Day 20

2 gigs later: This morning I wake to realize that I have 3 daze off and can do what the hell I want, so I set up my wind shell @ 7:30 AM. Too early for both bakeries that are locate on my way because it is Sunday. The tide is receeding and the beach is deserted for miles and miles, in the distance a kayaker has set up his tent, sent the nite, and later he rows into the surf and heads south. Sand bars are popping up all over the beach and I do my morning stretches on this luxurious platform. after a cold water swim. I can dig this for 3 daze. Then I play the BBQ am Meer on the south side of this Island, enjoy a few more daze off before heading west to Holland and the Lenerocker and Birgits Festival.

Day 19

My ears are filled with the rush of wave upon wave, first the rumble and then small almost silent breath and then the thublike splah of the wverturned crest flopping into the surf. Before me is the North sea, the eastern most reaches of this body of water. My feet are tingling in the warm sand and though the wind is up and a blanket of grey blue and white
clouds convoy the sky, it is pleasant and typical of this region´s ever
changing weather patterns. Yesterday had me gasping in the heat of a clear blue sky and a waveless ocean. Though SPF 40eed and protected by a cool contraption called the
wind shell, I still didn´t enjoy it as much as today. The water remains cool to cold, but there is hardly the crowd that appear on postcard days. The very next day the beaches are packed and I drive further south to the secluded-Hunde Strand, where the locals bring their dogs to romp, fly kites and have room to airobat and wind surfers gracefully bounce from
wave to wave.

It is going to be a hard 12 daze and 4 gigs but this is my yearly ritual on European tour with one exception...for the first time in 7 years-I am alone. Unsettling as this is, I am the extreme adaptor and after 3 sleepless nights I am still up every day, early and at em swimming, yoga tai chee, sleep in the wind shell and read and comtemplate the future.
What do I nee, want and still expect from life. I need some kind of stability and fiscal responsibility, I wand 2 years off to write screenplay, books and more music. I can expect to continue much in the same vein of high debt and frantic reshuffling of interest rates, selling
off assets, and reaching every deadline by the seat of my 36´´ waisteling, which doesn´t fit me anymore since i am scultping a swimmers build. Wait a minute, >I feel great, I look reasonably well for 54, relaxed and my playing constant and inovative. How do you measure your success? By what you need, wand and can expect. Health and peace of mind do account for a hell of a lot.

Day 17

But first, how about a Grill Teller Fuer Zwei Personen @ the local greek restaurant. Me and Horsti burp our way through a couple of beers and a plate of olives and an order of Ztatziki...brilliant. By then the meal arrives...chops, steaks, shishkabobs, meatloafs, giros, ect...Tonight we sleep like shieks! Now it is off to a computor to record this into the
wb-we are helping Waltraut clean up her Daddy´s appartment ´to be abp8it two hours of typing and my head aches and my stomach is way too full-so let´s not hear any complaints about spelling and grammer and choice of words.

An author must accept his reat´s critique graciously and without malice-kiss my ass. Gee I never thought keeping a journal could be so enlightening!

So Felix and I meet in Wuerzburg, run through some tunes and realize that it will all come back with a vingence. We arrange 2 sets of 90 % origenal music and head off to the Italian Bistro before we drive off south 260 Klicks. Destination...Muenchen or Munich, auf English, to play the lengendary Rattlesnake and Oklahoma saloons. First night, first set , first song- I feel loose, vamping and Jamming away to a honkey tonk beat with Felix slamming away on his stand up bass. We exchange looks of confidence and delight and proceed to murder the audience fro the next 3 hours. We also worked out some rough patches, harmonies and tricky chord changes so that next nights gig @ the Rattlesnake-the larger and important
of the two-we can play in terms of complete anialation! Musically it is a jopy to interact with Felix slapping rythms and harmonic flowing bass lines. Personally he is a prince among men and I gave him a brand new set of Monster cables to prove it.

Day18

Second gig-Rattlesnake Saloon. Felix and i warm up with a swinging jam in D. My 12 string dances around his bass runs, weaving a musical spell, syncapating notes in a truely funky rythem that peaks to a screaching halt and we break into our first song. It is a great way to warm up. We proceed into several origenal songs and slip into a couple of instrumental peices-first a bluegrass piece that has a great breakdown featuring alternating guitar and bass fills, where we loosely answer each other back and forth. The highlights of our first set is a spanish flavored instrument splashing with wild interplay. The audience is spellbound. I open the next set alone with-Pancho and Lefty and after a medley from Silver Dreams and Gypsy Soul we peak with a rousing 20 minute version of Sultans of Swing. Just as the song is about to end I begin playing several Venture hits in a row A wild Orange Blossom Special and Ghost Riders are our encore and before we tear down the EQ I grab great steak and Baked potato.

