European Tour Diary 2018: Day 8 Karlsruhe

It’s a long drive to Karlsruhe and I can’t wake up.  The gnome hut had crazy noises of large nuts falling on the flat roof, roosters crowing like crazy, and a wild shrieking noise from an animal I cannot identify.  Tree apes?  Peacocks?  I don’t get a deep sleep again and it has really caught up to me.  I fall asleep in the front passenger seat in a series of mini naps complete with head bobs.  My neck is killing me.  I wake up every once in awhile to find angry emails and voice mails from North America about a variety of topics out of my control.  A heaviness starts to envelope me.

We arrive at the club, the Alte Hackerei, which is a cool performance space converted from an old slaughterhouse.  It is a really good room with a warm competent staff but every time we have played here in the past, the crowd seems to stand and stare.  I am having a hard time getting energy up.  That’s not going to help.  We do a gear and luggage shuffle and drop the bags at the band apartment.  I keep mine in the van as I will be spirited away by friends to set up a wine tasting visit the next day in the Pfalz.  I walk into a nearby bakery and get a sandwich and doppio espresso.  I need to change the chemistry. 

The club has a nice bier garten in the back.  The sun is struggling to push its last warm rays down before Fall marches in.  It is the very last gasp of summer.  We receive word that Leo’s luggage will be delivered in Stuttgart tomorrow.  My very stern phone call two days ago has done the trick.  Leo seems unimpacted.  I think he had forgotten about whatever was in that bag days ago. 

We have a meal from the food truck that is attached to the back of the venue.  They cook traditional German food from the region with a hipster twist.  I order something which was recommended to me. I could not even try to guess at the spelling or pronunciation of it, but it is a flattened sausage patty with red wine reduced onions and a fried egg on top.  There is a side of German style potato salad served warm to help soak up the sauce.  It’s quite tasty.  Mr. Evil has arrived. Jochen has arrived with Sarah.  It feels comfortable to be back in south Germany, my favorite region in the country.

I talk wine with Plueschi, the guy running the bar.  I am trying to go straight edge after last night’s debacle of the never ending shots, but the bartender gives me a bottle of crisp citrusy Auxerrois, a somewhat obscure white grape that is refreshing and light.  So much for the straight edge.  Still, I am just wrung out.  I know I don’t act my age, but I’m not 22 anymore either.  I look over at Sugar as we sit in the dressing room quietly just staring blankly ahead.  She is looking at about the same stage as me.  I have hit the point in the tour where my voice is tired but still functional.  I can’t hit the very high notes but still have a narrow range which is reliable.  I just need to stay in my lane.

We hit the stage and it takes a minute for the machine to gain momentum.  I am drinking water like a man wandering the desert.  I stealthily clip Hector’s stage water.  He later blames a guy standing in the front.  We start to fall into place and the show is OK.  It’s not our best, but it’s nothing to be embarrassed about either.  We got a couple of encores, which is especially nice in this town where I have found the audiences to be so reserved for us.  We pose for some pictures and sign records.  It’s a very nice group here that came to see us.

After the show Antje has decided to kick off Sugar’s birthday with a cake she has somehow secured.  The candles provide a warm glow in the room.  The Sugar Birthday appears to be set up as a 24 hour marathon birthday celebration.  The ladies have written out a list of things they are going to do on Sugar’s birthday, and it is about 23 items long.  Based on my experience, if they can accomplish “lunch” and one project, they will be well beyond my expectations.  Sugar leans in and blows out the candles.  The still assembled crowd applauds with genuine warmth.  The bartender pours an enormous tray of shots, some sort of brutal local Jager.  I want nothing to do with it and slip out front to sit at a picnic table by myself.  It is nice to feel the cooling breeze of the fall cold front and smell the leaves.  I sip the Auxerrois and enjoy the calm.

I told Jochen that we can leave whenever he would like to go.  I will be staying with him and his girlfriend Sarah at her place in Landau.  This is all part of a white knuckle plan devised by the Roths where I get to visit a winery while still arriving in Stuttgart tomorrow without incident.  They are extremely nervous about it.  Jochen, Sarah and I  leave with another guy I just meet in Jochen’s VW wagon..  The man has a cackling laugh like the minor character in “The Big Lebowski” that is hanging out in the art gallery woman’s studio.  He speaks in animated German as the car speeds rapidly on the Autobahn followed by loud outbursts of wild giggles.  I have no idea what this guy’s deal is.  We drop him off in a nice residential neighborhood and head to Sarah’s. 

The house is a three family home where her mother and sister also live.  Each has their own floor in the home.  It is a comfortable space with all sorts of vintage curios decorating the area.  Jochan and I have a local pils as a nightcap as we discuss the difficulties of working with people with mental illness, peculiarities of Asberger’s Syndrome, and the downsides of each of our national health care systems.  He is a bright guy and fun to talk to.  The couple has graciously set me up in the living room on an inflatable mattress.  It’s a luxury to sleep in a room by myself where the only snoring is mine.  I sleep deeply.