The guys all make it to the airport in Vancouver O.K. I head south to Seattle, by road, after the usual kerfuffle at the US Customs and Immigration. All nice guys (and women who look like guys) after the obligatory kurtness. The biggest thing on their minds seems to be plants, fruits and vegetables. I guess I’m finally hitting that time in life when I no longer look like a drug-taking threat to their daughters. I well remember the days of body searches and interrogations.
As I recall, coming back after tours, into the U.K. when I lived there, was sometimes even worse. It was always the ex-military, Scots guys who gave you the really hard time. Returning from touring India once, Laurie Wisefield had to face the ultimate indignity, due to the discovery of the gift he had aquired there. “Is that a chillum, laddie?” We didn’t even recognize the word. Pipe would have done just fine.
Anyway, I digress. Vancouver was a good ending to the North American stint. Prior to actually saying our goodbyes, the next morning, Joe, Daniel and myself go to the Elbow Room for a celebratory breakfast only to find out why the hotel receptionist had winked at her partner when describing the place as ‘fun’. Turns out that the waiters and waitresses insult the clients and that’s part of the schtick. This little Portugese waitress gets Daniel in her sights and keeps on asking him “what’s your fucking problem?” while telling him he’d never be able to eat 2 of their special pancakes. He didn’t get the joke and I really thought the two of them were going to come to blows. “I just want some breakfast – what is this?” he pleads. After further abuse she comes out from the kitchen and places a dunces cap on our man and he finally musters a smile.
As I said, the guys set off for the airport and the long flight home. My journey is only just beginning with what turns out to be a 6 day slog on interstate highways and sometimes lesser roads, across the entire continent. Stopping off for a sandwich just before heading over the Rockies, the Indian guy at the convenience store (they are all Indian these days, along with a lot of the motel proprietors across America) enquires why I’d walked across the road to get there and did not drive? “Just felt like it,” I say. He looks at me like I’m from another planet. I tell him I’m driving out east and has he ever been to Yellowstone Park? He says “yes” but while there, he hit a mouse in his RV and broke it’s leg. I’m really perplexed by this until he elaborates and describes a large animal with antlers. I say “ Oh, you mean a moose.” “Yes, that’s it”. He says, eagerly. I say I’d had the same encounter in Maine, with one of these prehistoric deer. He nods sagely. He tells me to watch out for the buffalo if I go to Yellowstone because I could be held up for hours.
Pretty soon I see deep snow in the mountains along with hail, rain and fog and then decide to drop down from Interstate 90 to I80 through Wyoming. It is there that I see some of the most ominous skies and narrowly miss being hit by tornadoes. I catch a severe chest infection while driving across the plain states – either from pollen or chemical fertilizers. The final day entails a 22 hour drive, after getting lost in NY state. After a 1 hour nap, I have another quick hospital appointment and then it’s straight to the airport for the Dutch and Belgian dates.
I arrive at Brussels international airport to be reunited with the guys and we set off for Alem Pop, a mid sized festival where we are to play alongside Manfred Mann’s Earth Band and those cheeky chappies, Status Quo. The Dutch really have the festival thing down these days. The organization here is first rate. We do a quick line check and play what I thought was a pretty kicking 1 hour set. The Manfreds were next up and in my opinion, they sound and play excellently. Particularly liked their British guitarist, Mick Rogers and the drummer, Jimmy Copley, makes his re-aquaintance with me after a 30 year- plus period of time. Back in the day, I sat in with his band Upp on a John Peel radio session for the BBC recorded in the early 70’s. Upp were a really useful funk / soul outfit fronted by keyboardist, Andy Clark. Our agent, Ian Copeland had made the introduction for me to sit in with them in place of one, Jeff Beck, it turns out. Jeff had guested on their album back in the early 70‘s. I believe he also produced the band.
Back to the present time and the festival; the Quo do the business, although not without a power failure during the middle of their set. Later, in the hotel bar we have big fun with much imbibing. The rest of the Benelux dates which are much smaller affairs, go quite smoothly, ending in Drachten, northern Holland. After this and with only 4 hours sleep we take a long drive back to Brussels and say our goodbyes congratulating each other on a fine body of work. Next stop Le Creusot in France where we are to play a blues style festival with Ten Years After towards the end of the month.
Is there any end to eternity?
Right now, my body is back in Connecticut but I’m still waiting for my brain to join it. Nonetheless it brings to mind a song or album title; ‘Comfortably Numb.’ So many miles, so many impressions as we wind down from over 8 months of touring with this new CD of songs and a bag full of ideas for our next recording.
