and so i take you…
from my balcony view, to the Círculo de Bellas Artes *one of the biggest cultural centers in Spain*
in the Salón de Baile (http://www.circulobellasartes.com/ag_profesionales-salas.php?ele=2
and then my darlings, on with the show!
xxx miss varjack
p.s. generally i keep this kind of thing to excerpts from pieces. but the madrid incarnation of domi’s sad clown was so elaborate i decided to end with it, in its entirety.
There were TV cameras present at our Lisbon show, and now we found out why: we were featured in the latest instalment of Câmara Clara, a cultural programme on the national channel RTP2. You can watch the episode by following this link; the section about the nascent Lisbon poetry slam scene, and our visit to the Music Box, starts around the 49 min mark.
So, TV! I fully expect paparazzi to show up at my door. Any day now.
and then… there was video.
sometimes i’m so forgetful of my past life as a filmmaker that I don’t even remember to take my tiny video camera along to gigs. But I think after Bohdan teased that I had sort of mentioned I’d be documenting from the beginning, yet managed to consistently forget to pack the camera, finally for lovely Lisbon, I got my act together.
Now please don’t see the following youtube clip as any mark of my editing skills, I’ve just cluttered together some highlights. And this is only part of the adventure dears, I’m afraid if you weren’t there, you’ll miss out on the daytime of meandering up and down hill streets, marvelling at pretty much everything, and constantly daydreaming about moving from our respective cities and resettling.
Oh lady Lisbon, we really did fall in love with you…and it was definitely at first sight…
But I digress.. ah yes, My fellow smokers, and the mirrors they gaze into, here is a taster of our night out in a much loved town.
and here’s where I borrow Bohdan’s bullet points for description
- Sound check and teaser of a new piece from Bohdan and Ludwig
- Walking from our penthouse (not joking) to the venue, conveniently located next door (with a strip club across the street, apparently the venue used to be a strip club too, the whole kiez used to be redlight-tastic)
- Making it past the velvet rope (not only are we on the list mate, we’re on the flyer!!!)
- Back and frontstage before the show
- the show!!! (We were on at midnight, followed by a fabulous set by Lisbon’s own spoken word band “the social smokers” after which we could have stayed to party, but were too exhausted by the day, so opted for three hours sleep in the penthouse before rushing off in a rollercoaster ride of a taxi journey to the airport.. after all we had a gig in Lyons the following evening…
its not easy being a spoken word super star. but gosh darlings, we do make it look ever so good.
xxxx miss varjack
1° mov. – allegro con brio
through the doors and up the stairs we see the walls the bricks the corners getting round and smooth and thin we see through them we twirl in circles on a wave a turning vase upwards towards the falling sky above our feet is london town we see her skin peeled off inside she is a sunny tangerine who mechanically smiles
2° mov. – adagio molto e cantabile
upstairs the clouds aren’t white but sofas caressed by curry-curtains and elephants blowing bubbles glasses mirrors smoking penguins with sunglasses Ludwig feeds his musical animals we plounge in green pools of words and breathe some paper chords that Laura made Bernat is thirsty the audience has arrived the show has started the sun has stopped Bernat takes a bottle the world has taken a coffee break a death by chocolate dreams Laura while Bernat slowly opens up the bottle the microphone pops out at the end of the night is a white sofa where Sergio listens to the poets hammering and tongueling and Michelle and her plume de nom and the cheering clouds gathered here tonight all around
3° mov. – scherzo: molto vivace – andante con moto – presto
all of a sudden Ludwig frees a little musical animal with blue stripes who jumps on liquid vibraphones and a round one who plays his fourth nose – you can think of it like a happy painting of hyeronimous bosch: the bad clown there making the clouds shudder faking laughs, the acrobats flying deep down in the stock market cracks, the ventriloquist’s puppet who gets up stands up for his right and the tightrope-walker safely falling in the abyss of darkness on her way to tesco safely frying her fish fingers without butter safely selfishly on her own on her rope – then a percussive musical animal bangs his concrete cubes on his back while the knive throwers are killing all the poors until everyone is dead outside and burns in a cool light blue fire – in the bowl of the fortune teller is snowing fake corn flakes and everyone is swimming in the naked mediterrenean milky way with no hurry no gravity but with lucy in wonderland and alice in the sky with diamond rabbits everyone dreams of white chocolate pillows drinking coconut milk cherry syrup strawberry juice among luxurious allucinations we take their money and run.