 7pm sharp and was, once again, fucking amazing. Fresh salad, amazing cheeses, root vegetables, carafe's of local wine, fresh bread, fresh caught shrimp…the standard chips and salsa back in the States will never be the same.
The opening emcee, Med Killah, had a full live band with him which, in the world of local opening acts, is usually a pretty big red flag. The resources required to run sound for a live band, even if the soundman is intent on running sound negligently, unavoidably takes time and attention away from the headlining acts. Tack on the inevitable disruption to the stage set-up, and you have what usually amounts to an unpleasant experience. Thankfully, yesterday was a pleasant surprise! Med Killah and his band was full of life and energy…he rapped in French, so I was completely in the dark as to what he was saying (much like the French crowds have been towards us….hmmm), but his stage presence was there and the band was pretty fucking good.
Our set was relatively successful, though yet another broken guitar string is leading me to believe that there might be something structurally wrong with the bridge of my Stratocaster. Technical problems aside, our energy was good and, despite the language barrier, the crowd was open and receptive to what we were trying to do.
Ali and BK, and always, destroyed the stage. Interestingly, last night was the youngest crowd I've seen thus far. Grieves and I are used to playing all ages shows for rooms full of underage kids, but our trip through Europe has, thus far, placed us in front of a slightly older demographic.
The show over, hands shook, and pile of raw cabbage left undisturbed, we began loading our shit out to the van. Eric and I took the first load down in the elevator. I pressed "1" thinking that it was the correct destination. The elevator door opened to reveal a full, Olympic sized, ice hockey rink. Whoops.
Back to the hotel, and straight to bed, as I'm really beginning to feel the weight of the fatigue from being on the road for the past 2 months. It's an incredible experience, but sleep is often the first casualty to this lifestyle.
I woke up at 8 and headed out on a run…while I did manage to track down the local river (every French town we've been to thus far seems to have been built around a river and/or series of central canals) I'm no more enamored with Orleans as a destination than I was when I arrived. Ah well.
We're on the road to Paris right now, with a luxuriously quick hour-long drive that should land us in the city with several hours to spare before load-in. Hell yes!
Europe Day 13
Nantes is a beautiful city!
We had one hell of a drive yesterday, spending about 10 hours in the van between the hotel in Strasborg and the venue in Nantes. Alternating between a rear-facing an seat and the bunk in the back, I felt thoroughly disoriented by the time we pulled into our destination. A perfect beginning to the evening, as I truly had no idea where I was, and no concrete sense of my surroundings. Hell yeah!
Grieves and I didn't play last night, as the show itself was a special live radio broadcast that had been booked well before we solidified our plans to play the French dates of this tour. It's always a bit strange having a night off in the middle of a tour, but this run has been a bit more relaxed in that regard (this is literally the first tour that has felt balanced in regards to pace, with days off in appropriate places, no overnight drives, and enough free time to allow for a bit of time to explore the cool shit around us) so it wasn't as much of a shock as it could have been. Furthermore, it was nice to get a chance to relax jusssssst a bit, take the chance to watch Ali and BK's set in its entirety, and not have to be 150% engaged all night.
We showed up a bit too late for Ali to soundcheck, but were able to load all the gear and merch in to the venue. The production staff were insanely helpful, and all of them seem overwhelmingly excited to have Ali perform. The venue itself was an old theatre, with a proper balcony and dressing rooms sequestered in the basement of the building. Located a little bit out of the center of town, I still had no trouble finding a really good cup of coffee at the bar next to the club, while I waited for things to settle down a bit inside.
After load-in, we were ushered over to a local restaurant where, once again, we were treated to an amazing meal. Carafe's of local wine, puree'd vegetable soup, Quiche, fresh roasted broccoli, and fresh fruit salad for desert. Amazing. This is past the point of redundancy, but these motherfuckers have been treating us SO well. The level and quality of the hospitality is going to be tough to leave behind, as will inevitably be forced to re-adjust to the American standard before too long. I'm doing my best to revel in it while it lasts.
Dinner having been handled thoroughly, we piled back in the van and headed into the city to check in at the hotel. Ali wasn't scheduled to hit the stage until 12:50 am, leaving us with several hours of free time before we had to head back to the venue. After asking the lady at the front desk in the hotel to recommend a good bar and being directed to a "Chinese Buffet" in a dark alley, we decided to take matters into our own hands and try and hunt something down ourselves. Sure, walking into a spot called "Euro Bar" may not have been the best idea, but a 12 Euro bottle of wine proved to be the perfect accompaniment to rather bizarre scene inside the establishment. A solitary DJ spun deep-Trance music in the corner, with an elaborate setup that included a number of lasers shining intensely on a bar full of folks that seemed intent on doing their best to ignore the musical spectacle. The DJ's most engaged audience member was a woman in her 70s or 80s who had brought (and was subsequently surrounded by) 4-5 massive garbage bags filled with God-knows-what into the bar, sipping aimlessly on a bottle of apple juice and staring quizzically at the laser-infused techno party that was taking place in front of her. Weird? Yes.
Declaring victory (as we managed to survive "Club Euro" without experiencing a strobe-light-induced seizure), Grieves and I headed met the rest of the folks back at the van and headed over to the venue. We were all warmly welcomed back, and shown down to the dressing room. Following a short live radio interview, Ali and BK took the stage prompt at 12:50, playing a 45 minute set in front of a crowd of kids that all seemed to be…on drugs. After playing hundreds and hundreds of shows, you get to a point where you can read the energy of a crowd relatively well. There are tired crowds, drunk crowds, energetic crowds, inexperienced crowds, too-cool-to-show-emotion crowds, and there are drug crowds. Last night's crowd was firmly in the latter camp. Not the worst type of audience by any means, there's still a unique challenge in trying to get your message across to a room full of hundreds of kids on mind-altering substances. They're there to party and have fun, but the reality is that if you could probably pump Henry Kissinger full of ecstasy and he'd be partying like a champ, which is to say that the emotion and support you get from your average drug crowd feels a little less sincere than that from a relatively more sober, but still engaged crowd. That said, the audience seemed to have a great time, and Brother Ali and BK-One put on, as always, one hell of a show.
Load out was accomplished in record time, and we soon found ourselves heading back to the hotel. I escaped immediately to bed, but apparently the hotel clerk, concerned that the hungry group of touring musicians that had just walked through the door, took it upon himself to raid the hotel's kitchen and prepare a plate of sandwiches…keep in mind that this was a massive chain, akin to an employee at a Holiday Inn in America preparing a home-cooked meal for a guest at 3am. Incredible!
I pulled myself out of bed at 9:30, and took a run through the center of the city. 5 blocks away from the hotel I happened on a castle, complete with trestle and moat. A couple miles into the run, I had seen no less than 4 perfectly maintained cathedrals, traveled through an arboretum, and spent 10 minutes running next to a beautiful canal. Save for the run through the fort in Belfort, this morning's jog was my favorite of the trip thus far.
Back at the hotel, I threw my camera around my neck and tried to seek out some of the cool shit I had run past. Oddly enough I randomly ran into a friend of mine from college. In a grocery store. In Nantes, France. Strange world!
Today's drive is a relatively relaxing 4 hours to Orleans. I don't know a damn thing about the city, but that's nothing that can't be solved in the next 12 hours.
