Low, Europe and Area 2 (part seven)

Finally ... the last installment of the 2002 Bowie saga. Whew. My thanks as always to those who have contributed pictures ...

After we finished the fall European leg, we flew home in early October and took about a week off. First up on the schedule was an early morning appearance on one of those breakfast variety programs, 'Live with Regis and Kelly.' In all honesty this had to be the silliest TV gig ever, and by now that's really saying something. It was just too early in the morning ... we were cloistered in much too small a room ... they screwed up the paperwork ... they had goofy pastries ... everyone working there was exponentially perky, especially for that hour ... there were about 900 chiefs and 14 Indians ... we seemed to be playing knee-deep in velvet ... and, our fellow guests included the Hunks From The Fifty States, or some such nonsense.

I'll stop there.

Still, none of that tomfoolery topped Regis himself. His point of musical reference might end with the Rat Pack, which is fine - so does my dad's - but my dad doesn't host a TV show. Do your homework, Reege! He didn't seem to have a clue who David was, never mind his music. Either that, or he picked the wrong week to switch to Sanka - he didn't seem to recognize his co-host very well, either (props go to Kelly Ripa, who was in fine form as well as a genuine, gushing DB fan). Of all the wack-ass TV shows we've done - and by this point, there have been a fair number of 'em (anyone remember the guys who built a kitchen live on the air during 'Wetten Dass' in '99?) - this had to be the wack-assiest. Mr. Philbin may have taken the cake with his sweeping introduction of 'Changes':

' ... and here he is with his hit 'Big Changes' from the 'Heathen' album, Mr. David Bowie!'

(My dad, bless him, would have mispronounced Bowie's name as 'Boo-eee,' even though I've worked with him for a half-dozen years.)

Once that was handily dispatched we embarked on what could be, in my humble opinion, the greatest tour concept that ever was ... the New York City Marathon Tour. The idea was to play a small gig in each borough of New York City, in rapid succession, beginning October 11th. For the geographically challenged, that would be Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, and Manhattan - in order of performance, not necessarily importance. Given that I love the smaller shows, the band was really cracking by that point, and I could ride my bike to gigs ... I was in hog heaven.

'Big Changes' .... is that your final answer, Regis?

Staten Island was first on the list. Ah, SI ... home of that Staten Island Ferry you've heard tell about ...Willowbrook Park ... Midland Beach ... and, the ever-fragrant Fresh Kills Landfill, one of the largest on the planet and the final resting place of most of NYC's trash.

A massive downpour that afternoon killed any ideas of cycling to the gig, so I took the van with the others. Getting lost on the way in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn would usually set me off, but not this time - we were engaged in hot discussion in the van, about what exactly I don't remember. Gotta love the Verrazano Bridge, once the longest suspension bridge in the world. (Did you know it was going to be a tunnel during the 1940's? Did you care? Does anyone out there even know where Staten Island IS?)

We played at small complex of old buildings called Snug Harbor, which used to be a home for retired merchant seamen ... unless Slick was winding me up, which he has been known to do. (Then again, he doesn't know that when he stays at my house, I swap out the regular coffee for decaf. It's no wonder he needs a recharge by 10:30am). But, I trusted him, being the Staten Island psuedo-native that he is - he was born in Brooklyn but moved to SI when he was 11 or so, cutting his musical teeth in the rock clubs of Bay St. This makes him the resident authority on such hot SI topics as where all the gangsters live, the history of said venue, garbage, etc. Slick had a few of his Staten Island dignitaries in attendance, with colorful names such as 'Rat,' 'Trigger,' and 'Beast' (though I could be wrong about Beast - I think Slick mentioned that he might be in jail, or deceased).

Enough about Slicky already ... he's got his own website.

Snug Harbor was tiny, like a high school auditorium. Yes, I know ... I've made that 'auditorium' analogy before - about the BBC Radio Theatre, I'll betcha - but the Beeb was way more upscale, resembling a high school auditorium only in size. Snug Harbor was eerily reminiscent of an old NYC-area high school auditorium, complete with peeling paint, rickety chairs, and musty smell. Can't you just hear the morning announcements over the crackly, ancient PA system? What it didn't have in fixtures and upkeep it made up for in atmosphere ... it definitely won the marathon on that score. Our dressing room was across the road in what used to be a chapel. The rain was driving so hard (though not in a McCartney way ... how hard would THAT be?) that we needed to be ushered from one building to the next under umbrellas and walk on huge planks of plywood to avoid sinking in mud. A little like Woodstock, but without that Wavy Gravy guy going on about the brown acid.

 

>>> part two of part seven