glasgow – may 18
Tonight’s hotel has a ‘barton fink’ feel. What gives? I get the suicide room. It’s on the 4th floor. they are renovating that floor. Every room is stripped down to the ancient floor boards. So many things that have never gotten cleaned. I walk down a truly endless hall way.
All the rooms doors are open down that walk and show off the old floor boards and filth and scrapings of chipped lead paint and crumble. When I get to my room, its down a little cul-de-sac hall. The room has humungous windows with that kind of curvy panes you can’t see through. Of course the room is dark except for the blur blare of the outside light, but every time it begs you to have a peak, them visionless windows bite your eyes.
I turn on the tv instead to look outside. Its an old episode of ‘the big valley’. The rich rancher brothers are being held in a prison by a warden who send his men out to arrest people for no reason. The beautiful sister back home on the ranch feigns concern. Then the scene is back to the prison where one of the brothers is being strung up for a whipping.
I got to change rooms.
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My new room is even further away. About 2 miles from the elevator. But it’s the 3rd floor, no renovations, and is huge. The bathroom is about the size of a ballroom. It looks out over the magnificent rooftops of Glasgow and their stunning facades in corrosive brilliance.
Lucky for us, the club is in walking distance, which is always good luck. But the innards were also voluminous.
It shrunk us for a bit. The folks there seemed keen on us.
Maybe it’s just their normal overall welcome way, but it felt like the place was happy for us to come to play.
The show that night had that singular northern spirit. You begin to feel it the more north you go from London. When you get to Scotland, there is something big about it. Folks are tough, but with a severe willingness to partake in merriment. The show was a spirited one. Lots of fun on stage. We played everything we knew tonight. Even “shiver” and “astonished” without a piano. And we went back to the original medley encore, except with “ballad of the tucson 2” thrown in first, and a dollop of “underground train” prior to that. Worked up a righteous sweat. Soaked.
When it was all over, the band and choir was ecstatic from the set still. I slipped off to have a drink with some folks in the quiet bar there in the club. Some fine crack there. Or however you spell it. Met up with the 2 ians who came all the way to Tucson last September for the 20th year anniversary. This time with their wives, who were also dancing up front near the end, which always helps. And met up with the edmonton fellow who had me play at his little club years ago. He said he will try to get me over for the summer maybe at his new club. And then a woman there with enough charm to get me to commit to some benefit shows here that would take me to other even more northern regions of the country at some point later. But no Isobel Campbell. The omens were leading up to what I thought was going to be a run in with her here, but nope. The end.
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