European Tour Diary 2018 Day 6: Koln

We wake up early with the intention to head over to Millerntor-Stadion, the home of St. Pauli FC.  I follow St. Pauli at home on shaky internet streams, getting up on some Sunday mornings to watch the matches on the stop/start video.  I first became interested in the club as their gear is absolutely killer, an Oakland Raiders vibe with a European fashion sensibility.  Then once I learned about their very left leaning ideals and focus on certain moral and ethical standards I agree with, I was in.  Sure, they are left to a fault, but they are fun.  When they avoided devastating 3^rd tier relegation with a late season winning streak, the team threw a free keg party.  The fans vote on sponsors in accordance with the potential sponsors matching up with the shared ideals of the club.  It is the anti-corporate approach.  I have no idea why the club doesn’t win more matches, as they must have an unreal revenue stream from merch alone.  You can buy the skull and crossbones gear anywhere.  I buy a bunch of crap in the team shop as does Hector and Chanda, huge futbol fans.

The show tonight is at a club called Museum.  Traffic is brutal on the autobahn due to merciless construction, so we arrive late.  This is a cardinal sin in Germany.  When someone says they will meet you at 9, they don’t mean 9:02.  They mean 9:00.  When you play shows that are scheduled to start at 10p, there will literally be no one in the club at 9:15.  Then at 9:30, a reliable stream of people file in, knowing that 10:00 start means EXACTLY at 10pm.  It’s a very sensible way to run things.

We do a quick load in and soundcheck and yield the stage to the opening band, Die Dusen.  One of the guitar players is from a very well known punk band from Germany in the late 80s/90s.  I had not heard of the band, but they were all super cool people.  It’s two guys playing acoustics with a female lead vocalist.  They have a noir smoky vibe to them that’s interesting.

We roll our luggage over to the hotel, a short walk away.  Christoph and I share a room, and it’s totally Euro.  Two small beds are pushed head to tail together against a wall.  There is a small sink and telephone booth sized shower.  Christoph insists on the bed near the power outlet so as to run his “information machine”, i.e. his computer with which he patrols the internet for any tidbit of info on fringe bands, disasters striking his friends, and God Knows What Else.  The toilet is down the hall, one for men and the other for women, and to be shared by all guests on the floor.  It should be noted that this is a three star hotel, and this set up is not considered out of the ordinary.  I hope Sugar can find her way down the small flight of steps in the middle of the night and doesn’t pee all over the hallway.

We go back to the club and play our best show of the tour.  The band is getting tighter and tighter each day.  The only downside is that Leo has lost his voice, which he has done on every single tour I have ever done with him.  Apparently screaming in clubs over music and smoking like a Rastafarian will catch up to you.  He insists on singing his backups despite not being able to get close to any of the notes.  I think the soundman drops him out of the mix, because I don’t hear him during the set.

During the set, an odd Russian looking guy is in the front row.  He is either very drunk, crazy, or a combination of both.  He is at the show alone.  He spends most of the set urging us on to some destination only he is clear on.  He is yelling at us in extremely limited English.  I think he wants us to play harder or more aggressive material, but it is hard to say what the real agenda is with him.  He then starts to focus on Sugar saying the phrase “too shy”.  I keep an eye on him as it looks like he could be a hassle.  I have found that if things go sideways, the angle of the stage provides devastating force when applied to swinging a heavy round-bottomed mic stand. 

Towards the very end of the set, the crowd is really into it.  They are really giving us great energy, which we are returning in our set.  The Russian guy then lurches near me saying, “shy”.  I then put the full power of the stage and PA system on him.  “Sir.  Sir, I beg of you.  No one has ever accused me of being too shy.  I believe you are mistaken sir.”  I lean down on him like he is a child.  The crowd laughs.  Leo breaks in.  “If you think we are too shy, then take a look at this!”  He then takes his pants off to finish the set.  The crowd laughs like crazy and it dawns on the man that he has cast himself in the role of The Fool.  He shrinks back.  We get two encores and too much praise.  It’s a really good night.

There is a rock solid plan for after the show.  We will load the gear down the street with military precision to the back of the van.  With all of us in synchronized fashion, it will take one trip.  We will then park the van against the wall of the parking lot and eat a triumphant post show meal.  It is a good plan, a sound plan.  Hector immediately packs up his rig.  Even Sugar wanders over to get her life together.  Leo’s gear remains untouched.

I know damn well where he is.  At this point in the tour, now Chanda does as well.  Not wanting to get tied down to Leo’s priorities and sense of time, she breaks down the kit with Christoph.  We get the pile of equipment over to the door for the discussed plan of Operation Load Out.  Leo sees this going on and drifts over.  Leo is so baked, I would call him “retarded”.  “Dude… It was crazy!  There were two joints going in a circle in opposite directions!  One pot and the other hash!  It was GREAT!”

I am at a massive disadvantage right now in that I am sober.  I had a couple pils but sweated those out hours ago.  I knew this was how this was going to go.  I decide to start the process.  My goal is to finish the responsibilities and become unshackled from the craziness of the group.  To get seven people going the same way at the same time is tough.  Toss in beers, shots, and who knows what else and it’s impossible.  It takes a full hour to get the gear to the van.  The plan for dinner is shaky at best.  Normally Christoph, christened “The Funstapo” by Sugar, would be the harsh leader and taskmaster.  Today with no post show driving and only a walk to the hotel, he has committed fully to wheat beers.  I would describe him as rather “loose”.   

I try to find a place for a decent glass of wine.  It’s Cologne, one of Germany’s largest cities.  Certainly there is a place that has a decent wine available.  I scan Google.  It’s almost 1am, and as we have learned about Europe, everything is closed.  We end up at a doner shop as it is the only thing open.  We are that group of drunk assholes you try to avoid at late night restaurants.  Outside the doorway, a young man barfs on the sidewalk.  There is a girl that has apparently wet her pants weaving by the crosswalk.  A man with dreadlocks is trying to convince her to come with him.  Outside there is confusion and madness.  It is time for bed.

I am very tired.  I just need one good seven hour stretch of sleep.  I lie on the bed and fall asleep immediately when Christoph goes down the hallway to the toilet.  It can’t be much later when I am awoken by a snoring so loud it is literally wall rattling.  Christoph is making noises I have never heard a human make.  I try to wake him by poking his foot.  Then I start slapping his foot.  Then I start slapping his foot with everything I’ve got.  He doesn’t stir in the slightest.  I turn on the lights and shake him by the shoulders.  “Christoph!  Christoph!”  Nothing works.  Fuck this.

I wander downstairs to find a confused young man behind the counter.  “Hey, do you have any other rooms?”  I am standing there is a pair of workout shorts and a Hillbilly Casino t-shirt barefoot.  The man types into the computer and stammers out “Well… Well.. we do have one but it is 99 euros…”  His expression suggests that this is a terrible idea.  It must be about 3am.  He obviously has had a good night’s sleep in the last week.  He then remembers something and turns to open a chest behind him.  He reaches in and produces a pair of earplugs.  I decide to try it.  If it doesn’t work, I can always come back and shell out for the room.  The entire second floor rumbles from snoring.  I can hear it from the first floor steps.  I plug my ears and manage to fall asleep.