Mäkkelä - Stupid & Innocent Years

Mäkkelä in Franken Fernsehen. Kunst im Kontext: Finnen, Flüchtlinge

Mäkkelä, "Clowns" - Live 2019 @ La Boheme, Warsaw

Homeland-Tour 2019. November. Part III

03/11/19
Salle de la Fete, Arlanc, France & L'Octopus, Cunlhat
Day 10. Was a bit of a rough one to get up in time to catch the 7.12 train in Dijon. My first coffee in Nevers where I had to change trains. I've been to Ambert last year when touring in France. An evening and concert you don't get to experience very often. Maybe only once in a lifetime. The person who booked me and has been sort of central character of a lot of cultural /activities and regional networking, died in a car crash a few days prior to my arrival and concert. I found out by receiving an email from his account signed by a different person. The L'Elegante, everyone attending the evening, the whole atmosphere was eerie. I recall it being a difficult one to perform or even start the concert. How to find the right songs and words for a crowd of people having just lost both a very good friend and one of the key figures of local/regional social and cultural activities? Most of them about to leave for the funeral in Nice, five o'clock in the morning. I recall me having difficulties to hold back the tears during the set as some words made a new, different sense to me while singing in this setting and situation. It feels inappropriate to call such a performance one of my best shows ever but in fact it must have been. It was one with an extraordinarily unifying power though. In the end of the evening it felt like all of us in the small café were in just the right place at the right time, feeling comforted by the healing power of songs and music. Might sound quirky saying this but such was the mood that evening back in November 2018.

You might figure I've been looking forward to coming back. How did things change in the past 12 months? Did the hard time they had brought things to a halt? It's a bit of an effort to get to that part of France by means of public transport to say the least. This part of the Auvergne situated between Clermont-Ferrand and Saint Étienne is blessed with a both beautiful and wild landscape. Like in so many other places in rural Europe, industry has moved away or gone down due to globalized trade and markets, thus leaving a vast area literally empty. No employment here and the farmers still here are struggling with national and European regulations and tax policies of all kinds. In a way a doomed part of the country.
The other side of the medal is: dropping rates on rent, real estate and property opens up space for alternative concepts for living. Also, as in this rural vicinity villages being scattered across a wide area without a public transport infrastructure existing, you don't really have a choice but to network and get things sorted yourself.
For instance the place I stayed at in Cunlhat is the former branch of Credit L'Eparge, built in 1935. In the process of downsizing and digitalization I assume, the bank sold a lot of their buildings in the countryside for actually next to nothing. A group of about 15 people bought it and converted it to their home and workspace. The latter including farming, milling, baking, organizing cultural events and god knows what else. Even though, this is something I probably couldn't do myself I'm deeply impressed by it. You need some guts to move out here and start to live your own utopian dream.

This time they asked me if I'd be up for playing two shows. A first one in Arlanc, a twenty minutes drive down the Dore river valley on their annual fund-raiser festival for refugees, the second one at L'Octopus in Cunhlat, the local community's café culturally. We'll see what this will be like tonight, the one yesterday at the "Salle de la Fete" in Arlanc was a very special, wonderful thing to do.

Everyone involved, people from all the nearer villages around, were cooking, baking, setting up things, making it the event of the year. Apart from the beer everything on offer was given to the guests for voluntary donations, all going into the pot that would help refugees in trouble to survive out here. Oh, of course the food was terrific. We>'re in France, eh? Haven't seen a soup kettle of this size before, took three of them to lift it to the table. Home-made garlic bread, salads and a dream of an apple tarte with caramel sauce and ice cream as a dessert. DIY spirit at its best. Funds raised for the poorest of the poor by people who mostly just get along themselves. A different level of pleasure and enjoyment to perform in this place, for these people, for this cause.

The following day I'm booked for L'Octopus. That's the café culturelle or bar concert of Cunlhat. It's a beautiful, cosy place. Even more so as it's getting freezing cold up here. As for travelling this is probably the most pleasant one on this tour. I can walk with my gear from where I'm staying to wards the medieval church. A three-minute walk. Hip and all the other guys who were so busy setting up the stage and pa for yesterday's event are back in business, everything is prepared when I arrive around 5 pm. All a bit concerned if there'll be an audience as the party yesterday lasted into the early morning hours. There's mulled wine, there is tea & coffee, again there is food for everyone - prix libre. It's wonderful. Stage covered with carpets. Nice little pa, good sound, very attentive audience, among them some familiar faces from last year. And yesterday. One of the reasons is over the past five years, after they started with buying the bank building a lot of young people, friends, people who heard about it started to move here. Bought cheap houses. Started a life here in the middle of nowhere. It's an amazing place. It's one of a number of Utopias I've come across touring this year. It's a good thing to know there is more of them all over Europe and I do hope there'll be a lot more coming.

Ambert. L'Elegante.

Cunlhat. L'Octopus.

Plus L'Octopus.

Homeland-Tour 2019. October/November. Part II

01/11/19
Café Le Chez Nous & Les Tanneries, Dijon, France

Day eight. Rain. Rain in Basel, rain on the way, fog and even more rain in Dijon. Le Chez Nous, as on my last show here, a cosy harbour on the stormy seas of touring. After two days in Burgundy's finest, being fed and watered, being treated like the long-lost son or brother, this feels more than ever like some place I could imagine calling home some day. Even more so knowing I'll be without a flat in eight months time in Germany. Opening up a punk festival at Les Tanneries was a wild ride last night. No safety net, sort of back to the wall, loved it a lot. Moment like this remind me of what a good song, a voice and a guitar can do. A last one coming tonight at the Vieux Léon to kiss this city goodbye before leaving in the early morning hours for Ambert. The end of the world where souls were weeping and hearts were broken a year ago. Where the congregation of mourners were to set out for their grievous trail down to Nice. To the south. To bury the ghost that has spoken to me from the other side.

02/11/19
Au Vieux Léon, Dijon, France

Day nine. Yet another rainy day in the city of Dijon ended with a show at Au Vieux Léon. A smoky bar in the heart of the city, named after a Brassens song. Entering the bar made me instantly feel like being in the right place. The air heavy with rock'n'roll. Good spirit, lovely people, a perfect place for the kind of songs I write. At least tonight the whole scenery and atmosphere seems to be the perfect surrounding for them. As predictable things got later than planned or expected. Of course on this one tour day I have to catch an early train the next morning. Two sets. First one upstairs in the actual bar, second downstairs in the Léon's vaults. Late lunch in-between. Saw it coming but hell, no, I'll never skip a gorgeous lamb stew prepared by the boss himself if that's on offer. Delicious can't really describe it. The full monty. Of course followed by incredible cheese, a coffee and eau-de-vie. And it was a good night to hang out with Philippe who hosted me for the past days. What a guy! Nuff said.

Le Chez Nous. And the foxhole. Both fab.

Philippe et mon vin rouge.

Soundcheck at Les Tanneries, Dijon.

Dijon. Cradle of skinhead movement.

A good port. Very good. Dijon.

Homeland-Tour 2019. October.

25/10/19
Live Stage, Weiden, Germany

Day one. Good start. Not the biggest audience ever but very attentive. Surprise of the evening was the young couple who came all the way down from Prague to see the show. Said they saw me with the band at MisMas Festival in Bojkovice/CZ this summer and will probably come down for my second Weiden show in December again. It's little things like this that you will remember later on. People taking the effort to travel quite a bit because the songs are strong enough to make them do it. Little moments of bliss making the whole idea of travelling about / touring worthwhile.

