Well comma* here we go. (* thanks Anna)

We have a fancy rental van with captain's chairs in the back, everyone smells of good hygiene, we've had a respectable amount of tacos in the last five days and somehow we have convinced three new folks to play Lid with us for over a month: Kate O Brien, Julia Kent and Chris Willits. Kate teaches violin, knows quite a bit about flowers and resides in Portland; Julia, our former goth girl, now current jet setter is from New York; and Chris exudes some serious California and rightfully so he emanates from SF. Everyone fits their city quite well I think. Also along for the second time is Ella Baruch our resident viola maestro and nurse in shoes only, Paul Simang, man in both the evening and morning and Luke, the Colonel Savisky, defender of science who requires little introduction.

I've given this a lot of thought and I'm really trying to enter into the tour with a better attitude. Not that I didn't last time. But hopefully this time around I can cling longer to the better attitude. I do think I'm a little wiser on keeping myself sane. It's funny, I just had a conversation with two of our new string players, Julia (cello) and Kate (violin). After they decided to join the tour they read my previous ramblings from Europe. It seems as if what I wrote heightened their trepidation about coming along. I guess it's hard to know how what you write will be perceived. Maybe its also just difficult to read about anyone's wall's collapsing in on themselves even if it's something as miniscule of a circumstance as a tour. Not to say that playing shows in strange places is inconsequential, but if that's the hardship that gets me bent out of shape then maybe I need to toughen up? Julia described the writings as reminiscent of a sea captain's log describing the rats slow over-taking of the ship. To be honest, I haven't really read the previous log since typing it. I've been told that it's pretty dark. Maybe it was my place to vent and maybe it is strange to put something like it up on a website for God and all to see. I don't think I offended anyone, at least, intentionally. Maybe Lucy wouldn't have wanted the world to know her temporary bout with petty theft. Maybe "I hate everyone" was a tad harsh? Maybe I was too revealing or too honest or maybe Julia and Kate were afraid that my tour protocol was wallowing about in my own misery so much that being around me would be a chore. When I think about it my interactions with everyone I don't feel I have anything to apologize for. Touring was rough but I tried to be good to those around me. Like a good team player, I kept my struggles inside. For the most part at least. Posting them up here doesn't count does it?

I remember after the European tour was over, our tour manager extraordinaire, Paul, mentioned that he thought it was a good idea to give myself a couple of days and write some concluding remarks, potentially put some things in perspective, and end on a lighter note. I clearly never did that. I was so relieved to be over with the tour and I knew that it would easily take me longer than a couple of days to find a new perspective. Now I see the European tour as obviously too schedule-heavy but a strangely exciting and rare thing to see happen. I felt like performing, despite my internal diva-ness, was somehow more enjoyable because of the inclusion of the strings and our ability to get closer to the recordings. But that's about as close as I'm gonna get to conclude that chapter. Maybe more appreciations will spring up as I go through this current maze.

Let's just say that we'll begin with an ending and make up an owed ending as we go. Intros aside, hopefully this log becomes more than just some open letter to the downtrodden. Here's to keeping some of the trodden separate from the downtime. Take that Rod McKuen.

4-14 The City of Angels

More Lid Less Stars. I should mention that I stole a version of that phrase from a good friend of mine, Mike. Mike did not make it to the show last night because of an illness which I will never let him live down. Even though the Echoplex was entirely celebrity-free on this Monday evening, there were some serious first show jitters. You could see it on our faces, especially Ella who has a new viola technique that is making her solo on "Even If" seem larger than life. Yesterday felt like one of the longer days of my recent life: I ran errands galore, streamlined my guitar setup, waited for a UPS truck, pretended to eat food when I could, and drove up and down many highways. My biggest source of unnervyness was the fact that this was the first show and a gaggle of people that I care about would be present. It's a different deal to play in a country where your language is not commonly spoken in comparison to playing for dear friends. Friends will always be kind in talking about what you do. And that makes it worse. Despite my butterflies, the show went off without a hitch. I saw many old friends, glued myself to Brian Foot's Nudge set, and somehow we managed to inspire around 370 people to purchase tickets. Even the promoter who didn't know us from pork was pleased. Strangely enough, as soon as I walked on stage, things were surprisingly calm.


4-15 San Francisco

How do you know whether or not what coming is out of you is genuinely worth paying attention to? Individually, asking yourself this kind of thing is probably a waste of time but when you play for people night and night out you have to ask yourself is this good enough to really even take to the public. Well, last night felt like one of our top five best shows ever. I guess it seemed worth some attention. It could have been a case of low expectations in the sense that soundcheck sounded so abysmal that my expectations were zero. But tonight, the ladies played at the perfect pace, they paused like they were built for it and Ella's solo on "Even If" gave me the chills. The stage was comfortable. Luke's projections were bright. And San Francisco was just the right amount of hippie to take the edge off. We played at a quintessential rock club, the Independent. I think I saw the Jesus Lizard play there in like '92 but the club had a different name back then. Their sound was booming, they had security to watch the back stage area and they even had a different dude to hold open the backstage door when we finished. It seems that well-staffed equates to rock in my mind. Everyone was super friendly. They helped with VGA chords, procuring some local press, loading-in, drinks – the little things, but didn't make us feel like it was their job or that they wanted us in and out as fast as possible.


4-17 Portland

Portland was so very Portland. On one hand it was so green that I think some of the ladies began to have panic attacks that they were not green enough. The ladies stayed at Kate's cute place with her seriously cute dog Quinton, who is, I believe, a puggle. One the hand, we stayed at a Red Roof Inn that was seriously ghetto, prostitution style with lots of people hanging out with their hands in their pockets. We performed at HOLOCENE which had kind of an art gallery-ish vibe. When we loaded in, one half of the venue was being occupied by a Planned Parenthood party complete with a DJ and many ladies shaking their rumps in matching t-shirts. Portland was the first of the three Wordless Music shows we will be participating in, which is great because the proprietor of the organization Ronen is always a good one to chat up about random musical musings. I believe that he is taking organization on road, attempting to jumpstart some Wordless Music performances in other cities. So back to Portland: soundman was great, super attentive, performing before us was Classical Revolution (which is a horrible name, sorry folks) which was a quintet that performed Speigel Im Speigel absent any amplification (which was nice).


4-18 Seattle

Eat asian food while listening to Stars of the Lid. Bizarre concept, nice place. First, Nirvana's former soundman was running the sound tonight. He said the sound was at unity and he barely touched it. They had one of those sound systems with a wireless controller. Sean, the soundman, could stand on stage with us and adjust monitor and house levels. It was a tiring night. Second, three acts all with visuals is quite a bit for an audience to digest. I am of the opinion that some nights the audience could be oversaturated with too much music and too much abstract visual art. Third, good conversations abounded tonight. I had a great conversation with two guys about the notion of decline and decay as a counter-point to Western oriented techne-driven classical music. They were talking to me about Japanese conceptions of decline which I was not familiar with. They, of course, were way more exuberant about the Lid's relevance to some classical tectonic shift that would ever care to admit. I don't think a classical radio station would play a single track of ours. Fourth, we dropped Ella and Julia at a sports bar in CTAC (read the cheap hotel where we stayed) for the cultural exchange possibilities. I don't think they even made it through the door. Tomorrow we drive to Minneapolis staying the night in Billings and we are fearful of a snow storm.


Yes, yes, I haven't written for a while. True true. I guess it takes the exoticness of a foreign country to inspire the logging.

