Susie Asado

A few years ago, when I played a show in Erfurt, I spent the night in an apartment that had a collection of spoons on the wall. The spoons were carefully placed and framed like a rare butterfly collection. Each spoon different, with the name of a place written next to it in a strange all caps handwriting. Stolen espresso spoons from all over the world. I didn’t meet the man who’s collection it was that night, but I didn’t forget the spoons and have since contemplated stealing a pretty spoon or two. Thanks to the wonderful magic of of touring, this loose strand of an encounter with a spoon collection got picked up and tangled further into a story. On Saturday I drove from Berlin to Erfurt with my friends Sibsi and Andy to open up for The Burning Hell. We drove through insistent rain and shortly before Erfurt, the clouds dispersed and we met up with our friends in front of the sun drenched building of Franz Mehlhose. I love meeting up with touring friends. The Burning Hell have been on the road for about two weeks and are full of stories and music and a bit unhinged from gas stations and strange accommodations. When I walked into Franz Mehlhose I was instantly transported back to the night I marveled at the spoon collection in Erfurt years ago, because there was that same spoon collection hanging on the walls of the venue. Back then, Philip Neues had put together a show for me and Haruko at the Woodstock Record store in Erfurt and we got to spend the night at his fathers apartment while he was away. So on Saturday, Philipp and his father Ralf, who have reconstructed the historical venue of Franz Mehlhose, were our wonderful hosts and I could finally meet the espresso spoon collector. As a lady always on the lookout for signs, I knew this would be a special evening. Since I have toured with Ariel and Mathias from The Burning Hell before, during sound check, Ariel and I shook the dust off our bare bones Susie Asado arrangements and Mathias joined us for a few songs. It was an early show, and soon after sound-check we were back on stage nervous and excited that the grand room of Franz Mehlhose was filling up with friendly people. Being on stage nervous is a funny thing. An experience that I’ve gotten more and more curious about with time. Sometimes odd impulses charge through me, unpredictable notes and postures, embarrassing stories that blubber out between songs, jerky uncontrolled movements. Have you ever seen musicians play a guitar solo with a funny face, or the tongue sticking out in fierce concentration? I prefer these moments of involuntary movements to the awkward out of body experiences that extreme nervousness can lead to, or the horrible feeling of being on auto pilot and forgetting what part of the song I am motoring through. Yes, this happens too. But this is not the story I want to tell. I want to tell the story of what happened during that wonderful evening of music in Erfurt when something strange happened with the frequencies of music zooming through the room as we were standing up there playing songs. The sound waves started resonating with the chandeliers, a kind of feedback, an odd electronic sound that was deep and bright and sent the hairs on my arm up like little antenna. The chandelier right in front of the stage shook and parts started flying off into the room like fire works fizzing out. Things in the room slowed down for a moment and it felt like we were all inside of something mysterious and other worldly. That’s when the ghost of Franz Mehlhose appeared in front of us mid-song. I recognized him right away from the t-shirts that everyone working at the venue was wearing. A man with one dramatic curl of hair on his head and a twirled mustache. He hovered above the stage and sparkled from the chandelier glow. He held a spoon in his hand and spoke to us in a voice that sounded as if put through a tremolo effect. He proceeded to introduced himself “I am the ghost of Franz Mehlhose. I am here to present the secret of the warp spoons. Any spoon from the collection on the wall will instantly transport one to the location of which the spoon is from. Just put it in your mouth and . . . poof!” He then gave us a tiny espresso spoon that belonged to the kitchen of Franz Mehlhose to be sure we could return to this very spot after such an adventure. Suddenly a strange electrical current went through my ukulele, my mouth tingled and I found myself mid-song again, clearly on autopilot right in the instrumental part of “Dear Immigration Officer”. I quickly got my bearings back like a proper song and dance lady, looked around to Ariel and Mathias, then smiled into the audience as if nothing had happened. We played one more song, bowed, and when I went to clear the stage for The Burning Hell to go on, right next to my ukulele’s D.I. box, there lay a little silver espresso spoon. I put it in my skirt’s pocket, took my cables and instruments to the band apartment, kicked off my Susie high-heels and put on my sneakers. I was ready to dance to The Burning Hell. And this is what I did. I danced through their wonderulf set silver spoon in my pocket. After the show I had sweet conversation, ate Kalter Hund (a tasty cake called “cold dog” made out of crackers and chocolate”) and spun out the story of the warp spoons with Jake from The Burning Hell. Before we went to bed at the cozy band apartment in the back of Franz Mehlhose our conversation got loopy and my cheeks hurt from laughing. Ahhh. In the morning we had breakfast with our hosts Philip and Ralf, Jake drew the story of the warp spoons and before we were all back on the road to different directions, we jumped around on some trampolines and talked into the telephones of a nearby playground. Sibsi, Andy and I drove back to Berlin as if flying through perfect sunny weather and puffy clouds. We drove straight to our friend Heiko’s place whose birthday it was, celebrated, ate delicious foods, then made our way to Madame Claude (which I like to call Madame Cloud) to attend the always entertaining open mike that Heiko runs, the open Michael J. Fox. This morning I woke up all glowy from awesome adventures and friends and music and spoons and the knowlege that Franz Mehlhose is an airport from which to travel from via spoon. To spoon: to travel via spoon. Two spoon: to travel via two spoons. Too spoon: the effect of two spoon, when spooning get’s too much. And so, off I go. Go.
And here the story illustrated by Jake Nicoll:

