Mundoblaineo In Russia

White Night, St. Petersburg









We Arrive in Russia

16 June, 2002

Your correspondent here in St. Petersburg, (Russia that is if you are American and don’t know that there is another St. Petersburg in the world.) We, Tuxedomoon, are up here for a week or so, we play here tomorrow and then we go to Moscow.

I don’t have a hell of a lot to report about life up here in the former home of the evil empire. I have been luxuriating in the fact that I have my own room here in the Tuxmo Arms, in which I can sleep and SMOKE, without fear of brain-damaging my son. I can also read undisturbed and I have just finished devouring a book by Bruce Sterling. “Distraction” it was called. A political diversion set 5 minutes into the future as the cover said. Pretty good. I recommend Bruce Sterling as post-Gibson reading. (In the science fiction community he is known as Chairman Bruce.

First thing off the plane, we got hit by shuckers and jivers. Some knuckle-walking son of Ivan wanted to charge us thirty dollars for carrying our baggage 10 feet. We wanted to get from one terminal to the other of the stunning world-class facility that is Moscow airport. Were we ever shocked to discover that the ticket agent of Aeroflot was in cahoots with the gypsy cab drivers and luggage schlepper to get us to part with about 100 dollars of Tuxmo money. When we asked the woman at the aeroflot desk when the free shuttle bus service was she replied in words not of this time space continuum.

“I never told you to take a bus, now you have to pay for standing twenty minutes talking to information, WHY WHY WHY do you insist on taking a taxi when I TOLD YOU the only taxis here are directly controlled by the mindwarp brainfog hare krishna voodoo no coke pepsi. NEXT PLEASE? TAKE TAXI OR TAKE BRITISH AIRWAYS NEXT TIME STUPID!!”

I simply must tell you, however, that st. petersburg is stunningly beautiful, knock out drop dead gorgeous. They have a ‘respectable river’ here as peter says. I have never seen a river whose current is so fast. It positively assaults the bridges. We are staying not all that far from the Hermitage and the surrounding plazas. This town is laid out on a grand scale, the sky is huge and the sun doesn’t ever quite set. We are in the middle of the ‘white nights’ period. At most, the sun sulks a bit, we have a crepuscular glow for a while and then the sun comes back up. I will go now, I have finally managed to get online but it costs. I am sitting in my underwear as I write this. I thought you needed to know that.

SPECIAL REPORT from the hermitage.

hermitage museum st. peter 

Greetings sports fans. This is your working boy here, writing from an internet cafe inside the HERMITAGE, St. Petersburg’s enormous repository of art from all times and places. Thus far I have seen many of the biggies, Titian, Caravaggio (including the Lute Player upon which my friend Harpeaux Crapaud superimposed my haid for my site.) Gaugin, van Gogh, Michelangelo, Cezanne, Degas, Renoir and the hits just keep on happenin’. I am struck here, just as I was at the Parce Guell in Barcelona by how much the pure flow of art resembles religion for black clothes wearin’ arty types like me. At the guell park, people were putting their hands in the water of Gaudi’s fountains and rubbing it on their heads with a spontaneous devotion I have never seen in a church. Perhaps at Lourdes.
peter in peter
The tuxedomoon show last night was not bad. We couldn’t hear anything on stage, but that’s showbiz. Also, it was strange to be playing in broad daylight at 9 pm. Such are the idiosyncracies of the planet’s attitude towards the sun up here in the north country. These people seem to like us. We played some of the new material which will end up on the new record, taking it out onto the road to temper it up a bit. This is also as it should be. After the show, our erstwhile host, Oleg Kuptsov and company took us on a boat ride through the late night canals and passages of this city. I tell yafolks, you shoulda been there. We had the moon on the water and the never-setting sun drooling indigo and orange all over the place while we puttered around these broad neo-classical waterways. Simply divine my friends. Now I am having a coffee break before hitting the egyptian part of this place. Later I may go with the boys to buy bootleg software or cd’s. When insane, do as the sane do.
don't hurt me
on the boat
machoman on boat
I hit the egyptian part of the museum and was naturally floored. I also dug the many Roman statues. I also saw a piece of Greek ceramics that didn’t make me want to pass out from sheer boredom. Now I am off.

dos vedanya


Tuxedomoon in Barcelona (Sonar Festival)

gaudi's lizard
gaudi lizard, parce guell
14 June, 2002
Greetings all. This is your correspondent writing from the hotel lobby in the fabulous city of Barcelona. I am here with the Tuxedomoons since we played last night at the Sonar Festival. This is a massive festival of new electronic music, jam packed with young folks here to have their ear drums bleed from exposure to the latest and greatest electronic sounds. Our show last night was most excellent, we played a set of new material which will find its way onto our new studio cd, coming soon to a bootlegger near you.

This city is quite jammed with gorgeousness and gorgeosity.
I ain´t never seen the like. The streets are crawling with attractive people of all genders and the architecture is to die for, girl.

One highlight of the show last night was the chance to introduce my son on stage. I took the little tyke out after the last bow and introduced him to the crowd with the words “Este es mi hijo.” (this is my son, in case you not know). I may have started another unfortunate soul down the road of applause addiction. I was watching his little face as the adulation of some uncounted number of jazzed up young people washed over him and his dad. You should have been there folks. Now he knows what I do besides feed him oatmeal and chase him around the playground in mytilini.

The next day we slogged through the heat to get to the one destination I could not face missing, Gaudi’s famous Parce Guell. I have to tell you, folks, that it is better than all of the photos I have seen in art books.  Walt Disney’s take on the human capacity for whimsy and pure fantasy is to this park as a MacDonald’s Big Mac is to Cordon Bleu, or any cuisine you care to name that has soul. Cajun, Greek, Italian, anything. This park could be called ‘otherwordly’ were it not for the fact that it is in our world already. It’s just that civilized minds are not often free enough from the limits of stupidity to see through the veil to this extent.  

I would also like to take this opportunity to announce the coming of at this address you will now find links to other sites, including mine, but much more will come.

that said, I wish you all buena suerte from 
Gaudi´s town.