|
JANUARY 2001
As the well-oiled pop machine that is Duran Duran heads into
the frozen wastes of Eastern Europe, I find myself
reaching for the warmest clothes humankind has yet to
come up with. Of all the barking mad ideas - Russia in
February - brilliant! We're doing a little scamper around
Zagreb, Croatia; Kiev, Ukraine; Moscow and St.
Petersburg, Russia; and Tallinn, Estonia. I am of a split
opinion as to how this is going to run. My "Have a laugh
against all the odds" sense is primed, but my "You're
going to put a safety on all that, aren't you?" sense is
also running perilously near the red, and that's only
after 10 days of e-mails, faxes, and phone calls trying
to describe how to outrig a MAC 500! Ho-hum, "ours is not
to reason why...." I get the feeling that we should all
march into the first gig singing "We Shall Overcome."
Virgin Atlantic rules! Of course they do, we all know that,
but Aeroflot - phew! They don't have inflatable emergency
ramps. Well, actually, they've got one; the rest of the
emergency system includes knotted ropes [fine for us
lampies/truss monkeys, but good luck you corpulent
backline tech!], and a "cloth gutter," which is kind
of like the inflatable exit ramp, but it takes two people
to hold the bottom edges out from the plane. My question
is, who are these people, and how do they get there to
hold the ramp for the aforementioned backline tech? Hmmm.
Oh, yes, how could I forget the skylight in the toilet?
It's all true.
For those of you interested in the boring statistics of the
whole thing, it will be 12 flights for five shows, and
I've lost count of the phone calls and e-mails. The
interesting part of this little adventure is how these
former Soviet bloc countries are trying so hard to
emulate Western European and American production values.
From the Soviet primordial soup have emerged some
companies and people that are busting themselves to
accommodate.
As an example, take the fine fellows in Zagreb. They spoke
just enough English to let me know that they had
everything in hand. Actually, I knew as soon as I walked
in: Lights in the right places, hung the right way, and a
dimmer guy with a patch sheet in his hand. I set up the
Hog and everything worked the first time. How often can
you say that? This was a good thing - I don't take well
to jet lag. The audience were beyond outstanding.
Sometimes there are shows when, even if you're not into
the music, you can't help but get into it from the
enthusiasm of the crowd. Gary Oldknow [projectionist
to the stars] leaned over to me during the show and
shouted, "It's like the Ayatollah's funeral." There were
more than a few people going insane. Not bad, not bad at
all. So, if you're ever in Croatia, remember, "zavezitc
svoje pojaseve doksjedite," or "fasten your seat belt
while seated."
Kiev - really boring gig. Fairly nice concert hall, but
somebody please get hold of the person that controls the
air conditioning. At every well-planned-out opera venue
or concert hall there tends to be an air-conditioning
system that keeps the audience nicely chilled throughout.
Chilled audiences sit still and don't have a very good
time. I've faced this before: What usually happens is
that the venue says, "Don't worry, the air will be turned
off for the show," the show happens, the air goes
cryogenic, production managers scurry about, and surprise
- the only person that can control the air has gone on
holiday, gone to prison, gone to the moon. Well, in my
mind, it's time to rid ourselves of the oppressors, we
must rise up against the yoke of air-conditioning
tyranny. Hang on, I've been in Eastern Europe too
long....
St. Petersburg is the most spectacularly beautiful place to
visit. We had a morning off, so on went the thermals,
scarf, hat, gloves, and everything else I could possibly
wear. We got two taxis for about 75 cents an hour and
bustled off into the frosty waste. After two or three
amazing churches and a frozen tourist-trap gift market,
we headed into the Hermitage, a huge and utterly beyond
beautiful museum, and bumped into the band being given a
guided tour by the head of PR.
Now, there are those of you who will go to places like this,
away from the normal, and get utterly wasted on cheap
vodka, spend your PDs on things that could give you a lot
more than a nasty rash, and never ever see anything of
the places that this weird job takes you. For once, try
and get out, see the place. Don't get me wrong, when the
promoter waves his [or her] hand towards a club
full of fun and frivolity, it takes nerves of steel
[or a good woman at home] to walk away. If you
get to St. Petersburg, walk away. Getting drunk, etc.,
can happen anywhere, but places like this are worth the
early night - trust me.
FEBRUARY 2001
I'm back in the comfort of my little apartment on Venice
Beach. This couldn't be any further from the frozen
tundra, but the efforts of those working and living in
the former Soviet Union have left an impression. So, if
you are a tour manager frightened by horror stories from
maybe five or so years ago, make sure the heads of each
department do a lot of prep work and get over there.
It'll still be hard work, but it's worth it to get out of
the routine of sheds, arenas, or whatever, and to see
some sights and taste some flavors you'll remember for a
very long time.
Yours through the frosty glaze,
Alex
Alex Reardon can be contacted at photophobia1@aol.com.
Photos above were contributed by Duran Duran
projectionist Gary Oldknow, who has a website at
www.deepvisual.com.
|