We have become collectors of moments. A former butchery turned venue called Malacarne. Very fitting for a grilled Susie. A Susie Asado. A room, almost psychedelic, a heart on the floor. A room probably once used for something meat, something terrible. But in Verona it is our stage. And when suddenly the room was filled with kind faces, big eyes and mischievous smiles we sang to and into the rooms warm and precise acoustics. Oh “in fair Verona, where we lay our scene” it was raining and we didn’t get to see you, but we came to the heart of you, I am sure of that. After Verona we drove to Switzerland, to Bern. “Ciao Italy” we said. We played at a studio space called “Werkstatt 14″ with a local band called Chevre Chaud. Which means “Hot goat” and so we continued with the meat, with the hot and the grilled. So much fun to listen to music before our show. And our show another unplugged one with sweet acoustics. The next morning Valentin, the upright bass player from Chevre Chaud took us on a bike ride around the city. It was sunny and beautiful, Everything blooming and it felt so romantic to ride on bikes and zoom by the bustling city. All packed up we drove back to Germany. To Stuttgart. After sound check at Galao we go to a play ground near by and play ball. A little girl called Vanessa showed up and soon we  played ball with a group of kids. Sweaty and all body again we return to the venue. Our show in Stuttgart felt like a home coming. Friends came to the show and we felt like we crossed a border. Suddenly we are very close to home. And last night we got even closer. Jena, another house show. A cozy living room packed with sweet people. After the show we sat on the roof of the house and contemplated a strange righ rise that supposedly looks like a Zeiss lens from above and an antenna. Oh antenna. And now after a good sleep I am sitting back in the living room where we preformed last night. Noel has already started packing up the car and we are about to go have breakfast with our hosts from the “Wohnzimmer Sessions”. Later we will drive to Leipzig and tomorrow back home. Home. What a sweet adventure we have had. Onward Aeropuerto.

