where have all the towers gone...

growing up in southern california had its advantages. the liberal west coast of the '60s and '70s offered abundant sunshine all year, the pacific ocean with its glorious waves and some of the best music the planet had to offer. there were cool record shops where one knew the clerks and the clerks knew their customers, but no store could ever outdo the insane amount of fantastic records one could find at tower records. there was one on the sunset strip in LA. as a teenager, everytime i visited my godmother in pacific palisades i found a way of going to my musical mecca. tower was the first place i ever saw an import from the UK. they were strangely wrapped in heavy plastic sleeves as opposed to our US brand of thin crispy shrinkwrap. the store's never-ending bins held every section/selection of music under the sun. the place bred excitement. there would be spottings of movie stars or better yet, MUSICIANS. there were 'meet and greets' with groups who had come to play the forum that night. it was heaven. but it was a few and far between thing for me...until they opened a tower in my very own hometown! a dream come true i tell you! situated right across the street from the sports arena, the tower in san diego was almost as magical to walk into as the one on the strip. having access to all that vinyl in one place, in my own backyard was very, very special. years later another store went in just around the block from where i lived. i could walk to tower! they even had a ticket booth for concert purchases. it became positively dangerous. there were too many times i would rationalize a purchase at tower as being more important than paying the electric bill for the month! besides, i had quite a crush on the general manager and would go in just to catch a glimpse...

i had heard rumours. with access to purchasing music through cyberspace, the sales of material goods at the stores were dwindling. then i heard something disturbing. tower was filing for bankruptcy. but it was to be sold...new owners of an old landmark...could be ok.
or not.

when my partner and i landed in new york on our way home from europe we paid one of those obligatory visits to tower near lincoln center in manhattan. we saw big colourful signs from the outside but didn't register what they said until inside the store. we stopped dead in our tracks. STORE CLOSING. the part of the brain that refuses to register what it doesn't want to accept was seeing this as an isolated incident...until we went to the cash register and the clerk told us that all the towers were closing, all over the country. no! no! no!

it was documentation time. it was time to say goodbye. we had already snapped shots in manhattan. we went to the tower on sunset. we went to the tower on sports arena boulevard. we went to the tower in la jolla. and when we failed to make it to the original store in san francisco, a friend was kind enough to take some fotos for us - in abstentia.
here are some of the last days in pictures.































as our world continues its twenty first century changes i voluntarily adapt to the future, but nothing, for me, can replace the thrill of walking into tower records where i knew i would find any variety of music, and later video, that i ever wanted, all together, in one place, under one roof. LONG LIVE TOWER RECORDS!!!!!!

traveling in some...part 3

we knew we were going to amsterdam and we knew we were going to paris. the third destination on our excursion was TBD for quite some time. we batted around prague...florence...barcelona...
i don't know exactly why or when spain won out. certainly our friend, pat, had influence. his reminiscences of living there were quite alluring. he spoke of the place with such affection and enthusiasm. he gave the people high marks.
i had only been there once, as a teen...no memories...jon had never been there. he suggested a train trip from paris with an overnight berth car. it sounded splendid!

22.12.2006...this just in. oh oh oh i am missing amsterdam...all i want to do is walk down the length of the singel canal and then find a nice flat to fall into with friends and a fireplace and the smell of winter, chimneys and smoke...holland smoke.

christmas eve 2006...very early in the morning...i began writing this piece a month ago...

as for the romantic train trek to spain - i never slept. never so glad to get to a hotel room...and OH what a hotel room! and oh! what a view.



two blocks away from the sagrada familia, i passed out while jon went in search of food and fun. he found them.




barcelona is a place that reminds one of the times of the modernistas. the city pays homage to many artists, with museums honoring picasso, miró and, of course, gaudí.
our dinner times were spent on the plaza, facing the famous gaudí cathedral, eating tapas and drinking beer. they were really fine tapas. it was really fine beer...