More tomorrow!
Europe Day 12
Touring is lonely. This might seem like a truism of sorts (or perhaps a blatant lie, depending on your perspective), but it's enough of factor in my current reality that it's certainly worth saying. The irony, of course, is that while on tour, I spend my day surrounded by people. From the moment I wake up, to breakfast at the hotel, to the van ride, to load-in, to sound check, to dinner, to the show, to the ride back to the hotel…etc, etc, etc. The thing is, much as I'm in the presence of amazing people, many of whom I consider family, the sometimes grueling process of touring forces even the most gregarious amongst us draw into a shell of sorts. It's a mechanism to cope with the 8 hour drives, the monotonous sound checks, and many of the other less-glamourous aspects of this lifestyle. It's not a bad thing…it just is. The thing about this kind of solitude, however, is that it's very limiting. Loneliness generally allows for some amount of personal space…"normal" loneliness, at the least, allows for you to scream out loud, to pick your nose, to cook a good meal, to call your family, or a whatever else you desire. This shit is different, which doesn't make it better or worse, but it does mean that the loneliness of tour has more rules, and more structure. There's more you can't do to cope, I suppose, but there's also a lot of freedom in that.
I think I had a point in here....
Sitting in the club yesterday in Strasborg, surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of kids (most of whom were in attendance at the French electro-pop show in the main room adjacent to the smaller stage we played on 
), I felt that loneliness very acutely. Hundreds of people, all speaking words that I couldn't understand, and not a soul that I will ever see again.
There's a special brand of solitude there, but there's also a special brand of incredible. Somehow, the music that I make, the weird sounds and things that start as little ideas in my bedroom in Seattle or Brooklyn, they've brought me to this place…and that's really fucking cool! To stand on a stage, in front of a room full of people that don't understand a word Grieves or I say but are still, somehow, compelled to listen to, and to feel something from, the music that we're making. I feel really lucky.
Back to Strasborg. Yesterday's drive was among the shortest of the tour. 2 hours from Belfort to the front door of our hotel. We pulled in around 2, and immediately ventured out in search of breakfast/lunch. Not a good idea. We had failed to plan for the mid-day closure that almost every (reputable) French restaurant enjoys, shutting down from about 2 to about 5 every day. It didn't help much that it was beginning to snow rather vigorously and the section of town we were trekking through began to resemble a French version of Pittsburg in its washed-out, post-industrial-wasteland aesthetic. Great. After several failed attempts at gaining entrance to a restaurant, most folks retreated in defeat, leaving BK and I in search of some kind of sustenance. We made it through the door at a small Brasserie, only to be shooed out the door by the proprietor who seemed more than a little defensive about what was clearly some sort of illegal gambling facility she was running in the front room of the establishment. Great. Thankfully, we did find a little Patisserie, filled with delicious pastries and sandwiches. Persistence triumphs again. 
A 5pm load was relatively painless, and we settled into the backstage area of the venue for the time leading up to the show. This club was, as I mentioned above, comprised of two separate stages, a main room and a "club" stage. A series of hallways, bridges, and hidden staircases linked the backstage rooms to the stages, and while navigating the maze was a bit of a challenge, it was a pretty impressive space all told. It didn't hurt that the place was literally teeming with production staff, all effusively helpful and willing to go out of their way to accommodate us.
There was a generous cold buffet in the dining room to hold us over until "real" dinner was served, and the food was…once again…nothing short of incredible. Smoked salmon, local cheeses, fresh baguette…imagining treatment like that in the States is almost laughable.
The opening act had a really elaborate stage set-up, with two laptop musicians/DJs flanked by two massive projector screens. They played for about an hour, and while I wasn't able to catch their entire set, what I did get a chance to see was pretty impressive.
Grieves and I took the stage a little before 10. The crowd was small, but definitely wayyyy more interactive and receptive than the night before. That, combined with a lack of technical difficulties on my part (meaning, of course, that I didn't break a single guitar string), led to a show that felt much better, much more settled, and much more well understood. I will say, however, that French crowds seem uniquely averse to shouting "Burn it Down" during the call and response portion of Gwenevieve…culturally conditioned not to take fire lightly, even in metaphor…
Ali and BK came on right after us, and KILLED it. It's so incredible to see these crowds chanting Ali's lyrics, singing along, and engaging so generously. It's an inspiration to see, and a testament to both the universal impact of his art and the incredible amount of hard work he's put in over the past decade (and beyond).
I managed to load all of my equipment into the van in record time, but it became immediately clear that the group-at-large was going to take a bit more time with their exit, so I gathered my personal stuff and walked back to the hotel. A 2am bedtime isn't so bad!
I woke up at 7 this morning and took a jog through Strasborg, determined to see a bit of the historic city before we took off. I managed to make my way downtown, the main portion of which is bisected by a beautiful canal. The body of water seemed to be generating its own cloud of fog, wafting into the nearby streets in a very France/German-in the movies-in the 1940s kind of way. Lots of winding streets, old cathedrals, and tiny little restaurants and shops. The streets were super crowded, with much of the population on their way to work, and it was nice to see a city so full of life…though it did make for a bit of a human obstacle course.
Back at the hotel, I took a quick shower and hit the breakfast buffet…which oddly enough included, amongst its cheeses and meats and breads and yogurts, a bottle of champagne. 
At this very moment, we're settled into the middle of an 8 hour drive to Nantes, where Brother Ali and BK-One will be rocking a midnight show as part of a live radio broadcast, and where Grieves and I will enjoy our final free night of the tour. I'm listening to an advance copy of Krukid's new record, Lifelines (y'all have no idea what's about to hit you!), and getting ready to settle into a few episodes of East Bound and Down to pass the time until we arrive!
More tomorrow!
Europe Day 11
Not to take anything away from the unique experience of playing on a floating boat, but the location of last night's show managed (somehow) to top the spectacle of our show in Lille. Pulling up to the venue yesterday after a relatively long 7 hour drive that had us traversing the northern border between France and Germany, the first thing that stuck out was, without question, the MASSIVE lion that had been carved out of the cliff overlooking the venue. The building that we loaded into was nestled against a small mountain that was situated in the center of Belfort. Surrounded by re-enforced stone walls, ramparts, and centuries-old military look-out points, it quickly became clear that tonight's Rhymesayers presentation was going to take place within the confines of a real, honest-to-God, French Fort. Yep!
Side note: Grieves and I weren't scheduled to play at all yesterday, as we joined the French leg of tour after several of the dates had been booked and filled. One of the French acts pulled out of their slot, however, so we had the unexpected opportunity to play. A lucky break for us, and we were grateful for the chance to play a bit of music!
After a 6 pm load-in and sound check courtesy of Pierre, the exceptionally helpful and competent sound man, we had a couple of free hours before the show. I was pretty excited to explore the town a bit, so I took the time to take a bit of a night run through the fort and a bit into the town. There are so many aspects of this trip that have left me a bit overwhelmed at the breadth of opportunity and experience that I've been so lucky to have a chance to take part in but, for some reason, running through that French Fort last night took the cake. Snow in the air, ground lights illuminating the tunnels and ramparts, not a single person around, and a panoramic view of the town of Belfort from several hundred feet above. Fucking incredible!