We arrived in Perugia with an empty gas tank. Gasoline stations are closed on Saturdays. Noel jumped out of the car, asked a nice looking man for directions to a gas station that was open and the man mumbled some words in italian and then gestured us to follow his car. We took all kinds of windy roads seemingly out of town and eventually ended up at an open gas station. Then he drove us all the way to the hostel we couldn’t find because our GPS didn’t recognize the address. The man’s name is Philippo and we marveled at this welcoming friendliness. We went to the hostel washed our clothes and headed back out to the old city of Perugia. You need a lot of imagination to drive a car through the narrow of these streets. I imagined my car pulling in its belly, its ass and being skinny for that moment of passing a seemingly impossible passage. At one point I wanted to give up, there was no way the car would go through. I wanted to crawl into the seat of the car, disappear inside the upholstery. But Noel started jumping around the car finding possible angles and guided me through tight spots. It took a long while, but eventually we even figured out how to park the car. Yes, driving and parking can be quite adventurous. We set up at the venue Loop and then wandered the streets of Perugia. Noel found a little shop called Dinamica where one can build a robot out of all kinds of garbage and found objects. Check it out here: www.dinamicadinamica.wordpress.com A man named Fabrizio showed me where the glue was and I got to work. My hands dove into the pile of cables, bottle caps and toy parts and quickly a little nanny bot came to life. I completely lost track of time, it was already 11:30 p.m. and realized we were already supposed to be on stage. My nanny bot found a home on a shelf with all kinds of other lovely robots and we hurried back to the venue. Oh Perugia. What a lovely inviting place you are with your futuristic mini metro and your mediaeval buildings and kind audience. In the morning we took another long walk through the city and then drove a very pot-hole ridden street to Faenza. Here we played at the awesome Clandestino run by the inspired and crazy hard working Morena. Imagine a feisty Italian lady catering a wedding, setting up the stage, plugging cables, decorating with flowers, cooking, talking with guests running circles around the place all at the same time. Look at the photograph of the stage all set up:

We had a wonderful night and sweet conversation after the show. Now it is the next morning. The stools are upside down on the bar. Clandestino is one of the few venues that looks good in the day time. The big plastic bubbles filled with cacti and sparkling chandeliers. I am sitting on the stage on the stool where my amp was propped up last night. Morena is already bustling around the place and everything is being cleaned and straightened out. We are about to pack up the car again and drive to Verona. The city of Romeo and Julia.

7 shows behind us. 7 shows ahead. We are sitting in 909 Café in Castigliano de Lago and having a sleepy breakfast. I haven’t made much time to write. I’ve been wrapped up in traffic, driving through mountains, through tunnels, flirting with truckers, listening to audio books, watching clouds from the car and rest-stops, oh places we’ve never been and lots of lovely people. A highlight of the last few days was the show in Besançon. We played at a former public bath house turned community center in a beautiful room for the people of the neighborhood. An early show where a little girl danced to our songs and I had the feeling that everyone was there from young to old. The above photograph of the show is from François Roussell, you can see the room, our audience. Our host, Christophe runs a music series at Les Bains Douches, which sounds like bathtubs and showers. Christophe is musician as well, and so pulled all stops to keep us fed and comfortable and our sound perfect. After the show we had dinner with Christophe on the sidewalk while neighbors walked by calling out “bon appetite”. So we felt right at home and welcomed in this friendly open place. The next day we drove across the alps down to Italy. We listened to the biography of Lotte Lenya and Kurt Weil. We took turns driving and crying. By the time we arrived in Italy we were drenched in sweat and tears. The letters of the two were so moving and funny and the many twists and turns of their lives inspiring and heart breaking. Oh. And now Italy. ITALY! We’ve already eaten a good amount of Pizza, marveled at palm trees, olive trees, an old fortress and roman remnants. We stayed at a beautiful apartment in Padova with two cats called “Cat One and Cat Two”. Yesterday before our show at 909 Café we walked down to the lake. Took narrow dark paths that run between beautiful old houses. It was creepy and beautiful and when we made it down to the shore of the lake we couldn’t believe the blossom sweet warm wind, the water dance and the moon. Now everything is packed up again. We are becoming quite professional at packing and unpacking. The Beatles “Abbey Road” is playing on over the PA. We are secretaries with our laptops chop chop. We will take another trip to the lake and then drive to Perugia la la la

