Tour Diary: 1995 (Niko) > Page 3

Feed Me, Love Me

The next day in Rennes, France we play with a pretty cool, metallic, French band called Cut the Navel Cord. They have an amazingly involved light show and draw a crowd that packs the small place, most of which stay to see us. The show is memorable for the blood squirting episode outlined above; the fact that the crowd cheers with recognition when we start playing Gal (a highlight of the tour for me: I try to stare down at my guitar, pretend it happens all the time and not beam a thankful puppy-dog grin at the audience); and the fact that there is a particularly beautiful girl that stands behind my amplifier for the whole set so that every time I turn around to tune, she looks straight into my eyes.



  Now, I have to say that I have seen and met friendly, very cool girls all over the world (well, at least everywhere I've been), but there really is something different about French girls. Ok, stop your booing and listen for a moment. I think it's a trust of us men, perhaps an understanding. As if their mothers had whispered to them every night before sleep: " ... Men are good, trust them, they are nearly the same as you; love is good, sex is a good thing, don't be afraid, do what feels good." Hence they seem on the whole, more relaxed and at ease about boy-girl stuff. Not that I have anything against women from any other part of the world (US included), or that I haven't seen this sort of behavior all over. It's just that it seems more prevalent in France, or in French women. Needless to say she left without speaking to me; but it was nice while it lasted.

Tom falls in love with a friend of a friend of mine, who brings us our dinner. Not an unexpected pick in the strangely lonely and affection-starved, tour state of mind. Who else to fall for but a woman who brings you a heaping plate of pasta?



  Well, I have gone on and on and have said a great deal about very little of the tour. I think I've taken enough space spouting my thoughts though. If anyone wants more, or the rest, they can email me - or send regular mail to our post office box in the States:

P.O. Box 19271
Stanford, CA, 94309
USA

[email protected]

and I or we will write you back, per your preference.

I have to mention the great kindness and hospitality of Toeni at our German Label Crippled Dick Hot Wax, Thanks to he and his wife for much that was helpful. And indeed to everyone who promoted shows and fed and housed us, entertained us for a few hours, and put up with Eugene's demanding gastronomic requirements.

Briefly, tour hilights also include: finally hanging out in a Viennese coffee house; the playing at the shows - other than those mentioned above - in Basel, Berlin, Vienna, and N�rnberg, not necessarily in that order (none of which were recorded!); seeing Sandro the great (and former?) promoter of the Reithalle, Bern, again; sort-of meeting the interesting, distant, peaceful, spiritual woman at who's house we stayed in St. Galen, CH; the bountiful yet refined preshow dinner party near Luzern CH; one of the promoters at the beautiful de Insel club in Berlin who kept saying in German to his colleague over the phone how much he liked the show, and cursing loudly and repeatedly in English to prove it; the incredible American (means: huge) breakfast that Greg, the expatriate former Bass player for Plainfield made for us in Basel; and the drunken funlovers at our gig in Villingen-Schwenningen who came to see the fine band Kurt and us, and who made the whole damn show a party. Thanks to all those brave enough to come up and talk to us before/after and during shows. We are - some of us - a little shy too, and appreciate talking to others who like music and things akin.

See you soon.
Oxbow tour diary.
Europe; May 31 - June 28, 1995.
Niko Wenner



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