27/10/19
Die Neue Fledermaus, Karlsruhe, Germany

Day three. Lack of sleep already. Made it straight from Weiden to Fürth, just in time to hook up with the Folk's Worst Nightmare collective for an afternoon rehearsal. Quick run through most of the songs, picking up some gear and off to Kofferfabrik for soundcheck. No time for packing all my shit for the upcoming tour weeks yet. After a late show in front of a packed auditorium taxi back to my flat. Half the night sorting all travel documents, packing gear. Up early doing the same thing trying to keep the amount of stuff reasonably light enough to travel. Still too heavy in the end. Suppose I have to sell as much merch as possible to reduce weight...
The train ride to Karlsruhe takes me through picturesque landscape, especially around Crailsheim. Sunny autumn weather, could have been a relaxing trip if the train hadn't been cancelled. The substitute train made my reservation obsolete and I had a three hours ride on an emergency seat in the bicycle compartment. Good place for musicians as it turned out. Had enough space for both guitars, the trolley and still room for the girl travelling with her concert harp. Quite a thing to drag around. Will stop complaining about what I'm carrying with me...

28/10/19
Capri Bar, Basel, Switzerland

Day four. Enjoyable, intimate show it was at the "Neue Fledermaus" yesterday. A former pub in the bar district of Karlsruhe converted into an arts space with regular acoustic shows, readings and exhibitions. Just few minutes prior to the show my old pal and ex-band mate Jay turned up whom I haven't seen in ears. Lovely little surprise. Amazing hosts, fantastic (much needed) food and a hotel room with musician friendly check-out times around the corner. Felt fantastic to wake up refreshed after a good night's sleep, having a hot shower and a decent breakfast. Looking forward to playing Basel tonight, meeting old friends from way back then and of course returning to the Capri Bar one of the most memorable shows I had the luck to play last year.

* * * * *

I might have mentioned this before somewhere. This is my first ever large-scale European tour I'm doing solely by train/public transport. Means there are a lot of new things I'm just in the process of figuring out or understanding. Among those new insights I'm just starting to achieve in - particularly - German public transport ways are the seat reservations. They're EUR 4.50 and in theory this entitles the passenger to have a guaranteed seat in a train that might be very crowded. Unless... Well, unless it's a substitute train without numbered seats that's servicing your connection, what actually happened yesterday. Or unless a wobbly, elderly person has taken your seat instead of the one she initially has booked. Which in consequence, as in my case, means, the seat I booked thinking about the space behind it for my guitars, was taken by a cat transport box and aforementioned lady not being very compromising to shift all her luggage and pets to a different place... If you're a very patient person and got a lot of time to kill you might in fact join the line at the service counter at the next train station, show your ticket and reclaim the reservation fee. They do that. It's just all up to you if you want to queue in for 45 minutes to get those EUR 4.50 back.

* * * * *

Got picked up at Badischer Bahnhof by Michu and Kati. Tramride to Capri Bar, one of the nicest shows I had on my last year's tour. Been looking forward to this for quite some time. Apart from that I love Basel. Any time I played here since the early 2000s something special, out of the ordinary is connected with those shows. Including one song on my first solo album. This might sound funny for you but for me this town has got an air of strangely fertile creativity whilst at the same time being a bit sloppy and laid back. Especially for a Swiss town. What adds to it is its a river town. In my experience a different quality of energy in such places.
Had a smoke prior to the gig. I always do this if possible. Felt empty. Just totally blank. Physically and mentally. Kickin off with Tuesday Lilies flicked that imaginary switch that sometimes gives you a bit of an extra ignition spark. Or boosts that machine that is just too beat-up to work properly. Or feels like that. In retrospect, it was a 200% performance. Again I'm wondering how to keep up this energy level for the coming forty shows. This tour has just begun. It's a bit scary. When clearing the stage after the show we just found out the carpet they borrowed me for the concert was a handwoven one from Finland. Model "Pelimanni". Weird little coincidence.

You feel it must have been a good one if your money

comes with a flower decoration. Karlsruhe

Karlsruhe.

Decent flyer. Basel.

Stage carpet. Basel.

Goodbye Andy

The first European tour of the Anglo German Low Stars in 2001 (https://9pm-records.de/cosmos_1.htm) is, to quite some extent, responsible for what I'm doing now for many years. Formative. Touring, writing songs, collaborating with wonderful artists I come across. It was then when I met Andy Keeble first. Fiddler with Grae J Wall. My first longer tour performing solo and alongside like-minded songwriters/musicians in a loose and slightly chaotic collective. Most of them people I hardly knew or just heard of prior to meeting for our first show in Berlin. Among them Andy. Without him I suppose that whole four week stint wouldn't have been what it turned out in the end - an inspiring moment in life and the birth of numerous ideas, projects and - most of all - long-lasting friendships.
Andy made us smile when there was no reason to smile, crackin a joke when things got too tense and most importantly - encouraged me to keep on going my way as a performer/songwriter just by doing his thing and being an example. For four consequent years we were touring in that lose line-up varying from four to eight artists. As touring is what it is there were both magic and exhausting moments, good times and difficult times. What made me keep going was this cheerful chap from St Albans. What a friend.

After the last Low Stars tour we regularly met when I was playing the UK, either sharing stage with The Trailer Trash Orchestra, Los Chicos Muertos, popping into Bill's Blue Angel Acoustic Sunday or just hangin out and chatting about over a couple of drinks. So many memories... Playing pinball the whole night after a Kulmbach show, Andy showing me around gardens in Hertforshire he took care of, having my first ever full English with him in Portsmouth. The night we spent talking, talking, talking till dawn in that trailer he used to live in then somewhere near Luton.
I never gave up hope Andy would make it over to the mainland for a tour together. Revisiting the places we played before, exploring new ones, going crazy and making friends with new people. Spending time on the road with one of the best mates you can be on tour with. It's not going to happen. A bleedin shame.

I'm glad he found the time to contribute some fiddle to my last album early 2018, and we had the opportunity to perform together in London this year February. Means a lot to me. Hope they're well-stocked up where we'll probably meet next. There'll be time for a decent bottle to share, brother. I know you'd like that. Bye Andy.

Fürth, 12 July 2019

Miracle healing. Southern France 2016.

During the last show I played with Grae J. Wall in Catalonia the problem occurred the first time. Middle of the gig the guitar pickup had these annoying drop outs. No sound - sound - no sound... Bloody mess. Left for Toulouse to play the Les Pavillons Sauvages, worried the whole thing would turn out a disaster just due to some technical issues. Fortunately it didn't. In fact maybe one of the best shows I had the pleasure to play 2016. For some reason the guitar worked all through the show, there was a fantastic crowd, I shared the evening with two most amazing acts (Koonda Holaa and Hilton) and the sound was just perfect. Surprisingly I didn't even fuck up my playing. The Les Pavillons Sauvages family took care of me in a way you don't really get to experience very often on tour. I owe you. A lot.

