11.20.01: Schipol airport

And here we are again. Back at Schipol Airport in Amsterdam where this particular diary began three weeks and two days ago.
That's it! 23 days. How can that be possible? It seems we have crammed a lifetime of experiences in that short period--19 shows in five countries, the rapid evolution of a fine five-piece band, good music, good food, so many old friends revisited and so many new friends made for future visits. And the last 24 hours have been a continuing series of painful farewells. We left Heilbronn with a Goodbye for Edgar Heckmann and then drove to Cologne where we said goodbye to agent Chris Jaeker, John Parker and Hammi (who was celebrating a birthday) and then on to Hoogezand where we said hello and goodbye to Jaap and Corrie along with our backline. Chris went back to Amsterdam to catch a plane to LA in the middle of the night. goodbye, goodbye. And then we gave our farewells to Carsten who dropped us off at the airport. Jason and Scott just left to board their plane to New York (goodbye, goodbye) and now Linda and I are waiting for our flight to Minneapolis where we will enter a recuperation period of sleep followed by holiday turkey. Man, that's a lot of goodbyes and with the inverse proportion of sleep (i.e. nearly none) I think I will be closing my eyes and saying goodbye to immediate consciousness the moment I find my seat on the plane. And for you, my dear eavesdroppers, I say Goodbye Goodbye until the next tour. We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming..

11.18.01: Goppingen

We meet a lot of nice people along the way but few are nicer than Frieder and Rosaria, our promoters in Goppingen. We first met them in 1998 when in the midst of a very long tour we arrived to the Odeon venue quite weary and in need of food, comfort and all of the little things that mean so much during a long journey and we fell into their pre-show mecca of kindness, hugs, smiles and an incredible array of wonderful cheeses and other snacks. We, as other bands have along the way I'm sure, found our perfect surrogate parents for the night and, in fact, we found our new surrogate siblings in their twin sons Flavio and Fabrizio, who are now the rhythm section in Barbara Manning's new band the Go-Luckys. Anyway, special people like this tend to stand out in your memory and I was really looking forward to the return to the place of our meeting as we drove to Goppingen yesterday. The drive had been a long one (about six hours) and just like three years ago we were pretty weary and just like three years ago we were delighted to find the warmth, kindness, enthusiasm and incredible mozzarella cheese and tomatoes that were there waiting for us. It's incredible on tour how far a little kindness can go and, thus, even more incredible how far a LOT of kindness can go and we responded with a spirited, fiery set that belied the long hours of road time and corresponding short hours of bed time. There to witness the celebration was Edgar from Blue Rose as well as Steffan, one of our favorite multi-show road fan/friends (this was his third visit of the tour). And now
it's on to the last show but with such a fortification of good times we are coming into the home stretch with full power.

11.16.01: Dover to Calais ferry

London swings. They say it do. London swings. And I know it's true. There you go, my friends. A little poem and that's about the best I can do this Friday morning after three hours of sleep and a wild night in the West End. I hadn't been 100% happy (maybe about 93%, if I remember right) with the last gig in London in June and felt a dogged determination to play the best show ever in history. Well, that's the case most nights but last night we came pretty close. the Miracle 3+1 was firing on all cylinders and we turned the fabulous Borderline (another of my homes away from home) into equal parts love fest, horror show, white-knuckle thrill ride and homecoming parade. And with all of us in good spirits, filled with adrenaline and hardly ready for bed we all moved next door to the revamped Crow Bar which is run by my old friend Richard who used to work at the Borderline. And suddenly London has lifted the stifling early bar-closing laws (either 11pm or 1am in the past) and bars now stay open until 3am which is a good or a bad thing depending on your particular head and body the next morning.....and who was there? Man, who wasn't? Of course there was my Top Mate Barry Everitt, former tour manager, sound man, manager, agent (his number has been retired in all of those categories) and forever friend. Now he is booking the Borderline and doing quite well, looking great and I'm so happy for him. And then there was Sid Griffin, who missed the show (he is a very responsible Daddy these days, after all) but hung at the end of the
night with Stephen McCarthy stories of his own (his former Long Ryders buddy had been in London two days before). And there was Blue Aeroplanes head honcho Gerard Langley, publicists supremos Chris Carr and Penny Brignell, Nick from Bucketful of Brains and Stav from Comes with a Smile. I'm telling you, a star-studded, friend-filled night and the ferry ride left us with good memories to go with the exhaustion, duty free shopping, bangers and baked beans.
Sleep? Later, my friends, much later

11.15.01: Dover

Anarchy in the UK? Well, it's much too early to tell but we did have a junk food/culture trip on the 90 minute ferry from Calais today. On the food side there were various burgers, Cadbury chocolate bars, french fries and Boddington Bitter Ales along with the cultural buffet platter of British tabloids (the Sun, the Mirror and also the more sobering balance of the Times) and the onboard video jukebox that kept us all enthralled and had us feeding our freshly acquired pound coins to see vids by Fatboy Slim, Outkast, Spiritualized, Joy Division, Eminem and the Bee Gees. As touring is the time when I allow myself the decadent semi-joy of sitting in hotel rooms and watching MTV I had a hard time justifying the overload of doing the same on a boat but I was happy to freeload the fun of my bandmate's choices. Scott had the best idea of all, disappearing to the front of the boat and watching the approaching white cliffs of Dover while eating what he described as "very good" fish and chips. We were all put to shame.

Now, you may question the wisdom and/or sanity of picking up the Sun, a yellow rag if there ever was one but it did allow me to see the story of the Status Quo guitarist who had to retire this week due to a repetitive muscle strain brought on by--I'm not kidding--playing the same three chords over and over for 35 years. Given that, I'm glad we shook up the set a little last night in Aachen and threw in versions of "This Deadly Game," "Blackout" and "Topanga Canyon Freaks." Much more than the E-A-B7 routine that was suggested as the cause for the S-Quo retirement. A show played to a very low quotient of sports fans as we were told that any German football fan was at home watching the national team beat the Ukrainian team 4-0 to qualify for the World Cup.

11.14.01: Cologne

The band is all aflutter. We've been shopping. And indeed Cologne has become one of our favorite cities as so many of our good friends (Hammi, Ullrich, Chris, Christian, Thomas, Stefan and more) and have all turned us on to the best places to buy whatever excites each individual member (records, clothes, food, internet cafes, etc). And with a short drive today to Aachen we had a full day to explore the city. Carsten returned to his apartment (he lives here, too!), John and Scott have been exploring the city for laundry and internet access, Linda scored some mighty cool, mod clothing (nice shoes!) and Jason, Chris and I went to pay our respects to the biggest record store in all of Europe--Saturn. This hallowed monolith of music acquisition has been a favorite of mine for many tours and a veritable suction cup for the wallet. Today I was relatively well-behaved, keeping to a pre-planned list and buying "only" the latest Luke Haines (from the Auteurs--one of my favorite bands), the new Pulp, the first Saints album and a new Einsturzende Neubaten 2-CD compilation that Jason had picked up last week. Chris got cd's by A-Camp (produced by Mark Linkous--gotta hear that one), Beth Hirsch, Nick Drake and Devo while Jason picked up a live Chuck Prophet record, Air's "Virgin Suicides" an obscure Ed Kuepper and the "Melody Nelson" album by Serge Gainsbourg. The various
CD-disc players will be busy in the coming days.

11.12.01: Somewhere in France

Not much to say, really. We're in the midst of our mondo-drive to Cologne and Chris is making his debut behind the wheel. He reminded me that he once drove a truck to help me move some furniture (back in LA, circa 1988) and that was good enough for me. He just announced that we are "in a merge situation" which caused me to look up for a few seconds and not worry much. I am more worried about Carsten's clay "animal" which fell about an hour ago and had its head separated from its body. The "animal" (it's yellow and somewhat resembles a giraffe) has traveled with Carsten for many tours and is considered to be a good luck charm, a patron saint of the road and it has certainly done okay by us, though I do remember a similar incident when it fell on the last tour and was saved by an infusion of Super Glue. Right now our tour manager is grieving but I have a feeling it will all work out.

11.09.01: Driving To Portugal

Everyone in the van agrees that this has been one of the lost surreal drives of all time. It began at 9am in Bilbao as we fought heavy rains to get out of town and headed up into the hills as we approached Burgos and were met with blizzard-like conditions. the snow was coming down hard and traffic was moving at the dizzying clip of, oh I don't know, about 2 miles an hour. A good thing, too, as dozens of cars and trucks had skidded off the road and were already covered with snow. Seemed pretty dire but next thing we knew the snow had stopped and within an hour we were driving in Sunny weather through desolate desert-like conditions that remind me of Central California. what's next? frogs? locusts?

Another fun show with the Jayhawks last night and I wish we had more than two shows with them. They're a great band (I've been a fan for years) and are very good people as well. And I'm always happy for the chance to hang out with Stephen. I met him 20 years ago. 20 years! can that be possible? Ended up singing Tim Hardin's "Reason to Believe" with them for the encore and Linda (who knows all of the 'Hawks from her Minneapolis days) joined on percussion and backing vocals.

Look! the sun is shining!

11.08.01: Leaving Madrid

Man, you should have been there. What had been a fiery, tour-highlight monster of a show opening for the Jayhawks in Madrid got even better when we were joined for the encore by Stephen McCarthy for a rousing version of "Baby We All Gotta Go Down." It was all the more exciting since Stephen, Chris Cacavas and I had all recorded the song together in 1984 for the Danny and Dusty "The Lost Weekend" album and it was about as close to a D&D reunion as is likely to happen anytime soon. Stephen, who also played with me in Gutterball and actually replaced me in an embryonic version of the Long Ryders, is now adding his incredible guitar, vocal and pedal steel talents to the Jayhawks and is enjoying his first tour since 1995 when Gutterball went into our extended hibernation. I hadn't even seen him in years and it was great to catch up on all the developments that have happened since we were last together. And there was yet more talk about that third G-Ball album that I SWEAR is going to be recorded sometime in the semi-near future.

It was an exhilarating thrill to play to a sold-out, super-packed room of fans of both the 'Hawks and my music. We turned up the juice and crammed several hours worth of energy into our one-hour set, making new friends and rocking old ones as well. Pretty much a perfect night even though it didn't quite end until 6am as there was a post-show party at the Freeway Club where more stories were traded and the sunrise was just narrowly avoided. Well, we ARE in the land of the siesta and I think I'll try one out right now.

11.07.01: The road to Madrid

As usual, Spanish tours mean wild shows, enthusiastic fans and strong coffee along with late nights, long drives and a relaxed pace of life. All of this adds up to little or no sleep which is bringing on some good stream-of-consciousness, giddy van chatter. Can't really give you a word-for-word transcript but some of the topics have included Hall and Oates, Van Morrison, Wham, the Museum of Radio and Television, fights witnessed in Croatia and some of Robbie Robertson's lame comments in "The Last Waltz." Oh, and go-karts, combs and shepherds. And the subjects change in only slightly more time than it took to write this paragraph. I'm telling you--STRONG coffee.

Played Sala Quatro in Valencia last night. A great club I remember from 1999. No stage and no barrier between band and audience which means you are staring right into the eyes of the audience and can, as I did, place a Telecaster right around the neck of a fan during the third verse of 'Halloween' (he did a fine job, controlling the feedback using the volume knob) and have it back in time for the song's conclusion. Gotta get that guy
on my next record.

11.06.01: Entering Spain

Even though European touring offers the chance to eat a great deal of wonderful and exotic food it usually is consumed quickly as meals have to be sandwiched (some pun intended) between sound checks and the gig itself. And, since a painfully full belly isn't the best condition for a lean, mean rocking show, we often find ourselves eating just enough to get a taste of the local cuisine and then putting down the forks and getting back to the venue. So when we found ourselves waking up in Massa Carrara (near Bologna) at the start of a day off/travel day we took the opportunity to track down the first restaurant we saw and settle in for a long lunch. And we lucked out. A great place called Il Cascinale where the food was incredible, the owner was friendly and the piano had once been played by Duke Ellington. In other words, a perfect afternoon with penne, ravioli, rissotto, grilled seafood, desserts, wine, espresso and a short blues piano recital by none other than Chris Cacavas. Food coma intact we got back in the van and drove for seven hours through France, ending up at the Spanish border. A fan at the last show complained that I hadn't kept a tour diary in the US (which would have been a good idea--sorry!) claiming that the details of the US road would be interesting and exotic to the European readers but, really, I don't see how tales of Waffle House, Denny and Taco Bell could top this particular entry. But, then again, there WAS that carnitas burrito in Chicago.......

