"Shlapple Sepples, how dare you!!"

October 31, 2007

Pratteln, Switzerland

Happy Halloween. Woke up in Pratteln, Switzerland. (Note, that I have been mistakenly listing it as Prattein.) Last night we finished breaking down and loading up by 1:30 a.m. Had a few Shlapple Sepples, great Bavarian beers with the Grolsch type ceramic capping mechanisms.















Before getting on the bus, I took a picture with a cute girl who was hanging outside with her brother (I hope it was her brother) to meet the band. No time to start up a conversation, just “Hey, you’re cute, let’s take a picture.”
Her name was Seina, and that’s about all I know.

Hung out with Frank and Static and Joe until 3:00 a.m. Then, hit the berth and attempted to start a movie on my MacBook, so I could go to sleep. I was going to watch “15 Minutes” with DeNiro, but I must have fallen asleep before I could press play. Each night, I instantly fall asleep, even when I’m working on the computer. Between the long days and hum of the bus engine, there is no insomnia for this guitar tech.

Although we have arrived early, there is not a whole lot to do in this town. I think Pratteln has the record for the least amount of information on Wikipedia than any other subject. Porterville, California has more stuff written about it. Trust me, I checked. The club looks great here in Pratteln, probably the biggest so far. The “house” guy said as soon as he announced the show a few months ago, the calls started coming in. By tonight they expect 800 sold tickets, which is quite large for an American band that has never cultivated this area.

“Tonight There’s Gonna Be a Snail Break”

October 30, 2007

Aschaffenburg, Germany


The Collo Saal was a small but immaculate club. The place was not only spotless, but they even kept their equipment clean and in good repair. That is a rarity in this business. Steve and Static are often troubleshooting and repairing problems with the “house” systems at every venue. And Steve is the best for making even the worst system sound good. “It’s easy to mix on a good system,” Steve will tell you. The hard part about his job is making a bad system work for you, or making a bad room sound good. With twenty-five-plus years on the road, Steve has seen it all.

Prior to the show I catch Robbie intensely inspecting something he has found. He has found a small snail that he adopts (or holds it captive, as Jeff says. He sings, “Tonight there’s gonna be a snail-break, somewhere in this town.) Robbie says the snail, that he names “Blitz,” will be his friend out on the road, since the snail is the only one who understands him. The band gets worried when I tell them that the acid in the slice of tomato Robbie has provided the snail may turn it into ceviche’ overnight. They are also worried that the snail may not live to see the United States. So, Jeff and Frank make me go online in the backstage dressing room to research the lifespan and diet of a snail. They want to make sure Robbie is providing proper nutrition to his new friend. When they are assured that the snail will be o.k., and live another day, their worries turn to the family that the snail left behind. Jeff jokes that the snail’s son will no longer inherit his dad’s shell. He begins to take on the voice of the son, yearning for his father. Other crew and band members jump in with jokes as the pre-show adrenaline really begins to kick in. It’s an ADHD fest that has my eyes watering and my gut aching from laughter.

This show was one of the best on the tour. The guys change their set every night, a rare thing for bands to do. They like to give fans a variety, especially for the fans that travel from city to city to see them. Tonight they start with “Coming Atcha Live” and the crowd goes crazy. After the show, two American army guys come up to me and ask if they could meet the band. They’ve driven two hours from Wiesbaden, Germany, to see the guys. In an accommodating, no-pretense fashion that is typical of Tesla, Brian gives me the okay to send the service men up to the dressing room. The two are, not only, veterans of both Gulf Wars, they are long time Tesla fans, and this meeting has made their day.

(BTW, just checked my Hotmail account (that I rarely use.) Received a note from my bro, Peter, thanking me for missing his B-Day 11 days ago. Sorry Bro, Happy Birthday, you old fart.)

(Another BTW: Burger King a big deal in Germany, they are everywhere. Check out the campaign ads for the company. The Germans sure "Have It [Their] Way."

