Awkward Pose

That’s really it?! Our last round on the old tour bus for Suburbs. A scant 6 shows flies by and you forget to remember it’s the last night on the bus. One more re-packing of the dirty clothes, a final destination coffee stop (that one being Artisan Roast, Edinburgh), the last field, and boom. Airport time.

on coffee stop (that one being ArtisanRoast, Edinburgh), the last not so muddy field, and boom. Airport time.

Rewind, I left off mid-way through this mini tour. The shows were all fine, good, a mixture of fine and good. Copenhagen won out for expressive-ity. Amsterdam lost, as usual. But still fine- this many times around the tour globe and you come to expect the quiet enjoyment of the Dutch. And I quietly enjoyed their city. This time we hotel-ed on the right side of the tracks, a little farther flung from station madness, along one of those beautiful canals. The handsomest windows in the all the world I do believe reside here. Stacked up, gorgeous and uneven over tall tall doors. I want to live in them.

Notable day off happenings: Pancakes, the new Anton Corbijn exhibit at FOAM, and the property of…. bag shop where they serve excellent espresso while you try not to spend the tours profit on luggage. Ashtanga yoga in a hotel room crowded with friends, blasting LCD’s Freak Out/Starry Eyes. These are surprising times, yes. My travelling yogi teacher friend Ryan Leier stuck it out with us for the better part of the tour, being a welcome presence and convincing more bodies to join our yoga practices whenever there was time. A little bridge was made from my solitary world of self practice into the larger context of tour. Jokes around the dinner table about the poses. It’s not about pushing yoga onto everyone all the time. But making it available for the trying, in this nice casual way. 

From Amsterdam to Manchester, a day off in the rain and a large show at the MEN. One of those massive cold grey buildings we’ve spent the day in before. When filled with people they can become almost festive, the British crowd is a slight bit more vocal than some.

And then to the most epic venue of the tour- the Edinburgh Castle. I had the chance to wander up one of those great green hills in the city during the day with a local friend. From anywhere in the city this massive green volcanic shelf of land looks far away and untouchable, and then literally you’re on it within a half hours walk. Windswept and perfectly picnic-able, I got to see the place from the top, a rare view. She pointed out the castle, the military tattoo which we were planning a cannon fire with later. The Royal Mile, the government buildings, truly a beautiful city if the sun ever shone. Later on, we did our last yoga practice with Ryan. A room at the top of a stone staircase in one of the castle wings. Bad things had happened here you could tell. Gnarly Scottish lion figures atop the fireplace. We practiced in a circle on the red rug.

The crowd was less unhinged than their Glaswegian neighbours have been in the past. Something reserved here. But well received in the cold castle yard, it was one of those I can’t believe I’m playing in a…..moments. The cannons fired at the end, I was over-prepared. They sounded like popcorn from where we stood ears covered. 

A headache made of single malt Scottish whiskey carried us to Ireland. A night off in the most charming house I can imagine. 400 years old, Irish countryside, burning peat in the fireplace, chickens and ducks running around stony gardens. This is a contrast to rock shows in general. Electric Picnic followed. A crisp sunny day, a somehow clean green field with tons of room for wandering. Our favourite coffee nerds from Third Floor Espresso in Dublin joined us for the day. They’re really the rockstars. We watched Blond Redhead in a tent. James Blake blew my face off. Lykke Li right before us rocking out in black robes. It’s a rare treat when you can watch bands from front of house right before go time. And then we went, from the first note the crowd was giving off more energy than I could fathom. This is what happened the first time we played Electric Picnic years ago. And this time on the main stage at night was more so. Total submersion for the whole set. You could see that crowd and us just lifting off into space.

And that was it, onto an amazingly long travel day for the worst zombie. Hours in the Charles de Gaulle airport which eventually saw me doing, yes, airport yoga. I was this sad wooden doll all slumpy in a chair. Yawning, hurting from too much and not enough. I started stretching and before I knew it I was pulling out forward bends and dancers pose, as discreetly as possible of course. Sometimes you have to have absolutely no shame. I felt about $100 better I can tell you that much. 

And then home. There is much to do in a small amount of time. Like change my violin strings, did I forget to mention that for the first time in my entire career I broke a string?! Crown of Love, right before the final chorus. Such an epic moment for an E string to snap. Pretty satisfying actually, like I was doing it right, and of course that means breaking stuff…. 

A bientot.

Oh, this fellow backstage at Electric Picnic. Be-friended one of our friends, to much gleeful recounting.