BROTHER DEGE UNVEILS NEW VIDEO FOR "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG" - THE SONG FEATURED IN TARANTINO'S "DJANGO UNCHAINED"!

 

BROTHER DEGE PREMIERES NEW VIDEO FOR HIS TRACK "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG" - THE SONG QUENTIN TARANTINO HAND-PICKED FOR HIS NEW FILM "DJANGO UNCHAINED"

 

CLICK ON THE IMAGE ABOVE TO WATCH BROTHER DEGE'S "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG"

Brother Dege ("deej") (aka Dege Legg) is one of the best-kept secrets in the Deep South. A musician, writer and Southern enigma, Dege is the haunted face of 21st century Delta blues. Like the possessed offspring of Faulkner and Son House, he plays slide guitar in the age-old tradition of the blues greats, yet manages to breathe new life into this revered Delta idiom.

The reclusive Louisiana Cajun's song "Too Old To Die Young" was recently selected by Quentin Tarantino to appear in the soundtrack of his new film Django Unchained, which just opened in theaters on Christmas day.

Tarantino was recently interviewed on SiriusXM Radio’s show Little Steven’s Underground Garage last week where he discussed all of the music track-by-track from Django Unchained. Here’s what he had to say about Brother Dege’s song “Too Old To Die Young”…“I was listening to the radio and this song (“Too Old to Die Young”) came on. And I said, ‘wow… that’s pretty damn good.’ I could see a cool ass action scene going to this. I thought it could be really, really groovy. So I had my music supervisor get me the CD. And frankly, every track on the Brother Dege CD could have been in the movie. It works and has a badass score sound to it. Almost every song [on the album] could be a theme song. It’s like a greatest hits album. But this song 'Too Old to Die Young,' it’s pretty damn badass. And it’s used in the movie in a pretty damn badass way, I’ve got to say.”

Click here to listen to the audio interview of Tarantino discussing Brother Dege and his music.

The soundtrack for Django Unchained is out now.

 

"DJANGO UNCHAINED" SOUNDTRACK LISTING:

1. Winged
2. Django (Main Theme) - Luis Bacalov, Rocky Roberts
3. The Braying Mule - Ennio Morricone
4. In That Case, Django, After You...
5. Lo Chiamavano King (His Name Is King) - Luis Bacalov, Edda Dell'orso
6. Freedom - Anthony Hamilton & Elayna Boynton
7. Five-Thousand-Dollar Nigga's And Gummy Mouth Bitches
8. La Corsa (2nd Version) - Luis Bacalov
9. Sneaky Schultz and the Demise of Sharp
10. I Got a Name - Jim Croce
11. I Giorni Dell'ira - Riz Ortolani
12. 100 Black Coffins - Rick Ross
13. Nicaragua - Jerry Goldsmith featuring Pat Metheny
14. Hildi's Hot Box
15. Sister Sara's Theme - Ennio Morricone
16. Ancora Qui - Ennio Morricone and Elsa
17. Unchained (The Payback/Untouchable) - James Brown and 2Pac
18. Who Did That To You? - John Legend
19. Too Old to Die Young - Brother Dege
20. Stephen The Poker Player
21. Un Monumento - Ennio Morricone
22. Six Shots Two Guns
23. Trinity (Titoli) - Annibale E i Cantori Moderni

“Too Old To Die Young” is from Brother Dege’s critically acclaimed album Folk Songs of the American Longhair, which in 10 smoking, original tracks, recharges the cannon of the Delta Blues for the next century. Recorded in a shed in southern Louisiana, the album bursts with barn-burning slide and Dobro drenched tunes that reel, rip and scream like a master class in backwoods songwriting, while taking epic swings into the ambient darkness with Paris, Texas-like passages into the great unknown. It’s haunted, it’s harrowing, and it rocks.

Avoiding traditional DIY, indie career moves and following his own quirky southern sensibilities, Dege is known for playing guerilla shows in gigs in the swamps, open fields, low rent motel rooms and even public bathrooms. In addition, he has supported himself at various times by driving a cab, working in auto shops and, more recently, homeless shelters.

Brother Dege is also putting the finishing touches on his second album How to Kill a Horse (due early in 2013) which promises to push the slide and the traditions of the Delta blues far into the darkness of the millennium.  

 

HERE'S WHAT PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT BROTHER DEGE:

 

“Fans of slide guitar, Southern gothic, or plain old rock & roll attitude need to run, not walk, and check out Brother Dege ASAP. Brother Dege is a case study in how one guy with a steel guitar and minimal accompaniment can out-rock a roomful of electric bombast, given the right songs, the right skills, and the right voice. Brother Dege has‘em all.” – POPMATTERS

“[Four Stars] In lesser hands all this might easily sound contrived, but instead it’s genuinely powerful and compelling stuff. 'The Girl Who Wept Stones' and 'Dead & Gone' might have been ripped from the Son House songbook, though the seven-minute epic 'House of the Dying Sun' is the real keeper.” – UNCUT

“Both ancient and modern, like an indie rock cover of something Lomax may have recorded a hundred years ago.” – BLOGCRITICS

“Brother Dege brings the ghosts of kudzu-covered swamp rats to life in your speakers.  Find the darkest spot in your backyard, light some candles and turn it up.” – THE BIG TAKEOVER

“Those willing to step into the Brother Dege abyss will likely reap its rewards.” – OFFBEAT MAGAZINE

 

FOR MORE INFO ON BROTHER DEGE:

http://degelegg.com

http://degeleggnews.blogspot.com

FOR MORE INFO ON THE "DJANGO UNCHAINED" SOUNDTRACK:

http://www.unchainedsoundtrack.com/

QUENTIN TARANTINO HAND-PICKS BROTHER DEGE'S SONG "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG" FOR HIS NEW FILM "DJANGO UNCHAINED"

 

BROTHER DEGE'S SONG "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG" HAND-CHOSEN BY QUENTIN TARANTINO FOR THE SOUNDTRACK OF HIS NEW FILM "DJANGO UNCHAINED" (OUT CHRISTMAS DAY)

 

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO BROTHER DEGE'S "TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG"

Brother Dege ("deej") (aka Dege Legg) is one of the best-kept secrets in the Deep South. A musician, writer and Southern enigma, Dege is the haunted face of 21st century Delta blues. Like the possessed offspring of Faulkner and Son House, he plays slide guitar in the age-old tradition of the blues greats, yet manages to breathe new life into this revered Delta idiom.

Well, make that… was one of the best-kepts secrets… as the reclusive Louisiana Cajun's song "Too Old To Die Young" was personally selected by Quentin Tarantino to appear in the soundtrack of his new film Django Unchained, starring Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson.

Tarantino describes his method of utilizing music (old and new) into the soundtrack of Django Unchained [from the director's press release]: "I want to thank all the artists who contributed original songs (a first for me) to the picture. Most of these contributions came out of the artists' own inspiration and their illustration of the film's soul is invaluable. In addition to the new original songs I am also using a lot of older recordings on the soundtrack - many of which came from my personal vinyl collection. Instead of having the record companies give me new digitally cleaned up versions of these recordings from the '60s and '70s, I wanted to use the vinyl I've been listening to for years - complete with all the pops and cracks. I even kept the sound of the needle being put down on the record. Basically because I wanted people's experience to be the same as mine when they hear this soundtrack for the first time."

