Playing in Prison

It has been a long time since I left an entry. We had a bit of a hiatus from the stage, but we came back with a bang!

We hit the road to Alicante (down the coast from Barcelona. About a 5 1/2 hour drive). We knew the plan was to play in a prison, but we had no idea what it would be like. I had never actually been inside a real prison and was nervous just thinking about it. Especially as a foreigner playing flamenco in Spain...

The first detail we found out upon arrival (at 9AM, no late night shows in the lockup...) was that it was not a 'normal' prison. It was a psychiatric prison. Or in other words: a jail for the criminally insane. My heart started racing a bit as we came up to the entrance. I have worked with the homeless and serious drug users in the past, but the criminally insane, well, I didn't know what to expect.

The director, a woman by the name of Amaya, met us at the entrance and our vehicle was escorted inside. The 30 foot tall steel gates closed behind. I had a bit of a chill go up my spine. Two big guards came out to help us with our equipment and we started to unload.

Just then a group of female inmates walked by. They were the first contact we had with the prison population. Many were obviously drugged and sedated, but others seemed lucid, but well, a bit disturbed. We asked what the ratio of men to women was and Amaya said that it was 9 to 1, but that 'the women who crack, go down much harder and faster than the men'. They hooted and hollered at us a bit, but were quickly ordered to be on their way. (The women were not allowed to come to the performance because security was worried they would become 'agitated').

We walked through a couple more gates that we had to be buzzed through and walked into the main courtyard. There were a few prisoners milling about, smoking cigarettes like there was no tomorrow. There were two prisoners waiting for us by the stage to help us move things around. These guys seemed pretty under control, but we were still a bit nervous about them handling our gear, so we told them we had it under control and they just sat back and watched.

As the hour to start approached the seats in the little theater filled up. There were men from the ages of early 20s to 60s. Some were medicated or out of it to the point of drooling. Others seemed relatively normal. There were only a few who looked excited, but we started up and after the first song there was at least some good energy in the room.

After a couple songs about half of the population was standing at the door smoking. They were listening, but I guess living without a cigarette for that long was not an option. Of the 100 or so present there were about five guys who were clapping along, and even a couple got up and were dancing. This made the guards nervous, but they allowed it.

We played for about an hour and a half in what, I felt like, was a good set. We knew that this crowd would be tough, but we got them interested and some of them were even inspired. After we finished two inmates asked if they could sing or read poetry. We certainly had no problem with it, we asked the guards and the director and they said it was fine. The first inmate (pictured above with the sun glasses) got up and sang acapella some classic flamenco songs. He had his good moments and some bad ones as well, but he was so happy to have the opportunity. The second (also pictured above) was our most enthusiastic supporter. He was one of the dancers and, especially in the loud and fast moments, was up and moving. He got up read some poetry and sang some classic Spanish flamenco and rock songs. This got some of the other inmates involved and made us happy to bring a moment of joy into their lives.

While these inmates were performing, another one kind of latched on to me. He told me that he wanted to learn how to play the bass, how he shouldn't be in here, how he only had a gram of cocaine. All of this was pretty normal, except that he was 5 inches from my face when he talked. His eyes were dilated (I don't know if this is from his meds or something smuggled in) and he looked really intimidating. I guess this was his normal MO because nobody was really showing any concern. He asked me comparative questions like: Who do you like better Sting or Bob Dylan? Or Led Zeppelin or the Rolling Stones? And he said some pretty funny things as well like: Australians are the strongest people in the world. They eat 22 bananas a day and drink 5 liters of water! Hey, who am I to argue. I just agreed and wiped the spittle off my face.

I also met a huge Palestinian prisoner. He was very helpful and followed us around showing us the different parts of the prison. He escorted us to the arts workshop where the prisoners made some pretty amazing paintings and sculptures. This, I thought, must be such an escape for some of these guys. Amaya introduced us to a few prisoners who had never done anything artistic in their lives, but 'inside' discovered they had tremendous talent. The Palestinian was one of them. I had this urge to tell him that I am half-Jewish and that I support a Palestinian state, but I decided to say that I was North American instead. He kind of froze at the mention of Palestine and scurried off. I guess I touched a nerve. I am glad that I didn't touch more than that because he was a very large criminally insane human.

Quite a few prisoners told me they only had a few months left, including '5 inches from my face' guy. Some had been there 5 years, others 15. I wondered if they really just let these guys out on the street or if there is follow-up. I asked and they said there is, but that many of them slip through the cracks because the system is overloaded. Great.

