“I’m with the band.”
In keeping with the nature of the Mayfair hotel, this is the most polite “you missed check-out” call yet. I’m having coffee in the lobby when I hear something I haven’t heard in a while, a good dose of American sarcasm. The crew is Yves Jean and his band, a “rock n’ soul band with a world music beat” who is here to play the festival. Yves is from the Bronx and his band from Philly, and we spend an hour trading our stories of Scandinavia. They have been staying with Simon, a 29 year old Dane who they met online, and has come along for the festival. I was planning on going to Berlin at some point that day, but I had no definite plans. “Why don’t you get a late flight, and we’ll go get a few beers while they’re at soundcheck then hangout backstage for their set?” proposes Simon. Sounds like a plan to me. Simon turns out to be a very likeable guy. He’s from a wealthy Danish family that has found some great business opportunities in the fall of the Soviet Block. He has just finished his masters in IT, and wonders if I know anyone who can get people jobs in New York. Yeah, I think I can help there. We wander around Malmo sampling beers, and then get all access credentials as Yves Jean’s “manager and New York booking agent.” Backstage is a blast, but I’ve got the last flight out, so I need to make my way to the airport. My hotel in Berlin is unremarkable, and I do something I haven’t done the whole time I’ve been on the trip. Stay in and go to bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment