Posts
In many respects this year was a challenging one – for us and for many of our friends. If overcoming adversity builds character then I think it’s safe to say there are some real characters roaming around the musical landscape! We hope you'll join us in facing the changing times ahead with an open heart, an open mind and an optimistic attitude. At midnight we will give a heartfelt toast those who are no longer with us but are never to be forgotten. We resolve to show affection and appreciation those we care about and to be kinder and more patient in the coming year, and to never let our dreams die.
Tonight we ring in a new year and a new decade. Looking back, we are filled with gratitude for the encouragement, the energy, and the adventures that you - our friends, family, fans and business associates – have shared with us and have sent our way over the past six years. You have, and always will play a huge role in our musical journey. Without all of you… well, we’d probably be jamming in a basement somewhere instead of sharing our music with people around the globe. We never, ever forget that.
When we started the Rusty Wright Band back in 2004 Rusty and I had been professional musicians for most of our lives. Over the years we’d settled onto the path of least resistance, playing cover tunes for good money, but the thought of filling our years with more of the same was… unappealing. Today there is an unending selection of great original music by independent music artists thanks to innovators like Derek Sivers and websites like CDBaby. Indie artists of all genres can now carve out a musical niche if they are willing to work hard and invest in their music career but in the early part of the decade, the idea was heady, exhilarating, and more than a little scary – especially for a middle aged couple deciding to give the proverbial finger to reigning social attitudes which said we weren’t young enough and pretty enough to be musically relevant. Fast forward six years. Wow. Six very gratifying and challenging years filled with music and new friendships, learning experiences and adventures. We hope you’ll stick with us a while longer because we’re confident the best is yet to be.
From all of us in the Rusty Wright Band to all of you, wishing you and yours all things bright and beautiful in this fine new year we have ahead of us. In the immortal words of Spock, "Live long and prosper." ;-)
Dec 31, 2010
Jul 23, 2010
Laurie's Travel Blog: RWB's Tour of Italy - Part I
10:30 a.m. 7-14-10
Rome airport, first impression - very warm temps around 90, typical for this time of year.
picked up guitars and luggage. Rusty was worried about how his Epi would fare but all was fine. We met up with Ado, our tour manager. Young, hip with multiple earrings and piercings in his ears, several rings, tattoo sleeve. His English is excellent. Tells us our first stop is Torre Alfina to the North, about a 3 hour drive . We have a small bus with high back bench seats. The air doesn't work very well, but it's enough to keep us from melting.
Surprised how quickly we left the city for a rural landscape. Huge hay bales, fields of sunflowers, craggy hilltops with ancient villages perched precariously, the houses built to the very edges of the cliffs. I'm sure Ado is amused by our video blogging and me taking photos of every interesting looking building along the way, but he doesn't say anything. We're all exhausted so the guys soon doze off. I can't sleep, can't stand the thought of missing some of the spectacular countryside.
We finally turn off the highway on to more rural roads, twisting and turning upward, past olive groves and small farms. Finally we catch sight of the castle in the distance. A real castle. Crenelated towers Beautiful trees make a canopy over the curving road leading into Torre Alfina. We have arrived in a perfectly preserved medieval village dating back to the 8th century. Picturesque beyond description. Narrow cobblestone streets. Flower boxes hang beneath shuttered windows. Not a neon sign in sight. Nor a scrap of litter anywhere. We quickly find our hotel and the guys almost cry with joy to see a sparkling pool. There is also a restaurant where we will eat dinner. No television in the the restaurant or the bars. People enjoy animated conversations at the tables.
Dinner, 7-14-10
They want us to experience a traditional Italian dinner so they ask us to allow them to make recommendations. We tell them yes, absolutely!
First course
carafes of house red wine, sparkling water and regular water (fizzy or flat) platters of crostini, cheese with fresh tomato, beans, pate, ham/prosciutto and cheese
a platter of antipasto – thinly sliced cured meats
pasta – two kinds homemade noodles
egg noodles with wild boar sauce
thick fetticini with an incredibly fresh tomato chili sauce. Ado informs them I am allergic to eggs so they make sure to point out which dishes are safe for me to eat.
platter of thinly sliced (shaved) prime rib with au jus (they described it as roast beef)
salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and sauteed spinach with lemon wedges.
Festival organizer, Carlos, more often than not called El Presidente byt the village residents, sends over a carafe of local specialty wine, lightly sparkling, smooth, wonderful. He explains that this is the wine the locals make. Each town's wine tastes slightly different. If you travel 20 km the local wine will taste different because of the soil the grapes are grown in.
After dinner we walk through the village. Since it is too hot to work during the afternoon hours, the sound and stage crew has worked late into the evening building the stage in the town square in front of the church. Tomorrow they will rig the lights and PA. Its a good solid, large stage. Behind the stage is a picturesque row of stone houses with fine doors, shuttered windows and flower pots and window boxes. There are pots of dazzling flowers and lemon and lime trees everywhere. It is 11 pm and families and children are out in the square, children playing on the church steps.
we walk up a steep street to a bar where alcohol and gelato is served. I try the berry gelato and some chocolate. rich and creamy.
The hotel is a family-owned affair. Everyone in the family seems to work there - day and night
Connie is the lady of the restaurante she and the dark haired gentleman take excellent care of us. In the morning continental breakfast consisting of cappacino, croissants & pastries, fresh yogurt with toppings, fresh orange juice. Have I mentioned Everything is FRESH and natural. Behin the hotel is a small garden with a grape arbor, lemon and lime trees, tomatoes, leeks, lettuce, rosemary, basil, herbs and other vegetables.
Rusty said lunch was a buffet of roasted and fried vegetables - onions dusted with bread crumbs and baked until sweet and soft, carrots, tomatoes brushed with olive oil and herbs and cooked - flavor was intense. Artichokes, beans etc.
Once again we have struck gold with our tour manager. Ado is magnifico - extremely competent, and on top of things. He's a very nice guy to boot. We like him a lot and are grateful for our good fortune. He watches over us carefully and is quick to make sure we have what we need for our performance. At this level, a tour manager often wears many hats. Part babysitter/guardian angel, part translator, part goodwill ambassador and part cheerleader, he works hard to keep us comfortable so we can do our best at the shows. He gets to drive the bus and to sell CDs for us, to boot. Tour managers must be very detail-oriented and knowlegable about a wide range of subjects. Ado's days are very long - he doesn't get any "down" time but he seems to enjoy hanging out with us and is probably relieved we're not a demanding bunch.
