This happened a couple o' months ago, but I feel like writing about it now, being midnight and all, in the spirit of MUSIC! We're TIMELESS anyway ...
I went to visit my friend Sven Von Zülow, a great trombone player and an incredible person. He the real deal. First time I saw him, he was driving a true blue Trabant down cobblestone streets, but that was a long time ago. Hadn't seen him in 2 years! Last time I helped him tear down some walls (Thank you, Ronald Reagan) so he could re-doo his farm. (Thank you, Willie Nelson.) He called me the "Mighty Nail Breaker." I was swinging a pick-ax at concrete, tearing down un-wanted bunker-style rooms, and breaking nails in half. We put a sheen on that mothah - fixed that ol' place up good as new, you'd never know no mo' that it was ancient. So we got together this time around, looked at photos and had a laugh. (Lübzer-burp!) He always tells me those stories from the (velvet) revolution, which I love. Listen intently, like a song. We took a break from all this fun and chaos, and headed over to his barn. Firewood, spiders, creaky old beams, holy rafters. He asked me if I could give him some money to fix the holes in the barn roof, it'd cost about 40 thousand euros. "Sure," I said, "Sometime in the future ... why not?" Dunno who started first, but we began thumping on this old camper-trailer parked in the corner, in perfect musical rhythmn. I started playing "drums" on the tin top plateau, with an occasional tink-tink on the wheels. He started playing "bass" (with amazing precision!) on the bungey-cord straps holding everything into place, ba-doom-ba-boom. Sounded just like the walking bass line on "These Boots Are Made For Walking." Right in tune. Sang out loud, "And that's just what I'll do!" We started laughing, this went on for almost an hour! We'd created an entire nu-jazz orchestra, just from the things we found in that ol' barn. We were beating on everything. Horse saddles, door latches, wood, plastic, metal, earth. Oh, the sounds! Yeah, what started out as just a little beat-treat turned into a full-blown extendo song jam! Man, that was cool, a biggety beat beat and a trippy blue mood. Just the two of us ... (We can make it if we try.) Barnjam.
Later, a german fighterplane flew over, interrupting the peaceful summer afternoon. (Damn this new war!) We both jumped to our feet, revealing remnants of our east/west military past. Soon the low-flying bird was gone, though, and we settled back in to our frivolity, making new jokes like, "Oh, it's the austrians' fault!" and other random zany social commentary. Sven, you're the best!
(He actually saved the life of a girlfriend of mine's father, when he fell off his bike and cracked his skull open on those same dusty cobblestone streets. Sven got pappa to the doc. He's a lifesaver.) Took that girl out to Sven's place, on another fine summer day, and we were in love. (Me 'n' Sven.) There's nothing stronger than the bond of musicians, I tell ya. She's beautiful, tell ya that, too. Took her to the Love Farm (hey, I like that!) and this was BEFORE they stole our fucking car. As the two of them walked together over to the barn, I thought that THEY made a good pair, actually, and I realized that I would give him everything. That's how much I think of him. As a musician, and as a man. Maybe you should marry that girl, Sven. I can't give her what she needs. She thinks I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one! "I hope someday they'll join us, and the world can live as one." (Thank you, John Mellancamp.) I'm livin' outside the box. She deserves someone responsible. You're a rock-solid "hold the fort" daddy-o, Sven, and I'm a party freak, on a mission to change the world. Do you understand how much I admire you?? Peace. -Todd
Posted by calico at October 02, 2005 03:09 PM