Food and Music is always the combintation to keep my psychie going and in tact. Felix is off to Switzerland to play in a 19 piece Las Vegas Elvis Revue anmd I spend a couple of daze with Waltraut and her kids and Grandchild, enjoying the more mel´low aspectzs of Munich. They live in the south side of the city that is disected by a beautiful river basin. The Iser @ this point the waters are split into several channels. One is used by Kajakers and floyts with rapids and furious water features. Another channels the water through small power plants and water treatment staions. The wide river loops through the city in a very natural setting. Wide banks along which several paths and even roads on topo of a high river banks there are several lakes and parks and even a golf course and playgrounds, not to mention beer gardens every couple of minutes. In the heat of the summer the entire city comes out here to lay in t6he sun and grill sausages, walk, jog, bike and relax in an environment that hardly lets on that a massive city surrounds the river. In the south end it is
quite wild and natural as the river flows north, it begins to take a more English garden look. I would love to live here some day @ least a couple of months a year. Winters in Brazil and SApring and Fall in Seattle.

Day 16

After two daze of complete R & R @ my mom´s house-have I told you about this place where I grew up from the 5th to the 12th?

About a half a klick down the road from and around one klick up from...a 17th Century Hunting Palace lodge set in the Beech woods and a 8th Century Castle ruin with about 1/2 a moat and Ivy crawling up to 30 meters or more! My mom´s house is on a 12 house street across from the Linden Farm. I grew up picking potatoes in fall and pulling sugar beets in late summer. I also spent a lot of time in the woods surrounding the compound of the four story mini Rocaco Palace. It is called Schloss Philipseich, which would put it in the same catagory as King Ludwigs fantasmorgasmic 11 room drem neverland-and used for the same purposes as MJ!- castle in Bavaria. But no, the original purpose of Philipseich-eich means...oak-has always been hunting, riding and agriculture. To this day, in various extents this still threives. Off to the west of the walled compound-including a Smithie, barns, storage, stables and admin sections, as well as a tiny chapell-still active, 18:00 hours on Saturdays- the woods roll out in all directions.

Through what could be described as it´s center, is a raised hill that traverses about 1/2 a mile and is considered to be a Hun grave site. Partly excavated and revealing artifacts from the Hun Aristocracy, shown in local museums, most of these hills are still in tact and provide great views within the canopy of the forest.

Beside these ancient Beech trees, where an exavation left behind a ring of ground, and where generations of saplings fail to get a grip-I have a special place. When I am @ my mom´s, I get up early and walk by the farm and up a paved agriculture road past fields and fields of wheat, towards the Hunde Platz-dog compound-, the Tennis Platz and Foosball field and then an etensive stable with horses, then I turn right to Dreieichenhain-a beautiful medevil village with that befor mentioned 8th century castle-@ the edge of the woods, I go west again along old paths coverred in pine needles, old beech shells and stuff that falls in the woods. many avenues are spectacular in the shade of a hot summer morning. Always shielded from the wind and quiet except for nature. After another 4 Klicks I turn south toward Langen and East again to home but I have a parrellel route that leads me on horse paths up hill toward offenthal and circle around to this quiet knoll where I stretch myself Yoga style and breath in the naturally filtered sweet fporest air.

Perched up here under these towering Beech trees, I see sprawling underbrush in Late spring of bright green planzts that will barely make it through the summer. Carpets of fallen leaves litter the wood floor. As I brace myself in a back stretch and lean forward, I see a patch of deep dark green moss, surrounded nby a whirlpool of Ivy. Some of both of these were transplanted by me on rainy hikes where i reached down and took a heaping helping along to this place where I could appreciate it´s richness in a meditative state. After stretching and arching my limbs, I stand on one leg @ at time, then I lean forward hoding my breath for the count of ten, work out extensively on my arms and hands by rotating them in semi circles in a Tai Chi pattern as well as extending my arms back as i lean over-this particular move is vital and dailey since it counteracts the aches and pains that go along with being the worlds most violent 12 string acrobat. The same guy who doesn´t warm up in a 2 hour set and can not quit when it is closing time- An old habit I acquired back when the competition was so rough that you hardley even took a break or you would loose your audience.