“Bavarian Holiday”

October 29, 2007,

Aschaffenburg, Germany (Day Off)

This morning we pulled into the Klingerhof Land Hotel. The view from the top of the hill was unbelievable. Sort of Napa-esque.
The Klingerhoff is a hotel/spa and due to a mix up at the reservations desk, we have no room for the night. However, on the lower floor of the hotel is a spa complete with a pool, sauna and showers. The hotel will allow us to use this area for the night. Before going to dinner I decide to shower up. The place is very clean and towel are provided. After undressing and wrapping a towel around my torso, I walk to the shower room and attempt to locate the mens shower. I search for the word “Herren” (men) and I search for the international male stick figure, to no avail. I walk up and down the common area, looking for the door to the men’s shower. As I open the door to the sauna, I am floored by the site of a 65 year old man making his exit, . . . completely naked, who casually strolls into the common area, dragging his scrotum behind him. It finally dawns on me, . . . there are no separate facilities. Germany is co-ed, and unabashedly so. Brian discovers this fact later on, when a grey haired woman that reminds him of his grandmother, enters the co-ed shower area in which he is showering. He is traumatized for life.




Later that afternoon Steve, Dave, Static and I head into town to get a close up view of the castle in the middle of town.
As we walk the streets of the village, I am struck with one impression . . . I LOVE Aschaffenburg. This town is a beautiful Bavarian village, complete with winding narrow streets and beer hauses. Upon a recommendation of the taxi driver, we head over to the Zum Fergerer, a local dining establishment.
Expecting an all meat menu, I am presently surprised by the sophistication of the fare. And with the lovely Tove Marie (a native of Norway) and Julia (don’t pronounce the ‘J’, a true Bavarian) as our waitresses, our meal was seasoned with good company.
Speaking of the meal, I had a wild pig and venison dish that matched or exceeded any meal in San Francisco. My compliments to the chef for his flavors, as well as his presentation. Anthony Bourdain could do a whole hour of Aschaffenburg on his “No Reservations” show.

"Ya Can't Have Your Puddin', Unless You Eat Your Meat!"

October 28, 2007, 11:00 a.m.

Bochum, Germany

One thing I’ve noticed during our time in Germany, they love their meats. (Alright all you goofballs, I recognize the double entendre.) Even breakfast provides an assortment of brots, wursts, salamis, bolognas, head cheeses, etc. Even at the truck stops, trying to get a healthy meal was impossible. When we stop for breakfast, the only vegetable product in the whole place was Pringles potato chips . . . and, get this . . . Roast Beef Flavored!!!!
But, I had to try it. And it tastes like, you guessed it, roast beef. Five chips in to the tube, I’m done with them. Yuck!! I need cereal.

On the way to Bochum, we have to take an alternate route, as a low bridge gets in our way. Quick thinking by Gary, the driver, who stops at the head of the overpass, avoids a major catastrophe. In typical Jeff Keith thinking, he says, “I tell ya’ Marc, there are many problems on the road that pop up, it’s not always red carpet.” He laughs that, “Today we had to roll up the red carpet and go aaallllll the way around.”

As we get in to Bochum, much of the town is closed, as it is Sunday.
When we load in to the Matrix Club, we are led through a maze of tunnels until we get to a cavernous brick room that is long and thin with arched ceilings. Tonight the band plays a WWII bomb shelter!!!
Now that’s cool. The owner has converted this remnant of superior German construction in to one of the coolest clubs I’ve seen.
Take away the hundreds of par can lights and aluminum tubular trussing and you have an underground bunker that actually housed hundreds, if not thousands of German citizenry during allied bombing campaigns.
The air vents in the ceiling remind me of the scene from the “Dirty Dozen,” when Jim Brown is throwing grenades down the shafts and doesn’t quite make it back to the truck that Lee Marvin is driving.




The show, once again, goes great that night. I’m not just making this up, the crowds love these guys.

“In the Land of Giants”

October 27, 2:00 a.m.

Hamburg, Germany

Woke up this morning and walked off the bus in to the midst of a full blown flea market. This thing wraps around the bus, the building and ½ of the block. Instantly, I realize one thing . . . just like Americans, the Germans have a lot of crap!!! The most interesting collection was four tables of medical instruments, including gynecological pliers and spreaders, and the like. Jokingly, Brian holds up a pair and begins bargaining with the seller, as he waves them around opening and closing the mechanism. Thank goodness for Monique, Brian’s wife, no deal is struck.

