(posted a few weeks later)
Way back in the day, I met Kurt Bloch and and Scott McCaughey. Kurt engineered records for my old band Sicko, and Scott distributed records from my record label, Top Drawer Records, as he was working for Pop Llama Products at the time, another Seattle label that was much much better than mine. Both of these guys played in Seattle bands that also played with Sicko, most notably the Fastbacks (Kurt) and the Young Fresh Fellows (Kurt and Scott). Like many Seattle bands at the time, the YFF were strangely successful in Spain. Other Northwest bands has this same experience, the Model Rockets, Bum, the Fastbacks, and even Sicko all did well there. I’ve heard lots of theories as to why, but who really knows. It’s not like we did well in France, Germany or England. Just Spain. Whatever.
In any case the YFF are indisputably a legendary Seattle band and have been a big part of Seattle music since they started in 1981. Everybody back in Seattle knows this, but a lot of people over here in the UK would probably think that grunge and Nirvana and Alice in Chains or whatever are what Seattle music is all about, and I suppose it’s true to a degree, but way before any of those bands were playing, the YFF were playing all over Seattle, and really setting the tone for what many of us think of as the real Seattle music… punk and garage infused pop. The way I see it, they were part of the chain that linked bands like the Sonics to bands like the Model Rockets, or Flop, or The Presidents of the USA and even to little tiny unimportant bands like mine. So, these guys are a part of Seattle history and a part of my history, and they’re special to me.
28 years later, they still make records and even do the occasional tour, and I was fortunate enough to spend the last few days following them around when they toured Spain. The tour was set up by Francisco from Munster records, which is a label based in Madrid. Munster was usually the driving force behind Seattle bands’ tours to Spain, and would typically release import versions of their US releases. Francisco is a really nice guy who has pretty much dedicated his life to music and records, and while most of us have gone on to have normal jobs and live the straight life, he’s stuck by the rock and roll and carved himself a little niche. I have to say that I’m impressed by anybody who can keep a record label going in the 21st century, especially an independent one. The tour actually went all over Spain, but I only came down for the last 3 dates: Valencia, Murcia, and Madrid.
Night 1: Valencia Solo
On Wednesday, I stayed home from work in the morning, just calling into a few conference calls, so I could spend more time with Reba and Isa before I left. By noon I was rushing around trying to find all of my stuff for the trip, and trying to figure out the best way to get to Gatwick airport in time to fly out. Kissing the girls goodbye, I headed off to the tube with my WSU Cougars hat, hoodie, backpack, and some new songs to listen to that had just come in from my Rough Trade Records subscription. I like to travel as light as possible, it makes me feel good to know I can get on without a ton of crap to lug around. This got me into trouble on my trip to Germany with Juergen, as I didn’t have the correct Euro going out clothes, and the guys had to sneak me into clubs. Of course when you’re going to see the YFF, everybody dresses in jeans and t-shirts, and it’s very casual. So, I knew I could just get by with minimal stuff. I caught the tube to Victoria station, and then the train to Gatwick, got hassled by security for not having my toothpaste in a separate plastic bag, and made it to the plane with plenty of time. I think that I get picked on a lot more when I travel without Reba. Maybe this is because they think a single guy is more likely to be a drug smuggler or a hijacker or terrorist or whatever. The funny thing is that I am soooo boring, that there is really nothing to find out about me, and the cops can search every square inch of my life with a microscope and all they will find out is that I am a comic book geek who buys too much shitty music and works in IT at a bank. Drinking beer and talking about politics is about as wild as I get. There really is nothing to see here, ladies and gentlemen.
I spent the first night in Valencia at a hotel across the street from the new Museo de Sciencias, pictured below. The crazy thing isn’t so much that these buildings look like outerspace whale skeleton spaceships that have stopped for a quick bath on earth, but that they are in a place that was as run down as Valencia was 15 years ago.
The city has really done a complete 180 since I was here in the mid 90s. It’s had all sorts of new construction, old stuff has been torn down, and it’s been heavily modernized, which is probably a good thing in certain Spanish cities. I love the old fashioned bits of Spain, but honestly some of it can be pretty run down. The hotel was very nice, and after a walk in the neighborhood, I called Reba for some travel advice. Whenever I go on a trip by myself, I have no idea where to go, and never really plan anything. So, I call Reba, she gets on her computer, and then tells me where the cool spots to go are. In this case, she found an old restaurant down on the waterfront which Ernest Hemingway wrote about in one of his books, and so there I went. The food was good, the beer was cold, and I had several Aguardientes after. I went back to the hotel, crashed out, and woke up late the next day.
