new tour clips up! and random dept.

fucking, i forgot to mention in the last blog that i won two boston music awards: album of the year and best female vocalist.
thank you so much for voting….it worked. really, thank you guys.

in vancouver.
it’s nice here, and raining. the club is old and wooden and has balconies and shapes and that makes me happy.
i got Caught Up today, which was Good, and had a great lunch with tegan of tegan and sara, and feel like i’m in a weird sci-fi coastal twin warp since i saw sara in new york.
she, too, is smart as shit. i really love sitting down and dorking out with people about the music industry. tegan took me to a diner and the eighties music they were playing made my heart happy.
tomorrow jason webley is going to join the tour for a few days (surprise) and we’re going to fly the evelyn sisters into seattle to talk about their record.

we have a very, very, small dressing room.


katie kay has no room to do her tour managing work……….



speaking of the sexy miss katie kay, there are two BRAND SPANKING NEW tour documentary clips up…..

they are really, really good ones. if anyone out there is interested in HOW tour works, and who all the people i travel ARE and WHAT they do, we
decided to devote two episodes to them and their lives and jobs.
i love these people. they work really hard. i would love for you to see them in action plus they’re funny as shit.

you can see katie kay hiding the rider vodka, the inside of the bus, the magic of the soundboard, the fancy lights and how they work and
the manic world of backstage when 12 people try to fit into a space the sizer of a shoebox to get ready for the show….

chip also did a brilliant job editing these together….he has been working his ass off IN THE BUS.
more coming soon, but

WATCH!!!!!!





……………………………………………………………………

other Various And Sundry Things:

here’s a draft of the cover of the sheet music book.
it’s almost going to print. i changed the color of the AMANDA PALMER because it looked too halloweeny this way. and “straight” was mis-titled. fixed that.
i wrote an intro letter, but other than that and a collection of really gorgeous photos, this book doesn’t have the usual 2356 pages of song-stories. those are all up on whokilledamandapalmer.com.
has anybody gone over there?
it just occured to be i hav e never actually pimped that page from the blog.
that site has keys and clues to all the songs, all the album credits, tons of extra shit, and i wonder if anyone is seeing it.



sylvia made another fantastic AFP drawing………


some of you have been wondering about the increidble pianist who opened up for us in new haven, boston and new york.
her name is Tania Stavreva and she is a top-notch classical player who decided to go AWOL for a few nights and slay you all with her chops.
i’m hoping to bring her out again, i love the idea of bringing classical musicians to rock shows. so if we can pry her away from her upcoming gigs at carnegie hall
and such, we’ll do it.

here’s a photo of us post-show….not sure who took it, but it’s yay.

her site is:
http://www.taniastavreva.com

this….i love this shot. tania took it.
it’s the entire danger ensemble sleeping in the basement of the cloud club.
well, they’re not all sleeping. mark is maccing.
i like the wine.


speaking of the danger ensemble (and to balance out the attractive qoutient)
here’s a HOTTTT photo of them in new york at webster hall, taken by the wonderful miss lauren goldberg, photographer prodigy.

from left to right: kat, steven, tora, mark.


by the way, if anyone missed the opportunity to donate to the ensemble at the show because the boot came and went too fast,
you can donate online at: www.dangerensemble.com/donate

……………………..

later……..on the bus outside sacrmento…….must send this blog and fill in the blanks later.
things are going well, but instense, crazy, head full, heart full, mindful, mindless.
bear with me.
lots to catch up on, lots to tell.
lots of love


AFP

dispatch from aspen & salt lake

hola

we’re in aspen colorado.
everybody here is skiing.
it’s weird.
we’re playing next to an ice-skating rink.
i did a little piece of local promotion this morning on local TV in front of the chairlifts.


i forced these children to take a picture with me.
i might send this as my family christmas card and try to convince people i’ve been living a secret double life.
first i would have to start sneding family christmas cards. but it would be worth it.

rock star by night.

