“Go with Dave, Gus!” That’s what I think Eric was shouting last Sunday night when we found ourselves divided by a human, Euro-river, flood thing the likes of which I’d only ever seen on a studio monitor over the shoulder of an anchor girl on a hotel BBC world news report. My back hits the stone wall pretty hard. Not “time to panic” hard, but hard enough, I notice it. This particular street festival is not going to be “casual.” It is not going to be relaxing. No…rather it’s very old and politically charged, tonight is the night that the mob grabs the microphone and screams its lungs inside out. Add to that that this is the first night of Summer and the longest night of the year and you get the feeling that maybe there are even older Gods at work; constellations whispering shit back and forth, big stone eyeballs opening somewhere. It feels like we might be standing over a giant sun dial buried 100 feet beneath this square. Now the first of the Dragons start to appear and the mob begins jumping up and down in place, Gus is on my back (it’s all we got now) and we know we must begin jumping up and down with them, only dead men know what happens if you don’t.
On Saturday night (the night before) we rocked the shit out of a little box theatre north of Barcelona. We ended our performance by locking into the psycho strobe light throb of the “Rollin’ & Tumblin” riff and vanishing one by one. Right before I walked off, Gus and I looked at each other for a micro-second (he prolly didn’t even notice) but my mind took this weird picture, a physical memory or something?? I’m not sure what the hell it was? Same rhythm as the mob though.
Azkena is where they invented the black, rock n roll tee shirt. It’s a powerful music festival. I once saw Iggy climb the lighting rig there and I assume scare the shit out of whoever was backstage that really loves him. His simplicity was complete and stunning. There was 0 bullshitting going on. He was managing to starve the bullshit of oxygen so it couldn’t survive anywhere near where he was standing/singing/rolling around…not even where he was going. His band sounding like an off shore drill. Thump, sssss, thump.
Gus and Huck played wiffle ball in the hotel lobby at 4 am, I saw it from outside the glass doors right before we went out for Mahous and Pacharan. We even managed to convince a Bosnian Electronica DJ to knock it the hell off and play the Americanos some Frank Sinatra. Eventually he does and it sounds crazy good. I think even he is surprised. It is 6am now?
The Mountain Minstrelsy band is mega now, it’s growing up fast, a village band, family band. We are working on Europe for the Fall (all of Spain for sure.) We won’t last forever but we are not finished yet. Next stop is NYC, Philadelphia and Nashville. I wouldn’t wanna come on after us now.
Thanks to our fans in Espana and Basque Country! Xoxo thanks to Albert and the Azkena family, Oriol and Andrei, Miguel at Hostelets, the folks at Konvent Zero, The Scorpions for the bass (D#) Pappas, David and Oscar, Oscar Pamplona, Dr. Paul Murff.