The soundtrack for Django Unchained will be released on December 18th before the movie opens on Christmas Day.

 

"DJANGO UNCHAINED" SOUNDTRACK LISTING:

1. Winged
2. Django (Main Theme) - Luis Bacalov, Rocky Roberts
3. The Braying Mule - Ennio Morricone
4. In That Case, Django, After You...
5. Lo Chiamavano King (His Name Is King) - Luis Bacalov, Edda Dell'orso
6. Freedom - Anthony Hamilton & Elayna Boynton
7. Five-Thousand-Dollar Nigga's And Gummy Mouth Bitches
8. La Corsa (2nd Version) - Luis Bacalov
9. Sneaky Schultz and the Demise of Sharp
10. I Got a Name - Jim Croce
11. I Giorni Dell'ira - Riz Ortolani
12. 100 Black Coffins - Rick Ross
13. Nicaragua - Jerry Goldsmith featuring Pat Metheny
14. Hildi's Hot Box
15. Sister Sara's Theme - Ennio Morricone
16. Ancora Qui - Ennio Morricone and Elsa
17. Unchained (The Payback/Untouchable) - James Brown and 2Pac
18. Who Did That To You? - John Legend
19. Too Old to Die Young - Brother Dege
20. Stephen The Poker Player
21. Un Monumento - Ennio Morricone
22. Six Shots Two Guns
23. Trinity (Titoli) - Annibale E i Cantori Moderni

“Too Old To Die Young” is from Brother Dege’s critically acclaimed album Folk Songs of the American Longhair, which in 10 smoking, original tracks, recharges the cannon of the Delta Blues for the next century. Recorded in a shed in southern Louisiana, the album bursts with barn-burning slide and Dobro drenched tunes that reel, rip and scream like a master class in backwoods songwriting, while taking epic swings into the ambient darkness with Paris, Texas-like passages into the great unknown. It’s haunted, it’s harrowing, and it rocks.

Avoiding traditional DIY, indie career moves and following his own quirky southern sensibilities, Dege is known for playing guerilla shows in gigs in the swamps, open fields, low rent motel rooms and even public bathrooms. In addition, he has supported himself at various times by driving a cab, working in auto shops and, more recently, homeless shelters.

Brother Dege is also putting the finishing touches on his second album How to Kill a Horse (due early in 2013) which promises to push the slide and the traditions of the Delta blues far into the darkness of the millennium.  

 

HERE'S WHAT PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT BROTHER DEGE:

 

“Fans of slide guitar, Southern gothic, or plain old rock & roll attitude need to run, not walk, and check out Brother Dege ASAP. Brother Dege is a case study in how one guy with a steel guitar and minimal accompaniment can out-rock a roomful of electric bombast, given the right songs, the right skills, and the right voice. Brother Dege has‘em all.” – POPMATTERS

“[Four Stars] In lesser hands all this might easily sound contrived, but instead it’s genuinely powerful and compelling stuff. 'The Girl Who Wept Stones' and 'Dead & Gone' might have been ripped from the Son House songbook, though the seven-minute epic 'House of the Dying Sun' is the real keeper.” – UNCUT

“Both ancient and modern, like an indie rock cover of something Lomax may have recorded a hundred years ago.” – BLOGCRITICS

“Brother Dege brings the ghosts of kudzu-covered swamp rats to life in your speakers.  Find the darkest spot in your backyard, light some candles and turn it up.” – THE BIG TAKEOVER

“Those willing to step into the Brother Dege abyss will likely reap its rewards.” – OFFBEAT MAGAZINE

 

FOR MORE INFO ON BROTHER DEGE:
http://degeleggnews.blogspot.com

FOR MORE INFO ON THE "DJANGO UNCHAINED" SOUNDTRACK:

http://www.unchainedsoundtrack.com/

BROTHER DEGE FEATURED ON TONIGHT'S SEASON PREMIERE OF DISCOVERY CHANNEL'S "AFTER THE CATCH"!

BROTHER DEGE'S SONG "HARD ROW TO HOE" FEATURED AS THE THEME SONG FOR DISCOVERY CHANNEL'S "AFTER THE CATCH"

"AFTER THE CATCH" SEASON PREMIERE TONIGHT AT 10PM (EST)!

AFTER THE CATCH Returns – The new season of Discovery Channel's After the Catch (Deadliest Catch mini-series) hits the high seas Tuesday, June 19 at 10PM EST, following the regular airing of The Deadliest Catch. Once again, Brother Dege Legg's "Hard Row to Hoe” is featured as the show's theme song. This is the third year running that the song has been featured as the theme, so give Discovery Channel, Silent Crow Productions, The Deadliest Catch, and Mike Rowe some big, southern "hell ya's" for going with the rawest sound in the underground via Dege Legg's highly addictive and thoroughly mind-blowing 21st century Delta Blues.

After the Catch is the ultimate after-show for the ultimate show. Go behind the scenes with the captains and crews of Discovery’s Emmy (R) award-winning DEADLIEST CATCH with an all new season of AFTER THE CATCH premiering Tuesday, June 19 at 10PM EST. AFTER THE CATCH will air each week after the premiere of DEADLIEST CATCH – taking a deeper look at one of the most dangerous jobs in the world and the men who do it. This year, America’s favorite crab fishermen say Rocky Mountain hi to one another, swapping tales of the Bering Sea and dropping anchor in beautiful Breckenridge, Colorado. Mike Rowe (host of Dirty Jobs and narrator of DEADLIEST CATCH) and the guys huddle at Breckenridge’s famous watering hole – The Whale’s Tail – for best bull session on television. Don’t miss the fireworks.

“Hard Row to Hoe” is the opening track from Brother Dege’s critically acclaimed album Folk Songs of the American Longhair, which in 10 smoking, original tracks, recharges the cannon of the Delta Blues for the next 100 years. Recorded in a shed in southern Louisiana, the album bursts with barn burning slide and Dobro drenched tunes that reel, rip, and scream like a master class in backwoods songwriting, while taking epic swings into the ambient darkness with Paris, Texas-like passages into the great unknown. It’s haunted, it’s harrowing, and it rocks.

Folk Songs of the American Longhair is available on iTunes, Amazon, CD Baby, Emusic and other vendors.

Brother Dege is currently mixing his second album How to Kill a Horse with Tony Daigle and Primo, which promises to push the slide and the traditions of the Delta blues far into the darkness of the millennium.

CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW TO WATCH BROTHER DEGE PERFORM THE THEME SONG FOR DISCOVERY CHANNEL'S AFTER THE CATCH "HARD ROW TO HOE"

 

HERE'S WHAT PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT BROTHER DEGE:

“[Four Stars] In lesser hands all this might easily sound contrived, but instead it’s genuinely powerful and compelling stuff. 'The Girl Who Wept Stones' and 'Dead & Gone' might have been ripped from the Son House songbook, though the seven-minute epic 'House of the Dying Sun' is the real keeper.” – UNCUT

“Both ancient and modern, like an indie rock cover of something Lomax may have recorded a hundred years ago.” – BLOGCRITICS

“Fans of slide guitar, Southern gothic, or plain old rock & roll attitude need to run, not walk, and check out Brother Dege ASAP. Brother Dege is a case study in how one guy with a steel guitar and minimal accompaniment can out-rock a roomful of electric bombast, given the right songs, the right skills, and the right voice. Brother Dege has‘em all.” – POPMATTERS

“Brother Dege brings the ghosts of kudzu-covered swamp rats to life in your speakers.  Find the darkest spot in your backyard, light some candles and turn it up.” – THE BIG TAKEOVER

“Those willing to step into the Brother Dege abyss will likely reap its rewards.” – OFFBEAT MAGAZINE 

More on Dege

If you like what I’m doing, Like ---Bman’s Blues Report--- Facebook Page! I’m looking for great talent and trying to grow the audience for your favorites band! -  ”LIKE”

ROADLOG: EUROPE 2011 - PART II - Brother Dege

ROADLOG: EUROPE 2011 - PART II

THE DUTCH & SPRINKLES

11.8.11

Note.

The Dutch love peanut butter.

Theo claims they invented it.
I need to do some research

To see if this is true.
That put it on a lot of stuff.
Even more than they love

Peanut butter,

They love sprinkles.

Little chocolate sprinkles

That you put on cupcakes.

It’s really kind of cute.

When a person from Holland

Asks if you would like

Some “sprinkles,”

You cannot help but smile.

It’s a major part of their food thing.

Upon further research

I discover a Dutchman

Invented chocolate sprinkles.

His name is Gerard de Vries.

Look him up.
The Dutch put sprinkles

On everything.

It’s like everyone is a kid

And wants sprinkles.

Even the way the Dutch

Say the word sprinkles

Is endearing.

They get a contented gleam

In their eyes

And the word rolls

Off their tongue

Like little Christmas bells.

Jingling.

**
Speaking of Christmas.
The Dutch also invented Santa Claus.
Except their Santa Claus
Looks like a hairy version of the Pope.
And his "slave elves" are black.
No bullshit.

BJORN’S HOUSE

11.8.11

Bjorn picks me up.

We roll to his house

Which is near the German border.
I watch the scenery unspool.

The Netherlands.

Autumnal beiges

And the wheat flap.
And the straw barley yapping by

Off the flat track of the land

Spinning off into the distance.
Farmhouses.

Barns.

Windmills.
Canals.

I think of it all
Along with

The blood of revolutions

Plagues and executions

Cradled in the ancient dirt

Of Europe.
What a place.




**

Bjorn and I arrive at his house.

Meet his wife and daughter.

Nice family.
Eat a good meal

Composed of rice, sausage

And peanut butter.

GIG: CULTUURHUIS, HEERLEN, HOLLAND

11.8.11
Gig is at a city arts center.

Community funded.
Nice place. Good sound.

Before gigs,

I try to be quiet and read.

And not talk.

Just to save my voice.

Still dealing with the snot

And scratchy voice.
But for me,
That is near impossible.
I like to talk too much
And vibe with people.
I can't shut up

And just be quiet.

I find a bathroom

On the other side of the building.

I hide out in it

For awhile,

Sitting on the floor

Reading.

Then I play.

Gig. Good.

Attentive artsy crowd.

Finish up.
Load out.

Roll back to Bjorn’s

Where I sleep on a cot

In the computer room.
It’s actually really comfy.

 

BELGIUM

11.9.11

WEDNEDAY
I’m playing at a biker bar in Belgium.
Bjorn the Road Manager
Is my minder for this leg of the tour.
Venue is loud and rowdy.
Lot of chatter.

I take note that
The spacey, slide-scape jams

Might not go over too well here.

The attention span is too short

And the focus is on partying.
Fuck it.
I plug in my gear.

The step-down transformer, once again,

Blows the breaker on the venue.

They flip the lights back on
And find a better outlet

To plug it into,

Which usually solves the problem.
I crank into the set.
About 45 min in,

My stomp box breaks.

It is pretty much just a piece of wood

With a pick-up in it.

When you stomp on it,

It sort of sounds like a kick drum.
Nonetheless,

The thing breaks.
Bjorn unplugs it while

I am still playing

And goes to work on it

At the soundboard with

The soundman and another guy.
I segue into

…drumroll…
Space jam, slide-scape.

Fuck it,
I stretch that thing out

For 10-15 mins

While

In the back of the club

I can see my stompbox

Being operated on
Under a flashlight
By Bjorn and the other guys.
I take a 20 min break.

Check in with Bjorn.

They’re in the middle

Of what looks like

Open heart surgery

On my stompbox.

Glue gun.

Solder.
Duct tape.
Miraculously, Bjorn resuscitates it.
It’s alive, again.
Fucking A.

Here’s to you, Bjorn.


    Open-heart surgery on the Stompbox.

      Bjorn Maessen, leg breaker, P/T road manager.

Bjorn is a road warrior.
Over the past 10 yrs,

He’s been a roadie, stagehand,

And road manager

For hundreds of European

And American band tours.

Punk, metal, rock, roots, folk,

Blues, ska.
He’s done them all.

We met six yrs ago.

He was the European road manager

For that CC Adcock tour

I did in 2005.

On the first day we met, I said,

“By the end of this tour, you will hate

Everyone in this band.

And I will be one of your

Good buddies.”

Such was/is the case.
With the stompbox fixed,

I roll back into the set

And crank out another

Hour + of tunes.


THE DRUGS

Bjorn and I hang at the club
For a bit afterward
But I'm burnt and feel
Like getting out of here.
Shows over.
It's time to roll.
10 years ago or whatever
Things would have been different.
We would've hung all night,
Drank, whatever.
But I've had to grow up
A lot since then.
I have a kid.
I'm engaged.
Older, wiser?
I don't know, maybe.
I'm trying.
They call it maturing.
It ain't easy.
But like a lot of things,
It has to be done.
At least to a certain degree.
I can't drink and party all night.
I don't do drugs anymore.
Drugs actually bore the shit out of me now.
Especially drug talk.
Unless it's psychedelics & mind expansion,
My mind just turns off when I hear it.
It's like talking about golf or something.
Or a lost war.
I had some good times.
Bad times, too.
It was just a lot of time wasted,
Trying to figure shit out
And using dope as some sort of
Deluded-therapeutic buffer.
Some people are like that.
I was one of them.
It seemed logical at the time.
Felt pretty damn good.
But it eventually became a drag.
So I moved on. Slowly.
Thank the gods.
I hate talking about this shit, actually.
It's pretty clichéd
And can easily get preachy,
Which is fucking lame.
Fuck the preaching.
Just do what you want to do.
Live and explore this life.
That's what it's about.
It's not all pretty.
And when the time comes,
And you get burnt, beat down,
Exhausted, whatever, etc.
Take your licks
Like a man,
And accept it.
And know when
It is time to move on.
One journey into the unknown ends
And another begins.
Fuck it,

What else are you going to do?