A quick wash in the second strangest shower I've seen in the past two weeks, and I headed back to the venue, which happened to be a short two blocks from the front door of our hotel. A local restaurant had been contracted to cater the event, and a veritable banquet of cheese, salad, and jugs of wine awaited when I walked in the door.
The opening act took the stage around 9. I couldn't understand a goddamn word out of their mouths, but the crowd seemed pretty excited, so I'm guessing them to be local personalities of some stature…I think? The highlight of their show was a 4 Emcee-deep unison performance of a Snoop Dogg tribute medley…in French.
Grieves and I took the stage shortly after 10pm. As excited as I was to be there, this was the first time that we really, truly, encountered a significant language barrier in the presentation of our set. The crowd was receptive and open, but clearly had trouble understanding a goddamn thing we said. We put on a good show, and the sound was exceptional, but I left the stage frustrated at our attempts to get through to the audience, frustration that was compounded by the fact that I broke two guitar strings during the opening song of our set…and I'm pretty sure the 1/4" jack on my guitar is starting to fail. Everything always breaks!! The interesting thing is that, despite my personal reservations about the success of our show, the warmth in reception from folks out in the venue after we got off stage seemed to indicate that we were received much better than I thought we would be. Go figure! Whatever the case, the highlight of the evening was, without question, the chance to meet a local Gigolo/Hash Dealer by the name of Said'. Whoa.
Grieves and I had grand plans to explore the town's nightlife after the show, but after several nights of very minimal sleep, coupled with an increasingly thick blanket of snow that was beginning to make navigating the streets a bit of a challenge, we decided to retire to the Hotel Cristophe to get some shut-eye. Thank God.
I woke up relatively early this morning and, after another run through town, decided to head back up into the Fort to take some daytime pictures. While I wasn't able to get as close to that fucking lion as I would have liked to, I'm glad I got the chance to experience the arial view of the town before I left.
On today's docket is a super short 1 1/2 drive to Strasborg, where we're rocking at a venue called La Laiterie!
Until tomorrow....
Europe Day 10
Yesterday was dope!
After the Steak Tartar debacle, I was a bit hesitant to declare victory here in Lille, but last night's show compensated for any seeds of doubt that lunch may have planted.
We left the hotel around 5, walked the mile or so to Ali's spot, and hopped in the van with the French promoter who had graciously offered to meet us at the hotel and show us to the venue. As we neared the club, I began to recognize our surroundings, noting that we were drawing close to the canal next to which I had taken my morning run. Tour manager Mat made an offhand comment as we passed a stationary river boat, but I take much note…nor did I think it particularly odd when Ali started reminiscing about a boat that he, Slug, and Ant had played on in Paris several years ago. Nothing more than your average tall of days gone by, right? Ha.
Last night, we played rap music. On a boat. In Lille, France.
Mat parked the van in a parking lot adjacent to the canal, which happened to be right next to a traveling circus that was setting up shop for its first night, and we began loading our gear into the rear of the boat. Crossing a small ramp that led us into the back of the floating venue, I've never had to worry about dropping a keyboard into a body of water as acutely as I did yesterday.
Dropping-gear-in-water concerns aside, set-up went very smoothly, and I was pleasantly surprised at the power and clarity of the physically diminutive sound system. Apparently France, along with a number of other European Union countries, imposes a decibel limit on live venues in an attempt to limit the amount of damage inflicted on patron's sensitive ears. Noble, and probably a very, very wise regulatory act, but I was a bit concerned that our live show would suffer due to the decrease in volume. Thankfully, the combination of a tightly enclosed boat cabin that was partially under water and a sound system that had been tuned specifically for the room, created an almost ideal environment for both playing and listening.
Oh, and did I mention ha the green room was housed in the captain's quarters? Nothing like drinking a beer backstage…next to a giant steering wheel.
Shortly after soundcheck, the promoter led us across the street to a local restaurant that had closed off a small portion of the restaurant in anticipation of our arrival. So unbelievably unexpected. The reverence for art and music that we first experienced last week in Scandinavia is, quite apparently, not limited to the Northern countries. Acknowledging the danger in making sweeping, generalized statements like this, it's pretty clear that the general European attitude towards the fine arts is VASTLY different than that of the United States. The level of respect and hospitality that we've experienced as underground hip-hop artists is truly eye opening. Top-tier artists in the states are certainly treated well (above and beyond anything we've ever experienced, at home or abroad), but it often seems as if that treatment is sourced from a desire for spectacle more so than it is from true love and appreciation for music and art as a fundamental aspect of a well rounded society. I digress!
Dinner was incredible, with perfectly cooked salmon on a bed of roasted potatoes, local wine, and an incredibly elaborate marble slab of creme brulee to top it off. 
The promoter and club folks left us halfway through dinner to head back to the venue and get ready to open doors…I was a little concerned that they were planning on sticking us with the bill and floating the boat down the river with all of our equipment and belongings on board, some kind of massive French joke on the ignorant foreigners…thankfully the boat was still there when we returned, and was damn near packed with folks ready for the show.
At 8:40 sharp, Grieves and I took the stage. I walked up to the computer that houses the software that acts as the main foundation of our live show, woke it from sleep, and was treated to a system crash. Great. It would have been more than salvageable had the sound engineer not taken our presence on stage as a sign to cut the house music and turn on a couple of spotlights that were directed right at our shining faces. Great. What followed was, without question, the most awkward beginning to a set we've ever stewarded. Grieves did his best to maintain keep the crowd's attention, but had a bit of a hard time with his trademark whale joke…something about the language barrier made it tough to translate the lengthy whale calls that function as the core instrument of humor, I suppose. In his defense, I wasn't giving him much to work with, scrambling around trying to get my computer back online, re-attaching USB cables, and trying to get a stubborn MIDI controller to get back in line. It was not our finest moment.
Technical problems aside, we managed to get everything back online, and proceeded to knock out a damn good set. The crowd was incredible, and a couple of folks seemed to know who we were, calling out for Smile For the Blade halfway through the set. Whoa!
Side note: One of the biggest problems with playing a show on a small boat? The smell. Sure, there's inevitable funk that comes part and parcel with a bunch of people dancing together in a small enclosed space, but the boat and dirty river added an element of ocean funk to the already pungent human funk…it was not pleasant at all.
Ali and BK delivered yet another incredibly energetic and professional set. Ali has such incredible command of the audience, it's
The show over and done with, Grieves and I ventured out with a couple of folks from the audience who offered to show us around town. Good idea? Sort of. Terrible idea? Definitely.
After 45 minutes of confused navigation through the vacant streets of Lille, we found ourselves at "OZ", Lille's only Australian bar. Great. The company was good, save for a uncomfortably friendly Irish fellow by named Collum who insisted on buying drink after drink after drink for us, leaving the original 4 of us at the table in a rather sorry state of awareness by the time the shuffled us out of the bar at 2:30am. Aside from Collum's unsolicited presence, however, the night was a good one…with a lot of broken french-english-portuguese spoken, mis-interpreted, and explained in pictures. It's really amazing to be in a place where English is not freely spoken, and where making yourself understand and, in turn, understanding people that are trying their best to communicate with you, is not a foregone conclusion.