Insertion/Polaroid
Had a stroll along the Canal du Midi in the afternoon. I was walking towards two plain-clothes police officers walking a young woman away from one of the locks. There were another two uniformed officers obviously examining the scene, a medic followed the two policemen with the lady. She had a Mia Farrow kind of look to her, a tattoo on her arm, maybe the left one, looking terrified, staring at some spot somewhere behind me. I thought she should have been trembling but I think she wasn't. She looked like someone who had just seen or discovered something really terrible, something unspeakably scary, something not meant to be seen by anyone. It was a dim, mid-November afternoon, not particularly cold or warm. I remember there was some Italian chanson or schlager from some open window from across the canal adding a surreal soundtrack to the whole scenery.

As the following day was off I went to see two guitar shops for fixing my guitar. Paprika's Workshop had a look at it but couldn't help as they were up to their neck in work, the other one, Fred's Guitar Parts, was equally helpful but had no spare part for the out-of-phase switch being apparently the trouble maker that cut off the signal as soon as I touched it. Advise: well, can't do anything about it now on such short notice but...erm... maybe just don't touch it. There you are!
Checking the route to my next show in Tarbes I realized this little town in the south of France is just about a 30 minutes ride away from Lourdes. It may sound silly but that's the kind of thinking you inadvertently get into being on tour. "What's good for the blind and the crippled can't be bad for Mäkkelä's guitar." is what I thought... You might figure what I was hoping for.

I drove there. I parked the car. I felt a bit stupid about the whole idea so I didn't take the guitar out of the car. Instead I walked down towards the St Bernadette church or grotto or whatever it is behind it's massive iron gate. I've been told about endless rows of water tabs where one can fill own bottles for some take-away holy water for home healing business. Unfortunately I didn't have a spare bottle on my walk down the hill in the old town of Lourdes. Down the deserted main drag of Bernadette merchandise wonderland, past closed memorabilia shops, through the drizzle, across the river... This was like a film set of some weird road movie. I took a photo of the gate with the Bernadette fountain behind it, at least I assume that's what it's called, turned around and walked back. That's when I spotted what's very likely one of the biggest merchandise supermarkets I've seen all my life. All kind of useful things you would like to take home from your pilgrimage. Candles all sizes, snow globes all sizes, Bernadette shaped bottles (didn't find the dildo shaped ones I've been told about), both filled with water and empty in a broad variety of qualities and makes, a huge selection of things I don't know what they're for, a dashboard-pope and to my big surprise also a dashboard-Mr Bean, the latter in the bargain section. If you ever get there have a look at the Palais du Rosaire. Highly recommended. And still, please believe me, I'm not taking the piss here. It's just yours truly stumbled into a slightly surreal scenery totally new to him. And yes, there was still that thought something around here might help me with my guitar. I did spend about 18 Euros in holy merch for which I got a surprising lot of things including a very small vial with sacred water. Picked up my car and headed for Tarbes. On the drive, mulling over the afternoon, I had to admit my belief has apparently got it's limits. No, I wasn't going to pour the water on my guitar. If that healing power was strong enough just the effort of going there, willing to believe in it, should be enough. Even though I turned out too much of a sceptic at the end of the day.

 

Tarbes. I like Tarbes. I liked it from the moment I bought my first parking ticket there. A bargain. I liked it when I saw the Celtic Pub Is Not A Pub where I was about to perform in with all its posters of a surprising lot of bands I either know or played with before. I liked it when I walked through town and saw the shop window with the penguins and seagulls. I seriously started to love it when the sound was brilliant, JL the bar owner turned out to be a wonderful bloke, the audience was well into what I did on this Friday night and it was packed. You wouldn't expect this in a small town in the south of France. As little as on that very evening the young guy from Hamilton, Ontario probably expected a Finnish-German songwriter playing "End of me", a song written by Wax Mannequin, an artist from his home town and chatting about just recently strolling down James Street N. and having played a gig at the This Ain't Hollywood. Ended the evening with a stiff Picon Bière.

You should also know I'm still brooding about the fact my guitar worked perfectly ok for that night and all the rest of the tour. So...

2016. Germany - France - Scandinavia - Baltics - Poland.

Started slowly in January, performing solo at Egersdörfer & Artverwandte (a fantastic, indescribably bizarre variety/comedy show), supported The Vibrators with The Très Biens, had a most enjoyable 30 minutes feature on BR2 radio in February, first recording sessions for the new album were made with Isi on double bass, Max on drums, Christopher on Sax and Andy of the Goho Hobos on Mandolin and Accordion. What a band! Mixed "Harbour Town" for the digital single release (featuring the wonderful Nightbird who co-wrote the song) plus the "flip side", a rendition of Geoff Berner's "Whiskey Rabbi" with Mr Curley Kauper on harmonica. Played two unforgettable solo shows in France (Strasbourg and Lille) in early April before setting out with Isi Roessler on double bass for the German leg of my tour with Nightbird from Finland. Two magic weeks. From Sarreguemines in France across the south-west and south of Germany it was sheer pleasure. Thanks to all the promoters who booked us there. But listen up now! Whenever things look brightest be prepared for fate taking some of it's funnier twists. It all looked just perfect in early May: from 18 May until 16 June, a nicely booked tour, not necessarily the best paid one but still OK, lay there like a red carpet just waiting for me to walk it down all the way from Germany across Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria and back to Germany again. Some grants to our credit (helpful as the last nine shows were in full band line-up), distances not too rough, all pretty close to what I'd call well organized. Sounds awesome, eh? Well, it was. For the first 24 h least. In retrospect, I don't think there hasn't been a tour I ever been closer to just stop the car, do a u-turn and drive back. That must have been around day six. How come? Maybe a short summary of the first six days can explain this...

Wednesday, 18 May
Meeting with Grae J Wall & Los Chicos Muertos in a wonderful middle-of-nowhere village in the south-west of Germany for a first show. All good. Felt somewhat like playing that indomitable Gaul village. Smooth and pleasant start.

Thursday, 19 May
Ah... Houston, we've got a problem here! This town's name is Kassel which has got one of the best cake shops in Germany which is good. Unfortunately the promoter's buddy set the facebook event to secret so apart from him and Mr Mäkkelä nobody really knew there was a gig... Well, shit happens. Been fed, watered, put up for the night and paid some gas money. Fair enough, thanks. Really.

Friday, 20 May
Off. Kassel to Copenhagen in one go seems a bit too ambitious. So let's drive to the north end of Germany/south end of Denmark find a cheapo Air B&B, take a little rest, sleep and continue relaxed and refreshed. Good plan. In theory. That whole idea appears to be not half as relaxing once you manage to lose the key to the room, unfortunately a master key for the whole bloody students flat, few seconds after receiving it. Results in extra expenses of EUR 250.-

Saturday, 21 May
Back in business. Just a tiny little streak of bad luck. Let's look ahead! Copenhagen is waiting. Last shoppings done in Germany: chocolate, tobacco, few bottles of wine. Things largely unaffordable in most of Scandinavia. Prepared. But hey what's that? What is that big, black, brand new BMW giving me signs on the Danish motorway? What's wrong here? Unmarked police car? Well, maybe better stop on the hard shoulder. This is getting even weirder now... There's a young man in a cheap blue blazer, jumping out of the car rushing wildly gesticulating towards my vehicle... "Man, I'm in trouble! Need your help!" "Sorry?" "Give me 100 EUR! I'm running out of petrol and have to sell this car to some really rough Russian guys in Copenhagen today! PLEASE! You take my gold chain, smart phone, wristwatch, everything! PLEASE!" "Sorry, mate. I'm really broke myself. Can't help, really!" (he's checking the car and apparently realizes there might be some truth in what I just said) "So, what about the chocolate?" "Erm... sorry? What chocolate?" "For the kids! The chocolate!" (I'm really confused now) "What kids? What chocolate?" He grabs the big pack of Kinder chocolate from the seat, runs back to his car and off he goes. Wow. This is weird. Apparently I just became the victim of the first chocolate robbery I heard of. In Denmark. Right on the motorway. Will have to think
about this for a while I suppose. Few minutes later the call comes in from Copenhagen the main act of the evening has to cancel for tonight. Means the band that was supposed to pull at least some crowd will not be there for the door rated show. I'm a bit worried. I'm not even in Sweden and things already look kinda shitty...