11.05.01: Leaving Dresden

First of all, let me just say that you really shouldn't ever play slide guitar with the top of a pumpkin. Take it from me--I've tried it. I was inspired by a pre-show not-to-be-taken-seriously dare from Jason to play the solo on "Halloween" with the jack-o'-lantern that was so kindly placed backstage by the fantastic crew of Dresden's Star Club, a fine establishment I have played several times over the last ten years. Jason later told me that he figured there really was no way to play guitar with a pumpkin but midway through my guitar solo I looked over at that grinning orange behemoth that was now sitting on top of Chris' keyboard and just felt moved, compelled and I just had to pull off the top, wrap my fingers around it and--surprise, surprise!--the inside was wet, slimy and nearly impossible to hold, something I discovered after I had already started grinding it into my strings, splattering orange goo across my Telecaster. After about 20 seconds (and it DID actually make a fine slide) I tossed my orange friend across the stage, knocking over two beer bottles that Scott had set out for the evening and played the rest of the song, pumpkin intestines dripping from my fingers. A good celebration of the trick-or-treat holiday, in my back. A fine trick and the treats had come earlier in the form of a delicious schnitzel prepared by the club's cook Matthias. Food that good and I'll keep coming back--but you had better keep me away from the pumpkins.

11.04.01: Traffic jam near Florence

Wow, this is the Mother of All Traffic Jams. It seems like everyone in Italy was on vacation this holiday weekend and are all trying to return home to Florence at this very minute. Either that or about 100,000 people are all on their way to tonight's show in which case they'll be very disappointed to find that we aren't even there yet. Whatever the reason, we have been covering this same small stretch of highway for the last three hours and I can only imagine the cramp that John Parker must be developing in his foot right now. Survival? No problems--we have 20 bottles of wine and lots of cookies. oh my, we'd better get there soon. But at least we have great memories of last night's show in Rome to think about as we watch the same three or four cars keep pace with us (hey, the people on the bus next to us are watching TV! I wonder if I can see what they're watching....) Another packed and loving crowd at the legendary Big Mama and we played one of my favorite sets that I've ever played in the club (and I've played a few--maybe about 20) Played "Blackout" live for the first time (I think) and Chris and I encored with an unrehearsed "Whatever You Please." The show was recorded but I haven't heard the tapes yet so I don't know what the evidence will show but my memory tells me it was one of the best shows of the tour. And if this traffic doesn't move much faster it might be the LAST show of the tour. Hey, let's break out those cookies. And hide the wine (NOVEMBER 4)

11.03.01: Entering Rome

What was once a Rock Van is now a Rolling Wine Cellar. They take their wine seriously up in the Northeast of Italy and we left the gig in Tarzo with about 20 bottles given to us by various fans, friends and promoters (really, all the same when you think about it). I'm pretty sure that most of it's pretty great stuff and I expect some good day-off party in the near future.

On the other hand, there was more cause for concern than celebration as the gig drew near and it looked like Jason may not be able to join us for the festivities. The not-so-rookie guitarist (he is approaching his 100th show with me, after all) came down with either food poisoning, a stomach flu or a nasty reaction to too many Italian cookies and was unable to play, speak, stand or even make bad jokes (the latter certainly a sign that something was wrong). We were getting ready to play without him when he gave a shaky thumbs-up, came down from his hotel room and said something like "Okay, my rock friends, LET'S GET IT ON!" well, maybe it was more like a whispered "I think I'm okay." And with that Jason came through, played a great show and now is back to his usual self which is only slightly less worrisome.

11.02.01: Driving into Italy

The sun is rising, the band is sleeping, John Parker is driving and everything is pretty quiet. I've written about overnight drives before and I won't bore you by going into detail about them again. Suffice to say they are surreal, disorienting and somewhat grueling but they get you where you're going and don't happen all that often (only once this tour). And the timing for this 10-hour trip from Neustadt (Germany) to Tarzo (Italy) couldn't have been better as it coincided with Game 5 of the baseball World Series between the New York Yankees and the Arizona Diamondbacks. The game started about 2am our time, shortly after we left the club and both the signal (various Armed Forces Radio broadcasts) and my ability to stay awake faded in and out but I finally came to life just in time to hear third baseman Scott Brosius tie up the game with a two-run homer with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. Incredible! And I managed to stay awake until the sun was rising and the Yankees won in (I think) the 12th inning. Did my best to explain the game to Carsten who has had previous experiences with baseball fanaticism as the tour manager for Barbara Manning (a Giants fan, by the way). And, really, there are few things as exciting and also weird as hearing a wild, exciting baseball game from a van while the sun is rising over the German highway. The Yankees can win it all on Saturday and I'll be hunting down the broadcast all over town. May not get much sleep this week.

11.01.01: Leaving Dresden

First of all, let me just say that you really shouldn't ever play slide guitar with the top of a pumpkin. Take it from me--I've tried it. I was inspired by a pre-show not-to-be-taken-seriously dare from Jason to play the solo on "Halloween" with the jack-o'-lantern that was so kindly placed backstage by the fantastic crew of Dresden's Star Club, a fine establishment I have played several times over the last ten years. Jason later told me that he figured there really was no way to play guitar with a pumpkin but midway through my guitar solo I looked over at that grinning orange behemoth that was now sitting on top of Chris' keyboard and just felt moved, compelled and I just had to pull off the top, wrap my fingers around it and--surprise, surprise!--the inside was wet, slimy and nearly impossible to hold, something I discovered after I had already started grinding it into my strings, splattering orange goo across my Telecaster. After about 20 seconds (and it DID actually make a fine slide) I tossed my orange friend across the stage, knocking over two beer bottles that Scott had set out for the evening and played the rest of the song, pumpkin intestines dripping from my fingers. A good celebration of the trick-or-treat holiday, in my back. A fine trick and the treats had come earlier in the form of a delicious schnitzel prepared by the club's cook Matthias. Food that good and I'll keep coming back--but you had better keep me away from the pumpkins.

10.31.01: The road to Dresden

Celebrated Halloween a few hours early at the Knaak Club in Berlin with their usual plentiful backstage display of tiny candy bars. And, really, the last thing you want to do before playing a rock show is to down about 15 Lion bars--that and a few cups of coffee will rev up the beats a little bit. And although I have passed the stage of grabbing everything from the dressing room (plastic cups! toilet paper! napkins!) as I did when I was starting out and living on peanut butter sandwiches I still cannot allow myself to walk away from a slew of tiny candy bars. no way. especially before Halloween and now Linda's bag is filled with the stuff. No tricks yet but plenty of treats--a happy Halloween in the big white van.

10.30.01: The road to Berlin

The Knust in Hamburg has always been one of my favorite clubs and I have had many good nights there over the year. The club has been in operation since the late 40s and I have been given all kinds of stories (true or false?) about the people who have played there. Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis, REM, who knows? It all makes for good stories. But, sadly, the club will be closed at the end of the year as the building is being torn down so we had to pay our respects by rocking the house and bringing down the walls just a little bit in advance. The place was packed and even the tiny stage (with five people!) offered the most breathing room and space in the club. Chris opened with a beautiful acoustic set that reminded me of why after 20 years of friendship I am still a fan as well.
And then we just blew threw two hours of songs from Here Come the Miracles and some older stuff as well. Chris requested that we do 'Weathered and Torn' on this tour (he was on the album version, after all) and we played it with the proper sleaze and dirt. Had a nightcap of some serious top-shelf Scotch Whiskey with the promoter Norbert after the show and gave him my wishes and hopes for a new club in the new year. Don't know if they will be able to book Miles Davis this time but there are plenty of new legends
just waiting in the wings.

10.29.01: Driving to Hamburgh

And now, as Sister Sledge would say, We Are Family. The various travelers all arrived from Norway (me, Linda, Jason and Scott), Los Angeles (Chris) and Cologne (Carsten and John) and proceeded to cram ourselves and all of our things into the latest version of the White Van and make our way up to Northern Holland where we emptied ourselves and our things into the Westbrooke community center where Tape Trader Supremo Jaap Bos had put together a party for his girlfriend Corrie and the locals were out in full force. And WE were the entertainment! Well, it was a good chance to test out equipment, fold Chris Cacavas into the mix and play every song we will be playing on this tour (about 40 all together). Yes, we played every last one of them and as the dancers became fewer and more weary the whole thing resembled something between a collapsing Sock Hop and the final scenes of "They Shoot Horses Don't They," (a great movie you all should see). We were fuelled by a seemingly endless supply of smoked eels which is certainly the thing to eat in Holland. Man, they're good.

10.28.01: Schipol Airport

Sitting here at my most-frequented airport, the sounds of a distant calliope bending me into a psychedelic stupor and waiting for Chris Cacavas to arrive from Los Angeles (via Frankfurt). Linda Pitmon and Jason Victor are off somewhere buying tea or chocolate or newspapers or clothes. Can't really be sure but how far can 75 guilders really go? And our brand new Miracle 3 bass player Scott Yoder (Dave DeCastro couldn't make it this time--he told me to tell you all he has joined Foghat. could it be true?) is pondering the various exchange rates and the ultimate cost to test out the new internet phones here. I think he might have better luck with the slot machines in the departure area. At that point we will be a sleep-deprived, scruffy five-piece band waiting for a big white van containing the Super Road Crew of Carsten Eckermann and John Parker. And at that moment the official Road Circus will begin.

The truth of the matter is that we have already been on tour for three days as a few dates in Norway were added on for the abbreviated four-piece band and the deleted crew (sleep-deprived, I tell you, forgive the syntax). Three wild, fun, herring-influenced shows in Oslo, Sandnes and Bergen but those (as Lou Reed would say) were different times. The tour starts here. Right now. In this chair. As I type these words.

I'm very excited to have this chance to deliver the gospel of 'Here Come the Miracles' with the record's fine co-producer and keyboard wizard Chris Cacavas. And to be able to hear him sing his songs each night will be a joy and inspiration. gospel indeed. And if these are nervous, scary, difficult, confusing times (and they are, my friends) I am happy to have the chance to use music as an emotional compass, a divining rod for transcendence
and understanding. And, of course, to have fun with all of my friends, including YOU, my dear readers.

so let's go. stay tuned.

9.14.01: 72 Hours in New York City

Hi Everybody,
I have been so touched and grateful to receive letters from so many of you asking to see if the band and I are okay. I am thankful to say that, for the most part, this horrible tragedy hasn’t directly hit us or our families but as citizens of New York, the United States and indeed The World we have been devastated by what has happened and by what may happen yet. Still, it is nice and helpful to know that we have such good friends around the world.
Thank you very much.

We will still be fulfilling all of our travel and performance plans. It will be good to see all of you this Fall and to have the chance to trade stories and thoughts.

The following is a story I was asked to write for the daily paper in Muenster, Germany. I hope it provides some glimpse into the experiences we had here in New York.

take care,

Steve Wynn
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72 Hours in New York City
I woke up Tuesday morning filled with the anxiety of a million things to do and not nearly enough time to do them, a familiar dilemna here in the frenzied city of New York. I had just returned from an East Coast tour and was busy preparing for another tour of the West Coast - we were scheduled to leave in 6 days. There were tickets to confirm, songs to learn, band members to organize and so many other things. How would I get everything done?
and then the phone rang.

It was my roommate calling from work. "Turn on the TV. I have to go now.." I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be so urgent but I reached for the remote control and my girlfriend/drummer Linda Pitmon and I watched in horror as flames shot from one of the towers of the World Trade Center. It was a horrible, surreal sight, like something out of a blockbuster action film. We were told the WTC had been hit by a plane and as absurd as it sounded we figured it had to be a small private plane that had gone out of control. Unlikely and confusing but seemingly the only explanation.

Until 9:03am when the second plane hit. And then the hints of terrorism, something that seemed vaguely paranoid only moments before suddenly became the only obvious explanation. We were speechless. This couldn’t be happening. The World Trade Center was an architectural, visual, symbolic center of the city we love. I had been there only 24 hours before, idly strolling through the underground mall, shopping for books, clothes and watching other people do the same. I loved those buildings.

