Gig Report

[Jay Vaughan]

The journey started with us early arrivals assembling on all fronts .. I myself beginning the couch-surf adventure in the heights atop dear JoostSch's perchy Den Haag launchpad, joined shortly after in the battle for cat-hair supremacy by Micke, The Swede.  We three, after a day of pre-pre- jamming, formed a new band, and spent a few minutes here and there doing what bands never do which is sort out the cables.  With nought but a notion that Micke, The Swede's noodlings where indeed sweet, and faith in JoostSch's ability to tweak and stroke and fumble and furrow all sorts of sonic-adventure out there, we sped off towards the Gert Zone on a train-ride that was alas, for the itinerant napper, too short.  We got there.

Gert, our Galactic Emperor, had arranged for all his various tribal conquests to present their legion, and present they did!  In a small nondescript jam room atop a dusty work shed in a place that has some address like no-name industrial strip-park #whatever, Wageningen, The Netherlands.  Nope, that's not right.  Oh yeah: the Jam room was called NUDEPARK! No better Omen! As we made our way into the very room of our deliverance, we noticed with interest the entirely tiny mixer.  Good thing we got the cable-thingy sorted!  So, myself and Micke, The Swede, Joost .. got set up.  iPad-instruments, Korgs new splork thingies, and .. not much else gear wise.  We played a little warmup, clashed on what to play a bit, plugged in, and promptly got scolded at.  First jam for the band, sorted!

So while we sat out and chilled to let the process continue, Mr. Zacherl managed to give me the real whillies!  I had not previously properly acquainted myself with his .. instrument .. and when I was taught the glory of its ways I felt as if I'd been teleported directly into the scene right at the beginning of the show, or maybe on the poster, of a film about some alien death device in the hands of a religious maniac!  Well, thats the thought I had as I witnessed his first warmup at the NUDEPARK, and I'm sure the lighting of the place had nothing to do with the zany, crazy, energy of his punishment.  It was, and I mean it sincerely, awe-inspiring.  Right, methinks, this gig is going to be tremendous.  Especially knowing that we had Gert and Perry on our side as well!

The next day, Friday was it?  I don't recall amid all the waving-around of eyelids that seem to imply sleep occurred.  It wasn't needed: the second jam was enough folic sustenance for days, as this time round we were joined by the lord of thumping and bumping and plucking and stroking and all things you can do with the space in between and with, string and the wood, the much loved Tony Hardie-Bick.  He proceeded to astound and befuddle.  Oh, the second jam did proceed indeed, but I can tell you that at this point it was certainly a soiree, too.  The arrivals of the day, Romain, Mohsen, the families, Marek, Geezer, well .. the whole thing snowballed.  We had some music-making in there among all the new acquaintance'ing that was going on.  There was some sort of conclusion by the Emperor that, indeed, we did have enough music for the evening, and it was all going to be all right, and thats all we needed, so off for some more eyelid waving we went.

So, Saturday .. it was suddenly Saturday.  To find oneself in the historic streets of Wageningen, unburdened by much at all but the desire to get through the Emperors Music Program for the evening, was a delicate, personal joy.  War, music: whatever we wage, it seems to start with a list.  Drijfzand, Jay, Joost, Micke, Michael Z., Rolf, Tony HB, Mohsen, Diphtong, Ducoanella, Understate Men, Tony Scharf, Rolf, Romain, Tom, PunkDISCO, Geezer, Rene .. there were some unknowns in that list.  Well, we started anyway, because the knowns were itchy and the time had come to scratch.

Gert kicked it off, two nice tracks (with noodle), and Rolf doing the graphics.  We had graphics!  In fact, Rolf slowly applied his mad vid skills to the evolving picture all evening, he was most definitely The Light Guy!  Spirited Projection!  Music-Bar Band #157 came on (thats us) and in spite of JoostSch's late arrival we somehow managed to not screw things up!!  Gert was even amazed!  He was actually really amazed!  The amazement on his face, as he approached the stage, was definitely a bit shocking .. thrilling .. turning to un-bridled joy at his "Is this you guys?  Is this really you guys making this wonderful music?  Were you pulling my leg at the jams?" statement of disbelief.  Hah hah, well .. as we do, Music-Bar Band #157 just went along with it.