There was also another prisoner that told me that even though he had been there for 15 years he was free. Sure, his body was trapped, but he said he was able to escape in his mind to the outside. I wondered what drugs he was taking.

As we were leaving the prison cellblock some of the same ladies passed us again and one of them stopped Diego and insisted that she knew him. 'Aren’t you so and so's cousin, etc.' She would not let it go that they had never met and it took a strong urging from one of the guards for her to be on her way. She stubbornly agreed after blowing a kiss. That was the last we saw of the inmates.

As the gates closed behind us I had a sense of relief. I couldn't imagine staying in there for a night, let alone years. It was all kind of surreal, especially loading out from a concert at 12 PM.

We went for lunch with the prison director and she invited us back to her house. She had an amazing garden filled with pomegranate trees. Pol and I decided to take advantage and lay down for a siesta in the garden. I woke up refreshed and glad to know that I have my physical freedom. Still working on that mental part though...

GREAT SPANISH BANDS

Here is a list of bands and albums that I have heard here from the past and present that I think are worth taking a listen (and some are classics that should be honored forever):

Camarón - La Leyenda del Tiempo
Camarón - Calle Real
Paco de Lucia - Entre Dos Aguas
Pata Negra - Blues de la Frontera
Javier Ruibal - Pensión Triana
Triana - El Patio
Calima - Azul
Triando - A Nuestro Aire

Just a few to get you started...

Un Salud Flamenco!

Kassel, Germany

When we got on the airplane in Girona a dream of mine was realized. I was starting my first international tour to a strange land where a new language, an international music festival and a weekend of new experiences awaited us. The trip was especially important for me as my father was visiting and accompanied us on the journey. He had not seen this group perform in concert and his first taste would be at a huge festival in Germany.

Unfortunately, the airline was not prepared for a band of travelling minstrels and did not have space for our instruments. I ended up having Diego's guitar and my bass strapped next to me in a seat. The cheap airfare experience was made worse by the blasting in three languages (Spanish, German and English) of advertisements halfway through the flight for credit cards and frequent flier miles. Even so, we made it to Frankfurt in good spirits and our driver, 'Tillman', was waiting with a huge industrial sized van to take us to the city of Kassel.

After three and a half hours of my dad and Diego forcefully encouraging Tillman to keep his eyes on the road (the best of which was Diego, in broken English, explaining that he wanted to see his son again, so please drive carefully) we made it. He took us to a great Turkish lunch spot where we all ordered big German beers and then to the hotel. The Hotel Astoria was simple, but elegant and our rooms looked out over the ancient church, one of the only buildings that survived the WWII bombings by the Americans.

We were flown in for the first day of the festival, but were not scheduled to perform until the second night. We were taken from the hotel to the theater to watch the evening’s performances. As we arrived one of the organizers escorted us back stage by and, wow, what a spread! All the drinks and food you could want, a private room for us and musicians everywhere. The festival chose a country each year to be the focus and this year Spain was the featured act. So, we get to Germany and there are Spanish musicians everywhere!

After some great music from Anabel Santiago and Rafael Cortés, we headed out to a tapas bar called El Gitano (The Gypsy) and had a jam session with Diego's uncle and some other local musicians. Great fun, but I was ready to get some rest in prep for our show the next night.

I could not sleep though. I was restless. I saw the crowd the night before and it was a packed house. The Germans seemed to be very receptive to the other groups, but how would they find us in comparison? We had an intense practice in the afternoon to iron out any wrinkles in the repertoire. We were ready, but the butterflies were slam dancing in my stomach. I went back to the hotel with dad, tried to take a nap, but it wasn't happening. I did yoga, I paced, I took a walk, but the reality was I was more nervous than I had ever been for a concert.

Diego opened it up solo with a beautiful flamenco classic, 'Mariposa Blanca' as we peeked from behind the curtains at the faces in the crowd and giggled with excitement. For me though, the nervous feeling shifted as I stepped on stage. We blazed through a couple songs and the butterflies changed into my power animal. The crowd absolutely loved it! By the end we had them in the aisles dancing (and from what I can tell of Germans in general, this is hard to do) and shouting for more. What a feeling! It is actually addictive to feel a crowd erupt after laying your heart out playing and singing. I can attest.

We left the next day, the organizer of the festival saying that in years he hadn't heard anything so powerful and moving. We hope and pray to return to Germany where were treated not only with respect as artists, but with admiration as musicians.

John McCain vs. Barack Obama VOTE AMERICANS!!!! PLEASE!!!