But by day, I’ve been breeding, working at a fabulous independant PR firm outside of Boulder where I also volunteer part-time at the country club, when I’m not busy raising my
three WONDERFUL boys, Hunter, Bradley and Jake and my youngest one, our “little princess” on the far right, Caitlin! Here’s the whole gang about to hit the slopes in Aspen!! I don’t remember where my husband Steve is in this pic, he must have been locked up in a public bathroom nearby smoking crack and getting a blow job from a cheap resort hooker!!

Lots of Love from Casa Famiglia!
xxx
Amanda, Steve, Hunter, Bradley, Jake, Caitlin and Buster (our golden retriever, not pictured!!!!)



good lord.

tons of people tuned into the webcast from neil’s house, and lots of people have been asking if it was archived.
yes, indeed:
part un: http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/918283
part dos: http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/918336

watch at your leisure. i’m getting excited about the possibilities of where i can webcast from.
chairlifts. caves. little deserted islands. i’ll surely be doing more. send in suggestions. i’m open.
i’ll read you bedtimes stories. i’ll demonstrate yoga poses. i’ll show you my apartment and how i make an omelette.
i’ll take you in the bath.

……………………

The Science Wrote:

”I told a friend yesterday [jamming out with my clam out to Leeds United, nonetheless!] that I would kill a man to live your life [you move me]. I would do anything to make money doing what I love, what I am best at, if only just enough to get around to the next city, next show. The thought of every little stressor on tour gives me an uncontrollable orgasm.
I want to sleep in a parking lot in the name of art.”

AFP:

get in the van with your band and i give you six months before you start thinking that people with normal lives have it pretty good.
the grass is always greener. i wouldn’t, however, trade this for anything.
…………………………


photographic dept of win:
me sporting the infamous squid hat, taken in toronto while i played ukelele on the bar:

(kay-elle)
…………………………………..


steven said it well this morning.
it’s been a long tour. it’s getting harder to feel.

i’m feeling more than i want, and nothing at all.

people at this cafe leave their portable coffee mugs hanging from hooks on the ceiling.
i will put them in background of photo.

i’ve been biting my fingers too much. they hurt. that means something’s not right.

being at neil’s was just like heaven. we all felt like bugs in rugs.
neil and i signed apology cards for everyone who ordered the $100 pre-order package, and then sent them to kyle, who is signing them too.
so heads up, your book is coming late. sorry…..but worth it. i promise. the front of the card is a gorgeous print from the book. we tried.



neil and me and zoe and tora and kat went to a trout farm and watched them kill the fish. it hurt. i might go vegan again.
then we ate them. neil wrapped them in newspaper to cook them. and he sort of fucked them up. and got upset. seeing neil gaiman upset about
ruining his fish wrapped in newspaper was the most adorable thing i think i’ve ever seen. we all went for walks. we cooked. we played with the cats
and the dog. life, for a moment, felt more lifelike. neil was the perfect host. he’s one of the most generous people i know.

i keep wondering how i got so lucky to have meet all these wonderful people in my life and then i remember the answer.
jason webley.

we played in denver last night.
me and stevem and tora went to a GLBT drop-in center for teenagers called Rainbow Alley after soundcheck to hang out with the kids.
the good folks of the matthew shepard foundation had set it up.
amazing, weird, heartening, heartbreaking.
and then we managed to sneak 27 of then into the show. a lot of them had never been to a live concert before.

denver is also not many miles from columbine high school.

i told my story about “strength through music” and lyndon, as usual, read off the names of some of the dead.

one of the dead’s best friends happened to be in the audience. she came and talked to me and steven after the show.

there were long hugs, quiet.

a girl with big, thick, shiny red lines of scars on her arms came and asked me to draw something on her cuts so she could tattoo it as a reminder not to cut.
i copied steven’s heart tattoo onto her arm, it was just the right shape. steven finished it. we hugged her too.

i didn’t eat much yesterday.

the altitude was high, it does things to you.

right before the show i looked in the mirror at one point and decided to cry for a second.
i did. it was fine.

i went straight to bed. but before i went to bed i saw steven in the hallway of the bus.
we looked at each other and we held each other and we knew and i stopped and was there.
it was a Good Day
i’m tired. heavy tired.

