Part 11: The Valkyries
The tranquility of the late Summer´s dawning sun would give no warning. Children, innocent, gathering in the village school yard, quite oblivious. And the local Priest, administering some repairs to the venerable church, the Postman, half asleep, treading his small route, the Butcher, posting his daily specials of salamis and cold cuts, even the county Bus driver, lumbering, almost casually, squeezing his pre-analog (!) vehicle through pre-renaissance streets, whilst Artists hereabouts, not even close to awakening!... Yea! Nary a Soul was, indeed, wary of OUR arriving on our MOTO GUZZ1 1100 cc. with Panzer-like side-car, ascending into Italy from Swiss alpine heights, Nico, "der Kaiser biker", leather clad, goggles, helmet, and yours´ truly, similarly attired, though capped - in lieu of a spare lid - with WW1 German spike-army helmet, enthroned in the bikeś sidecar with bags, guitar, smoking a "rollie", clutching the black boom-box, Wagner-blasting: The Ride of the Valkyries!
Perhaps some outlying farmer, or some poor Shepherd boy, tending his flock with a cell phone, catching our progress, had telephoned ahead to give warning? -but no! Like lambs to the slaughter, we swooped down upon the ancient village of (name withheld due to film rights negotiations) and raising a ruckus, demanded the village´s lone cafe-bar to open and satiate our rabid thirst!
"Buonjorno, y´all! Campari and Soda. A Bloody Mary! Any nice girls ´round here?"
2010, sept. sent by Deutsche computer, near the town of...our man in europe: dave delacroix
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
OUR MAN in Europe: dave delacroix: part 10: "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Graf!"
Part 10: "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Graf!"
On tour - as it were - in Europe, life becomes a micro-cosm, adventures, beginnings and endings fly by, fast forward, hello-goodbyes, whilst the "good" goodbyes... always kill you the most. And saying "Auf wiedersehen" to my gracious host (the Count) Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen - who will drive me to the train station - makes goulash out of my blood, leaving me sizzling with emotion.
The Schloss, too, O venerable hospice! The bells, the bells! And the birds and the bees and all of the "Tannus" nature (bugs and all!) wild and free: Elysium!... For these are the (holy) days for which every vacationer pines, far from the hurly-burly of modern tourism.
It´s time to leave has I have gigs to the South in Freiburg I. Breisgau, by the Black Forest (Scwharzen-wald) and thence to Italy.
After several farewells to the folks of Usingen and friends of the "Schloss", the Count and I hit the road then stop atop a nearby hillock for a reflective view, the car is loaded with my gear plus a crate of Bitburger.
Drinking and enjoying a late afternoon cigarette, a church bells tomes from the distance and the sun´s embers coal-fire frame this land of golden crops. A short distance away a farmer drives a tractor, almost monotonously, pulling along some vehicle laden with hay.
In the short time I´ve been here...I´ve feasted, played concerts, formal and informal, have sat around camp fires by day and late into the night, swapping ideas and speaking of all things with the local "cogniscenti", and yet;
"Old man Reilly was right, Dave." says the Count. "We Artists come and go. We make Music, we speak Poetry, we philosophize!... "Aber", it´s a different light we shine on these...these Edens."
He pauses...his dark eyes, either tearful or glistening with a quiet terror. Then, sighing, "...But only the farmers have won."
I would wish for the film-soundtrack of that great Western movie, "The Magnificent Seven" to kick in!
Extinguishing his half smoked cigarette, the Count, Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen, walks determinedly back to the car:
"We ride!"
2010, dave delacroix/ Merzingen/our man in europe
On tour - as it were - in Europe, life becomes a micro-cosm, adventures, beginnings and endings fly by, fast forward, hello-goodbyes, whilst the "good" goodbyes... always kill you the most. And saying "Auf wiedersehen" to my gracious host (the Count) Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen - who will drive me to the train station - makes goulash out of my blood, leaving me sizzling with emotion.
The Schloss, too, O venerable hospice! The bells, the bells! And the birds and the bees and all of the "Tannus" nature (bugs and all!) wild and free: Elysium!... For these are the (holy) days for which every vacationer pines, far from the hurly-burly of modern tourism.