We are supposed to be down at the stage at 5:30 for an interview, to be followed by our sound check. Our interviewers are some of my new Facebook friends. The interview takes about 5 minutes then we settle back on the benches to wait for sound check. Evidently it was too hot earlier in the day to finish setting up the stage so things are running a bit behind. Two hours later we get sound check. The crew is very competent and wants very much to get the sound right for us as a film crew is on hand to tape our performance. For Dave, there is a nice Roland keyboard and a pristine 1961 Hammond B3 and Leslie speaker has been provided. For a moment I think he's going to cry with joy. There is a wide selection of amps for Andy, Rusty and I to choose from. A young man named Marco tells us some of the tube amps are hand built by a gentleman standing close by smiling. "they are very good," he tells us. At his suggestion I tell him I will use a small Dumble combo amp. Low, mid, high EQ, volume, input, and standby are hand lettered on the front panel - in Italian of course. Its a basic amp so it doesn't take long to decifer the wording. Its warm and squashy as only a tube amp can sound and my Tele sounds good through it.
Suddenly Dave yelps, grabs his arm and jumps back. Evidently there is a ground problem on one of the keyboard because he has gotten a jolt of 220 up his arm that hurts like hell. The crew swarms to fix the problem and Marco gets a jolt of it as well as they figure out where the problem spots are. Finally they connect a ground wire under a screw on the B3 which solves the problem for Dave but the rest of us are sternly warned not to touch either of his keyboards while holding guitars. We finally finish with sound check about 8 pm. Showtime is 10:30 and we have yet to eat dinner. Most of us skipped lunch because of the large dinner we had the previous night, so we are ravenously hungry. Back to the restaurant we go.
Dinner, day 2 July 15
I can't imagine that our fare will be this spectacular throughout our tour and Ado confirms this. "This is a special place," he says. Indeed it is. A magical, fairytale sort of place. Throughout our stay Rusty and I look at each other in amazement and wonder (wistfully) what it would be like to live in such a place. Less than 400 people inhabit this medieval village. We learn from a visiting Belgian lady that the castle is for sale - only 11 million euros. Hmmmm, need to play the lotto a little more often. An American from Baltimore tells me he has been bringing his family here for a month long visit for the past five years. He says they have tried everything imaginable, including offering the castle caretake a bribe to see the inside of the castle. It didn't work. Evidently the castle was locked up after the last owner lost his fortune funding a sports team. The property sits in limbo because the man fled to Santo Domingo after filing for bankruptcy. Since no one can find him, nothing can move forward.
Carafes of water and red wine appear on the table.
appetizer buffet - salad, more roasted/grilled vegetables, artichokes, beans, a platter of wafer thin beef strips topped with greens and shreds of parmagiano, bowls of polenta - sundried tomato flavor and the other is full of ingredients I can't identify but enjoy greatly. The restaurante is packed so I don't want to bother the staff asking questions. In the corner Michael Burks, his band and tour manager Manolo are having dinner. He has just arrived and looks as jet lagged as we must have the day before.
Three platters of pasta make up the main course. One is a rustic noodle dish with a gorgonzola cheese sauce which is delicious but filling. The second, egg noodles with a mushroom sauce. I love mushrooms. Connie rushes over when she sees me put a dab of mushroom sauce on my plate with a couple of egg noodles clinging to it. I think she feels bad I have only one pasta to try so a few minutes later a third platter of pillowy chunks of pasta in a tomato meat sauce (perhaps wild boar again) is delivered to the table. Tonight we are urged to try dessert, so we each order something. I ask for a recommendation on an egg-free dessert and am served a lovely creamy custard-y dessert topped with rich chocolate. (I think it probably has eggs in it but it is so delicious I don't care. I can live with a night of fibromyalgia for something this good. Ado orders expresso and Limoncella for all of us. Pete chooses to forgo the alcoholic beverages since he has never tasted alcohol and says it seems a shame to break that record now. It should be interesting doing a concert after such a filling meal.
Connie is very warm and likable, and always seems relaxed and unflappable. It appears she is confident in her team and she knows they are great at what they do. She tells us she cannot make it to our show as she will be working still at 10:30 and asks that we sing her a song. No problemo. We will also make sure a set of autographed CDs finds their way into her hands before we leave..
Much to our relief the stage is rigged with state of the art LED lighting - which means no additional heat on stage. By 10:30 the weather is as perfect as you could ever wish for. Too dry for mosquitoes, a balmy 75 degrees with a light breeze.
Torre Alfina Blues Band kicks off the show, playing rock classics and blues tunes. Very tight band. We could hear them from the hotel as we got ready for the show. Dave banged on the in the door - "Did you hear them kick off with Bad Company's Rock Steady?" When Rusty & I arrived they were playing Aerosmith's Sweet Emotion and they finished their set with Sweet Home Alabama.
By comparison, our set was a huge contrast - almost all original music. The show went great and the crowd was very enthusiastic. A film crew videotaped the show - multi-camera shoot & the audio crew was very attentive. They did a wonderful job. Michael Burks sat on the church steps listening to the first 5-6 songs before slipping away. Afterward we talked with people, went back to change clothes and then headed for the jam in a little square up in the village. It was 1 am and the whole town appeared to be there. Torre Alfina Blues Band playing again - more rock covers. People singing along... Rusty, Dave, Pete and I sat off to the side listening and smiling at our new friends, many of whom I'd connected with on Facebook before the start of the trip. Next thing we knew, Dave was asked to sit in on keyboards. He'd had a bit to drink. As they got ready to start the next song he turned to us in dismay and hollered "Oh crap! It's in the key of F#m and its an ORIGINAL tune!" Rusty and I busted out laughing. Rusty waved and shouted back "God be with you," still laughing. Dave did an impressive job of following along. Lots of improv, and even threw his leg up on the keys and did a credible Jerry Lee Lewis impression when El Presidente Carlo strapped on a gold top Gibson Les Paul and took off on Johnny B Good. Dave was still flailing on the keys when Rusty and I headed back to the room about 2:30. Ado promised to make sure he got back safely.
7-16-10
Needless to say, we were tired when we hit the road at 9:30 a.m., a six hour drive ahead of us. We are heading North of Milan to the Traveling Music Fest in San Lorenzo di Rovetta, located in the central Northern region of the country.
With the temp in excess of 100 degrees, the van is hot, hot, hot. The air conditioning doesn't work very well and doesn't reach past the front seat in any case so we opened every window that would open let the hot air blow in. Even the mountain region is experiencing a heat wave. In Italy, you have to have a license for air conditioning and many hotels are equipped with neither air conditioning or heat. Our lodgings for the night is a beautiful, secluded little resort that was once a gristmill. It is very beautiful in a rustic way, and from the window of our room we can hear the rush of water next to the building and see people fishing with cane poles at the well stocked trout pond.
A quick shower, then we head to the venue for sound check. Tonight's show is at a local festival. The stage is large and again, the audio crew is competent and dials in the sound quickly. Our back line for the night is to be provided by our opening act, Dr. Faust & the Traveling Boys, another tight cover band. The guys tease me that the amp I am to play through has more knobs than the space shuttle. Wish I'd taken a photo of it. It sounded good though. tonight Dave has a Nord keyboard rather than a B3. He has never played one and is curious to try it.