**

Bjorn and I
Load out the gear.
Smoke one more cigarette
Outside the club.
Then, apropos of nothing,
We turn
And

Go gentle into that good night.
Too tired to rage
Against the dying of the light.

We weave through

The lithe

Belgium roads

Roundabouts

Nameless intersections

Miles of highway.

Miles of night

And the theater of stars

Hovering above us.

11.10.11
GIG & RADIO SHOW

THE BUNKER

GEMERT, HOLLAND

The venue is another community arts center.

It’s called The Bunker.

It’s got its own radio station,

Music venue,

And production facility.

And some other stuff.
Not sure what.

Everyone that works here

Seems really cool

With an earthy,

Rather than urban,
Punk rock vibe.

Load in.

Sound check.

Then I do an interview

For a radio show called

“Lost in the Blues”
or maybe

“Hotdogs & Cool Cats.”
Not sure which,

As the bumpers

Are all in Dutch.

The host is an interesting guy.

He asks good questions.
He gets it
And hones in on the fact
That what I am doing musically
Isn't just “blues.”
It's something else.

It is whatever it is.

Even I don’t know

What it is.
Only time decides

What your shit is.

Nothing else.

Not hype.

Not sales.
Not money.
Not magazines.

Not print campaigns.
Not fans.

Just time.
That's it.
Time.
The gig goes well.
After the show,
The locals give me
The amputated leg
of a mannequin
That was lying around the club.
"Here you go, Dege leg."
Fair enough.
I accept it
I pack the leg
Into the car
With the other gear.




Lost in the Blues Radio Show:
Lost in the Blues Radio Show, Holland, 2011-11-10

11.11.11
NOTES ON THEO

Theo picks me up

And we roll

To the next venue

In Belgium.


      Theo: Booker, road manager, good guy.

The guy is total class act.
Theo is a huge music fan.
He has a deep and profound knowledge
Of American music.
Europeans really internalize
And appreciate American music.
On this tour alone,
Theo
Turned me on to so much
Music I'd never heard of.

It’s obvious from the way

He conducts himself

And how the people

Around here treat him,

That he is a well liked

And respected guy.

Especially in Dutch music circles.
He is a really good dude.

Totally sober

Devoted to his wife

And he’s not a greed hound.

I thank the gods

For bringing good people

Like Theo

Into my life

And leaving the bastards

At bay.

I don’t need anymore bastards.

Fuck them.
Over the course of the tour,
I never hear Theo complain once.
And when he offers criticism
Of something,
He does it in such a diplomatic
And inoffensive way,
You can't help
But listen. 

GIG: AARSCHOT, BELGIUM

The venue
Is a small bar

Run by an interesting

Guy name Jokah.
Like Joker.

But with no R.
He's an intense looking dude.
Like a tall, stocky Charles Manson
After he shaved his head.
But in actuality,
He is a good, friendly dude.
He hooks me up with
Jameson & Cokes
Whenever I need them.
Which is not to often,
Because I'm trying to
Get into chill mode.
And whiskey is hard to play on
Once you've had too many.
It can be a disaster actually.
So I go slow. And easy, baby.

Theo splits from home.
We make plans
To meet up tomorrow.

He is spending time

With his wife

In Holland,

So I am on my own.

Before he leaves,

I ask Theo

Where the hell am I

Staying after the gig?
Theo tells me that

The club has booked

Me a room at a place

Called “The Castle.”
Some kind of hotel.

I guess.

So I’m on my own

In Belgium.

Fuck it.

**
First thing I notice

Upon arrival

At the venue, De Loods

Is

There’s no PA.

Just a Marshall combo

And a mic.
Insert: worried face.
Jokah calls a few Belgian guys

Who haul some more small amps

Down to the venue

And we Frankenstein

A makeshift PA together.’

It’s pretty ghetto,

But it works.

And it doesn’t sound too bad.

Fuck it.

The venue,

Which is next to an art gallery,

Fills up quickly.
I meet and talk with

A Belgian music writer

Named Mieke Geukens

Who wrote a nice review

Of my Folk Songs record

And voted it the top album

Of 2010.

Nice!

Nice lady.
I get lucky sometimes.

We shoot some photos

And make arrangements

To do an interview

In the future.

This was Mieke's Top Albums of 2010 list:
1. BROTHER DEGE - FOLK SONGS OF THE AMERICAN LONGHAIR

2. MORELAND & ARBUCKLE - FLOOD

3 .COTTON BELLY’S - COTTON BELLY’S

4 .SPIKEDRIVERS - SEVEN

5. MAVIS STAPLES - YOU ARE NOT ALONE

6. LIZZ WRIGHT - FELLOW SHIP

7. NATALIE MERCHANT - LEAVE YOUR SLEEP

8. HT ROBERTS - SPIRIT LEVEL

9. RYAN BINGHAM & THE DEAD HORSES - JUNKY STAR

10. TOM FELDMANN & THE GET-RITES - TRIBUTE - THE GOSPELS SIDES

*I kicked Natalie Merchant's ass!

With slight trepidation
I begin the set

And

Lean into the Frankenstein PA

And kick out the jams.

It works.

Crowd hangs with me

And follows

The trajectory of the set

And

All the ambient detours.

Nice.
I like it when

I don’t have to be an entertainer

And can just be an artist.
Sure, it sounds bloated, indulgent.

But I know I’m not a great entertainer

Nor a virtuosic musician.
I’m an artist
Disguised as a musician.

**

The gig goes well.

Crowd hangs in there till the end.

Play an encore.

I hang out with the locals.

Cool people, Belgians.

I know there’s

A long historical rivalry

Between Belgians and the Dutch,

But both are, in general,

Cool motherfuckers.
I haven’t met one asshole

On this entire tour.
Amazing.
In America,

They’re everywhere.
I wonder if it’s because

I’m a guest in this country

And I can’t recognize

The assholes.

THE ILLUMINATI LODGE
Aarschot, Belgium

After the gig.

I have no idea where

I am sleeping tonight.

Theo is gone.
I have no car. No ride.
No minders or road manager tonight.

I was told there was

A room booked for me

At some place

Called The Castle.

Jokah offers to let me

Crash at his house.
I think about.
But

I've spent the last 10 days

Being around other people.

It would be nice to just

Be

Alone.

For a night at least.
I could rest my voice.

Lounge.

Relax.

And

Be alone.

It is nice to just be alone sometimes.

If I crash at Jokah’s house,

I know I’ll end up drinking,

Smoking cigarettes,

And staying up late
And further blowing out my voice.

I politely thank Jokah

For the offer to stay at his place

But I opt to crash

At this place called The Castle.

I need some alone time.

Thankfully,

No one takes offense.
Arrangements are made

To bring me to the Castle.
We load my gear into

The car of a guy named Jimmy.
Jimmy works at the Castle.
He’s got the keys.

He will drive me.
We roll out

Through the dark

Belgian countryside.

Down skinny winding roads.

30 min later,

We turn a corner

And there,

Lit in the distance

Is the Castle.

