Tuesday, September 14, 2010

September 10, 2010

Stroussburg, France w/Unkind, Cayenne, and two folk acoustic singers @ Chez Mimir

Wake up to room of snoring men and expect to repeat this many times. The promoters are making breakfast so I go jogging before it is time to eat. We are made pancakes with apple sauce, breads with guacamole/spreads, and spicy beans. Again it is delicious. I also hear that Manuel rode a bike through the place last night and ran over sleeping people.

Drive to Stroussburg. Sit in traffic. Find venue. Three story squat with courtyard. We eat more good food. Men start playing acoustic folk avant garde musics and the place is packed. Greg and I wander off to walk around the city and look at old shit. Take pictures at creepy old church, walk to park in front of giant court house looking building with lots of statues everywhere, encounter group of well dressed Jewish couples out partying and they stop us to bullshit for a while and ask me to sing them a song and tell us they are looking for nice boys to date two of the single girls in the group. They also told some joke that we didn’t get and talked about NYC. We go back to show.

It is 1am and the punk bands have started playing. The early civilian crowd has rotated out for the punk crowd. Lots of drunk couples making out. We play and I have to stand to the side by the door because the mic cord is only about 12 feet long. By this time it is nearly 3am and alcohol has destroyed sobriety all around us. Bottle are dropping, the floor is slippery with beer and littered with broken glass. People are stumble moshing and yell into the mics while we play. Two of them fall down so I sit on them and sing half a song. It is chaos and filth. Some wasted French music fan in a black fedora and Paul Schaeffer glasses is speaking to me in words that are not English and wants my beer. He keeps asking me things I can’t understand and kissing me on the cheek and I assume this is the French way so I use this interaction to amuse myself.

No comments:

Post a Comment