All Tomorrow's Parties 5-17

What can be said about the mixture of the Lid and a festival? Clearly a bunch of drunk young-ins is not the appropriate place for music such as ours. Many of the folks at the festival reminded me of a high school dance. Imagine many pudgy skinny people who are blindingly white doing the awkward side to side white boy dance some with their shirts off. Sort of zombies at a high school dance that really need to let loose but haven't in way too long but they don't care enough to let the awkwardness impede themselves.

That being said, this festival, although one of the few festivals I have ever participated in or attended, was quite enjoyable. The great thing about the arrangement was that the lodging was in walking distance from the performances. The festival was held on sort of a family resort surroundings which had three stages and many bungalows. There were bumper cars, slot machines, water slides, kiddie pools and multiple fast food venues. It was sort of a never leave the vacation-castle environment. Obviously the majority of the attendees were there to see the larger rock bands like The National, Broken Social Scene or the curators, Explosions in the Sky. We performed in what was called the Center Stage at midnight on a Saturday, which was a great slot given that the Lid probably doesn't fit too well with an afternoon. Moving everything on stage was quite rushed and setting up for the performance was more hectic than I would have preferred, but the working staff was quite cordial and despite the long hours dealing with everyone's needs they remained relatively steadfast in their helpfulness. We performed after Adem who was primarily a covers band, covering indie rock anthems from the last ten years and before The Battles, who were a noodlely rock supergroup, neither of which I had never heard of. My ignorance left me wondering whether I was purposively keeping my head in the sand or whether I should try to pay more attention to current releases. I was amazed at Battles ability to control the crowd. Their audience seemed to desperately follow every gesture almost hoping for the band to lead them off the cliff.

Playing a festival of this sort put me in a weird mental space. I get the impression that we, like everyone who performed, play their own part, and sort of serve more of a particular diversity purpose than say an Oz fest tour. We are obviously the down tempo slot plugged in between two indie rock bands, one more on the prettier side and the other rocking. I'm not saying that we are some kind of slow-it-down affirmative action but I must say I felt a little like an isore in a sea of up. For example, even though our show was well attended it was hard to believe that the crowd was there to see us. Adam asked appropriately if anyone knew who we were. Maybe people we just getting there early to see the Battles. How long do you have to do this before you start to believe that despite what you see in the world around you that people could be genuinely interested? I guess maybe we're supposed to move from doubting that anyone should really pay any attention to supreme arrogance that we are the bee's knees.

As soon as we finished playing one of the members of Explosions in the Sky, expressed to me his appreciation for our coming to play their festival. He mentioned that they had tried to get Arvo Part to participate in the festival and was pleased that we brought a little Part in his absence. I'm sure this has been said time and time again, but these Explosions chaps are quite amiable. I was honored to even have been considered for a festival such as this, but so sincerely thanking me for playing the festival that they curated, stand up gentlemen indeed. I wonder what it would be opening up for them on the road.

The next day was a day off before Bristol so rightfully so we sought out trouble and easily found it in the form of many intoxicated conversations. Jet lag and too much of everything would bring about a powersleep easily into the early evening. I saw Lichens mesmerize myself and the audience and had some good conversations with Matt from Eluvium and Rob of Lichens and then hurried off for more hibernation.


Bristol 5-19

Cute town if I dare call it a town. We performed in a small old theatre called the Cube. The Cube seemed kind of like a cooperative of sorts: they made their own cola, served only organic drink and foodstuffs and seemed very aware of their desire to influence the larger community around them. Christina Carter was supposed to perform before us but unfortunately she apparently canceled her tour because of a family illness. Our performance was lackluster to say the least. The PA sounded like mushy bits and the ladies were at times lost in their heads. I feel the weight of the previous tour weighing down on us. We are redefining weary at the moment. The night brought poor sleep. Snoring kept me awake despite the ear plugs and thoughts of many impending Travel Lodges carried didn't provide much solace. Time will leave us where we have to stay.

London 5-20

There is no doubt that I was looking forward to this one. Historically London has spelled disaster for us. In 2001, Adam's sampler stopped working only minutes before the show with my sampler being literally blown up the night before in Manchester. We were supposed to play two shows in London in 2001. But we canceled the first of the two the night of the show when we arrived upstairs at the Garage and their staff informed us that we could not project in their space because our sheets/screens would violate firecode. And in Novermber of last year, we played at the Luminaire which was so unsuited for us because of its low ceilings and oversold crowd. So finally, the space would be conducive. Lichens and James Blackshaw would open. And we'd get a shot to do this proper like. The church was perfect. It reminded both Adam and myself of the church we performed at in Leeds last year. I was told that it was one of the older churches in London and that there were somewhere around 2000 bodies buried in the back court yard. I wondered if my mom would have enjoyed exploring its history. Soundcheck was a beast: as with most soundchecks in a venue such as this, it takes a little while for the PA to be set up just because the place is so unaccustomed to having performances. We used the church's piano and the reverberate nature of the room was causing a substantial amount of feedback. Two hours later, soundcheck was over, and church bell practice began. Kate eventually climbed her way up to the bell stairs and a small older gentlemen with a round stomach let her get her bell jam on.

Mr. Blackshaw played both the piano and an acoustic guitar but did it in a way that was quite complex but melodically restrained. Lots of harmonics within the same chords. Rob played a similar set to the ATP performance but this time I was able to sit back in a church pew close my eyes and not think about the smell of hotdogs, farts and beer stained sticky carpets. I also laid there more knowing what to expect so I was able to give myself up to the sound. Instead of concentrating on what was occurring, I just let it take me over, which I must say was a perfect way to prepare myself to play.

The sun came down, we turned the lights off and let Luke's projections fill the church. Tonight I felt second fiddle to Luke's projections. As usual he covered all of the back wall and much of the ceiling. It's amazing how he doesn't even need a screen when he projects in churches. Tonight was quite a room filling experience. The PA was huge, Luke's projections brought the walls to life and the ever present echos felt like the church was playing right along with us. I could feel the music strongly on stage. Syriana sounded great. I think we did something good for people.

We stayed at another Travel Lodge out by Heathrow because the lodging inside London is too expensive for us.

Birmingham 5-21

The amazing thing about our time in Birmingham was that the kindness of our promoters managed to prevent a major tailspin on my behalf. For some reason, despite my enjoyment of the London show, I felt the world creeping in around me. I became encumbered by loneliness even though I was surrounded by people. Maybe I was just desperate for some human-time as I like to call it or maybe the winds of Sita were calling me.

Birmingham seems a bit more downtrodden than our previous English stops. It could be the greyness of the skies or maybe just the particular roads we traveled. I get the impression that there is way more of a working class element present here than say Bristol.

When we arrived, we were to do an instore at Polar Records down the street from the venue. First off, you'd be lucky to ever have a show put on by promoters of such overwhelming generosity. Steve and Sean were about as kind and respectful as could be. Steve had remembered my love for all things Morricone and this ECM book I had been eyeing when we last played the Hare and the Hound. Adam and I did some looking around the store, signed some autographs, and listened to some of the many ECM releases we had never heard. Steve directed me to some soundtracks of note. Before we left, Steve presented us with both three Morricone boxsets and the history of ECM book.

Tonight we would play with fellow label-mate, Chris Herbert. Chris's wife had just had a baby eight weeks ago and I got the sense that he hadn't really had a proper night out since the arrival of their child. Chris was jovial and ready for a good drink.