Sunday, 22 May
Well, Copenhagen is a nice city. Let's leave it to that. I wasn't robbed and they gave me free drinks at the venue. I'm sure the sky will clear up now. Leaving for Sweden, a safe and sound country with a strong and organized police force, maybe the safest place in Scandinavia. Going to meet Nightbird in Gothenburg for our first show together. Will be very likely completely broke after paying the toll for the bridge but that's it! Now the merch sales will increase, the Swedes are friendly and generous and the weather seems to be alright. It turns out there is no point in parking a car out in the street in Gothenburg. Also, the hostel guys recommend to pay few crowns extra for the basement car park. Not much more than out on the street and much safer of course. Done. Sorted. We're early, so Nightbird and me have a little stroll down to the venue which looks... erm... not really very open. In fact this place looks absolutely dead. But, as I said, we're really early. Nightbird calls the promoter and...: "Oh no! You guys are the only ones I forgot to inform. We're closed since today for renovations for the next three weeks. There won't be a gig tonight. But maybe you can call this and this number. They might put you guys up on short notice...." This seems to all follow a certain logic. This streak seems to last a bit too long for my liking. Even though on short notice We surprisingly end up with a replacement show in a lovely venue named Pustervik. Dragging our gear back to the hostel after the show I start feeling kind of optimistic we're back in track now. Waking up late morning I realize I'm out of tobacco. No problem - there's enough in the car. Just down the stairs in the garage. The same car where there is the emergency stash of red wine, my fresh t-shirts, panties, all this. The same car that is parked safely for 150 Swedish Crowns in a car park off the terribly expensive and dangerous streets of Gothenburg. The very car I'm just now looking at, intensely trying not to believe what I'm staring at. Part of my brain just doesn't want to accept the fact that the nearside door lock is dangling from it's designated position in a most unfamiliar way on a thin lead. Houston, we... Fuck. Sorry for using swear words. That could have been the moment for packin it in. It's been a close call. As shitty the situation was, at least no instruments or valuables were in the car and the guys who broke in had apparently unusual preferences. They didn't nick the case with mics and leads. They left all the merchandise apart from a box of 7" eps "Single Of The Year". They took all the tobacco (of course), all the red wine (of course), a bloody cell phone charger for EUR 5.- (why on earth?), an old suitcase with t-shirts, panties, socs (well,...), my old black suit (that wasn't fair) and my old tour jacket with all the badges I collected en route (may you rot in hell for that).

Monday, 23 May
Sightseeing. Mainly Gothenburg police department. Might be worth coming back, the officer were really interested in what kind of stuff I'm playing. So much about the less fortunate bit of this year's touring season. The overall situation slowly improved after this, i.e. moving on towards Finland was sort of easy to handle. Getting on the boat in Stockholm (after a lovely Tuesday, playing an afternoon show at the TWANG!) had no more difficulties to offer than two cancelled shows prior to entering the cuntry. Ooops. Sorry for that. Don't get me wrong - we had some really pleasant shows in Finland. Surprisingly enough we found on very short notice replacements for the gigs that fell through. Thanks a lot for helping us in HKI (House Of Love) and Turku (Sointu)! Vastavirta, Tampere and Vakiopaine, Jyväskylä plus the one I played in Rovaniemi with Otto Mikkola were particularly amazing. Had a fun afternoon visiting Radio Helsinki with Nightbird for a little interview at Njassa's show. People who turned up for the shows were great and seemed to really like what we did. Enjoyed meeting friends again I haven't seen in a while made up for a lot of trouble even though I think this can be done with less effort by just flying over. But still there is something in the back of my mind that keeps on nagging that more and more promoters/venues up there seem to fancy the concept of seeing artists like some sort of aggravating, exotic life form turning up primarily to reduce the venues liquid inventories and thus should not be treated too friendly.

So let's move on to the Baltics. Kultuuriklubi Kelm in Tallinn, Estonia was a lovely place to perform in. The nights bill looked promising: Mäkkelä solo, two progressive/post-rock bands from St Petersburg and a local headliner. I wasn't surprised to hear the local headliner cancelled on short notice. Business as usual. As the two young lads in whose flat I was supposed to stay the night were in party-mode full-on I decided to leave town right after packing up in the wee hours and drive straight to Liepaja in Latvia. Ambitious go but not feasible. It's a nice drive, probably even nicer in daylight. Made it almost down to Riga for a little nap on the Baltic Sea shore. The exciting bit started from there. If you ever happen to make it there by car be prepared that main roads or roads classified as A-Roads are not necessarily asphalted roads. This might take more time than you would expect after checking your road map or following instructions of your GPS. You won't regret it though as you will see herons, cranes, foxes, storks and all kind of wild animals both on the roadside or just crossing the road without giving too much of a fuck on who or what is just coming their way. Exciting! I liked that. As much as I liked the people at the Ideju Bode and Martins the guy who organized the show. Very special in a lot of ways, very rewarding concert. Among my favourite places 2016.
Hope to catch up some day soon.

Biala Poslaska. The least I would have expected was a vegan restaurant in the very east of Poland, not too far from the Belorussian border. Neither would I have expected to play a wonderful show there on an early Sunday evening. Before I came here the first time with Ozzmond I had to look it up on Google. Not the place you would regularly travel through I suppose. Not really on a main route to anywhere but one of the most welcoming places I've been to. Some of the nicest people there I met on tour. Very special. If playing there was like diving into a strange and friendly new universe the first time in 2015, this time it was touching the hearts of an audience and being touched the same time. In the unlikely event you're coming through town, look for some Karma. You'll find it. And you'll know what I mean.

Insertion/Polaroid
They took away the great balloon. The one you can have a ride with for a few Sloty. They would let you rise up into the clear blue sky for a sight across town. Maybe further. I didn't go there. I just saw it up there and it was enough of a promise to make me come back. One day, I thought, I'd take a ride. Missed it. Got the best ice cream in town instead and a walk on the bank with Michal and Paula. She said "I don't think I'll ever go back. I became too European living here." I think I understand. Firemen on a mission blocked the road next to the bridge we took across the river, with our ice cream, with life being sweet, strawberry flavoured and easy for a little while in the sunshine, the sculpture of a pig in the middle of the mighty stream. I could set there, watch it flow, not let go of a fist full of bliss while time would just stop for a little while. There is something about rivers I can't name.