Back at the resort we meet downstairs for dinner in the outside dining area. Most of us order thin crust traditional pizzas baked in a wood fired pizza oven. Andy orders steak and Ado a seafood risotto dish.We have time for another shower (to cool off) and we head back to the festival where thousands of people are grooving to the cover band. There are food and drink vendors everywhere and vendors selling arts, crafts, clothing and jewelry - very similar to the community festivals in the US. People seem to enjoy the cover tunes and I can't help but wonder how our original music will go over. I need not have worried. We kicked ass. Major ass, and left the crowd screaming their approval.
The young guys in particular like Rusty's guitar playing. After we leave the stage a young guitar player - early 20s at most - bounds up and kisses me on both cheeks, shouts that he loves me and that he has never seen a woman guitarist who played "with an attitude." How funny. Bless Ado's heart. Our Italian savior politely intercedes when a tall, anorexic, Cleopatra-type woman decides she wouldn't mind sleeping with anyone/everyone in the band. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Ciao. Gotta go now. In fact, it is while trying to explain to "Cleo" that Rusty and I are married that I realized my wedding band wasn't on my finger. With some very unladylike words I jumped up from my seat, panicking. There is no way I was going to find it if it had slipped off my finger at the festival. Then I recalled hearing a strange 'ping' on the cobblestones as we were leaving our hotel. I glanced around but since I hadn't dropped any of the items I was carrying in my hands I forgot about it.
Ado agreed to take Rusty and I back to the hotel to look for my ring. On the ride back, Massimo, our tour promoter/agent checks in with Ado to see how the show went. We don't ask Ado exactly what he has reported to Massimo but have no reason to believe anything negative was said. We'd had a really good show and everyone. After dropping us off, Ado headed back to enjoy the festival with Dave, Andy and Pete and to drive them back to the hotel when they are ready. We search for a few minutes but it was too dark to really look for my ring so we decided to get up really early to search some more. I'm happy to report we found it in the morning.
Rome airport, first impression - very warm temps around 90, typical for this time of year.
picked up guitars and luggage. Rusty was worried about how his Epi would fare but all was fine. We met up with Ado, our tour manager. Young, hip with multiple earrings and piercings in his ears, several rings, tattoo sleeve. His English is excellent. Tells us our first stop is Torre Alfina to the North, about a 3 hour drive . We have a small bus with high back bench seats. The air doesn't work very well, but it's enough to keep us from melting.
Surprised how quickly we left the city for a rural landscape. Huge hay bales, fields of sunflowers, craggy hilltops with ancient villages perched precariously, the houses built to the very edges of the cliffs. I'm sure Ado is amused by our video blogging and me taking photos of every interesting looking building along the way, but he doesn't say anything. We're all exhausted so the guys soon doze off. I can't sleep, can't stand the thought of missing some of the spectacular countryside.
We finally turn off the highway on to more rural roads, twisting and turning upward, past olive groves and small farms. Finally we catch sight of the castle in the distance. A real castle. Crenelated towers Beautiful trees make a canopy over the curving road leading into Torre Alfina. We have arrived in a perfectly preserved medieval village dating back to the 8th century. Picturesque beyond description. Narrow cobblestone streets. Flower boxes hang beneath shuttered windows. Not a neon sign in sight. Nor a scrap of litter anywhere. We quickly find our hotel and the guys almost cry with joy to see a sparkling pool. There is also a restaurant where we will eat dinner. No television in the the restaurant or the bars. People enjoy animated conversations at the tables.
Dinner, 7-14-10
They want us to experience a traditional Italian dinner so they ask us to allow them to make recommendations. We tell them yes, absolutely!
First course
carafes of house red wine, sparkling water and regular water (fizzy or flat) platters of crostini, cheese with fresh tomato, beans, pate, ham/prosciutto and cheese
a platter of antipasto – thinly sliced cured meats
pasta – two kinds homemade noodles
egg noodles with wild boar sauce
thick fetticini with an incredibly fresh tomato chili sauce. Ado informs them I am allergic to eggs so they make sure to point out which dishes are safe for me to eat.
platter of thinly sliced (shaved) prime rib with au jus (they described it as roast beef)
salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and sauteed spinach with lemon wedges.
Festival organizer, Carlos, more often than not called El Presidente byt the village residents, sends over a carafe of local specialty wine, lightly sparkling, smooth, wonderful. He explains that this is the wine the locals make. Each town's wine tastes slightly different. If you travel 20 km the local wine will taste different because of the soil the grapes are grown in.
After dinner we walk through the village. Since it is too hot to work during the afternoon hours, the sound and stage crew has worked late into the evening building the stage in the town square in front of the church. Tomorrow they will rig the lights and PA. Its a good solid, large stage. Behind the stage is a picturesque row of stone houses with fine doors, shuttered windows and flower pots and window boxes. There are pots of dazzling flowers and lemon and lime trees everywhere. It is 11 pm and families and children are out in the square, children playing on the church steps.
we walk up a steep street to a bar where alcohol and gelato is served. I try the berry gelato and some chocolate. rich and creamy.
The hotel is a family-owned affair. Everyone in the family seems to work there - day and night
Connie is the lady of the restaurante she and the dark haired gentleman take excellent care of us. In the morning continental breakfast consisting of cappacino, croissants & pastries, fresh yogurt with toppings, fresh orange juice. Have I mentioned Everything is FRESH and natural. Behin the hotel is a small garden with a grape arbor, lemon and lime trees, tomatoes, leeks, lettuce, rosemary, basil, herbs and other vegetables.
Rusty said lunch was a buffet of roasted and fried vegetables - onions dusted with bread crumbs and baked until sweet and soft, carrots, tomatoes brushed with olive oil and herbs and cooked - flavor was intense. Artichokes, beans etc.
Once again we have struck gold with our tour manager. Ado is magnifico - extremely competent, and on top of things. He's a very nice guy to boot. We like him a lot and are grateful for our good fortune. He watches over us carefully and is quick to make sure we have what we need for our performance. At this level, a tour manager often wears many hats. Part babysitter/guardian angel, part translator, part goodwill ambassador and part cheerleader, he works hard to keep us comfortable so we can do our best at the shows. He gets to drive the bus and to sell CDs for us, to boot. Tour managers must be very detail-oriented and knowlegable about a wide range of subjects. Ado's days are very long - he doesn't get any "down" time but he seems to enjoy hanging out with us and is probably relieved we're not a demanding bunch.