Madrid, Center of the Spanish Universe

We set off for Madrid squeezed into the van with all our equipment and aspirations of big things. If there were ears that needed to hear the group, they were in Madrid. I was excited, as always, to travel to a new place and play shows. This was second tour and another three shows in three nights.

We stayed with Diego's sister who, as soon as we arrived, set us up with piles of tasty meat and vegetables, homemade deserts and many funny stories about Diego's childhood. After a great meal and many laughs we headed out to our first show...

We played at a club called 'Colonial Norte'. It was located at the old central train station that had been converted into what back home would be called a 'mall'. A large, old elegant building remodeled and filled with clothing stores and restaurants. At one end of the building was our club.

The stage was mediocre and the crowd pretty small, but good sized for a Thursday (according to the owner) and very receptive. Being a Thursday also prevented some of the members of the band from making this show. They had to work on Friday and would be showing up for the last two gigs. We were: Diego Paqué (flamenco guitar and vocals), Gorka Lasa (keys and backup vocals), Josep Mascaró (violin), Pol Sabata (percussion), and me (bass and backup vocals). We played well in this format and I think it set the stage for the coming shows.

We had a couple drinks and then, after we all agreed that we needed to save ourselves for the next two nights, we headed back to Diego's sister's house and crashed. Pol, the percussionist, and I were placed in the kids' bedroom, a fifteen year old metal head and an 8 year old princess. Needless to say each side of the room was decorated differently...I slept in metalhead's bed, a poster of Sepultura above me. Pol, covered in Bart Simpson sheets, was quicker on the draw and passed out immediatly. Even with the poster, I drifted off easily into a comfortable slumber.

Pol, Josep and I went out on the town the next morning to explore the sights. The first thing we noticed is that the Madrid subway is amazingly clean and efficient. We went to the Plaza del Sol and a few really great little neighborhoods. We stopped at a bar and had some tapas: AMAZING! I don't know how a land locked city can have the freshest seafood I have eaten in Spain, but they did. I asked and everyone says that as the capital, they demand the best quality. Overall the best dish was 'cesina', a cured beef sliced super thin drizzled with an amazing olive oil.

That night we played at a famous club called 'Clamores'. We had high expectations as many of the bigger bands in Spain and internationally had graced the same stage. We arrived and a blues band was playing, which I am always fond of. We did not go on until 1:30 AM (SPAIN!), so this was the 'opener' even thought they were billed as separate shows. I think it is some sort of double booking thing to make more money.

The sound man looked like hell. The kind of hell like, this guy is addicted to something and he didn't get his fix that day. For those of you who have never had to deal with a soundman, it is basically like having somebody who doesn't know you and doesn't really care, mold how you sound to the audience. Unfortunately soundmen (I would use a gender neutral term, but I don't think in my 18 years on the stage have I ever had a female sound person) are usually inattentive and lazy. We added two more members of the group for the show: Paco Peña (palmas and cajón) and David Berenguer (electric guitar), so this annoyed him even more as we were a total of 7 instruments. He then proceeded to be a total asshole, but we got things to sound relatively good, even with his resistance. The crowd was again not as large as we would have hoped, but there was plenty of hootin' and hollerin' and that always makes the night feel like a success.

Afterwards, at around 4 AM, since the subway did not open for another two hours, we decided to check out the late-night life of Madrid. We ended up at a packed club that, strangely, was playing great music! In Barcelona all you hear in clubs is 1. Electronic music 2. 80's music This was funk, reggae, soul, rock. We danced the early morning away. I didn't make it back to Diego's sisters that night. I ended up on a couch at a friend of a friend's apartment.

The next night, after a groggy day in the beautiful sunshine, we played a club called, La Boca del Lobo. Nice sound guy (anomaly, see above), great sound system, and a great crowd. I think we played the best show of my short career with the band. We were tight, the energy level was there for every song, and most of all we were fully enjoying ourselves. We ended up dancing the night away at the same bar as they had another amazing DJ spin that night when we were done. When we got exhausted and made the move to leave I stepped out into the street and it was packed! Filled to the gills with people going from one club to the next. It was energy of Saturday night that I don't think I have ever felt.

We headed back the next day with a couple bucks in our pocket, the whole trip paid for and some great memories. Because of a transportation issue (a story for another time) Diego and I had to take the bus back. It gave of some quality time to reflect on the weekend and the future. We did not achieve all that we wanted to in terms of great crowds every night, but I think we made good impressions everywhere we went and would be welcomed back to any of the three clubs. Poco a poco, little by little.

My Favorite New Group

Flight of the Concords
Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

Here is some footage of me playing on TV with Diego Paqué and Pol Sabata.