Noel is driving. It is warm outside. Very warm. We just stopped at a rest stop and sat on a flower clad lawn. We are both sneezing a lot from the pollen. It feels wrong to wish for less blooming trees in Besançon. But that’s where we are heading and it would be amazing if we could have spring there without the sneezing. Not without the blooming. Anyways, I guess we need to struggle a little for all this beauty. Last night we played at a meticulously hand-built venue called O’Brother in Grenoble. A kind of fantasy interior of a cozy venue out of wood and found objects. Almost like a movie set. A movie set built for the scene where the protagonist goes to see a show. Where the evening turns into a late night listening to favorite songs and dancing dancing dancing. Right at the beginning of the set a giant painting that was looming from the ceiling fell onto my head and the evening turned out to be all glorious from then on. The painting falling on my head felt like a kind of blessing. The moment right before the painting fell, some of Noel’s cymbals tumbled off the cymbal stand. I don’t think the two events were related, but there was magic in the room, ghosts or something else moving shit around. Yes,spooky. We played a wild Susie set, where we let the songs fall apart a little and sing through the cracks. After our show we danced with our spunky audience to Georges Brassens and Edith Piaf and lots of awesome songs. At some point Vincent, the promoter came up to us and said “let’s make a beef”. We had no idea what he was talking about. “Beef, let’s make a beef”. When we still didn’t know what he was talking about he said “Beef is boeuf, is what you call jam, let’s make a jam”. Oh, “no no no, we don’t jam.” But it was already too late, suddenly we were back on stage with Vincent and another friend on Guitar. Vincent started rapping and suddenly we were in the middle of a song coming about. I wish I would have understood the words Vincent was rapping. It all sounded very cool and like proper rapping. O’ Brother, really is a fitting name for this venue. We had no idea what we were in for. And so our adventure continues. On the GPS it reads 59 minutes to Besançon. Here we go.

Waking up in Dijon. I dreamt I followed little triangles on the pavement that lead to an owl. I kept following the little triangles, there is an owl on the triangle, but I never found the owl. Just the triangles. Such an owl exists in Dijon. Or so I am told. We followed the little triangles yesterday, We didn’t find the owl. Just like in my dream, I think. Have I reached the point where my dreams are matching up with my reality. Oh, little owl, I am sorry we have to leave your city so soon and can’t find you or learn more about your story. We have an early sound check in Grenoble. Noel just said, “after all we are not on vacation”. How do you explain that to a little owl? Well I’m not really sure what a vacation feels like, but I do know what this tour so far feels like: a very sweet adventure. We have had two house shows in a row. Two homes that couldn’t have been more different. At the home of a grand lady in Tournai we performed salon style to family, friends and neighbors. A home filled with strange and marvelous objects carefully arranged and placed and the warmest people imaginable. Many of the objects seemed alive, as if having stepped right out of a fairy tale: a crocodile, a kind of bison head, a frog prince, a fish in a fish bowl. Our second house show was part of the Home Sweet Home Festival in Nancy organized by a motivated group of young people called “off kultur”, changing their scene and the way their community listens to music. The apartment we played at was by a canal that reminded us very much of the Landwehrkanal in Kreuzberg. Before the show we went to it’s bank and lay in the fresh spring, yes spring grass. Little daisies and dandelions. Luminous sun. We take off our shoes, we are wearing t-shirts. Hey, it’s spring. We drove straight into it. The last three days we have also done some sight-seeing. Walked the streets of Tournai with our host Catherine and her family and the streets of Nancy with the festival organizers Johann and Edith. We saw gargoyle fantasy creatures looming from gothic walls, art deco houses (In my mind I have moved into all of them), grand art nouveau entrances, boxes of chocolates, strange fluorescent green drinks, a parking lot flee marked, a man carrying a plaster figure of a cook onto the sidewalk in the morning, and crooked mediaeval houses leaning into the street of Dijon. Oh Dijon. I promise I will return and visit the little owl. Perhaps it’s not even little. Now we are in the car. Noel is driving. It seems to be summer outside. Fluffy clouds and traffic signs. Our next stop is Grenoble.