After last call, we made our way back into the streets of Lille, walked ourselves home to the Suitehotel! and climbed into bed for a couple hours of sleep before this morning's van call to Belfort. Due to the festival restrictions, Grieves and I weren't supposed to have a set tonight, but thanks to a last minute cancellation we have 45 minutes to rock in front of a festival crowd!
More tomorrow!!
Europe Day 9
Yesterday was another travel day, spent heading Southwest from Hamburg to Lille. The drive took us through 4 countries, originating in Germany, briefly crossing through Belgium and Holland, finally arriving at our French destination relatively late in the evening. Save for a brief, and somewhat bizarre, stop at a Dutch gas station, I didn't get the opportunity to see any significant part of Holland or Belgium. A shame, as those are two countries that I'm certainly curious to explore a bit. Next time, next time.
The drive itself was about as uneventful as it could have been. We left Hamburg at noon. Drove for about 9 hours. Arrived in Lille. We did have a chance to spend the lunch hour at a German travel stop, which provided a bit of entertainment as we noted that the bathrooms required a .50 Euro deposit, the lunch buffet provided more than ample amounts of both red wine and Jagermeister (two ingredients not normally suggested for those taking a quick break from a long drive), and the gift shop had a wide selection of Che Guevara-adorned apparel…Nothing like a "Viva La Revolucion!" cap to give purpose to that long haul from Berlin to Dresden….
Grieves and I are staying at a different hotel than the rest of the folks, and while we had grand plans to venture out into the town after checking-in, we quickly realized that the night was more appropriately suited to hotel beat-making and, in my case, a cup of weird pureed mushroom soup.
I woke up at the oh-so-early hour of 11:30am today, threw on my running clothes, and headed towards the city center. From what I was able to see, Lille is a pretty amazing little town, 
with an old, centrally located cathedral, tons of winding cobblestone streets, lined with little shops, bakeries, and restaurants. I'm excited to get a good meal and relax for a bit before our 5pm load in for the show this evening. After 3 days off, it will be nice to get back on a stage, and I'm super curious to see how the French crowds react to our music!
Side note:
Grieves and I just ventured into Lille's downtown area for lunch. He ordered Steak Tartar. Confidently. The waiter seemed a little hesitant, awkwardly asking Grieves if he knew that the dish was served cold. Seemingly undeterred, Grieves waved him on. Several minutes later, a plate containing small piles each of chopped raw onion, capers, and parsley, all surrounding a massive heap of raw ground beef with a raw egg on top, was placed on the table. Grieves tried his bet to remain calm but, several bites into the dish he sheepishly admitted that he thought he was ordering a well cooked steak complemented by tartar sauce. Whoops.
To his credit, he tried his best to choke down a couple of bites, but it quickly became pretty clear that he wasn't prepared to make any sort of appreciable headway. Raw beef: 1 Grieves: 0. We then walked around Lille for a bit, exploring the myriad shoe stores, patisseries, and wine shops that the town has to offer. Wide streets, lots of trees, hatchback cars, and folks that don't speak a word of English. 
The change in the number of folks that speak English out here, especially relative to the Scandinavian countries, is pretty striking. As confusing as it may be, there's something incredible about being in a country where you really truly have to work to make yourself understood, and where, in turn, being understood is not a foregone conclusion.
Europe Day 8
Yesterday was a long travel day, though due to the fact that it was broken up into 3 different "mini-journeys", it didn't feel quite as long as it should have.
After a relatively leisurely 11am check-out from the Comfort Inn in Stavanger, we piled into the van and headed south towards Kristiensand. The 3 hour drive was relatively uneventful, with a couple of folks climbing into the bunk behind the passenger cabin to get a bit of extra sleep.
We arrived in Kristiensand 
at around 3:45, with about 45 minutes to spare before boarding the Colorline Ferry to Denmark. I had fond memories of the Colorline, an was oddly excited to be re-united with the hulking mass of a vessel. During the year that we spent living in Bergen, Norway, my family and I traveled via ferry to the United Kingdom to visit my father's family. The Kristiensand - Edinburgh route was a bit more of an ordeal than yesterday's 3 1/2 journey, and the 20-or-so hours we had to spend on the Scotland-bound boat allowed for an early introduction to the wonders of slot-machines and duty-free shopping. Looking back on it, it seems pretty bizarre that a 10 year old child was allowed free reign around such instruments of vice, but it seemed pretty damn logical at the time. I recall winning enough Norwegian crowns to buy a nice Swatch watch, while my younger brother, who couldn't have been older than 5 or 6 at the time, somehow accurately guessed the weight of a rather large salmon that had been on display. The prize for such precision? The fish itself, which proceeded to defrost itself while sitting inches above our heads in the back seat of my dad's SAAB as we drove South towards Liverpool. By the time we reached the Mersey, the entire car reeked of rotting fish. Winning ain't easy, folks.
I digress.
We boarded the boat at 4:30, and settled into a 3 1/2 hour ride that included a healthy dose of terrible ferry food, some nips from a duty free bottle of Aquavit, and curious attention of what seemed like thousands of small children, running free around the cabin. We, for some reason, decided to set up shop right next to the "Kid's Movie Area", which was a small room with large glass windows, a movie scree, and a couple of pathetic looking toys. Filled to the brim with children eager to take in the cartoon on the screen, the unmistakable smell of human shit began to waft out of the doors in increasingly concentrated doses. I suppose the excitement of cartoons was a bit too much for their young bowels to handle? Whatever the case, unable to deal with the smell much longer, Grieves, Ian, and I retired to the outside deck. The sun was beginning to set, and the open sea was exceptionally beautiful. 
The ferry docked in Denmark, and we re-boarded the van in anticipation of the final 6 hours of travel to Hamburg, Germany. I staked out a bit of space in the bunk for myself, and managed to get a couple of hours of strange sleep before climbing back down to the passenger area for the last couple of hours of driving. Ali, BK, and I sat and talked for a while about the general state of underground Hip-Hop. I know I've said it before, but it's such an incredible honor to be able to spend time with with these guys and, most importantly, to learn from their incredible experiences and unique insight. I'm a lucky dude. 
We pulled into Hamburg around 1am, stumbling into the "E-Tap" hotel and heading upstairs to try and get some rest. E-Tap's are, apparently, a Europe-wide chain, renowned for the odd placement of their in-room shower. It's in the middle of the fucking bedroom. Also, it seems as if European hotels, and perhaps Europeans in general, have a bizarre aversion to Shampoo. No judgement here, but it is a bit…curious.
I woke up a bit early this morning, and took the opportunity to take a long run through downtown Hamburg. I've never been to Germany before, and it was cool to take a bit of time to explore a truly foreign place. A weeeee bit dirtier than its Scandinavian counterparts, Hamburg still had the unmistakable feel of a city rich with history, art, and distinct culture. My run took me past a carnival that was in some middle stage of con/de-struction, through a couple of city parks, and into the center of commerce, which was lined by a series of small lakes and canals that were filled with gondolas and other small vessels. So damn cool!
After returning to the hotel, Grieves and I enjoyed yet another incredible, and free, hotel breakfast. What these places lack in shampoo, they more than make up for in complimentary food. Nice cheese, Nutella, fresh fruit, good coffee. Not bad at all. Finishing breakfast left me with about an hour of free time, which I spent walking around the area near our hotel…which also happened to be something resembling a Red Light district. Even more depressing during the day than I imagine it to be after the sun goes down, I trekked my way past numerous sex shops 
until had reached the markedly more picturesque waterfront area. 