But now they were on fire and the news media didn’t quite know what to say. Ominous words like ‘terrorism’ and ‘hijacking’ were being mentioned but human life, stories of escape and casualties were not , maybe for fear of causing alarm or broadcasting misinformation that would terrify everyone further. At this point it still seemed like the fire could be contained, that the buildings would be scarred but remain standing. We also remained hopeful that most people had escaped, run down fire escapes and that--hope upon hope--nobody would be caught inside the building. Delusional, yes but we were still holding out hope as we watched the buildings burn and the people running away on the ground. Nothing like this had even happened before--this couldn’t be happening! it had to have a happy ending.

And then the first tower collapsed. just like that. where there once was a very familiar and awesome structure now there was nothing. and suddenly there was no more delusion of containment, of hope. that was all over. this was suddenly very very real . By the time the second tower collapsed it seemed almost like an inevitability. The city, the country, the world would never be the same. Our stoic, jaded, strong, weathered exteriors had cracked. The foundation of our security like the foundation of the building had given way and we could only wait in shock.

Linda’s sister Brenda worked in a building only blocks from the World Trade Center. We called her just moments after the second plane hit and with a trembling voice she described the fireball that filled the view of her office window. Linda told her to put down the phone and ‘just get out, GO! ‘ That was the last we heard from her sister for three hours. Three nervous and terrifying hours. This story has a happy ending unlike so many others and Brenda called us at noon to tell us that she was walking the seven miles to my apartment and was just fine. She arrived soon to our great relief, shaken but strong and filled with horrible, unbelievable stories that would be echoed in other accounts that would fill the news for the next few days.

Suddenly the obligations and deadlines and workloads and lists of things to do had evaporated like the giant twin towers. Concerns about plane tickets and guitar strings gave way to finding t-shirts and socks and toothbrushes for rescue workers. Worrying about rehearsals and sound checks and set lists were overtaken by wondering where to give blood. I had been in LA for the giant earthquakes of 1972 and 1994 but those did nothing to prepare for this catastrophe. There was no script for this kind of a disaster.

Now 72 hours have passed and you’d hardly know that the south end of the island is a disaster area. The only indicators are the sounds of fighter jets flying overhead, the sirens of the ambulances occasionally racing down the Henry Hudson Parkway, and the slightly numb expressions of the people that you pass on the street. But the sun shines, stores are open, people dine in outdoor cafes, the occasional roller blader zips down the street. But unlike other, lesser catastrophes that disappear quickly in life’s rear-view mirror this will be around for a while. We will never feel as safe again, never take things for granted that had seem like absolutes in the hazy security of this country. The city has a whole new meaning and reality and haunted history.

And the day-to-day obligations and things that seemed impossible and generated anxiety seem just a little bit smaller.

6.02.01: Leaving Beverungen

LEAVING BEVERUNGEN--All four of us walked off-stage after the Glitterhouse Records' Orange Blossom Special festival with the same comment: 'Best show of the tour!' It's unanimous--the combination of the large, enthusiastic crowd, the one bit of good weather in the middle of a cold stormy day, good stage sound and then the resulting show that was at once very solid, tight and WAY OUT THERE made for 70 minutes that seemed to pass by in an instant. But once the last notes had been sounded we put away our instruments and began the second festival, the all-night party backstage with so many friends. It was like a premature end-of-tour party with so many friends from other points of the tour, really too many to mention, and various snacks, libations and chances to watch great sets by Hazeldine (with Dave's old bandmate Neal Casal), Go To Blazes and a supergroup with Chris and Carla (Walkabouts) and Paul Austin/Robert Fisher (Willard Grant Conspiracy) the latter of which found me and the Miracle 3 up on stage for backing vocals on the classic 'Work Song.' Seems a shame to limit such a wonderful night to one paragraph but that's exactly what I must do as it turns out it WASN'T an end of tour party and Belgium and London lie ahead in the next 36 hours. the home-stretch, my friends but only a temporary break as more and more touring still to come (JUNE 2)
bonus tour diary update: Moments after filing the last entry we pulled alongside an orange VW van and Carsten began smiling and waving to the woman in the driver's seat. Knowing that our tour manager isn't given to random flirting we wondered what was going on. Turns out that the object of his giddy greeting was none other than his sister Katya. Yes, dear readers, we just happened to be on the same stretch of autobahn at the same moment that Carsten's sister was returning from a weekend of wind-surfing in Holland. Is that strange enough for you? Well, get this: IT'S CARSTEN'S BIRTHDAY. such weird collisions of fate and happenstance is enough to warrant a special bonus entry AND brother-and-sister reunion photo (above).

6.01.01: Somewhere on the Autonbahn

Long drive today and right now we are somewhere in Germany on our way to tonight's show in Breda. 450 miles that began in Arhus and will end near the Holland/Belgium border and lots of time to read, sleep, type, tell jokes and look for various indigenous foods (like the amazing bratwurst that Linda ate at the last stop. I had split pea soup with a hot dog inside. Jason scored something with tofu. Dave had an Chinese concoction with chicken. John had a salad and Carsten went for the schnitzel. so now you know). The tour is entering its final days and thoughts are slowly moving towards "What am I going to do with all of this STUFF once the tour is over?" Suitcases will be rearranged, instrument cases will be filled with extra items like CDs, clothes and books. Magazines long-since saved will be skimmed and tossed. Candy bars and bits of food will be discovered in horror and dragged to the nearest garbage can. Things like that. but not before four more very exciting shows. Last night, for example we played the new and incredible Voxhall Club in Arhus. It stands on the site of the old, legendary Huset where I played many shows in the last decade. One wall on one side of the building is all that's left from the old place and as much as I dug the Huset I absolutely LOVE the new club. Great sound, perfect size, great sight-lines, friendly staff and the band is seriously considering it to be the best venue of the tour. But the voting is not in yet--check your TV listings for the upcoming Steve Wynn and the MIracle 3 End of Tour Awards Program which will hosted by Whoopi Goldberg sometime next month. A gala event.

5.30.01: Gothenburg

A night off. Pizza. Wine. Good conversation. Sloth-like TV-watching (Leno, Letterman and the incredible Harold Schmidt, a German carbon copy of Letterman that must be seen to be believed) and finally sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. We are the camels of dreamland. We store up on the stuff all at once. and make it last for weeks and weeks of slumber drought.
And Norway is somewhere behind us in the misted-over rear-view-mirror. We said our goodbyes to our good friend Steve Hochman who ended his tenure as roadie (and a fine roadie he was!) who flew back to LA the morning after the wild show in Oslo which featured dancing (much of it interpretive), singing and mighty boisterous behavior for a Monday night. Touring Scandinavia in the late Spring is very surreal as we tend to go on stage just as the sun is setting and then leave the club as the sun is coming back up again. Weird.

And now begins a run of six shows in six days to finish off what has been a great tour, one of my favorites. But that means 144 hours of photos, tales, anecdotes and from-the-van exclusives. Stay tuned.

5.28.01: The road to Oslo

In Norway a hot dog is not just a hot dog. No way, kids, a dog and a bun with a touch of mustard or ketchup will just not suffice over here. Instead you need to wrap the bugger in bacon, top it with french fried onions and then top the whole thing with a gooey shrimp salad. No kidding. And on our long, long drive to Oslo today I had to succumb to all of the above EXCEPT the shrimp salad. That's just weird. Most everyone shared in the dog experience except our resident veggie Jason who went for the french fries which WEREN'T covered in french fried onions, as that would have been a near redundancy. Linda got some mixed nuts which WEREN'T covered in shrimp salad. There. Now you're all up to speed with our lunch break.
Last night's show in Egersund was a marvel, a mystery, a bundle of fun. We had spent the entire Sunday afternoon canvassing the town and seeing about ten people on the street during the course of the entire day. But by 10pm (a full hour before the brief Northern sundown) the club was filled with townspeople looking for a good time. And that's exactly what they (and we) got with clapping and sing-alongs and boisterous and randomly shouted comments punctuating the evening. and that's even BEFORE we went on stage. Here with further commentary is our guest roadie/Dylan jam-specialist Steve Hochman:

Population 13,000 doesn't usually scream out "must-play gig" on a booking itinerary but the small town ma de up for its numbers in spirit. Steve W. is a bona fide star there, his legion led by a couple fanatics, including the genial owner of the local, influential record store. And despite the cramped quarters of the club and even more cramped stage, the show proved as boisterous as any in the week I've been freeloadi--uh, helping out. Further north we get, the crazier (in mostly good ways) the fans get. But the clear thing I've seen is that Steve, Linda, Dave and Jason would play as hard no matter the crowd or town. We lay-outsiders might take that for granted, but a week on the road with them has been an eye-opener for me about the kind of dedication and commitment it takes to do what Steve has been doing for as long as he's been doing it. Yesterday's show capped an endurance run that started with Friday night's all-night drive and continued with Saturday's ferry ride and that evening's long show and late night for all. OK, it's not sweatshop work, but it's a hell of a lot harder than sitting at home working the phones and writing a pop music column, especially with Steve serving as his own manager and having those responsibilities in addition to coming through on stage. It's also a lot more fun, but I don't know if I'd be able to do a full tour and keep the energy level up every night. They've also all kept up a remarkable level of humor and tolerance of li'l ol' stowaway me. Last night, for example, while scurrying across the stage as the band was getting ready for the encores, I caught my foot, full stride, on Dave's chord, jerking his bass in his hands and resulting in an impromptu, uncalled for dissonant outburst. Later, Steve came up to me and said, "Nice bass solo." (Perhaps the fact that the mishap occurred when I was retrieving the bottle opener from Jason to pop the tops on brews for the band--my most important guest-roadie duty--contributed to the understanding attitude.) Of course, the fact that they get to play THAT music for THOSE fans may be the secret. The strength of the new material and the willingness and ability of the band to turn down some new alleys with Steve--especially the acid-punk (hey! finally the old paisley tag might apply!) explorations of both the new "Smash Myself To Bits" and recharged ol' faves "Halloween" and "Burn"--have been revelatory, as Steve and Jason egg each other on into further reaches of guitar noise, standing toe-to-toe with big grins on each face, while Linda and Dave sculpt shifting contours underneath, without any of them ever losing the song's' integral edge. Imagine a "Dark Star" that really ROCKS. And whatever they learn from wherever they've been on that journey seems to spark the rest of the material, from "Tell Me When It's Over" (as powerful as ever and with new richness) to the rhythm rides of the several highlights drawn from "Miracles." It clearly hasn't gotten stale for Steve--every night is different, so every night is new for him and band. But given the touring pace, it's almost easy to see why some acts opt for the security of doing more or less the same thing every show. But now I really have a new appreciation for those who won't settle for that, and still keep the quality level peaking night after night. Collect those bootlegs from this tour--all the shows seem to be special (even the Dylan-night amateur hour). And my enthusiasm isn't just from the roadside hot dog...though there is an odd sensation in my gut I'm not so sure about.

5.27.01: Entering Norway

The West Coast of Norway is one of the most beautiful places on Earth and is only enhanced by the surreal addition of having driven all night through Denmark, waited two hours in a Ferry parking lot and then sleeping for four hours across the North Sea on the way to Norway. The whole entourage disappeared into various bunk beds only to meet up in the ferry's cafeteria over coffee and french fries and comparing the various joys of the sleep over rolling waters (wasn't that one of Art Garfunkel's finer moments?) Jason (above) shows the elation of discovering the name of his new Death Metal band as well as the initial album cover. Well done, Jason.
Last night's show was in Odense (Denmark) at the Rytmeposten, one of those clubs I have played regularly over the years. On a long tour it's always reassuring to get to a place where you know the layout of the room, the location of the backstage, the way to the train station and the location of the nearest Herald Tribune. And it's always great to see the house soundman Jan who has dutifully recorded and archived each of my shows there. Speaking of which, it was great to meet up with Jens Jakob, one of the strongest roots of the CD-trees that some of you duplicate, collect and distribute. Don't know if he was taping last night but we played one of the longest versions of 'Smash Myself to Bits' (which gets longer each night) and also tackled 'Weathered and Torn' for the first time in years (maybe since Dream Syndicate days, I'm not sure). But that all seems like years ago (instead of 18 hours). Tiny roads, parking lots, ferries and now sheep. Tons and tons of sheep.

5.27.01: Egersund

Gee, it seems pretty exciting. Awe-inspiring Norwegian fjords, masses of hefty, beautiful cattle and sheep (hi Art!) and green, green grass zoom by our rolling van window cinema-simulator. And memories of last night's show at Stavanger's Folken which found me pulling Jason's keyboard from its stand and playing organ parts for '500 Girl Mornings' standing up like some kind of renegade from ELP or at least Cameo while very enthusiastic and very inebriated locals cheered on. And the dream breakfast spread with--count 'em!--five kinds of herring along with various other swim-oriented oddities was a big hit. Hey, the last hours have been nothing but a barrage of stimulation of the various senses. So why is Carsten yawning? Must be a sudden withdrawal from chocolate. It HAD been about 15 minutes since his last candy bar. Quick--on to the next gas station!