Before we played, the team was watching the Mann U versus Chelsea game on a TV in our green room. I don't know much of anything about the game but it was obvious how important it was for most of the inhabitants of England. The English are way serious about their footie. Almost too serious I'd say. When asked at the instore about which team Adam was rooting for, he declined to say for fear of getting beaten up. The game was decided on penalty kicks with Adam's team winning in the end. But the great thing was the gaggle of onlookers we had in the dressing room moaning exuberantly to every kick. It was probably the most enjoyable pre-show ten minutes all tour. Single malt and Budvar flowed and we played with smiles on our faces knowing that Adam's team were victorious. But our flowing spirits were nothing compared to the crowd's. The crowd was loaded. Several times we'd hear "ye-ha"s in the audience. Chris's visual projectionist was so drunk that he spilled beer all over my side of the stage and I think that he may have also been responsible for kicking my computer bag off the stage and allowing the contents to spill all over the floor. Oh, and one last note, some random dude jumped on stage after we played and tried to steal the power chord for my computer. Luckily the sound guy stepped in and saved the day.

The sound was full similar to the other stage we played on last time. Adam actually took requests after our proper set was finished. Someone shouted out Tippy, so we obliged. Oh, what a bar band we've become.

After the show, Colonel, Tom, Julia, Kate and myself went looking for a drink near our hotel. We found a late night place where upon walking downstairs to the supposedly less crowded bar, we witnessed, one man knock another flat out on the floor with two hits. Eventually, the pummeled fellow arose after a couple of minutes. Besides a good dose of spectular violence, Birmingham treated us to many orange tanned women, loads of beefy dudes who leaned heavily on the word "cunt," and so many drunk people that standing up seemed a chore. I proceeded to sleep in the van to protect what is ours from what we couldn't understand about Birmingham.

Glasgow 5-22

We hadn't been to Glasgow in over ten years. The last time we played there we opened up for Labradford in the dead of winter in 97. I remember the previous show well because I remember being unsatisfied with the performance. I remember Mark and Bobby dancing after the show was over. And I remember Adam announcing almost in disgust of our performance that our next record needed to be something worth remembering. So I was eager to be in Glasgow and create a new memory of it. We missed Scotland in November because I don't think we had any good contacts for places to play. Both shows we're playing in Scotland were set up by Stewart of Mogwai's wife. Apparently she is a promoter and Stewart contacted Adam after the last tour telling us we should let her book something. We played at a place called Stereo which was not the first place we were supposed to play. I believe there was potentially a church or more of a theatre space that fell through because of a previous engagement. Nonetheless, Stereo provided us a good cavern to fill up and above the venue a vegan restaurant to find badly needed nourishment. The coffee was strong and the atmosphere was laid back. Tonight we would play with two opening acts: the Declining Winter and Remember Remember.

There is something about Scottland that I'm finding more appealing than what we've seen in England. For starters, most of the general public seems more intelligent. I don't know what it is about them that I'm noticing but something is different. Also people in Glasgow seem way more fashionable (which has nothing to do with the appeal of Scotland). Lots of dudes with the hair pushed forward (or the backwards hair people as Julia so aptly coined) and ladies with lots of leggings. In fact I have not seen such a deluge of fashionistas outside of Little Joys in LA. It's almost as if it's the predominant fashion.

I'm having a hard time understanding the Scottish dialect. They speak rather quickly and all their words seem to mush together. I try to have a conversation with a man outside and really all I get out of the conversation is something about a submarine and a "mapcap" from Brooklyn. I think I can make out a narrative of what's he's talking about, but it's mostly guestwork.

We soundchecked for a day and half while we waited for one of the two openers to show up. We tried to work up a version of soundtrack cover but we weren't gonna agree on anything in the hour we worked on it.

Our performance was more on the average tonight. Despite Tom's better efforts, the strings sounded sort of AM radio-removed from us on stage.

The night in Glasgow would be long. Most of the crew journey-ed to a bar called the Art School which was nothing like I expected. The Art School was less of a bar and more of a multiple level meat market factory for twenty-somethings with backwards hair and overly stylized attire. We would wait in line to eventually get in and feel out of place. The girls shooks their rumps, the placed closed and Tom and I were off to find a party and more trouble. Tom and I would have many strange and debaucherous encounters. Too many and random to be repeated here.


Aberdeen 5-23

Tonight we played in a venue aptly named The Tunnels. It was underneath the city center and it felt as cold as a north Scotland tunnel. The venue was divided into two different stages. On one stage would be us and the other would be a heavy metal cover band performing Whitesnake and AC/DC songs. I couldn't decide where to hang out. Maybe we should have asked them for a little collaboration. Tonight the club would treat us to a home cooked meal with candles on the table. They left the candles on the table for our performance. Julia and myself would man up on the merch tonight. I would dazzle each onlooker with bad jokes about my new band Slippery When Wet and Julia would pretend to be interested. For the performance, the crowd was attentive and quiet and someone afterward actually recognized our drop-down-half-step Rheingold we sandwiched into Veggie. We had to clear out in a hurry because a dance party was about to start. We packed quickly and found late nite thai takeaway where they made my food spicy even though I offended them by asking for Vietnamese style spring rolls. As Adam would say, more "bonding with the locals."


Newcastle 5-24

Never been to Newcastle but I don't really know if you can say I'd been to any one of these city's we perform in given the length of time we're there and what we see. But what we did see was quite nice. We performed in a beautiful gothic church complete with church organ (best in Newcastle supposedly) and piano. The church was cold but at least with this church we had a tiny heater in our green room. During Veggie I ran up these super tiny circular stairs to get to the church organ. When I got up there I saw Christina and she looked at me with dismay, saying "what are you doing?" I just replied "church organ." After the show I ate the west veggie burger I had ever eaten. Tomorrow is the last show for a long while.

Dear Lid fans, it seems likes tickets are selling fast for both of these shows. I want the truly wanted to make sure they get a ticket and I know there are many procrastinators among you.

so I've heard through the grapevine that the American soccer/football player, Brian McBride, mentioned in a TV or some kind of interview Stars of the Lid and me, his moniker counterpart. If anyone heard or saw it, drop me a line, I'd love to check it out. I'm feeling some good sample material here.

Well apparently the Explosions in the Sky folks were kind enough to invite us to perform at the next ATP, which was awfully generous of them. So, it look's like we'll be returning to England way sooner than expected.

BE WARNED: What you're about to experience is completely random thoughts that I have decided to post on this myspace world at the request of many. Whom I kidding, some. I have a tendency to notice stupid shit and think about it for too long. So, you have been warned.

Thursday 15.11

Well, I probably shouldn't be using my battery power for typing this while I'm on a 9+ hour flight to Heathrow but if I don't write about it now, I can definitely see myself delaying this musings-thing indefinitely. I knew I was ready for the trip when a United rep from the Greensborough airport asked me a day before my flight if I was traveling to Europe. (I flew from Greensborough yesterday – Tuesday – and 24 hours later I'm on another plane). I asked her why she thought I was flying to Europe and she replied "You just look like you are." I apparently have the euro look down or the longing for Europe. Who knows. You can tell me when you see me.

So I'm sitting on a relatively un-crowded plane, at a window seat even though many computers told me there where none available. I've already skimmed through the duty free magazine only to find Liv Tyler, JLo, Gwen, Sara Jessica Parker and many others shilling perfume. I mean how much money to people need? And do people primarily choose their duty-free perfumes on the basis of which celeb they prefer? It's not like you can smell it on the plane before you buy it so maybe a little sponsorship is what it takes to sell airplane perfume.