I close my eyes and relax into a sea of bliss, my eyes become clean and the white parts shine, out goes the reddness of the previous nite gig. I try to align all my vertibraes by standing in a perfect Tai Chi gravity pose.

Slowly I walk down th knoll and through the woods, I then either continue down this green boulevard glade to the lodge and walk back along the highway or I go my first choice path-cut through the trees and across this open field, along a line of wild plum trees, two ditches and a massive pile of straw and cow poop, and over a dirt road back to my mom´s.This can take 45 minutes to 2 hours plus depending on my schedule, plans and commitments. Ahh, a day in the ligfe! Needless to say, it is a very pleaant, recupperative and it helps me enjoy and withstand the rigors of road work-the hard part is yet to come-tommorow, off to Muenchen with Felix the Stryay Cat Stand Up Bassist

Day 15

France, Alsace Lorraine or in European--Elsas, the eastern region , south of the Battle Fields of Verdun. Rolling hills of corn, wheat and tobacco and small villages unchanged since before Napolean, hidden between great wooded areas of Mountains and hills called the Volgeses-remember my song-Steppenwolf. Along a narrow river valley by a railroad line snaking back and forth deep into the heart of this beautiful area.

We are guests of the Burgermeister-Mayor-of a small village-2000 folks- called Tetingen. maybe the one place in France where they appreciate the Americans coming over the hills , kicking the Bosches Butt back in 1944, as well as in 1917 in the trenches north of here. High noon and the fire grill is raging into a charcoal ember that will broil our smoiked pork chops into perfection. I start with a Rose-you know light red- wine-because it is early , windy and a little cold untill I play some music. I decide to perform some totally different music and songs, instrumentals different than usual because I need a break from my standard list to gain new inspiration and right away I am inspired by a sweet Madamoiselle who looks me into the eyes and reveals to me that the truth does not come from the words out of my mouth, but from the content of my eyes. I love it!

Say it with your eyes and keep your mouth shut. Great concept!

To the food-after a small course of desert cake and bittersweet chocolate, a SUV pulled up along the orchard of the back yard and a guy about the size of Fred Flintstone started breakin´boards with his bare hands and shoving ém into the portable oven on wheels. Once the temp was up and glowing, he proceeded to paddle these dough flats with Bacon, onions, and mushrooms in a lite cream sauce...pizza style, into the oven.

This is called Flamkuchen-flame cake. And the other variety has a tomato based sauce and pepperoni, more like the actul Pizza. But the bread part is extremely thin and baked @ extreme high temps for maybe 3 to 5 minutes. Swilling down ,endless freshly baked slices with a grand red wine from this regions is pure extasy!

The regular guests would enhance their buzz with shots of currant brandy and mirabellen snaps. I had accumulated quite a buzz and played some real obscure stuff as well as songs I always wanted to try out. Why not @ a party of French, Dutch and German folks who were in too good a mood to be critical. After my best wishes and lots of cheek kissing it was off to bed. Besides there were these two Django Gypsy guitarists who took over in style, lamenting away in beautiful nylon string spirit.

Day 14

Sometimes a day off can be so revializing and refreshing that I can hardly wait for the next ralley of gigs. This past one, was easy--first I played a small pub in Stu-

ttgart called--Schurwalde, met an entirely new audience and played a well balanced show of original and covers. Cajon Icon, Emil Zielinger quested. Accomidations weosere 30 K´s out of town, but well worth it when we were able to sleep in! Have breakfast @ 11:30 AM and be surrounded by a farming community with beautifull fields, grape vines and parking in an actual Orchard. Later that day, the contrast could not have been heavier, checking into the Mercur, luxury suite, room 414, on the 4th floor penthouse, across from the Mineral Spas.....which I immediately visited. That nite we played on a riverboat on the Nekar River for the Horiba Corp.Annual Dinner.

Great weather and fantastic scenery, food...but the gang plank was right out of Pirates of the Carribean and I had to schlep the JBL Eon series speakers (40Lbs. ea.) ect...

The next morning I slept in, breakfasted and back to the spa for some more pampering, laps and a whirlpool therapy! What I really liked were these water spouts that jet stream an funnel of water that can massage your back and bones over my elbows, arms, hands, and fingers and help me recuperate from 30 years of grueling 12 String Guitar.

Next day I walked 10 K to the next town from my Mom´s house to Langen Public pool and field and I am writing this under a tree. But the ants are a bit too active for my literary endevours.