5.25.01: The Road to Odense

Just had some spaetzle. Man, I love that stuff. It's a special German form of pasta, something like macaroni but longer, thicker and more dense. Certainly nap inducing especially when doused with cheese and gravy. When Rodney Crowell (as covered by my old band) claimed 'I Ain't Living Long Like This' I'm sure he wasn't referring to this particular form of artery-clogging chow but I am also sure that it is a food that, good as it is, you really wouldn't want to eat on a daily basis. But today it was the proper treat after a hot, body-fat-shedding evening at Hameln's Sumpfblume club. Our usual spaetzle-like set (dense, tasty, plentiful) was topped by a creamy, cheesy second encore of two Bob Dylan covers ("Outlaw Blues" and "Isis") to celebrate the big man's big day. Here with an exclusive report is our friend, guest roadie, traveling companion AND featured guitarist on the Dylan songs--STEVE HOCHMAN......
"Outlaw Blues" takes off smoking down the court like a Lakers fast break (by the way, I wonder how the Lakers are doing against theSpours....). Steve (Wynn, that is) is, oh, Ron Harper, the crafty veteran running the show, moving the ball upcourt. As the first break between verses comes up, he deftly turns and passes to Jason, the Kobe Bryant young hotshot who can take it straight to the hoop. Only Jason/Kobe doesn't. Instead he does a spin and a little head fake and makes a surprise pass to.....the guy who stands next to the bench and hands out towels to the players, but for some reason has stepped on to the court. And with an air of cool poise, the towel guy, though startled, takes the ball, tosses is up and, uh, clanks it off the bottom of the rim. And that, pretty much, was my European concert debut. What did you expect? Instant Richard Thompson guitar god? I'd never done anything like this in America, let alone Hameln. But perhaps the solo had an appropriately Dylanesque raggedness to it, and once I got that deer-in-the-headlights moment over, I found a comfortable groove with the rhythm parts and managed to neither embarrass mysel nor, most importantly, my too-kind and very tolerant hosts, who wisely chose only songs with three (or even two) chords for these encores. By now you're probably wondering why I was there in the first place, and why Steve and gang allowed it at all. The deal was that my wife, Mary Herczog, decided that after 17 years of a career in rock journalism in which the concept of "heavy lifting" meant carrying two notebooks instead of just one it was about time I got out there in the trenches and see what life is really like for all these rock 'n' roll working stiffs whose careers I exploit blithely from the comforts of my desk chair on a daily basis. So, having been friends with Mr. Wynn for, well, a long time, she conspired with him to get me a "gig" as guest roadie for a week with him in Europe helping load the van and set up drums and such, giving me this "gift" as a Christmas surprise. (Though honestly I think her real motive was to have me serve as a procurer and courier of European chocolate to feed her never-sated need for the stuff.) Anyway, Steve being overly trusting, even said that since he was going to be doing the Dylan tribute encores, I should tote my Strat along (I'm a lefty, so I can't simply borrow one of his or Jason's guitars) and join in. Since he's the boss, Jason, Linda and David (as well as tour manager Carsten and driver/merch man/go-go dancer John) had to go along with the foolish plan, and gave me nothing but full encouragement and support. Maybe it was that I had been currying their favor by having fresh beers waiting for them each night as they came off the stage. Or maybe they feed off the kind of fear that was radiating from behind my composed exterior. In any case, they played up a storm on the songs and made it a blast for me. Not only have I gotten to see what road life is really like, but I had a chance to experience what it's like to be on stage in the middle of a fantastic, loose, surging rock band flying just on the edge of being out of control--and actually getting to stoke the engine fires myself. (OK, that takes care of sports and train analogies, which fulfills the minimum cliches requirement for short pieces of rock journalism as specified by the guild.) A Hemeln rick critic covering the show even asked Steve W. the name of the guest guitarist! He said "guitarist," not "bufoonish dilettante!! Those critics are SO gullible. But here's a secret--shhh, don't tell Steve, Linda, Jason or David. They've created a MONSTER. I've tasted rock and I want more! So if you read about an ugly incident of some roadie guy trying to hijack the stage at a rock show in Norway in the next few days, you'll know what happened. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming--I've got a van to unload.

5.24.01: Turnhout

Forget the jokes. We have already exhausted every possibility: how was the turnout in Turnhout? Did you tune up in Turnhout? Tune in, turn on, Turnhout! All good choices and you are welcome to come up with a few of your own. Had a good and loud show in a converted garden that had been covered in some kind of pyramid of glass that made the evening a sweaty and loud event, something combining Phil Spector with Professional Wrestling. Again, you can use your own imagination. Tune in to Turnhout and Sweat It Out. I even met a girl named Anke who claimed to be allergic to her own sweat. No kidding. Got the full report of her camping trips (no sleeping bag, please) and the troubles involved with such things as athletics and visiting Spain in the summer. That kind of night.
It was also the third of three shows with the Silos who are now getting some sleep before leaving for London and then Ireland. We had a great time with them and their shows were fantastic. And sweaty. But now it's time to turn in. Go to sleep, that is. Over and Turnhout!

5.23.01: Leaving Brussels

Another of the many and endless highlights of this Formerly-Never-Ending-But-Soon-To-Be-Actually-Ending Tour. Brussels is always one of my favorite places to play and I even recorded a live album at the city's Ancienne Belgique club a few years ago. But this time we played in the Botanique that is, in fact, an actual botanical garden in the middle of the city. And even though it is only a short walk from the AB club it is worlds apart as the Botanique caters to French population of the city while the AB is geared more toward the Flemish fans. At least that's the story I'm told but the truth is that I saw a lot of familiar faces and old friends and the show was long, intense and frenzied. Strings were breaking, guitars were strewn in all directions and my theory that the messier the stage, the better the show was tested and verified. Earlier in the day we were joined by my good friend Steve Hochman who was sent by his wife Mary as a belated Christmas gift to be our Guest Roadie For a Week. He will be living and traveling and snacking with us for the next six days. He looks pretty healthy and rested in the photo above but check back in six days. I think he'll survive the drives, late nights, loud music and freaky adventures. But I wonder how he'll hold up to the endless barrage of inside jokes. He has been keeping up so far and is getting along quite well with our mascot Art. So I think he'll work out just fine.

5.22.01: The road to Brussels

Had a much-needed day off in Cologne yesterday and our touring party scattered throughout the city to shop, sit in the park, search for cafes or just stayed in the comfort of our various lodging spots to sleep, sleep and then sleep some more. And then we all met up in evening (along with my agent Chris and good friend Ullrich) for a very sophisticated wine and cheese party (see photo of the mysterious party crasher who looked a LOT like Jason). We had been saving up bottles and bottles of wine from all of our various clubs and cities and road-stops and this was a good opportunity to sample the various wares. Highlights were the bottles donated in Italy by our promoter Sandro as well as a sassy little number from Filippo after our show in Tarzo. Now the van is a lot lighter and we are well-rested and ready to begin our last two weeks with a show in Brussels at which we will meet our guest Roadie For A Week, my friend Steve Hochman who is coming in from LA to learn all about sweaty vans, heavy amplifiers, late nights and the touring life in general. We'll go easy on him. Maybe.

5.18.01: Amsterdam

Bad news. My faithful and tireless laptop bit the dust sometime yesterday in Heythiesen and hasn't responded to the usual forms of care and treatment. which could mean the end of this tour's rolling tour diary. even worse is that the old beast is holding hostage an account of the final days in Athens. stories of second shows with many different songs, deejay adventures until 6am at the legendary Decadance club and more details of calamari. But there are always internet cafes. Like this one in Amsterdam where we turned into some kind of holdover from the Fillmore West with a mondo-psychedelic set last night at the Paradiso. Jaap was there. Larry was there. Hammi was there as was Oscar, Andre, Marion, Ron, Marcel and so many other friends. but you'll have to use your imagination as I won't be able to send photos until the end of the tour. But where there is an internet cafe there is a will and, therefore a way. more news to come my faithful readers.

5.14.01: Athens

I know, I know. Everybody tells me that these tour diaries often talk more about food than music and I plead guilty to the charges. But let's face it--along with the exciting music, nice people and unforgettable sights we do have the good fortune to tease our taste buds with some of the most exotic and/or delicious items. And if you ask me or Dave DeCastro for our top ten delicacies of the tour you will find the barbecued octopus from the Mylos club restaurant in Thessaloniki right near the top of the list. lightly grilled, subtly seasoned, full-bodied but not too aggressive--in short, everything you want in a tentacle-bearing main course. I should have taken a picture but, as you can see, other things caught the attention of my camera for today's entry. We just got back to Athens for tonight's show (the second in three nights at the An Club) and had a chance to witness this jam-packed and bustling city from the hotel window. Incredible.
Can't forget the music. And last night's show at Mylos was a good time as it always is in this fantastic club (nice to hang out with John S, Akis and Elektra). The audience was in good spirits as they had just won some big football game the night before (Greek Cup? maybe that was it) and we played right into the celebratory mood with a wild, psychedelic mean and nasty set. Right after we had called our various moms for Mother's Day. In our touring life feedback, frenzy, distortion and noise can easily coexist with recognition of the ones who brought us into the world. Much like late nights and octopus. It all goes together.

5.13.01: Thessaloniki

Another in the continuing series of airport studies. The new airport in Athens opened six weeks ago and is quite the marvel of modern science. Gigantic, very quiet (no announcements) and as shiny and clean and pristine as you could ever want any architectural monstrosity to be. And you can get the most amazing Greek cheese pies at 10 in the morning which is exactly what I did today in my transit haze as we waited for our flight from Athens to Thessaloniki. the haze and fuzz and sleepwalking was earned as we had a long (two and a half hours) and wild show last night at the An Club in Athens. I usually play the Rodon Club in that city but this time I was in the slightly smaller venue (about 500 capacity) and it was packed, sweaty and loud and we just didn't want to stop. four encores, an audience that was nearly as loud as we were and a long, long bit of talking with old and new friends after the show. Tonight we play the Mylos Club here in Thessaloniki and tomorrow night is a late-added second show at the An Club back in Athens. I always enjoy the opportunity to play two nights in the same club during a tour and use the multiple-night format as a chance to vary the set lists as much as possible. With that in mind here is what we played at the first show in Athens:
HERE COME THE MIRACLES SHADES OF BLUE SUSTAIN DROUGHT MY MIDNIGHT STRANGE NEW WORLD SUNSET TO THE SEA DEATH VALLEY RAIN BURN GOOD AND BAD SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA LINE OUT OF THIS WORLD WHATEVER YOU PLEASE CRAWLING MISANTHROPIC BLUES LET'S LEAVE IT LIKE THAT THE SIDE I'LL NEVER SHOW SMASH MYSELF TO BITS THERE WILL COME A DAY

first encore

BABY WE ALL GOTTA GO DOWN HALLOWEEN THAT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS SAY

second encore

MERRITTVILLE SHELLEY'S BLUES PT 2

third encore

BOSTON THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES

fourth encore (!)

WHEN YOU SMILE (solo)

And that leaves a lot of other songs to choose for the second show. Details and anecdotes to follow. but first the Mylos club in Thessaloniki. and, as I remember from my distant sportswriting days 'We only take it one game/day/gig at a time.' sometimes those sports cliches are so useful.

5.12.01: Milan Linate Airport

I know this airport very well and it was no problem to find the central waiting area as I have killed many hours here over the last 15 years. There is the decent magazine area (6 on a scale of 10), surprisingly weak food selection (I mean, this IS Italy after all--4 on a scale of 10), poor phone/internet possibilities (3 out of 10) but great people-watching (one of the more fashionable cities and airports--8 out of 10).
We played in Rimini last night and concluded a fantastic five-city Italian tour with a wild Friday night show that was still ringing in my ears when the wake-up call came at 4am to jolt us out of our hotel rooms and into the lobby for several cappucinos before hitting the road for three hours for this drive to this very airport where we are waiting for our flight to Athens where we play tonight. got all that? I hope so as this is the kind of fuzzy day where I am glad we have a taskmaster such as Carsten to tell us what to do and lead us by the hand to our eventual goal, the stage at Athen's An Club.

