THE GREAT PARK

3 hour train ride back to Lisbon from Porto - the thing is really rattling along, tinted windows, clackety-clack, but quiet and proper good train ride this is turning out to be. I do feel like a little more time here would have been ideal, but I’m looking forward to being back in Berlin with the kids. The carriage has a window at the back so I can stand there and watch the tracks curl away.

So, the second night at Vila Real, after a stressful day, turned out to be a lovely concert. Plenty of people, great sound, sitting down taking my time with the stuff. I played on the stage in the bar of a massive theatre complex with a couple of great rooms to play in - the folks there were welcoming and super friendly. Hope to be back.

(photos by Paulo)

If you’d like to hear this show you can download a recording of the complete concert - 13 songs, more than enough - from this link:

http://www.woodlandrecordings.com/thegreatpark240610.html

So after the show I got a brilliant tour of the whole place. We climbed to the very top - to the grid directly above the stage and stood on the metal frame high above the floor. Ropes and pulleys and winches for curtains and sets - vertigo from it. I am an expert at shitting myself at heights so was fun enough.

(photos by Paulo)

After all this I drove round the Vila Real street circuit a couple of times just to keep my hand in and the lap record up to speed. More than good enough, here you are:

We got home late and I slept heavy, full and a little later than I had wanted. Outside my window a woman was arguing with her husband in the field and I could hear the birds and smell the place so I wanted a little walk. Paulo showed me around the village - wandering and greeting folks, plenty of dogs.

Half an hour later and time for the taxi back to Vila Real and a bus a little way back down south to Porto. I had good company for the travel and a guide to Porto from Justyna, a lady from Poland who had been at the concert the night before and was in the spontaneous manner. We ate omelettes in the hot sun as soon as we arrived and then wandered round to the main square to watch Portugal draw level with Brazil. Thousands of locals seemed satisfied with this.

The town was very beautiful to me this afternoon, great shape to the streets and busy enough. Later we walked up the hill to Armazém Do Chá, a rockabilly bar open late. I was to be playing at 1am, supporting The Dixie Boys - I had no doubt this was going to be fun, if not the perfect setup for one of my concerts. I don’t mind the 1am start, and rockabilly is always brilliant for an hour or so - but a strange choice of support for them I think. Bet they thought so too. Anyway, the hotel was 20 metres from the front door so sure enough I played and it was noisy and fun, and then I danced for an hour, drank till 5 and we both crashed in the hotel for 4 hours.

Next morning train ride after great little breakfast in the most beautiful station, thick hot air in the countryside, Lisbon again and a drag of a flight back to Berlin. Early evening S-Bahn chaos, currywurst and pommes on the seat next to me, home of sorts. That’s all.

S.x

The Great Park

ps

Thank you to Alexandra and Paulo and everyone else on this little trip. Hope to see you again later in the year perhaps.

pps

Anyone in Hamburg want to give me a small concert this Sunday? House gig? Cafe? Garden? Fancy a visit you see and might as well mention it now. 

Sitting outside the theatre in Vila Real, north Portugal - have an hour of super hot sunshine burning action before heading off to eat. My head is the colour of a pork chop. I’ve driven up here from Lisbon - a 4 hour drive with Alexandra (my booking agent / tour manager / ‘driver’) flat out and complaining in the back, foot raised - reasons for this to come.

So - it’s been like this:

Up Tuesday morning early and sleepy with the mezzo-soprano 7-o-clock Schönhauser Allee, dozed to the airport and three hours south to sudden hot wind and thick Portuguese air. Alexandra, who has booked these shows with X-Productions, picks me up and drives lost and rapid through the city. People are sleeping in the shade, the buildings crumbled and tiled and flags everywhere. We park by the water and walk to the hotel and then find a brilliant cafe for fish and green wine. Somehow manage to pass 3 hours and of course drunk and sunburnt and the owner shows me the kitchen, proud of the place and his fresh sardines and snails. England are playing football on the small screen in the high corner of the room. They have very beautiful trams here.

(last two photos by Alexandra)

The venue, Lounge, seems to be run by folks from Hamburg - it’s a box of a room with a bar and nothing at all like a Lounge not even hardly. We struggle a little with the sound and then head off to watch more football in a strange Irish bar. On the way we meet Paul from Florida and he tells us his hard luck story but is optimistic and sincere with it. We share some more local beers, even though he keeps asking for Kilkenny, and Alexandra offers some sort of life advice whilst the Germans play on the screen.

More walking and up tiny streets to a super cool and lovely little restaurant for fantastic pork and olives and bread and simple good stuff. I fall in love with the waitress of course but she hasn’t even seen me come in and we leave and kind of tumble down the hill back to the town.

(photo by Alexandra)

So anyway, the concert isn’t too busy and I play and it kind of sucks as a show I suppose, but again and again it’s nice to play, lovely folks running the place and I’m happy to be there. Finish and then the place fills up and been drinking for 12 hours by now and Mário plays the most brilliant mix of old soul and psychedelic rock groovy stuff indeed. 

(photo of Mário by Alexandra)

So everyone is throwing themselves about and of course someone hot has the sexy dancing thing down to perfection, and she falls on me at the table and I don’t really stand a chance but it’s all friendly enough and I’m told the Portuguese way by about a dozen people who clearly know more than I. At one point she peels off her jeans to show me her tattoos and when I look around embarrassed enough everyone else in the room is checking things out too. I kind of worry about her as she leaves to be honest, it’s only natural - but I’m sure she’s a professional at how to have a good time here. 

Anyway, meet some truly lovely folks this night that I hope to see again. Thank you all for the welcome.

Later the evening is winding up and everyone is in great spirits when suddenly Alexandra hops back into the bar from outside moaning and crying about her foot. Seems she fell outside and can’t stand or even sit still but only complain and howl with pain. We all turn into expert foot doctors and her toes are moving but it is swelling up and she’s obviously done something fairly severe. We have to call a cab and ride the 500 metres back to the hotel and I carry her up the stairs and to her room and arrange for a few hours sleep and see what’s what in the morning. 

It’s like I’ve just climbed on to the bed when suddenly Alexandra is banging on the door with talk of driving the 200 miles up north to her hometown and the hospital there. 4 hours sleep, clearly drunk and I’m carrying her to the car and dreading negotiating the Lisbon traffic and all in this state. But there’s not much choice and nothing to it really, so she sleeps and stirs and I daydream in the hot sun for roads and roads and mountains and sun and the heat. 2 hours in and the car in front has no option at all but to hit the sandy coloured zippy fox that runs out right in front of him - I swerve wildly and miss everything but behind me people are braking and hitting the lovely thing and I guess it’s quick for him or something but it shakes me awake and even yet Alexandra sleeps right through and I’m horrified enough but fine.

So a pretty stressful time of it so far - and I spend the rest of the day (after this 4 hour trek in the sun) driving to the hospital, driving to the next venue, driving to hospital, driving to the house, driving to venue, driving to restaurant, driving to house, driving to venue - and these busy tiny roads and I don’t know the way so poor Paulo has to shout out directions and put up with my increasingly frayed edges. No one’s fault and nothing to be done for it but finally at 11 at night (with hardly even a thought about what to play or how to make it work) I get back to the venue to be told I’ve just 2 minutes before I have to start and suddenly I want to kill everyone.

More later.

S.x

The Great Park

Up nice and early, quick coffee and egg before train ride down to Leipzig.