Precisely 40 years after your birth return to the city you were born under a stolen name
Ponder the skyline and how it has changed
Take a ride through the city with your friends
Go see a house about to be torn down
Go see a recently built sky scraper
Visit someone you barely know
Eat a local dish
Go see an exhibit
Receive instructions
Draw a self-portrait out of water
Wait for the phone to ring
Enter a house by a river and visit each floor of that house
Count stairs and stair cases
Walk across a river
Hold your breath as long as you can
Go to a local venue and bring an instrument of your choice
Hook up that instrument to cables wires and D.I. boxes
Stretch and breathe
Eat some more local food
Wait for people to arrive
Sing some songs
Listen to your friends sing some songs
Have conversation about stormy weather
Drink tea
Stay as long as your eyes will stay open
Go to a place you can sleep and close your eyes
Wake up and pack up
Drive to another country

Fehmarn. I did not know what to expect. An island close to Denmark. An island. I guess I expected island things and an ocean. Palm trees? We set up in the beautiful back room of “Cafe Liebevoll” and marveled at the acoustics. The room theater style and so we decided to put Kevin out of his sound-man job and and play unplugged. Once the audience was there we were so grateful for their listening and attentiveness. Awesome to get to play in this way, where you can hear everything and everything sounds beautiful and warm. After the show we made some friends and were very temped to learn all about Fehmarn night life, but the shy band that we are, we went back to the hostel and enjoyed a trip through time. The hostel in it’s perfect 60s set up where even the bed sheets seem to be from the 60s. In the morning we woke up to families screaming packing up from their easter break. But my grumpy morning mood didn’t last because we drove to the ocean. Katharinenhof, and walked along the stony rough beach and let the sun warm our hearts. Ocean. Oh. Ocean. We couldn’t see Denmark, but we had the feeling we might be able to swim across. I found very cool amber like stones and marveled at the fallen trees that lay across the beach. If every touring day could be like this. If it could always include a trip to the ocean. Dear Baltic Sea, it was lovely to visit, but we couldn’t stay. We drove back to Lübeck to play a short afternoon show in a beautiful bike shop that was taped by Wolkenkuckucksheim for their online tv. A wonderful band from Kiel called Herr Bösel played after us. They rocked the little bike shop and sent us off back on the autobahn singing along to their awesome tunes. We would have driven straight to Italy, tour-fever was in our bones. But the road took as back to Berlin to unpack and lay low for a few days. Next Thursday our adventure continues . . .

Begin. Good omens all around. No traffic driving to Lübeck. Grand clouds moving in the sky and the closer we got to Lübeck an afternoon sun blazed through them. By the time we arrived, we were showered in light. We went down to a Water and said hello to the ducks: good sign (water and ducks). Of course they are still pedaling ice to keep the water water, but the sun is warm and soon their winter job will come to an end. We find parking right away when we arrive in front of the venue. A few hours later Kaya, the sound guy, tells us they are ticketing outside and just in time we move the car to the other side where there is no neighborhood parking. Clearly a good sign. The parking gods are on our side. At Tonfink we get greeted by our lovely host Caro. There is a giant Monstera Deliciosa plant at the end of the room that climbs up the wall with its impressive jungle arms and giant feather leaves. Hey, once you start looking for something it appears everywhere. I have declared the Monstera plant a Susie plant. Just like Susie she’s from South America and she has the potential to grow giant. Ahhhhh. More signs: we have a back stage room. Yes. And in the backstage room there is a table cloth on a table and on the table cloth are lots of little dogs. Poodles, terriers, pugs, dachshund. And we have a surprise guest from Berlin, our friend Alex who brought a group of lovely ladies. When the show is about to start Caro comes out with a life sized pug money collector, introduces us and encourages the audience to feed the pug money after the show. Caro clearly is a lady in want of a dog, so we are in good company. The audience is lovely, warm and mischievous. I like a mischievous audience. Our accommodation is cozy, another good sign. A giant red flamenco fan at the head of my bed and another Monstera Deliciosa plant at the side of my bed. Oh. Now it’s morning. Little snow flakes and an the yet unexplored city of Lübeck outside. We will venture out and explore. Just as a side note. Not everything always has to be perfect and filled with good signs. The best stories are often when things go wrong. But it is very lovely when things go right or start right and when there are Monstera plants, little dogs, ducks and waters.