Had a chance to hang out last night with my longtime Italian promter Sandro Rissotto who brought four bottles of fine Italian wine which is sitting right now in the back of our van which is being driven to Belgium by the Iron-Man John Parker. Sadly, he will miss out on our Greek journey as SOMEBODY has to take care of the van and the equipment. But he will have a modern Kerouac-esque journey as he finds ways to navigate the German and other roads to his liking, meeting up with old friends, looking for laundry and exploring the open road. If you see him on the highway please honk your horn and give him the thumbs-up.

Let's see--can I give you the update from the airport? Dave is sleeping, Linda is checking her email, Carsten is deeply engrossed in the German newspaper I tracked down for him and I'm typing. Now let's check in with Jason Victor. Jason, what do you think of this airport lounge? "Very very nice. Very accomodating." How would you rank it on a scale of 10. "I'd give it a seven." He adds, "I love everyone. Each and everyone." Wow, that boy needs a nap.

5.11.01: Approaching Rimini

Can't hear the bells but as we get closer and closer to Rimini I can certainly smell the sea air and feel the temperature drop gradually to a refreshingly cool climate. And that is a relief because the tropical weather of the last few days has turned the van into a rolling greenhouse or maybe even a traveling version of the old, failed McDonald's McDLT sandwich. You know, the variation of the Quarter Pounder (or the Burger Royale for you Tarantino fans) with lettuce and tomato that claimed that the 'hot side stays hot and the cold side stays cold.' You remember, right? You don't? Okay, never mind. I promise to never bring it up again.
But as a native of Santa Monica, California and as a person who was born just one mile from the Pacific Ocean I always feel comforted when I get close to water. Maybe it's a Pisces thing, maybe a love for corn dogs. who knows? Maybe even the memory of the incredible fresh seafood dinner the last time we were in Rimini two years ago. But as invigorated as we are right now (good show last night, another visit from Jack Victor complete with a long chat about 19th century baseball, good night's sleep, 57 cappuccinos between us) we will be zombies 12 hours from now when we leave Rimini at 5am to catch our morning flight to Athens. I will crawl from the room to the lobby to the van and then resume whatever dreams I was having of corn dogs and cotton candy. And I will type these dreams in my sleep so that you can read them in real time. Or maybe not.

5.10.01: Leaving Rome

I've played Big Mama's in Rome more times than any other club in the world. I think I've told you that before but I'm telling you again. It's worth repeating as it's strange that this legendary, very cool self-proclaimed 'Home of the Blues' would have played host to my music more times than any club in even my various hometowns of New York and Los Angeles. But it's true. And more than a few attendees last told me it was my best show there ever which is always a good thing to hear. The subterranean, tables-and-chairs, low-ceiling vibe of the club often leads to more ballad-oriented, introspective sets but last night's show found the band charged up and rocking, obviously a result of the long drive that came before. Nothing like eight hours in the van to make you want to let loose and freak out once you have the chance. We had a good time, the audience had a good time and the club gave out complimentary pastries to the crowd at the end of the show. A good night.
And a good night was made even better by the presence of so many friends from back home. There was Brigid (the designer of most of my CD packages) and my good friend Katherine who were both on vacation from New York. And there was my niece Jasmine with her beau, both on extended vacation from the US. Also in the house was Jason's dad Jack who just happened to be in the neighborhood (well, he was working in Geneva and, hey, when you live in New York you can honestly view Switzerland as the general 'neighborhood' of Italy). And also our friend Jules Verdone from Boston. Hey, there were even a few Italians. Good friends Giancarlo and Gianluca were there to join the party as were the wonderful staff of Big Mama's including the legendary owner and founder of the club Marco. Hey, have I named everyone who was in the room last night? Does this sound like an Oscar's acceptance speech? Sorry, but it was that kind of night. And I made sure to document the event with photo after photo. But you won't see any of those photos here as the disc used to document the event turned out to be defective. On the other hand I DO have this photo of our friend Art Garfunkel in front of the Coliseum at 2am. You'll have to imagine the rest.

5.08.01: Driving to Milan

Things are getting silly. Really silly. Jason's 'Seinfeld' impression has spread to the point where it has been adopted and adapted by every member of the touring party and, folks, you just haven't lived until you've heard Carsten Eckermann do an imitation of a New York comedian that he has never actually heard. As we were loading out last night Carsten did his imitation of Jason imitating Jerry Seinfeld, asking 'What's the deal with Steve's amplifier. I mean, there's PLENTY of room and there's NOTHING inside!' Now, anyone who has seen this fine sitcom can easily attach a Frankfurt-inflected German accent to the Jerry S imitation and hilarity will ensue. If that doesn't work for you maybe you'd rather imagine Linda's stuffed sheep (above) who has been renamed Art Garfunkel (the resemblence is uncanny) as it occationally rises from her bag and breaks into a heartfelt rendition of 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' before a sad lament about his estrangement from Paul Simon. That little stuffed guy breaks my heart every time. Yep, we are past the midway mark of this tour and our minds are turning to mush, albeit a colorful and savory mush.
Last night was the first of the five-day Italian tour and everything began on a good note. We played at the Sinatra Lake Club in the small town of Tarzo (near Treviso) and the club was indeed right on the lake, a site almost too pastoral, beautiful, heavenly for a rock show and yet the paradise-like sunset did indeed make a natural transition into the exciting show that ensued. Lots of old friends (including cult singer-songwriter Terry Lee Hale who just happened to be in the area), good food and a Fillmore East-like jam on 'When You Smile' to close the show. Garfunkel and Seinfeld, thankfully, were unavailable for the performance.

5.07.01: Driving across Italy

On a long journey like this (900 miles) you tend to just drive and drive and drive until you can't drive anymore and THAT is where you choose to lay your head, unpack your suitcase and let the van cool down until the next day. And as the midnight hour approached we chose to move beyond Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo and drift across the Italian border to help cut down on the remaining miles to today's show in Tarzo (near Treviso). We began to worry as the first hour was showing no signs of friendly roadside inns or much clue that any others were yet to come down the road. Veteran traveler and navigator Carsten decided that we should take the next exit and venture into the nearest little village. a definite crapshoot as the lights were dim and Sunday at midnight can be a slow time in these parts. But a few pigeon english/italian exchanges with cab drivers and bartenders led us to a hotel called Internazionale (appropriate, right?) where we were greeted with open arms, room keys and eight hours of sleep. And if that wasn't enough we found upon awakening that we were in a seaside wonderland and had no choice but to give ourselves a few minutes to wander the sand, boardwalk and backstreets of what turned out to be Finale Ligure, a hopping little resort town (gotta come back for a holiday someday). Postcards were bought, seashells were gathered, photos were taken (above) and now we're back on the Autopista getting ready to search for new adventures as we begin the Italian tour.

5.06.01: Somewhere in France

Man, I just keep pumping ten franc coins into this machine and I haven't won yet! Frankly (that's a pun--get it? get it? get it?) I am addicted to these French roadside coffee machines (above). Supersweet sugar-infused supercharged cappuccinos that, in fact, DON'T come out of the same spout as the very tasty tomato soup that I pretty much FORCED John and Dave to sample as well. They liked it, I'm pretty sure that they did like it. And during an all-day drive across France (from Bilbao to somewhere in Italy) and with a pocketful of French money to spend these machines take on the allure of out-of-van highlight, a game of How-Much-Caffeine-Can-You-Take-WITHOUT-Bouncing-Off-The-Walls-Of-The-Van. And me? I'm about six francs shy of caffeinated nirvana. Caffeinated Nirvana! The new musical sensation!
Dave, on the other hand has chosen to alter his van universe with the purchase of an ACTUAL SPANISH BOTA, one of those leather wine pouches which he filled up at the SAME FRENCH ROADSIDE STOP and is now teaching us all the wonders of the flying red wine stream. DeCastro is indeed a Spanish name so it only makes sense that he would be good at this art while I ended up missing my mouth entirely and have skipped each round since the first.

We got back from the jam-packed, wild and woolly Bilbao gig at 3am to garner our brief 5 hours of sleep before leaving for the long long trek on this day off (a Toulouse trek? get it? get it? get it?) Carsten provided the morning heroics with the first four hours of driving (a quality start if you're a baseball fan) only to turn over the wheel to John who is now proving to be the bullpen ace (if you are STILL a baseball fan). Linda is handing out potato chips and Jason is keeping us in stitches with his uncanny Jerry Seinfeld imitation (ask him to do it for you the next time you see him). And me? I'm flying high from the 27 shots of coffee that are quickly flowing through my veins. Absolutely JACKED UP ON COFFEE!!! CAN'T YOU TELL?????

5.05.01: The road to Bilbao

It has been a few days since my last diary entry and I could offer a million excuses. Later shows in Spain, some bad luck with internet connections, a broken laptop power supply (since fixed) or even the good fortune to find the bizarre and alluring 'Georgia' (with Jennifer Jason Leigh) on TV last night in english (with Spanish subtitles). But, really, no excuses are necessary because in Spain time is a flexible and relaxed concept. the clock is a gentle suggestion rather than a mandate and deadlines are hardly a literal matter of life and death. Things happen when they happen and once you accept these ideas it is very easy to relax and just wait for events and people and joys and surprises to come your way. And there have been plenty of all of the above.
Madrid, for example. The first show of our Spanish tour took place on a holiday so the streets of Madrid were eerily quiet and driving through the city was a breeze but also like something out of a futuristic science fiction movie. But, as usual, the sun came down and the Spanish nightlife showed it's lively and supercharged colors. We had a frenzied and rocking show (what do you expect after a day off and 1200 miles of driving?) And it was nice to see friends like Tito and Paco from Australian Blonde (along with Paco's girlfriend Nuria) along with our hard-working Spanish promoters Juan and David as well as my Spanish label chief Roberto from Astrodiscos. And then there was Christian who had seen us play in Berlin and just happened to be in Madrid for work so he became the first multi-country visitor of the tour, as far as I know. Christian, your award and gift pack is waiting at the door.

Next day was a short drive to Zaragoza, one of my favorite Spanish cities (okay, they're ALL my favorite Spanish cities. I do love it here). we had a good show at the Casa De Loco (literally 'Crazy House,' and it's always good to take a stop at the crazy house during a tour). Out after the show at a bar where Linda and I managed to persuade the bartender/deejay to stop playing Faith No More/Red Hot Chili Peppers and put on some Sonic Youth and Iggy Pop. the heavens parted, the room got brighter and the drinks tasted better. and then we went to sleep.

Good tourism the next morning in Zaragoza (as demonstrated by Jason, above). and then a slow slow drive deep into the Basque mountains to the small town of Onati (not even on our map) and upon arriving we found it be on of those small villages where you think you have stepped back 300 years in time. After sound check we were whisked away to a rustic country home of one of the promoters where we had an amazing dinner. Chorizo made by the promoter's mother, roasted chicken and potatoes that just screamed 'HOME MADE!' and some of that delicious and deadly cider that is poured from high distances in these parts. all of which made for a great show in front of locals and long-distance travelers alike. and then we made our way back to ANOTHER country home that served as our hotel.

Now we're on our way into Bilbao for a day of shopping and tourism before tonight's show. there you have it. 72 hours condensed into a few minutes. ah, the expansion and contraction of time!

5.02.01: Approaching Madrid

Life is good. We're driving down the Spanish highway and about 100 miles to Madrid. Lee Hazelwood and Nancy Sinatra are singing 'Some Velvet Morning,' we're flying high on super-charged cafe con leche and mixing the caffeine buzz with some chocolate-filled cookies. Which means we'll arrive in Madrid with the potential for a Lee/Nancy/coffee/sugar withdrawl but we'll just find other things to charge us back up again, more coffee and the natural adrenaline rush that is Madrid. The Spanish central city is one of my favorites in the world and I have been lucky enough to spend a lot of time there in the last 12 months due to my collaboration with Australian Blonde on last year's 'Momento' record. More collaborations, more tourism!
Last night we concluded our 1000 mile drive from Munich at my favorite Spanish roadside stop. A large complex with bustling cafeteria (above) where we downed various portions of octopus, fava beans, red wine and other rustic items and then returned to our rooms to watch ACTUAL AMERICAN BASEBALL (tape-delayed Braves vs Diamondbacks). a nice surprise. and the long, exhausting drive folded into a cool, calm night of sleep leaving us ready for the wild shows and late nights and super-high energy that is Madrid. Take a deep breath and ready, set, GO!

