A Barking Dog

December 18, 2003

Safe European Home

I'm Dave Stevens and you're not. This just in, Generalisimo Fransisco Franco is still dead... (ask your parents if you don't get that reference)

Last we left Ear Boy and his band of merry musos they were touring Mexico enjoying the nutty hijinks of the local promoter. This time it would be different. Ear Boy and the gang are continuing with a short tour of Spain, three dates to be exact. This is keeping with our tradition of touring countries that only speak Spanish, Mexico, Spain and California.

We were to spend nearly a quarter of the time we were gone in transit to Spain, and much of the time we were there doing ground travel to the gigs. My travel to Spain went pretty smooth. I boarded a flight to Philly from Sea-Tac to meet the rest of the party sans the star and tour manager who were flying through Newark. There were some ATC delays inbound to Philly and two of our parties flights were delayed enough to hold our flight for a while. There were at least five flights we waited for at Philly.

They've done a nice job on the Philly airport remodel. Last time I was there it was a shithole. Now it's an upscale traveler trap shithole, complete with Staples, The GAP and several other stores. It's like a mall with several jetways, though many US airports are the same way. When I'm on a layover at an airport that's just what I want, to be able to buy a thong at the Jockey store. At least they have a captive audience.

I don't normally fly US Air. For good reason, I've found. At least I get United miles. In the States, they charge for the food. Fuck me... Let's see, my employers have paid nearly full fare for the tickets and now I need to pay ten bucks to get something to eat (non heated) on this nearly six hour run to the east? And they wonder why the air travel industry has tanked. The service is for the most part shitty, getting through security is a hassle. I mean, in the "extra search" line I noticed three old ladies and several middle aged white business men. Just the profile that took down the Towers and Pentagon on 9/11. These folks look just like the Saudi citizens that took down those planes...NOT! Think you are really any safer with the TSA in charge? No, you're not. I'm still pissed at them for taking my Ultratorch on the way back from Mexico. Then losing it and basically telling me "tough shit". The TSA are basically glorified Wal-Mart security guards. I'm less than impressed. And don't get me started on Wal-Mart...

So we depart Philly with all on board for our trip to Madrid. We were to do a 1500 seat club in Madrid, a 3500 seat "arena" in Granada and a 5000 seat "ampitheater indoors" in Benidorm. The production looked pretty decent, though there were a few issues with console choices. In the olden days, the terms Spanish production and good were a contridiction of terms. Though I've been over several times since 1984, I only used Spanish production the first couple of times. The other times we brought our own. The hotels didn't look too bad either. This might be a cool gig after all. This time it looked like we had some decent gear. We land in Madrid about 20 mins behind schedule. No big deal. We clear customs and meet the promoter and the ground transport. For the gear and crew there is a Mercedes Sprinter configured in a split configuration. Reminds me of the old days when I did my first few European tours. In the later years it was busses and trucks, at times spending as much as half a year over there. I love Europe.

We land and make the hotel before 1100. Jet lagged as all hell. Just before noon the crew heads out for some food. We are missing FOH dude but pick up one of the band to join us. We basically made him join us. We head for the mall about 10 blocks down the street. After getting hassled by the cops for walking in a bus lane we thought was a crosswalk, we find the cafeteria "California". We have lunch and head back to the hotel just in time to catch siesta. If you've never been to Spain, many of the smaller retail businesses close between 1400 and 1800 (that's 2pm to 6pm gringo time). Restaurants and bars are still open and it appears a good time is had by all. I know that I enjoy it.

I return to my room and turn on the TV to watch one of only two English speaking channels, Sky News or BBCWorld. Next thing I know it's 2030 and lighting dude is ringing my phone. I've crashed hard for the last six hours or so. We have a new lighting dude, other lighting dude is on a tour and new dude is very cool. My kind of folk. He's an old roadie like the rest of us that's really good at his craft and has a great attitude. We decide to take it mellow and hit the Subway a couple of doors down. We'd considered LaVaca, the Argentinian steak joint but it was a few blocks away and we wanted to make an early night of it. Or so we thought. We wash our meatball subs down with Pepsi and head back to the hotel bar for a quick nightcap.