I'm sitting across the isle from a beautiful Asian women. She occasionally catches my eye. She's wearing a light blue sweater with little tiny clouds all it. It sounds tacky but she's pulling it off pretty well.

I parked at a parking structure called WallyPark before coming to the airport. How can it not remind you of National Lampoons Family Vacation? When I got onto the shuttle I was followed by two Wally Parkers who wanted me to take a quick 2 minute survey. For a second, I thought they were profiling me, trying to figure out my security risk or something. But no, I took a survey about an idea for "WallyBark" where you bring you pet to their kennel, they called it a gym and you can drop off your pet and your car. Of course this sounded so ridiculous to me that I immediately became suspicious. Who knows, they'll probably make more money off it than I'll ever see in a lifetime.

Now I'm at Heathrow and I'm dying for a cigarette. It seems as if the airport has turned non-smoking. I'm sitting in some mall-like area with a bunch of benches in the middle, separating the Goldsmiths from the Fat Face and French Connection. And it's all tax free and it's right here in the airport. I don't see an fat people here. But I did see an entourage of Japanese guys sorta looking tough with long hair and leather jackets. I looked at them like they were intimidating because I thought's that what they wanted.

I noticed there's a restaurant called Giraffe that has lotsa veggie items on the menu. Of course, they proudly display that none of their food is made with any GM products, that is until US trade reps threaten to start a trade war and shove it down their throats. Shit, I am on vacation or what.

I'm totally doped up on sleeping meds groggily listening to soft rock and doing some Limey watching. Spinning at the moment is "Julie, Do You Love Me" by Bobby Sherman. Up next is "If You Could Read My Mind" by The Gordon Lightfoot. It's nice to see that cheese has not left me since crossing the Atlantic. Angel of the Morning, Baby Come Back, more to come.

Sunday 18.11

Here in Brussels. It's cold and Christina's computer hard drive died. Despite her troubles, she is gracefully feeding us very healthy food on a daily basis.

So the girls showed up yesterday. We have an Ela (viola), Lucinda (cello) and Nora (violon). All from London. We seem to be practicing non-stop. So much so that, there are a lot of blank stares on their faces, I have gone back to drinking too much coffee and Adam and I are in a battle to try to make some kind of sense to our dedicated trio. I say dedicated because after 8 hours they will return to their hotel to continue the practicing. My favorite part of practice is watching them talk to each other. They kinda mumble in a very English way and I have no idea what they're saying but I find it very endearing. Tomorrow the Colonel is in the house. Tuesday is Brighton.


Brighton, Tuesday 20-11
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Cold rain abounds There was no time to explore the city which is probably better given the trashy weather. The venue we played was The Prince Albert. It was quite small. Good for a first show but a bit too cramped for everyone. The show was sold out and we had people pressed up against the stage. Folks were so mashed in that people could have reached out and touched Lucy's cello or Ela's viola. We played alright. Some of our pauses were a bit awkward. I believe this is the first show where we actually stopped in between the different pieces for a moment. The crowd seemed uncertain whether or not they should applause. Adam actually announced the songs as we went. Kinda surreal actually. Many of the people at the show were quite gracious. A bunch even said that they had tickets for both Brighton and London. There is clearly a much intellectual spirit present here. Instead of people coming up to you drunkenly expressing how great it was, you have complements like it was "ineffable." If I only I could find a way to become legal over here. I think life in the UK or Europe would be so much more rewarding, stimulating and satisfying. One can dream. Maybe I'll marry in to the UK. Ha!

The ladies are teaching me English expressions. I'm learning correct pronunciations and phrases such as "cheers," "ta," "wicked," "slash," and a bunch of others I can't really remember.

Today we drive to Bristol. From the M4, the countryside is green and the cows are aplenty. The sun is out and the mini-bus doesn't smell as bad as it did yesterday. Luke is sitting next to me going through Final Cut Pro, getting his films organized. Man he has some beautiful stuff. He was this one visual motion science film that he's working on right now that is quite stunning. Me, I'm just typing, listening to some rough pop songs that Ken Gibson gave me in preparation for our pop record. A man cannot listen to droney music all day. Or at least, this one can't.

Bristol 21-11

We played in a beautiful church or chapel? – the Redland Park Chapel, thanks to the promoter, Alex. From what I understand, Alex doesn't really put on any shows. He's a musician. But he decided when we were booking the tour that he wanted to see us play in this particular space. It had all the typical church accoutrements: church organ, pews, a group in the back doing a bible study. Luke even used the organ bench and stacks of bibles to hold up his projectors. I wish he had taken a picture of it. I felt a whole lot of sacrilegious smoking and drinking red wine outside in front of the church. Most of the people I spoke with said that they had never seen a show before at the space. Despite the strange location we managed to sell out the show for the second night in a row. The person working the door said that 25 people had to be turned away.

The opener, Greg Haines, played these strikingly beautiful piano melodies alongside some computer generated bass notes with some Labradford-esque high pitched sounds dictating the tempo. I found it quite moving.

We had to live immediately after the show to catch the 2:30 am ferry over the Ireland. We were cutting it quite close so Adam pounded some of his ritualistic red-bulls drove both to the ferry and from the ferry to Cork. I went up deck onto the ferry while Adam and Ken (our soundman) slept in the mini-bus. Luke feed me pints of Murphy's until I couldn't tell if I was drunk or if it was the ferry.


Cork 22-11, Thanksgiving

Well turns out Thanksgiving on the road in Europe doesn't really hold a candle to the real deal. In the morning I ate at a Johnny Rockets for breakfast and for dinner the promoter (sic) – I say "sic" because last night's promoter, Albert, resisted the term as too profit-hungry., ordered Thai food. I was happy to get my Thai on even if I couldn't experience my typical vegetarian feast. We played at a rock club in downtown Cork called Cyprus Avenue. The club was nice, sort of a typical Irish pub in one room, a proper band room and after the show some bumping dance grooves downstairs. The girls shook their rumps while the dudes stood outside and drank some of the original Budweiser (which happens to be really good actually). I think the ladies need some release.

This is my first time to ever visit Ireland. It does seem a bit greener than England and the people are harder for me to understand.

The show was loud and engulfing, the way I like it. To me it kinda sucks to not be surrounded by the sound on stage. It's much more difficult for me to enjoy myself while playing. But last night definitely surrounded me.

The crowd was very effusive with their applause. Once we walked off the stage they started up again. It kinda shocked me actually. I guess I'm not used it. Maybe we should walk off the stage in some kind of coordinated manner.

Tonight is Dublin and our hotel is in the city center. So maybe we will have the chance to actually stick around after the show and get ourselves into some trouble. I could use a little trouble right now. The mini-bus in already giving me the cabin fever and I could use some time away from the crew. At the moment, I feel a bit like a traveling salesman. I get to see the inside of a club, a Travel Lodge and the inside of the bus.

Dublin 23-11

OK, Dublin was cold. Windy brutal cold. The people all walked quickly and they smelled like watermelon. We played at Wheelans, a big indie rock club. It was a big rock club in the sense of being too used to having shows. You could see it in the faces of the employees. They couldn't care less who you where, you where just another band and it was another night.

When we pulled up to the club to load in, a badged woman asked us a bunch of questions like when we arrived and when we were planning to leave Ireland. She even took Paul, our tour manager's ID and asked Adam to step away from her while she talked to Paul.