5.01.01: Zaragosa

Sitting in this roadside motel room on a rare night off, well-deserved after driving 20 hours from Munich (1000 miles and change) and my reward is dinner in one of my favorite truck stops in the world (grilled squids in tomato sauce!) and the impossible miracle of a Diamondbacks/Braves baseball game on TV. Can life get any better? well, of course and the soundtrack of 60s soul singer PP Arnold rocking out versions of 'God Only Knows' only adds to the wonder and leisure. Yes, it was quite a journey and various van travel naps were punctuated by a 5am stop near Freiburg (hot chocolate and mentos) or the 9am French stop near Lyon (above photo--quiche, cappuchino and other items) or maybe even the rain soaked tapas and almonds treats near the Spanish/French border. I don't know, it's all a blur and all toasts and kudos go out to Carsten and John who did all the driving so we could sit in the back and sleep, tell jokes and listen to Dylan's 'Time Out of Mind' while the rain came down outside the window of our tireless white van. Tomorrow the Spanish tour begins and the drives get shorter. but for now it's the seventh inning and it's time to change the CD.

4.30.01: The road to Munich

We switched vans last night after the Frankfurt show, changing the sleek but relatively tiny black van for this much larger white nine-passenger model that will house us for the rest of the tour. The changeover came at a good time as we are in the midst of a five-hour drive to Munich that will be followed by tonight's show and then an immediate departure for a 1200-mile overnight drive to Madrid. Overnight drives are a definite rite of passage for the touring musician and feature groggy sleep, dead-fly strewn windshield sunrises and fuzzy, dream-state wanderings around gas station convenience stores at 5am. But this van will allow more room and comfort for the tough task ahead. And all of our various animal mascots (cats, ducks, kinder toys, Carsten's mystery animal) are in place so we are well protected.
Last night's show was the penultimate Germany gig but it felt like the closing credits to a successful German tour as we were joined by many friends from other points of the tour. There was Blue Rose's Edgar Heckmann and my agent Chris Jaeker from JTC. And journalist/stealth recording genius Ullrich Maurer, fan/gig tapers Steffan, Wolfgang and Andreas. And then there was Christoph and Ingrid, the latter who brought an incredible folk art sculpture she had made and donated to the tour. It looked great on stage and provided the most elaborate set design of the tour. All of these people had been to at least two or three shows and are now enshrined in the Rolling Miracles Hall of Fame.

But a special wing in the Multiple Miles Awards Section definitely goes to Steve and Laurie Price who flew all the way out from California to celebrate Steve's 40th birthday on the road with us. They had been to shows in Heilbronn, Nurnberg and Tubingen and last night's show was the last stop on the journey. They will probably see us again next July in Hollywood, only a 30-minute drive from their house but those miles are most certainly applicable to bonus prizes and statistical awards down the line.

Auf wiedersehen Germany, Hola Espana.

4.29.01: Leaving Affalter

Yes, I know 'the road' (as we affectionately like to call it) suggests diesel fumes and smoky clubs and late-night bars and hard, gritty city landscapes. And that's why I chose the grounds outside of our hotel in Affalter for this first official Team Photo. Open fields, lakes, horses and sheep (much like the one I had for dinner last night--sorry, Jason) as far as the eye can see provide the vista in this former East German town and even though The Wall has been down for 12 years there is still the feeling that we are entering a new, fresh and somewhat virgin territory every time we come to a place like this. The audience, most of whom never had the chance to buy records or see shows by such bands as, for example, the Dream Syndicate are making up for lost time and the conversations and questions and answers that follow the show are often as much a part of the evening as the music that comes before.
And what about the music that came before? Well, I believe we had a good set but we had to work pretty hard to live up to standards set by our surprise opening act, a guy from New Jersey named Dave DeCastro. yep, it seems that the solo CDs that Dave brought over on the previous tour (pick one up when you come to our shows) became a favorite of our promoter Thomas and he specifically requested that Dave open the show with three solo acoustic songs. He was great and has already been offered a tour of his own. go Dave!

And as the evening was kind of a cultural exchange of sorts there was also the very unusual phenomenon of on-stage interviews before Dave's set, much like something out of the Grand Old Opry. We each were hit with a few questions, some of which follow:

INTERVIEWER: Jason, how did you get the job of guitarist in the Steve Wynn Band?
JASON: I paid him a lot of money.

INTERVIEWER: Linda, is it hard to be on the road with three men.
LINDA: yes

INTERVIEWER: Dave, do you have another job at home
DAVE: yes, I work in an ice-cream parlor (he doesn't)
INTERVIEWER: Okay, now. TELL THE TRUTH!

INTERVIEWER: Steve, why did you make your album in Tucson, Arizona
ME: Good Mexican food.

Funny guys, right? Hmmm, maybe we should stick to music.

4.28.01: Leaving Langenau

Right now we're in the midst of a five-hour drive and listening to a live Modern Lovers CD that Carsten bought a few days ago. It features the original lineup and is as punk rock as any record I've ever heard. Not just the slashing guitar and drones and repetition and monotones and distorted organ but especially the lyrics. I mean this was 1972 and Jonathan Richman was singing about loving parents and the old world and health food and finding a girl he could care about while proudly declaring he was straight (i.e. drugs as opposed to sexuality). Certainly more bold than most of what followed and it still sounds amazing today. Maybe we'll have to cover one of these songs tonight.
Ah, covers. I have so many songs that I want to cover but we also keep learning more of my own back catalogue with each show so the list of tunes to learn gets longer and longer. We have been working up a variety of Bob Dylan covers as we get ready for our late May show in Hameln when we will cele brate Zimmy's 60th birthday with an endless encore slew of Dylan songs. You have been warned/promised.

I have a theory that the messier we leave the stage the better the show and last night's show in Langenau concluded with tangled cords, torn and scattered set lists and all of the guitar (Dave's included) left on the stage screaming out a beautiful cacophony of feedback as we returned to our dressing room. the guitars were still singing to us long after we had been holding them. and they sounded great! Maybe tonight we'll just let them do the show on their own.

4.27.01: Nurnberg

Sitting in this parking garage and guarding the van while the others search variously for sweat pants, french fries, CDs and especially internet cafes. I am the lone laptop bearer on this tour and find myself hunting down phone lines or modular phone jacks like some seashell-scavenger on a lonely beach (note: insert sound of seagulls here. thanks) But the others have to locate internet cafes to check email and send various missives around the world and we have found that Germany is a little shy on such places. Really, if you want to make a million bucks (or at least a million lira) I recommend opening an internet cafe in Germany and you'll maintain a thriving business from my touring parties alone. In the meantime I'm happy to be inside this black van (above, and soon to change to a bigger white van) typing and listening to Johnny Cash while John 'Coach' Parker sits in the front seat writing postcards. And besides, I have already found some tasty french fries which a very heavy garlic sauce and alone is where I should be after such heavy intake of the stinking rose.
Played a long (25 songs, I think--including the debut of our retooled and organ-ified version of 'Halloween') and sweaty set here last night at the K4, a fine cultural center where I have played many times before. I'm sure we could have wrung out our stage clothes after the set and found enough water to end the California drought for generations to come. NOT that anyone really wants to ponder or explore such an image. But now it's time to enjoy some more of the Man In Black while I pick up today's Herald Tribune and check out some baseball statistics. Hey guys, take your time.

4.25.01: Heilbronn

How long has it been? One day? Well, we've got a lot of catching up to do. I could tell you about Tubingen's Parterre club hosted by Dutch expatriate Cees who offered us dark beers and sweet ice cream throughout the evening. Or I could tell you about Steve and Laurie Price who came out from Los Angeles to celebrate Steve's 40th birthday and will part of our touring adventures until Sunday. Or about the Wednesday morning record shopping bonanza that found all of us dumping spare DMs on various cds (King Crimson, Archies, Art Blakey, Zombies, Johnny Cash, Townes Van Zandt, CCR, Joe Cocker, Lou Reed between the various touring party--can you guess WHO bought WHAT?) And I can talk about the intimate coffee-house vibe of the Tubingen show or the more frenzied, sweaty rock show that just happened hours ago in Heilbronn. Heck I could even give a shout-out to the legendary Edgar Heckmann, King of Blue Rose Records who hosted tonight's event in Heilbronn and is promising cheesecake tomorrow at his office. I could talk about any of that but instead I will focus on the run of bad videos that have just passed on MTV. Dido, Fear Factory. Both pretty bad. And I have got to turn off the TV before they show that ridiculous Limp Bizkit video (keep bowling, bowling, bowling, bowling--jeez!) one more time. But in the meantime I"ll leave you with this photo of Dave from the town square in Tubingen. If you've never had a chance to visit this fine city I recommend an immediate visit. Drop by the Parterre and tell Cees I sent you.

4.24.01: Leaving Koln

We had one of the few actual full-on 100% days off of this tour yesterday in Koln (Cologne to our readers around the world) and we did what all true Americans like to do with a day of leisure: GO BOWLING! yes, all of us (except for Carsten who actually lives in Koln and had other things to do than try to knock over white pins all night) joined up with Thomas, Steffan and Christian from my publicity company Volume 11 and also our Koln host Hammi (above and whose house we were staying at for a couple of days) and his roommate Steffie. Yes, ten of us took over the suburban bowling alley and must have appeared to the sedate little scene like something out of 'A Clockwork Orange.' Dave commented as we walked in the door 'Oh my God, we're in Paramus' which is to say that once you cross the doors of a bowling alley you could as easily be in New Jersey as Germany. Bowling alleys are bowling alleys and outside of mentally calculating the differences in shoe sizes (I'm a 43) this was a prototypical bowling alley.
Oh, but not so fast. As we settled into our two lanes and prepared for a night of intense competition we found that these lanes were a little different from your average setup in, say, Paramus. The automatic pinsetters were a little bit messed up and were randomly raining individual pins on top of other pins, across the lanes and in the way of oncoming balls. Upon approaching the lane there would be ten pins, upon releasing the ball two more would drop down and by the time the ball reached the pins three more would have fallen from the impact of the two that had dropped before. hey, this could be a brand new variation on a game that we all thought we knew so well and we decided to augment the game even further by bringing new meaning to the concept of 'follow-through' and actually ended up chasing the balls halfway down the lane until Thomas finally decided to take the full length of the alley and slide feet-first into the actual pins. a good idea (for high score) and good entertainment (we all laughed) but a little rough when the wooden pin-clearer landed with full force on his leg. I'm sure he's a little sore today.

But everyone had fun except for the woman who was in charge and she came over a few times to mildly scold us, saying 'DAS IST UNNORMAL!' (this isn't normal) which was, of course true but no less normal,or no more unnormal than a steady random downpour of pins so we didn't feel all that bad. Linda won the first game (107) and I won the second at 139 but I'm not sure how many of the pins were actually knocked down by me and how many by the other pins.

We got back to Hammi's wonderful apartment (thank you Hammi!) and talked about the slightly unusual events at the bowling alley and he said "Oh, but the other bowling alley is even stranger. At 11pm every night it turns into Strip Bowling." Hmmm, I think I'll stick with randomly dropping pins, thank you.

4.22.01: Bochum

You are here. Backstage in Bochum and I'll be happy to fill you in on all of the activities as they happen. Linda is onstage hitting a snare drum over and over again as Carsten finds the right frequencies for what will be the sonic meter for our evening of musical joy. Next, I imagine, will be the floor tom and then the raised tom. I am down the long table from the deli tray (see photo) and keeping my hands on the typewriter keys so I won't rush over and devour the contents, thus spoiling the dinner that is coming in about 30 minutes. John Parker is setting up the merch booth for the evening. Jason was working on his guitars but I don't know where he is now and Dave, who was looking over my shoulder has become bored (why?) with watching me type. You can probably get a good idea of the various contents of the deli tray from the photo but I can assure you that tonight's selections of cheeses and cookies are especially interesting. From a distance, of course. And even though I am about to stop typing I will still be able to get up and walk past each of the items, barely giving them a second glance as I walk to the stage, plug in my guitar and hit the strings for the first time this evening. Oh, but that swiss cheese sure looks good.