So then Mr. Z brought his electronic whip to the rodeo.  Its still the afternoon, remember, the threat of rain isn't really stopping the lovely Dutch from enjoying their street life, but actually the place is starting to fill.  I hear a lot of "Hi Gert, Happy Birthday"'s in the background but I'm not really tuning in to the newcomers.  Mr. Z has begun the terrorising, and .. its working .. enchantment all around.  Sudden dreaming, I would call it.  He and Rolf, the Light Master, are engaged in a confluence, and the feedback loop between them is starting to be clearly constructed with intent to distribute .. something is being constructed here, some shape of destiny, a geometry, yielded by those who would rather just take a chance.  We didn't know we could go so far by 7pm, but we did!

While all this is going on, more of the troops are mustering, and I ask Gert how he's going.  Big thumps up and the trademark grin!  So on with the show, and Mr. Hardie-Bick gets the stage.  At which point he rolls it over, spanks out the bugs, gives it a new gloss, and installs it in the decks of some luxury cruise-liner that's been parked, for tax reasons, in the back of a quarry.  Waiting, ever, for the flood.  Floating along when it happens for no chance reason, serendipity delivers the luxury cruiser, and Mr. Hardy-Bick its Captain to sunnier, worthier, windy seas.  He and his stick alone is all it took to get the sails afloat.

So now .. afternoon set completed .. We take a small break, and among the audience - and indeed there is an audience - suddenly appear Paul and Leah.  All day we had been having calls of "so-and-so is here!" and "such and such are arriving in a few minutes", but no such frisson as the sizzle among the -bar cognoscenti which occurred upon the installation of PunkDISCO among us.  And oh so smooth.  Damn.  Not to be fooled by their humble admission of nerves, smitten as I was, I turned back to the stage and realised that the show was actually, going to be a damn good one.  So, it was pause, we had got the afternoon program completed.  People walking by in the streets were sniffing, there was interest .. and truly great music going on .. and .. the show had started! 

Just the mid-section to go next, and then the later-evening. Another check of the Emperor, and I realise I'm now in uncharted territories .. Diphtong, Duocanella, Understate Men.  Who were these people?  I only recognised one name in the list for the mid-section of The Program, and that was the Tony Scharf tune-in, which I had to somehow wire up.  Hmm .. A word with Gert, and he's got it all under the control: the strangers are of course all his old friends!  He'll start to get them together so .. Time to well .. Tune In Tony Scharf!  Do You Read Me, Over .. pause .. actually, Yes. Tony Scharf, all tuned in.  All the way from actual America, digitally streaming us his mental and musical coordinates through a series of demonstrations of analog placement of the digits.  A few buffering problems notwithstanding, the remote Artist got a fair bit of applause, which I hope the archives of the event eventually deliver to their rightful owner..  So .. up they went, Gert's old friends, somewhat strangers to the new friends and probably vice versa .. a true colliding of planetary orbital systems .. Diphtong, doing acoustic Americana as if, indeed, he'd lived it all his life (or perhaps 10 other previous lives), seriously slicking the soul as only a boy borne of dirty dutch song tradition can deliver!  It had all the pickings.  Duocanella, a no show alas.. Understate Men .. really pleasing the Loburg crowd, actually, people coming to listen and drink.  Gerts' old friends doing what they'd been doing for years: making great music.  Gerts new friends, also.  Definitely a binary system in operation, swinging and beating and humming along .. some of us there, some of us not, but all of us making music for all ages, and many lives.

Truth be told, the mid-section of the evening part of The Program is a bit of a blur to me now. I'm probably missing significant detail of some event I should've been prepared to recount, but .. its just a big shape now.  A warm, glowing shape.  I distinctly remember having the thought that I had to remember that, one day, maybe I'll have the balls to get up on stage like Renee did and sing a medley to a loved one, his dear friend Gert.  That was truly sweet, of the hearty kind.  But by this point, the music and the booze had delivered me into the arms of the muse, and muse I did.  I mused that, if I'd just walked in on this bar in the evening, as it were, and if it weren't by invitation, I'd nevertheless be impressed at what was going on, full-steam ahead, in front of me.  I'd probably buy a beer, and tune in to all the people who clearly know each other, seemingly pretty well.  And, as I know myself, I'd probably have observed that this was a full-blown celebration of the life of music.  That you can watch music change, over and again, and it'll never get boring.  The thought that, simply, music grows.  That you can watch a musician, like a child, grow.  That the Dutch have no problems bringing their 14-year old kids to get up on stage at a bar full of drinking souls to demonstrate his new-found abilities at composition.  Now *that* is some serious compassionful society.  Give everybody a big hug!, I'd be thinking.  Or, was thinking, while I watched Captain H-B, Mr. Z the man with the Star Whip, and Rolf, Light Master, do another round for a while.  And after a while, for quite a while longer.  Captain H-B had promised me, in that extraordinary way he has of being precisely in tune with everything, that .. if needed .. he'd play for a while .. a longer, more lulling set, perhaps, before we get the storms of passion unleashed upon us as the night matures.