 

Via Baltica 2016

Two awful long rides. 72 h mostly behind the wheel. Turku. The ferry. Tallinn. Liepaja. Biala Podlaska. A minimum of sleep, roughly 1500 kilometers including a fair bit of gravel road in Latvia, a little nap on the driver seat, dozing away with a view of the baltic sea in the greyish dim morning light somewhere north of Riga. All muscles aching from both the endless driving and the fab but straining last gig in Tallinn, dizzy from staring onto the neverending dotted yellow line in front of me. Was it yellow? Blurred images of service stations on the nightly Via Baltica. Rush in, grab a coffee, a chocolate bar, still believing that little extra sugar would keep me awake long enough for another 20 or 30 kilometers. Just to make it in time for yet  another poorly paid gig? For the vague possibility of being rewarded by a small audience that appreciates the songs, the playing, the putting in everything you've got way beyond emotional exhaution? It's mad. It's totaly, utterly insane.

What makes people do things like that? They do it because it's worthwhile. Because nobody else would do it. Because there is nothing comparable to having given them the story of your life, all that you are, to people who have been strangers to you half an hour earlier, taking the risk of being turned down. Being ignored, being hurt in the worst case. But then there is nothing comparable to that wave of bliss following a short period of complete emptiness if it worked that particular night. Absolutely nothing.
Might be the idea of catching a fracture of a second's glimpse onto the other side. To have a stroll on that faraway boulevard, that high street of an inbetween world. Grabbing this shorter than short moment of eternal luck, being part of it, of a different world most people will never have the chance to see. Sure I know. It's playing with matches but it's irresistible once you've been there and made it back. It's one of those few remaining moments of magic in a world that has become too factual in it's functionality to allow such. A world trying to stop us from dreaming and thus putting it's sheer existence at risk.

Mäkkelä's tour blog 2016: the big chocolate robbery

I suppose it was a sign. Just about leaving my flat for this tour's first date I flushed the toilet and - bang! - that damn thing is jammed. Even though being not the most caring person I kind of understood it wouldn't have been a good idea to leave the place like this for four weeks. Calling some plumbers, wait for them to arrive, being late, being even more late, calling girlfriend and leaving this all to her (sorry for this) and setting out for a place called Hessenau. Lovely little first gig teaming up with my St Albans friends Grae J Wall & Los Chicos Muertos in a wonderfully bizarre location, middle of nowhere in the backwoods of Baden-Württemberg, Germany. Next stop Kassel. Arriving early enough for a cuppa in my favourite cake shop just to realize I forgot my mic stand at home. Made it to a music shop just before closing time to buy a new one. The show turns out to be, let's say, semi successful. They accidentally set the facebook event to "secret". Didn't work out very effectively for promoting the gig. Well, that kind of stuff happens, but still I didn't see the signs. Maybe because it always takes a while to realize a tour is a tour, not a holiday trip. Things got more interesting on day #3 heading north for Copenhagen. This being a pretty long drive I decided to stay the night in Flensburg, Germany right on the Danish border. Air B&B is what we touring lunatics use these days. Basically a good idea if I hadn't lost the main key to the flat about one minute after it was given to me. Excellent. Turned out to cost me EUR 250.- unless I'd return the key before August. Not very likely to happen after all that was still to come. I assume that key is now somewhere in or near Gothenburg/Sweden but more about this later.

But let's move on to day #4. A real highlight on this tour. Still don't know what this has been.
Been driving for about one hour on a nice motorway in Denmark, one of the strongholds of European civilization and sure no country one would associate with being particularly dangerous, when a big black BMW gave me signs, made me slow down and stop on the hard shoulder. "Are they in trouble?", the writer of these lines asked himself, or maybe an unmarked police car? None of this. A youngish person in a cheap blue suit jumps out, approaches my car asking me to turn down the window. Alright, apparently no policeman. A desperate human being as it turns out. "Man, I'm in trouble! Need to get that car to Copenhagen, sell it to some Russians. Running out of petrol, please give me EUR 100.-! You can have my smartphone, my rings, my gold chain, the whole lot!"
It took me a while to convince him there's nothing even close to EUR 100.- as me being a musician on tour not doing very well money wise. Next thing the guy points at the pack of chocolate bars on the passenger seat. "What about the chocolate?" "Sorry????" "I mean the chocolate bars!" "Whatcha talking about?" "For the kids! The chocolate!" This confuses me. A lot. Even more confusing, the guy grabs the pack of chocolate bars, runs off to his car and gone. Both. Big black car and all of my chocolate bars. Didn't even get one of the rings for this. Sad but true. Still wondering what this has been.

Nightbird with coffee. Gothenburg.

But now let's stop whining as we're approaching day #5. My first show with Nightbird on this tour and my first ever in Gothenburg, Sweden. What an adventure.

Met Nightbird, checked into hostel, booked car park in nearby garage rented out by the hostel for SEK 150.-. Good. Drove to venue. Ok, we're pretty early this time, but hey, this place looks kinda very shut down. And not just for now. Good thing is, Nightbird is a multilingual bird, she even speaks Swedish. As also being a pretty clever bird she decides to ring up the promoter what time we may expect the place to open for soundcheck. Turns out to be a smart move. The guy forgot to inform us the venue is closed down for renovation the next couple of weeks from today on. Show cancelled. But: there is an open-mic night in town this very evening, we're told. You guys might get a slot there... After all I don't really mind. Why not. We're screwed anyway. But you must never give in, miracles still happen as we all know.
At Pustervikens Bar, a fantastic bar & concert venue, they wouldn't let us participate in the open mic thing, instead they offer us a proper gig in the bar area, put up a stage & pa, we get fed, all hunky dory. I'm impressed. This place regularly hosts shows of all the big names touring Sweden. Mark Lanegan was here, The Jayhawks and Ian Hunter are coming and now it's Nightbird and Mäkkelä. Seemingly my streak of bad luck has come to an end. Well, let's wait for day #6.

That's me waking up late morning, a happy person with an off-day on tour, taking a stroll to the garage to pick up some clean shirt and a pack from my stash of rolling tobacco.
You might know that kind of moment in life. You're staring at something that's actually there but your brains try to tell you it's not. Just because accepting it's there would make you feel extremely unhappy. It's a good thing for which I like the brains being what they are. Then, after a few seconds time that very brain cautiously would make you figure there's not too much about this you can do but cope with the fact it's really there. Like for instance the sight of the lock of your car door dangling on a lead from the place you've seen it the last time. Which is not exactly the place it should be dangling quite apart from the fact car locks aren't usually dangling anywhere. Obviously the respective lock you're just staring at is not in it's designated position. Next thing your brain would tell you is, this is in fact your car and it looks pretty much like a car someone has broken into. It'll be by that time you realize you might be in trouble and rather check what's left of your belongings...

Counting the losses results in a surprisingly strange selection of nicked items. Two boxes ( ca. 45 copies) of 7" eps "Single Of The Year", limited edition hand numbered, the black sleeve version. Eight packs of rolling tobacco. Six bottles of red wine. A brown leather suitcase without handle containing all I've got to wear on this tour. One black suit, worn out. One old Swedish army jacket. One blue jacket with a lot of badges on and a patch my Slovakian Skate-Folk (that's right, a new genre I just discovered last year down there) friends of Sketord gave me. An inner sole of one of my shoes. A shoulder bag with my Opinel knife in. A carrier bag with old table cloths, books and some kind of charity shop stuff I was planning to drop at my family's cottage in Finland (why on earth this...?). A car adapter for my phone charger. A Finnish mobile phone card. Lemme think... Oh yes, there is still the chance I lost that Flensburg key in my car while leaning over unloading my gear few days ago. In that case this key has possibly found a new home somewhere in Gothenburg.
Interesting also what remained untouched. A brand new quality mic stand. An alu case including a sm58 microphone, all my leads (good quality, expensive ones), all the CDs, all the LPs (apparently they had a look at them as one was taken out of the box and not put back.... well, that's alright, I put it back, good you didn't like it), most of the 7" eps. Hey boys, I might be wrong in this, but I've got a feel if you carry on this way you won't make it big time in your profession. Also they left me some litter. The wrapping of two Swedish chocolate bars. I'm slightly worried about the future of organized crime in Scandinavia after this. They've got some weird chocolate thing going up here.