Ulrich Schnauss opened for us. I didn't get to see him, or meet him, I only heard the end of his set. It was quite bombastic but a bit too busy for my tastes. There were quite a few massive volume jumps that I couldn't real tell if they were intentional.

We were video interviewed for a magazine called Foggy Notions which I think I referred to as Foggy Bottoms because I have some DC hard-wired into me. The interviewer was knowledgable enough about previous interviews. Adam sat there most of the time silently clutching a bottle of Bushmills. They had to stop the interview multiple times because someone kept playing music over the PA.

And speaking of Bushmills, everyone minus Adam hit the town after the show. Two things happened: 1. too much Bushmills and 2. many angry Irish. I don't know if it's just me being too sensitive but the citizens of Dublin seem quite ready to rumble. I heard the word "cunt" used more times than a sex-ed class. Upon checking in to the hotel a couple was accosting the staff for something extremely loudly. And as we walked off the stage and past the bar I overheard someone say "I can't believe people where applauding those cunts." In a nutshell I would describe Dubliners as too aggressive for me sense of fraility. A generalization, yes, and that is what happens when you're on the road.

The show was fine. Loud through the big rock club PA and the audience was liberal with the applause. So much so that we played an encore. I believe 250 people came out to the show and we got a bonus above our guarantee. The best part was the aftershow. When we were done the venue turned into a indie rock dance club. Moppy haired Dubliners shook it up to the likes of Interpol and a bunch of other bands I didn't recognize.

So back to Bushmills. Yeah, too much definitely. We had to leave at 7am or something ungodly to catch the ferry. And of course we decided to bring the after party back to the hotel where we drank more. So long story short, the morning hit too hard, hangovers overtook us, I drank coffee and swallowed some of Colonel's migraine medicine, only to burn a hole into my stomach. The Birmingham show was a whole lot of nauseau and some occasional booting. At least I held it in while on stage.

But before I pierced my stomach with medicine, the drive through Wales was outstanding. Extremely windy roads, super lush green hills, sheep galore, and streams. We stopped at this nice little chocolate shop right off the road for some coffee. The girls got truffles, swang on the swings and ran around. It was probably the most picturesque moment of the tour.

Birmingham 24-11

Tonight was hard. Gut pains make for bad Lid. The music was actually the best we had played. We extended veggie out quite a bit and I was able to completely get lost in it. It felt like old Lid to me. Colonel joked that he gave me the medicine to hurt my stomach on purpose so I would perform with more melancholy.

Steve from Polar Records was the hero tonight. It was his first time to set up a show and he accomplished it with much grace. We played at the Hare and Hound. He said the show sold out in 10 days and he could have sold three times as many tickets. I think he may have been the first to get everything on the rider, including postcards and a used book of the local dialect.

We stayed at a cute very English hotel. Pub on the first floor. Rooms were cozy almost attic-lik. Keys were big and clunky. Wall-paper was dreamy. Beds were tiny. Sleep was heavenly.

Manchester 25-11

The last time we played Manchester, the power exploded during sound check. We were playing upstairs at some pub and the power fried. So we moved the show downstairs into this small cramped pub area where the downstairs power short-circuited and melted my sampler, shocking me so badly that I was thrown over. After the show we stayed at this promoters house that smelled of fungus and cat pee. We were so disgusted that we woke up in the middle of the night and started driving. So let's just say that no matter how tonight's show went, it is doubtful that it could be anywhere near as bad as the last time.

The venue was at the Urbis which was an urban center of sorts. It was in this flashy area of the city center which looked recently gentrified, slickified or both. Around the Urbis were many department store shops, night clubs, a ferris wheel and a couple of beautiful old gothic style churches. I would have rather played a grungier portion of the city. But the venue was nice. The staff was incredibly professional and accommodating to Luke. The dressing room was big enough for the girls to practice in but the stage lights and general ambient lighting of the room couldn't be turned off while we played.

At the moment the Urbis appeared to be a cultural music museum. They had an exhibit on the Hacienda which I believe to be the sort of main venue for many of the Factory bands. There was a gift shop where you could purchase Sex Pistols and Misfits skateboards and other crap. To me it reeked on the commodification of dissent.

Listening to Badalamenti's "Mysteries of Love" and staring at sheep from the van. Somehow the sheep seem to be sleeping to what I'm hearing.

Last night was a big single malt night. We had plenty of time to kill before the show and the air was chilly, so we all abetted the demise a bottle of Glenfiddich (sp). Spirits were up amongst the crew last night, and not just in the liquored sence. The girls were extra special giddy and we ended the set with a Pärt piece. Before the show my ART preamp seems to have passed on. That makes one Loop Station, a DOD delay pedal and the preamp in the trashcan. Being on tour is quite the money making venture isn't it?

After the show we decided to find an open pub for a drink before we went back to the trusty ol' Travel Lodge. Supposedly there was a pub "right around the corner" with nice cheap local beer. We couldn't find any open pubs so we walked around past all the night clubs, heard some Whitney Houston, and brought the party back to the hotel. The girls cranked some Kate Bush and Rick James and we called it. MESSAGE TO FUTURE AUDIENCES: We are not opposed to any after party you want to invite us to as long as you are not a full time driving instructor with no sense of smell or taste who enjoys hacking people up into small pieces. In fact, there better be some seriously scenic wine stained after-parties in Italy or this Lid will be let down.

London 26-11

The girls are super pleased to be kicking it on their turf. After soundcheck, they met with their families for dinner. I meet Nora's father who exuded a certain calmness that I've noticed present in his daughter. I wanted to meet Ela's father, who is a psycho-analyst. I asked Ela to have her father write an analysis of the performance.

Before the show Lucy passes around a copy of a split single that her band Felix did with Chris Herbert. There's a photograph of a woman looking for books in a library which immediately catches my attention because of my love for libraries and my love for women who love libraries. Apparently some of Lucy's photos have just been accepted in a gallery show while she's been on tour.

Tonight I'm actually feeling both the drain of the tour and anxiety about the show. I think our poor previous performance in London and the girls excitement is aiding my nervousness. Boduf Songs is opening which is good because I've never seen them live and I'm a fan of their recordings. What I hear in soundcheck sounds greats: they have the vocals cranked up super loud but Matt sings incredibly quietly. Unfortunately there's not even enough room to move in the Luminaire to find a place to comfortably listen. There are so many people crammed in that I have people sitting around my feet while I'm on stage. I feel sorry for them because I know how bad it's gonna sound on stage compared to the live mix. Despite being the end of November, I end up sweating profusely through the entire show. There are too many photos being snapped and I'm sure that my balmy self is quite a sight to behold. I think I see someone on the left side of the stage making out during the set. Too bad we didn't get some video of that.

Matt from Boduf Song's girlfriend brought us some vegan treats: some chocolate brazil nut biscuits and some muffins. The Boduf folks seems quite pleasant but I don't seem to have the faculties to speak with them for too long.

Tonight I met many wonderful people: John, the promoter, Tracy, a film editor, Jamie, who is supposed to sit with us with us as a second violinist, and Elena. Elena and I shared a bottle of wine and talked of life's creative repressions. She is filled with thoughts and I get the feeling that she needs a place to park some of them.

Jamie was a student of Gavin Bryars. He told us some great stories. We concluded that his sitting in doesn't make much sense given the harmonics its creating. We didn't write him a separate part so he's really just doubling up with Nora. During soundcheck the chorus of the violins is too present. But it was great to share a meal with him and talk with him about music.