We are supposed to be down at the stage at 5:30 for an interview, to be followed by our sound check. Our interviewers are some of my new Facebook friends. The interview takes about 5 minutes then we settle back on the benches to wait for sound check. Evidently it was too hot earlier in the day to finish setting up the stage so things are running a bit behind. Two hours later we get sound check. The crew is very competent and wants very much to get the sound right for us as a film crew is on hand to tape our performance. For Dave, there is a nice Roland keyboard and a pristine 1961 Hammond B3 and Leslie speaker has been provided. For a moment I think he's going to cry with joy. There is a wide selection of amps for Andy, Rusty and I to choose from. A young man named Marco tells us some of the tube amps are hand built by a gentleman standing close by smiling. "they are very good," he tells us. At his suggestion I tell him I will use a small Dumble combo amp. Low, mid, high EQ, volume, input, and standby are hand lettered on the front panel - in Italian of course. Its a basic amp so it doesn't take long to decifer the wording. Its warm and squashy as only a tube amp can sound and my Tele sounds good through it.
Suddenly Dave yelps, grabs his arm and jumps back. Evidently there is a ground problem on one of the keyboard because he has gotten a jolt of 220 up his arm that hurts like hell. The crew swarms to fix the problem and Marco gets a jolt of it as well as they figure out where the problem spots are. Finally they connect a ground wire under a screw on the B3 which solves the problem for Dave but the rest of us are sternly warned not to touch either of his keyboards while holding guitars. We finally finish with sound check about 8 pm. Showtime is 10:30 and we have yet to eat dinner. Most of us skipped lunch because of the large dinner we had the previous night, so we are ravenously hungry. Back to the restaurant we go.
Dinner, day 2 July 15
I can't imagine that our fare will be this spectacular throughout our tour and Ado confirms this. "This is a special place," he says. Indeed it is. A magical, fairytale sort of place. Throughout our stay Rusty and I look at each other in amazement and wonder (wistfully) what it would be like to live in such a place. Less than 400 people inhabit this medieval village. We learn from a visiting Belgian lady that the castle is for sale - only 11 million euros. Hmmmm, need to play the lotto a little more often. An American from Baltimore tells me he has been bringing his family here for a month long visit for the past five years. He says they have tried everything imaginable, including offering the castle caretake a bribe to see the inside of the castle. It didn't work. Evidently the castle was locked up after the last owner lost his fortune funding a sports team. The property sits in limbo because the man fled to Santo Domingo after filing for bankruptcy. Since no one can find him, nothing can move forward.
Carafes of water and red wine appear on the table.
appetizer buffet - salad, more roasted/grilled vegetables, artichokes, beans, a platter of wafer thin beef strips topped with greens and shreds of parmagiano, bowls of polenta - sundried tomato flavor and the other is full of ingredients I can't identify but enjoy greatly. The restaurante is packed so I don't want to bother the staff asking questions. In the corner Michael Burks, his band and tour manager Manolo are having dinner. He has just arrived and looks as jet lagged as we must have the day before.
Three platters of pasta make up the main course. One is a rustic noodle dish with a gorgonzola cheese sauce which is delicious but filling. The second, egg noodles with a mushroom sauce. I love mushrooms. Connie rushes over when she sees me put a dab of mushroom sauce on my plate with a couple of egg noodles clinging to it. I think she feels bad I have only one pasta to try so a few minutes later a third platter of pillowy chunks of pasta in a tomato meat sauce (perhaps wild boar again) is delivered to the table. Tonight we are urged to try dessert, so we each order something. I ask for a recommendation on an egg-free dessert and am served a lovely creamy custard-y dessert topped with rich chocolate. (I think it probably has eggs in it but it is so delicious I don't care. I can live with a night of fibromyalgia for something this good. Ado orders expresso and Limoncella for all of us. Pete chooses to forgo the alcoholic beverages since he has never tasted alcohol and says it seems a shame to break that record now. It should be interesting doing a concert after such a filling meal.
Connie is very warm and likable, and always seems relaxed and unflappable. It appears she is confident in her team and she knows they are great at what they do. She tells us she cannot make it to our show as she will be working still at 10:30 and asks that we sing her a song. No problemo. We will also make sure a set of autographed CDs finds their way into her hands before we leave..
Much to our relief the stage is rigged with state of the art LED lighting - which means no additional heat on stage. By 10:30 the weather is as perfect as you could ever wish for. Too dry for mosquitoes, a balmy 75 degrees with a light breeze.
Torre Alfina Blues Band kicks off the show, playing rock classics and blues tunes. Very tight band. We could hear them from the hotel as we got ready for the show. Dave banged on the in the door - "Did you hear them kick off with Bad Company's Rock Steady?" When Rusty & I arrived they were playing Aerosmith's Sweet Emotion and they finished their set with Sweet Home Alabama.
By comparison, our set was a huge contrast - almost all original music. The show went great and the crowd was very enthusiastic. A film crew videotaped the show - multi-camera shoot & the audio crew was very attentive. They did a wonderful job. Michael Burks sat on the church steps listening to the first 5-6 songs before slipping away. Afterward we talked with people, went back to change clothes and then headed for the jam in a little square up in the village. It was 1 am and the whole town appeared to be there. Torre Alfina Blues Band playing again - more rock covers. People singing along... Rusty, Dave, Pete and I sat off to the side listening and smiling at our new friends, many of whom I'd connected with on Facebook before the start of the trip. Next thing we knew, Dave was asked to sit in on keyboards. He'd had a bit to drink. As they got ready to start the next song he turned to us in dismay and hollered "Oh crap! It's in the key of F#m and its an ORIGINAL tune!" Rusty and I busted out laughing. Rusty waved and shouted back "God be with you," still laughing. Dave did an impressive job of following along. Lots of improv, and even threw his leg up on the keys and did a credible Jerry Lee Lewis impression when El Presidente Carlo strapped on a gold top Gibson Les Paul and took off on Johnny B Good. Dave was still flailing on the keys when Rusty and I headed back to the room about 2:30. Ado promised to make sure he got back safely.
7-16-10
Needless to say, we were tired when we hit the road at 9:30 a.m., a six hour drive ahead of us. We are heading North of Milan to the Traveling Music Fest in San Lorenzo di Rovetta, located in the central Northern region of the country.
With the temp in excess of 100 degrees, the van is hot, hot, hot. The air conditioning doesn't work very well and doesn't reach past the front seat in any case so we opened every window that would open let the hot air blow in. Even the mountain region is experiencing a heat wave. In Italy, you have to have a license for air conditioning and many hotels are equipped with neither air conditioning or heat. Our lodgings for the night is a beautiful, secluded little resort that was once a gristmill. It is very beautiful in a rustic way, and from the window of our room we can hear the rush of water next to the building and see people fishing with cane poles at the well stocked trout pond.
A quick shower, then we head to the venue for sound check. Tonight's show is at a local festival. The stage is large and again, the audio crew is competent and dials in the sound quickly. Our back line for the night is to be provided by our opening act, Dr. Faust & the Traveling Boys, another tight cover band. The guys tease me that the amp I am to play through has more knobs than the space shuttle. Wish I'd taken a photo of it. It sounded good though. tonight Dave has a Nord keyboard rather than a B3. He has never played one and is curious to try it.
