right it

1 2 3 (To the wonderful person, who claimed to listen to all of the songs, the 3rd one was probably posted earlier, don't worry about that one)

And, as James Murphy said: "Oh, I don't know, oh, where to begin".

While checking Wikipedia for the correct name of the guy, I found out that he recorded most of the instruments for albums. And I thought Greenwood and Tiersen were special, haha:

James Murphy – vocals, drums, bass, percussion, claps, organ, programming, drum machine, synths, guitar, effects, keyboards, piano, clavinet, wurlitzer piano, snaps, omnichord, vocoder

Jesus, and he also writes the fucking music.

So, I might begin with the the concert. Or the soundcheck, yes. I go on the stage and realize my amp is a piece of shit, my mic is electrocuting me when I touch it with my lip and there's no power cable to the keyboard that I haven't seen in my life and have no idea how to work with. The soundcheck goes just how good you'd think it can go with these conditions.

So I started to drink the wine early.

And I was not the only one by a long shot, some douchey drunk teen was thrown out half an hour after the guests started to come.

The back stage is filled with a giggling girl-band talking in Estonian about drinking, dope and whatnot, while me and Margus (bass) stand in the fucking darkest corner and eat our Rimi-bought food.

***

First two bands finish playing and some asshole is hyping up Sander (vocals/guitar/organizer of the whole event etc.), even though we are not quite ready. I go on the stage and realize that the shitty amp is silent. what. switch on. no light. what. "SANDER" "What?" "IT'S NOT WORKING" "WHAT". Everything is delayed, while we set up another amp - yet another piece of equipment I've never tried, oh jolly.

Minor errors, but every song flies by, I hardly see the audience and thank god that the songs are so easy. Except for drums, I've no idea what others are doing, since my monitors are sky-high.

"Which is the next one?"
"Jet."
But that's the last one, what the hell? So I take a gulp of wine roughly the size of a small pond and pick up the tambourine.

And while there was nothing new in the performance that I had not experienced in rehearsals, I am now convinced I'll never sing that song again in such setting. Disappointing, honestly. Two years ago, my vocal range was so much narrower, thus the song was actually forced out - not unlike the original. But today I think that my first go at it was so much more valuable than this one, even though this band is on a whole different level.

Only positive feedback, people considered us to be headliners, encore.
Wine, vodkacoke, conversations, smokes, taxi not coming, cold as fuck, hitchhike to center.

I might have missed some parts, but I think we ended up in Hell Hunt drinking Latvian beer, just my likable hispter Lithuanian and me, then went to this weird place, and I have no clue what was the name or location, because at that point the starts were spinning and, you know how that goes.

So we end up somewhere upstairs, where a 30-something woman approaches me with some great pick-up lines, like: "Your hair is so soft and beautiful and brown," and "What the fuck is with those pimples, your face is so ugly," while her other Estonian friends tell me she's "a fucking nutcase" and tell her to "shut the fuck up". In the midst of all that, I find a 29-year old first grade teacher (maths, Estonian, hand-works, all the bunch), who also plays the flute, so I invite him to a band that is currently in the idea stage. Could be worse.

A dinner at 3 am next to the train station, and I fall down in the bed of a girl who seems rather interesting, even though she is thousands of kilometers away while I make this judgement - the typical student table completely covered with alcohol bottles as if an installation, weird quotes on the wall, a broken bottle as an ashtray, generally strange shit.

And a super fast wrap of this blog entry, since it's only like 7 hours till my lesson and I need to sleep, wash, eat, write an email begging for money, pack and, ah.

I wake up, write a blog post on the only available computer without Latvian characters, edit it through phone, go to a fancy restaurant, have the best lunch since Latvia, buy whisk(e)y, lime, coke, get more drunk with Vytautas, go to pick up my lost glove, have tea with a Finn whose sole wish is to have an insecure eagle, run to the filming location, help people, get a car directly to my house, and I just realized that I still have one uncovered topic - the BFM party. But, seriously, no, let me sleep for once.

Pictures, though:

I know I posted this today in the linked blog entry already, but I love it, so deal with it.

This cat was found in the weird apartment. Oh, and if I figure out what to do about the nonexistent shower, I'll live there as well.

From the set today. We might have played too much with the fog machine. "Why would a women like that just walk calmly in a burning house?"