It´s time to leave has I have gigs to the South in Freiburg I. Breisgau, by the Black Forest (Scwharzen-wald) and thence to Italy.
After several farewells to the folks of Usingen and friends of the "Schloss", the Count and I hit the road then stop atop a nearby hillock for a reflective view, the car is loaded with my gear plus a crate of Bitburger.
Drinking and enjoying a late afternoon cigarette, a church bells tomes from the distance and the sun´s embers coal-fire frame this land of golden crops. A short distance away a farmer drives a tractor, almost monotonously, pulling along some vehicle laden with hay.
In the short time I´ve been here...I´ve feasted, played concerts, formal and informal, have sat around camp fires by day and late into the night, swapping ideas and speaking of all things with the local "cogniscenti", and yet;
"Old man Reilly was right, Dave." says the Count. "We Artists come and go. We make Music, we speak Poetry, we philosophize!... "Aber", it´s a different light we shine on these...these Edens."
He pauses...his dark eyes, either tearful or glistening with a quiet terror. Then, sighing, "...But only the farmers have won."
I would wish for the film-soundtrack of that great Western movie, "The Magnificent Seven" to kick in!
Extinguishing his half smoked cigarette, the Count, Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen, walks determinedly back to the car:
"We ride!"
2010, dave delacroix/ Merzingen/our man in europe
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 9: A Snake in June...
Part 9: A Snake in June...
From out of no-where, a great Summer storm blows in - from the Rockies, probably - forcing me to cancel an outdoor gig of music and bonfires/pagan exhibitionism in the Tannus forests; actually, quite near ROMAN Saalburg. (ref: euro-blog/part2: Saalburg, when it Sizzles!)
See? We Barbarians are still in evidence!
With nothing else planned and a let up in the rain, the Count (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) and I decide to attend the Usingen "bottle-grill-nacht", a commercialized County Fair; beer stalls, Wurst (hot dog) stands, trinket sales and what-not, and a stage that features a really bad Bayeriche (Bavarian) electronic-music trio, who, on their final - interminally long - last set, depart from the German and crow out: "Usingen, Say YEAH! Usingen, Say YEAH!" -a portion of the fair-goers responding.
Both the Count and I are physically sick; the Count, unpopularly so - representing the local nobility - conscripted into serving the Hot Dogs!
...Moving along.
Later, we run into an old Black Pearl bar habituee, name of "Reilly", and join him in Apfelwein and end of County Fair reflections, sitting on bales of straw, strewn around the fairground site for just this purpose.
He (Reilly) is an old Soul, an ex world traveller, now retired; Usingen, his place of birth.
He had - on my arrival - remembered me from a 2003 visit and we had always gotten along famously, our life stories, a shared book.
In his brackish (yes, brackish) English, he said: "Dave? What do you 'make' here? This is the farmer's land; their farms, their families, their crops, their cattle... I too love your music, but...here, I think is not for you; here, only the farmers win; only the farmers can...won?"
Needless to say, Reilly imparts this with all good reverence, toasting the Count and myself with the rich, local Apfelwein.
The following day finds the Summer storm still lumbering across the sky, making travel plans uninviting and the "Schloss", damp and cold.
There's an old Wood stove in my chambers so I give myself a refresher course in how to make a good fire; pop on some www.myspace.com/davedelacroix tunes on my laptop and "liberate" some Sec and a bottle of Gonfalone Chianti from the wine cellar.
Reilly is right, of course. But... to quote Jack Nicholson's JAKE GITES' "Chinatown" character: "When you're right, you're right. YOU"RE RIGHT! -and You're Right!.... Now, quit messing with the Venetian Blinds! -I just had 'em installed!"
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
From out of no-where, a great Summer storm blows in - from the Rockies, probably - forcing me to cancel an outdoor gig of music and bonfires/pagan exhibitionism in the Tannus forests; actually, quite near ROMAN Saalburg. (ref: euro-blog/part2: Saalburg, when it Sizzles!)
