Tracy says this should be three separate posts but I’m all in!
The train from Brussels to Dortmund is, typically, not smooth. I set out on this tour with a sort of agenda of proving that you could tour Europe as a solo musician using just public transport but I think what I ended up proving is that yes, you can do that but it will break you, your spirit, your bank account, your faith in mankind and Deutsche Bahn.
I’m adaptable. I flow with change as much as I can. I understand that things happen, delays, whatever but what absolutely triggered me was buying tickets on the Deutsche Bahn or Omio or whatever train line website I was on - and I was still able to buy tickets for trains that were not running or were canceled. The websites let you buy tickets knowing full well that the train you just bought a ticket on was a canceled train for that day. And would still let you upgrade to buy first class or an assigned seat and then when you have to get on a different train - you get kicked out of first class or what you think is your assigned seat.
And you’d just have to deal with it and figure it out.
I had the romantic notion that I was going to sit on an overnight train and type and write my book as the miles rolled by. Instead I found myself multiple times not even having a seat. Paying extra for an assigned seat means nothing when that train isn’t running and you’re forced to figure out a different way forward.
I’m going to get off the train shit in a second but if you get a chance - look at a map and see that over the course of this tour I started and ended in Amsterdam while going from:
Amsterdam Schiphol to Munster to Osnabrück to Bremen.
Bremen to Hamburg
Hamburg to Berlin
Berlin to Leipzig to Würzburg
Würzburg to Schwienfurt
Schweinfurt to Nürnberg to Vienna
Vienna to Passau to Salzburg
Salzburg to Cologne
Cologne to Liège to Brussels
Brussels to Mechelen
Mechelen to Brussels
Brussels to Aachen to Duisburg to Dortmund
Dortmund to Duisburg to Amsterdam Schiphol.
And a bunch of smaller trains whenever I had to get somewhere in a city. I went all over Vienna and the outskirts with Roman and Barbara and I realized that my opinion of Vienna is different than pretty much everywhere else because I’ve never been lost in Vienna because I’ve always been with Roman there. But I have been lost and had to figure it out everywhere else.
I’ve driven all over Europe, not going to lie, It is easier with a car. This year I tried to space things out a little bit better so I wasn’t on the run everyday and 40 shows in 40 days or whatever but it led to too much downtime where I was just spending money to exist. I also felt that I overextended my stays with friends a little too much. They were all gracious, beyond wonderful and I tried to be the best guest I could but you can feel when your existence is wearing out it’s welcome.
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Ends of tours bring about a sense of stock taking. My buddy Boris will ask me “what’s the big takeaway this year?” And it’s always slightly different. Sometimes I will think about how to carry less stuff, routing, all kinds of different things. I was talking to my mom the other night and after another train issue she asked me “Is it still worth it?” And that’s a heavy question whose answer came at a good time. If she had asked me that in the morning of that day - I would’ve answered differently than when it was asked, later that night after my show in Mechelen.
Because the truth is, 95% of this is a slog. The Music Business wants to beat you up and get you to quit every day. Every. Day. Whether it’s because your label folded, or your publishing has been sold to a fourth company and now you have to fight to get your songs back, or a local bar where you had a great show decides they only want to book cover bands because it’s easier - the list goes on and on. But then you have a show like I had at Zennegat 13, small room, no PA, just me and my guitar and it is magic. In that room we communicated in the most human of ways. We shared space and sang together. I’m not very woo woo spiritual but there were transcendent moments in that room. Singing a song and looking across the room at an older dude overcome with emotions and just crying. Someone singing along to my words because he bought my cd two years ago when I was here. The owner telling me that he’s seen tons of folks come in and play his place but none that play guitar and hold a room like me.
That’s when I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. This is my purpose. I’m supposed to travel around and tell my stories, learn new stories from the people I meet, have experiences out in the world and bring those stories back to the folks at my next show.
Success in the music business can be measured in different ways, usually monetarily and in that area I am not successful. I’m writing this from the middle seat of an airplane flying economy. That’s not the rock star life that we see in the movies but it is my rock star life. And I am successful. I am able to bring my music around the world and connect with people one on one. Person to person. How many musician/songwriters never get to do what I do? Most. Nothing to be taken for granted, it’s all gratitude.
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Last night was the last show of the tour. I had planned on continuing on to U.K and Ireland but I’m out of gas. I talked to Peter in Saltash and the weather wasn’t looking good for our outdoor backyard show and we made the decision to postpone until next year. I talked to the radio station in Derry and the other songwriter night in Belfast and made plans for next year. There is this built in sense of urgency that we must do everything now and NOW but that isn’t so. A reviewer was messaging me and apologizing for their review coming out a little later than they had planned and he said “there’s no expiration date on great art.” That let me breathe easier.