Day 10

As I find myself diligently plodding through an overwelming tour schedual, never would I say that one gig is exactly like another. Audiences, venues, and traveling situations change constantly in Europe and where I can once enjoy the ambience of a Pub with a closely packed group of music lovers, the next performance is on a well lit stage in pard, linked to a square in the center of a town. With trees in the foreground of an old church and a cobblestoned marketplace crowded with families, old timers, and revelers well lit themselves on beer and applewine.

On this particular night we do two sets of music followed by a great display of fireworks. Summer has come early and quite balmy, too. My side kick, fiddler Ralf, has already joined me for 5 concerts and I can tell folks are quite impressed withthe dueling instumental interplay that is fast becoming our trademark. Last week, Ralf said he had a previous commitment that Friday with an old flamenco guy at the Alte Oper in Frankfurt. No problem, I did the Posthaus in Kronberg solo. The next night when I asked Ralf how it went he said-This guy form Cuba was very accomidating about the rehearsal and offered him a choice of five different Rum sorts from his specially built fight cast-How about a cigar? He coughed a lot, but when the air passages cleared he sang like an angel. So, who are we talking about, Ralf-I ask. Oh, Ibrahim Ferer from the Bueno Vista Social Club fame. A gang of cuban octagenarians that captured the hearts and ears of the world with their killer music they recorded with Ry Cooder. My jaw fell, but I should not have been surprized. Ralf gets around as a star sideman and as part of the Neue Philharmonie Orchestra in Frankfurt who accompany Robin Gibb, Sara Brightman, Chris de Burg, Nena and plenty of other great artists all over Europe.

Do I count my blessing that this virtuoso musician travels 8 hours in holiday traffic to do an early morning show with me at the Dampflok in Hanau. Only to turn around the next day to travel back and finish the tour. @ one gig he brought along his main squeeye, Olga, who also plays voilin in the Orchestra as well as in the Dark Ensemble that surrounds Goth Lord-Max...Chamber! She is pregnant and they are expecting a little Paganini this fall. I love them all tree of them with all my heart.

Day 11

There is another little guy who showed up @ the Buehne im Stall (stage in the Barn) gig, last Monday. Annette and Manfred Flinestone's boy-Maik (pronounced Mike-it's nordic). he grooved , crawled, and gurgled all the way through two sets of my origenal music along with a sold out crowd of fans, old friends and other great weather enthusiasts.

So, that's how it goes, and it goes well, cause here I am in Pullman City, sprawled out in a bunk bed, in this cowboy town of western fans in Eging am See in the Bavarian forest. Tonight I played for a great capacity crowd @ the Black Bison Saloon. During the day I also played a short, sad instumental during the American History show. I chose the song-Greensleeves to commemorate the passing of trick pony rider Peter. he died of an heart attack that morning and they rode in with his riderless horse, my heart jerked offbeat. The Pullman City team has my sympathy and undying loyalty. look for a link to their site!

Tommorow, I'm on the roed to their sister park in the Harz Mountains-Pullman City II, in Hasselfelde. Five hours northwest for another series of gigs. the road is calling.

Day 12

Wow, what a great breakfast! The menu actually said-Ham and Eggs...3 sunnyside uppers on top of a mass of sliced Bavarian Ham, coffee and a broetchen for 3.80 Euros (about $4.20) not bad for a truck stop. as I was pouring pepper all over this concoction, I sneezed and was promptly Gusundheited by the chimney sweep across the room. When I thanked him I explained that we use the very same expression in the states. He aked me how do we say-Schornsteinfeger in English and if he could get a lot of work in the US? He explained that in Germany, law dictates regular cleanups schedualed for all chimney in the entire land....whether you want it or not.

Back in Pullman City, befor I drove off, I had a chat with lasso expert and trick rider, Joseph pelz, a Hungarian cowboy, for whom I recorded a 12 minute spanish Guitar instrumental peice to use in his show. We collaborated on the arrangement and the pöossible addition of castinets and spur sounds as well as some trumpets to enhance the piece. Then he gave me his regard fro Black Leo, his counterpart in PC II.