An hour well spent.
Back in the van now, heading towards Lille, France, which looks to be a mid-size city based around a university, and with a pretty vibrant arts scene. We have another travel day today, followed by our first French show tomorrow night!
Grieves and I have been brainstorming ideas for new music, and I'm in what feels like a pretty creative space these days. I've spent a bit of time over the past few days working on some new songs, and I'm feeling pretty excited about the direction their taking. New scenery…new sounds…and the fact that I've been listening to The Refused on repeat isn't hurting the process.
Until tomorrow!
Rhymesayers/Agency Group SXSW Showcase Info
Staring out the window of this Etap hotel in downtown Hamburg, it's hard to imagine that I'll be in Austin, Texas next week...but I will! Here's a bit more info on one of the official showcases we have lined up. Keep in mind that you'll need a wristband to get into this one:
We'll be playing on the main stage at Emo's with the following lineup:
7:15-7:45 – Grieves w/ Budo
7:45-8:15 - YelaWolf
8:15-8:45 - Fashawn
8:45-9:15 – Evidence w/ DJ Babu
9:15-9:45 - Blue Scholars
9:45-10:15 - Wiz Khalifa
10:15 -10:45 -Freeway & Jake One
Europe Day 7
Europe Day 7
The second half of the drive from Oslo to Stavanger was at once terrifying and beautiful. Oddly enough, the conflicting reactions were both the culprit of the same factor: The Goddamn Mountains.
We left Oslo at 8 in the morning, quickly leaving the comforts of city driving behind, we soon found ourselves on a snow covered road with about enough lane width to accommodate 1 3/4 vehicles. We had been warned about the general state of the roads in Norway, but it would have been tough to accurately describe the extent to which these roads…sucked. The speed limit was around 60 km/h. We were going mayyyyybe 20 km/h. As we ascended and descended mountain after mountain, I watched the ETA on our dash-mounted GPS climb from 3:00 to 3:15 to 3:30…not a good sign, but still plenty of time to get to Stavanger in time for our 6pm soundcheck. Unfortunately, that was based on the assumption that the road we were on would continue to function as a road, and not randomly turn into a cross-country-skiing only trail 4 hours into the drive. Right.
So at 4pm, we found ourselves at the terminal point of one of Norway's "major" roads, at the top of a snow-covered mountain. After a brief conversation with a friendly family of avid skiers, it became clear that we had traveled the past 2 hours on a "summer only" road. The only "winter route" to Stavanger demanded that we retrace the 2 hours back towards the nearest junction and re-direct onto a snow-ready route. Sure. An extra 5 hours to the journey? No problem. Who wouldn't want to spend as much time as possible sliding sideways around hairpin turns in a 8 passenger Mercedes Sprinter van?
To his un-ending credit, tour manager Mat handled the treacherous driving conditions with aplomb. Despite his best efforts, however, we did at one point find ourselves lodged into a snow bank, with several other close calls leaving us sideways in the middle of a blind curve or two. Yipes. On the other hand, the scenery was stunning, with dramatic peaks, icy lakes, and the occasionally mating wooly cow providing an oddly serene backdrop to what should have been a nerve-racking journey.
We finally pulled into Stavanger at around 8:30 to find a freezing cold crowd of no more than 35 people. The promoter explained that the rest of the audience had left due to a combination of the long wait and bitter cold. As we were only 30 minutes late, I'm guessing that the latter was more a bit more of a significant culprit than the former, but who am I judge the wisdom of an outdoor festival in the middle of downtown Stavanger, Norway in early March? Whatever the case, it was also clear that Grieves and I wouldn't have a chance to play, an opportunity we were more than happy to forego in the interest of getting Ali as much stage time as possible.
Ali took the stage around 8:35, and I followed Mat down to the hotel to check in and get a short run in before dinner. The evening run was wonderful, taking me through the harbor area of Stavanger, which was populated with a combination of massive fishing boats and equally massive Fjord tour vessels. As active as Oslo had been the night before, the streets were filled with people heading to dinner, walking in and out of clubs, and enjoying drinks. The cold didn't seem to deter any of the enthusiastic revelers and it was, once again, so nice to see people outside, enjoying life in a way that seemed foreign for reasons beyond the simple geographic disparity.
I continued my run up into the hills above the harbor, and was treated to a journey through a maze of tiny cobblestone streets, lined with weathered, but impeccably maintained, old homes, many of which were illuminated by candlelight alone, with many curtain-less windows revealing families gathered around flickering tables, eating and talking and drinking. Imagine that shit at 9pm on a Saturday night in a major American city. Exactly.
After making my way back to the hotel, I rejoined the rest of the tour. A friendly fan of Ali's led us towards a local Indian restaurant. Sitting down for dinner at around 10, we spent the next couple of hours talking and eating, finally retiring to the hotel around midnight. A bit of an exhausting day, but well worth the trouble.
After enjoying the extensive breakfast buffet (The complementary Scandanvian hotel breakfast game is about 300 levels above the pitiful American hotel breakfast. Fresh cheese, fruit, eggs, homemade jam, fresh juice…), I headed back towards the harbor to take some pictures and wait for everyone else to make their way to the lobby.
On the schedule today: 3 hour drive from Stavanger to Kristiensand. 3 1/2 hour ferry ride from Kristiensand to Germany. 4 hour drive to somewhere North of Hamburg for a "night off". Yeesh! As sad as I am to leave Norway, I'm pretty excited that we're beginning to make our way down into France!
Thanks for reading:)
Europe Day 6
Oslo, Oslo, Oslo...
Sitting in the front seat of our tour van, piloted by our amazing tour manager, Mat, we're currently traveling as fast as we can (35mph) through the mountains of Southeast Norway. I spent a year in this country as a 10 year kid, and while I don't remember many specifics about that experience, that year certainly planted a seed of reverence for natural beauty that could only come from living in such a stunningly beautiful place. I'm happy to report that Norway is no less overwhelmingly gorgeous than it was when we first made our acquaintance 17 years ago. Somewhat less impressive (or perhaps more impressive, depending on how you look at it) is that the condition of the roads here hasn't changed much either in 17 years. Mostly a function of the sheer number and density of mountain ranges, it's more or less impossible to take a straight line through anything. Tunnels abound but switchbacked, windy, nausea-inducing curves seem to be the preferred course of navigation. We literally haven't gone above 50mph on a clear day traveling on a major road between two major cities! Then again, I suppose you could probably say the same thing about the stretch of I-5 between San Diego and Los Angeles…
Now…on to more touring rap musician-related subjects.
Ricky, the promoter for last night's event, met us in the lobby of the hotel at about 8pm. We all loaded into the van and he directed us through the downtown area and on to the club, a spot called the Living Room. 
Accessed through a back door, we had to load all our gear by way of descending a treacherous flight of stairs that placed us directly in the kitchen/coat-check area. Everyone survived the descent(thankfully…), and BK and I got to work setting up our equipment in anticipation of soundcheck. A small side note: Before any show, the tour manager/person in charge of making sure things run smoothly will call ahead and contact the club/promoter to advance the show and let them know exactly what sort of technical needs the tour package has. That way, when the artists show up to the venue, the club is fully prepared to handle the unique needs of each group. Another small side note: This never, ever, ever works out.
