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opening my eyes in granada .. glorious waking with this view and the wind whippin through (a rare hotel room like this has 2 windows that actually open in order to allow the jet stream to come in and provide bluster), sun bouncing off the delicate tiled walls bragging about the good reverb in here.
matt shows up for breakfast. i think he loves this place too. afterward (after ward ?) i isolate myself for a while to reassemble my crumble of pack. its been a while. laundry day is begging me to happen. the bag is a wreck, falling apart. only 4 weeks more to go.
we part from any form of tour management, respectively bandied by joan vich, and head out alone together, matt and i, to the airport. iberia fails to give me any sugar with my one world status. matt takes notes. apparently our mutual hobby is travel and the perks and allowances. today we deal with plebes.
once in madrid, we part and i head to my favorite hotel there. its right in the middle of all that chaos and crowd spunk, but is slightly hidden in plain site and very quiet in its particular parcel. no traffic. no noise. the keep giving me better and better rooms there when i check in. this time its over the top. a double room suite with wrap around balcony. its big enough to live in indefinitely. siesta time.
then a short walk to the teatro lara. a wonderful old theater strewn with old style balconies. my 3rd time here. fernando shows up with juan panki and anil. tonight we will have gypsy guitars in force.
it’s the usual thing, some kind of sound check and then no time to turn around much before the set commences. fine by me. we hang out at a local bar fitted with locals and old guys like me getting on and city soaked. the gypsies keep buying me ‘pony’ bottles. by the time i head back to the venue, am beer buzzed, something i don’t like anymore before a set. i crave to enjoy the clarity of sonic exchange.
but its ok. the surreal part is jelle is there now. matt has hired him to tour with him and do sound. he first met jelle when we took matt along to europe for the first time 10 years or so ago. now its time to play. i head up there on the narrow stage, adorned with tapered loden dagger shirt and dark blue pin striped linen suit jacket, dark gap jeans, and desert boots. my hat is from mexico. wide brim, short crown. made from palm. it shields the stage lights very nicely, and i can duck in out of it all when i tip my head down.
i play 4 songs or so on the martin. some new thing about being stuck at the border and some BBM stuff too. then i move over to the piano. its on fire tonight. i think the beer buzz has allowed some flow by eliminating the usual concerns of human restraints here on the planet. the piano stuff soars. i am surprised how well i am playing.
then after those 5 songs, i welcome up the gypsies y fernando. juan panki is playing very very well tonight without having to hold back. anil is rockin on cajon. and fernando is wearing his new ‘arizona feeds’ hat and playing in the pocket nicely. after those 3 songs, i think we’re done. a fine full meal of 3 courses in sonic digestion.
back stage everyone is happy. the women seem more beautiful too. matt gets up next and fills the hall with his mercurial voice and excellent strum. for the encore, we all straggle the stage, gypsy encoded, and finish up with “wolfy” and “wayfaring stranger”.
again a great show in madrid. it has never failed there. every time.
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so we all head out to the streets. some bar will stay open for us all to quietly congregate. it’s a mellow monday midnight for madrid. that suits me fine. but then i straddle off and leave fernando and posse to carry on. my penthouse is calling my name. a weariness has set in.
when i get to the hotel, i am all done in. opt for the old wooden and crystal glass elevator instead of the modern one. up to the 5th floor.
home.
crash.
deep.