salt lake tomorrow. then off. then the northwest, which will be wonderful.
we’re almost done with the states. fuck….aie.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

one day later -
just got offstage in salt lake.
omg. FUCK the people here know how to scream. i <3 SLC.

aspen, on the other hand, was just BIZARRE.
aspen is a SKI RESORT with a population of a few dozen people. and with a night club in it.
we sold, i believe, 35 tickets.
so we turned the night into a piano karaoke party. lyndon and i played “the rose” over and over again and forced members of the audience
to sing while steven prompted them with the lyrics, sometimes through charades (you should have seen “some say love it is a razor”…..awesome).
chip got footage. will post.

some girl kept requesting “sing” so i sang it. and forgot all the words. so i just handed her the mic and she sang it. and she didn’t know the words either.
it was an incredibly wonderful fuckshow.

tomorrow off in walla walla washington.

keep telling people about the rest of the dates if you know anybody there.
lots of word of mouth has pumped our ticket sales and that has been awesome.
it’s us. tickets & times and everything as always up at amandapalmer.net…..

Dec 11 - Showbox Theatre Seattle, Washington
Dec 12 - Wonder Ballroom Portland, Oregon
Dec 13 - Harlow’s Sacramento, California
Dec 15 - Bimbo’s 365 Club San Francisco, California
Dec 16 - Henry Fonda Theatre Los Angeles, California

……………………………………….

slight blast from the past/dept. of radiohead:

lee, my wonderful landlord, took this great clip of me playing fake plastic trees on ukulele at bullmoose records (love) in portland, maine on record release week.
i kind of love how simple it is.



…………………………………

a message from steven:

The Danger Ensemble are seeking a sublet or a vacant living space for to 2 or 3 to live in through from Xmas through January in BOSTON.. Not too expensive, centralish, ideally equipped with wifi and heat (coz it’s FUCKING cold in Boston!) Also, looking for a rehearsal or development space (ideally with some lighting and interesting archetectural features) or a local company to partner with for new theatre work being developed - suggestions, recommendations and offer for both of the above can be emailed to steven [AT] amandapalmer [DOT] net…  thank you thank you merry xmas and love.
……………………………………

love


AFP

ghettofabulous

it’s late at night. i’m in zoe and katie kay’s hotel room in detroit. about to go to the bus and sleep in the parking lot.
my ghettofaublous life.
detroit is cold. and (sorry guys) really depressing. we play here tomorrow.

some things make life better.
the show in toronto was off the hook. outside, it was freezing and sleeted. inside, full of thawed-out love.
we got our best tour gift of the week: a red squid hat. i’ll try to get a picture. it looks great on steven.

i am feeling very buried, very humanless, and very behind.
i have too much email to answer. i am trying. i am failing. this is ok.
today was supposed to be a day to catch up and i could barely field what came in.
but we all still went to an afternoon yoga class and ate together. life has it’s priorities.
we’re all sort of hitting the cranky tour wall.
egos are getting more fragile.
a general plague of tour PMS.
the cold isn’t helping.

this amazing picture by kyle cassidy, shot in philly, makes life better:


my old friend zea barker surfaced with some photos of me painted up as a bronze commuter/office worker in 1999.
don’t ask. it was a public art installation in south station in boston.




hot?

also, in the winter-y feel-good dept:

a new version (the very first time i performed it with jason webley, right after we wrote it) of “electric blanket” is now up on youtube:


so awesome.
and
speaking of jason webley…..
he asked me to pass this along:

“I’ve got a little winter sale going on this month. Among other things, you can pick up all five of my albums for $39. I also have two brand new t-shirts, including an Evelyn Evelyn “Purple Two-Headed Elephant” design that is sure to be all the rage this season. Don’t
be the foolish looking person not wearing one after the holidays!

Any order this month over $30 comes with a free mix CD called “Winter Comes” which includes eleven unreleased songs by some of my friends and collaborators, including Sxip Shirey, Geoff Berner, Zoe Vermillion and myself. It also has a sneak peak at one of my favorite tracks from the forthcoming “Evelyn Evelyn” full-length album. Shhhhh!