Oslo was a shining example of a club that was completely unprepared to deal with our relatively simple technical needs. Sure, they had a sound system fit for a small stadium crammed into a 300 capacity room, but they were totally unable to accommodate my instrument set-up, and the monitoring chain was a joke.
To his credit, the sound man was doing his best to work with us, and we ended up stacking all 4 of my instrument lines into one mono channel, pulling them almost completely out of the monitors (which meant, essentially, that I was totally unable to hear myself playing on stage), and hoping for the best. My vocal mic was delivering a low-level electric shock every time I touched it, and Grieves could barely hear himself speak over the roar of the house speakers. I expected a disaster of a show…a show which, coincidentally, was scheduled for doors at 9pm, with Grieves and I going on at 10. 9pm came and went. 10pm came and went…still no one in the club save for a few unconcerned staff members. Not good.
At 10 I gave up waiting, and ventured out into the Oslo night for a bit. The club was in the center of the town's theatre district, and many of the night's shows were just getting out when I walked outside, filling the streets with elegantly dressed folks, heading for drinks, hailing cabs, and wandering with some sense of purpose. What struck me was, simply enough, how happy people seemed. I suppose it's pretty easy to to enjoy your leisure time when your country has oil money oozing out of every pore, but there's a bit more at play here, I think…I walked down to the docks and peered into the Nobel Prize museum, which had glowing display of Obama-related goods.
Back to the club.
When I walked back in at 11pm, the had literally just opened the doors to the public. Grieves and I didn't go until midnight. I was expecting disaster but, as so often happens when you expect the worst, we quickly found ourselves in the midst of the best show of the tour. The crowd was insane. Incredibly engaged, and so filled with energy. The responded amazingly well to the more interactive portions of the set.
Ali went on after us, which worked out to be somewhere around 12:45, playing until 2. Show over? Nope. BK manned the turntables for the final hour of business, spinning records while Brother Ali MC'ed a monster of a dance party that finally wound down around 3 in the morning.
An incredible night…that left us all incredible tired and haggard. 
Back to the hotel by 3:20. Quick stop at the lobby vending machine, where Brother Ali spent something along the lines of $12 on a small microwaveable bowl of Fish Ball soup…bed and sleep by 4. Woke up at 8:15. Delicious continental breakfast. Back in the van.
Stavanger tonight, where Ali is scheduled to rock an outdoor festival. In Norway. In the dead of winter! It's still unclear as to whether or not Grieves and I will get the chance to play, but either way it should prove to be a bit of an experience.
More tomorrow...including a full account of our harrowing journey from Oslo to Stavanger. Yeesh!
Europe Day 5
Where to begin, where to begin?
I'm writing this from the lobby of our hotel in Oslo, Norway, the somewhat vexingly titled Hotel First. David Gray has been on repeat on the lobby stereo since I walked in the door, which is eliciting a combination of nostalgia and annoyance. We arrived here a couple of hours ago after a leisurely 4 hour drive into the Western-most Scandinavian country, and have some time off before an incredibly late 8 pm load-in at the venue. Blog time!
First, however, a caveat: Please forgive the torrent of superlatives I've been spewing in these posts. I'm just so damn happy to be here!
Yesterday was as wonderful. Upon our arrival in Gothenburg, Johan drove us directly to the downtown hotel where we had our new copies of 88 Keys and Counting shipped. This was the first time Grieves or I had seen the Rhymesayers packaging and, while it's tough to feel overwhelming excitement over a project that is, at this point, over a year and a half old, the site of the RSE logo on our little record. I grew up listening to and idolizing the music and culture behind the Rhymesayers movement, and to have their support and endorsement is...amazing.
After picking up the CDs, we continued into the heart of the city, finding a parking spot directly across the street from the venue. After a quick (and rather disappointing) journey into a Swedish thrift store, we walked across the square and sat down for falafel lunch. Not great food, but certainly not the worst fast food I've ever had.
We wandered around the square for a bit, slowly making our way back to the venue. A two-floored affair, the club housed a coffee shop/cafe on the ground floor, with a set of stairs revealing a purpose-built space with room for about 300 people. Most of the venues we're playing have been around the same size, but all varying significantly in layout and atmosphere. While last night's sound left something to be desired, it was, by far, the coolest space we've played in thus far.
After about 45 minutes of....nothing, the sound tech explained that we would have to postpone soundcheck until later. Great.
Grieves and I ventured backstage and waited while a local film crew prepared to interview us...in the kitchen. The journalists were incredibly well informed, and I was shocked/flattered to learn that they had both heard AND liked my solo album! There were two interviewers on hand, one of whom reminded me of a character out of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. He had come prepared with handmade clay figurines of Brother Ali and BK-One...though had sadly run out of time before he was able to construct a likeness of Grieves or myself.
Halfway through the interview, our dear friend Embee (of Looptroop Rockers fame) poked his head into the door. We hadn't seen him since December, and it was really wonderful to get a chance to catch up. We still had an hour or so left before soundcheck #2, and Embee took the oppotunity to drive us across town for a whirlwind tour of his studio space. Svenska Grammofon Studion was, without question, the most amazing recording space I've ever seen. The studio is home to a number of esteemed producers, engineers, and musicians, including Jose Gonzales, and the gentleman responsible for the sonic monster that is The Knife. A hulking complex of room after room after room of vintage Neve boards, obscure keyboards, and instruments instruments instruments, it managed to avoid any semblance of pretense while still embodying everything that a top-tier studio space should. While each room revealed a new treasure of sorts, I think that the lofted drum isolation booth, hovering 10 meters or so above the main tracking room, was the most impressive piece.
Embee took us into his personal room, and we had the chance to hear a couple of new Looptroop demos that they're working on for the next record. Amazing shit.
Back across town we went! Having now traversed downtown Gothenberg 4 times in under 2 hours, I started to get my bearings...at least I convinced myself I did. It's a pretty small city, filled with historic landmarks, so it's certainly not the most challenging place to navigate.
The show itself went really well with, yet again, another incredibly warm and gracious reception from an audience that had never heard our music before. It's exciting and scary to p[lay in front of a sold-out crowd of folks that don't know who you are, but each of the past 3 nights has proven that we must be doing something right?
Ali destroyed the stage with a level of energy and passion that is really, truly rare among performers that are on his level. He's truly a legend. He brought Grieves up for an encore song, a special moment to witness.
Halfway through Ali's show Embee led me downstairs to meet a local Prog rock legend:
After the show, Johan graciously drove Grieves, Embee, and myself back to Embee's place on the edge of the downtown area. We bid Johan a bittersweet goodbye, and retired to Embee's place for some Pocky, wine, and an oh-so-short night of sleep.
After some brief daytime exploration of downtown Gothenburg, Grieves and I jumped in the van with Ali, BK, and co and embarked on the drive that landed us...right here.
As a short aside, I took a long jog along Oslo's waterfront today during sunset. This place is absolutely beautiful...perhaps one of the prettiest places I've ever seen.
Now, off to hunt down some dinner, soundcheck, and more rap music!