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Getting off the train in Dortmund, I crossed the street and walked right to where my hotel room was waiting. The GPS showed a different walking route but I’ve been here before, I know the shortcut. I drop off my stuff and walk to the center of town for where I know of a good dõner kebab place. I order in Deutsche and it comes out perfect. It’s not as good as Mustapha’s in Berlin but the wait is only about 2 minutes. I lean back against a wall and watch the street in the city on a working day.
There’s a line of police vans and police everywhere. I ask one of the officers “Is everything ok, something going on tonight?” “Football.” Of course. No matter where you go it’s always fucking football - either version. That will likely thin some of my crowd tonight.
Last gigs are hard because you have to bring your brain back to the moment. I’ve already been booking tomorrow’s trip and so my brain is half out the door when I start but the folks here are nice and Marco makes some frickadellas. Wohnzimmer im Piepenstock has been a regular place for me to play for the past decade. It’s a small neighborhood bar/venue. It’s a music stage. There are no tv’s to distract. Venues like this don’t really exist in the U.S. or if they do, I don’t know of them.
I heard a thing recently from a screenwriter that was pitching a show to Netflix and the script was criticized for not being “two-screen” enough. Meaning, if someone was watching this show they wouldn’t be able to watch it and be on their phone at the same time. And that was a criticism! He was told to dumb it down for people not fully paying attention to the show and being on their phone at the same time.
I don’t know where I’m going with that but I loved how in these rooms, I’m not going to lie and say folks weren’t on their phones for some of my set - I’m not so full of myself to think I can command 100% attention 100% of the time but there were whole songs, whole stories, entire commitment from performer and audience and it is/was magical.
There’s always pushback about folks being on their phones during shows and some of that is on the performer for not being engaging enough but some of it is also on the audience for not being open to that experience in front of them. It’s something we have created in the modern world, for good or bad, and the moments in life when I forget to look at my phone seem to be the best.
The Wohnzimmer show goes off great. I unplug for a couple of songs and get off the stage and sing in between the tables. It’s these moments that I love. I tell some more stories, sing some songs and end with a song that Danny Ott taught me “no expectations” by The Rolling Stones. It’s a song about appreciating where you are and how we may not pass this way again. I tell everyone, in a not so woo woo way, that tonight, in this moment, we are all here in this room. The likelihood of that ever happening again is very small and we have to enjoy it and embrace the moment.
And with that my tour is through.
I sit down by the door to catch some cool night air and a woman starts talking to me in perfect English. Her and her husband are from South Africa but live here in Dortmund. They had planned to move back to Germany for about 6 months, that was in 1997. He wants to talk U.S. politics and wants to travel around the U.S. asking people how they can possibly support Trump. “I just want to sit in an outdoor cafe and find out how they can believe his lies.” I tell him that first off, it’s going to be hard to find an outdoor cafe. He has questions about size of the states as well. He wants to drive from New York City to Texas. I think I’m able to explain that that is a long drive. The conversation is great and intense, they’ve heard of gerrymandering but don’t understand what it means. With the help of an online picture they finally understand it. “How is that legal?” “They made the laws.” It’s a good conversation. I’m happy that I actually know most of the answers to the questions but the big one remains a mystery to us both - How can someone still support Trump?
I am not an official “Goodwill Ambassador” for the U.S. but there are times when you are absolutely put on the spot and made to answer for your country. I didn’t make a big point about it at any of my shows, the fact that I am out in a foreign country performing tells them a lot about who I am politically before I even open my mouth. And your audience wants to know you, they want to connect with you and understand you. They truly want to be fans and like you and they want to know where you stand. There was a time when you could just make music and not give a whit about any of that but those days are over.
And this whole conversation happened when I finished playing a two hour show!
Marco drives me back to the train station and we talk about music, the future and what is happening. Rents are going up in town and it’s hard to survive as a venue. We had a good night but it’s still hard. We make vague plans for 2025 and I give him a hug goodbye. Unhoused folks are setting up their sleeping bags for the night outside the train station and I walk by with my hands in my pockets. The world is beautiful and humbling and the world is cruel and uncaring. It’s all things, all the time.
Tomorrow I will take at least two trains to Amsterdam before I fly home on Sunday. I will be kicked out of a mostly empty first class car along with a mother and daughter and made to stand in the packed second class section next to them for about an hour. In my stupid defiance, I stand with my feet in second class but my backpack in first class preventing the door from closing. I stand there and fume and contemplate writing a strongly worded letter to Deutsche Bahn but I know I won’t, they don’t care.
I love what I do. It is important and valuable work. But these trains are going to kill me.
xo