In the bar a gent approaches us. Seems he is the promoter and has stopped by to see the tour manager and production manager to go over some details. They never really confirmed a meeting time so he just stopped by. They're still out at dinner so he sits with me and lighting dude and tries to discuss details. I keep telling him, you need to talk to prod dude, not us. It doesn't seem to stick. There is a change in schedule. Sound won't go in until 1100 in the morning so we'll need to change our 0900 call. No worries, but he needs to call prod dude and let him know. He says he will and leaves. We end up closing the bar about four hours later after being joined by others in the entourage. A few of them venture out for after hours, which in Madrid is still regular hours. A couple of them saw the sun come up. We were good roadies and went up to bed.

Prod dude never gets a call and ends up in the lobby just before 0900 and has to call the promoter to find out where everyone is. Oooopps.... That's not a very good start. We gather just before 1100 and pack the crew and gear into a Sprinter and head for the gig. The first stop is a big disco. It's Friday and we have a 2300 curfew so they can start discoing at midnight. Oh joy, a disco load out. The place is called Macumba, a fairly popular spot with the kids. Holds about 1500, but I'm sure they pack more than that in there. There are a shitload of lights and even moving truss so we use that. There is a huge disco system, but we are using an Alpha-E rig provided by TheseguyssuckedsobadIcantremembertheirname sound company. The PA techs were nice, but weren't that good and the gear was hammered. My 48 channel Series 5 M was in reality a 40 channel SM20. The real bitch was that I use 44 inputs. Ah yes, an SM20, or Big Delta as I like to call them. It has the features and functions I need, I just don't care for the sound or the layout. Soundcraft, get over the reverse numbering thing. You're the only guys that do that now, start the auxes at the bottom and work up to the top while keeping the masters numbered from left to right. It's bassakwards, stop it. It's annoying. And while I'm busting your balls, I shouldn't have to download several MBs of pdf files to find out which console of yours suits my needs. I needed to research MH3s and MH4s and SM20s but couldn't just look at specs on the Web. If I could, they weren't easy to find cause I couldn't find them.

The SM20 had a couple of problems internally that had to be patched around. Add that to the intermittent snake and cable problems and it was a pretty shitty day. One more bitch about the SM20. On my planet the way concentric pots work are that they are supposed to turn independently. On the last few SM20s I've been on the concentric pots bind up and turn together. That's a "Bad Thing" (TM). Combine that with the fact you have to have fingers the size of an eight year old girl to operate the thing, it makes for a pretty unpleasant experience. An SM20 is on the "OK" list but if you bring one you may or may not be my friend for the day.

I still didn't know what to think about this promoter. The backline was two hours late, lunch was botched and the dinner break was a joke. Just at the line check, he cut the sound crew for dinner, though we were still having problems. "They have to eat", was his reasoning.

"Fine, we'll hold doors for an hour and hold the show for half an hour" was our response. Seems as though we have a hard disco load out curfew. We have to start at 2000. They pull one guy back from dinner, but he has no help and I end up troubleshooting it with him. I got shit to do, I can't spend my time fighting noise problems in a system that should never have left the shop. We patched around it and started the line check. As I went to check my inserts (10 comps, 5 gates) only a few of them worked, others seemed crosspatched or didn't work at all. With no tech, (she was still at dinner) I looked in the back of the rack. SON OF A BITCH! Most of the devices weren't patched at the rack end. This is simply unacceptable.

Show goes on about 20 mins late due to some rather inconveinent dinner arrangements as the act didn't finish eating until just after the scheduled start. The show was good, though only about a thousand or so showed. People seemed to enjoy it and that's what really matters. The disco load out wasn't so bad. They cleared the house for an hour and we were able to get a structured load out going. We were to load our backline with the rental backline. We would use different sound and lights but the same backline. Even though the backline guy was way late and didn't have all the stuff at first, he was a pretty good guy. Just wish he spoke english. As we were packing the gear into the rental van, actually I was sitting in the Sprinter watching the locals pack the gear, I couldn't help but be amazed at the clientel heading toward the que to get in the club that night. I might be an old man, but at least I'm a dirty old man. We contemplated changing from our roadie wear and heading back to the club. But we were too tired, or was that too old and decided just to catch a nightcap at the hotel bar. We had a 0930 depart the next morning for our run to Granada.