our second day had us sight-seeing...really! took the tour bus et al! the first stop was girona. this city in catalonia shows you medieval buildings, ancient roman, jewish and arab culture and a cathedral with the most gorgeous bells. when they sing the hair stands on end on every part of your body.
we took lunch there before moving on to the birthplace of the incomparable, supreme egoist, salvador dalí!
figueres is not only where he was born but the final resting place, inside the museum HE designed - teatre-museu dalí.
if it was dalí's intention to make this place fun, he succeeded. if it was his intention to create great art, he succeeded. if it was his intention to be entombed in a wall shared by the women's bathroom, he succeeded.
we shot close to 300 fotos at this place. we spent hours at this place. not enough...not enough. we immersed ourselves here.

the following day saw live statues on plazas, performing their weird slo mo/come to life sequences that charmed the children on a field trip and the hundreds of touristas, tipping along the way. we made a stopover at the london bar, in search of a gaudí structure, and settled for yet another damn fine beer.
i felt a subtle nagging in a tooth. nice to be able to walk into a farmacía and purchase a simple pill that addresses a toothache. i always prefer pain-free holidays, doesn't everyone?
the house on passeig de gracia that antoni gaudí was commissioned to refurbish was owned by josep batlló. the architectural intent was clearly related to water. the place is miraculous - it made me cry. it made me miss hovercraft at 6th avenue. it made me realize that if the hovercraft project had been done in a different time that it would still be standing, with all its beautiful art.

after our usual dining experience, cathedralside, we decided to hit the bar that pat had told us about - the heliogábal. it had started to rain. we caught the metro. the looks and sounds of the place were very different from where we were staying...more like a real neighbourhood as opposed to the swirl of downtown and glassy eyed touristas. the place is very small, very cement. it smells of creative revolt. leave it to pat!
jon walked up to the bartender and asked if he knew pat mAcdonald. the guy's eyes lit up. "oh yes! well, i don't know him but i know of him!"
jon gave him a copy of his album, 'cabalistic dispatch' and we also gave him a copy of pat's latest CD, 'troubadour of stomp'. he immediately played both, back to back, over the house system and served us beer after beer - on the house. it was a holiday in spain so the people were starting to gather. the bar packed quickly. i remember thinking that i wished i had picked pat's brain a little more for what and where else to see. this was truly a special little place. when we left it was pouring rain. the metro was still running - thank the gods and goddesses for the spanish holidays and, therefore, later metro hours - so we landed back at the hotel, sated and exhausted.

after a scrumptious 'breakfast in bed feast', our last day in barcelona was spent at the park güell...in the rain. more playful, colourful gaudí. even with the rain, umbrellas, cold and mud, the park was glorious. i spotted my own version of the little 'morton salt' girl. i snapped foto after foto...after a while she just started posing - she knew she was a muse.
we finally succumbed to the rain and hailed a taxi. interestingly, the taxi driver's radio was tuned to a station playing only tim buckley - hmmm...wouldn't find that in the u.s.
because the plaza was soaked and the drizzle still having its way, we ate inside the cervezería for the only time. we were catching that night train back to paris.

so, in the hopes that much alcohol would help me sleep, i drank A LOT OF BEER! once on board we went to the snackbar car and drank A LOT OF BEER.

oh i slept alright...and that's why, folks, i very rarely drink a lot of beer...





the next morning we were back in paris. too brief...a cab ride to another station - that was it, before catching our connection to amsterdam. it started out a very, very rough friday the thirteenth...for both of us.
amsterdam was cold but its charming, darling self. the sight of the city lifted our mutual outlooks. our hotel left a lot to be desired, after the 4 star in barcelona, but hey, it was a place to sleep. we walked forever around the city that night...strolling the red light district, watching the girls for hire. swarma, spacecakes, burger king, (which i attribute to the spacecake), häagen-dazs, (probably also spacecake influenced), coffee and several smokes later we were exhausted and delightedly content.
the next morning we were awakened by the telephone. BILL! the three of us walked all over the place - the rembrandtplein to the kalverstraat. we made it to the crossroads of keizergracht-reguliersgracht. i had stared at the foto of this landmark, in our living room for so long, wondering if we would ever make it to this place together and here we were...pretty enchanting. bill took the obligatory shot of mjk & ls.D before moving on to more red light walking, curry at an indian restaurant of bill's choice. delish.