Back at the resort we meet downstairs for dinner in the outside dining area. Most of us order thin crust traditional pizzas baked in a wood fired pizza oven. Andy orders steak and Ado a seafood risotto dish.We have time for another shower (to cool off) and we head back to the festival where thousands of people are grooving to the cover band. There are food and drink vendors everywhere and vendors selling arts, crafts, clothing and jewelry - very similar to the community festivals in the US. People seem to enjoy the cover tunes and I can't help but wonder how our original music will go over. I need not have worried. We kicked ass. Major ass, and left the crowd screaming their approval.
The young guys in particular like Rusty's guitar playing. After we leave the stage a young guitar player - early 20s at most - bounds up and kisses me on both cheeks, shouts that he loves me and that he has never seen a woman guitarist who played "with an attitude." How funny. Bless Ado's heart. Our Italian savior politely intercedes when a tall, anorexic, Cleopatra-type woman decides she wouldn't mind sleeping with anyone/everyone in the band. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Ciao. Gotta go now. In fact, it is while trying to explain to "Cleo" that Rusty and I are married that I realized my wedding band wasn't on my finger. With some very unladylike words I jumped up from my seat, panicking. There is no way I was going to find it if it had slipped off my finger at the festival. Then I recalled hearing a strange 'ping' on the cobblestones as we were leaving our hotel. I glanced around but since I hadn't dropped any of the items I was carrying in my hands I forgot about it.
Ado agreed to take Rusty and I back to the hotel to look for my ring. On the ride back, Massimo, our tour promoter/agent checks in with Ado to see how the show went. We don't ask Ado exactly what he has reported to Massimo but have no reason to believe anything negative was said. We'd had a really good show and everyone. After dropping us off, Ado headed back to enjoy the festival with Dave, Andy and Pete and to drive them back to the hotel when they are ready. We search for a few minutes but it was too dark to really look for my ring so we decided to get up really early to search some more. I'm happy to report we found it in the morning.
Laurie's Travel Blog: RWB's Tour of Italy - Part II
7-17-10
Italy is soooooo beautiful. The region we are driving through is very mountainous with quite a few lakes and rivers. Quaint villages and cities line the shores and are tucked into breathtaking valleys. Our drive to the Gompm Alm Music Festival in the alps will take approximately 4 hours. Its another hot ride because an unusual heat wave has even hit the Northern mountain region.
Gompm Alm Fest is a camping event and appears to have more of a jam band vibe than a regular blues fest. We look forward to meeting Massimo, our Italian promoter today. Alligator recording artist Michael Burks is also on the bill and will be following our set. We are looking forward to doing a second show with him the following day at the Liri Blues Fest.
We are still in Italy, but you'd never know it. Most people speak German rather than Italian here in the Italian Alps and the architecture definitely leans more toward the German/Austrian side of things. Its also a bit of a shock to see a type of palm tree growing around the Bavarian-style buildings. All of our accomodations have been very nice. The Koning Haus is sleek and modern. There is no air conditioning as it is rarely HOT here in the mountains as it has been this week. We finally have wi-fi but it costs 4 euros (about $5) per hour. We have a lot of catching up to do so we pay for three hours.
Less than 90 minutes later we are showered and back in the van, on our way to the Gompm Alm Festival. It will take approximately an hour to reach the mountaintop festival site. It has to be close to 100 degrees in town, but we are told to bring jackets with us as it may get quite cold on the mountain after dark.
There is no easy way to get to the top. Miles of twisting hairpin curves and steep inclines. Leading our caravan is a festival staffer who has driven down to guide us up the mountain. Ahead of us is Michael Burks and his band. They are pulling a trailer full of gear. By the time we reach the festival site almost all of us are feeling a bit queasy from being jolted around and the stress of two-way traffic on a road wide enough for only a car and a half. Several times we had to inch our way around vehicles coming the opposite direction - sometimes there is only an inch or two to spare between the van tires and the edge of the cliff. At last the pavement ran out and the road got even narrower as it continued snaking up through the forest. Many festival goers have chosen to park below and take the cable car to the top but a surprising number have driven up, parking their vehicles in the woods and along the road and hiking the rest of the way.
It takes longer than anticipated to get to the festival site so we arrive late - a few minutes after our set is supposed to begin. Andy J. Forest from New Orleans has stretched his set until our arrival. We fling ourselves from the van, grabbing guitar cases and within a few minutes we're checking micrphone levels and tuning up. The crowd is mostly young, diverse and international. Some look like they've been camping there for a while already. Pup tents dot the landscape everywhere. In front of the stage is an awning that stretches out like a huge umbrella, which offers a little protection from the elements. The air is brisk - quite a contrast to the stifling heat at the base of the mountain. From the stage we could look out across the mountains. The wind is whipping and it appeared some black looking clouds were moving in. Massimo, our Italian promoter/agent is here to see us perform. It seems an odd choice, but he has eight separate tours running concurrently and this was his only opportunity to hear us. The crowd really seems to dig what we're playing. People are dancing and moving in close to the stage. It soon becomes apparent that Rusty's hollow-body guitar is not happy with the abrupt climate change. Normally the guitar stays true to pitch but today, he is having trouble, and has to quickly tweak the tuning between each song. While he tunes, a man calls an invitation to me that I am welcome to share his tent tonight. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. From the stage I laugh, thank him for the invitation but point out I don't think the guy with the long hair would appreciate it much if I did that.
Finally, in the middle of Robin Trower's "Day of the Eagle" his high E string snaps. He ends the song and we trade guitars and we finish out our set with me playing rythm on the Epiphone and Rusty playing my Telecaster. Tough for both of us because my strings are much lighter than his and each guitar has a very different feel and sound. I have to watch every note I am playing.
The rain hit as soon as we hit our last note. I feel terrible for Michael Burks and his band. They will have rain in addition to the cold wind blowing at them from the back of the stage. The weather doesn't seem to phase the festival goers though. Some hunker down under the umbrella awning and the rest ignore the rain and continue to guzzle beer in the pub area. We shove our guitars into cases and eventually make our way into the building, where Massimo joins us and starts ordering food and drinks for everyone. (yes, more food!) Outside, lightning and thunder rumble loudly, but inside the cozy two-story hiker's shelter there are platters of strong cheeses and cured meats, an unusual bread and the obligatory bottles of carbonated "fizzy" water, regular spring water (also called flat or naturale water) and of course, red wine in small stoneware pitchers. Massimo orders hamburgers, pizzas (with tuna - probably my least favorite dish thus far) and something sort of like a large dumpling that I can't even begin to describe. It tasted like stuffing, but each bite tastes a little different. They are extremely filling. After we finished eating Massimo orders tiny shots of cherry flavored Grapp for everyone. Grappa is really potent and tastes like moonshine if left unflavored. Somebody quickly grabbed Ado's and drank it. He has been drinking water and coffee. Grappa is the last thing he needs. He has to drive us back down that damn mountain.
