Night of the Unexpected

The Paradiso, in Amsterdam, has got to be the best music venue I've ever been in. It's an old church, a big one, converted by an arts group, apparently, into a giant arts and music hall, largely known nowadays for rock shows. Last time here I struck out getting in to see Kings of Leon, but this time I was luckier.

Thursday was the Night of the Unexpected, whose headliner was Four Tet, the electronic artist responsible for some of the best remixes around and a body of his own work that I've recently been turned onto, which is fantastic as well. So, partly just to see the place, and partly because I was curious about how a guy with some laptops would convert to the live setting, I recruited John McPoland, an Irish resident of Amsterdam who I met in Austin and have seen here since, and Chicago Tom, of Madison, WI, and Pierre, Londoner who lives in Amsterdam, to escort me to the hall. They were all more than game, and a brief bike ride brought us to the venue.

It was amazing. There was something going on in every room from the basement to the upper floors, rooms and halls and staircases everywhere, people milling about all over, just an incredible scene. A lone laptopper making gorgeous squalls of noise in the basement cafeteria, in the main room, the first time through, drums standing upright and twelve feet across being pounded on by black clothed players in time with the drums across the chasm of space between the church walls, a four-piece instrumental act doing hard drummed ambient sounds up on the third floor, a horn section holding down a landing on a staircase, in the main room, the second time through, a 40 or so member vocal choir, singing what sounded more like sounds than words, very low and spooky, really beautiul. And there was more than that, but we headed for the main room to make sure we caught Four Tet'sstart.

We arrived to four guys with laptops facing the audience from the main stage. They were sending sheets of sound and feedback into the crowd in what seemed like a prolonged show-ending crescendo, but Pierre said it was Four Tet. After the noise ended, though, it appeared through the dark and the smoke that they were packing up. But the noise continued, and soon it became beat-driven, and suddenly in the middle of the main floor a stage lit up red and it was manned--and a lone skinny guy with a big bush of curly black hair started rocking over a console, churning out the familiar opening to the new album,"an intense track called "Joy."

The crowd exploded. The beat kicked in, and the dude just had everyone rapt. I haven't seen too many electronica shows, but this was far more engaging than I'd have expected. Maybe it was the venue or the mood or the whole deal of being here in Amsterdam seeing a show like this surrounded by these people, but the whole set was just mind-blowing. He played lots off his new record, and I have to say I'm very glad I've been listening to his stuff a lot lately because being familiar with it changed everything. I could hear when he'd introduce a sound element minutes before he got to that actual song, and it all fit together so beautifully that I could just imagine some old free-jazzer seeing this and being just blown away.

So, my first foray into The Paradiso was a complete success. It'll be Wilco on Monday, which I'm very, very, very excited for.

News

I'd be remiss if I didn't say something about what we're hearing about Hurricane Katrina over here. The coverage has been relatively constant, but removed as we are from television and from the language of most papers, we are far from inundated with it. What we are reading and seeing, though, is horrific beyond words. It's hard to believe--especially under the circumstances in which we're seeing it--that this is happening in the US and not in some far removed foreign country. Third world country. South America, maybe, or an island in the Carribean, washed out because the resources for prevention or for response are just not there. And they're now waiting for us, the US, to come in and help them recover. But it is the US, and that is really hard to grasp.

We're reading about the political fallout, too, and though it's callous to think of this in political terms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't satisfied that at last, at long last, the administration is being called to task for its incompetence. For its motives and its actions and for it's colossal fuckups, which just keep coming.

OK, no more of the politics. We'll just hope that from here on out everything that can be done, will be done.

Hope you all are well.

Bloemgracht

We've brought good weather to Amsterdam again.

It's been a gloomy summer here, apparently, but on our first day in the city the sun has been shining and a cool breeze has brought the hot temperatures to perfect. It's great to walk around when everyone's out and moving around and in a good mood because it's a beautiful day.

We got in from Paris last night around 8:30 and made our way to Gerry and Christina's apartment on Bloemgracht by tram. Piece of cake. Nice to actually feel like we know our way around. Gerry and I ran out and got a few pizzas, and we ate them at their place with a couple glasses of wine. We were all worn out, so it was an early night--followed by a LONG night's sleep. The guest bed here is so comfortable that I sleep like the dead and have a hard time getting out of it in the morning.

Today Cathy and I went down to a big shopping strip near Dam Square to poke around and get a few things, and mostly just to get a shawarma at a little restaurant she'd eaten at before. We didn't find that one, but the one we found was just as good. Sliced rotisseried lamb on pita with a huge 'salad bar' full of pickled things, vegetables, and sauces to muck it up with. Delicious.

After we returned, I headed out again to stock Gerry up on beer and get some yogurt and fruit for breakfast (man, I can't tell you how tired I am of baguette and soft foil triangle cheese and weak coffee for breakfast, nice though it was). A quick trip down the alley, past the coffee shop (ahem) and the Cafe Chris--a cool little pub of dark wood and striped awnings, today with a good handful of people sitting at tables on the sidewalk--and a quick right at the main street gets you to Gall & Gall (pronounced cchhhalllenccchhhall), and a half-block double back gets you to the small market. Everything so close and small and personal-like. I carted the two crates of empty bottles to and the one crate of full bottles back from the store on the rear rack of Christina's two-ton dark green jalopy of a city bike. Wonderful machine. You could run it through a brick wall and maybe knock the front wheel out of true.

Tonight we celebrate Christina's birthday with dinner out and some drinks, and who knows what-all else. With the impending long wedding weekend, it's likely to be a mellow night, which is just fine.

That's all for now. Hope you're all well.

Leaving Paris

We have enjoyed ourselves immensely, eaten well, contemplated great art, imbibed with style, and improved our relative standings in fashion (well, Cathy has), and now it is time to go. Though we are sorry to be leaving here, we are very excited to be heading to Amsterdam.

Paris has been a wonderful and unique experience, and though Ill spare any who read the inevitable renewed vigor I feel toward city livin, suffice to say that, yes, there it is again, and I only expect it to deepen during our stay in Amsterdam.

I expect computer access to be easier to come by there, so drop us a line if you like, and this time well be able to answer. And maybe Ill even find an apostrophe on them Dutch keyboards.

Au revoir!