Back home. Snow outside. I’m cozy on the sofa drinking apple tea. Spring hasn’t arrived in Berlin. Not yet. But Susie things have started rolling and so I wanted to report a bit. Report: we have been recording. Working on a new album. There isn’t much to say yet, but I will give you a couple of details. There will be a spy story. A song about a con artist. A song sung by a plant. And a song about clouds. Something like that. I will keep you posted on the developments. Toby Goodshank made a little video when we were in the studio. You can check it out here: http://vimeo.com/60170448# Then last weekend Noel and I did a mini-tour trying to summon spring. Well we drove home yesterday in the snow, but we had a wonderful time. We started off in Lauenau which is near Hannover. An old Kesselhaus with a high ceiling and different levels. When we arrive we meet Camillo whose painter parents have renovated the old building to serve as a studio and as a space for concerts and locals to come together. Soon we meet a whole family and our sound man Robert. Everything smells like paint and inspiration. Right before we go on, Camillo introduces us ceremoniously and calls his father on the cellphone who is at the art fair in Karlsruhe. Camillo holds the phone to the microphone and the father, Tommi, welcomes everyone and informs us that he has sold 2 paintings. Everyone cheers. Then we get to play for that lovely warm audience. It’s fun to look around during the show. Lots of kind and unfamiliar faces. After the show we get to go upstairs and see the paintings of Eva-Susann Karsthof. Collages of many layers and images that surprise and almost seem to move. Lots of horses, fragments of horses, limbs. We spend the night in an old brewery called Felsenkeller, in what seems to be a suite. We even have a living room to sprawl out in. Everything is unusually luxurious, except for the rain. The next day we drive to Halle. We arrive there hungry and on a big square Noel picks our two “alternative looking” people and asks for a cafe recommendation. They send us to the NT Cafe, which we happily find. Vitrines by the large windows with old tea pots and tea cups. A proper Susie Asado place for tea. And an impressive hot chocolate menu. Oh. If we lived in Halle, this is where we would go and we do return the next day for breakfast and the waitress notices that we weren’t at our “usual spot”. Noel reads all the newspapers and I ponder the various tea cups and debate what to order from the hot chocolate menu. Oh. In Halle we play at a very old Gasthaus called Goldene Rose. So old that there is even a record of Mozart visiting there. We play in a beautiful cozy room that is lovely and dark and candles flickering. Sweet people who all seem to be happy Hallenser. Noel and I note that this clearly is a good place to live. It is all so fitting it being international women’s day. That is the “golden rose” makes me think of “a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose” makes me think of precious and interesting vaginas. Vaginas are a good thing to think about on international women’s day. I hope that’s what all of you think of too when you think of roses. The next day the audience at Courage im Volksbad in Magdeburg are still celebrating international women’s day and that makes me very hopeful. This is clearly something for more than just a day. We get lucky with another very well organized show, lovely light and sound by Mikro and a seamless time plan by Jacqueline and Anja. Even a backstage. We play two sets like fancy musicians and have some sweet conversations after the show. To top it all of we get to spend the night at a magical hostel called Ringel Hostel. My room has a lady sofa and a big round mirror that I can say good night to in my pajamas. The next day after a nurturing breakfast we drove home through the snow listening to the biography of Lotte Lenya and Kurt Weil. We only got to the second disc and are saving the rest for the April tour. Yes, April tour. Lots of adventures to come. To be continued in April . . .