Sometimes, the early wakeup call is worth it. The scratchy jostling stumble into the van after a not so unexpected night (of karaoke and exuberance ) around the corner from the gig at some tiny bar full of characters..
The morning hours on the autostrada becomes a two lane road through rugged Tuscan hills and we are winding, and wondering if we've been too long in the van when we start dissecting Frank Zappa lyrics. Are we a bit late arriving in Monte Rotundo? Of course not, we are right on time! The view from our assigned parking spot in the municipal lot on the edge of a small cliff quickens our flagging hearts; where on a clear day you might see the Medditerranean. And soon a three wheeled motorcycle contraption arrives to carry our bulky gear up a stone paved street lined with vendors artists to a square before a small stone church at the top of the hill. As we strode up, smiling to see our name on posters for the "Festa della Castagna" with Bobo Randelli and others.
There was no stage there before the church steps, just a pile of cables waiting and a scattering of random sound gear. I started looking for something to sit on and tried to ask to borrow a chair from a woman with a couple in front of her house, but she just shook her head and looked down at my feet as if to say what's wrong with them there? Soon enough the cheerful and helpful sound engineer arrived to help us set up, with the street stretching down before us. This could be interesting. We organized ourselves there before the church. Folks watched skeptically, as we conjured up some, antique looking microphones and a table with three chairs arranged before a black box of an Estey field organ on one side and bass and drums on the other .By the time we were ready to play, the crowd had arrived. Expectant kids and mothers, couples and old men. a variety of people there who we mystified by us as we were by them began to gather.
For a moment I must digress! Solo singer songwriters, tasteful duos, loops tracks are fine but they can't beat the sound of a 6 piece live band...so at that moment we delivered something fuller and richer than they might expect.
Well it was a pleasant surprise for these folks as the set unspooled across the warm afternoon. We were enjoying it there, placed at the apex of some Tuscan hill town playing songs. And as the set drew near the end, we started the song Pop Life. And soon the sound of horns could be heard from the back of the crowd, and after a moment or two a trumpet and a valve trombone emerged played by two men dressed in black. The horns merged with the song and gave us a little more sway and lightness, as if we had found a giant soap bubble to drift us above the houses and over the hill and would pop as the song reached its climax! Well that's how the set ended. They clapped, we laughed, and sold Cds from the steps of the chapel... the end of another gig but with Andrea our trusty Italian booking agent we well suspected that our day's journey had just begun. Yeah this is about Andrea, we've never had any other italian booking agent but...
It might also be just about the food: we played a show in In Savona where the sound man served us after soundcheck what must have been the best pesto most of us have ever had on a fresh pasta made by the bartender. Maybe it was the fresh air coming from the ligurian sea on the 4th floor open patio, where you could see the trucks and cars lining up for the ferry to North Africa, or maybe it was the time of year, but that something made for an unforgettable meal. It just goes to show you never know, and with Andrea you really never know.
Of course that's what we were thinking that fall afternoon when we rolled down to the big square at the bottom of the hill where the main "highway" met the town cross roads. By sunset the festival was going full blast, with excitement building for the upcoming Bobo Randelli show. After about 3 minutes of waiting, who wouldn't want to try a delicious roast pork sandwich which dripped grease into a fresh bun. We stood next to an intricate spinning cylinder cage, roasting chestnuts over open flames. I took a picture and the spinner soon came up to me and tried to act offended that I snapped a photo at his contraption...but my lack of italian was so profound that I knew surprisingly quickly that he was trying to yank my yankee chain. Bobo made everyone laugh at jokes we couldn't catch, along with the two horn players from before: "The Slide Pistons". They hammed it up right along, with Raffaele blowing smoke through his trumpet and other tricks. Jeff even joined in with hilarity with a version of "Your Daddy Ain't Your Daddy and Your Daddy Don't Know" We were just waiting and waiting for the moment when we finally all sat down all together for some Cacio Pepe and Tortelli Marmani at a dinner presided over by Andrea and Bobo (who is never really off stage) and even more music in the in the wee hours at the wine bar next door. We finally loaded up for a ride into the Tuscan night down the hill to the Agroturismo where we were staying. My last memory was of Bobo and his girlfriend standing/ dancing and singing in the back of a pickup winding down the road. Goodnight. And yes it was worth it.
-Jim Fitting