Massimo picked up a nylon string guitar from a chair in the corner. It was missing a string but he plays well and soon Rusty and I were singing along as Massimo tore through Grand Funk Railroad's "I'm Your Captain." He said he felt GFR's contribution to rock music had been underrated. We told him our story about Farner performing for Doug Pullen's going away party, and also tell him that Mark and Leesia's son had been in a terrible accident. We haven't been able to get online so we haven't checked for an update on his condition but on the mountaintop I say a little prayer that the Farner family is getting the miracle they are hoping for.
Once business is taken care of, we finally get ready to head back down the mountain. This is one hedonistic bash. Everywhere you look, people are staggering. Many have stayed later than they planned to and have missed the last cable car down the mountain. A number of people beg us for a ride down to their cars. Away from the festival site its pitch black and few are carrying flashlights with them. As we pulled away Ado asked if we would mind giving a ride to a mother and daugher who had approached him for a lift. He felt he couldn't agree before asking us, so they had walked on ahead. Needless to say, they were extremely relieved when we pulled along side and told them to climb aboard. As we made our way back down we are boggled at the number of people (many of them intoxicated) who are trying to hike back down to their cars in the dark. We dropped the mom and her daughter at their car parked near the cable lift. She tells Ado there is an easier way to get back to town. They live not too far from the cable lift but she insists on climbing in her car and leading us down the mountain until we are close to our destination, and then she turned her car around and headed back up the mountain toward home.
The constant altitude changes and long rides have wreaked havoc on my body. My left foot is almost football size. My right foot only slightly smaller. All my joints ache and are swollen, as is my face. No one else seems to be having a problem. I am in constant pain and avoid the video cameras because my face is so swollen.
7-18-10
Our next stop is the Liri Blues Festival in Isola del Liri, one of the only cities on the planet with a waterfall in the center of the city. It is a nine-hour trip. Tonight we're opening for Alligator recording artist Michael Burks. We have less than two hours to rest and shower before we head to our sound check.
From the outside our hotel doesn't look like much. We check in and then a man leads us over to another building where our rooms are. From the outside I fear we've finally gotten a fleabag hotel. Once inside, we are relieved that our rooms are actually pretty nice. The air conditioning works well and there is a real TUB, rather than just a shower. I'm overheated, exhausted and fairly cranky. After a cool bath I laid down, spreading a towel across the pillow so my hair won't soak the pillow. When I wake up about 40 minutes later I have chenille textured stripes across my face. Lovely. Hopefully they'll fade before show time. The nap, air conditioning and bath have worked their magic and I feel 100% better than I did an hour earlier, although I'm still swollen almost beyond recognition. My biggest gripe is that I am out of hairspray. I have been looking for it at the roadside travel centers for tthe past two days. Ado will do anything for us, but somehow he doesn't grasp how much I crave this one hair product. Out of necessity we've been traveling with open car windows so perhaps he thinks my alternating finger-in-a-light-socket, windblown look or the sweaty, plastered-to-my-head look is what I normally look like, but for some reason we never get to a regular store and now there is no time to find any. Uck. Out of our entire tour, I would not have chosen this show to have a bad hair day. That's just the way things shake out sometimes though, and I've just got to roll with it.
The stage is set up about three blocks from the lovely waterfall in a piazza (town square). This is another serious stage, with more LED lighting. We have decent equipment to work with. Rusty has a Fender DeVille and I played through a vintage Fender Super Vibralux. For Dave there is a Kurzweil keyboard and a Hammond B3 - but the Leslie only spins at one speed. Ah well.
Most people stay indoors in the heat of the late afternoon, so there aren't many people roaming around town when we do soundcheck. A few curious passersby stop to listen but we quickly finish sound check and head to a restaurant for dinner. Because of the heat, Italy is a late night country. The cities come alive at 10 pm, and our shows typically start between 10 and 10:30 p.m. Michael Burks, bassist Oscar, drummer Popcorn and Wayne, the keyboard player have already arrived at the restuarant with Manolo, their tour manager.
Our server smiles shyly and apologizes for her poor English but she speaks better English than most of the people we have talked to thus far. She is friendly and soon loses her shyness in trying to communicate with us. white wine, water, bread with hummus, cold blanched snap peas, a cold salad made of beans, risotto and seafood. After the appetizers came a 4-cheese risotto, and after that came our "second plate." Rusty ordered veal, Dave a meatloaf dish with chunks of egg, Andy and Pete ordered a puckery lemon chicken, and I enjoyed chicken breast with white wine sauce.
The piazza is filled with people when we take the stage two hours later. The sound crew makes us sound like a million bucks and there are video cameras and photographers everywhere. Ado takes my camera so he can get pictures for us. Our energy level is off the charts and Rusty is having a great time playing and mugging for the audience. He and Dave throw down some seriously badass riffs during the improv sections and my rendition of Voodoo Woman goes over really well with the crowd of several thousand, who roar their approval after each song and press close to the stage. So much fun.
We autograph photos and CDs for at least an hour and try to meet as many people as possible - including more of my new Facebook friends who I have been communicating with for the past several weeks - all the while grooving to Michael Burks and his band, who are taking the people in the jam-packed piazza to another level. There is a frenzy of photo flashes when Michael steps down from the stage and walks through the crowd during an extended solo. I caught a shot of him myself as he made his way back to the stage.
Dave, Rusty and I make our way around the corner to a small bar and grab a drink. We talk with more people and pose for more photos with folks who later become our friends on Facebook. Such warm, friendly people. I wish the language barrier weren't quite so wide, but we manage to communicate on a very basic level - lots of smiles and handshakes and cheek kissing. I give guitar picks to some of the kids milling around backstage. Several teenage boys have volunteered as crew members for the festival.
"Maybe our band will play the Liri Blues Festival next year," one of them tells me. Learning that they are players, I give them the last of the guitar picks I have stashed in my pocket.
"I will use this pick if we play the festival next year," he tells me solemnly.
Standing side stage, Rusty mentions to Manolo that it would be fun to jam with Michael. He is shocked into silence when Manolo dashes off to confer with Michael between songs. Minutes later Rusty is strapping his guitar back on and he and Michael Burks trade licks for 30 minutes or so. At one point, Michael took a turn at the B3 while Rusty played, and then Dave jumped on the keyboard with Wayne. The crowd absolutely loves the two of them playing together and the roar is deafening when the show finally draws to a close.
Late into the night we linger, all of us musicians and the sound crew. Michael, Rusty and I have a long conversation about mutual friends, Southern cooking, promoters, venues and festivals, international touring, guitars, gear - you name it. After Rusty had thanked Michael for at least the third time for being so gracious, the Grammy award nominee tells Rusty he remembers how it felt to be snubbed and shut out by other musicians back when he was starting out. He asks to exchange contact info and tells us to call him if there's ever anything he can do for us. In-freaking-credible. You'd better believe we'll do everything in our power to promote his shows at every opportunity - especially when the band rolls through Michigan.