We met in the lobby just before depart time on Saturday morning. No bus. He was late. Nice. Way to make a good impression. He was supposed to be there at 0900 and didn't show until nearly 1000. We boarded and blasted out of town. And I mean blasted. This guy put the hammer down. Though instead of treating the cargo like humans, or even musicians, he drove like we were static cargo. This guy was doing his best Pedro Diniz through the Bus Stop at Spa impression. He accelerated suddenly, braked hard and cornered almost as hard as my kart. This guy was out of control. We were told the runs were no more than a "few hours" when in reality they were more like six. Why weren't we flying? The promoter said that by the time we got to the airport, made the plane, etc, it would take nearly as long. Maybe for a three hour drive, but these were over six. There were some pretty extreme schedules. Today was crew at 1600, band at 1700 doors at 2000. That wasn't going to happen. Prod dude had this conversation with the promoter well before we left. We really need three hours, though we can do it in less, you just have to listen to us bitch about it. It's a lot easier to give us the three hours then listen to four crusty old roadies make sarcastic smart ass comments. We're really not that bad, we're kind of funny in fact. Or at least we think we are.

I've been all over Spain, but never Granada. It's a nice, picturesque Spanish town with that old world Euro vibe going on. Small streets, centro plaza, very quaint. The 'burbs looked just like most of the rest of modern Spain, or Europe for that matter but the Centro was pretty cool. That's one of the things I dig about Europe, that old world vibe. We pull up in front of the AC Hotel. Nice place, one of the best hotels I've stayed at anywhere. Very trendy post Euro modern look, without the attitude from the staff. The staff was very friendly. I liked the place and would recommend it without hesitation. The one thing they lacked was high speed Internet. And of 20 or so Canal Digitale cable channels, not one of them in English. It was still a great place in an excellent location. We drop our bags and meet in the lobby for the gig.

We'd had a rather serious discussion about the meal situation earlier and basically the star laid the law down to the promoter. The crew will eat. Period. When and where they want. Period. This is not up for debate. Period. He didn't need any prompting from us. As soon as he and the tour manager heard what had happened, they made sure things were going to be right. They are some of the best folks I've every worked for. We stopped at the Embassy for Cuartro Libres. I wanted a Royale with Cheese so I could take a picture of the wrapper. I forgot it's France, not Spain. The gig was way out in the 'burbs, about 20-30 mins from the hotel.

We arrived at the venue just after 1630. The band was touring some castle in town and didn't plan on arriving until 1900 anyway. Backline dude did well, we were patched for the most part, with stands and cable awaiting our mics. There was one problem. Mon beach was on stage right. We specifically state stage left as the key players including the star face mostly stage left. Having the beach on SR means their backs are facing me and they have to turn to talk to me. We all communicate all show long, doing fine adjustments, etc. Though, these days I can pretty much tell what they need by listening to it.

The sound and lights were nice. A company called Sonocon provided quite a nice production. Heritage 2k out front, Meyer Milo and powered UPAs, nice outboard. I had an SM20 (though this one was in pretty good shape), a couple of 990's dbx 1066s and Drawmer gates. Good distro and active splitter. The crew was really good, it went like clock work. I did have to fix a few things in our rig. There were a couple of ear mixes taking RF hits and one of the KT DIs distorted under load. Other than that, it was pretty good. The room was called an arena, but it was a big square gymnasium that housed two basketball courts. It was pretty much like a high school gym. Packed to capacity, sold out.

We did a good gig, headed back to the hotel and had a nightcap. The beds at the AC were nice. Wish we had more time to spend in Granada. Cities like Granada are why I like touring in Europe. We had two shows down and the gig was good now. We'd got to know the promoter a bit more, he was a pretty cool guy. An ex-pat American that moved to Spain about 20 years ago. This wasn't like Mexico where HLB would try to get away with what he could. If something happened with Spanish promoter, it was pretty much because he was operating at the ends of his means, or trying to do more than he should.

