Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Sunday, August 11

Michelle had been talking about wanting to take in a flamenco show while we were together in Spain. After some research, she found one in Ronda, and it turned out to be at a restaurant the band had parked near the day before. We recognized it right away. So, Michelle got our hosts to call and make reservations at the show for Sunday afternoon. (Our hoteliers had set up the caving expedition as well.)



The flamenco show (and lunch) was at a place called Restaurant Quinqué. The lunch was probably the best food I ate in Spain (I can't say a lot about Spanish food; not really great, but then we'd been to Italy the previous October), and the show was terrifically entertaining. I like the way the show seemed almost improvised but clearly wasn't. A guitar player came out and played about ten minutes; again, the piece sounded improvised. Then two people (singers, it turned out) and a woman in flamenco dancer garb came out and sat in chairs alongside the guitarist. All three clapped while the guitarist continued to play, and then each singer took turns singing while seated. At some point in the middle, the dancer suddenly popped up and went into flamenco moves. No warning, set up, nothing. She just popped up and went into it. Impressive. The entire performance was around 40 minutes. But from what I understand, the evening performances are quite a bit longer. Still, this was perfect and a great way to spend the afternoon.

After returning to our hotel for a bit, we headed out to the last festival performance which was in Grazalema, the second longest drive we'd have to make to a festival show....around 35 minutes. When we got to this one, everything was marked better than the first two had been. There was an obvious parking lot, and it was clear where the stage was. And it was equally picturesque to the night before in Ronda.



We were closing out this night, following our new friends' acts. By the time I got to the stage (and had already watched our pals play), I was met with this as a drum setup:



Yes, that is the drummer's view of......well, the drums are sitting on cement, with a rainbow-colored strap lashing everything together. A previous drummer explained to me he put the towel in there between the pedal and the kick drum to minimize clicking noise and perhaps even to help keep everything in place. The hardware was of that twig-thin variety that costs roughly $20 a stand. Cody told me later that when he first saw the drum kit, he thought "jeez, Lance is going to destroy that."

But I played with only mild restraint, and everything went fine. I took the gloves off a bit by the end of the set..."Donkey Lady," etc.....and everything was okay. We didn't have much of a crowd, being Sunday and the end of the festival, but I thought it was a fitting end to everything. We said goodbye to all the folks we'd shared the common stage with over the last few nights (Cives was not on this bill), and headed out....for Michelle and me, back to Benaojàn. We had an early call the next morning, and a lot to do. Hoo boy.

Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Saturday, August 10

Saturday, August 10th. This was the day that shall live in Hickoids (in)famy for their first (?) Pueblos Blancos festival. What a night.

But what a day, too. Michelle and I went to a cave....oddly, not the one down the highway from us, Cueva del Gato.....but, Cueva de la Pileta, several kilometers away up a windy road. We had another GPS issue, the directions not accurate, but Michelle spied cars parked in an area some ways off the main road. Upon driving back, we found it. That was par for the course during the southern Spain stay - GPS was many times not accurate.

But the cave was not only a nice respite from the heat....sort of like being in a cool refrigerator for an hour plus....the cave had many paintings dating back, well, a long time. Michelle was quite stoked by it all; I was very impressed, too. And we weren't in the sun to absorb some culture. Since I had to have energy to play, this was important.

Later, it was off to Ronda, which is the largest town we were playing in for the festival. As the guys had their passenger van to park, I assumed I was going to have to find our own parking, and I chose a lot several blocks away. We had already driven to the site of the later performance, so I had some bearings down for a change. From the car, I had to bring my cymbals, stick bag, and kick pedal, and off we went. About halfway to the playing area, I thought I'd better message my bandmates to say I was on my way, etc., although there was plenty of time. Communication is good. So I set everything down at the entrance to a small park near an ice cream stand and wrote and sent a message. We continued on to the stage, running into Jeff and old friend Lonnie Layman along the way. This was the site before anything started.