At least it has been an unexpectedly professional job. No windows smashed, they just drilled open the door lock. Thanks for this. Looking at the positive aspects of this we've got a lot more space in the car now and it does make a lot more sense playing "Light Enough To Travel". There is some comfort in this I suppose. Also the car is still moving and we can continue to Stockholm. I've got a vague feel we do urgently need some sort of turning point on this whole trip. Realistically it's been going downhill so far. A good gig, with some pay and a some merchandise sales might cheer us up.

An important thing to mention here is also my deepest gratitude to all of you out there who reacted on my facebook posts re. this incident. That was a massive wave of helpfulness and support. I've been offered red wine, shirts, jackets, money, you name it! Countless people reposted this, some I know, a lot I never met. All of this highly appreciated! Thanks to all of you for these encouraging messages, posts, mails. May the chocolate gods be with you.

More or less interesting images taken on this tour can be found on the maekkelae facebook page or group.

Homeland? What homeland?

I've never been the kind of person to be proud of my country. Not because I thought it'd be pathetic, simply because it just never crossed my mind. Apart from that it's still difficult to tell which of both it is. Finland? Germany? What has changed significantly though is to what extent I'm ashamed of it. Surprisingly it doesn't make much difference these days. Both being home for way too many people sporting an attitude of narrow-mindedness, homophobia, xenophobia or worse. Still the number of good people not sharing this kind of attitude is fortunately big enough to make it worth staying. Or at least I still want to believe this. For both countries. Still I do strongly believe that most of the people I met in countries I've been performing in are welcoming, warm hearted and open-minded human beings. Those were the people I had the luck to meet all over Europe, those are the ones who keep up my belief that borders are meaningless boundaries, invisible lines drawn by politicians with a helping hand from multinational corporations to control people and make them believe what's on the other side is a thread, the source of all evil. All those people I've been fortunate enough to run into, no matter if from Prague, Vienna, Munich, Zilina, Ferrara, Figueres, Lille, Huddersfield, Helsinki, Zurich or Krakow, are the ones I do believe in. Random encounters becoming friends or even close friends. People I hope to be the ones to make this continent one worth living in. There's a lot of them out there and their number is growing. Let's pray this may just be the start of it.

Martti Mäkkelä, 26/12/2015

Last Of A Dying Breed. Tourblog 2015. Episode 7. Das Ende.

Von Barcelona nach Norden. Letzter Eintrag.

Figueres. Wird das Café Royal noch da sein? Ein seit Generationen von einer Familie betriebenes Café an der Rambla. Dali und Bunuel waren hier schon gesessen und haben sich über andalusische Hunde ausgetauscht. Sagt man. Bereits vor drei Jahren hieß es das Gebäude würde abgerissen, offenbar haben wir doch noch eine Chance erhalten bei Pep ein Estrella zu ordern. Überschaubare Menge dann beim Auftritt zwei Ecken weiter. Tolles Publikum dennoch. Am Ende wird es noch wild. Ein ziemlich durchgerockter Typ kreuzt nach unserer Show auf. Packt seine Gitarre aus, spielt. Rumba, Flamenco, you name it. Hot Gypsy Stuff. Wir steigen ein. Mit Bouzouki und Gitarre. Mädchen fangen an zu tanzen, steuern Handclap-Percussion bei. Ich bin wieder mittendrin. In dieser fiebrigen, surrealen Atmosphären-Suppe, schwimme in einem bizarren Traum. Ein geisterhafter Abend. Ricard, der stoische Barmann, die Handclaps, die Gesten der Tanzenden, der heisere, von ganz tief unten herausbrechende Gesang des alten Roma, sein zerfurchtes Gesicht. Wortfetzen, Halbsätze, "You must not go! You stay! Play!!!". Uns wird angeboten nächstes Jahr im Knast von Figueres zu spielen.

Girona, Café Llibreria Context. Gepackt voll. Ganz anders als vergangenes Jahr. Es läuft. Es läuft gut. Tags darauf nochmal besser. Sant Feliu de Guixols. Vielleicht der gelungenste Auftritt der diesjährigen Shows in Katalonien. Und das in einer der schönsten Städte in die es mich auf dieser Tour geschwemmt hat.
Warum hat uns eigentlich bislang noch keiner hier her geschickt oder gesagt das es dieses Nest gibt? Es hätte nicht schöner sein können. Vor dem Soundcheck noch das 4:0 von Barca gegen Real gesehen, dann auf einer der schönsten Bühnen der Tour, bei perfektem Sound vor einem super-interessierten Publikum die Ideallinie gefunden. Momente die bleiben.

Barcelona wird der angemessene Abschluss dieses Tourabschnitts mit Grae J Wall. Erwarten nichts bekommen viel. Das Gipsy Lou im Raval überraschend gut besucht. Sehr gut. Das Programm läuft hervorragend und wir verdienen tatsächlich Geld an diesem Abend. Nicht selbstverständlich für Bar Gigs in dieser Stadt.

Wir packen die Instrumente zurück ins Hotel an der Rambla und ziehen nochmal los, auf einen Absacker in die London Bar. Während wir einen Drink nehmen kommt zufällig ein Pärchen rein die unseren Auftritt im Gipsy Lou gesehen haben, bedanken sich nochmal. Der junge Barmann wird hellhörig. "You musicians? You have to play here!". Gerne. Nächstes Jahr. Es stellt sich heraus der Typ ist absoluter Townes van Zandt und Steve Earl Fan. Country/Songwriter Stoff generell. Plötzlich sind zwei Gitarren da. Plötzlich entpuppt sich der Kumpel des Barmanns als sensationell guter Gitarrist. Plötzlich endet der Abend in einer intimen Session. Townes van Zandt, Woody Guthrie, Steve Earle. Anglo-catalanisch-finnische Bruderschaft. Die Getränke gehen auf's Haus. Es wird spät.

London Bar, Barcelona.

Wieder allein unterwegs. Nach Stops in Montpellier und Lyon spiele ich Basel an einem Mittwoch. Charmant. Gute Menschen, wenig Publikum. Genieße es trotzdem.
Fahre in 10 Stunden von da nach Dunkerque. Straßensperren in Frankreich. Wir sind im Krieg. Es macht mich wütend ein ungutes Gefühl haben zu müssen weil da zehn Typen mit automatischen Waffen stehen, einige davon maskiert. Was ist hier eigentlich los?