Europe Day 4
As I type this, we're driving between from Lund to Goteborg. The freeway, at least at this moment, borders the body of water that separates Sweden from mainland Europe. The countryside is littered with windmills, quaint farmhouses, and patches of snow. It's sunny and clear, and we're listening to a Swedish band called Logh, a product of Bad Taste Records. Not too fucking bad for a Thursday afternoon! Last night's show in Lund was a bit of a challenge, but Grieves and I regained a bit of the composure we lost during the cross-Atlantic journey, and the crowd response seemed to be even more gracious than Copenhagen. The venue, Mejeriet, was a purpose built space fashioned out of an old Creamery. Two stages, a bar, a bunch of offices, and..gasp…on-site laundry(!!!) made for a really pleasant and welcoming experience. It's always nice to play in venues that are built as such…not a converted bar, or a club with a stage stashed in the back as an afterthought. Supreme warned us that Mejeriet was "the best venue in Sweden" and, after last night's experience, I think I agree. The one oddity was a stage that was about 5 1/2 feet off the ground. Nothing out of the ordinary for a stadium or large-theatre show, but in a 300 cap room, it created a rather awkward distance from the crowd. After frying my guitar pedal in Copenhagen, I was excited/nervous to try out a new Boss amp modeling pedal. It's intended to replicate the sound of a 1965 Fender Twin Reverb…safe to say I'm going to have to spend a bit of time dialing in a useful sound, but I'm confident I'll get it close to where I need it. I'm also experimenting with Ableton Live as a Serato replacement. We've been using Serato since I started touring with Grieves, but…as I'm not much of an actual DJ, the turntable set-up was a bit excessive for my needs. Live is much much much more my speed, and it's been rock solid in our live set-up thus far. I'm pretty excited to explore more of its capabilities as I get more comfortable with the interface and layout!. We showed up a bit early, ran through soundcheck, and then sat down for a couple of interviews with some local folks. The journalists seemed to have some idea of who we were, which was a pleasant shock. Grieves had the awesome opportunity to sit down with a legendary Swedish radio personality (who's name has completely escaped me). The dude, who looked like a Swedish version of Paul Giamatti, recorded the entire conversation onto a massive old reel-to-reel machine that he lugs around with him. How a middle-aged Swede knew that much about American hip-hop and pop culture I'll never know, but the interview he conducted was one of the most engaging things I've ever seen. After the show, Grieves and I spent some time at the mercy table, talking with folks and signing shit. Such a friendly and engaged audience, and everyone with spoke with seemed genuinely appreciative that we were there. The club shut down at 12:30. We should have gone to bed. We didn't. Supreme had made the trip up from Malmo and, together with Johan, Grieves, and a few of Johan's good friends, we all made our way out into Lund. Not exactly a thriving metropolis to begin with, the small town of 100,000 was pretty empty in the middle of a Wednesday night. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), one of Johan's friends was a college student at the local university. She led us into a "Student Nation", a local bar that was open only to students and their guests. The dark basement room was something akin to bizzaro American frat basement, with throngs of drunk children wandering around dressed like pirates (a product, I assume, of some sort of themed party). Really strange, but the beer was cheap (due to a special liquor tax break offered to student-run organizations…) and the immediate company more than made up for the disconcerting surrounding. The Student Nation shut down at 2, and we all dragged ourselves back to Johan's place, where many open-face Knackebrod/butter/cheese sandwiches were constructed and, subsequently deconstructed. Two really, really interesting hours of conversation about city planning, Swedish straight edge music, the oh-so-odd touring habits of NOFX later, I passed out face first from exhaustion on Johan's floor. Ah, the touring life!! Heading to Gothenborg right now, I'm excited to see a city that I've been to once before and remember really fondly, as well as to get a chance to hang out with Embee for a bit, and possibly check out his beautiful studio space. He's graciously offered to put us up for the night, and it will be nice to have the chance to catch up for a bit! More tomorrow, dear friends.
Europe Day 3
Phew! Where to begin...I just walked in the door after taking yet another run through the cobbled streets of Lund...the snow let up for a bit and the sun is doing wonders to give the town a bit more..life. There are folks biking through the streets, kids playing in what's left of the snow banks, and old men trekking around the local park in droves. Not a bad look at all...now on to last night!
After a bit of a frantic excursion to several local music stores in search of some last minute supplies, Johan, Grieves, and I made the 15 trip down to Malmo to link up with Supreme (of Looptroop Rockers fame), his wife Anya, and their 6 month old daughter. I had heard a lot about them while we were traveling through the states together, and it was really nice to finally meet them in person. Supreme walked us to their local Sushi spot, which was located in the Malmo equivalent of Williamsburg...quite a sight, and a bit comforting/terrifying to note that hipster-ness is more of a universal affliction than I had previously thought. Ahh, the comforts of home. While the sushi place suffered from a bit of an unfortunate name (Chill Out...), the food was incredible. Coincidentally enough, they "just so happened" to have a Looptroop CD on the stereo when we walked in the door...which gave some credence to a statement made later on in the night by a Danish dude, which went something along the lines of "You know Supreme?? Of the Looptroop Rockers?!?! They are Scandinavian SUPER HEROES!!" Amazing.
After the sushi spot, and following a warm goodbye from Anya and the baby, we all piled into Johan's Mazda station wagon and began the trip down into Denmark. 45 minutes, 1 international border, and one of the longest bridges in the world later, we found ourselves in the heart of Copenhagen. Our route into the city took us in from the North, and allowed us the pleasure of driving right past the famous Tivoli grounds, which were just beginning to light up as the sun set. A bit of extra time to explore would have been wonderful, but I was grateful to get to see it, however briefly. As much as a truism as this may sound like, it's really incredible to be in the midst of so much OLD stuff...churches, houses, streets...hundreds and hundreds, and in the case of the Stave Church here in downtown Lund, thousands, of years old.
We pulled up to the unfortunately named Club Rust, and began the process of unloading our equipment into the venue. There was a massive wrought iron gate in front of the club which, I was told, had been installed the previous year after a molotov cocktail attack destroyed the original building. They don't fuck around here.
Load-in itself was a breeze, but soundcheck was a bit more of an ordeal. Just before leaving the states, i.e. at the tail end of 4 sleepless, heavy driving, show/vegas filled, days, we stumbled into the local Target in Fort Collins, CO and purchased as many US-European power adapters as we could find. 5 in total. Good? Not exactly. Plugging in our equipment on stage, everything briefly powered up...a couple of crucial pieces of gear, including a guitar pedal and line mixer, just as quickly powered down. A slight burning smell followed and, try as we might, we could get anything to turn back on. Thanks entirely to the incredible level of professionalism and sheer helpfulness of the sound tech at Rust, we discovered that while we had, indeed, purchased the correct adapters, we had purchased anything that was capable of down-converting the European 220 voltage to the standard American 110 voltage. In short, we had fried our shit. Great. The line mixer problem was solved with a couple of DI boxes...not a problem for the keyboards, but the guitar, which also had to be DI'd, ended up sounding like well tuned elephant trunk run through a megaphone on top of a Nixon for President truck. Not good, but not as terrible as it could have been.
