Furuvik Zoo, Sweden

After five years the Swedish Police welcomed us with their special-but-familiarl brand of hospitality. Marcus got pulled out of line and strip searched all within our first two minutes in Sweden. Police dogs swarmed through the travelers coming and going. I really don’t want to believe that’s business as usual here. Everyone’s got their problems.

Except perhaps for Yared, a Swede and an African, and our good friend, who really welcomed us to Furuvik Reggae Festival. A first class set of bands came through, and he had hot rice & peas, dumplings, and brown stew chicken for all. After our performance, Kim and Jhamiela hung out with Marcia Griffiths in the circus ring that served as our back stage while I grabbed my camera.

Furuvik is famous for its animal park, and it held some strange fascination for me from the moment we arrived. They have some serious rides, and a Disney style-castle, which is always cool, but I was more interested in their chimpanzees. I spent half an hour trying to talk a zoo administrator into letting me take pictures of them.

“They don’t like to be woken up,” She said. “They get very irritable.”  She told me that their alpha chimp, Santino, stockpiles rocks in the morning to throw at the annoying humans who file past his enclosure every day. A Swedish primate scientist made his career telling other scientists about this behavior.

“Sounds dangerous”, I said. “But I’d bet he could pitch a fastball at a hundred and seventy. That’s like 250 kilometers.”

“Luckily, he has bad aim,” she said. She looked nonplussed. Probably most Swedes don’t care much about baseball.

Backstage bowling alley. “Groundation? You’re down by lane 25.”

Furuvik Zoo is not the strangest place we’ve played. We’ve played on boats touring Boston Harbor and the East River, bowling alleys, basketball courts, and the water park formerly known as Wet ‘n’ Wild in Salvador, Bahia. A few days ago we played in a defunct casino in Slovenia.There can be a surreal element to such experiences.  I don’t care, just tell me where to point my trumpet and when to start blowing.

The strangest moment of the tour so far was Freedom Taking Over in Ostroda, Poland. It’s the last song of the set. I’ve got my eyes closed because I’m so into it. I’m waiting to hear Kim, because she sings the part Don Carlos sang on the original recording. The recording of that song marked an important moment in Groundation, like the climax of a chapter in a book, and a kind of musical nexus. If you don’t feel the vibe at that moment, you probably never will. Anyhow, I’m waiting to hear this part and then I  can’t believe I’m hearing the actual voice of Don Carlos. I open my eyes and he’s really there, on stage with us, singing: “Oh yeah, oh yeah now.” And it was snowing in August*.

*If you thought I was tripping that it was snowing in Mid August in Poland, you were right. Apparently some bubble machine broke down and began launching thousands of little floating clusters of foam. I knew it was too good to be true.

Wrocklaw, Poland

The edges of the empire; Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry: on fish and outer space ; Wrocklawbsters; a haunted backstage; The Congos; Dellé; saved by Big Blue.

The River Oder in Poland.

Switzerland is one of the first places I played outside California. That was with the Bay Area Wind Symphony, which was comprised of about one hundred and twenty teenagers, including nineteen trumpets (!), plus their braces and hair products, way back in 1984, before the fall of the Berlin Wall, before the Internet. Our unwieldy, hormone-saturated ensemble played seven classical concerts or so in Germany and Switzerland. It was my first taste of touring, and I had no idea I’d be coming back more than twenty years later, and that so much change would have occurred. I had hoped we’d have flying cars by now, but still…

Lausanne, Switzerland is scrunched between Lake Geneva and the unreal bulk of the Alps, in the beating heart of Western Europe. These vast glaciers spawn the two greatest rivers of the European continent: The Rhine, flowing north through Germany, and the Danube flowing east through Austria and Hungary and finally into the Black Sea. These rivers were once the boundaries of the Roman Empire, the boundaries between civilization and barbarity.

In the fourth century, Germany and Silesia (though they weren’t called by those names back then) were the barbarians, until one winter the impossible happened: the Rhine froze solid, and the barbarians walked right in the front door, goodbye Rome, hello Dark Ages.  Everyone was barbarians for a long time.

Colonialism and war brought huge changes to European demographics in their wake, and Europe has had to learn to cope with both the troubles and the benefits that come with diversity. Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, who shared the bill with Groundation and the Congos at this year’s Metropop Festival is an example of someone from far Jamaica who’s made his home in this mountain paradise in smack in the middle of Europe.  You’d have to ask his neighbors, but I’ll bet he brings a bit of trouble with his gifts…

Lee 'Scratch' Perry; reggae legend, former fish.

In the late sixties and seventies America produced a number of unusual performers like Mr. Perry: outlandish costumes; quirky songs, sometimes with a childlike quality; eccentricities galore. Parliment/Funkadelic/P-Funk frontman George Clinton comes to mind. His claims to have come to this planet in a funky mothership is probably one of the least unusual things about him. At a typical performance, jazz pianist and composer Sun Ra, who claimed to hail from the planet Saturn, draped his considerable bulk in a muumuu and led his eighteen-piece ‘Arkestra’ through three hours worth of music from Disney movies. To cook up a rich culture we need not only people from the different races and religions, we need people from different planets as well. Back in America’s troubled 70’s, a jazz pianist from Saturn may have been just what the world needed. He sure gave the jazz critics something to talk about. And why not different species’ as well? ‘Scratch’ Perry, doesn’t claim to be from the planet Saturn, but he said at the concert that he was a fish before he became a man, so again, let diversity be the rule…

Straight after the show, we drove all night to the One Love Festival in Wrocklaw, Poland in the old kingdom of Silesia, once the very heart of the barbarian threat which gave the Romans nightmares. It’s the doorstep of The East, once a land of warriors and a land of war. It’s also fiercely independent, stubborn even. It was fatally wedged between aggressive powers during the twentieth century and nearly eradicated, but despite being carved up and stomped on, the Polish people rose up and made Poland one of the first nations of the former Eastern Bloc to stand up against Soviet imperialism and for social justice in their own country.

Centennial Hall, named for the anniversay of Napoleon's defeat in Silesia, 1813.

I like to blab about how this place or that has ‘history’. I suppose the place we played in Wrocklaw had almost too much of it. When it was built in 1913, Centennial Hall was a word-famous miracle of design and construction: the largest steel and reinforced concrete dome in the world. It’s awe-inspiring even today, perhaps more impressive than beautiful, with interior buttresses flying fifty meters overhead. A place built for drama and spectacle, in the 1930’s the Hall hosted not only Marlene Dietrich, but also a certain ruthless and powerful nutcase from the neighborhood. You see, Silesia was then under the influence of neighboring Nazi Germany.

Learning that fact gave me a genuine chill.  Though the time had come to play music and call on those generous spirits, I could hear the spectre of Adolph Hitler’s raging voice echoing through the curving, labyrinthine corridors. There were ghosts in those hallways threatening to drag me down. There I was, just before showtime, wandering through the cold, empty rooms we’d been given for a backstage, imagining Der Fuhrer sitting there, going over his notes for his latest speech, intent on inciting hatred and murder. Perhaps these rooms had been occupied by some troop of naïve young fascists in their matching uniforms, brainwashed and betrayed by the emotional momentum of patriotic hatred, getting ready to stand on stage behind their leader, hold the big red, white and black flags and look as Aryan as they could for the cameras.

Those things were long ago, but they may still haunt us, until new days dawn and they are forgotten. I’m a rational positivist, but I felt some spiritual cleansing were needed, and in fact there was an exorcism on the way, and it came from a very unexpected source: a suitcase called Big Blue. 

Big Blue backstage.

Big Blue is the giant diamond-encrusted suitcase Kim Pommel has wheeled along (or had someone wheel along for her) on tour almost since I first met her years ago. In the minutes before our show in Wrocklaw I was listening to my footsteps echoing down the concrete hallways, thinking about how Hitler wasn’t really dead. But then I saw that glorious suitcase, literally overflowing with colorful clothes, curlers and make up, scarves, beads and electronics. In a few words it was a big, beautiful bloom of life and color: everything that makes a mess of Hitler’s dreams of sterility and order.

 I could see Mr. Hitler sitting there, trying to enjoy his lemon tea before his speech, and here comes Ms. Pommel and Big Blue: ‘Oh, pardon. Do you mind if I put this here? You wouldn’t believe how heavy it is. Whew! It’s hot in here, mind if I open a window? Now, where’s my scarf? What’s your name? I’m Kim. I’m from Jamaica.’ Gott im Himmel!

The Congos.

And fleeing that dressing room poor Adolph might have stumbled upon The Congos, meditating or drinking tea themselves perhaps, a proud band of foreigners invited by the Polish people, the descendants of Prussians and Bohemians, to spread their musical messages of peace and spiritual wisdom. Hitler would have hated them and everything they stand for, I’m happy to say. Poor fellow. But it gets worse, because the thing that would have really pissed off the indisputed all-powerful ruler of Wolkencuckcucksheim was the band Delle, because Delle is a German band, an interracial band, and one dedicated to a musical style not only foreign, but African in origin, music that doesn’t exalt war or nationhood, but that weaves a spell of pleasure and love extending between nations who once warred and working to put the past in the past where it belongs.  That’s a mighty tough act to follower, Mr. Hitler, it looks like the barbarians are here to stay.

 “Diesel” Dave Chachere

Groundation

Centennial Hall: UNESCO World Heritage Site

PS. Centennial Hall in Wrocklaw is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. The United Nations provides funds to preserve cultural treasures around the world, and its roster includes The Statue of Liberty, and Ruwenzori National Park in Rwanda where the mountain gorillas live. So then let the building stand, to be explored by architects, athletes, lovers of music, and seekers of ghosts.