I have breakfast at the club, were they bar operations are already in full swing. The bartender is so thrilled we are there, that he puts on only American music, beginning with his favorite band, Chicago. When I tell him that my family is from Chicago and that I go there quite often, his face lites up. He asks the person next to him to translate something, then turns to me and says, “I am very impression of you.” He means “envious,” but I do not correct him. He is further impressed by the fact that I can answer his trivia question, “What do the letters C.T.A. on the first album mean?” “Chicago Transit Authority.” Beers are on the house later that night!!

Later that night the band has another scorching set for the Hamburgians (Hamburgers? Hamburglers??) Right before the show starts, however, I have make my way through the audience to grab a set list. And that’s when I realize it, . . . I am in the Land of the Giants. Now, I may be slight of stature (some of you may not have noticed,) but these people are all at least a foot taller than me. It’s like I’m hiking in the Sequoia National Forest, except the trees are looking down at me and seem to be saying in their best Arnold accent, “Little puny man, I can crush you with my bare hands.” And that’s the women, I’m talking about. But despite their imposing figures, the people of Hamburg were a welcoming, enthusiastic crowd.




Later that night, we hang out at the club talking to the locals and taking advantage of the wireless internet service available at the bar. As promised, beers were on the house.

"Work?!?! On my day off?

October 26, 2007, 10:00 p.m.

Hamburg, Germany

Well, today is a day off, but I have no time for sight-seeing. I need to get Brian’s bass repaired. And luckily there is a few guitar shops just blocks from where we parked the bus. The club in Hamburg, the Knust (which means the heel of a loaf of bread, go figure)
has graciously allowed us to park next the club a day early and hook up to shore power for the night. But they warn us that there is a flea market in the lot tomorrow, and we will be in the middle of it. The club happens to be in a section of town that reminds me of the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco. Lots of thrift stores, T-shirt shops and coffee houses (that only sell coffee!!) Also, tons of graffiti that has become part of the décor. They don’t seem to paint over it, which is, in many ways, a shame.

On our way in we see a beautiful old piece of early Germanic architecture, an old church that had been bombed during WWII. Much of the town is 50’s modern, since many of the old building were destroyed in the war. However, there are a few beautiful churches and government buildings
and I’m able to get some photos while looking for Brian’s pickups. By far, the most interesting piece of architecture is right across the street from the club and conveniently it houses, among other things, a music shop. It is a Nazi bunker, and it is massive!!!
I’m assuming that it is still standing because it is solid concrete and is nearly impossible to deconstruct.

By the end of the day, I have Brian’s bass completely repaired with a new set of pickups (thanks to Martin at Schalloch Music). Only sets him back 250 Euros. Ouch!! I pick up the bass and head to a little Italian (I know, I’m in Germany, but they were allies, right?) restaurant, next to the store. I have a salted fish, which was way better than expected. Time to crash, since it all starts up again, tomorrow. Luckily, we loaded in earlier today, so the set up should be easy tomorrow afternoon.

“Danka Shane, Baby, Danka Shane.”

October 25, 2007, 12:30

Vosselaar, Belgium,

Wow, we have arrived in the Dinuba of Belgium. This town is small and quaint. And the skies remind me of an October Midwestern gray haze. Poor Gary is having a hard time negotiating a left turn in this town, because the roads are so small. We, finally, arrive at the Beibob, which will undoubtedly be the smallest club the band play on this tour, or any tour past or future, for that matter. This place holds about three hundred people and the stage is pretty small. There is graffiti everywhere, and evidently, has become part of the décor. None the less, the staff is very friendly and Cindy, the bartender, makes us a great chicken and boiled potato (which she calls fries) dinner. When I ask her the type of seasoning she uses, she says, “Chicken seasoning.” Of course, what was I thinking.

The club was packed tonight and the crowd was enthusiastically chanting the band on throughout the night. In between songs the Belgians would chant “Ay, Ay, Ay,” while simultaneously thrusting their fists in the air. This got the band, and the crew, joining in on occasion. So, at times, the only sound in the whole club was this continuous and frenetic roar of “Ay, Ay, Ay.” It was an American/Belgian detente.

