This is where it all happens – Brussels! Governments collapse, citizens speak french and dutch, they mix metaphors, they eat cheese AND chocolate, they have babies named Hercule Poirot. We are playing in a complex called Le Botanique – an old arboretum transformed into three concert spaces, a museum, a restaurant and a beautiful outdoor garden/terrace space where you can get sunburned while watching Big Banks in the distance melt down. Impressively, the government helps pay for this (I believe this to be true which should stand as fact). Today there is a reggae band playing in the big hall and we are playing in La Rotonde – the central domed atrium, i.e. the most awesome part of the whole complex. It’s exceptionally well run and after walking around Brussels and seeing a bunch of old shit, I, as an american, am compelled to shovel as much bread, cheese and chocolate into my gourd as I possibly can. Surely, I will regret this one day – that being the future, I do not care, for what has the future ever done for me? Nothing. Nada. Niente. Rien. Nyet. Thanks a lot future. See you tomorrow. Anyway, this place is a little bit like playing in heaven if heaven had a smoke machine and an alarmingly strong smell of beer soaked wood. I am very happy to play here and the sound is perfect. I am a rock legend tonight in my own mind, which is all that matters. Simon makes some extremely ominous noises, Chris throws a little fairy dust on it and Scott warbles and gurgles and we are off! Done! Check! Now we fade into the darkness, mundane, grey and obscure. Time for the house party in fairyland – down the street we are transported into some sort of half Patti Smith “I’m in the gutter” and half “this is a Cinderella story” house party. We are in a four story house where the first floor has extra high ceilings and doubles as a concert space for big parties. Wow. Some guys have all the luck, and some parties have all the Barbara Panthers. Grüss Gott!