4.21.01: Approaching Wesel

Well, when you play 52 shows in a tour and average about 100 a year for 20 years you're going to get some wild and unpredictable nights. In fact, I think that a night that is NOT wild and unpredictable is the exception to the rule making it even MORE wild and unpredictable if you follow my logic. You do follow my logic, don't you? Okay, then let's proceed.
The Relax club in Ludwigsfelde is in the middle of a teachers' university compound about 25 miles from Berlin in what was formerly East Germany. The whole setup feels like some kind of woodsy summer camp complete with farm animals, trees and very uniform architecture. The venue itself felt like the extension of the student cafeteria that,in fact, it turned out to be. To be honest, I had my doubts during sound check but by the time we hit the stage at 10pm the room was filled with students, teachers, student teachers and teachers' students (along with some friends and fans who had traveled from other cities). It was Friday night in Ludwigsfelde and the town was ready to party. And we certainly obliged, filling the sets (two for this evening) with the rowdier and more groove-oriented material and before too long the entire length of the front of the stage was taken over by dancing women (ALL women! the men stayed meekly behind) and as they had more time to visit and revisit the bar things got more and more out of control (note: out of control is GOOD). By the end the whole scene reminded me of something out of my college days and I can only imagine that the whole party is still raging today, 14 hours after the last note was played. Either that or the freely flowing tequila sunrises left many of the patrons grabbing their throbbing heads and reaching for the Excedrin today.

We can only speculate, of course, because Ludwigsfeld is hours behind us as we roll down the autobahn (fun fun fun!) listening to Mushroom, the Continental Drifters and Rowland Howard, the first two of which have been previously tour managed by Carsten (above, pictured with John Parker) who sits in the front seat reading a magazine about trains. He has been looking for hours at picture after picture of trains, old and new and I can only imagine what he's thinking. I wonder if he reads about vans while he's riding on trains. I'll have to ask.

4.19.01: Leaving Munster

I gave up sugar yesterday. For about 2 hours. It was pretty rough but I think I showed a great sense of discipline. Seriously (and sugar IS serious business) we are traveling with a van full of cookies (courtesy of my friend Kris who is--get this!--a professional cookie taster at the Lu's factory) and have been greeted at every show with a backstage full of sweets. No complaints, I LOVE the stuff but at some point during yesterday's van ride I felt like a Tex Avery cartoon character with blood pumping, eyes bugging out and a head about to explode. Figured it was time to take a little break from the cookie train. But then we got the the Gleiss 22 in Munster and found trays of chocolate, marzipan, wafers and toffee and, well, that was that. As my fellow Angeleno Perry Farrell once said "I'm gonna kick tomorrow."
But in the meantime, the manic thrills of the sweets and the schizo weather (it's sunny! it's hailing! it's sunny! it's raining!) gave birth to a dynamic set of wild rockers (The Angels, Smash Myself to Bits, Death Valley Rain) and soothing little hypnotic ballads (Charity, Morningside Heights). good audience (including longtime friends like Hammi and Nicole) that brought us back for a few encores but not before we had time to sneak backstage and replenish our blood sugar with a few more bits of chocolate and other sweets. There you have it. Our own Rock and Roll Babylon.

4.18.01: The road to Munster

The rain continues to fall on the autobahn as our rolling caravan version of Noah's Ark continues under the alias of our Spring tour. The soundtrack to the rough weather is 'Curtains For You' by the Only Ones from a tape that was given to us last night by Robbie, the drummer for the Nicki Sudden Band. Really cool guy and an absolutely quintessential rock and roll DUDE in the grand tradition of Sudden, Dave Kusworth and all of that crowd. He made this tape for us at 5am on the morning between our two shows at the Trompete Club. what a guy!
Played two sets in each of the two nights in Berlin. Pretty much played the shorter, more hook-laden fare in the first sets and got freakier and darker in the second. Unveiled the first performances of 'Smash Myself to Bits' and it's already looking like an elastic setting for some free-form freakouts in the tradition of 'John Coltrane Stereo Blues' and, more accurately, 'East West' by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. guitar, organ, harmonica, noise, squonk--a really wonderful freakout and the kind of song that leads us around rather than the other way around.

Linda's reading MOJO, Carsten is checking out the Frankfurt daily paper, John is battling the rain from his driver's perch while Jason and Dave are napping. I think I will throw my vote into the latter camp.

4.16.01: Leaving Copenhagen

Man, THAT was fun. A really exciting Easter Sunday show at the Vega club in Copenhagen with the band firing on all cylinders and the live debut of 'Let's Leave it Like That' on which I used my new Shure Green Bullet mic which makes me look AND sound like a taxi dispatcher. Or like I'm handling the drive-through window at Burger King. Either way, it's my favorite new toy and I pretty much want to just carry it around to use for ALL conversations at ALL time. There's nothing like a distorted vocal for authenticity--authentic WHAT, I don't know but authentic nonetheless.
But I digress. I was happy to see so many loyal fans turning out on the holiday weekend and even had a chance to hang out with our patron saint of the website, Mr Thomas Mejer Hansen. He said he 'couldn't stop smiling' during the show. I said, 'What, you couldn't stop smiling? Am I funny to you? Funny how? Funny like a clown? ' Oops, sorry I just turned into Joe Pesci in 'Goodfellas' for a second. Don't know how that happened. Must have been the herring.

4.15.01: Approaching Denmark

Last night was the first show of the tour and only the second overall for this current lineup. Dave met us at the Hamburg Airport at 11am Saturday morning and now, to paraphrase Sister Sledge 'We Are Family.' Upon arriving at the venue in Schwerin we pulled all of the gear out of the van for the first time and had the usual Christmas-like thrill of finding all the items that were left behind at the end of the last tour. Various extension cords, junction boxes, strings and lots of broken things that resembled nothing of use but would still be stashed into a plastic bag, shoved under a van seat in order to be left behind at the end of the tour and mused over by future touring parties. Much like time capsules left behind for future generations. I mean, what will be more puzzling in the 23rd Century: videotapes of 'Three's Company' or a bag of broken guitar straps? this is NOT a rhetorical question but rather an essay assignment for all you reading this out there.
Sorry, I had too much sugar this morning.

Anyway, the first show went off without a hitch. We played new songs, old songs and culminated in a frenzied sweaty unhinged version of 'The Days of Wine and Roses' for which Jason was later dubbed 'Freaky Jason' by an enthusiastic fan. Carsten conquered the sonic challenges of the cavernous room and John set up quite the attractive record store in the lobby. Jason (a vegetarian as well as a freak) gave me all of his hamburger at dinner. Like I say, without a hitch.

And now we are on our way to Copenhagen. the sounds you hear is the new Kinks BBC Sessions compilation and the most notable sight is Linda's all-orange outfit that is providing a fine imitation of sunlight on this dreary day.

4.12.01: Herentals

If you're planning on a late-night drive from Amsterdam to Herentals (Belgium) may I take the liberty of recommending that you play 'Gonzalez Uber Alles,' the fine album by Chilly Gonzalez sometime as you approach the Holland/Belgium border. We tried it and it made the three-hour drive go by like nobody's business. Unfortunately we followed it with the new Nick Cave album which seems a little silly on the first listening. Songs about letting the nurse go home early for the weekend and God being in the house (and quiet as a mouse, no less). Hey, he's one of my favorites so I'll give it a few listens but I'm a little concerned for this new Very Adult Nick. In the house indeed.
But now it's 4am and we're watching the BBC news and drinking some Duvel, the miracle elixer that is made right here in this fine country. GREAT beer and just the way to celebrate after a really successful live radio broadcast at Amsterdam's VPRO studios. Jason, Linda and I played rearranged versions of 'Morningside Heights,''Southern California Line,""There Will Come a Day," "Crawling Misanthropic Blues" and "The Angels." Photo credit goes out to our friend Andre Hansen who showed up with his wife Marion and we were also happy to see good friends like Oscar Smit and Glenn Mindermann. And--get out those pens!--you can check out the show at www.3voor12.vpro.nl at least I think you can. I would check it out right now but I have a Duvel to finish and some soccer highlights to watch.

4.11.01: Amsterdam

Well, the first mini-tour prelude to the much longer tour ended Monday night when we finished our Regensburg gig at 11pm and then brought Tito to the train station for a 12:26am overnight train to the Dusseldorf airport. Sad goodbyes were exchanged and we loaded him up with junk food (the traditional rock and roll send-off, didn't you know?) and then got some sleep before yesterday's ten-hour drive to Amsterdam. It all feels like an update of the old Agatha Christie mystery and, indeed, THEN there were three. Linda, Jason and I will spend the next few days with a VPRO radio taping here in Amsterdam and then a TV show in Leuven before tossing a Hollywood Happy Ending of ms. Christie's book by actually INCREASING our ranks to six by this Saturday when the next round of concerts begin. Get out your notepads, scorecards, #2 pencils and heavy erasers as we will be getting our new tour manager (Carsten), driver/CD salesman (John) and of course the wonderful, legendary, pride of New Jersey bass player Dave DeCastro in the coming 72 hours. But first there is a matter of tourism and radio wave takeover to undertake.

4.06.01: The Road to Innsbruck

The topic, as it so often is these days, is Mad Cow. There are few things more fascinating that unwittingly cannibalistic bovine and the effect/revenge they have on those who would eat them. Jason (staunch vegetarian) is gloating over his invincibility to the plague while Tito and I feign bravery and wonder if we will be able to find a good steak before this drive is over. My new motto is 'The Madder the Better!' Okay, okay, I"m just kidding and am actually avoiding all red meat against the faint cries of my deprived taste buds. Nonetheless we are discussing if hot dogs actually contain ANYTHING resembling meat. Even Jason feels that the average wiener may be a safe bet for his dining pleasure.
In the meantime we are considering gnawing on our own arms as we sit in one traffic jam after another on this trip from Cologne to Innsbruck. It's a night off and we'll just try to get past Munich and find a hotel before finishing the drive tomorrow. I am certainly mellowing (in some ways) as the tours progress as I used to be of the school of 'Drive Until You Drop and Reach Your Destination NO MATTER WHAT!' Now, I have pity on my fellow travelers and figure a diet of Red Bull, vitamins and gas station coffee may NOT actually be the best way to sustain a nine-week tour.

We're doing this initial week of the tour without a Tour Manager or Merch salesman (you'll meet them next week, all in due time) and the four of us are hitting the clubs cowboy style in our mini-van (with a CD-player--currently playing Curtis Mayfield) and guitars/snare drum (the rest provided by each club). Did I really include three parentheses in the last sentence? Truly the sign of someone of someone who either needs to stop for the night quite soon OR the oncoming effects of some kind of wacky steak steamrolling through my system. or both! Waiter, bring me the tofu.

4.05.01: Cologne

Hey, it's been a while, hasn't it? No tour diary and, in fact, no tours of any length since 1999. Have I gotten rusty, has my road-prose turn to mush? Can I remember things that happened yesterday, last night, five minutes ago? Time will tell but I do know that we are sitting in a hotel in Cologne right now basking in the fun that was last night's WDR-TV taping that we did last night at the Subway Club. First show of the tour and the first of four shows with our Substitute Bass Player of the Week, Mr Tito Valdes.
Yes, it's hard to know the players without a scorecard. Well, there's me and there's Linda. The holdovers, the greybeards, the grizzled veterans. Well, Linda is neither bearded nor grizzled but I DID forgo shaving this morning so I'll pick up the scruffy slack. But our new guitarist Jason Victor has stepped in to replace the wildly busy Chris Brokaw (five new records this year, dear readers!) and Tito Valdes, my bandmate from Spain on the 'Momento' project, has ably stepped up to the plate to keep the stage warm while Dave DeCastro plays the final Health and Happiness Show (his band of many years) gig in New York this weekend. Dave returns next week.

Got all that so far? So last night was the first show with Tito and the second with Jason (one other gig at New York City's Village Underground in March) and the band played like we had been together much longer than the 28 hours that was the true reality (see first night rehearsal photo). And now we're on our way to Innsbruck. I could tell you that we'll be joined by a NEW tour manager Carsten Eckermann and a new driver/merch salesman John Parker next week but I just don't want to confuse you. well not yet anyway. stay tuned.

2.24.01: Flying to London

--Now let's see. Where did we leave off?
Time moves much more quickly on the road than it does at home. The last missive was sent not quite two weeks ago as I sat on a train to Cologne and now I'm on this Virgin Express (unpaid plug--I just recently discovered and quite dig this airline) flight to London, looking out on the clouds and into my internal rear-view mirror to see what went down in the last 13 days. If this seems like a laundry-list, name-dropping, awards show type memorandum of 'if not for's and 'thank you's, well you can blame the fact that I'm still bummed over missing the Elton John-Eminem duet at the Grammy's. I would have BET that it would have been carried live on some cable channel or another in Copenhagen. no such luck.