Debacle (somewhat) averted, we headed upstairs and got to spend a bit of time getting acquainted with the rest of the folks on the tour. Ali was wonderfully gracious. Such a strong presence, it was truly an honor to be chopping it up with someone I've admired for so long. BK-One was a pleasure to meet, and the rest of the folks behind the scenes on the tour are the model of professionalism. I have a feeling this is gonna be one of those tours that spoils a person....and there's nothing wrong with that.
The show:
Grieves and I were pretty fucking nervous, standing on a stage in front of a sold-out crowd full of folks that literally had no idea who we were. Thankfully, a shaky first 30-seconds gave way to wonderful set. The crowd was incredible, participating and engaging in a way that you seldom see in the states. The sound was great! All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better forum to introduce our odd-ball brand of live hip-hop to a foreign audience. We're really lucky to have the opportunity to stand on these stages, in these countries, opening up for Brother Ali and BK-One. Truly.
I'm in a bit of a hurry, having spent too much time elaborating on the earlier parts of the day, but I'll leave you with these thoughts:
1. The bridge between Denmark and Sweden is much longer at night.
2. Supreme and Johan are 2 of my favorite people in the world
3. Danish people LOVE to give you beer. At one point I was holding 3 full pint glasses, none of which I purchased myself, and none of which I ended up drinking.
4. Mat, our tour manager, has a Sprinter that is much, much more awesome than our Sprinter. It has a bed!
Now off for a quick shower, and then a two block walk up the street to the Meijeriet to soundcheck for our show tonight in Lund!
More tomorrow, folks!
A.R.M featuring Slug (Atmosphere) - Fear of the Mundane
I'm pretty excited to be able to share this with you all. The first single off of our upcoming EP, Two Africans and a Jew (to be released at the end of March), this song features the generous talent of Slug. I grew up listening to this dude, and it's an honor to get a chance to work with him. I'm also pretty damn proud at how well the A.R.M sound is developing, with both Krukid and M.anifest bringing some incredible strength and presence to the track.
The EP is….if I do say so myself…pretty damn cool. Expect another leak or two in the next couple weeks, with news on an exact release date coming very soon. And, for the very first time, you'll be able to cop the record from your electronic retailer of choice! If you buy the full record, you'll get all of the instrumentals free of charge! How's that for a good deal??
Let me know what you think of the song if you're so inclined, with comments welcome as always.
A.R.M - Fear of the Mundane feat. Slug (Atmosphere) by BudoEurope Day 2
In an insane attempt to power through a "normal waking day", I managed to keep myself awake last night until about 10 pm local time, the final two hours of which were spent mindlessly consuming a bizarre combination of Swedish cheese, candy hummus, and a cocktail of coffee and Johnny Walker Black. Ugh. Johan, Grieves, and I ventured into town for a couple of hours before the crash, and, after a rather ridiculous 15 minutes in the local H&M (When in Sweden...), we ended up at a local coffee shop/bar. The name of the place has escaped me, but it was a dope little spot, with a rather eclectic collection of tattered chairs, stacks of vaguely socialist looking literature, and enough beautiful women walking around to make our sleep-deprived conversational nonsense seem bearable to poor Johan. One beer and several bloodshot hours later, we headed towards a local grocery store to procure the afore-mentioned delicacies. The following ensued:
12 hours of sleep later, I woke up on a couch, threw my running clothes on, and ventured out on a jog. I was surprised at how small the town is, though I suppose I shouldn't be, as even though Lund is a relatively notable spot, the entire population of Sweden could probably be crammed into the state of Kentucky...not that you'd want to do anything like that, but for the purpose of demonstration...
Right now, I'm sequestered in a local coffee shop, educating myself on the intricacies of Ableton LIve, with the intention of integrating the software into our live set tonight. I smell a trainwreck! In about an hour, Johan, Grieves, and I are heading into nearby Malmo to re-unite with Supreme of the Looptroop Rockers, stuff him into the Volkswagen, and head on in to Copehangen to meet up with the Ali tour.
More to come!
Europe Day 1
As this European tour is a bit of a unique experience, I'm going to do my best to try and document it a bit more comprehensively than I do our normal travels. So, you know, I can live vicariously through myself when I turn 35...and am working at the local Blockbuster.
Following our day off in Vegas (which was, as a side note, not a very good idea), we headed up to Park City, UT for our final headlining date before heading out of the country. Park City was good, though the impending overnight drive made it a bit hard to fully enjoy the show.
The overnight drive was terrible. After pulling off the road to use the bathroom in the middle of Wymoning, Matt happened upon an elderly man doing cocaine off the sink. At 730 in the morning. I hate Wyoming.
We blasted through Fort Collins, picked up a our first hard copies of the Confessions of Mr. Modest (!!), and headed down to DIA to hop our first of three flights that would eventually lead us over the Atlantic. 1 "lost" Serato box, $300 of extra bagge fees, and a whole lot of confusion later, Grieves and I found ourselves on a packed United flight to Boston. I sat next to two women who spent the entire 4 hour trip consternating over bed spreads and drapes. It was like being trapped in a flying episode of the View.
We landed in Boston, left security, re-checked in to our IcelandAir flight, we went back through security, ate "The World's Best Hot Sandwich" (severely mis-represented), and boarded a flight to Reykjavik. 5 sleepless stuck in between two very large, snoring, Skandanavian dudes later....Iceland.
As I was getting ready to exit the plane, I heard someone shout "Budo??" from the rear of the aircraft...a bunch of kids on the flight had caught our most recent Burlington, VT date. Really, really surreal to be recognized in Iceland. Pretty awesome!
Grieves and I killed the hour of free time we had at the Reykjavik airport trying to digest as much local culture as is possible from within the confines of an international airport..i.e., we ate breakfast....or lunch, or dinner, or whatever the goddamn meal was appropriate to my screwed up internal clock. Whatever it was, the airport furnished an incredibly delicious breakfast buffet, complete with gravlaks, poached eggs, fresh fruit, and rye crackers...reminded me of the year I spent in Norway as a kid. No, seriously. Unfortunately, the Icelandic candy that I purchased as an after-meal treat was not so delicious. It was, honestly, the most horrifyingly disgusting thing I've ever consumed...with a taste somewhere in between dead fish and cigarette butts. After choking on my first (and last) piece in the boarding line, the lady behind me remarked "They're sugar free!" Sure, but so is horse shit.
Another 3 hour flight and we finally landed in Copenhagen. Following a remarkably painless baggage collection process 9 bags between two dudes is pretty ridiculous, we made it through customs without a hitch and were met by our dear friend Johan, whom we met and traveled with on the Cunninlynguists/Looptroop tour last November. He's a huge part of the reason that we were able to make this tour feasibly work, and has really graciously opened his home to Grieves and I for the Scandinavian portion of this run.
After an odd lunch spent in a Lund burger spot, watching Mariah Carey music videos on a massive flat screen TV with the sound all the way down and weird Swedish marching band music piped over the PA system, I took a long run through this little college town in the very South of Sweden. Though the white-washed palate of an un-characteristically cold winter has imparted a slight hue of post-communist Russia on my surroundings, I'm really really really happy to be here.
Tonight, a beer or two and then as much sleep as is humanely possible before we head down to Copenhagen tomorrow to join the US tour! Oh, and our Rhymesayers debut 88 Keys and Counting comes out tomorrrrrrrow!!
And thus concludes the longest blog I've ever posted.