Going back to the hotel is a disaster. We're staying at a Travel Lodge extremely far north, like 30 minutes outside of London, so there is really no chance of enjoying ourselves after the show. We arrive at the Travel Lodge and Adam and I go up to our room only to find out that the key doesn't work. I go downstairs, get another key, and try it again. This time a man answers in his skivvies letting us know that the room is occupied. We go downstairs, explain the situation and it turns out that they don't have an empty room. Eventually after much haggling, they agree to put us up another hotel. We wait for a taxi, take the taxi and try to check in at the new hotel. I say "try" because when we arrive at the new hotel, they have no knowledge that the previous Travel Lodge is supposed to pay for these rooms. It easily takes 30 minutes for hotel clerk to even get a hold of someone at the previous hotel. Two hours into it all, it works out and I get to bed at four.

Leeds 27-11

Tonight was show number eight with no days off and I'm feeling it. Everything is blurring together at this point: places, people and lodging. I don't seem to have the wherewithal to watch the opening acts. (even though we detect a bit of Evananscence in the second act). I play hangman with the girls before the show. I spell words like "drone" and "travel lodge," clearly a testament to my occupied thinking at the moment. Everyone else spells words like "sky" and "shizzle."

Tonight is fortunate for we performed in another church (The Holy Trinity) and our hotel was in walking distance. The church is of course spectacular with tons of natural reverb. The ceilings are huge and ornate. Luke's films are projected on the ceiling, on the wall near the ceiling and over us. He is projecting these huge angels (which is a new image for him) and they almost have a three dimensional element to them. It seems as if we're meant to play this place. After playing in a church in Bristol we are more prepared to adapt the sound to fill the area. Tonight we start with Tippy and end with the Arvo Part piece. I can hear all the girls really well on stage. Both Adam and I are tired so we're playing quieter.

This was the first hotel we've stayed in within the city center since the tour began. It was nice to be able to go out for some drinks and wind down with some of the people we met. We hang out at more of a bar than a pub. Leeds definitely seems to be a college town. The demographic on the streets reminds me of 6th street in Austin but with less of the redneck but still plenty of the drunken fraternity-lite ignorance. In fact, the largeness of some these Leeds' residents reminds me even more of Austin. Drunk large frat people is apparently what I think Austin is all about. What fond memories I have.

So tomorrow is our drive back into France but we have to go through London to pick up some more records because we've practically sold out. We running low now on everything: shirts, posters and tour CDs. I had no idea that eight days of shows would gut our supply.




Somewhere in France 28-11

Day off – which really means a day driving. We arrive at an Ibis at 10pm. We're staying in the sticks again which means no dinner in the immediate area. While we were on the chunnel we put in The Big Lebowski and everyone drinks a sip of beer whenever the word "Dude" is mentioned. Luke videotapes it. After we win our first grammy, someone will release it as a behind the scenes of SOTL. Paul (our commanding German tour manager) tells Ken (my roomie for the night) "Man in the evening, should be man in the morning" which basically is a message to me to get my ass to the van in time.


29-11 Nantes

We performed at a university. It was almost like the days of old. The crowd was much smaller than anything we'd seen previously on the tour. To be honest there's not much to tell about tonight's show. We ate weird food: shredded carrots with corn and a bunch of cous cous. Everything tasted bland. But the wine was excellent. I taught the girls plus Ken how to play spades. Hopefully, they'll get addicted to it. The night ends with a heated debate over "Hokey Pokey" vs "Oaky Cokey" (or something like that). The girls pretend as if the British invented the roller dance and we have a sing off where they proceed to crush us from the back of the van.

Now we're off to Brussels. Antwerp is Saturday night. Tonight we get a night off to do laundry. The girls have proclaimed that if they don't get a day off they're gonna go postal.


Antwerp 12-1

Antwerp was extremely lackluster. It is Ken's hometown and he seemed anxious to see some friends. We performed in a huge theatre/cultural center - Cultuurcentrum Luchtbal. The space was ripe for the visuals but the crew seemed too fatigued to rise up to the challenge. The ladies were out of tune every now and then. Adam and I tried a different version of Even If that didn't seem all that spectacular but maybe we need to just give it some time. We seem to be playing Frates over and over again. I think it's the best piece of the set but it's losing its charm.

The ladies are turning against each other in public. Nora was chastising Ela for her sleep walking and snoring. It's nice to hear them air their grievances in front of everyone even if they're turning agro.

After the show we drove back to Brussels. I slept in the van overnight to protect the equipment. We left Brussels for Bern at 7:30am. The drive was seven hours.

Bern, Switzerland 12-2

Bern was very Switzerland. You could tell that the venue was born of money. They treated us very well: Luke's projector setup was impressive, the food was home cooked in their kitchen, the wine was not night shop wine, they rented a mixing board for us that had enough aux sends and they were generally extremely generous. The venue was previously a steam factory. And now they seem to have the benefit of government funding. I feel so ignorant about Swiss culture. I don't really know much about it all. Their money is not Euro, their electricity is different and I'm not quite sure what the accepted languages are. Here am I truly a dumb American. Actually, I'm pretty stupid in most places.

I think I need to get out amongst the crowd more. We are isolating ourselves in the dressing room playing cards before the show. Maybe it would help to mingle.

I've decided to interview Paul on a daily basis for a kind of tour documentary. I love his version of English. I think it could be quite revealing.

Lyon, France 12-3

Today the sky is fighting. It can't decide whether it wants to be sunny or cloudy. We watch Donnie Darko and talk about intentionality and what to make of the film. Whenever I talk I have a tendency to shut down the conversation. I think the van is afraid I'm gonna start debating them. I hate that.

Once we show up it's obvious that everyone's hating each other. I can't remember the last day that it didn't rain. We clearly need to spend some non-Lid time in some of these cities that we're traveling to. Soundchecking and then hanging out at either the venue or the hotel is not cutting it.

I've eaten enough bread and cheese to reincarnate several cows.

We play in a boat. It's tiny. We're all packed in on stage. The stage is so crowded that we can basically talk to each other quietly during the set. Tiny places mean that it's loud on stage so everyone feels like the show went well. Everyone's drinking red wine to numb the pain and augment the merry. The first time I seem to enjoy the day is after the show drinking wine and smoking. The club is playing a For Carnation record that I haven't heard in a long time and it is sounding real good to me.

We sleep in a dump of a hotel. I fall asleep watching Big Love and thinking about how beautiful Jean Tripplehorn is. The morning hits and we get on the road early to Barcelona.

Barcelona, Spain 12-4

We watch Twin Peaks on the way to Barcelona. The log lady intros seems to be making the most sense to me: "We are ignorant of many things. So sadness in our ignorance is very real. What is this thing called a tear?" I appear to have a preference for the somberly obtuse.

We get to experience our first sun of the tour. Stopping at gas stations feels warm and delightful. Suddenly we feel a sense of renewal.

We played the Primavera festival in a big rock club that was too crowded for my taste. I drank too much whiskey. The show was loud. There were maybe 300 photos taken and two people with video cameras in the audience. Man, I hope someone sends some of that stuff our way.

The best part of the short Barcelona experience is the bar afterwards. We literally walk down the street from out hotel into an unmarked door where there's a bar with only antique couches, low level red lighting and they're playing real quiet music. I don't want to leave this bar ever. I don't even think something like this exists in LA or if it does I'm not privy to it. Hint hint people. Well I'm sure there are "important people" in LA that have access to this kind of thing but not the lowly non celebs. SO, let's start one up and I'll offer my non-services services for whatever I can.



