munich - octobernest (sept 29th)

to Munich, then, pants flapping immediately post-show in Brussels and the inevitable breakdown (van, and to a lesser degree, personally) ...



Munich is German but German, so German, in fact, that italics, bold, underlining and screaming the word over and over again simply don't do justice to the sheer meaningacity* of the word. The crowd, aside from a couple of pocket psychos down the front, are adequate and we play a decent show despite sound problems and the age-old Falkous curse - too much fucking bread.

Here's 'chin music' as filmed from the merch desk by the one and only Paul Resende. Notice how I attack the mic like a hungry shark*1...



After the show, we drove, and drove, and drove. To Croatia, of all fucking places.



* I went there. Alone.
*1 A hungry shark with an appalling monitor mix.

cologne - catch a cawling star (sept 22)

So to Germany, home of Germans, ample vegetarian options (nb. no sausage) and now the most entertaining (if far from technically perfect) football league in world. On a personal note I shall also remember it as the place where I learned to use IMovie.

Badly.

Yes. Cologne. Koln. Big K. However you spell it (and wherever you're from, even if that place uses a completely different character set) it's a city with a fuck-load of churches and the bells to match.

Oh, the bells.*

So, we arrived late on our day 'off'*1 and I went for a run - the wrong way. So much for the sights - that's a river and them's barges. Bah. Twelve kilometres of no cathedrals and calf-burning pain.

The next morning, however, I ran in the correct direction and who do I spot amongst the teaming mass of the cod-religious, the photograph(iers)? Why, a young man of inquisitive mind and stout heart. A beat-maker. A lover of the cross.



We climbed the steps (2 euro 50) and looked out across the land...



Noting, upon the way, faith in practice -




By 4pm and now in a pleasured halfling agony, we make it to the venue. This is something that happened*2 ...



What a guy(s). What a show. Christoph, scourge of sounddesks (and now spotting quite a fetching hairdo since our last encounter, a year or so ago) aced it. Germans, as they do, smoked and cheered. Afterwards, everybody smoked (except for me). EVERYBODY smokes here, even babies. Smoke for breakfast, lunch and tea.

Smoke snack.

Smoke-a-trition.

I love playing rock shows.

falco


*Please, PLEASE stop ringing the bells at any available opportunity. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.
*1 Read as day 'in''- the van. The shitting, pissing van.
*2 Note that not much happened.