Wow! But anyway, we hustled down the steps, got to the backstage area, and as I dropped my cymbals and stick bag, I thought.....where's my kick pedal? For a minute, I thought maybe Jeff or Lonnie might have taken it from me when we met up with them, but I feared the worst. Ol' Forgetful might have left the pedal where I sent that earlier message from! So I hustled back up went back down the road toward that park.....and there it was. My kick pedal sitting right where'd I left it. It did sort of blend in with the iron gate behind it, so it must not have drawn any attention. Or simply, no one cared much. Anyway, I had my kick pedal! And breathed a huge sigh of relief!

So, we took a look around the town:







It's purty. So's Michelle.

The line-up at this show was similar to the one on Thursday night, except there was an addition of Brian Ashley Jones (alt-country, I'd say), and another act before him who completely escapes my mind. So we were third this night, and man, what a night. We tore the roof (if there'd been one) off the place, and by the end, we most definitely had the crowd with us.

A moment to remember, for sure! Michelle shot that, but I had forgotten to turn the camera audio attenuator on before handing her the camera, hence the distorted audio. That camera normally captures pretty good audio.

The town of Ronda is pretty interesting in its own right. Orson Welles had an affinity for it, and his ashes were scattered there. There's also a monument to Ernest Hemingway there, but I forget the connection.

 

We went and got our food (I hadn't mentioned that we had meal and drink tickets each night). We stayed through Jake's band and Maf again....they were their always stellar selves. And then it was the not-too-long hustle back to our parking lot and back to our country digs.

Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Friday, August 9

On to Friday. During the day, Michelle and I took it pretty easy. Part of that "taking it easy" was exacerbated by the slow pace of restaurants in Spain. In particular, the restaurant across the road from our hotel, Las Banderas. We went over in the early afternoon for our second meal there and were probably seated for at least two hours. Nothing moves fast, but then we weren't, either. If I recall correctly, Michelle had a piece of swordfish that was roughly the size of my head.

Later, we headed over to Montejaque, and the second Hickoids show of the festival. The other Hickoids had been housed by the festival in a couple of rooms right next to the square/playing area in the town, meaning that those poor souls hadn't had much sleep. Folks (including them at times) were partying until the wee hours, and from what I heard, it was loud. Also, their air conditioning was apparently not the best. So it was a hot noisy time for the Hickoids, minus me. Our hotel was incredibly quiet at night, and our a.c. was kicking. And I had Michelle with me. It's a wonder they don't all hate me now; maybe they do.

Montejaque was just a few kilometers north of Benajoàn, which in turn was just a kilometer north of where we were staying. So, we just had a short drive to this one. Unfortunately, we had to park near an unfinished building of some sort (the guys' van was there, too) and walk a fairly long ways to the town square. This time, I was smart. I brought my cymbals. Of course, wouldn't you know it......they had cymbals there.....and they had them at every other festival show. Just that first one....well, we won't go there again.

There were a few shops and restaurants around where we were playing, so Michelle and I stocked up on a few snacks and drinks to take to our hotel room later. We were playing first this night, followed by the two acts who followed us the night before and then other acts, including Los Skarnales, from Houston. I was wearing my Astros jersey to this gig, and several of the Skarnales yelled "hey, Astros!" to me, giving me big thumbs ups. I was confused at first, because I didn't realize who they were!

Our set was okay. We played fine, but we're pretty unaccustomed to playing first these days, and the crowd just never really warmed to us, despite Smitty's best workings. That happens sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of, but we just couldn't get the crowd on our side. Once the next acts started, things changed for the crowd, and they started getting into it. One regret I do have is that Michelle and I were getting a bit tired, so we went back to the hotel after Maf É Tulà. We missed Los Skarnales, who the guys were raving about the next day. I wish we would have caught some of them.

So endeth the Friday.