We have always gone out of our way to be open, cordial and helpful to musicians we have met on the road or on our own home turf. I'm sad to say that most of the time, the response to our friendliness is at best, a smirk and a nod, and at the worst, a chilly look and no response whatsoever. There have been times where we haven't had time to chat because we're under pressure to clear the stage quickly after the set, and I always feel bad afterward. I hope we never act like that. Ah well, like Santa Claus, we remember who's been naughty and who's been nice. And although we don't respond or acknowledge their actions, we always will remember those who have tried to halt or destroy our musical endeavors.
Its really late when we finally roll back to the hotel for a few hours' sleep.
7-19-10
We have the day off from performing but it is still a travel day. We drive to a hotel called Villa Fanini, located near Massimo's home base in Ascoli Picena. It is a nice hotel. The guys go into town to do laundry. I'm feeling pretty ill from the drives so I stay back at the room while the guys head into town to do laundry. After dinner we all try to catch up on our videos, photos and blogging.
Italy is soooooo beautiful. The region we are driving through is very mountainous with quite a few lakes and rivers. Quaint villages and cities line the shores and are tucked into breathtaking valleys. Our drive to the Gompm Alm Music Festival in the alps will take approximately 4 hours. Its another hot ride because an unusual heat wave has even hit the Northern mountain region.
Gompm Alm Fest is a camping event and appears to have more of a jam band vibe than a regular blues fest. We look forward to meeting Massimo, our Italian promoter today. Alligator recording artist Michael Burks is also on the bill and will be following our set. We are looking forward to doing a second show with him the following day at the Liri Blues Fest.
We are still in Italy, but you'd never know it. Most people speak German rather than Italian here in the Italian Alps and the architecture definitely leans more toward the German/Austrian side of things. Its also a bit of a shock to see a type of palm tree growing around the Bavarian-style buildings. All of our accomodations have been very nice. The Koning Haus is sleek and modern. There is no air conditioning as it is rarely HOT here in the mountains as it has been this week. We finally have wi-fi but it costs 4 euros (about $5) per hour. We have a lot of catching up to do so we pay for three hours.
Less than 90 minutes later we are showered and back in the van, on our way to the Gompm Alm Festival. It will take approximately an hour to reach the mountaintop festival site. It has to be close to 100 degrees in town, but we are told to bring jackets with us as it may get quite cold on the mountain after dark.
There is no easy way to get to the top. Miles of twisting hairpin curves and steep inclines. Leading our caravan is a festival staffer who has driven down to guide us up the mountain. Ahead of us is Michael Burks and his band. They are pulling a trailer full of gear. By the time we reach the festival site almost all of us are feeling a bit queasy from being jolted around and the stress of two-way traffic on a road wide enough for only a car and a half. Several times we had to inch our way around vehicles coming the opposite direction - sometimes there is only an inch or two to spare between the van tires and the edge of the cliff. At last the pavement ran out and the road got even narrower as it continued snaking up through the forest. Many festival goers have chosen to park below and take the cable car to the top but a surprising number have driven up, parking their vehicles in the woods and along the road and hiking the rest of the way.
It takes longer than anticipated to get to the festival site so we arrive late - a few minutes after our set is supposed to begin. Andy J. Forest from New Orleans has stretched his set until our arrival. We fling ourselves from the van, grabbing guitar cases and within a few minutes we're checking micrphone levels and tuning up. The crowd is mostly young, diverse and international. Some look like they've been camping there for a while already. Pup tents dot the landscape everywhere. In front of the stage is an awning that stretches out like a huge umbrella, which offers a little protection from the elements. The air is brisk - quite a contrast to the stifling heat at the base of the mountain. From the stage we could look out across the mountains. The wind is whipping and it appeared some black looking clouds were moving in. Massimo, our Italian promoter/agent is here to see us perform. It seems an odd choice, but he has eight separate tours running concurrently and this was his only opportunity to hear us. The crowd really seems to dig what we're playing. People are dancing and moving in close to the stage. It soon becomes apparent that Rusty's hollow-body guitar is not happy with the abrupt climate change. Normally the guitar stays true to pitch but today, he is having trouble, and has to quickly tweak the tuning between each song. While he tunes, a man calls an invitation to me that I am welcome to share his tent tonight. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. From the stage I laugh, thank him for the invitation but point out I don't think the guy with the long hair would appreciate it much if I did that.
Finally, in the middle of Robin Trower's "Day of the Eagle" his high E string snaps. He ends the song and we trade guitars and we finish out our set with me playing rythm on the Epiphone and Rusty playing my Telecaster. Tough for both of us because my strings are much lighter than his and each guitar has a very different feel and sound. I have to watch every note I am playing.
The rain hit as soon as we hit our last note. I feel terrible for Michael Burks and his band. They will have rain in addition to the cold wind blowing at them from the back of the stage. The weather doesn't seem to phase the festival goers though. Some hunker down under the umbrella awning and the rest ignore the rain and continue to guzzle beer in the pub area. We shove our guitars into cases and eventually make our way into the building, where Massimo joins us and starts ordering food and drinks for everyone. (yes, more food!) Outside, lightning and thunder rumble loudly, but inside the cozy two-story hiker's shelter there are platters of strong cheeses and cured meats, an unusual bread and the obligatory bottles of carbonated "fizzy" water, regular spring water (also called flat or naturale water) and of course, red wine in small stoneware pitchers. Massimo orders hamburgers, pizzas (with tuna - probably my least favorite dish thus far) and something sort of like a large dumpling that I can't even begin to describe. It tasted like stuffing, but each bite tastes a little different. They are extremely filling. After we finished eating Massimo orders tiny shots of cherry flavored Grapp for everyone. Grappa is really potent and tastes like moonshine if left unflavored. Somebody quickly grabbed Ado's and drank it. He has been drinking water and coffee. Grappa is the last thing he needs. He has to drive us back down that damn mountain.
Massimo picked up a nylon string guitar from a chair in the corner. It was missing a string but he plays well and soon Rusty and I were singing along as Massimo tore through Grand Funk Railroad's "I'm Your Captain." He said he felt GFR's contribution to rock music had been underrated. We told him our story about Farner performing for Doug Pullen's going away party, and also tell him that Mark and Leesia's son had been in a terrible accident. We haven't been able to get online so we haven't checked for an update on his condition but on the mountaintop I say a little prayer that the Farner family is getting the miracle they are hoping for.
Once business is taken care of, we finally get ready to head back down the mountain. This is one hedonistic bash. Everywhere you look, people are staggering. Many have stayed later than they planned to and have missed the last cable car down the mountain. A number of people beg us for a ride down to their cars. Away from the festival site its pitch black and few are carrying flashlights with them. As we pulled away Ado asked if we would mind giving a ride to a mother and daugher who had approached him for a lift. He felt he couldn't agree before asking us, so they had walked on ahead. Needless to say, they were extremely relieved when we pulled along side and told them to climb aboard. As we made our way back down we are boggled at the number of people (many of them intoxicated) who are trying to hike back down to their cars in the dark. We dropped the mom and her daughter at their car parked near the cable lift. She tells Ado there is an easier way to get back to town. They live not too far from the cable lift but she insists on climbing in her car and leading us down the mountain until we are close to our destination, and then she turned her car around and headed back up the mountain toward home.