There were train trips all over Germany, sharing fabulously heavy traditional meals with the likes of Blue Rose kingpin Edgar Heckman and his wonderful family. He played me the last Ryan Adams album well after midnight one evening and with combination of the late hour and the Weisen Beers and the fine company it seemed like the best album I ever heard, at least for that moment. There were various meals with radio pals like Jorg Feyer and Helmut Heilmann in Hamburg and Berlin, variously. There was the discover that maybe, just maybe Chinese food in the suburbs of Frankfurt is a bad idea. And, of course, Cologne where I shared beers, plans and NO mad cow with agent Chris Jaeker, publicists Thomas and Christian and Stephan at Volume 11 and eccentric home-recording wizard Rich Mason.

Fittingly enough the train travel ended with a train strike that stranded me at the Swiss/Italian border for three hours giving me some time to check out the fine town of Chiasso. If you are ever stuck there between trains I recommend the free coffee at the BP station and the very efficient luggage lockers at the station. a five-star affair! Two days in Italy followed and I enjoyed the wonderful feeling of having a record that is getting quite a bit of attention and praise in that country. Celebratory pasta, calamari, red wine and espressos were were had with publicists Camilla and Valerie and old friends like Alessandro, Gianluca and yet another Alessandro. Left on the 21st, my birthday and a marathon travel day that left me in Copenhagen at 11pm. a beer, some sleep, the aforementioned lack of Awards programs and then I woke up for coffee with our hero Thomas Mejor Hansen (who founded, maintains and is the patron saint of the website you are now visiting) who has moved to this big and wonderful city. It was great to see him and he brought me to the ferry to Sweden, a fast and exhilarating 45-minute ride. Recommended for all visiting tourists.

And finally there was Malmo. The town was all abuzz at the presence of the national runoffs for the Swedish entry to the Eurovision song competition. Hey, who needs the Grammys? this is BIG stuff over here and the media and biz was out in full force to pick the hookiest of hookiest. I, in the meantime discovered and did an in-store at the incredible record store Musik and Konst (greetings to Leonard, Martin and Peter) and showed nearly impossible self-restraint by buying only TWO cds, a compilation of New Orleans 'funk' recorded between 1960 and 1975 and the fourth in the series of the Soul Jazz Dynamite reggae series. In yet another unpaid plug (and this column has many) may I recommend nearly every release on the UK's Soul Jazz records? great label. Finally there was dinner and after-dinner drinks, the former only one table away from the son of Abba's Benny Anderson and the latter in the company of the talented and charming Michael Blair who played drums and percussion with Tom Waits, Elvis Costello and Lou Reed. nice guy and we compared notes and lists of people we knew. He works in Sweden's publishing and producing industry and seems to want to recruit me into the world of writing songs for boy groups. why not? Oh, and to build the name quotient a special thanks to Liza and Morten at MNW Records.

All in all a very enjoyable two weeks. I'm very happy to see that the new album is being so well-received and I have already received letters from many of you who say it's the best album I"ve done and I'm not about to argue. I heard that Shelby Lynne won the Grammy for Best New Artist after a 12-year, six-album career so, hey, you never know.

2.12.01: Train To Brussels

And now as I sit on this train from Antwerp to Brussels and then to Koln I am able to look back on a wild and satisfying week in Belgium and Holland. It was all of the usual promo trip stuff--interviews, in-store performances, new food, no sleep--but the brand new experience was my first appearance on a National TV talk show. De Latsteshow is (for our American readers) a hybrid of the Letterman/Leno show and Politically Incorrect. Guests come out and are grilled by the obviously witty and acerbic host Bruno (well, I couldn't understand what he was saying, naturally, but he had this VIBE) and then sit together on the couch and trade views. Sadly, I couldn't participate in the latter experience as my Flemish begins and ends with food, beer and various pleasantries. I don't think that 'One beer and some chicken, thank you very much' 'would have really held up in a discussion with the leader of the Flemish labor party and the coach of the Antwerp basketball team (who had just been involved in an internationally covered bench-clearing brawl with Belgrade the night before). So I was isolated from those other guests for my ten-minute interview portion.
But, of course, music is the international language and I was able to experience another first, my first time being backed by one of those super-hot late night talk show bands. And the DeLatsteshow band was certainly up to the task, having even learned Arlo Guthrie's 'Coming Into Los Angeles' for the theme for my entrance to the show--I'm TELLING you, this was a bonafide State of the Art talk show. The very amiable band leader Patrick (with whom I had actually shared a bill in Amsterdam seven years ago, small world that we are in) had chosen 'Morningside Heights,' a gentle doo-wop influenced ballad (though he compared it to the Beach Boys) for my performance and the band had done their homework. It wouldn't be enough to say it was the best live version ever of the song as it was the FIRST live version ever of the song. So I will just say that my band will have a lot to live up to top the performance on the coming tour (not that they'll have any trouble--heck, they could be a talk-show band of their own). Funny feeling to be playing one of my songs on TV with complete strangers, much like a dream and actually I kept thinking I was playing a cover rather than one of my songs.

The show was taped at 6pm for broadcast later in the evening and after brief handshakes with the politician and basketball coach and a glass of wine with the band I hurried back to my hotel with label chief Wim Konings, his girlfriend Kris and the legendary Jaap Bos to catch the whole thing on TV. Thankfully, it appeared the dubbing crew had done a good job of keeping up with my fast-paced interview and I enjoyed the surreal experience of watching myself do the very thing that I have seen Julia Roberts, Al Gore, Orson Bean, David Brenner, Travis Tritt and Suzanne Somers do in the past. a talk-show host guest! big thrill. watch out Paul Schaffer, here I come.

But first I had better keep my eyes open for the Brussels Midi station. One step at a time, after all

1.29.01: Cadiz

I am in Spain (Cadiz to be exact) watching the Super Bowl at 3am. Muni, the wonderful wife of Australian Blonde guitarist Paco Loco and guest vocalist on the 'Momento' album greeted us after a long drive from Madrid with Mexican food and red wine. She is a fantastic cook and the various dishes of cochinita pibil, marinated pork,chicken, guacamole and fresh tortillas were the best I have ever had on this side of the Atlantic. The food definitely made up for the poor showing of the New York Giants who are getting slaughtered as I type these words though the Aerosmith/N'Sync/Brittany/Mary J Blige quartet was appropriately bizarre.

My new album 'Here Come the Miracles' comes out today in Germany (slightly later in the rest of Europe, a few moths from now in the US) and I am very excited. I have always loved double albums. In fact, on the drive down I was listening to the remastered 'All Things Must Pass' by George Harrison (a great album and well worth rediscovering) and records like 'London Calling,' 'Exile On Main Street,' 'Daydream Nation,' 'The White Album' and 'Sign O' the Times' have always delighted me with their sprawl, whimsy, variety, zig-zagging journeys and ambition. I've always wanted to make such a monster for myself and now I finally have. 19 songs, 82 minutes and a wild, panoramic freak-show. I hope you all dig it. But tonight I put aside such issues as I begin a four-city tour with Australian Blonde in the continuing Spanish vacation (a.k.a. the promotion for 'Momento') that I am enjoying. This is our third tour here in the last six months and my Spanish is improving though I have NO idea what the Super Bowl announcers are saying. I just know the Giants are being killed and I'm going to sleep.

1.22.01: New York City

Just saw "Traffic", the incredible new movie by Steven Soderburgh and in a pretty week year for movies it is easily my favorite. 1999 had been my favorite year for movies in a long time and I found it tough to narrow the great films down to a top ten list but until I saw "Traffic" I thought that 2000 would come and go without a single GREAT movie. There were, however, some pretty good ones and for all of you who love LISTS here are my five favorite movies of the year:
1. TRAFFIC
2. GHOST DOG; THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI
3. ALMOST FAMOUS
4. WONDER BOYS
5. BEST IN SHOW
Hey, those were pretty good movies but nothing like "Being John Malkovich", "Election", "Rushmore", "Three Kings", "American Beauty", "Boys Don't Cry", "The Limey", "The Insider" and the seemingly endless supply of movies that were memorable, daring and even commercial in the previous year. But even with that bit of griping I fully recommend "Traffic". Well-directed, acted, written and very innovative, creative and even politically important. And I am yet one more person singing the praises of Benicio Del Toro though I had even more blown away by him in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas."

But enough movies for now. This week I will board a plane and travel to Europe where I will do a few shows in Spain with Australian Blonde and then do my best to spread the word about "Here Come the Miracles" in Germany, Belgium, Holland, Norway, Italy, Greece and the UK. I hope they ask about movies.

1.15.01: New York City

Well, the last installment of my Singles of the Month series went up on the Emusic website a few days ago and I feel a combination of relief and sadness as this one-year experiment comes to a close. It was definitely a challenge to come up with one completely new (well, I cheated in October) song and performance every month in the midst of recording two new albums and touring Europe and Japan. On the other hand, I've always had fantasies about the deadlines and demands of the early 60s pop music scene of the Brill Building and this adventure gave me the chance to work with such talented people as Barbara Manning, Eric Ambel, Richard Lloyd, Johnette Napolitano, James Mastro, Polar, The Fleshtones and naturally the members of my own band.

I don't think the 21st Century will see the end of cds or vinyl or record stores but I do think that more and more people will begin to discover and listen to music via the internet and this is very exciting as it means that people's listening tastes and habits won't be limited by the things that the local record store chooses to stock or the local rock press chooses to cover. A vast world of music lies in those phone lines and the amount of music that a person can track down will only be limited by time, sense of adventure and savvy with the roads of the internet. Also, I think it will give musicians a chance to be more spontaneous (as I found with the Singles series) and have more immediate access to fans. It's also exciting that musicians will be able to record and write together via the internet as I did with Australian Blonde for the "Momento" album. But while computers are great and most of us spend more time staring at the little screens than we would have ever imagined a few years ago there is also no substitute for a dark, sweaty rock club and actual live music and I'm getting ready to leave for my first shows of the year in Spain where I'll be doing four gigs with Australian Blonde for "Momento". Not only am I really proud of this album but it has also given me a chance to spend more time in one of my favorite countries in the world. And my Spanish is improving though I still have a long way to go. This album will be coming out in the rest of the world sometime next Fall but first up is "Here Come the Miracles" which will be out in Europe in early February. If 2000 was my year of the bedroom studio, notepad, collaboration and computer it looks like 2001 will be the year of suitcases, van travel and LIVE MUSIC. I'll be coming to your town and helping you to, uh, party it down as Grand Funk Railroad once said. Hey, you don't want to rely on Bill Gates and Steve Case for ALL of your inspiration.

1.07.01: New York City

This is Sunday in New York. You read the paper working your way from the headiest of news items to the tiniest of sports box scores. No comics, the New York Times doesn't believe in comics and the withdrawal from Doonesbury was one of the hardest things about moving to this city and making the adjustment from the Times of LA to the TImes of NYC. Maybe a walk down Broadway, zig-zagging across the softer bits of snow and paved sidewalk, avoiding the patches of ice that test even the deepest tread on the best boots. A stop into the mega-chain bookstore (they hardly need my endorsement) where every interesting magazine is skimmed and scanned and back to the apartment to watch the improbable New York Giants hold off the Philadelphia Eagles and advance to the NFC finals. Things are indeed looking up. A friend begs out of a plan to see a movie ("You Can Count On Me"--I've heard it's good and will have to see it later) and it looks like a night of exploring the virtues of the People's Choice Awards, certainly not the best awards show but when you have a bizarre fetish for awards shows sometimes ANY awards show will do.

That is Sunday in New York. At least that is this particular Sunday as I know that most Sundays this year will be spent anywhere but here. With a new record coming out in a few weeks it looks like a year in which Sundays will be spent everywhere from Atlanta to Bergen to Essen to Wolverhampton to Reggio Emilia. And that's good news. I spent the last year with less touring than usual, wanting to woodshed and concentrate on writing and experimenting with new sounds and ideas and reinforcing old ones as well. I rediscovered the joys of my adopted city and spent time with friends. All good things but I find myself itching to pick up my guitar every night and spending time on stage with good friends tempting and teasing the Gods of music to see just how far and in what directions and with what limits the sound and notes can travel. To see new places and meet new people and try new foods. Oh, and as the Herald Tribune does indeed contain a page of comics, to catch up on Doonesbury. That will be nice as well.