It’s a creepy looking place

Place made of the Freemason stones
And old wood.
It doesn’t look so much

Like a castle

As some kind of medieval lodge.

We unload my gear,

Walk in,

And strangely,

No one is there.

The whole place is empty.

No staff.

No guests.

No nothing.

It’s like The Shining.

Jimmy leads me upstairs,

Down a long hallway,

And to my room.

Room #9.
He opens the door.
I lug in my gear.

Drop it on the floor.

We say our goodbyes

And Jimmy leaves.
I’m alone in the Castle.
The room is just a regular

Hotel room.

Bed, bathroom, TV, dresser.
Nice, but nothing extravagant.
I shower, relax.

Watch some TV.

It’s 2:40 a.m.
Eventually; I grow bored
I get up to smoke a cigarette outside.
Walk around the place.

Once again,

It’s like I’m in the movie The Shining.
There’s classical statues here and there.

A large ballroom room

And dining area

With a white grand piano

And

Dinner tables covered

With white table clothes.

Spooky.
Once, again.
There’s no one here.

Not a soul.

I find a sculpture

Of an owl

And get the Illuminati creeps.
I get the feeling that

This place is 

Some kind Bohemian Grove-style

Illuminati lodge.

It’s got a dark, aristocratic vibe.

I smok.

Walk around

Space out.

Back in my room.

There’s just eerie silence.
I feel like Scatman Crothers

Is going to walk around the corner

At any minute.

**

MORNING AT THE ILLUMINATI LODGE
After a night

Fighting for sleep

In the Illuminati lodge,
I finally crash into my dreams

And

Lay there till morning.

None of which

I can remember.

I smoke.

Walk about the exterior

Of the lodge.

Discover a lake.

More statues.

Stare into the leaves.

Ground.

Water.

Smoke levitating

In the still air.

And still,

Not a soul around.
How weird.
How strange

That I ended up here.

      Photos of The Illuminati Lodge, Belgium

  

  

   

  

BRUGGE, BELGIUM

At some point

Theo and I drove 

Through an ancient town 

in Belgium

Named Brugge.

It's been arround

Since the middle ages

Maybe longer.

It began as a Gallic-Roman settlement.

It’s pretty amazing.

There’s an actual mote around

The old section of the city.

Much of its ancient architecture

Is still intact.
In America,

We freak out when we see

Something 100 yrs old.
In Europe,

The scale of history
Dwarfs it.

BLAUBLUES, HARINGE, HOLLAND

11.12.11
Theo picks me up at “The Castle.”

He trips out on the place, too.

And decides to take some pictures.

We walk around.

He takes photos.

Then
We load up

And drive to Haringe, Belgium

For the next gig.

BLAU BLUES, GIG

11.12.11

I’m playing in a tent.

It’s a blues festival

In Belgium somewhere.
I’ve got a tent stage.

And a big ass tent PA.

Nice.

All to myself.

The contract calls for 3

30 min sets.

When a band from the venue

Connected to my tent finishes,

I bang through a set.

It’s a good night.

Maybe the best of the tour.

200-300 people fill the tent.

Sounds is great.

Crowd rocks.

The acoustics of the tent

And the sound system

Allow me to feed back

The Dobro

For

Long stretches

Without it being too harsh.

During the last set,

I close with “Battle of New Orleans”

And segue into the section of the song

Where I layer loops and feedback,

Emulating the sound of hurricane.
It usually separates the tourists

From the purists.
It’s noisy, loud,
Rumbling,

And

Not easy listening.

After I fade out the hurricane,

I grind into a Hendrix-inspired version

Of the Star-Spangled Banner,

Played on slide.

They tent crowd calls from one more.
I pull out

“The World’s Longest Hotdog”

And riff on frikandels and shit.

“Hotdog” is probably the most

Serious song I’ve ever written.

I’m joking of course.
James Taylor probably wishes

He wrote that bitch.

It’s moving and emotional.
The song came to me like a dove

And flew into my hands

With its wings gently wafting

On the breeze.
After the show,
A French artist guy
Showed me his sketch book.
He did these while I played:

 

 

Also,

At this gig,

I met Bob Margolin,

Who was also playing 

At this festival.

Bob played guitar

in Muddy Water's band

From 1973-80

And even appeared

Playing guitar at Muddy's side

During the filming of

The Last Waltz.

Muddy taught him

How to play slide old-school style.

Bob watched my set 

From the side of the stage.

After the set we talked shit,

Drank beer.

    Me and Bob Margolin, Beglium.

Of course,

I asked him

A bunch of fanboy questions

About Muddy.

Bob was so chill
Approachable and cool.

Another musician 

Who isn't an asshole.

What a great dude.

So grateful I get

The opportunity 

To meet such good people.

DE BROUWERIJ, ASTEN, HOLLAND
11.13.11

Last gig of the tour.

A guy that makes

Cigar box guitars

Has a display set up.
These things are the rage

Right now.
This guy’s box guitars

Sound really good.

Sound better

Than my fucking Dobro.
Fuck it.
I’ll play cheap shit till

I die.
It still sounds good.
Speaking of which,

I notice my pick-up jack

Is coming loose on my Regal.
Something is always breaking

Or falling apart

Or being reborn

On tour.

Such is life.

Fuck it.
And move on.
And don’t complain too much.

It’s bad form.

**

I tear into the last set.

Try to make it count.

I play two sets.

Close with the layers,

Loops,

Scapes,

And noise.

I walk out

With the Dobro

Leaning against the amp,

Still cycling feedback,

Sending a little mayday transmission

To the dark stars.

    The last note of the tour. (Theo)


11.14.11 – Amsterdam / Rated - PG
I wake early.

Pack my shit.

Say goodbye

To the ghost of Townes.
Wish him luck.

Theo drops me at the train station.

We say our goodbyes.

I thank him.

He’s a total class act, that Theo.

I catch the noon train to Amsterdam.
Then catch a cab to the hotel.
Toss my crap in room.

And walk to the Van Gogh Museum.

I love Van Gogh.

After reading the Lust for Life

In the 90’s.

I was hooked on

Van Gogh’s story

And art.
Van Gogh

Will break your heart.

After a couple hours
At the Van Gogh museaum,

I cab it to the Anne Frank house,

Which is interesting.
And sad.

It’ll bum you out.

But that’s history.

Last time I was

On tour here,

We got wasted,

And threw down.

This time around

My shit is totally square.

And PG-13.

Museums, food, books.

I love it.
It’s a different time.

I’m at a different place

In my life.

I like it here.

It’s nice to grow up

Somewhat.

**
My Morning Jacket

Paradiso Club

Amsterdam

Damn these dudes are good.

Been a fan

Of My Morning Jacket
Since ’00 or so

But I’d never seen them live.

Seen footage, but not live.

All I have to say is:

Daaaammmmmmnnnnn.

MMJ are so good.

What a great band.

They were so killer,

I couldn’t even be jealous.

They’ve got the great vibe.

Amazing tunes.
Ripping players.

Each of them are just monsters.

Guitarist Carl Broemel is a fiend.
Damn that dude was good.