Once again, after much troubleshooting, Brian’s bass was still on the fritz, tonight. So, the only thing I can gather is that the pickups have died. That will require replacements, which I will have to search out in the next town. Also, Dave’s 2nd guitar, which he calls Zebra (for the Zebra patterned strap that is attached) was intermittently cutting out. During the show, I shot a bit of contact cleaner on the guitar pots (potentiometers) and spun the knobs. Problem fixed.

But the biggy of the night was that right before going on, I tested Brian’s basses, as always. However, no sound was coming out of the Hartke amp that is used for the T-Birds. And this is a brand new amp. After some quick troubleshooting, and thanks to the assistance of Static, he discovers that the wall English wall plugs that were provided with the amps have small fuses in them. This is something completely foreign to us. But, Static, accustom to calmly troubleshooting impossible situations, quickly swapped out the cord with one of our spares and the band hit the stage on time.



We are now back on the bus, and after a quick towel off with a damp towel, I’m as refreshed as I can be and ready for bed. The bus ships out tonight for a nine hour drive to to Hamburg. Yes, Hamburg. I guess I was not up to date with the itinerary so, instead of being in Copenhagen as I was informed, next stop is Hamburg, Germany.

“Vellkom Danka”

October 25, 2007, 10:45 a.m

Well the show in Amrsterdam went great. The crowd loved the show, as always. They all ask us for picks and drum sticks, but if we continue giving them out we are going to run out before the tour is over. Sure enough, Brian’s Tobacco T-Bird went to crap. I checked all the connections before the show and there seems to be no problem. I tried tried to “meter” it before the show, but the meter that I borrowed from the “house” (club) seems to be broken. Repairs on the road can be tough. And I hate to admit it, the worse part about trying to repair the small electronics on his bass is that my eyes aren’t what the use to be. I CAN’T SEE A DAMN THING!! Luckily I brought a pair of reading specs.

After the show, Brian and I went around the corner and found the only place open that served something other than alcohol . . . BURGER KING!! Thank God for corporate America. Hitting up the McDonald’s or Burger King helps makes these guys feel like their at home. On the way there, some fans recognized Brian and wanted to talk and get his autograph. They, along with most of the fans that night were blitzed out of their gourds. But, Brian was polite and accommodating and signed everyone’s autograph.

Before going to sleep, I had time for a shower at the club . . . which is nice. And the club, which was going to be open until 5 in the morning was nice enough to allow us to keep the bus parked outside and hooked up to their electrical (shore power) for the whole night. Therefore, we were able to use the facilities all night long. In the morning, some of us went across the street and had some classic Dutch pancakes, some with ham, some with fruit and all very tasty. And the coffee is a dark and rich, almost like espresso. No need for Starbucks here. Got some last minute photos before the bus headed out, including a shot of Frank and his Dad, Sherman, in front of some local transportation.

“Do we have a bus? . . . yes, we have a bus.”

October 24, 2007, 1:00 p.m.

We have just arrived at the Paradisio Club in downtown Amsterdam. It is converted old church that has been doing shows for years, and is a very professional operation. The club will stay open until 5:00 tomorrow morning, playing live and recorded rave music. Tesla starts at 9:30 tonight, however our equipment hasn’t arrived from Japan yet, and won’t be here until three o’clock. So the most I can do it set up the “backline.” Since the guys are endorsed by various manufactures we have drums and amplifiers provided by the manufacturers, gratis. The bass gear is brand new and still in the boxes.

Earlier I met Gary, our Australian bus driver who has arrived with a European double decker tour bus. It has twelve bunks and a lounge on top, and a kitchen, lounge and bathroom on the bottom. The guys don’t like the double deckers because of the sway they make during turns.

A couple of rules on a tour bus: 1) only #1 in the bathroom, all else is reserved for truck stops, clubs, and hotel rooms; 2) be on the bus on time or the driver will leave an “oil spot” (a person left in the parking lot of the truck stop.) Before departing, the tour manager (Static) will do a count and, if all 11 people are present, when the driver asks, “Do we have a bus?” he will respond, “We have a bus.”

At sound check, Brian’s main Tobacco Gibson Thunderbird bass (the one on the albums) is having intermittent problems. I will tune up the pink (it was supposed to be red) Thunderbird (normally tuned to “dropped D” tuning), to standard tuning for tonight just in case.

