Friday, July 31, 2009

Roam

In the middle of Berlin, I find myself in a strange situation.

I can either go out with a few people who are doing me a patronizing favour almost by taking me out, or I can stay home and write, or I can go out and explore and get lost in this city with an unfamiliar language; all by myself.

I'm choosing option C and will probably write about it in my next post.

I would like to thank my father who always told me to never kiss anyone's ass. And I would like to thank my mother who always told me to never accept a last-minute invitation. It's a form of patronizing that the world can do without.

Thanks folks.

Next post: getting lost in Berlin.

Europe and other things

I'm in Europe for the first time in my life. I've seen Berlin, Germany and Annecy, France. I've explored certain historical areas and I've spent a good few days and nights in the French Alps swimming in a lake where the water was clear and absolutely rejuvenating.

Next I'll be in Nuremburg, but only for a few days.

I am in-love with Europe, what a difference from North America. Everything has a history to it. Everything! There's so much to see and do that I've hardly slept and now I'm suffering with insomnia, but I'm sure I'll catch up on sleep sometime.

In the midst of all this I am homesick and I look forward to returning to Trinidad.

I've been on the road off and on for 6 weeks now and I miss having my own bed. Silly isn't it? But be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

I look forward to the plane ride back to Trinidad.

Friday, July 17, 2009

The air is electric

I'm writing this at 3.49AM. I'm writing before I forget to mention this again. This is gonna sound weird, but....

Sometimes while on stage, (it hasn't happened that often, maybe about 5 times in total in my entire live musical career of 19 years) a strange thing will happen, the band will be playing and all of a sudden, the entire vibe on stage just elevates.

We're all still there, but there's almost an invisible chain reaction and reciprocation between us and the crowd and I'm pretty sure we can all feel it. It's like this this amazing rush of energy and the sound just gets 100 times fuller, almost as if we're hearing ourselves in surround sound.

The crowd jut seems that much more alive, and we in turn play 10 times better. It's very hard to describe, but it's almost as if an energy wave is passing between us and the crowd. We're feeding off each other and the energy field is growing.

I can't quantify it, all I know is that my hair stands on my head, I am totally aware of everything around me, my pores raise and I swear I'm standing off the ground. I have never felt anything like this in my entire life. It is a rush, but only lasts for a few minutes at best.

It is a rare gift, but a treasured one. It is the miracle of music. That's all I can sum it up as - a miracle.

Can a feeling die?

Since I'm still up and since I'm still in a writing mood, I have a question that has been on my mind recently.

Here goes: If over a period of time a certain experience or situation is absent from one's life, does that mean that any feelings associated with that situation becomes so foreign to that said person that the feelings die?

I'm just curious? And perhaps maybe just a lil bit worried.

2.39AM on a Friday morning

We fly to Yellowknife at 6.30AM. So I've decided to not sleep, surely a brilliant idea I tell you.

Now my eyes are popping out of my head and my typing is terrible.

What am I writing to say? This summer's music traveling experiences have been going great, it's the days off that I find hard to cope with. Music is a drug and when it is all over, there are withdrawal symptoms. I rack my brain most days with what to do. And in the end the fear of wasting a day drives me to get out and about and see this city like I never did before.

I'm not burning down the city exploring every nook and cranny, but I sure am looking at everything with a renewed sense of awe. I'm in awe that I actually lived here, it was only last year that I was living here.

I don't think I could live here again, the city's solitude still screams at me. But in the background I hear the ocean waves of home, and it gives me a sense of peace knowing I'll be back there soon.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Trying to keep busy while on tour/road tripping

Things have a way of not turning out how we expect and it is hard in the face of adversity to make the most of things.

I am faced with a certain reality here, that while everyone else is working, I am here on a sort-of work/vacation. I have gigs on the weekend but a good many days off during the week....so what do I do?

I have to occupy my mind and pretend to be a tourist in a city I once lived, because the devil really does find use for idle hands by making us MORE IDLE.

It is strange, but it is as if I'm seeing this city for the first time, maybe all the years I lived here I was just merely existing and not living with the city. I don't know, it is hard to qualify.

But is it possible for the same place to be viewed a number of different ways over a certain indefinite period of time?

If so, then what an experience this is.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

On the other side of the world

Well I'm on tour with Kobo Town. We're in Iqaluit, Nunavut - Canada's artic. It's still cold and and there's sun throughout the day. We've had tragedy struck us, our leader's father has died from what appears to be a heart attack. It's weird to know this and to be playing shows.

The gigs are over and after the funeral the tour will continue. But it is so strange to be here, knowing that we must go on, even in the face of this sudden loss.

I am also amazed at the people here, mostly Inuit, they look at us knowing fully well we're not from here and it is strange. The ground is still frozen and houses have very unusual shapes as they are all built on stilts. Still the people here are warm and inquisitive.

This is definitely an experience.