sunday was cold and rainy. it was the amsterdam marathon. while the people on the very brisk outside were running 26.2 miles, jon and i were toasty on the inside of the rijksmuseum. 400 years of the master, rembrandt, of dutch masters is the city's big bannered celebration. all these painters from the dutch golden age of the 17th century are beyond the fantastic. as i stared, mouth agape, at the use of light and detail all i could think of was the amount of patience and discipline these people had to have. not unlike the marathoners outside.
we stopped by de saloon for an afternoon beverage. coffee and ciggies for me, a palm for jon. this is one of those little corners in amsterdam just off the main track that delighted me so. like the square in barcelona, i could have been content going to de saloon over and over.

jon played that night at a pub called sláinte. yeah...lots of britishers. mjk sang, with me piping in from time to time. he passed the hat and came away with a good night's gig share. there were a few pub crawlers hoping for more football tv than live performance. carrie and i worried a bit but jon ended up charming them and collecting a few of his wages from these gits.
another day in holland, another morning coffee with bill. we didn't know it at the time but it would be our last visit with him. we took off in opposite directions, he to work and we to sightsee, with the intent to rendez-vous later. it was monday and the only museum open was the house of anne frank. neither of us had been inside and neither of us went inside. the line for entry was more than an hour's wait.
we took the tram to the flower market. yep! tulips everywhere. it was a crisp sunny day and the colours of the flowers stood at attention for all the tourist eyes to marvel at and purchase for gardens back home.
we made our way to vondelpark. under the influence of magik, i saw storks by the lake. i heard the laughter and dutch spoken by children on the grass. i sat, content to be in this great space in our world.

it was our last evening in amsterdam. with great appetites, we revisited kam yin for one final serving of moksi meti.

we visited sláinte for a final pint and then trammed it back to the hotel.

our intense adventure over, we packed in the morning, squeezing and pleading with our traveling gear to carry their loads just two more days. we flew to new york by way of frankfurt. the german language was very jarring to the ear after the melodies of dutch, french and spanish, but it was no where near as harsh as the english spoken at JFK. it was raining proverbial cats & dogs upon reentry into the USA. we stayed at a damp and creepy airport best western motel. we were both pretty sad and cranky.
wednesday, 18 october was a day of two coastal cities. one on the east - manhattan, the other on the west - home. we checked our faithful luggage at JFK and subwayed into the city. how different it looked from when we left joe & tom in september. i wanted to eat at the stage deli...probably should have gone to john's pizza. we were still adapting to the cultureshock that we live with on a daily basis. neither one of us was very happy to be back. we could feel the abrasiveness, the fear and the tightness of the US - and it wasn't because we were in manhattan...it is actually much warmer and real there than places out west!
we headed over to the west side for a cappuccino at café la fortuna.


somehow the drink and ciggies weren't going to work for me anymore. well, it was a good run, and yes, all things must pass. although i do drink coffee from time to time, the smoking days are bygones...at least for now. hey, my lungs are very, very grateful.

strawberry fields forever! visiting the little spot in central park was very different than the last time i was there with mjk. we went in the daytime this visit. jon played lennon songs and several people stopped to listen. there's a sign there that says:how is that possible?

we went by tower near lincoln center. WHAT! TOWER CLOSING! ...but that's a future blog.
we had a last libation at fiorello's before the long, last flight home.

ah...our own bed with freshly laundered, new flannel sheets. that's what it's like to sleep on a cloud.

and now it is christmas day, more than two months after the 'trip come true' came and went. what a banner year for travel. may everyone be so fortunate to be able to experience one year in life this way.
happy hols! xoXOxo
& may we all celebrate JAMES BROWN, the godfather of soul!