See? We Barbarians are still in evidence!
With nothing else planned and a let up in the rain, the Count (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) and I decide to attend the Usingen "bottle-grill-nacht", a commercialized County Fair; beer stalls, Wurst (hot dog) stands, trinket sales and what-not, and a stage that features a really bad Bayeriche (Bavarian) electronic-music trio, who, on their final - interminally long - last set, depart from the German and crow out: "Usingen, Say YEAH! Usingen, Say YEAH!" -a portion of the fair-goers responding.
Both the Count and I are physically sick; the Count, unpopularly so - representing the local nobility - conscripted into serving the Hot Dogs!
...Moving along.
Later, we run into an old Black Pearl bar habituee, name of "Reilly", and join him in Apfelwein and end of County Fair reflections, sitting on bales of straw, strewn around the fairground site for just this purpose.
He (Reilly) is an old Soul, an ex world traveller, now retired; Usingen, his place of birth.
He had - on my arrival - remembered me from a 2003 visit and we had always gotten along famously, our life stories, a shared book.
In his brackish (yes, brackish) English, he said: "Dave? What do you 'make' here? This is the farmer's land; their farms, their families, their crops, their cattle... I too love your music, but...here, I think is not for you; here, only the farmers win; only the farmers can...won?"
Needless to say, Reilly imparts this with all good reverence, toasting the Count and myself with the rich, local Apfelwein.
The following day finds the Summer storm still lumbering across the sky, making travel plans uninviting and the "Schloss", damp and cold.
There's an old Wood stove in my chambers so I give myself a refresher course in how to make a good fire; pop on some www.myspace.com/davedelacroix tunes on my laptop and "liberate" some Sec and a bottle of Gonfalone Chianti from the wine cellar.
Reilly is right, of course. But... to quote Jack Nicholson's JAKE GITES' "Chinatown" character: "When you're right, you're right. YOU"RE RIGHT! -and You're Right!.... Now, quit messing with the Venetian Blinds! -I just had 'em installed!"
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Monday, August 16, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 8: "Riders on the Storm".
Part 8: "Riders on the Storm."
Never put me in the front seat of a Taxi. Always...in the back.
It's late, having performed a Gig at Usingens Casablanca Music Palace; bar closing time, on the cusp of dawn.
"Gute nacht, Achim!!" (the Casa's charming owner)
Our Taxi driver for this evening; a farmer's wife-country girl:
"Where you go?"
...And I look at "mein chauffer", Roxanne (?); OK, Helmut! And with a wink to the lads and lasses crammed into the back seat, say: "Ich lieber dicht!"
The "great white" (big fella/girl) considers this for a moment, and without actually blinking an eye, says:
"Merzhausen!"
(Peels of laughter!)
Of course, "then"... I really AM in love.
(O Bitburgers! O Bitburgers!)
It's been something of a hectic past day and night. The Count's (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) girlfriend, Udith, I've conscripted to be my "Agent de Livre" for a token 20% of all future earnings from Music & writings, which, on reflection, causes me some concern...as I already owe 20% to my Editors; Miss J. de Lorca (in the USA), Miss J. Manley (Australia), my Accountessa: a whopping 50% (also in the USA), investors, Patrons, etc., leaving me wondering just HOW I'm gonna pay the bills!...
OOPS! -yup. Tourist info;
"sur la route".
-Fricken Castle, on your left.
Camel Ranch (in Germany!), THERE! -right there!
Fachtwerkhausen, all over the place.
-ZOOM!
Roxanne/Helmuts zips us by!
Using-Merz, on the cusp of dawn.
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Never put me in the front seat of a Taxi. Always...in the back.
It's late, having performed a Gig at Usingens Casablanca Music Palace; bar closing time, on the cusp of dawn.
"Gute nacht, Achim!!" (the Casa's charming owner)
Our Taxi driver for this evening; a farmer's wife-country girl:
"Where you go?"
...And I look at "mein chauffer", Roxanne (?); OK, Helmut! And with a wink to the lads and lasses crammed into the back seat, say: "Ich lieber dicht!"
The "great white" (big fella/girl) considers this for a moment, and without actually blinking an eye, says:
"Merzhausen!"
(Peels of laughter!)
Of course, "then"... I really AM in love.
(O Bitburgers! O Bitburgers!)
It's been something of a hectic past day and night. The Count's (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) girlfriend, Udith, I've conscripted to be my "Agent de Livre" for a token 20% of all future earnings from Music & writings, which, on reflection, causes me some concern...as I already owe 20% to my Editors; Miss J. de Lorca (in the USA), Miss J. Manley (Australia), my Accountessa: a whopping 50% (also in the USA), investors, Patrons, etc., leaving me wondering just HOW I'm gonna pay the bills!...
OOPS! -yup. Tourist info;
"sur la route".
-Fricken Castle, on your left.
Camel Ranch (in Germany!), THERE! -right there!
Fachtwerkhausen, all over the place.
-ZOOM!
Roxanne/Helmuts zips us by!
Using-Merz, on the cusp of dawn.
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Friday, August 13, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 7: "Mein Blauer Himmel"
Part 7: "Mein Blauer Himmel"
The Gypsy Kings are blasting out their "Arabesque" via the jukebox, including "Bambolay-oh!", which - I surmise - hungover or not, would even inspire a Dominican Mother Superior to attempt the Lambada.
I'm holding the fort/ship in Usingen's Black Pearl bar - meticulously abiding by the "Code" - with leggy blonde barkeep, Gaby.
Just we two, mouthing every Spannish musical syllable and word, equally oblivious as to their content.
...Funny kind of day... Finally figured out how my new credit card works; finally figured out the Laptop's net-surf stick, the inter-net signal/lack of one.
In the community I wave to the odd soul...at the local market/beer store. They wave back; this I could get used to...amidst the "Tannus" Summer charm.
Initially, these parts were an alien world and on arriving, clad in black leather jacket and Stevie-Ray leather hat, promenading and viewing these "Fachwerkhausen" hamlets and Usingen Stadt itself, I must have appeared somewhat like Steve Martin's Todd Wilkinson character: the New York hood, relocated to no-where's Ville in the Witness Protection programme; the movie: MY BLUE HEAVEN....he, looking like a fish out of water.
"Hi, Mr Wilkinson!" hail the kids, cycling by his surburban tract housing home.
"Hi, Kids!" -he replies, standing - zoot suited - in the garden, posing with his lawn mower; DOH-ish, exhuding upper New Jersey confusion.
-As here (in Usingen):
(Me) "Guten tag!"
The locals: (in Deutsch) "Git the frick outta here!"
Ja-ja. It takes a while. Soon, the locals find out who you are, who you actually know here (the Count), then the invites gusher forth; swimming parties by local lakes, bonfire parties deep in the forest, BBQ's. Suddenly you're a flash in the pan-EDWARD SCISSORHANDS and EVERYONE wants a piece of you for their Social showcase.
Whilst the party lasts you WILL have fun, you MAY fall in love/and are bewitched.
So? SNIP-SNIP! ...."I'm WIV ju!.... NO! I DON'T mean, 'I'm WITH you', I mean: I AM WIV JU!"
...I make a note to pinch myself sometime soon, but meantime, savor these Salad days and all it's incumbent spiritual ephemera.
Valentin, Ivan, Horst, Udith, Nadine, Marius, the Count (Alexi) of course, Mikail, MAIKE "und alles" say "Hi!" to Denver, USA....whilst one is reminded of the Monty Python comedy sketch: "Can we call you Bruce?" -because for the life of me, I've REALLY searched but I can't find ANYONE with names like Steve, Bill or Janice!
"Prossit!"
Aug (I think) 2010, Usingen
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
The Gypsy Kings are blasting out their "Arabesque" via the jukebox, including "Bambolay-oh!", which - I surmise - hungover or not, would even inspire a Dominican Mother Superior to attempt the Lambada.
I'm holding the fort/ship in Usingen's Black Pearl bar - meticulously abiding by the "Code" - with leggy blonde barkeep, Gaby.
Just we two, mouthing every Spannish musical syllable and word, equally oblivious as to their content.
...Funny kind of day... Finally figured out how my new credit card works; finally figured out the Laptop's net-surf stick, the inter-net signal/lack of one.
In the community I wave to the odd soul...at the local market/beer store. They wave back; this I could get used to...amidst the "Tannus" Summer charm.
Initially, these parts were an alien world and on arriving, clad in black leather jacket and Stevie-Ray leather hat, promenading and viewing these "Fachwerkhausen" hamlets and Usingen Stadt itself, I must have appeared somewhat like Steve Martin's Todd Wilkinson character: the New York hood, relocated to no-where's Ville in the Witness Protection programme; the movie: MY BLUE HEAVEN....he, looking like a fish out of water.
"Hi, Mr Wilkinson!" hail the kids, cycling by his surburban tract housing home.
"Hi, Kids!" -he replies, standing - zoot suited - in the garden, posing with his lawn mower; DOH-ish, exhuding upper New Jersey confusion.
-As here (in Usingen):
(Me) "Guten tag!"
The locals: (in Deutsch) "Git the frick outta here!"
Ja-ja. It takes a while. Soon, the locals find out who you are, who you actually know here (the Count), then the invites gusher forth; swimming parties by local lakes, bonfire parties deep in the forest, BBQ's. Suddenly you're a flash in the pan-EDWARD SCISSORHANDS and EVERYONE wants a piece of you for their Social showcase.
Whilst the party lasts you WILL have fun, you MAY fall in love/and are bewitched.
So? SNIP-SNIP! ...."I'm WIV ju!.... NO! I DON'T mean, 'I'm WITH you', I mean: I AM WIV JU!"
...I make a note to pinch myself sometime soon, but meantime, savor these Salad days and all it's incumbent spiritual ephemera.
Valentin, Ivan, Horst, Udith, Nadine, Marius, the Count (Alexi) of course, Mikail, MAIKE "und alles" say "Hi!" to Denver, USA....whilst one is reminded of the Monty Python comedy sketch: "Can we call you Bruce?" -because for the life of me, I've REALLY searched but I can't find ANYONE with names like Steve, Bill or Janice!
"Prossit!"
Aug (I think) 2010, Usingen
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
Sunday, August 8, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 6: The Bohemians.
Part 6: The Bohemians
As old as you get, traditional situations, recurr, never ending, punctuating your life-style "giving it" that style throughout your days. (I know: Wisdom-city!)
It's friday morning, hinting at noon, the "Tannus" Summer bounty is all around and presented on the long breakfast table in the Schloss's bounteous garden.
The characters in this scene (other than myself) are the Count (Herr Graff Alex von Ludwigshafen, Aristo - of course - and incidentally, an ex-Soccer star), Arnd (German name, pronounced, Aunt), musical instrument designer, including Mouth-harp, the beautiful Christiania (writer and translator) ...and Roland.
(Aside to the count) "Does anyone know what Roland does?"
No matter. An intellectual/fine mind of the first order.
....But! To "fruhstuck" (Breakfast) The sometimes overwhelming array of hams, cheeses, wursts, eggs, bread, fruit, schinkens, coffee/tea pots, Sec (Champers), etc., etc....
Personally, these gatherings...and as in this case, the morning after playing a concert (tack on late-after gig revelry) are here routine but it's all THIS boy can do to....to crack a Bitburger and fire up a smoke, glad to see my German comrades have an appetite and are as festive as the night before.
(Yay! Sleepovers!)
Thus a serenity casts its spell over the breakfast scene and much chatter, the company quite oblivious to this picture for future bouts of nostalgia, leastways: for me.
A digest of the last night's concert is worked and re-worked; who was (playing) brilliant? Who sucked? Who was that blonde in the leather? Name? Phone number?... Phone number?
DOH!
Then to Politics, of course, the War (any one), showbiz, someone cracks a joke: POP! More Sec. POP! More Bitburger. Thus, the day will pass into late afternoon, one by one the company dispersing; hugs, hugs, hugs.
...I'm thinking I've spent my life with these - not necessarily "these" - but "these" Bohemians. We've teamed up. We've come and gone, we've passed in the night, we've jammed Music, recited Poetry, hung out, road-tripped, holiday-ed, et. al: the blood of my Life's veins.
Finally, I alone remain, surrounded by the garden, the breakfast table's disarray; Christiana has taken a parting photograph of just this scene.
Perhaps, I reflect, we'll post it on the inter-net...? But then, Ding-Dong! -the Schloss's doorbell. A girlfriend from last night's concert has arrived bearing Video footage of that action.
POP! A new bottle of Sec.
-laptops flip open.
POP! Another Bitburger.
Once more, dear friends, into the breach!
Merzhausen. Aug 2010
c. 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
As old as you get, traditional situations, recurr, never ending, punctuating your life-style "giving it" that style throughout your days. (I know: Wisdom-city!)
It's friday morning, hinting at noon, the "Tannus" Summer bounty is all around and presented on the long breakfast table in the Schloss's bounteous garden.
The characters in this scene (other than myself) are the Count (Herr Graff Alex von Ludwigshafen, Aristo - of course - and incidentally, an ex-Soccer star), Arnd (German name, pronounced, Aunt), musical instrument designer, including Mouth-harp, the beautiful Christiania (writer and translator) ...and Roland.
(Aside to the count) "Does anyone know what Roland does?"
No matter. An intellectual/fine mind of the first order.
....But! To "fruhstuck" (Breakfast) The sometimes overwhelming array of hams, cheeses, wursts, eggs, bread, fruit, schinkens, coffee/tea pots, Sec (Champers), etc., etc....
Personally, these gatherings...and as in this case, the morning after playing a concert (tack on late-after gig revelry) are here routine but it's all THIS boy can do to....to crack a Bitburger and fire up a smoke, glad to see my German comrades have an appetite and are as festive as the night before.
(Yay! Sleepovers!)
Thus a serenity casts its spell over the breakfast scene and much chatter, the company quite oblivious to this picture for future bouts of nostalgia, leastways: for me.
A digest of the last night's concert is worked and re-worked; who was (playing) brilliant? Who sucked? Who was that blonde in the leather? Name? Phone number?... Phone number?
DOH!
Then to Politics, of course, the War (any one), showbiz, someone cracks a joke: POP! More Sec. POP! More Bitburger. Thus, the day will pass into late afternoon, one by one the company dispersing; hugs, hugs, hugs.
...I'm thinking I've spent my life with these - not necessarily "these" - but "these" Bohemians. We've teamed up. We've come and gone, we've passed in the night, we've jammed Music, recited Poetry, hung out, road-tripped, holiday-ed, et. al: the blood of my Life's veins.
Finally, I alone remain, surrounded by the garden, the breakfast table's disarray; Christiana has taken a parting photograph of just this scene.
Perhaps, I reflect, we'll post it on the inter-net...? But then, Ding-Dong! -the Schloss's doorbell. A girlfriend from last night's concert has arrived bearing Video footage of that action.
POP! A new bottle of Sec.
-laptops flip open.
POP! Another Bitburger.
Once more, dear friends, into the breach!
Merzhausen. Aug 2010
c. 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
Friday, August 6, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 5: "Fanfare!"
Part 5: "Fanfare".
The BULBOUS ORGAN in the "kirche" (church) of Usingen promotes VIAGRA by its very existence; sublime, rotunde and magnificent in its every muscular posture.
It BALOONS at you!
...The thing, built/errected in 1749 AD positively oozes slumbering power and begs any passing electrician to turn on the juice in the latent hope that some nimble fingered Fraulein - finding the lights on - will happenstance impart her virginal concepts and drink deep from Music's well.
It's just a thought, of course.
However; when "ye olde local Sexton" (church-caretaker dude) shows up...
...coughing on a cigarette..
... breath rank with Apfelwein...
... grunting in shirt sleeves
... barely suspended pants...
... dangling
- upper ass crack bare -
...takes his place/spits on the reowned organ's keys...
...then launches into Emerson, Lake & Palmers version of Strauss's "Fanfare"...
(with gusto!)
....you know the rest of your day is shot.
Fortunately, "die kleine stadt" of Usingen is a dead ringer for Thomas Hardy's Casterbridge (the Mayor of): Dorchester. (England, Colonials!)
"Ach, so!" -there are many cafes/restaurants in which to find succour.
But back to the ORGAN... Rococco, baroque. A Moby Dick!
And if/when (stay with me) said Fraulein Virgin flutters into said church/discovers organ/ apparently at rest/ places her honest buns on the keyboard stool... and then her fingers caress its monstrous keys;
BEHOLD!!!!!
It's downright Spiritual.
The bells in this church have been seeing the local populace from birth to passing for centuries. No human rings them, of course; today they have a mechanical - clock-set - gizmo. (!?)
But...in THIS "Tannus" town, presently enjoying an Elysian Summer, the non-papist bells ring out at appointed, important times (usually, when I'm trying to crash) and people are born, live, love and die...and the farmers here abouts, tend their crops.....:)
Bad Anspach, Aug 2010 (at the Portuguese Club)
c 2010 our man in europe/dave delacroix
Note: look out for the next OUR MAN in EUROPE sketch: "On her Majesty's Frickin Service!"
The BULBOUS ORGAN in the "kirche" (church) of Usingen promotes VIAGRA by its very existence; sublime, rotunde and magnificent in its every muscular posture.
It BALOONS at you!
...The thing, built/errected in 1749 AD positively oozes slumbering power and begs any passing electrician to turn on the juice in the latent hope that some nimble fingered Fraulein - finding the lights on - will happenstance impart her virginal concepts and drink deep from Music's well.
It's just a thought, of course.
However; when "ye olde local Sexton" (church-caretaker dude) shows up...
...coughing on a cigarette..
... breath rank with Apfelwein...
... grunting in shirt sleeves
... barely suspended pants...
... dangling
- upper ass crack bare -
...takes his place/spits on the reowned organ's keys...
...then launches into Emerson, Lake & Palmers version of Strauss's "Fanfare"...
(with gusto!)
....you know the rest of your day is shot.
Fortunately, "die kleine stadt" of Usingen is a dead ringer for Thomas Hardy's Casterbridge (the Mayor of): Dorchester. (England, Colonials!)
"Ach, so!" -there are many cafes/restaurants in which to find succour.
But back to the ORGAN... Rococco, baroque. A Moby Dick!
And if/when (stay with me) said Fraulein Virgin flutters into said church/discovers organ/ apparently at rest/ places her honest buns on the keyboard stool... and then her fingers caress its monstrous keys;
BEHOLD!!!!!
It's downright Spiritual.
The bells in this church have been seeing the local populace from birth to passing for centuries. No human rings them, of course; today they have a mechanical - clock-set - gizmo. (!?)
But...in THIS "Tannus" town, presently enjoying an Elysian Summer, the non-papist bells ring out at appointed, important times (usually, when I'm trying to crash) and people are born, live, love and die...and the farmers here abouts, tend their crops.....:)
Bad Anspach, Aug 2010 (at the Portuguese Club)
c 2010 our man in europe/dave delacroix
Note: look out for the next OUR MAN in EUROPE sketch: "On her Majesty's Frickin Service!"
Monday, August 2, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix: Part 4: "All that Jazz..."
Part 4: "All that Jazz..."
"Have you ever tried having sex with a Chicken?" asks Lenny Bruce.
"Yes! We know!" -we holler back: "THEY'RE TOO SHORT!!!"
A tad like Life. By the time you get a handle on it, you're dead.
So is the Chicken.
Opting to stay/reside overseas with friends - as opposed to getting cleaned out with Hotel expenses - is not dis-similar. You're IN -on the inside, but it's initially, alien; domestically, though quite educational.