Night 2: Valencia Con Los Dudes
I had a fairly chill day by myself, took a couple of conference calls from work, and went down to the old part of Valencia to walk around in the afternoon. After a good deal of sitting in the main square (which Reba and I had visited back in the day) and then walking around town looking for a meaty restaurant, I found Jamon Jamon, where I had a nice stack of morcilla and entrecote with some very cold Spanish beers. Late that afternoon, I met Francisco, Cristophe, and Lisa. Francisco is the aforementioned Spanish record label boss, Cristophe is a big Scott McCaughey fan, and Lisa is actually the owner/operator of Frontier Records, which is the label that put out Suicidal Tendencies back in the early 80s. She got extra cool points from me for that: my friend Tom and I used to dance around his basement doing air guitar to that band when we were 14. Thanks for the rock Lisa! After meeting up, we went to have dinner with the Fellows, which was oddly at a pizza joint. Apparently the band had been eating Spanish food nonstop since arriving a week prior and were ready for a change of pace. I was down for some tapas, but when you’re travelling in a group you have to be flexible. At the restaurant I found a little slice of my past having pizza and beer: Kurt, Scott, Tad, and Jim. I hadn’t seen Kurt in several years, and Scott in longer than that. It had been even longer for Jim. In fact, I didn’t recognize Tad, probably because I hadn’t seen him in 8 years, although to be fair he is doing miles better than me in the preservation department. I was a bit embarrassed about that. The show was in a small club across the street with only about 100 people in it. This gave me the opportunity to stand right up front, and this led to my favorite YFF Spain tour 2009 moment. By way of explanation, my ex-ex-ex-ex girlfriend Christy had a semi rare CD with a white label and a black photocopy of Fonzie on it. It had a single (as I remember) song: “do the the Fonzie”, which is a sarcastic song about the hero of the 1970’s TV show “Happy Days”. In the early 1990’s, the YFF were playing just about every show one could imagine: street fairs, outdoor concerts, bars, all ages clubs, bar mitzvahs, you name it. During this time, my friends and I would go to see the YFF probably twice a month (4 times a month in the summer) and while enjoying their sets, would make a point of loudly demanding to hear “do the Fonzie”. This never ever met with any success. Fast forward almost 20 years, and I am standing in a dive club in Valencia listening to the Fellows, standing up front, and feeling quite cool because they all remembered me. At a lull in the show, Scott asked if the audience had any requests, and I instinctively yelled out, “ do the Fonzie”! To my surprise, Scott said something like “really? that one? (shrug) ok… whatever” and they played it!!! I screamed with delight. Now if I can just go sky diving and see Chichen Itza, my life will be complete. This night ended with beers and wine and bullshitting with the opening band back in the hotel.
The next day, the band left early, and the Francisco, Lisa, Christophe, Ean crew headed for some classic Paella Valenciano. Francisco had set up a reservation with an out of the way place that seemed pretty much locals only. This food kicked ASS. We drove up to Murcia that afternoon.
Night 3: Murcia
This seemed like a cool town, very Spanish and not very exposed to the outside world. I have two distinct memories of this night:
1. Francisco kept remarking on how all the Murcians were tall, weird looking, and had huge heads. To be honest, they looked like Spanish people to me, but what do I know?
2. After dinner with the band and everyone else, I felt ill, and left the table early to head back to my hotel room. I actually puked on the street on the way home! I spent the next two hours prior to the show puking in my hotel room, and the next 6 hours at the show puking in the scuzzy rock club bathroom… EVERY 20 MINUTES. This sucked. I watched a bit of the Fellows’ show, and split.
The next day I felt fine. Food poisoning?
Night 4: Madrid
What memories this town holds for me. I’ve been here a probably a dozen times, lived here with a Spanish family when I was 14, played here in my band in my mid 20’s, and have made it to the bullfights at Las Ventas 4 years out of the last 5. I really love this place. The real trip was that Francisco put me in the same hotel (I’m almost positive) that Sicko stayed in back in 1996. The place was way cleaned up, and had non communal bathrooms, but I swear it was the same joint, just off the Puerto del Sol. After a nap, I went over to the Fellows’ hotel and had a few pregame beers with the various rock and roll tour folks. My buddy Angel was planning on meeting me near the show, and when he called to say he was waiting for me at one of the nearby cafes, I split the group and went to find him. The Puerto del Sol is a sort of central square in Madrid that has a number of pedestrian only streets spreading out away from it. One of these was where the YFF were staying, and this same street was LOADED with hookers. As the night went on, more and more sketchy looking chicks were hanging out staring down any guy that walked down the street. At one point I was on my phone, calling Angel and leaving him a voicemail when a hooker came up to me, grabbed me and said something about “oye guapo”. I was mid voice mail recording and she startled me, so I yelled “no me joda”! Which is sort of like don’t fuck with me, and she got the message. Just after that I saw Angel sitting at a cafe table with some buddies, and the night really began. A ton of Angel’s pals showed up and after a nonstop round of greetings, we all decided to head to the show, which was held at a place predictably called, “el sol”. This happens to be the same club that my band played at in 1996, so it was all the more special to me. The Fellows delivered the rock, I did the pogo, beers were drunk, and by the time I got back to the hotel, it was quite late. A really good night to cap off a really good vacation.
The Last Day
The next day I was awoken by a phone call from the the front desk of the hotel telling me that I had 15 minutes to leave. A quick shower and pack-up later, I was out the door and on my way to meet Angel and his brother Enrique. I spent the afternoon with Angel and his wife Marta and their two girls Claudia and Ines, and Enrique and his son Enrique junior. Enrique Jr, also called El Quique Tucho, is a spunky little guy and called me a “rat man of the street” or something like that. He got in trouble with dad, and I laughed my ass off. We all went to the park to let the kids play, then to a restaurant for lunch where we talked to some old Spanish gents, and then to Enrique’s where we had coffee and cognacs. Enrique has a really good vintage book collection, as well as a very cool collection of old jazz and blues music. I made a point of snagging some of his mp3s.
What a great trip! Seattle rock and roll (which I miss), Seattle people and my Madrid people (whom I love) and a few days in Espana. One could not ask for more.
