Ok, time I wrapped this up…

First, I’ve got pictures from the tour posted. These are mostly walkin’ around pictures, in fact, I don’t think I have any of us performing in the set.

We got back to Antwerp for the Wonderfestival, zooming back through Germany, playing Berlin would have been nice but fell through, and we couldn’t do the show with Hot Hot Heat due to no backline. Wonderfest is supposed to be big, “Woodstock…organized in three days,” according to the discombobulated but trying-oh-so-hard stage manager. Karen and Clare, from England, have arrived, eager to assist us with management and sound, respectively. A very welcome addition to the crew, and cool people as well. Wonderfest is big, but didn’t get the turnout they wanted, even though it is the hippest festival hands down. I’m excited because I recognize “my people” here…nothing like cultural identity. A big polo fields kind of a place, three stages , food and rock paraphernalia vendors abounding. They round us up some equipment, for some reason we don’t have backline, so I borrow the drummers kit that played in the band before us, (The Newborn Neurotics?) , we eat sandwiches and get ready. The show was one of the worst technically I think, for me at least having multiple probs with the drums and very iffy stage sound. Whatever. The crowd is drunken and berserk. Mosh pits form, half-assed crowd surfing is attempted. It turns out we are the headlining act since Girls Against Boys , Millionaire , and Viva La Fete, bailed on this festival. Millionaire explains on their website why they decided not to play. Oops. Sucks for the fans…but Magnapop did our best to entertain, and plenty of people had a good time, so I don’t think it was a total loss.

Later Ruthie, Linda and I did a TV interview…don’t know where it surfaced. Then began the beer drinking. Inspired by the party, I decided to join it. When in Belgium… It was a warm night under the stars and the beer was flowing. I hung out and talked to many friendly people for a while, while the band all wussed out and went back to the hotel. I stayed for the “after party,” which consisted of a DJ and dancing on the ground in front of the third stage. Much is hazy from this point on. I discovered it was difficult to dance in techno-pogo style, inebriated on the uneven surface of the Earth. Those close to me were perhaps all too aware of my struggle. I had no problem drinking more beers though. With no way to eventually get home, I had drunkenly planned the worst case scenario which was simply to get a cab and hand them the address of my hotel which I repeatedly made sure I still had in my pocket. Fortunately I met Kristoff, one of the two comedic announcers for the festival, and he kindly offered to get me back safe. From the festival we went to a really cool club in Antwerp that had lots of rooms and a large outdoor patio (I think). I remember the bathrooms were huge. Kristoff got me back to the hotel, just as the Belgian beer had defeated me once again, and I was ready to fall down in a ditch to sleep it off.

Saturday we had a couple of hours to drive to Duiven. I was starving and missed breakfast, par for the course. Clare gave me a hard boiled egg in the car, but it exploded with yolk when I tried to shell it. We finally stopped at a gas station with a cafeteria (seems the norm in these parts) where I get breakfast spaghetti and a sandwich and OJ. Arriving in Duiven, the place is a small farm in a small town, with a recently converted silo with stage and bar and DJ pulpit. I went to sleep for an hour in the house where we were staying, but only slept for minutes. People were rushing around making food and there were goats, geese, dogs, a horse, you name it. It was the last year for this festival that had been going on for many years. It was called “Krop Staal” or something. The farm is getting torn down to build an old folks home. Fair enough, I guess. Lots was said in Flemish that I didn’t understand about it. Good people, good times. We ate well, played under that stars, drank beer by a fire until the wee hours. Lots of dancing people. Some local Insane Clown Posse hanging around kids looking bored. A big drunk dude hilariously tries on a women’s small T, because we don’t have XXXL. Later I think he causes a ruckus and gets kicked out, after taking a punch or two from our host. Good times.

That’s all I got.

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