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.

My First Tour

After playing a few local gigs and practicing like a mad man to learn all the songs on the set list, we set off on what was my first real tour. I had travelled around Vancouver, Seattle, Bellingham, Anacortes, etc. for a one night gig or to rock a festival, but never three shows, three nights, three cities.

I got nervous as the day came to hit the road. I had dreamed of touring since I played in my first band, 'Puddy', back in 1992. I had visions of life on the road, romanticized about meeting new people after each show, tasting the cuisine from different regions and cultures, and most of all sharing my music with the people.

The tour was to the NW corner of Spain in Galicia. Like Cataluña, the Basque Country, and a few other regions of Spain, they have their own language: Gallego. It is smooth to the ears and sounds very much like a Portuguese and Spanish hybrid. This makes sense as geographically it lies just above Portugal. It does, however, complicate communication somewhat.

After a twelve hour, over-night drive Gorka, the keyboard player, Manu, our manager, Diego, the lead singer-guitar player, and me arrived to Vigo. Vigo is an important port city on the Atlantic and was my first view of 'the other side' of Spain. I realized as we climbed over the last ridge and saw the water, that growing up on the west coast, that my orientation has always been that the sun goes down over the water in the West. Here in Barcelona, the sun rises over the Mediterrenean in the east, but there is never a beautiful sunset over the ocean. I was excited to see one here in Galicia.

The hotel was simple, but clean and comfortable and we were wiped out after the long drive. Instead of looking for a restaurant we ate at the hotel bar. What a great decision! The woman who ran the hotel was also the cook and brought out an amazing spread of Caldo Gallego (a sort of meat stock soup with tender vegetables and garbanzo beans) and a mountainous plate of roasted pork. Bread and wine included of course. She offered us more, but there was no way any of us could fit another bite. This, I realized, was common practice in all restaurants and sit-down eating experiences. The Galicians stuff you. I began to wonder if they were fattening me up for something...But, I digress.

The first show of my first tour was somewhat disappointing. At the last minute the venue was changed and the new place was a little jazz bar called 'Contrabajo'. I was exited by the name, buy when we arrived we found a stage that was 6 feet tall that made us feel like we were up on a pedestal over the crowd. And the sound system seriously lacked punch. I was also a bit concerned as to how we would be received without a drummer or percussionist. It was a small but talkative crowd though and by the end we had them dancing and buying us drinks. Overall, a good first night.

The next day we were invited by a friend of Diego's uncle to his restaurant for lunch on our way to the next show in Santiago de Compostela. After getting a bit lost on the small costal highway we found his beautiful establishment. It was an old grain mill on the edge of a river converted into an elegant restaurant. They fed us (again, until the point of exploding) with goose egg and potato tortillas (a sort of Spanish omelet), fresh goat cheese, sautéed wild mushrooms, and white wine from a friends winery down the road. Life is good. The restaurant is called 'O Muiño Vello' or 'The Old Mill' in a town called Redondela on the outskirts of Vigo if anyone is travelling in Galicia...

From there we sleepily made our way to our next stop in Santiago. We loaded our gear into a beautiful club called Sala Dado Dada. There were hundreds of pictures of the artists who had played there. The energy was great and even though we didn't pack the house, those who were there were dancing and shouting. At the end of the night we had another crowd of people buying us drinks. The bartender also gave me a free 'Flor de Caña' rum on the rocks (one of my favorite things in the world). The owner, a powerful woman in the Galician music industry, came in toward the end and saw the crowd’s reaction. She gave us a bonus seeing that the place wasn't full but those who were there really enjoyed themselves. She also invited us to lunch the next day. I prepared my self to be stuffed again...

The next day we woke and met with the club owner. It turned out she owned a theater that had a restaurant attached. We sat down and they brought out a variety of tapas, shrimp in garlic sauce, jamón iberico, croquetas de pollo, and salad. I was filling up and feeling satisfied and the waiter appears and said, 'so, for the first and second course options we have...' The tapas were just a warm-up. Luckily I am a pretty healthy eater. I am the kind of guy that makes grandmothers happy as I clean my plate. I usually suffer later from indigestion, but anything for cultural sensitivity.

Again, after a sleepy drive, we made it to our last stop of the tour, La Coruña. We went directly to the club, Jazz Vides, set up and headed down to the beach. I wanted to catch that sunset. It was amazing to see the Atlantic crashing over the rocks and to think, wow, out there somewhere is my country. New York, Boston, Washington, D.C. I imagined the Spanish explorers looking out and pondering the possibility of another world. Knowing that it is out there is a whole different experience. It makes the concept of 'jumping over the pond' much more real.

The sun made its way over the horizon and the colors jumped out at us. I took a moment to stroll off by myself and sit on the rocks and look at the tide pools. I got a strong nostalgia for Seattle and the Puget Sound, with the scent of the sea, the clean air and the oranges and purples in the air. I took a deep breath, jumped up and was ready to play music again.

This was by far the best show of the tour. We were warmed up from the previous two nights, it was a packed house and we could feel the positive energy coming from the crowd. We got them to sing along to songs they had never heard and in the end the owners offered us shows anytime we were in the area. The string of good impressions continued...

As we headed back to Barcelona the next morning, I realized my dreams about touring came true. It was exactly what I hoped for and more. What a blessed life to travel from town to town, be stuffed with amazing food, meet friends, making a little money, all while playing music. Again, life is good.

El Encuentro/The Meeting

I first saw Diego Paqué perform because an American friendof mine, Rod, put me on the guest list to one of his shows. I enjoyed both the musicality and energy the band brought to the performance. I thought to myself, 'it would be great to play in a band like that someday...' Eight months later I got a call from Rod explaining that they were looking for a bassist and wondered if I was interested. At first I got very excited and then nervous as I realized that this was a serious, seasoned flamenco fusion group that would not be a 'show-up-and-play' scenario.

That night I made a date for a tryout and talked to the exuberant Diego about the situation. Their bassist had a baby and wanted to focus on his family. No bad blood, always a good sign. I have learned that if a member of the band quits because of personality issues, it may not be the best situation to walk into.

I wanted to make a good impression, so I learned a couple of the songs off his website and showed up ready to go. I had a few of the basics of flamenco rhythms down from my time with Matius, but was still unsure of myself. Regardless, he was impressed that I already knew some of the material, liked my sound that he called 'bajo americano' (American bass) and was willing to give me a shot.

Diego explained that we had one month to prepare for a string of shows coming up. This was the best news he could have given me as I dreamed of the stage since playing my last show with the Catalan pop-rock group almost one year before. I missed the stage more than anything and little did I know the fun was just about to begin...