Okay! Here's what happened.

I arrived to Terminal 5 with John, checked in, but was told that I had no ticket in the system. Hmm. They found that I had reserved a seat on November 24, but it was never confirmed and was promptly sold. That's when I panicked and called you (I must have sounded insane :-), when Bart called me back, confirming that the transaction went through on the credit card number, so.... it should have been there. Well, I ended up buying a new ticket, Berlin thru Frankfurt leaving at 5pm (505 pounds) from Terminal 2. That's when Leigh shows up, saying he had the same problem with his ticket i.e. there not being one. Leigh was great; he helped shlepp my stuff over the multitude of stairs, escalators, lifts, long walkways, and I couldn't have done it without the lad. Leigh caught his 4pm flight back to Paris.

I checked in to Lufthansa at 2:30, and was served by a complete twat of a fly, who after weighing the overweight, gave me the bill at 370 pounds, 40kg over baggage. I realized I didn't take out extra cash when I used the bank machine earlier to buy the ticket, so I went upstairs (dragging my 6 bags on a wobbly broken cart) and tried the bank automats. It turned out the bank whom I had used earlier has a capper on 1 machine extraction per day, so it refused my bank card. All the other 5 automats in the terminal were OUT OF CASH, as it is, after all, the Sunday before Christmas. They just weren't issuing money. The Worldwide Exchange assistant couldn't get anything out of my card either. So, I have no credit card and had no money to pay for the baggage. Ha! I think ultimately it was a plus that I had been drinking the night before, which must have contributed to the calm state of zombie within.

I went downstairs to inquire about a third party -- Astrid paying for the baggage via credit card over the phone/internet. This whole ordeal was a ruse, and cost me valuable time wondering what to do with the bags. I called Astrid and got her the number of Lufthansa's office for this kind of stuff. There was confusion over where the number was actually from, so Astrid tried the number, then variations on city code games, with no answers. Then back upstairs to check out wire transfers to Worldwide Exchange... no luck. Then back downstairs, cart in tow, sweat in brow. The attendant eventually said they actually cannot do any credit card transactions. At all. I looked at her with astonishment, as she wasted 35 minutes on bullshitting me. What a d**&@%$#bag. Wow.

Then I checked in 3 bags of luggage (thinking I could send them cheaper and still afford it, but it takes 10 days to arrive anywhere, so) on to the "Left Luggage" storage place, thinking that perhaps you could grab the gear pre-Frankfurt flight, and I could still make my flight with a little bit of over baggage (I had euros, but not much) and see Berlin tonight. I checked them in, with instructions that the bags would ONLY be handed over to the holder of the original digitally coded ticket -- so I figured I would courier express it over to London, and then boom, it's done. But I checked in afterward to the counter, and was told something was strange with the luggage tags, as they issued tickets which never made it to the the bags themselves. I was told I would not be able to make the flight, as they already had stopped boarding -- it was 5pm.

A supervisor-type fellow overheard and took over the problem, which came as a big relief. He was on the computer looking up his things -- while speaking to the attendant beside him, relaying an earlier episode that occurred at the counter, where because the man was behaving rudely, the supervisor-type deliberately fucked around with his seating arrangements. Why was this said in front of me? To emphasize his own mythology? It was funny. And really pathetic. Spending all that time in shite airport made me feel sorry for absolutely everyone working there. Airports should never be more than a to b.   What ended up happening is he got me another flight out thru Frankfurt to Berlin leaving at 6:30pm. He asked about the luggage and asked that I bring them back in order to make the flight. He said he could try to drop the kg fee to get all the bags on the flight. I gambled and got the 3 pieces (bass, guitar, pedal board) out of storage for 19.50 pounds (being 6.50/24hr). I explained the whole thing to him, and I told him all I had was 200 euros, so I could pay whatever that exchanged to in pounds, and he went for it. I ran upstairs to change my euros to pounds, and back down to pay what I had. The guy at the Lufthansa counter had billed me 181pounds -- but I had only 165, so it was another back and forth from ticket counter to cash counter and he corrected the overweight to 17kg, and I could pay, boom. The last thing the old guy said to me was "They probably won't let you on with that bag (with the cymbals), though. See you in 10 minutes." A burly security dude escorted me upstairs to the front of the line, as I had to go quickly. I got aboard, and the rest is history. I then got lost in the Frankfurt airport, but made final boarding....  Miraculously, every last bit of the baggage arrived to Berlin, and I made it home by midnight. Whew!

