On the (European) road again

Well, doing a crazy amount of exam marking gave me a security blanket to press ahead and get tickets for the two Kassi Valazza band shows at St Pancras Old Church… and then it was announced that they’d be playing a doubleheader with the fantastic Hannah Juanita in one of my favourite cities, Groningen, so I bought a ticket just in case.

And then, guess what? My friend Regine in Köln won a couple of tickets for the Springsteen gig in Gelsenkirchen at the ground of Schalke 04, which fell on the Friday In between the Kassi gigs, so that was added in. Perusing the listings for De Oosterpoort in Groningen, I noticed that Lucinda Williams was playing the day after Springsteen. Yes, reader, I booked it.

Logistically this was a tricky one. Neil Young was playing an outdoor show in Groningen on 1st July, the day of my departure so accommodation in the city was booked up. I ended up paying top dollar for an apartment, but it turned out to be pretty fabulous so no regrets on that score. In London, I booked in at the YHA Oxford Street - which isn’t actually on Oxford Street - and on the day I arrived, wasn’t actually a YHA, as it had been taken over by Astor hotels, who presumably will run it as a backpackers’ hostel. I was on the top floor (of 5) with a tiny lift only going up to the reception on the 3rd floor. At least it was a cardio option.

The first Kassi V gig at St Pancras Old Church witnessed a meet-up of musical mates in a local pub (The Golden Lion, ten minutes walk north of St Pancras station). Then we got to the venue in sufficient time to nab the entire front row.

The church itself was a lot smaller than I thought - sensibly organised as half sitting, half standing, the sound was spacious but clear. A combination of jet lag and earth ground hum on one of Adam Witkowski’s guitar pedals added onstage adrenaline to the opening performance. The next night, with the technical edges sandpapered and in front of a full house, things took off to a new level with the cathartic rush of “Matty Groves” for the final encore. As someone who bears a comical grudge against Simon Nicol of Fairport Convention for wasting 50p of my cash in the quiz machine when my band Elvis Fontenot supported them at the Wheatsheaf in Stoke back in the day, I can tell you that it gave me great pleasure in seeing that this version was way better (louder, faster, trippier) than their ploddy take.

Following the conclusion of the Thursday gig, I was faced with a travel dilemma. I had a 6.10 flight from Stansted the next day, so would have to be at the airport around 4. The last train from Liverpool St to the airport went just before midnight. If I did that, I’d be sleepless in Stansted but in no rush. The other alternative would be to get an expensive taxi across London at 3am to get the first Stansted train after a couple of hours’ kip and then rush through security at the other end. I chose the last train option, not knowing that I’d be getting more than a couple of hours’ sleep until Saturday.

Once at the airport, I ended up people watching and unwisely eating at Burger King until security opened at 3am. Despite there being no departures for several hours between midnight and my flight, there were plenty of arrivals to distract.

It was all going so well until we got on the plane. It transpired that in one of the routine checks, that there was an iffy button in the cockpit and the initial plan was to turf everyone off the plane and put us on another one - crew members were dispatched, plans were made - but then one of the engineers said that it was a simple fix, so we should actually stay on the plane. Two hours and ten minutes after the scheduled departure time, we finally took off and made the short flight to the Köln-Bonn Flughafen. I’d been through the airport a couple of times in the last year so legged it to security and was first through, after my usual explanation (in German) to the border officer about what I was going to do in their country. I must say, this year’s officer was less enthusiastic about me going to see Bruce Springsteen than my Taylor Swift twofer the previous year. It was early though, tbf.

Once out of the airport it was a short train trip to the fabulously located Köln Hbf, right next to the cathedral. I didn’t have time to check if Der Dom steht noch, but I put that right later.

I’d bought a one day regional rail pass, so the S-Bahn was included in that and the rattly carriages eventually got me to Klettenberg Park where I failed to identify the enormous pink building where Regine had told me to aim for, instead going across the road to a dusty rosé coloured one. Some frantic waving sorted that out.

Once my bags were dumped, we headed back into the Stadtmitte and did the obligatory greeting of the Cathedral before heading on a direct Flixtrain to Gelsenkirchen. For Flixtrain, imagine if the EasyJet/Easyhotel chain took over trains - basic, but cheap as chips. Just under €8 each for a one hour trip.