England. Es ist ende November, das Wetter erstaunlich trocken hier und Southampton ein guter Einstieg. Auftritt im Mettricks mit Bar:Ton und Hermione Pepper. Ersterer mit einem Psych-Folk Instrumental-Set auf dem Mandocello, letztere mit sphärischem Goth-Folk. Gesang und Autoharp. Eigenwillige Geschichte, nicht ganz meine Tasse Tee, aber gut gemacht. Sitze nach dem Auftritt noch lange mit Richard aka. Bar:ton und seiner Freundin zuhause. Tourgeschichten austauschen, Tee trinken.
Auf der Fahrt nach St Albans, tags darauf, habe ich es dann wieder. Dieses Gefühl das mich trotz aller Widrigkeiten die dieses Land für Acts wie mich mit sich bringt, immer wieder hierher zieht Es ist vielleicht eine der größten Herausforderungen für einen Solo-Performer in Europa. Vielleicht noch etwas mehr für einen nicht Native Speaker. Dir bleibt nichts anderes übrig als gut zu sein, und wenn Du es bist, wird es respektiert. Auch wenn es jenseits des Mainstream ist, auch wenn es vielleicht etwas eigenwillig ist, man hört Dir auf jeden Fall zu, Du bekommst Deine Chance. Das die Bezahlung in der Regel katastrophal ist soll mal nicht verschwiegen werden. Ruppiges Land mit einer einzigartigen (Pop-)Musik Kultur.
Der Auftritt im Trestle Arts Base dann ein echtes Highlight. Vier Acts, fetter Sound, gut besucht. Hi-energy Auftritt. Pures Glück. Noch unter dem Eindruck des Abends beschließe ich am folgenden Tag noch spontan einige Songs im Blue Angel Acoustic Cafe zu spielen, einem seit 18 Jahren laufenden Open Mic Abend in St Albans, humorvoll und kompetent gehostet von Bill und Perry. Das stürmische Wetter treibt eine bunte Mischung aus Spinnern und Normalos in das Pub. Ich liebe das hier. Einige Acts völlig daneben, einige absolut großartig. Jeder kriegt seine Chance und jedem wird zugehört. Aufmerksam. Respektvoll. Für mich wird es anschließend Zeit Schlaf nachzuholen. Möglichst viel davon.

Ein guter Moment dies hier als den letzten Blog-Eintrag stehen zu lassen. Vor mir liegen noch vier UK Dates, einer in Lille und vier Shows in Deutschland. Letztere dann doch noch erfreulicherweise mit Isi Rössler und - auf den freu ich mich besonders - einer zusammen mit Geoff Berner in Dachau. Ich hoffe wir sehen uns dort. Irgendwo. Irgendwann. Sollte jemand diesen Blog hier verfolgt haben - Danke. Die Reise war lang dieses mal und sie ist noch nicht zu Ende. Es wird daher sicher immer wieder mal was neues hier, auf FB oder der Mäkkelä Seite geben. Wer möchte kann gerne ab und an mal vorbeisehen. Ein spezielles Dankeschön an das Roadtrack Magazin an dieser Stelle.





St Albans, 01.12.2015
Martti Mäkkelä


Für das Roadtracks Magazin geschrieben, findest Du bis Dezember 2015 in diesem Blog Nachrichten, Wasserstandsmeldungen, Befindlichkeitsnachweise und vermutlich auch den einen oder anderen Link aus der etwas unkalkulierbaren "On Tour"-Parallelwelt von Mäkkelä's Tour zu seinem am 4. September veröffentlichten Album "Last Of A Dying Breed". Alle kommenden Konzerttermine auf maekkelae.com.

Last Of A Dying Breed. Tourblog 2015. Episode 6

Supersense, Città Vecchia und Freitag der 13.11. 

Irgendwo im Netz bin ich vor dem Tourstart drüber gestolpert. Irgend so ein Blog, was weiß ich. Das oder die Supersense. Café, Laden für Vintage Kameras, Druck mit Bleisatz, Holzschnitt, so Zeug, analog Equipment und scheinbar auch analoges Tonstudio. So richtig vorstellen konnte ich mir's da allerdings nicht. Letztendlich richtig neugierig gemacht hat mich die Aufzugskabine. Eine Jugendstil Aufzugskabine in der man für einen kleinen Obolus eine Mono-Aufnahme von 90 Sekunden machen kann, die direkt in Vinyl geschnitten wird. Oder war's Azetat? Oder ist das das gleiche? Egal. Aufregend hört sich das allemal an. Genau der richtige Boxenstopp auf dem Weg zum Graz Auftritt. Ich bin völlig begeistert. Vorsichtig ausgedrückt. Nicht nur das man im Café im Eingangsbereich erstmal eine Melange oder einen großen Braunen nehmen kann, nein, es gibt auch noch obskurste Vintage-Gitarren zum Verkauf. So obskur das ich eigentlich mit anschauen völlig bedient bin.
Aber dann diese Aufzugskabine! Der Knaller! Ich nehme vier 7" auf. Zwei Versionen von "Lonesome Town" mit Omnichord, zwei von "Sergeant Small" mit dem Irish Bouzouki und bin jedes mal verblüfft wie lang 30 Sekunden doch sein können. Muss wieder hier her.

Der Dienstagabend Auftritt in der Kulturhure in Graz erweist sich als ein sehr familiärer. Wenig Leute, was aber bei der Größe völlig ok ist. Der Laden heißt übrigens wirklich so. Also eigentlich vollständig CuntRa La Kunsthure. Nettes Ding. Nette Leute. Sehr charmant.
Es folgt nach dem obligatorischen Kürbiskernöl-Einkauf am kommenden Tag eine überaus tunnelreiche Fahrt nach Trieste wo ich bei dem Schauspieler-Pärchen Eva und Lorenzo und deren Mitbewohner Simone aka. The Leading Guy (toller Singer/Songwriter Stoff) unterkomme.

Ferrara, sagt Dominik, ist die Stadt mit den glücklichsten Menschen in Italien. Statistisch gesehen. Das wird sich heute zeigen müssen. Zunächst mal ist es eine ausgesprochen hübsche Stadt mit einer hervorragend erhaltenen Mauer drumherum, wobei ersteres sich von Trieste auch sagen lässt. Das mit den glücklichsten Menschen kriegt auch relativ schnell einen unschönen Kratzer ab. Zumindest kann ich mir nicht vorstellen das Federico Aldrovandi, ein junger Stammkunde im Centro Sociale, so besonders glücklich darüber war als er hier in Polizeigewahrsam auf nach wie vor ungeklärte Art verstorben ist. Man sagt es wird intern ermittelt. Bislang ergebnislos. Ich verordne dem Polizeicorps von Ferrara in Gedanken einmal täglich "One Shoe" vom Klezmer Mongrels Album von Geoff Berner zum Morgenappell. Das das Centro Sociale ausgerechnet in der Viale della Resistenza liegt, passt wie Arsch auf Eimer. Gute Leute hier. Und: es ist mein erster Auftritt in Italien. Wird mir sicher unvergesslich bleiben. Der Abend ist sehr gut besucht. Der Sound toll. Das Set läuft perfekt, das Publikum begeistert. All das eigentlich zu schön um wahr zu sein. Irgendwer schneidet mit. Fast will ich mir das nicht anhören um den Eindruck des Abends nicht zu entzaubern....