So there's no need to pick up any baggage at Heathrow.
Ahh

Happy Holidays,
Taylor Savvy

As the christmas pudding rolls ever closer to the plate and the thoughts of buying dad that new diary start solidifying thought of the new year are not far away.
Where will you be in May 2009? Looking ahead to a rainy summer, wondering which UK festival might skirt the downpours and actually deliver the magic and musics? Or will you be joining me and a sweet crew as we live it up on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast staying at a sleek 5 star hotel looking forward to a week of guaranteed blissed out good times?  hmmm... tough one

check it out...

It's hard not to feel a little sick passing the huge, lonely looking neon E in the corridor as a cold Helsinki wind whips through the arena… I'm blaming it on the sea legs and drumsticks… chicken legs and sea sticks that is. Yep…We're back in dry land and the warm glove of catering. There's something happening here… but we don't know what it is.

Something's different today.

Word is the clock is a bitch. The Elton crew has only 6 hours left before doors. In that time they have to build a wall, a tower and a spaceship. They tell us we wont even get a sound check … that's ok.

Right now, petty things like the way the soya milk is curdling in the coffee trouble me. Looks like breadcrumb soup as we read more of the bad News from Mumbai. The letter E is looking just as lost as ever. This really isn't such a big production we're told. Henry is the boss of production. He explains that this crew is a good size. Manageable. There are some shows that sprawl out of control. Madonna is mentioned. I think of Elton.

We've found food and a whole lot of hockey paraphernalia. It's pucking cold and we're all a little spun out after 16 hours on the Viking liner. As the coffee sets in, news hits that the big man wont be showing up tonight. It was off, then it was on … but this time it looks like that E is going back in the truck. Looks even more lonely now…

We don't know where we're going: certainly not on stage. Shame… we were gonna try something new tonight too…

When a show is cancelled it's like the worker bees have readied the hive but the queen isn't coming home…no honey tonight...get well soon Elton!!

The Worker Bees Have Readied The Hive...

 

Ah! A rare moment of sun out here in space. Crisp as quentin out there this morn. After the bus air this is like gulping down the Swiss Alpine oxygen.  They tell us we have arrived but its clear that Hamburg is still a galaxy far far away from this place. The color line arena. Its like we are in a huge empty vessel a superfluous bowl of something and we've got a small spoon..

Our crew grab laptops and bunker down around the perimeter of the arena. They all blue into one it appears. We could be in Munich right now. Birmingham maybe. The security give it away through. There's one or two fellows that must be hamburgers. Not meat heads. Something more destinguished but solid none the less. They are light on the garnish here though. There's always an unmistakable directness about the German way. All  that Meat and no pickles sometimes leaves English etiquette in a jam. Speaking of which. I smell. I smell home cooking.  Its a food heavy tour this so far. We are trying to cram in as much high end catering as we can before the long hauls overland with a bus entertainment system full of bond flicks. The word is that they've overcooked the beef today but the cookies are Amazing. Crunchy butter I ask?

Its noisy in the food room.   A whole lot of knives, forks and bottles and spoons. On stage its all about slapping wood and plucking nickel, honking in brass. I think of how strange it is to make music with wood and steel it sort of puts me off the shrimps. But only for a second. I'm wearing a generous slab of Scotland today in woolen form. Its the one you see here in soundcheck. Louder than the pa and warmer than toast. Can't believe I'm still hungry. ...

We started counting the seats. Adding up the number of utilitarian moulded scarlet plastic chairs in one ring of birminghams NIA. Phil used a logic to deduce the numbers. I guess it like the number of beans in a jar. Maybe I'm not hungry or Its simply that its more than meets the eye. What Looked to me like 5000 was more like 12000 so maths tells us. Maybe its just that we are not used to these places Elton frequents. The big time. This is it! Its a hell of a stage. The whole thing looks like a huge dark slide. Imagine looking downhill on black ice that's slanted just enough to let you push a snowball and watch it tumble into a snowman. I feel a pang of guilt as my clunky souls scuff the slightly sticky sheer black vinyl surface. A floor so shiny you can steel a glance at the formidable lighting rig ovehead as you reach to tie your laces.

We are surrounded by technology here in this hanger like hall. Its an all tech affair.  Some high some low. Behind us is the largest LED wall imaginable. A.  concentrated gaggle of leatherman clad tough techie type are manning the controls under the stage in what looks like a scene from a bond flick. There's all this high technology flashing around and also an incongruous and slightly daunting looking fold of flacid pink sacking dangling from the rafters. I'm told its an udder. This is really a mega production. From the 3 courses for dinner to the all you can eat Elton sonic buffet. It feels like we are slipping into a well oiled machine. So far though we are feeling like we are sticking out pretty hard! Outside there are 20 trucks and inside enough workers to construct a pyramid. It boggles the mind. Also explains why we are all giggling like idiots in this place. I look back to see the band all in a line stood on a riser. Looking like scruffy superheros. Its like vertigo on laughing gas. We are opening for a legend.