Hickoids / HMT 2019 Tour Thursday, August 8

I found Michelle up at the crack of dawn...before, really....having breakfast down by the river in a nice spot at the back of our hotel. Truly relaxing stuff.



As we found out later, the owners had suffered a terrible flood the previous October, when ten meters of water pretty much washed out the first floor of the hotel. That part had just reopened; we were staying on the second floor and had no idea about any of this.

Michelle, ever on the lookout for stuff for us to do, had found some ruins close by in Acinipo. We decided to go there a bit after breakfast the next day. Turned out that day might have been the hottest of all the days we spent in southern Spain; the sun was relentless on us as we investigated the small but interesting set of Roman ruins. Still, it was something to do while we were both there.

After Acinipo, we had lunch in the nearby town of Setenil, and then took refuge from the sun in our well air conditioned room. And probably a nap. Or two.

That night, the Hickoids were playing the first of our Pueblos Blancos shows in Villaluenga del Rosario, which as it turned out, was the longest drive we would have from our home base. Distance-wise, it wasn't even that far, but the mountainous region required a circuitous to getting there, so it was about a 45-minute drive. Not bad, though. The roads weren't even treacherous.

Once we got the town, I had no idea where we were actually going to play. The rest of the guys hadn't known, either. And this led me to make a poor decision that, if I hadn't taken out the full insurance for our rental car, would have been pretty costly. I made the mistake of driving from the main road into the town, and ending up in a maze of small roads that became harder and harder to navigate. I finally found a couple of band members, who pointed out the general area where we were playing - the town square at the center. Cody told me the other members' rental van was parked off the main road, and they had walked up. So, in my not-so-gentle retreat from the small roads of centrallish town, I managed to scratch the driver's side rear panel of the rental car. As I remembered I had the insurance, I wasn't worried....still, you don't like to bring a rental back with obvious damage. I parked off the main road in an otherwise empty parking lot (the other guys' van was parked in a marked lot, figured I wouldn't do that), and Michelle and I walked up with my stick bag and pedal. I didn't bring the cymbals, as it was my understanding everything would be provided at these gigs. That would come back to bite me in the butt (lungs, really) later.

After the uphill trek to where we were playing, we sussed out the situation. There was a stage set up, sort of in the town square, but with a backing, making us sort of cordoned off from town. Out of all the places we played, I'd say this was the least picturesque. The first band, Cives, was sound checking, and the time....well, let's just say that the Spanish are not too big on timeliness. We waited around for awhile for Cives to start. Hickoids were on after Cives. When they were playing, I noticed a couple of cymbal bags around and thought I'd better ask the situation. I talked with Jack Ryan, who was playing bass for the two bands following us and found out that no cymbals had been provided. Uh-oh. And it was getting close to time for our set. And it was no easy trek back to the car and then uphill all the way to where we were playing. Patrick volunteered to go to help me, so off we ran. Back to the car, and then he grabbed my cymbals and hustled up, while I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath. By the time we got back, it was set up time, and I thought I was going to have a coronary right there. I mean, it was scary. I'm sure being out in the hot sun for a few hours earlier in the day hadn't helped. So, I took a bit of time setting up, trying to catch my breath and be ready to play well. We started slow (Jeff kept checking on me), but actually the set went fine. We built up and by the end were rocking at full force. The setting was the most intimate we would play for the whole festival, so I would say despite everything, the set worked out really well. And I didn't die. Yay!

The Jake Levinson Band played next, followed by Maf É Tulà, both based in Guatemala and sharing rhythm sections. Both acts were pretty great. I really enjoyed the Levinson Band's arrangements of familiar covers. Maf is a singer/songwriter, and her stuff is gripping in presentation...she's a fantastic performer. What I didn't know at this point was that we would share the stage with these two bands every night of the festival. Cives we only played with one more time. Well, I think that's right.

Afterward, another long trek (downhill, at least) to the car and the 45-minute drive back to our hotel. And sleep. Aaahhh......