..... Different people's routines, culture, wacky foods, habits, funny toilets, bathrooms, coffee pots. Who recycles? Who dosent? Don't pee in the garden, smoking, popping the "cork" at the crack of dawn, or inviting EVERYONE from the (new) local Pub to your host's address for drinks at 3 in the morning: Faux Pas City!
(Wotchagonnado?)
Eventually, however, you hopefully... strike a chord and learn how your overseas friends live, and they you; you hit or miss and are re-invited back, or excommunicated and sent into bemused exile.
With Musical AND Culinary talents at my disposal I invariably redeem myself, no matter what; sorta-mostly.
But then, I'm just one of THOSE guys who fits in pretty smart-ish: not quite the "DOS EQUIS Mexican beer TV ad" super-dude, but certainly debonair, a cool wardrobe, etiquette, languages, dialects, local customs: DOH? -no problemo!
"DOES ANYBODY HERE SPEAK FRICKIN' ENGLISH!?"
You can tell... just by looking at me. World traveller. I belong. Mr SMOOTH. Storm in a tea-cup!....(?)
In the space of a "holiday", however, you never really quite "go native" regardless of how many local tee-shirts you buy/wear (tres, tres gauche) and plunging into a foreign Supermarket CAN leave you confounded; like a scene from the movie, "The Hurt Locker". The indecipherable multitude of product labelling kills you, regardless of what they proffer.
Yet bewildered though you may be, your inner nature prevails. You buy some "blumen" (Roses) for your hostess, some "MEDICINAL" Marijuana for your host, you make a big deal out of cooking - for all - the simplest Curry.
A song in your heart?...
Then sing it.
You'll be fine.
Now! Where's that frickin' Chicken!?...
Watch out for the next OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix sketch: "All QUIET on the Western Front".
c 2010 davedelacroix/our man in europe
"Have you ever tried having sex with a Chicken?" asks Lenny Bruce.
"Yes! We know!" -we holler back: "THEY'RE TOO SHORT!!!"
A tad like Life. By the time you get a handle on it, you're dead.
So is the Chicken.
Opting to stay/reside overseas with friends - as opposed to getting cleaned out with Hotel expenses - is not dis-similar. You're IN -on the inside, but it's initially, alien; domestically, though quite educational.
..... Different people's routines, culture, wacky foods, habits, funny toilets, bathrooms, coffee pots. Who recycles? Who dosent? Don't pee in the garden, smoking, popping the "cork" at the crack of dawn, or inviting EVERYONE from the (new) local Pub to your host's address for drinks at 3 in the morning: Faux Pas City!
(Wotchagonnado?)
Eventually, however, you hopefully... strike a chord and learn how your overseas friends live, and they you; you hit or miss and are re-invited back, or excommunicated and sent into bemused exile.
With Musical AND Culinary talents at my disposal I invariably redeem myself, no matter what; sorta-mostly.
But then, I'm just one of THOSE guys who fits in pretty smart-ish: not quite the "DOS EQUIS Mexican beer TV ad" super-dude, but certainly debonair, a cool wardrobe, etiquette, languages, dialects, local customs: DOH? -no problemo!
"DOES ANYBODY HERE SPEAK FRICKIN' ENGLISH!?"
You can tell... just by looking at me. World traveller. I belong. Mr SMOOTH. Storm in a tea-cup!....(?)
In the space of a "holiday", however, you never really quite "go native" regardless of how many local tee-shirts you buy/wear (tres, tres gauche) and plunging into a foreign Supermarket CAN leave you confounded; like a scene from the movie, "The Hurt Locker". The indecipherable multitude of product labelling kills you, regardless of what they proffer.
Yet bewildered though you may be, your inner nature prevails. You buy some "blumen" (Roses) for your hostess, some "MEDICINAL" Marijuana for your host, you make a big deal out of cooking - for all - the simplest Curry.
A song in your heart?...
Then sing it.
You'll be fine.
Now! Where's that frickin' Chicken!?...
Watch out for the next OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix sketch: "All QUIET on the Western Front".
c 2010 davedelacroix/our man in europe
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