I intend to make a stop in Erfurt (4 and 1/2 hours) to drop off some Natural Peanut butter from the states to Wolle and his clan, who crave it like other people wish for a sane government and a non aggresive oil policy. Last night I made some comments on the possiblity that Congaleeza Rice must surely be a virgin. Not as funny as the new joke supplied by my head gag writer, Nicol, a third grader from Dreieich, Germany.-These 2 six year olds are playing when one says to the other-Yesterday I saw a condum on the Veranda. the other says-What`s a Veranda? Good stuff and right up my intellect level. She get one euro royalty every time I use one of her jokes. Double when used in the internet...Last year`s tour joke that she supplied went roughly translated-What do you call a Cowboy with out a horse...a saddle schlepper (double meaning a semi that hawls a trailor). yeh, I know but it was funny in German...and she was a second grader back then. Have you heard enough? Well, I`ve got 300 more klicks to go ( that is kilometers over hee) and road break is now over.

Day 13

While it is obvious that my Journal is not being edited for polical content and definitely not edited for grammer aned a spellchecker (wouldn`t work in English on a German keyboard, due to Windows inoperations, by the way the Z is switched with the Y...try to get used to that!) So. By letting my free associated thought process flow unencumbered by logic, restraint, or higher learning, I will sometimes let loose with some real witasisms that I later roll my eyes over. But never the less, keeping a Journal is a great way to express deep seated paranoic skitzoipfrenic pet peeves.-such as...SPEED DEMONS!

The average German spends his life totally under the thumb of society. First in school and then into the work force where even liberal vacation time , holidays and a realative high standard of living create a steadfast but highly repressed individual who needs an outlet to even the kell, so to speak. Within a short distance from any German town is a phenomenon called the Autobahn.

Here is a country cabable of desining and manufacturing even a diesel engine that can exceed speeds of 180 MPH and where the average housefrau`s VeeDub can zip to the store zero to sixty in 4 seconds. So when they get the chance to hit the highway it is truely survival of the fastest, leanest vehicles. No whimps allowed. Unlimited speed restrictions usually exsist away from Urban areas and only where there are at least 3 lanes but there are plenty of places to peddle the metal to the floor and cruise 100 MPH plus for long peroids of time. This is all well and good since the average driver is well trained and does not engage in American driving activities such as Blasting the radio, eating a burger, filing down hangnails, telephoning, applying makeup and reading a newspaper, all @ the same time.

As a matter of fact the best way to drive here is in full concentration, keeping one eye on the open road ahead and the other in the mirror in case some more highly developed species of car is breathing down your trunk wanting free passage. They let you know what they think of your car being in the way by flashing thier light or subtlely putting on their blinker to the left, in the left lane (no one ever passes on the right here). If that doesn`t work they will inch their bumper to your back liscence plate and take an imprint. By then you will at least have noticed a glowing red face of the driver who takes it very personal that someone is slowing down their Indy race to the next traffic jam, tow milews up ahead.

Getting out of the way is no problem except for the millions trucks that share the road daily. They are only allowed to go 60 MPH and sometimes even allowed to pass.If you get out of he way and end up behind several of these mamouths you are doomed to a snail pace. Getting back into the left lane can take a while, waiting for an opening and not pulling out in front of a SPEEDING DEAMON:

Now, you may think that in the land of Porches, Audis, BMWs and Mercedes´, these are the most aggressive drivers. Wrong, in my experience it is the VW Passats, with their company lease stickers and a harrassed salesman behind the wheel that shows the least restraint in sane, sportsmanlike driving. The more upper scale drivers have way too mush clas to Neanderthal it, since they are wearing kid gloves, visors and listening to the soothing sexy voice of their Global Positioning navigator! Usually they will take slow pokes in stride, brake off aned then Zoom by you, too indignant to even glance your way or even give you a dirty look.

So. what is my problem? Why do I not just join in on this feeding frenzy of adrenaline thumping, hammer down, temple throbbing race track envy, autobahn free for all. Well, I borrow most of my vehicles over here, and now I am in an old 22 year 190 D Mercedes that mY folks bought new and tenderly cared for all these years. It has 311,653.7 klicks on it and though the brakes are good and cruising 70 MPH is a joy, it can not accelerate in the manner to even stay out of everyone else´s way. So I putz along counting on luck and start off hours earlier than needed take lots of breaks, and show up for the gig relaxed and in good humor.

As a matter of fact I am on an Autobahn reststop as I write this, just to prove the point.

Let the Deamon´s rear their ugly little heads, I have recorded 20 hours on cassestte of NPR´s-Car Talk...Click and Clack, the Tappart Brothers, Ray and Tommy mariozzi. I als have KSER´s Mad Man Mouskavitz playing funny farm faves to keep me laughing in their dust.

Happy trails and all my love from the road...Dave Lee