Order at my web-site:
http://www.jasonwebley.com

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
-jason”




yay the evelyn sisters.

sleep tight
sleep tight
please don’t let there be a shooting here tonight


xxx
afp

introducing chip & the WKAP tour documentary on youtube.

hola.

so…i was in seattle last year, hanging out with jason webley, evelyn evelyn and the guys from estradasphere.
and while i was staying at the palatial estradasphere estates, i met the fabulous chip yamada. chip was sort of the michael pope of the estradasphere bunch, he created all their live video and was an honorary member of the posse.

he shot the only live evelyn evelyn footage that exists on youtube, and shot a bunch of footage from my solo shows at 608, and most famously, shot the totally impulsive fremont zombie walk video. (i love that one).

and now….i’ve stolen him away to come on this US tour and he’s been secretly shooting everything, editing on the fly and now after a long wait we are going to start throwing footage up.
it’s an ongoing documentary with footage of just about everything and we’ll hopefully have about 8 or 10 episodes by the end.
the fantasy is that by watching this footage, you guys will really get a sense of the danger ensemble, what our life on tour is like, what the crew does….and what the stage show looks like if you happen to live in anchorage or bali and can’t make any of these shows.

episode numero zero (introducing the tour, ladies and gents):


episode numero uno (an interview with the danger ensemble, lyndon and amanda):


if your friend is being a betch or a deck and refusing to come to the show with you, send them these links.
yay chip.

speaking of fun things to watch, currently backstage in toronto at the mod club, watching my face freeze off.
last night in pittsburgh was sublime.
we did a secret last-minute webcast, a quickie with me and the whole danger ensemble after we got offstage last night….
part 1 is up here, and part 2 is up here.
we’ll be doing another (longer) one soon, they’re fun as hell. party on the internet!!
wine excuse! stay tuned.

they’re predicting mad snow tonight. i have two cold sores. i hate winter. i really do. even with the awesome hats and all.

i’ve fallen into a weird tour blur.
i don’t feel very human today.

Love
AFP

happy thanksgiving, mr. stevens

hi.

i just read a review of my monday show in boston in the boston globe. it was fantastic except the end.

both shows in boston were sublime. packed to the gills, everybody loved the everything.
i’m at home in my wonderful warm little apartment, drinking a pot of green cactus tea i bought in tilburg on the last day of the european tour and listening to cat stevens.

does my life sound bad?

but i need him right now.

“Restraint isn’t Palmer’s strong suit, and she doesn’t hold back, even when less might be more. After two-plus hours of song and dance (and a fun, if odd, send-off with Palmer and company lip-synching Rihanna’s “Umbrella”), the show had hit its zenith. But not in Palmer’s mind. She returned for two encores with her opening bands (the Builders and the Butchers and Vermillion Lies) for a blowsy, all-together-now rendition of her own “Leeds United” and a silly cover of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.” Finally, this is how Palmer wanted to go out: in a shower of confetti as she leaned back on the piano bench and took in the adulation, now and forever the life of her own party.”
(www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2008/11/26/amanda_palmer_is_alive/)

ow. backhand, dude.
sometimes i think i shouldn’t read my own reviews.
it does hit a nerve. having spent a lifetime fighting against the urge to stew in my own greedy tendencies and to try to morph them into something RELATIVELY healthy, i’m still a ball a nerves whenever someone, ANYone, throws any sort of insult my way suggesting that i’m a narcissistic hole.
a friend of mine crept on me in a cafe not long ago and spied watching clips of fans covering dresden dolls and amanda palmer songs on youtube. he laughed: “you’re the biggest narcissist i’ve ever personally known.” it stung. and i find that ironic. i always consider it a two-way street.
me? just me? aren’t these bedroom-ridden 15-year-old fans strumming their guitars in their cameras just as narcissistic as i am? wouldn’t they be happy to know i was watching?
i feel generous when i watch those clips. i comment on them. i try to connect and encourage. am i deluded? i don’t feel deluded. fuck it.