Also, met Joe the Merch guy, who just flew in from Jersey to help Sherman out. Now there is 11 people on the bus. Eleven stinking rock and rollers. This bus will be a rollin’ Petri dish.

“A Day Off in Amersterdam”

October 23, 2007, 8:00 p.m.

O.K., even though I did enough walking last night, Robbie, wanted to see the Redlight district. And I wanted to see downtown in the daytime to take some photos before tonight’s show. So after a breakfast of ham pancakes, Robbie and I board the Number 5 tram to the downtown and Redlight area. For Robbie, the Redlight District is Nirvana. Skip the girls, Robbie wanted to hit up the coffee shops. As I hear it, they sell more than just coffee. As we are walking, we see on of the “girls” in a window. She has to be over 60 years old, and she’s fully clad in leather.

After a couple of hours walking he and I are both getting tired and his prosthetic causing some aches and pain. So we stop at a Maoz, a vegetarian falafel fast food joint. I order one and the guy serves up a pita with 8 falafels in it. You add the toppings yourself, from the 20 to 30 that are available. It was quite tasty and probably good for you. We get back on the Number 5 tram and spend the next hour trying to find are way back to the hotel. I stop by the laundry mat to pick up the clothes we dropped off earlier in the day. It’s about 7 Euros to have someone wash, dry and fold 5 kilograms of clothes.


Although the rest of the guys have gone to grab a bite, I’m still trying to fight the jet lag. It’s 8:00 and I’m crashing early tonight.

Overage Fees

October 22, 2007, 10:45 a.m.

Japan was a wonderful experience. Almost. When it came time to check in luggage at the airport, the Japanese efficiency and “by the book” method of operation became glaringly apparent. With 32 pieces of equipment and luggage, overages are always a concern. However, as noted before, a combination of tips, bribes, C.D. giveaways, autograph, and sometimes a singing a few bars from a hit song keep the overages at a minumum of $500 to $1500 dollars. The Japanese, on the other hand, want to charge us Two Million Yen!!! That’s about $20,000!!! And they are not budging. After two hours of negotiation and absolutely no give by the Qantas’ Tokyo Management, Static has no option but to stay behind and procure a freight company to do it for less (final tally, however, is about $9000.) He gets one more night in Japan and goes to see the Ronnie James Dio/Black Sabbath project, Heaven and Hell.

Despite the serious nature of the check out, I have time to play a trick on Robbie, who is now completely crashed out in a wheelchair in the middle of the check out area. I begin to push him to the other side of the check out counter, however, half way there he wakes up in a daze and give me road props with a sleepy version of one of his crazy pirate laughs.

Star Treatment

October 21, 2007, 11:30 p.m.

After the show, renowned “Head of Collections” for the Hard Rock Café, Don Bernstein, treated the band and crew to a top-notch Korean B-B-Q dinner behind the Tokyo Hard Rock in Roppongi. Don even comped us the T-shirts we picked out from the Hard Rock. Teddy, the proprietor, served us a variety of grade A meats, including beef tongue. Being accustom to “road food” (Mickey D’s, etc.) none of the guys would try it until I insisted. In the end, they all agreed that the tongue was the best tasting of all the meats. Thanks Teddy and Don.

After dinner, we all posed with Don for some pix in front of the Hard Rock. Unfortunately, my camera was back at the hotel, so Don will send me a copy later. Luckily, Eriko (who had dinner with us) snapped a copy of me on the streets of Roppongi. Steve, Static and I walked around the area and popped into a magazine store. I had to purchase a Japanese “Rolling Stone” magazine because the front cover is on the back (due to the Japanese reading right to left, instead of left to right.)

Loud Park 2007

October 21, 2007, 12:30 a.m.

Loud Park Festival was very cool, yet very different. Because of the time limitations, I had 40 minutes to set everything up. However, the workforce provided was, once again, beyond our expectations. As I was setting up “guitar world,” I had no fewer than three young men or women standing there holding flashlights, while others were handing me cases, or stowing cases, or asking me if they should hand or stow my cases. Unfortunately, I was never informed that Brian had already configured his amplifier settings, so my fiddling with the settings didn’t help the situation. But Brian calmly reset them and I was able to have everything ready to go with about 1 minute to spare.