And also, that was before we were allowed to turn it up loud.

Shortly, after we were allowed to turn it up loud, we let Romain and Tom do the honours.  After watching them set up and proceed to do what can only be described as one of the longest warmups of the evening (headphones), I was very eager to understand what I was about to witness.. they had a *lot* of gear, but it was absolutely, every singe bit of it, necessary.  When they kicked off the late-night set of beats, wicked melody, and serious prowess over every single cable, we realised we suddenly had a *lot* of genius to get through that evening .. and it was the good kind.  The kind you want to have on while you're trying to talk to someone nice, letting the music discuss politics so you don't have to, and can just look longingly into her .. well.  Yeah.  Sexy, intelligent, loud music.  A bit long, perhaps, but given the nature of the journey, the hill was given over - so to speak - to the skies.

And then, speaking of sexy, but more like shouting it SEXY! from the top of a party bus loaded full of half-naked German tourists blitzkrieging through Rio De Janeiro on a Friday afternoon, we suddenly had what we'd been waiting for: PunkDISCO!  PUNKDISCO!  Terrifyingly great - like, seriously terrific, great, and terrifying in a big juicy sandwich of love.  The clear love between the two of them was visible at The Very Moment Before The Storm, that one you always witness when you see so-called first-timers (as if!) get to the stage and stifle the jimmies with a glance, a smile, a smirk between them.  But in this case I'd observed what I personally think is Some Real Love, albeit through the cosmic distance between where I was standing, watching in awe, as they were about to just BEGIN their set, among the love was something .. some form of .. incestuousness?  They knew something, these pearls of the vine, these gods of the stars.  Well, we soon all became enlightened, let me just tell you, because PunkDISCO ROCKED THE HOUSE DOWN with their punishing loveliness.  The solid world opened and throughout poured electric passion.  Leah was punishing me with her lyrics, I'm quite sure of it, for loving every single particle of her being.  Yes, she seems to say .. you can look at my ass while I sing you a tale you should pay more attention to..  But I'm going to make you want it so much that you're going to wish you could love something else than my ass, my curves, for a while.  Something .. out there .. something lurking and sneaky that you probably didn't notice at first, while basking in glorious ass.  Something .. like: THE MUSIC ITSELF.  Oh God, the music, on its own, in a world without Leah .. it'd be enough, not quite .. but .. enough so .. Paul .. ah .. stop it you're going to make me .. ah .. yikes .. and so I'm passed over, used again, back and forth between these thugs, simply loving it.  The lyrics suddenly get me, and I just give in and get all the appendages shaken.  You simply can't get penetrated like that without just giving up and having the fun you're supposed to be having.  I'll admit, I may just give up music-making entirely and just content myself with a subscription to whatever PunkDISCO get up to, next.  We all need a Leah Soft-Synth, and bad.

Well, anyway .. a last check on Gert: yes indeed, I think he's got a serious case of smittens too, so thats a good thing.  I think everyone has it, by now, a case of the smittens.

Which is a good time to bring on the DJ - Geezer!  From .. Poland?  Not sure, but the accent doesn't matter when the words are clear and the word, by this point, was writ large: party!  Not having ever met, but heard-of DJ Geezer, I was content knowing that the party we needed right about then was being served on platters by our worthiest chef.  But then, soon .. it was the end.  We made it.  Along the way we fared quite well. At least, I felt a booty.  People danced, we talked, we marvelled at the light, we met new old friends, we met old, new friends, we talked about things we never talk about really, as the world turns, for once.  We celebrated Gert.

Thank you, Gert, for bringing it all together!  It is a fond memory, not to be distant for quite a while I'm sure.

j.