Arriving in Gelsenkirchen - the Abbey Hulton of the Ruhrgebiet - there was little extra signage relating to the concert, so we just followed the trail of t-shirts…

Upon arrival at the stadium S-Bahn Haltestelle, it became clear that German football grounds were designed by town planning sadists. All the grounds I’ve been to have been several km out of the centre at the end of an S-Bahn line. Once you demount, there’s then a 1-2km walk through unsignposted woodland to the stadium. Trying to remember your way back afterwards in the dark becomes a huge challenge…

The stadium was very impressive - a huge bowl of dark blue and white, a bit like Man City’s ground, but with more atmosphere. We ended up chatting to a pleasant Belgian lady Anneke, who we rescued from having to sit next to a boorish drunk who couldn’t clap on the 1 and the 3 - or even the 2 and the 4….

The Boss himself was in the mood to rage. It was the 6th time I’d seen him and this was the most political and vitriolic, in presenting his vision of the ideal of America that most of us growing up had a misty-eyed affection for, rather than the fascist dystopia it’s becoming. Even at 75 years of age, he had the energy of someone 20-odd years younger and the expanded E-Street band were as reliable and as fiery as ever.

Obviously, after leaving the stadium we got hopelessly lost before chancing upon a random landmark that led us back in a slow shuffle to the S-Bahn. Once it was our turn to embark, we managed to squeeze into a carriage - along with four times the supposed capacity for a bad-tempered, sweaty and Black Hole of Calcutta-esque theme ride back to the station. Once there, we had a wait past midnight. The slow train back to Köln was decidedly slow and we arrived just in time to miss a convenient S-Bahn back to Klettenberg Park - sod it, we jumped in a taxi.

Head hit the pillow at around 2.30am and alarm was set for four hours later. At least I slept for the full four hours.

After trying not to destroy Regine’s bathroom, I managed to haul myself to the S-Bahn stop across the road to start a sequence of trains (and one bus)  to Groningen. When I’d booked my tickets, it was supposed to be a relatively easy journey - Köln to Utrecht, change trains and then one direct to Groningen. However, in their wisdom, Dutch rail had closed Groningen main station for a month, meaning that, after changing in Utrecht, I had to get a train to Zwolle and then another train to the out of city Groningen Europapark station and then find a bus to get me into the centre. Despite the opportunities for so much to go wrong, the whole journey went smoothly. At Groningen Europapark there were around a dozen huge surreal Monty Python like yellow signs pointing with big arrows to the shuttle bus.

Once in Groningen itself I eventually located the reception for the apartment I’d booked and was shown up a formidable set of typically Dutch building steps to a quiet, cool, spacious and well-appointed open plan apartment. Once changed I then headed over to De Oosterpoort for the Lucinda Williams gig, where I bumped into the ubiquitous Sebastian, professional German gig-goer, who was doing this gig, then going off to Utrecht for Tift Merritt and coming back to Groningen for gigs on the Monday and Tuesday. He makes me look like a lightweight….

I’d seen Lucinda Williams twice, pre-stroke and she’d been a bit sulky on stage - and also horrendously out of tune when I’d seen her at the tribute concert of the 40th anniversary of The Band’s Last Waltz in New York in 2016. Her Cambridge Folk Festival appearance in 2019 was professional but lacked a bit of soul. I was shocked - by her post-stroke mobility - but wonderfully surprised by her enthusiastic on stage demeanour and the fabulous quality of her singing. A genuinely inspiring performance - and what a band behind her.

And then… sleep… for most of Sunday.

Monday was a gorgeous day in Groningen, despite the machine for ordering in the bakery I used, not issuing order stubs. Fortunately I was one of the first in there, so locating my coffee and croissant wasn’t too much of a stretch. I waited for Van de Velde books to open - it’s a personal tradition to buy something from them each time I’m in Groningen. This time it was a collection of Elliott Erwitt photos. Saving that until I get home. In between I did my budget Garry Winogrand thing and took loads of photos. Unfortunately the tattoo expo had just finished in the Forum Groningen, or I might have been tempted….

Early evening, Sebastian had beaten me to be first in the queue but we were able to spend an hour before doors sharing gig stories in English and German.

Once inside (with big camera in tow - didn’t get searched) it took a while to fill up but according to local photo legend and friend Eddy, that was probably a good thing as the room - the Binnenzaal had a reputation for being hot and sticky.

First up Hannah Juanita with Mose Wilson on spectacular guitar gave an enthusiastic and bouncy set of what country music should be about. She played my favourite track of hers “Blue Moon” (not that “Blue Moon”) too.

Last time on this trip for Kassi V and a respectful awed audience listened in almost pin-drop silence. Fantastic lighting and immaculate sound made this one a real treat. As I said to Kassi afterwards, she needs to come back soon - she replied in the affirmative, so I’ll hold her to that. There was just time to chew the fat with Lewi Longmire before heading off back into the night in preparation for the journey home.