While I was in a state of controlled panic, the crowd was in a state of controlled rock rage. 14, 000 were chanting Tesla, followed by three claps, over and over, in perfect, and I mean perfect, unison. This was punctuated by periods of complete silence, while waiting for the band to take the stage. (Note to the band, if you hear a Japanese announcer speak for a minute or two, the calmly say the word, Tesla, that means your on!!!) Despite the initial hesitation, the band did what they do best, rocked!! Everything went smoothly until Brian began playing his pink (it was supposed to be red) bass. The signal started cutting out, so I pulled out a spare cable. Brian believed it was the battery inside the bass, and let me know in no uncertain terms to “change the *#@&-ing battery because the bass is sounding like @#*%.” Fortunately I was able to change it out during the next song in about 30 seconds, and further, changed the cable. I kept the battery to have Steve and Static test it later. The battery was good and was not the problem, thank God for my sake. In fact the cable wasn’t the problem either, as Steve and Static had good signals on their “direct box” channels. That only left one answer, the amplifier rented was bad. The band ended on time and the crowd gave their approval with one last cheer. Then, silence, again. Luckily, I was able to have Eriko take a picture of me at “guitar world” during the final song.

After the show, the Japanese workers quickly cleared the stage for the next group and took our equipment back to the staging area. About two bands later, the 80’s metal band, Saxon (“she’s got Wheels of Steel,”) took the stage. I decided to take a walk around the arena, which was covered by a large tarp to keep the floor clean. The audience was having a great time, and all were polite and controlled. Evidently, Saxon has a large following in Japan (despite a virtually non-existent following in America,) as the crowd enthusiastically responded to every “Ari-gato Tokyo” from the singer. (Note to Saxon: request the video team to refrain from close ups, as the Jumbo-Tron shows the wrinkles of aging rock stars.)

Breakfast in Japan

October 21, 2007, 10:30 a.m.

I woke up this morning around 9:00 a.m.. I wanted to get some food in me prior to going to the venue. Today is a “festival” date, which means the band plays for 50 minutes, and absolutely no more than that. We are able to take the stage at 2:45 and the band must play at 3:25, so that only leave 40 minutes to set up all the amplifiers, cables, pedal boards, guitar boats, and “guitar world”. Then we must do a quick test of the equipment, line check the signals going to Steve at the Front of House (FOH) board and Static at the Monitor board, and last second final tuning of the guitars. All this while another band is playing of a second stage 75 feet away, so it is impossible to communicate. As soon as I arrive at the venue, I will begin restringing and tuning each guitar. I’m sure there will be no time for lunch.

So breakfast is a mix of traditional Japanese and American fare. Being adventurous, I plate mainly Japanese foodstuffs, including two types of fish, some miso soup and rice, among 20 other items. The most “interesting” item is a small bowl with a tiny spoonful of a shredded green something or other, held together with a clear slime. (It would be as if I was eating the cud, straight from a cow’s mouth. Mmmm, breakfast of champions.) As I eat, I notice I am the only Caucasian in the room of 50 to 75 diners. I try to ask for bottled water, but no one understands, so the waitress gets me a glass of ice water, instead (is there a word for Montezuma’s revenge in the Japanese. I don’t think so, so I should be o.k.) Approximately a half hour later, the drummer and guitar player from a band called Wig Wam join me. They are from South Carolina, although the singer lives in Greece. Frankly, I’ve never heard of them, but they have a following in Japan. Both of them were very nice, despite the hard core nature of their music. (No they really don’t want to sell their souls to the devil.) Steve finally joins us about 15 minute later. He sticks to the American side of the food line.

At 11:00 we meet in the hotel lobby, where there was already a small group of fans who had been waiting. They take pictures, attempt to converse in English and ask for guitar picks from each member of the band. Although the band hasn’t been here in 17 years, there is still a loyal following.

Hello, Tokyo!!

October 20, 2007, 11:15 a.m.