We boarded the bus for Benidorm the next morning. Someone must have had a word with Senoir Driver as the ride today was much smoother. Traveling by day bus is a cool way to see the country, though I'd have prefered to see less than six hours in a day. We bounded from Granada to Benidorm down the Autovisa. Spain's economy seems to be roaring. There's new construction everywhere. Reminded me of Germany in the late '90s just before the capitol moved back to Berlin. The skys were littered with construction cranes. The Euro was strong, about 1.28 to the dollar so we were taking it in the shorts on exchange rates. US$100 got about 78 euros. Ouch. We were due to go back in Jan/Feb for England, Holland and Germany but there were some legal issues regarding the booking of the dates that I won't get into here. We'll try later again in the Spring, though I'm slated to do most of Europe with another band in June.

About 40km from Benidorm, we have to stop for a manditory 45 minute break for the driver. That blows. It's in a small travel plaza/ truck stop. We eat ice cream and drink Cokes to kill the time. No one is real pleased, but there is nothing we can do about it. We finally hit Benidorm just after 1500. Benidorm is a quaint little tourist beach town, much like Wikiki. It's packed with high rise hotels and tourist traps. Though it's off season, there are still plenty of Brits and Germans hanging about. You can tell the Brits by the fact it's only about 60 degrees F out and they aren't wearing any shirts and have sandals with socks at the beach. The town is pretty much as un Spanish as you can get. It's a place meant for Brit and German tourists and while having a European vibe, it's nothing like the rest of Spain.

The gig is at Terra Mitica, a theme park owned by Paramount. It's pretty much a European version of Six Flags. We depart the hotel via the bus to load in. We have a stop planned at the Embassy for lunch. During the trip while the promoter is trying to explain how to get to the burger joint, driver dude tubes it and we end up back on the Autovisa. The promoter starts to stress a bit about lunch. We tell him no problem, we can send the runner or get something at the park. He is relieved, but still not too pleased with the driver. We make our way to the front gate of the park. On arrival, they won't let us in. We can't tell what's going on, but it's obvious they aren't letting us in. Soon, a security guard on a scooter comes down and they have us pull the bus over. More debate in Espanol. About 20 mins pass, we're cracking jokes and spreading gallows humour. We have no idea what's going on. About then, a couple of SUVs pull up, one with another security guard, one with a guy that looks like he could be from the gig. They lead us out of the parking lot and back down the main road. We travel a couple of minutes around the back of the park to the service entrance. Seems as though the reason we weren't being let in, was because we needed to go through the service entrance. Well duh. Booth lady kept saying "can't come in" and it took two security guards and the gig prod manager to sort it out.

The gig is in a Roman themed theater that mocks an old style Roman ampitheater. Normally they do a Spartacus type show in the room so the floor under the stage is dirt. The production is pretty good, sound provided by Conzert Sound in Valencia. The owner and his wife are on hand for the event. She's quite the MILF as well. There's an H2k out front with an M2D rig, 650Ps, an H3k on stage with for once the proper implement of processing including dbx 160XTs, Drawmer DS201s and tc M2000s. It's quite a nice system, though the MA2400 for the Buttkicker II isn't quite big enough. The crew is quite good and we are under a time constraint. The band shows but we aren't ready. We've had less than an hour. FOH dude wants to start a line check before the stage is wired and have to use my outdoor voice to convince them to stop. Remember when I said we could do it in less than three hours if we had to? This was one of those times and we can only do it if the local crew is good, and these guys were good. Fillipe was my guy on stage and the patcher I later found out was the owner's kid. They were all Varsity.

About 15 mins before doors we do a rough level check and send the band to dinner after holding doors for 10 mins or so. I'm to the point where on consoles I've used before I can preset the mixes and be really close. But that's what's expected of me, that's why I'm in the seat. I had all the proper tools, it was enjoyable to mix that night. Even on the SM20 the night before, it's why I got back into mixing tours. That and I don't really know how to do anything else. I love mixing again. Sitting with a bunch of other deaf old men debating the fine points of the art that most of the punters can't hear. Hell, we probably can't even hear them but that doesn't stop us from thinking we can. I call it the "wine and cheese" factor.

The show went well, though they nearly all do. We commenced the load out, got instructions for the next days travel back to the States and met "the guy from Uriah Heep". I don't know who exactly he was, except that he was "the guy from Uriah Heep" in tow with quite the Spanish hottie. I think it was Trevor Bolder but I'm not sure. He was a nice enough chap, but I'm over the rock star thing. Most of you probably have no idea who Uriah Heep was anyway.