Working overtime on his shit.

On stage,
They come off

Like good buddies

Just

Rocking together.

Jesus, they were great.

Glad I finally caught them live.

Damn.

Damn.

Damn.

END OF TOUR.

Brother Dege Netherlands Belgium Tour Journal Pt.1

This is my little scrap book
Of my 2011 two-week European tour.
I write these so I don't forget,
Years later,
What the hell happened.
I hope you enjoy reading it.

LAFAYETTE AIRPORT

11.2.11

Check in.

Get the ticket.

I’m flying light on this trip.

Renting a backline amp

In Europe,

So all I’ve got is:
1 hiking back pack
1 effects pedal board
1 Dobro
Airline makes me check in

The pedal board,

Gate check the guitar,

And carry on the backpack.

Fuck it.

Dobro is in a good case.

Hopefully it doesn’t get

Munched.
I go through the metal detector.

It beeps.

Then beeps again.

Each time I go through.

All my shits in the plastic bin.

Not sure why it keeps popping off.

The security people

Steer me off to the side.

A TSA guy puts on rubber gloves

And gives me the full TSA

Pat down.

Balls and all.

Homeland Security, meet my nuts.
This shit is ridiculous.

In my opinion,

The TSA pat downs

Are just a dog & pony show

Meant to train people

To submit

To their masters.

Fuck’em.

The dude doing the pat down

Looks more miserable than me.

Oh well, dude.

You choose your lot in life.
You could’ve been

A respectable garbage man

But you chose this.

So this is what you get.

Halfway through the patdown

I remember the nicotine patch

Stashed in my back pocket.

It is made of foil.

I pull it out and toss it in the bin.

The pat down dude looks relieved.

He makes a lazy show

Of finishing the pat down

But we both know it’s over.

He waves me through

And goes about

The business of working

For the fear mongers,

Scaring people out of
What freedoms they have left.
If you disagree,

I can’t help you.


HOUSTON TO AMSTERDAM
11.2.11
11 hour flight.

I settle into my window seat.

Nobody booked

In the adjacent seat.
Very nice.

Read for an hour.
Book: Wicked River: The Mississippi When It Last Ran Wild

Link: http://www.amazon.com/Wicked-River-Mississippi-When-Last/dp/0307378519

I eat some plane food.

Stare out the window.

Fly through a cloud.

I’m in a cloud, I think.

I stretch across both seats.

Make a makeshift bed.

Sleep for few hours.

Long ass flights
Are like a survival exercise

In staving off boredom.
My solution: read and sleep.
There’s really no one

To talk to on this flight

Except an old Dutch guy

Sitting directly in front of me

With his seat reclined in my lap.

He must have a special seat

Because that thing is way back.
Everytime I move or roll over

I bump the back of his seat

And he grumbles.

AMSTERDAM, HOLLAND

7:32 a.m.
Plane lands.

Amsterdam, Holland.

Overcast and grey.

Exit plane.

Grab the Dobro at the gate.

I make my way to the baggage claim

And wait for the pedal board to pop out.

There was a band

On the same flight as me.
They nervously wait

For their gear as well.

Sometimes the gear gets lost.
CC Adcock and I once flew
to a one-off gig in Finland in ’05.
They lost my guitar, pedal board,

And suitcase.
I ended up using borrowed gear
At the gigs.
And
Washing

The same clothes

For five days

In a sink

Until we returned to the states

Where my stuff mysteriously

Reappeared at baggage claim.

Go figure.
Here’s another funny story about that trip.
While wandering around the Helsinki Airport

Waiting for our flight,

CC and I saw a few

Aging metal dudes

With long, dyed-black hair

Wandering around the Helsinki airport
Looking bored just like us.
Jokingly, as we passed them,
I quietly said to CC, “Check out Anthrax.”
Not five seconds later,

Scott Ian (guitarist of Anthrax) walks

Around the corner
And joins the dyed-black hair dudes.
It really is Anthrax!
What’s even funnier is 15 min

Later after passing the Anthrax guys

Numerous times in the airport,

We all end up at the same gate terminal
Making small talk with them

As we’re waiting for the plane.
Anthrax: “What band you guys play with?”
CC: “CC Adcock & The Lafayette Marquis.”
Anthrax: (blank stare).
CC: “Who are you guys with?”
Anthrax: “Anthrax.”

CC: (blank stare).
I guess CC wasn’t much of a metal fan.
Nor Anthrax roots music fans.
You live and learn.

LOST IN AMSTERDAM
My pedal board pops

Out of the baggage carousel.
I grab it.
I make my way through customs.
The European Customs guy

Asks, “Business or pleasure?”

“Both.”
“Have a good stay.”
I wander around,

Lugging my gear,

Looking for my contact, Theo.
The guy who booked this tour.
I assume he is going to pick me up.
But it turns out

That Theo had made arrangements

For Bjorn (Euro road manager)

To pick me up.
However,

As I soon found out

Through text messages,

Bjorn couldn’t make it.
Theo instructs me to buy a train ticket

and

To meet him in Eindhoven,

90 min from Amsterdam.

Ok.
I search about for the train terminal.
Locate it.

Attempt to buy ticket,

But none of my credit cards are working

Because

As I am told
“They don’t have the Euro chip.”

What the fuck is the Euro chip?

Whatever.

I came here with $100 in pocket.

I’ll use that.

I try to pay with an American $20 bill.

The train ticket guy shakes his head.

“You must pay in Euros.”

He points in a vague direction

And says I must exchange

My American money for euros.

Ok.

I grab my gear. Lug it across the airport.

Locate money exchange bank.
I change in all the cash I brought: $100.
I get back 60 euros and change.

Keep on rocking in the free world, America.

Keep on rocking.

Good job with that.
I lug my gear back to the train ticket terminal.

Buy ticket.

Make my way downstairs to the trains.

I then begin the confusing process

Of figuring out which fucking train is mine.
I ask a few Dutch people.

Even they don’t know.

The Dutch train system

Inherently confusing.
And all the signs are written in Dutch.

I find a sign that says Eindhoven on it

I park my gear under it

And wait.

Till it arrives.

Train pulls up. Doors open.

I struggle my way through throngs of people.
Stuff all my gear in a seat
And plant myself down

Across from it.
Train rolls.

I watch the scenery.

Canals, fields, factories, subdivisions, etc.
90 min later I’m in Eindhoven.
Hump my gear off the train.

And text Theo that I’m here.
He shows up 15 min later.
We shake hands.

Welkom to Holland.

THE TOWNES VAN ZANDT SUITE

We load my gear in Theo’s car.

He drives to the apartment

Where I will be staying.

It’s a 3-bedroom apartment

In Eindhoven
Where guest musicians stay.
The apartment is owned by a

Dutch husband & wife

Who are folk musicians.

Their son Dylan lives there, also. 

And kind of manages the place.
We arrive.
I’m led to a small bedroom

And informed that this is where

Townes Van Zandt used to sleep

When he played in Holland.
This will be my room.
I toss my crap in a corner,

Climb in the bed,

And sleep for 4 hrs.