I get a tap on the shoulder. Word is Elton is ready for me. I feel ready too there's little whelm in me to over if you catch my drift. Its a perfectly manageable affair. I'm led down various nondescript corridors to a draped doorway. Eltons hounds greet me. 2 Soft companions and the big man himself. He's hanging in one corner of a leather sofa his feet up. Looking very relaxed in a shiny black Adidas tracksuit, rose tinted glasses and some serious emerald like raw stones from each ear. Here, I think to myself is a man completely content living his own legend. Its the kind of presence that is utterly disarming and I find myself chatting with the man as if we were already friends. I was not in the room with him for long and yet we covered a lot of ground. We established that I'm not Irish. That timbaland is a very shy guy that makes singers cry. That celine Dion is a indeed as I suspected. ... A paranoid maniac that travels with 8 doctors. She cancels shows as the sligtest hint of sickness. There's a playful hate in eltons voice as he tells it like he sees it. Its very real. The f bomb slips in. Eltons your manager pops in with pictures from a hotel elton is gonna stay at in brazil. The big man is very matter of fact. He mocks mildly at how it looks like a convention centre. His only concern is if it has a decent comfy bed. Serious down to earth one to one with the rocket man. I leave feeling respected and in the mood to make a little legend out of myself up on that stage.

I break the news to the band that Elton insisted we play longer tonight. Somehow by the time I got back out there, from the cave and the corridors of fame, the stage had changed or we had changed. At that moment I knew we were gonna be alright up there. I think about how piano means quiet on a musical score as a walk onto the black vinyl. A huge red piano looking like the loudest accoustic instrument in the west. My monitor engineer points out the piano is called nikita. Its all falling into place. This ones for you birmingham.

a word ...

Entrainment - what IS it?
well it's defined in a fair few ways. This type is not Air 
entrainment or the intentional creation of tiny air bubbles in 
concrete but better defined like this:

entrainment = the ability to change your own life-pulse in response 
to somebody else's. (this one comes from Ben Ratliff .. see him 
talking here.)

Now, entrainment is a new word for me but clearly I've lived with it 
as a road reality and a musical reality and it hangs in the heart of 
my inner raver.. the raver that doesn't want to die. Anyone who's 
been in synch has felt it. I guess it's like a kind of belonging too 
but there's a science to it. It's a brain thing... studied, and 
somewhat understood. On a certain level it seems it can be compelled 
into being..or at least brain WAVE activity can be synced to a kind 
of clock that's generated by a kind of byproduct of perception.  This 
might be a contentious way of putting it but the use of binaural 
beats, monaural beats, and isochronic tones is an odd thing to me 
(you'll have to look these words up). Not so much of a buzz. Bit of a 
cold buzz. They seem to be used as way to induce a meditative state. 
Pulling the like a boat on a still lake.. calming the chaos of the 
brain activity and focusing it into something regular for the sake of 
FEELING what that's like... I guess that's not so bad.

...anyone?

Welcome!

Those who care to dip they're minds, like toast, into the soft boiled egg of this blog should be prepared to add their own seasoning.
For my part, I'll try not to overcook it. Nothing I hate more than an overcooked egg.

Along with the eggs, I'll try and share some tasty whee gems and oddities that have fallen my way, perhaps the odd reflection even..I'll try not to overcook it though.  I'll try and share things that have caught eye, ear or/and my minds ear. All that.  There'll be links... the obligatory youtube links and all that good stuff.

Think of this as a bunch of mails from a distant pal. Sometimes they might just be a line long. little bit of feel good.... I got my lyrics to live!
I'll try and keep my end of the bargain and not slip off the map completely. You just bring the pepper OK?

My voice might get replaced by capable others as things go on...see I'm rolling with a hell of a band right now, they have strong voices and can cook all kinds of omelets and stuff, so expect a post from them too.

They already have sent evidence to this site.. some of you may have been introduced to various edible antics of the road. There's more of that to come.

Any road... before I overcook it on the first post
Welcome!

Here's the video for upcoming single 'Another Day' - directed by Timothy Saccenti.

As well as being the first track on 'Jim', 'Another Day' will be released in a package alongside a bunch of new material and remixes, full info coming soon.

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Jamie's merch store is coming soon.