The constant altitude changes and long rides have wreaked havoc on my body. My left foot is almost football size. My right foot only slightly smaller. All my joints ache and are swollen, as is my face. No one else seems to be having a problem. I am in constant pain and avoid the video cameras because my face is so swollen.
7-18-10
Our next stop is the Liri Blues Festival in Isola del Liri, one of the only cities on the planet with a waterfall in the center of the city. It is a nine-hour trip. Tonight we're opening for Alligator recording artist Michael Burks. We have less than two hours to rest and shower before we head to our sound check.
From the outside our hotel doesn't look like much. We check in and then a man leads us over to another building where our rooms are. From the outside I fear we've finally gotten a fleabag hotel. Once inside, we are relieved that our rooms are actually pretty nice. The air conditioning works well and there is a real TUB, rather than just a shower. I'm overheated, exhausted and fairly cranky. After a cool bath I laid down, spreading a towel across the pillow so my hair won't soak the pillow. When I wake up about 40 minutes later I have chenille textured stripes across my face. Lovely. Hopefully they'll fade before show time. The nap, air conditioning and bath have worked their magic and I feel 100% better than I did an hour earlier, although I'm still swollen almost beyond recognition. My biggest gripe is that I am out of hairspray. I have been looking for it at the roadside travel centers for tthe past two days. Ado will do anything for us, but somehow he doesn't grasp how much I crave this one hair product. Out of necessity we've been traveling with open car windows so perhaps he thinks my alternating finger-in-a-light-socket, windblown look or the sweaty, plastered-to-my-head look is what I normally look like, but for some reason we never get to a regular store and now there is no time to find any. Uck. Out of our entire tour, I would not have chosen this show to have a bad hair day. That's just the way things shake out sometimes though, and I've just got to roll with it.
The stage is set up about three blocks from the lovely waterfall in a piazza (town square). This is another serious stage, with more LED lighting. We have decent equipment to work with. Rusty has a Fender DeVille and I played through a vintage Fender Super Vibralux. For Dave there is a Kurzweil keyboard and a Hammond B3 - but the Leslie only spins at one speed. Ah well.
Most people stay indoors in the heat of the late afternoon, so there aren't many people roaming around town when we do soundcheck. A few curious passersby stop to listen but we quickly finish sound check and head to a restaurant for dinner. Because of the heat, Italy is a late night country. The cities come alive at 10 pm, and our shows typically start between 10 and 10:30 p.m. Michael Burks, bassist Oscar, drummer Popcorn and Wayne, the keyboard player have already arrived at the restuarant with Manolo, their tour manager.
Our server smiles shyly and apologizes for her poor English but she speaks better English than most of the people we have talked to thus far. She is friendly and soon loses her shyness in trying to communicate with us. white wine, water, bread with hummus, cold blanched snap peas, a cold salad made of beans, risotto and seafood. After the appetizers came a 4-cheese risotto, and after that came our "second plate." Rusty ordered veal, Dave a meatloaf dish with chunks of egg, Andy and Pete ordered a puckery lemon chicken, and I enjoyed chicken breast with white wine sauce.
The piazza is filled with people when we take the stage two hours later. The sound crew makes us sound like a million bucks and there are video cameras and photographers everywhere. Ado takes my camera so he can get pictures for us. Our energy level is off the charts and Rusty is having a great time playing and mugging for the audience. He and Dave throw down some seriously badass riffs during the improv sections and my rendition of Voodoo Woman goes over really well with the crowd of several thousand, who roar their approval after each song and press close to the stage. So much fun.
We autograph photos and CDs for at least an hour and try to meet as many people as possible - including more of my new Facebook friends who I have been communicating with for the past several weeks - all the while grooving to Michael Burks and his band, who are taking the people in the jam-packed piazza to another level. There is a frenzy of photo flashes when Michael steps down from the stage and walks through the crowd during an extended solo. I caught a shot of him myself as he made his way back to the stage.
Dave, Rusty and I make our way around the corner to a small bar and grab a drink. We talk with more people and pose for more photos with folks who later become our friends on Facebook. Such warm, friendly people. I wish the language barrier weren't quite so wide, but we manage to communicate on a very basic level - lots of smiles and handshakes and cheek kissing. I give guitar picks to some of the kids milling around backstage. Several teenage boys have volunteered as crew members for the festival.
"Maybe our band will play the Liri Blues Festival next year," one of them tells me. Learning that they are players, I give them the last of the guitar picks I have stashed in my pocket.
"I will use this pick if we play the festival next year," he tells me solemnly.
Standing side stage, Rusty mentions to Manolo that it would be fun to jam with Michael. He is shocked into silence when Manolo dashes off to confer with Michael between songs. Minutes later Rusty is strapping his guitar back on and he and Michael Burks trade licks for 30 minutes or so. At one point, Michael took a turn at the B3 while Rusty played, and then Dave jumped on the keyboard with Wayne. The crowd absolutely loves the two of them playing together and the roar is deafening when the show finally draws to a close.
Late into the night we linger, all of us musicians and the sound crew. Michael, Rusty and I have a long conversation about mutual friends, Southern cooking, promoters, venues and festivals, international touring, guitars, gear - you name it. After Rusty had thanked Michael for at least the third time for being so gracious, the Grammy award nominee tells Rusty he remembers how it felt to be snubbed and shut out by other musicians back when he was starting out. He asks to exchange contact info and tells us to call him if there's ever anything he can do for us. In-freaking-credible. You'd better believe we'll do everything in our power to promote his shows at every opportunity - especially when the band rolls through Michigan.
We have always gone out of our way to be open, cordial and helpful to musicians we have met on the road or on our own home turf. I'm sad to say that most of the time, the response to our friendliness is at best, a smirk and a nod, and at the worst, a chilly look and no response whatsoever. There have been times where we haven't had time to chat because we're under pressure to clear the stage quickly after the set, and I always feel bad afterward. I hope we never act like that. Ah well, like Santa Claus, we remember who's been naughty and who's been nice. And although we don't respond or acknowledge their actions, we always will remember those who have tried to halt or destroy our musical endeavors.
Its really late when we finally roll back to the hotel for a few hours' sleep.
7-19-10
We have the day off from performing but it is still a travel day. We drive to a hotel called Villa Fanini, located near Massimo's home base in Ascoli Picena. It is a nice hotel. The guys go into town to do laundry. I'm feeling pretty ill from the drives so I stay back at the room while the guys head into town to do laundry. After dinner we all try to catch up on our videos, photos and blogging.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)