Castellón, Spain 12-5

I've never even heard of this place before. If you asked me I would have said it is in Italy. The city is quite lovely. We play in an old historic building from the 19th century I think. The ladies appear defeated. They find a quiet room away from everyone else. Tonight we open up for John Vanderslice who I've never heard of. It's a sort of typical indie pop thing that I obviously don't have the acuity to give any serious attention. The guys in the band are all nice enough. The soundcheck of the drums takes at least 30 minutes. I would rather hear the death rattle of my only child.

I am overwhelmed with feelings of loneliness. The kind where you're around a bunch of people but yet you still feel alone. I stand outside the venue watching people walk by. I feel a tad like an eyesore. But I did see probably the most touching thing I've seen on tour. A woman sitting in the front row was visably weeping at the end of our performance. It's a bit how I feel at the moment but for different reasons.

We get lost on the short ride to find the hotel. The GPS seems to be failing us in Spain.

Lisbon 12-6

The drive is long, like wake up at 5:30 am too long. The van seems to be driving through clouds. I'm fearful that we'll arrive in Lisbon to cloudy skies. In the van we struggle to play the computer through the tv with sound coming out of both the sub woofer and the TV. We've played this game maybe a dozen times and Luke, Ken and myself are no smarter for it. Every now and then we can get it to work but then we loose it. We are employing the science of cavemen at the moment.

Lisbon is a super crazy beautiful city. Tiling on the buildings, no flat cement on the streets, just individual pieces of rock and cement all molding together to form a street. I can't imagine how long it must have taken. Built by slaves, it seems a possibility?

These two promoters – Nelson (who looks like a Portuguese Charles Manson) and Pedro (who learned his English from watching Transformers cartoons in the '80s a million times and actually has better English than myself) – chaperoned us on the town. The two of them were real salty and it was good to hang out with some smart asses. They're the kind of guys who make herpes jokes like every five minutes (really only Pedro). So at this point in the tour, they're right up my alley. If they were reading this, they'd probably say something like, "you said you were in herpes alley?" They take us to a nice restaurant and we have some fish. The wait staff thinks I'm ridiculous for taking the hot oil and pouring it on my food. I'm just desperate for something with flavor. But this meal is definitely the best of the tour.

We play in a beautiful theatre which is sort of near the financial city center that was built up by the dictator a hundred years ago. Even the marquee outside says "Stars of the Lid." Apparently there has never been a music performance there for fifteen years. The screen is a proper movie screen – huge. And Luke's films fill the area. His projections are so massive that I feel in danger of being crushed by them. I spend as much time as I can peering up at them.

Vigo 12-7

Today is Ela's b-day. She is turning a young 23. Hopefully, we'll do it up right for her tonight. She's in charge of the music in the van. Her iPod is blasting some Bill Evans at the moment.

On the road to Vigo, Luke explains to me that I'm experiencing "snack blockage" – the inability to find a suitable snack at gas stations. I can't tell you how many days I've waited to eat until 6pm.

PICTURES SOON!!!! As soon as Luke gets done setting up.

Alright, sorry I've been a bit negilent. Reading below will probably give you a better explanation than anything I could say here.

Braga, Portugal 12-8

We play in a concert hall. Tonight Lucy's not playing with us because her back hurts her too much. We'll be missing the cello but we can wingdangadingit. The place we're playing cost an insane amount of money to build. It has 10 floors and a couple of them are in the ground. We play on -4. On the ground floor there is a proper music hall decked out in plush red velvet seats and red curtains. The room is awash with red and gold. At 9:30 there are two pianists performing. We finish dinner in time to catch the performance. There are some beautiful moments but it often seems more about technique than about the music. This is my problem with lots of classical music: the need to play difficult pieces to demonstrate talent as opposed to playing music that is beautiful. This of course assumes that I have monopoly on what constitutes beautiful music. Skill seems to have so little to do with restraint. This is something I've noticed playing with well-trained musicians, they seem to be strangers to restraint.

10-12 Turino

Driving in Italy, the van is being thrown around from side to side because the back roads we're taking are so curvy. As the road throws me side to side it forces glances upon me. The area is quite stunning: streams, rows of green and read trees, and snow on the top of long flat bluffs. It's almost like the Christmas version of Once Upon A Time in the West.

Yesterday we drove from Portugal to Tolouse. It was clearly my worst day yet: I was hating everything. What did Barry Manilow say about going on tour? I tried to spend the day in the bed in the back of the van to get away from everyone. I know I was miserable to be around. As the ladies would say, I'm was having my "diva strap" moments. We watched a movie called "Calendar Girls." I called it a piece of crap and one of the ladies said that I'm dead inside. I wouldn't say that I'm dead inside. My insides are merely sleeping.

Tour puff has taken me over. Yesterday I ate chips for lunch and then bread and cheese and chips for dinner. It sucks being vegetarian on the road. Being a vegan on tour would be near impossible.

I doubt we're gonna make the show tonight. There's some kind of trucker strike that's blocking some of the highways. If we do make it, it'll be close.

Turino was a bust really. We played in a rock club that sounded super muffly. What makes a rock club? Besides the type of bands who perform there, you can tell a rock club by the three things: the sound system, the smell and the green room. (Why do they call it a green room anyways? Is this some kind of talk show throwback). If there are posters of bands like Alabama Thunder Pussy and the Digits, you know you have reached a rock club.

The show was not particularly well attended. The highlight of the evening for me was not having to eat cheese at dinner. I don't understand how Europeans are not fat. The food in the dressing room was gone in less than five minutes. You should see a hungry van devour pre-show snacks.

For me, I was happy to not be in the van anymore. Our travel from Portugal over two days demanded somewhere around sixteen hours in the van. I think I could have easily gone postal at any time on the ride. My desire to find some truffles during truffle season appears to be thwarted by the never ending race to the club and subsequent race to the hotel. Maybe someday we'll actually be able to do an enjoyable version of a tour where we don't have to be so freaked out by off days and the possibility of loosing money. Maybe we'd tour more often if we could find a way to be more humane about it.

We played with a band Blind Cave Salamander. They were a three piece: keys (Paul from North Carolina), cello (Julia from NYC) and guitar (Fabriesi from Turino). I was excited to hear a new cello player. And Julia was quite good, even though I thought her talents were a bit under utilized. We will perform with BCS for two shows.

11-12 Ravenna

A club in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people who I can't really speak to. The show was fine. The sound was good. The people were nice. The most memorable thing about the show was after the show. The club stayed open and let us drink. Dustin O'Halloran came to the show. Apparently he's a friend of Adams. We talked about LA, Berlin and living in Italy.


12-12 Rome

As we arrive in Rome there's a transportation strike in full bloom which means that gas stations don't have any gas. We have about 300km worth of gas in the tank, so the prospects of getting out of Rome are good but the chances of making it to a gas station with gas are remote. Also the shortage of gas clearly spells trouble for the show. Not for us really but for the promoters. They could loose a lot of money if no one shows it. It is just us tonight and we have plenty of time to play around in soundcheck. I teach the girls this new FA piece that I wrote in Bern. Lucy names it "The Ninja" after Paul, our trusty German ninja tour manager. We play it first in the set and works all right. Lucy claims in sounds very Eno and I give her a scoffish look.

Rome is by far the loudest crowd we have encountered. There's even someone in the audience singing during veggie. We end, the applause doesn't last, we talk about an encore and decide to scrap it because of all the chitter chatter in the audience. Then the promoter comes up to me and asks us to play another. To which I cordially decline.