GIG: THE RAMBLER
I’m playing at a club called The Rambler.
Cool place.
They book everything from roots

To punk rock

To metal

To indie bands.
I plug in all my gear.

Since Europe is wired for 220v

And American stuff is 110v,

I had to rent something called

A “step-down transformer.”

It’s 30 lb metal box

About the size of a shoe box
That has got a small transformer inside.
I need it to power my pedal board.

I plug everything in.

Flip the switch.

And it pops the breaker in the club.

Lights go out in half the place.

This, I will learn,

Will be a fairly common ritual

Of this tour.

The transformer, it seems,

Sucks a lot of power.
I sound check.

Drink a few beers,

And then

Play a 90 min set.

Composed of material
From my album Folk Songs of the American Longhair
Plus some new tunes

Plus a few extended

“Slide-scapes”

Where I layer loops of slide parts
And such.

The crowd hangs in there

With me.
This is good.
Because 90 min

Is sort of a long time to play

By yourself

When doing

All original material.
You're working overtime up there,
Trying to keep the crowd
Engaged.
I finish the set.

Drink and talk with the natives.

Shoot the shit.

Hang with

A couple Dutch metal dudes.

People are friendly here.

They aren’t jacked up on bullshit.

Or at least not as much bullshit
As back home.
Also my old buddy Bjorn shows up.
He was the road manager

For a European tour

I did here in 2005

When I played in CC Adcock’s band.

Haven’t seen him in six years.
Good dude.
Sleep.

Photos of show: http://www.bluesmagazine.nl/fotoalbum-brother-dege-3-november-2011-the-rambler-eindhoven

EINDHOVEN, HOLLAND

11.4.11
I wake at dawn
With the ghost
Of Townes Van Zandt

Pecking at my head.
The town is completely silent.
No sirens.

Screaming.

Or

Honking.
It’s pretty surreal.

I grab a coffee up the street

At a coffee/weed shop,

Check some email,

And locate the local grocery store,

Which is called “Jumbo.”
I buy some stuff that

Looks like American sandwich meat.
Bread.

Coke.

Chips.

Walk back to the apartment.

I eat in silence,

Biting down on potato chips

While
Pondering the odd trajectory of my life.

JABO GUMBO RADIO SHOW
Theo drives me to do a radio show.

It’s called the “JaBo Gumbo Show.”
People love the word gumbo.

Jabo is the host.
He seems cool.

Informed.

Asks good questions.
I play four songs live in the studio.
Plus a short interview.
Having just gotten over a cold in the U.S.A.

I’m still snotting,

So
I play a couple mellow tunes

So I don’t have to strain my voice too much.
Note to self: quit smoking.
The other guest on the show

Is a songwriter chick named Devon Spoule.

She’s good.

     Me and Devon Sproule on Jabo Gumbo Radio Show

Quirky, folky.
Good songwriter and singer.
Here husband Paul Curreri is a ripper, too.

Other than the interview segments,
Most of the show is in Dutch,

So I don’t understand what they’re saying

Until Jabo points to me and says
“Broother Deeeege.”

This is a video of me playing on the show:
http://gumbo.radio6.nl/2011/11/09/bekijk-het-optreden-van-devon-sproule-en-brother-dege-in-de-jabo-gumbo-show/

Scroll down.

Bekijk het optreden van Devon Sproule en Brother Dege in de JaBo Gumbo Show

GIG

11.4.11
MORRISON'S PUB, ROSSUM, HOLLAND

Small pub out in the country

Known for hosting

A lot of touring roots musicians.
Old place.
Countryside.

I drink a few Jameson & Cokes.

Then the bartender tells me

That they also serve
“The world’s oldest and greatest beer.”
“I’ll have one of those, please.”

They’ve been brewing beer in Europe forever.

They know how to do it.

It has no preservatives in it.
It doesn’t give one a
“hog balls off the forehead hangover”

And it’s good.
20 min later

With nice buzz in tow

I have to agree

It is indeed

The “world’s greatest & oldest beer.”

Got a nice kick.
I wish I could remember the name of it.
I order another.
Theo and I make a food run up the street.
There’s nothing open but a snack shop.
He orders me something

Called a frikandel.

It’s the Dutch equivalent of a hotdog,

I think.
Like a hotdog, nobody knows what’s in it.

And nobody wants to know.

It’s late night food.

I munch it down.
It tastes ok.

Kind of weird.

But it’ll do.
I have a feeling
The World’s Longest Frikandel

Will work its way into the set.
Back at the club,
I bang out the second show of the tour.

Decent set.

Not great

On my part.

But the crowd is good.

Fun.

Once again,
They follow me on the slide-scape detours

And don’t seem to get bored.
Nice.

I appreciate that.

A photographer buddy of Theo’s

Is at the show.
He is working on a photo book

Of guitarists.

We shoot some pictures.

After that I drink another

Of the World’s Greatest Beers

And

Smoke a bit of weed with some locals.

Nobody believes me,

But I rarely smoke weed.

It’s just never been my thing.

Weed tends to makes me quirky & weird.

I don’t need any help in that department.
But fuck it.
It’s Dutch weed,
Which like it's beer,
Is supposedly good.

It doesn’t make me tweaky.

Which is nice.
Just relaxed.

The locals caution me against

Buying weed in Amsterdam.
“It’s tourist shit.”

“The good shit is outside of Amsterdam.”
Although I’m not planning

On purchasing any weed

Nor smoking any for another 2 years

Or so,

I take mental note
And realize that Amsterdam
Is probably a lot like New Orleans
And the tourists (Bourbon Street)
Situation there.
People from Louisiana rarely, if ever,
Go hang out on Bourbon Street.
(Or at least they don't admit to it).
That's where the tourists go
And pay for overpriced drinks and shit.
Amsterdam proper, it seems, is the same.

**
Theo and I pack up the gear

And make

The night drive

Back to Eindhoven.
I fade in / out

Of sleep.

Head against the glass.

The Dutch country side

Slides by, dreamlike,

In the watery shadows
And dikes. 

ZONDAG, BLOODY ZONDAG
11.7.1
SUNDAY

Sundays always catch up with you.

They find you hungover

Crying

Lonely

Grey

Strange

And

Greasy.
with
Bad breath.
This Sunday is no different.

And I am no exception.
Zondag, bloody zondag.

I sleep most of the day
At some point in the morning,

I vaguely remember

Being awoken by the cacophonous

Sound of all the church bells in town

Ringing in clattering unison.

Put that in your Kloosterkerk

And smoke it.
It was both frightening

And beautiful.

Townes had left the window open

So I got a good dose

Of the sound of these

Voluminous bells,

Urging the citizenry to church.

I think this was Townes’ idea

Of a good joke.

I went back to sleep.

Slept all day.

      (View from the Townes Van Zandt room)



GIG:ENSCHEDE, HOLLAND

NIX BLUES CLUB

11.5.11

Good gig.

The owner of the venue

Collects vintage guitar amps

So the place is filled with

Beautiful old tube amps

That line the place like furniture.

It’s like amp museum.

Place is called The Nix.