We returned to the Melia Benidorm, the same chain that owned the nice hotel we stayed at in Mexico City when we were last there. This one wasn't so nice, but still passable. We agreed to drop our bags and meet in the bar for an "end of tour" (if you can call three dates a tour) party. It was off season in Benidorm. Apparently that meant that the central air was turned off for the season and the data ports in the room didn't work. One thing about Europe, is that they are nuts about power conservation. Most all the large hotel chains have a key card device where the power won't turn on in the room until you insert the key card into the device. The problem was, mine didn't work. I'd already packed my Surefire into the Pelican and the room was pitch dark. I hailed my backup MiniMag from my day pack and made my way to the phone. I called down to the front desk.

"Hi, it's Dave Stevens in 1753. I don't seem to have any power in my room, even after inserting the key in the slot".

"For what time, Sir?" was the response.

"Well, uh, now. I have no power now" I answered, somewhat puzzled.

"Wake up call for when, Sir?"

You gotta be shittin' me I thought. The bloke thought I wanted a wake up call. I was a little buzzed from the post show Jack, but not impaired. "Hold on, I'm coming down". With that I headed to the front desk, slightly miffed.

When I got to the front desk, "Tony" greeted me. He was the person that I had spoken with before. I again explained the situation, talking louder and slower, as is the custom when speaking to non native English speakers. Like it helps. Tony informed me that I needed a new key. I thought that odd since I could get into the room and the power slot would work with any card though some required a magnetic strip. I went back up to the room to try it. Same thing. Now I was officially pissed off. I set back to the front desk, some 17 floors below me. Having electricity in a hotel room is a pretty basic thing. Even in Spain.

On returning to the front desk, both Tony and the night manager were helping others. In fact, it seems that both those folks had no power to their rooms and the person in front of me had no power in his room. It turns out I was one of four just in our party that had this problem. A tech was dispatched to the other rooms but they thought it best that Tony accompany me to my room to make sure I was inserting the key into the slot the proper way. I assured them I had a handle on how this electronics thing worked. After all, I kinda did this sort of thing for a living. No matter, Tony would take me to the room and try it. We got to the room and Tony found the same thing. He then tried several obtuse methods to get the key to work ending with the side of the hand to the little box. "Well, it's broken" he said as he looked over to me. No shit? I had that figured out about 20 minutes ago.

It had been nearly a half hour since the ordeal started and I was none too pleased. I let Tony and the manager know how I felt. They agreed to change rooms, but when I asked how I was going to pack in the dark and move my luggage they couldn't offer a solution. I suggested that they do what we did in America and just ditch the power saver thing. It wasn't like any of us would be alive when we finally exhausted our supply of fossil fuel. Besides, we were the US, we'll just invade another country and take their oil. Though I was being sarcastic, I think by this time they were a bit scared of me. I took my new room key but elected to join the others in the bar. They were well into the post gig celebration. I'd wasted about 40 minutes with this power thing.

The mood in the bar was festive and I soon forgot about the power debacle. We closed the bar off the lobby and proceeded to the bar on floor -1. At last call at that bar some decided to head out on the near deserted town. It was just after 0200. I elected to stay behind and comtemplated my move. With MiniMag in hand, I packed my stuff and moved to my new room on the first floor, which in America would be the second floor. In Europe they have what I think is a strange method of calling the ground floor "0", instead of "1". How can you have a "0" floor? It defies logic. But then again, we were in Europe. Now was the time I needed a wakeup. We were to depart to the airport at 0830. I picked up the phone. No matter what I dialed, even without dialing, I got a fast busy signal. Seems like ol' Tony didn't turn on my phone. I head back down to the desk to let him know I needed a wake up call. He was surprised to see me, shocked might better describe it. I explained the situation and he offered to have the phone fixed. I didn't care, as long as I got my wake up call. I'm sure he was glad to see me return to my room.

We departed the next morning for our flights back to the US. Spain was a blast. Even with a few setbacks, I truely enjoyed it. Like I say, I dig Europe. Hopefully I'll be able to spend some more time there in the coming touring season.

'Til next time...

Dave

Posted by Dave at 11:59 AM