So after the show we spend our time discussing whether we should drive to Geneva (or skip it) and risk not finding any gas because of the strike. Of course, everyone wants to bail, if only to find a moment of sanity in Rome. In the end, we of course drive to Geneva.

The show is ultimately not very well attended. The promoters try to pay us less than the guarantee. On top of that, we don't even get hotel rooms: the girls are staying in a hostel, Adam and myself are staying at one dude's house who can't speak any English and Paul and Luke are staying with the promoter. So spirits are low with the group divided. We arrived to Rome late, we didn't have a proper meal, and we would leave early. What I saw of Rome was what looked like some aquaduct wall next to the club. We could have been performing in Glendale for all I knew.

In every city we played in Italy, we had roughly the same amount of tickets purchased: 65. We will not play Italy again. It's just not worth it. No after parties, too far to travel, the possibilities of gas strikes, and lackluster attendance. Sorry Italy. Adam said more so than any other country in the last five years he's received the most emails from people living in Italy. Don't get me wrong: the promoters were very kind but there just doesn't seem to be enough interest to justify us playing there again.

13-12 Geneva

I am sick. I have what Ella first had, then Adam picked up and now I have it in full force. My cough sounds like I'm expelling gravel from a garbage disposal in my throat. Each cough produces a new throbbing sensation in my head.

We play with this kid from Chicago, Ronnin maybe. He redefines timid. Nice kid but a tad touched. He's hanging out with some girl who's performing tomorrow night and drinking all of our water. I'm ready to have another diva stroupe. Then in a roundabout fashion she accuses Paul of stealing some of Ronnin's CDRs that he burned off his computer for sale. That's exactly what Paul wants, is some half baked acoustic ballads burned from some kids computer. We shouldn't have come to Geneva.

At night we sleep at the venue and we are awoken by a punk rock party at 5am. We have random punk rockers coming in to our room drunken and stupid.

14-12 drive to Prague

15-12 Prague

Last night was Prague – the city that time forgot. So life in Prague clearly seems like it's either is or has been a tough one. The people sort of reminded me of this hickish Paradise Lost 1988-1992 fashion sense. The guys either had a serious under bite or an equally serious over bite, either way they had very strong jaws. The women were beautiful but the dudes were two seconds away from a heavy metal parking lot: a bunch of mullets wearing army fatigue camouflage. We went to these two bars after the show: the first one was like Berlin in the 80s: tons of metal bits which that could easily be the set for some Mad Max meets Hellblazer. OK, I'm clearly not explaining this correctly. Imagine a ceiling fan where the blades of the fan are composed of the metal from irons with red lights coming out of the steam holes. Then imagine a guy working at a door to get into one section of the club – he's white, with a baseball cap, baggy pants and as Adam said looks like Vanilla Ice's retarded half brother. There were plenty of these guys everywhere. It as if Europe's Final Countdown and Anthrax never went of out style. So then we go to this dance club to meet up with the girls. And yes, the 80s were in full effect there as well. Like oversize sweaters with phrases like "Rock n Roll" sewn in or giant boots with rainbow stockings underneath. And then add in that people were making out and dry humping all around in, you have a regular Saturday night in Prague.

Oh, the show: we played for an hour and a half for a large audience in a big club. We tried a new version of the Ninja for the encore one with a more elaborate part that Ella had written out.

16-12 Dresden

Tonight we played in Paul's club, ate Stalin cake, drank Bud Varr and meet Andrew Peckler. Andrew is a well spoken chap. He plays a set of mostly stuff I'm unfamiliar with (pieces from a non-Kranky record). Quite enjoyable. Afterwards Paul takes us to a nice bar and then to another where foosball can be found. Ken demonstrates his calling by mercilessly destroying who ever is on the other side.

17-12 Berlin

So we're stuck in Dresden until we find a new van. Let me back up for a moment. I wake up to meet Paul at 9:30am. We try to take his car and the van to a guitar store to get someone to look at my guitar. The van won't start. We show up at the store at 10:10 and the store supposedly opens at 10. There are people waiting outside to get in. We eventually get it and drop off the guitar. I go back to the hotel to wait for the van fix it people while Paul goes to a dentist appointment. Eventually a guy shows up and is wholely unsatisfied that I do not speak English. Later I get ready to finally do some laundry and find the Colonel milling around the lobby. I invite the Colonel to clean clothes with me. Now Luke is the kind of guy that can open up a 16mm projector and tinker around with it but he cannot figure out how to work a laundry machine in a foreign laundry matt. We talk about some incredibly cryptic feelings he's having while we folding. Now we wait. We wait over 6 hours to get a new van. Eventually, the rental company gives us a station wagon and a cargo van and we're supposed to trade them both in Berlin for a proper van. Before we leave for Berlin I pick up my guitar. It was only cleaned, the tech found nothing wrong. When I pick it up I ask him to plug it in. Turns out, nothing is fixed, it's still making the same grounding buzz. The doors open at 9 and we make it there at 9:30, right before Andrew is about to play. After waves of incompetence, we finally arrive. As you can probably tell, I am pleased as punch to be performing for the Berliners. The audience is very generous with their applause bringing us back twice. But after the show I am in a perpetual bad mood.

Anyone who ever tells you that touring is glamorous, you should immediately kick them in the kneecaps. My suit coat is ripped, my amp has a new level of buzz every night, my computer seems to acquire a new dent or scratch as if by magic, I have taken every combination of ibuprofen and wine and ibuprofen and beer there is known to man to numb, I cannot listen to soundcheck any more because I loathe the sound of both the song our soundman uses to check the house speakers and the sound he makes with his voice to check some effects. We are in a van more than we are not. It's relatively pointless to even drink much water during the day because you're just gonna have to go the bathroom non-stop.

Putting it in perspective, it's not the end of the world but it's not as rewarding as I would like it to be. Most of the reward is swallowed up by all the bullshit. At this point I'm feigning enjoyment while performing. I keep thinking if I just pretend well enough maybe I can fool myself into enjoying it more. This tour especially should be avoided. We have no time to check out anything besides a club, a deli tray in a dressing room, a shitty hotel, and various flavors of Pringles and tuna fish at rest stops. I just don't have it in me to be an entertainer, at least not at this pace, with these people. This is worse than most jobs I've worked in my life. I mean, it's fine for Adam who seems to have no aspirations beyond a hotel tv and late night eating. Adam is content to just play and move on. How I don't know? I guess if you don't get attached to a what a city has to offer then you can't miss it when it's gone? Maybe he's toured these cities so much that they are old hat.

18-12 Paris

Lucy has taken to petty crime. She is so bored that she is stealing ice tea and coffee to pass the time. At a truck stop she said "I have never been so bored." Not only can Stars of the Lid propel you to new states of non-consciousness but it can also bore you into low level criminal activity.

I loathe pretty much everyone and everything in this van. Oh yeah, it's a new van, just a little bit smaller and a little bit more uncomfortable than the previous one. I could be more specific about these observations but maybe I should edit them from public view.

So the show was lackluster. The girls were out of tune, the city was bone cold, the place we played was a dump, and my bathroom at home was bigger than the stage area. I could bitch more but I won't because right now I'm in a bar in the Netherlands. All I can say about Paris is that a jungle gym saved my life. I feel asleep surrounded by aluminum warmth and all was well again.

CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS by Luke!!! More will be posted soon. 15 minutes until the last show of the tour!!!!

Roger Batty interviews, typing real quickly, possibly with large fingers.