3.4 The Road to Bielefeld
We meet at the van by Goldmark’s in the morning, dump our
luggage, and head over to Andi and Anji’s music store located in the shopping
area close to the art museum and grand open courtyard near the train
station. The store is really
great, much larger than I would have expected. The store may actually violate the rules of physics as the
inside is about 4 times the size it appears from the outside. Maybe German engineering finally
cracked some sort of code and they haven’t let us in on it yet.
I haven’t seen Anji in years, and I almost forgot how much I
enjoy talking to her. She is so present
in the moment, and engaged in the conversation. She is always so much fun to talk to. We head over to a small café next door
to grab a quick drink and get caught up.
It really is terrific to spend time with them, and I only wish we could
spend more. Andi confirms his
title as nicest guy on the planet by picking up the check.
I had hoped to see the Otto Dix exhibit at the Stuttgart art
museum, but like all things in Europe, it is closed on Monday. Between all the vacation days and
limited store hours, it is amazing that these folks pulled the Renaissance
together. We head back to the van,
say goodbye to Robin, who as usual barbs me about doing a Cowslingers gig in
Stuttgart. I will go on the record
right now and say that Leo and I are “in”, and I am pretty sure Krusty is
too. I'll do it! I'll do it! Leave me alone! That ball is in Bobby
Latina’s court now! Robin’s masterplan
is to do a Whiskey Daredevils/Cowslingers double bill. Five hours. I think afterwards Leo and I would fall over dead, and our
bodies would be burned out by the train station.
It is a six hour drive to Bielefeld, but it is the sunniest
and most pleasant weather of the entire trip. For the first time in weeks, I am too warm to have my coat
on. Antje is driving like a pro,
although she almost loses control of the van when my iPod shuffles onto Warren
Zevon’s “Werewolves of London”.
She thought it was that Kid Rock song where he stole (I mean “sampled”)
the hook, and I imagine our indie rock credibility was about to be
shattered. She settled down once
she realized she was going to be spared Kid Rock. Amazingly, she had never heard the Zevon song.
We finally arrive at our friend Tobi’s place. Now, when I say “Tobi’s Place”, I guess
I really mean Steffi’s place, his unbelievably cute and cheerful girlfriend
that has a killer apartment on top of a building in a nice neighborhood. Steffi is some kind of brain
pathologist. She has one of those
jobs where you aren’t even sure WHAT it is, much less what she actually does at
it. They are extremely generous
hosts. Seriously, who wants five
scrubby musicians on tour lounging around their house on a Monday? They have to go to work tomorrow. Us? It’s Saturday night for us. We’re off. We
drink wine and beer, and listen to Roky Erickson and Thin Lizzy records until
the wee hours. Tobi is always so
much fun to hang out with, and tonight is no exception. We go deep into Thin Lizzy. Too deep. At one point we are listening to Phil’s electronic solo
album. God help us. We finally say enough is enough and
retire. The solo album haunts my
dreams…
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