I end up using the club’s
Vintage Fender Bassman

Because it sounds better

Than my Twin reissue rental.

The club video tapes every show.

I need to search the net for footage of it.

Note to self.
I play some new tunes.

Some with no words.
Some with no home yet.
I pull “Operation: Have U Never Been Mellow”

Out of the song bag.
It’s a 10 min slide-scape thing
I first wrote/improvised while my fiancé Joni

Was shooting video in the country.
It’s interesting to note that

The Europeans have been digging

These slide-scape things

During the sets.
They hang in there with me

And listen.
When I put these type songs
In the set

At home in Louisiana,
I tend to lose the crowd.

It’s like letting the air out of tire

Till it’s flat.
But that’s Louisiana.

It’s about shaking your ass.

Not so much your mind.
But that is the lot

We have been given.

I will make

The best of it.
Regardless.

11.6.11

De Groot, Eindhoven, Holland

Small club gig.
I bang it out.

Drink some beer.

Yak with the locals.

Good gig.

One of my favorite bands

Of all time,

The Birthday Party,

Played a gig in Eindhoven

On this same day in 1981.

That was a long time ago.

But the soul

And damage

Still resonates.

Don’t believe me?

Watch this old footage

Of them.

 

11.7.11

MONDAY – DAY OFF

Eindhoven, Holland

No gig tonight.
I have the day off.

I sleep most of the day.

Rest my voice

Which is scratchy and hoarse.

Leftover remnants of my cold.
My book on the history of
The Mississippi River
That I bought for the tour

Is getting good.

There’s a crazy chapter on “camp meetings”

Along the Mississippi River.
Read up on that shit here.

Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_meeting

They were like hysterical

Burning Man, religious revival festivals

Held out in the woods.

People caught the ghost,

Went crazy with the holyspirit,

Jumped up and down,

Flailed around,

Convulsed,

And in general

Just freaked out in the backwoods.

Some of them were 5,000-10,000 strong

In attendance.

Quote from the book…
Participants at the camp meetings would be often become enthralled with what was known as the falling exercise. It was a kind of violent fainting spell that would come over people at the height of their religious transports. The subject would generally begin with a piercing scream, fall like a log to the earth, and appear as dead. They might remain that way for minutes or even hours. When they revived, they would often sob controllably or scream out to god and the glory of the gospel in what witnesses describe as “almost superhuman language, agonizing in tears.” Those who didn’t become fallers might instead experience “the jerks”…a convulsive movement that would begin in the arms, legs or shoulders and spread throughout the whole body. Others would twist and jerk their heads from side to side, rapidly nodding and snapping their heads back only to hurl themselves on the ground and in the mud, rolling around like dogs, writhing and screaming as though they were being stabbed with hot pokers.

THE DUTCH TOILET


The toilets of Holland

Are a strange

And alarming delight.

In most of them,

The hole is at the front of the bowl

Rather than the rear

As in American toilets.
In fact,

Many of Dutch toilets have a shelf

At the rear

That catches your turd.

There is no idling water,

Waiting to catch and mask

The overpowering stench

Of your human turd.

It is only when you

Actually flush the toilet

That a rush of

Water mercifully carries
That turd off the shelf

And down the hole.

Forever to be gone from your sight.
And your smell.
The interesting thing is:

While making a doo-doo,

You get a really hearty

And disturbing whiff

Of your own feces.

There is no water,
Masking the smell of

Your own nasty humanness.

Your nose is forced

To confront

The stinking pestilence

That is your own ass. 

For the 3-15 min,

That you are shitting,

You must live with the

Smell

Of that

Horrible reeking turd

Coming out of your ass.
It’s a truly humbling experience.

Perhaps you are one

That thinks your shit

Does not stink?

If so,

Please go to Holland.

If only to shit once

And leave.

It will make you more human.
It will make you

A kinder or my empathetic

Man or woman.
Or beast.
For to be human

Is to shit in Holland.

MARC RIBOT
Theo and his wife Diana

Pick me up early evening.

Tom Waits’ guitarist Marc Ribot

Is in town playing with his trio.

Free jazz.

Watching musicians like Marc Ribot

Reminds you that there are no rules.

That everything is music.
That you can play

Or

Do whatever you want.

Time will determine

Whether or not it is art.

It’s a good show.
Interesting.

***

I meet up with Dylan
at the Ribot show

And we head out to catch

A few songs
Of Boo Boo Davis

Who is playing up the street.

Boo Boo is an old Mississippi bluesman

Now living in Holland.

It’s an all too typical story.

Mississippi bluesman

Can’t make a living in the U.S.

So he moves to Europe

Where people appreciate him

And he can make a living

And live a life not teetering

On the brink of ruin.
Boo Boo was good.
Good Dutch blues players

In his band as well.

EURO BIKE
Dylan is a cool kid.

Round 20 yrs old.
Good drummer.

And a good guitar player.

And he’s got the gift of taste.
He just knows what is good

Musically

And what sucks.
We leave the Boo Boo show.

Head up the street to another bar.
As we’re walking,

He tells me there aren’t a lot of homeless people
In Holland.
But that the one’s that are homeless
Are usually drug addicts.
Most of them get by on stealing bikes

And selling them for $5 euros.
“But you can talk them down to 3 euros,” he says.
Not five minutes later a guy

Walks past us, pushing a bike.
“Five euros,” he says.
“I’ll give you three,” I say.

“Ok.”
I give him three euros.

I think Dylan gave him an extra euro.

And I have a bike.
We ride to a hole in the wall Dutch bar

Owned by a Scottish, ex-Navy man.
The place is empty except

For three guys playing cards in a corner.
We drink beer.
The places is dense with smoke, old wood,
and dirt.
“This is the true Dutch experience,” says Dylan.
Meaning: it's a hole in the wall,
Dirty, old Dutch bar.
The vice-president of the Dutch educational system

Or something like that
Shows up.

He’s a friend of the family.

Also an old guitar player.
His name is Eddie.

     (L-R: Dege, Eddie the Vice-Chancellor, Dylan)

He drives an expensive car and wears a suit.
But he likes to party, hang, and get drunk.
Which is what we do.
The true Dutch experience.

The evening rolls on.

We’re all drunk.

We roll out.

Time to go home.

Exit the bar.

Eddie, drunk,

Hops on my newly purchased bike

And wildly pedals it up the street

Back and forth a few times.
I take his picture.
He gives me the bike back.

Hops in his nice car

And disappears

Into one side of the night

And we, the other.

    The "Vice-Chancellor of Education"
    In Holland riding my $3 bike.


      Dylan. Dude's going to be a monster musician one day.

      Wandering the streets of Holland.


JAMES BROWN , PRINCE, & MJ
Dylan and I go back to the apartment.
We watch funny YouTube videos
And laugh our asses off.
YouTube is like the new cable TV.
By far,
The funniest one we watch
Is a video that Dylan dials up
Of James Brown's birthday party
In 1983.
Michael Jackson is there.
So is Prince.
Everyone is drunk.
Words can't explain.
It's so hilarious,
I have to watch it about eight times.

Posted by Psyouthern at 8:26 AM