European Tour Diary 2018: Day 12 Berlin

 

The expectation of a Berlin show is always high.  We have had great shows there in the past, nights that twisted into morning in a haze of smoke and mexicaner shots.  The city is one of the world’s most notable.  It is a place of linked neighborhoods with almost unlimited options.  Museums, galleries, performance spaces, specialty shops, The Wall, clubs, and secret spots where you need to know someone that knows someone to find.  The closest comparison is to New York City but without New York’s vertical elevation.  Berlin is a sprawl of five story buildings.  It is a beacon to artists, and so often the focus of the tour is on that show.  When that show is over, it usually feels like the climax.

The club we always try to play is the Wild At Heart.  It is where we cut the Live in Berlin record.  It is a room that just sounds good.  Soundcheck always takes 14 seconds there.  Plug in.  Sounds good.  I have all kinds of memories here from what must be 7-8 shows here in the past.  The bar owners are great, and always make us feel welcome.  It is a really good club.  Our gig tonight is set up perfectly.  Even though it is a Tuesday, it should be a party night.  Tomorrow is a holiday for German re-unification day, commemorating when the wall came down.  Everyone is off.  Trixie and the Trainwrecks, a band with local ties is the opener.  This is a no-brainer.  It should be a great time tonight.

The drive to get to Berlin is brutal.  Stuttgart to Berlin is usually about 7 hours.  It takes us 9 in a constant rain.  We make a stop at a gas station for provisions.  It takes about a week until we are back in the van.  We just can’t seem to make it to the city.  Stopped dead for traffic.  Another traffic jam going in.  A missed turn.  No place to U-turn.  No parking spot in front of the club to unload.  We don’t get out of the van until 7p for a quick load in.  Afterwards we go next door to the sister restaurant, a tiki themed Thai place, for the pre-show meal.  Christoph takes the van on a clandestine mission where it appears we have been the unwitting mules for a bike and washing machine for his daughter.  The city seems oddly quiet.

Mosh, our old label guy from Knock-Out is coming by later.  Stevie, a distant relative, is supposed to show up too.  We drink beer at the bar and wait for the crowd to show up.  They never do.  It’s a bust.  There’s some talk about the train line being shut down and free concerts in the city, but that’s all nonsense.  If people wanted to come, they’d come.  A small, unenthusiastic smattering of people stare at Trixie and the Trainwrecks.  That same group later stares at us.  There is no energy coming back.  It is literally one of the least satisfying shows I have played in years.  Even Hector about three quarters of the way through says “what the fuck dude?”.  He is the ultimate good sport and finds a silver lining in any cloud, but this is all rain.  We are playing well, but no one cares.  Mosh is a no show.  Even Stevie slinks off without ever entering the main room.  It is so far away from what we expected. We get a round of shots after the set that feel like a mercy kiss.

Afterwards I sit in the back dressing room.  It is worn down with stickers from previous tours plastering every inch.  I scan the wall looking for an old Daredevils sticker.  I think I put a Cowslingers sticker up there about 15 year ago.  It’s gone now, another band sticker having taken its place.  I can see a Turbo ACs sticker I remember as being fresh and crisp, now faded and old.  I wonder if the era has passed for the bar and myself.  It is a small existential crisis.  It was that type of night.  We load out fast and head back to the hostel where the club has put us up.

This is a new and different hostel from what we have stayed at in the past.  There is still a new carpet smell.  Overstimulated Danish teenagers bounce around the spacious lobby and common area with the freedom of personal independence.  Everything is new and fresh to them.  They practically crackle with electricity.  The grizzled rock band walks in with guitars and gear and go to the 24 hour bar at the desk.  Hex, Chanda, Leo and I all have local beers with the kids buzzing around involved in their teenage mini dramas.  We are going to cut out early, 9am to Frankfurt.  We need to put some distance between us and Berlin.