…as soon as we can get the charges dropped…
Oh yeah… at some point we managed to do a gig as well…
Tale has it that Poland and Lithuania (Honorary second-home of FTB, and we ain’t talkin secret police) were once called the Republic of Two Nations. Every country in Europe has their crosstown rivals with histories older than a few world wars– and Lithuanians like the Polish only slightly more than they do the Russians, which is kinda not at all, while the Polish like Russians far more than they like Germans, which is, less than not at all. That being clearly stated, the similarities between PL and LT are striking — the weather, the food, not to mention the contagious memory loss that occurs to quasi-professional traveling Berliner musician types when inserted into said cultures…. oh yeah, and especially the cornucopia of darling young girls…. some of whom happen to be, uh, Russian.
I think I’ll adopt this one.
& this one too
well, on account of the popular demand that’s ensued since I adopted my first daughter, the lovely Austrian Mädel Mel, nowadays before adopting teenage girls, they have to meet certain requirements & Fez standards, answer 100% correctly 60% of the time on 9 random questions — and then, of course, the penultimate litmus test to join the Wrecker Clan….. Five Card Draw!
….bonus points for winning at “Trump the Drummer”
So our host Kamil, a man of few words who somehow always seemed to escape the camera’s eye, met us at the train station to greet the circus and get our asses and gear into taxis to the hotel — nice city, Warsaw. It was grey and cold just like they said it would be.
Our hotel was conveniently situated a nasty traffic jam away from the venue as the cab flies — but there was a 24Hour Tesco and Media Markt right next door, where you can buy…..
BABYMEAT! (apologies to Justin)
…or, more foreshadowing, natch…
So after a little rest and refreshment at the hotel…
So aaaaaaaaaannnnnyhoo — after a breif power nap, it was off to work. Met up with our pals the Last Days of Jesus in the Lobby. Didn’t get fotos of both gangs, but it sounds rather biblical: “Frank the Baptist and The Last Days of Jesus waiting for golden taxis in the lobby of a hotel in Warsaw” – kinda like an elegant tabloid headline, dontcha think?
They weren’t too thrilled with hauling a guitarist in the trunk of a taxi through Warsaw, so I went solo in cab number three, thinking i’d be 45 minutes late to soundczech– my cabbie made me over an hour late anyway, & I had to get Frankie to get someone on the phone to guide the driver in. Turns out, the club had the best intentions and the least equipment, so there was no soundczech** for details on the ensuing hours and fiascos of behind the scene workings, visit Jaymo’s account of the day at: twistedwreckage.com/blog
The club had already opened by the time the gear finally arrived, and by then we were already waiting… meeting new folks, running into old friends, etc.
So then we had lotsa time to kill till we were due to play at 11 — which we knew was two hours too ambitious. The hardest part was to remain sober, and not drink too much outta boredom.
But hey, enough o’ my yakkin…… we still had work to do.
So far so good…
or, “more portents of doom”
So on the way to Poland, after polishing (pun intended) off Nookies for breakfast, some of us decided to catch up on missing sleep…
So after Jaymo got hassled for not having his proper paperz in order by the Polish military on the train, who eventually gave up & stammered off, I asked crew members if it was legal to smoke on trains in Poland. They said of course not, but if i must, go in the bathroom and open a window…
Trip deuces on a neighbor train… portents of a memorable weekend to come.
They knew we were coming….
or just breathing heavily….
— gonna sleep for 5 or so, then pack and load at HQ before. Final rehearsal in 10 hour.s. Unfortunately not taking my sweet Vox to Warsaw — new territories + train travel = hazard for snazzy new amp… no Gretsch this time… Mera Luna was a cakewalk with all that stage and all those lights and debuting Justin — we have no idea what we’re up against in Poland, so we’re going old school, and I’m bringin’ Old Blue.
Maybe next year, maybe by Whitby I’ll be rockin’ a very spezial hollow-body I’m hoping gets rescued by star for the love of the game–
After rehearsal, reload — meetings, then poker until we board the train. Already packed with grapefruits, tobacco, pears, vitamins, grains, nutz, teabags, water, gin cards, poker cards, nude cards, emergency whiskey in plastic bottle courtesy of the Polskadots from Cork, etc.
Frank sez: Don’t forget the effin’ banner!
remind me to grab it