Arrived last night in Tokyo, actually Narita, about 1 hour outside of Tokyo. We were met by Eriko, our Japanese interpreter. She speaks fluent English due to a year in college in upstate New York and a couple of years in Chicago at the University of Chicago, were she became a liberal arts major and a Cubs fan. We load up the bus with our 32 pieces of equipment and luggage, and are immediately taken by our bus driver, Azuma (who’s wearing a blue uniform, white cap and white gloves, to the 14,000 seat venue for a production meeting. Not the thing one wants to do after not showering nearly two days. Needless to say, I am probably very, very “kusai” by now. The venue is already active because of the first show, although due to superior Japanese construction and sound proofing techniques, the music blasting in the arena is very attenuated in the production room (which doubles as the hospitality room, where we noshed on the Japanese version of American and Italian food. One thing for the Japanese, they are dedicated, efficient, and hard working people. We had interpreters, drivers, loaders, guards, hospitality personnel, all of them eagerly running around to satifsfied our wants and needs. We are, also, assisted by Emi Yamada, my Japanese contact who I have been emailing over the past few months to secure our visas. Her perfect English was cultivated in the San Francisco Bay area during three years in America.

Next stop by Azuma, was the Hotel Monterey Manzomon, with it’s black slate walls and clean lines, it is the epitome of Japanese stoicism. The rooms are about 10x10, not including the small bathroom, with comfortable but stiff beds and bean filled pillows, which actually prove quite comfortable. Everything in the room is either neatly folded or squarely placed just so, including the not so traditional bathrobe on my bed (I was hoping for a long sleeved kimono). Finally, after nearly two days I fill the bath with hot water and soak for a good ½ hour (this is definitely not an activity in the “roadie’s guide to touring”, but the hell with it, this is really my vacation, remember?) I spend the next ½ trying to figure out how to turn the channel on the T.V., (the remote on has Japanese characters on it) and how to call the front desk to leave a wake up call (evidently “zero” does not mean “help” around here, “39” does, go figure.) Finally, sleep.

Kusai at 33,000 feet

October 20, 2007, 6:00 pm, Tokyo time

I’m on a Quantas flight to Narita (Tokyo) watching the movie “Next” with Nicolas Cage. Finally, was able to sleep about 7 hours because of an Ambian prescription my doctor gave me for the plane flights. Never thought I would use them, but sleep can be very restless while on tour. It really seems to help. I’m trying to figure out how much sleep I had before the flight, and need to write it down because it’s crazy trying to calculate it in my head. Because of all the travel and time changes and full days working without regular sleep times or meal times, it is difficult figuring out when you last slept.

Woke up at 6:30 in Melbourne two days ago. Played Melbourne, hotel by 2:30 am, woke up at 6:00 a.m., 3 ½ hours sleep in 18, flew to Sydney, played Sydney, no sleep until the plane flight at 10:00 a.m. That means a total of 3 ½ hours of sleep in 45 ½ hours. So this flight was much needed.

BTW, after the show last night I was unable to have time for a shower, so poor Mori, the Japanese guy in the seat next to me must be thinking I’m “kusai” (stinky). (Or is it “chisai,” Kim Hall?) I may have been able to convince the band to give me 5 minutes to shower at the venue before the truck and van drove us back to the airport, but Steve said he didn’t have time to take a shower, so I said, “The hell with it, I’m gonna live the road life not take one either.” At that time, I never considered Mori’s welfare. Was too tired to think that far ahead. At least I had a change of socks and t-shirt in my work bag. That’s close enough to a shower, right?? Oh, and thank God for gum, because brushing your teeth becomes a luxury. You never have your luggage around when working, and although I carry a spare brush in my work pack, I need to find a small tube of paste. No shower, no brushing, hair is a mess. Boy I must be a sight for all those on the plane.

Mum Gave the Goat's Horn

October 20, 2007, Saturday, 2:30 a.m.

So, I’m in a hotel lobby waiting for the band to wake up. Although I have a room at this hotel, I have not had a chance to use it. Just finished breaking down a show at the Forum in Sydney. (BTW, some of the Aussie fans are really nuts, seriously psycho. I think they dress their drinks with a twist of steroids. But a majority of them are very nice loyal fans of Tesla, who have waited years for the band to step foot on their beloved homeland.) At the hotel, there is a mother and her teenaged son who had been waiting in the lobby for an autograph. Frank signed a poster and I took a picture of Frank with the son and his ‘mum.’ Mum marked the moment by showing the “goats horns” for the photo. For you non-rockers, that means she liked the show. As we are waiting a group of people from a wedding roll in, the girls are drunk and "riding" each other on the lobby couches. None of the hotel staff seem to mind, and neither do I. Sorry don't have a photo of that one.

Next we drive to the airport to get there early, at 4:00. However, the airport is closed, so we drive to get something to eat at the McDonald's down the road. We have to go through the drive thru in the van. We are cracking up, partly due to deliruim and partly due to the fact that only Chinese workers are on duty and they can barely understand what we are ordering. By the time we get to the airport, check in the gear and get our tickets, every one begins crashing. Next stop, Tokyo.

“What Day Is It?”

October 22, 2007, or is it the 21st??????, 11:30 p.m.

I’m lost on dates. I think we left Japan on the 22nd of October, but while in the air, we were catching up on the day due to the time changes. So, even though the 12 ½ hour flight that started at 11:30 a.m., we arrived in Amsterdam at 4:00 p.m., 4 ½ “virtual” hours later. So we have made time during out flight. Unfortunately, I spent most of it watching movies and only got 4 hours of sleep. That’s gonna hurt later on. (Please note, I have gone back and corrected this calculation on the day I left Amsterdam. The band and crew have been so mixed up due to time changed, that no one knew what day it was and no one had the time or mental capacity to figure it out. I was a whole day off at the time of this writing.)

At the Amsterdam airport, customs was a breeze. They don’t care who comes here. I mean, who wants to do anything to the Netherlands. The last time they had any problems was when the Nazi’s invaded. In five days they rolled over to let Hitler scratch their bellies. We are driven into town by a guy who walks and talks like that Tim Conway character on the Carol Burnett show (“Ahh, Missuss Ah-Wiggens, may ah, ah-driven you to dah ho-ah-tel?”)
First thing you notice in Amsterdam are the bicycles, thousands of them. And everyone is riding them, the young, the old, male, female. They all look like they were built in the 1940’s. Evidently, no one has a new bike because it’s too tempting to steal them.


Because of a tardy hotel booking, we are staying at one of the few places available, the Inner Amsterdam Hotel. It is called a Stopover. That must be a Danish word for dump!!!
Poor Robbie is stuck on the 5th Floor. Unfortunately the elevator only goes to the 4th floor. His room is 5 feet by 8 feet, with a bunk bed and no bathroom or shower. I am now rooming with Jeff because we both like sleeping in a cold room and Steve and Brian like their rooms to feel like saunas. Actually most of the rooms at the stopover are the sizes of a sauna. Our room has two sections, each not much bigger than the size of a twin bed. There is no phone, but there is a flat screen, and unlike Japan, we can view American shows, 24 hours a day on the Discovery Channel. Jeff is happy because there is a fan in the room. Jeff can’t sleep without a fan in the room. Not as much for the cooling, but for the constant hum the fan makes at night. He places the fan right next to his head, facing him and turns it on full blast. I don’t know how he sleeps. This is hilarious. His observations, comments and take on life are so different from the norm that he’s always cracking me up. I think it why he is able to write such cool lyrics.

Frank’s dad, Sherman, just met up with us. For the past year he has been helping the band out with “merch” (i.e., merchandise, t-shirts, etc.) He and Frank only met a few years ago, so they have a lot of catching up to do. What a great way to hang with your son, just join him on a rock and roll world tour. Sherman is easy to hang with and has a lot of great stories to tell, from his being drafted to living on a commune. This guy has seen a lot. Later that night, Steve, Sherman and I head on down to the “Redlight District.” It has become more of a tourist spectacle, with husbands and wives and whole families walking the small streets and walk ways. Viewing the hookers, washed in the red fluorescent lights that frame the windows, is like a surreal form of shopping on Rodeo Drive. They stand in their 5x5 rooms, and wink at you or kiss the glass. All this while families stroll by. By the way, did you know that it only cost 20 Euros for . . . . just joking. After so much walking, we were beat and headed back to get some much needed rest. Those movies on the plane are taking their toll.