April 20, 2004

Yodel Back, Young!

Tender roni's of the blog wilds.
I would say I missed yuh, but I was busy rolling deep through Belgium and the bordertowns of Deutcheland, smoking a pack a day, staying up for 40 hours in a row unaided by caffiene or bigger guns, seeing awesome Swedish hip-hop on the nightly, watching girls squirm in the shadow of themselves in the front row of shows - adjusting bras as performers step to the lip of the stage - just like in America, getting terrific use from the lil iPod (lulled half concious on a nine hour flight this a.m. by "Taking it to the Streets" on repeat b/w Closer Musik "Maria" -- nothing takes the knots from the brain like jesus-love smoove funk and the dark chiarascuro of minimal german techno, while watching Mona Lisa Smile for the third time in a week, supplanting dialogue with Dusty In Memphis).

Also, I saw all kinds of hot new looks in yodel-pants. I saw packs of teenage german girls arm in arm, strolling through the mall'd streets of Dortmund, young men ( not holding hands) fake tanned and heavily roughed with faux hawks with hands resting on the top ass of young girls missing girlfriend hand-holders. I ate Nutella twice. I slept barely and talked a lot. I talked about the history of Swedish jazz fusion and tried to explain how Chicago has a long history of voting fraud and that Harold Washington was our last great American leader -- and was asked about Hillary for pres. American college girls are twice as loud in Europe, because everyone is twice as quiet. I saw one of the best shows of my life in Tourcoing France, at least the most hilarious -- 37 people representing for indie hip hop: Old people dancing riverdance jigs in front of the stage and screaming "Maestro: music!" in between every song/the scaggiest pepe le peu french dude stereotype at the show with his date the hottest girl in the whole town who was wearing fishnets, an outfit the size of a dinner napkin and a belt and dancing like she was working last shift at the Boom Boom Room East/ the other 31 persons at the show seemed like they had been bussed in from an alternate vortex entirely.

I have not slept in 19 hours right now, so more will come at some point,, right now I'm not hyperlinking shit.

Thanks to Miles for holding down the pony barn while I did the cha-cha slide in the Black Forest.

Also, end of this week will be the start of the Hopper In Motion tour-diary. 3.5 weeks on the road, bass in hand, me and 24 dudes in black hoodies. Holy shit, all the way, little darlins.

Posted by Jessica at April 20, 2004 04:42 PM | TrackBack