Off-Day. Vormittag eines sonnigen Novembertages im Piemont, südlich von Turin. Bin bei Freunden untergekommen, irgendwo weit weg von stadtähnlichen Ansiedlungen. Das Anwesen, erbaut in den 60er/70er Jahren könnte eine Filmkulisse sein. Antonioni vielleicht. Geschlafen wie ein Stein nach einer tatsächlich großartigen Fahrt hierher. Tolle Strecke. Pisa - Genova - Torino. Allein wegen der Landschaft haben sich die Autobahngebühren gelohnt. Bei Ankunft dann Abendessen bei Daniela und Gigi's Familie. Jetzt weiß ich auch das es nichts Vergleichbares zu einem Abendessen in Italien, mit drei Generationen an einem Tisch, gibt. Ein quirliges, fröhliches, Chaos. Großartig. Ein Monat unterwegs jetzt und es ist ein nicht enden wollender Traum.

Genova. Der zweite Auftritt in Italien. Ich entscheide mich für die Landstraßen-Route und komme dabei durch Orte die ich bislang nur von Weinflaschen-Etiketten kenne. Asti, Alba, Gavi. Genova dann ein wüstes Durcheinander von Stadt aus Chic, Industrie, Hafen und verwinkelter Altstadt. Sympathisch trashig - fühle mich ausgesprochen wohl hier. Das vom Veranstalter gebuchte B&B ist klein, charmant, kitschig auf nette Art und war mal die Wohnung des Genoveser Cantautore/Legende Fabrizio de André. Dankbarerweise direkt neben dem Club, der Taverna Zaccaria. Eine super-nette Bar, die den Platz vor der Kirche nebenan als Freiluft-Gastraum nutzt. Zum wiederholten mal stelle ich fest das die Verköstigung hierzuland Top-Priority genießt. Da geht's wohl schon auch bisschen um die Ehre. Und es braucht Zeit. Italien, merke ich, ist grade auf dem besten Weg Katalonien kulinarisch den Rang abzulaufen. In meinem ganz persönlichen Ranking. Sensationell. Außer den Konzerten gibt's auf Tour ja nicht so allzu viel mit dem man sich beschäftigen kann. Das Essen nimmt da - zumindest bei mir - schon eine Schlüsselrolle ein. Noch vor dem Postkartenschreiben.

Nach der Show nehmen mich Simona, ihre Freundin und Bandkollegin deren Namen ich natürlich schon wieder vergessen habe und ihr Soundmann noch zwei Ecken weiter mit. In einem Wohnhaus mitten in der Città Vecchia stehen wir plötzlich in einem Wohnzimmer. Mit Bar. Mit Bühne. Mit Flügel, Drumkit und Amps. Ein schweine-gutes Jazz-Trio improvisiert. Man nötigt mich auch was zu spielen. Mag ich ja eher nicht so. Wird aber dann doch sehr schön. Mit den Jungs die eben noch gejamt haben und Simona am E-Bass spielen wir die vermutlich jazzigste Version von "Light Enough To Travel" die es jemals auf eine Bühne geschafft hat. Wunderschöne Stadt mit - jetzt - auch noch speziellen Erinnerungen.
Noch einen Tag totschlagen mit Sachen aufschreiben, etwas üben, vor allem essen, bis ich am Freitag nach Lyon fahre und dort meinen britischen Compadre Grae J. Wall treffen werde. Zusammen geht's dann nach der Lyon-Show südwärts nach Katalonien. Freu mich drauf. Vor allem nachdem ich mittlerweile gesund gefüttert wurde.

Die Alpen nebst Mont Blanc via Frejus-Tunnel unterlaufen. Da wo ich wieder an die Oberfläche komme schneebedeckte Berge in der Sonne, beeindruckendes Panorama mit Mautstation und Felswänden. Vermutlich waren die EUR 44.- Tunnelgebühr vor allem für diesen Ausblick gedacht. Wieder eine Fahrt durch eine Bilderbuchlandschaft, das Rhone Tal, in Richtung Lyon. Ausnahmsweise verlässt mich mein Navi diesmal nicht und ich finde das Kraspek Myzik auf Anhieb. Parkplätze zeigt sich, sind hier etwa so einfach zu finden wie in Trieste, Genova oder Wien, dafür ist diese Ecke von Lyon einer der schönsten Orte dieser Tour. Croix Rousse oder Les Pents heißt der Stadtteil glaub ich, ganz begriffen hab ich's aber wohl doch nicht. Egal. Hoch über der Stadt gelegen, verwinkelte Gassen, endlose Treppenfluchten, Hausdurchgänge - ein einziges Labyrinth. Bars, Cafés, kleine Läden, Tabac Shops. Wie dieses Eck der Gentrifizierung bisher entkommen konnte ist mir ein Rätsel.

Das Kraspek dann ist ein kleiner, super-sympathischer Club/Plattenladen/Kultureinrichtung, geführt von einem selbstverwalteten Kulturverein. Wir teilen uns den Abend mit June Bug aus Lille. Großartiges Duo. Stell Dir vor Jim Avignon/Neoangin mit einer Brise Folk und Sonic Youth. Als Krönung spielen sie als Zugabe die berührendste Version von Leonard Cohen's "The Partisan" die ich bisher zu hören bekommen habe. Gänsehautgarantie. Nicht zuletzt wegen des traumhaften male/female Harmoniegesang. Der Abend des 13. November lässt sich gut an. Gut besucht und sowohl June Bug, als auch Grae's lofi-country Set als auch der Anfang meines Auftritts kommen bestens an. Dann, mitten drin, kippt die Stimmung auf seltsame Weise. Plötzlich ist die Atmosphäre völlig verändert, fast jeder tippt wie verrückt auf seinem Smartphone rum. Auch noch als Grae und ich zusammen mit einigen gemeinsamen Songs den Abend abschließen. Was wir nicht wissen ist das zeitgleich in Paris Bomben vor dem Stade de France hochgehen und Konzertbesucher im Bataclan erschossen werden. Es ist fast wieder wie am 11. September 2001 als Grae und ich mit den Anglo German Low Stars auf Tour waren. Eine gespenstische, beängstigende Stimmung liegt in der Luft und wie damals dämmert mir das ich die Tragweite all dessen vermutlich erst in ein paar Tagen richtig begreifen werde. Party-Stimmung kommt nicht auf, allerdings sitzen unsere Gastgeberin Pauline und zwei Jungs vom Club mit uns noch bis in die Morgenstunden. Die Ereignisse in Paris lassen uns nicht los und werden es auch den Rest der Tour nicht tun. Erfreulich lediglich das zumindest keine Freunde und Verwandte der anwesenden Gäste zu Schaden gekommen sind.
Der folgende, strahlend sonnige Vormittag vergeht mit einem kleinen Spaziergang durchs Quartier, einigen Tassen Kaffee und einigen, absolut unvermeidlichen, natürlich exzellenten, Tartes. Wir laden den Wagen und machen uns auf den Weg nach Süden. Erste Etappe an diesem, spielfreien, Samstag. So weit wie möglich runter, übernachten und Sonntag dann der erste Auftritt in Katalonien, in La Bisbal d'Emporda. Etwas besorgt sind wir ob wir derzeit überhaupt über die Grenze kommen.

Für das Roadtracks Magazin geschrieben, findest Du bis Dezember 2015 in diesem Blog Nachrichten, Wasserstandsmeldungen, Befindlichkeitsnachweise und vermutlich auch den einen oder anderen Link aus der etwas unkalkulierbaren "On Tour"-Parallelwelt von Mäkkelä's Tour zu seinem am 4. September veröffentlichten Album "Last Of A Dying Breed". Alle kommenden Konzerttermine auf maekkelae.com.