the shows in boston were the same way. our set in new york was about under two hours. our set in boston that night was over two and half.
i made the sets extra long because i knew that the audience would be full of old school fans. we were in a small club. i wanted the shows to be extra special.
i played songs that i hadn’t played in years (slide, kaledrina, boyfriend in a coma, a bunch of covers) and the danger ensemble custom-made two pieces just for the show.
we all came off stage feeling high. it felt like the perfect show. to us.
to the people (dozens of them, some fans, some friends, some family, some randoms) who were in the audience. the feedback was incredible.
i could have played for another half hour. i always want more.

but the boston globe and the people at the show who are casual fans…do they care? am i really just wanking and preaching to the choir?
i think i generally ride the line pretty well.
i don’t think i wank. and when i DO think i’m wanking, i try to be conscious of it and balance out the wanking with enough wank-free material that i can pay back my wank-karma.

this all brings up a point (and the nerve) that’s becoming important to me lately.

cat stevens, ladies and gents (who, let’s not forget, abandoned his career altogether after selling 60 million records, and converted to islam in the 1970s):

“I never wanted to be a star, I never wanted to travel far
I only wanted a little bit of love
So I could put a little love in my heart
I never wanted to be la-de-da, go to parties ‘avec le bourgeois’
I only wanted to sing my song well,
So I could ring a small bell in your heart”

there is a collection of angry men who are railing against me.

it’s no longer me & my band against the world.
they are now looking at me as a woman alone on stage, and they don’t like it.
and they only have the past to guide them, because that is how they think. in their minds i will either turn into:
1) madonna meets liza minelli (and play madison square garden and make them millions of dollars) or
2) a completely cult phenomenon (and play clubs of 500-1000 people in every city and make them no money)

they think i’m doing everything in my power to become the latter. they are only partly right.

i know that chasing fame and hugeness for the sake of it would be the way to lose everything i love.
it holds no attraction for me. it wouldn’t give me anything i don’t already have.
i also know that only by doing WHAT I WANT the WAY I WANT is the way to achieve anything real, anything of substance.
and it will work. and i know that because i’ve seen it work.
people don’t respond to bullshit.
people have enough bullshit to choose from already.
and the people who DO respond to bullshit….i don’t really care about them. i just don’t. i don’t need to.
they can buy the new nickelback record and go their merry ways. if they don’t connect with me, it’s ok.
i won’t beg them to understand me, wax & starve myself, write shiny pop songs that they might want to buy.
why on EARTH would i want to do that? for WHAT?

let’s remember:
i’m at home in my wonderful warm little apartment, drinking a pot of green cactus tea i bought in tilburg on the last day of the european tour and listening to cat stevens.

does my life sound bad? do i sound unhappy?
i’m not.

i’m only unhappy because so many angry men are trying to convince me to be unhappy, and it pains me to have to spend a lot of my energy ignoring them.

emily went in for a meeting at the label and they refused (REFUSED) to believe her when she said that amanda palmer had no burning desire to write commercial hits and sell five million records.
they just refuse to believe it. they refuse to believe that i could actually be HAPPY earning an decent living doing this and not being a fucking superstar. it’s really disgusting.

it’s so simple.
i really just want to enjoy myself. i want to be happy. i want to make people happy.
i do not need to be rich to do that.
i need to have enough money to tour, and to not be anxious about where my rent check is coming from.
i do not need money for mansions, sports cars, hookers and blow.
i need enough money for yoga classes and occasional sushi. it’s not a lot.
i do not need to be mega-famous to be happy. i think i’d hate, especially it if i lost my general privacy.

i say this to these men and they look at each other and wink and laugh.
and they say: “amanda, we know you’re lying….and we don’t believe you for a second. now, let’s talk about how to make you gigantic so we can all be rich.”
and i say: ” i think you didn’t quite hear me. i think you missed the point completely, actually.”
and still they don’t want to hear what they don’t want to hear. they say “cottage industry! small! blah blah! glass ceiling! cottage industry! cottage industry!”

and i say

YES!!!!
exactly!
in the words of mr. cat: i don’t want to live in a palace. NONE of us do. it’s no fun.
cottage sounds way better. warmer. more fun.
i can always make a bigger cottage. i can do anything. i can make a giant, ani-difranco-sized cottage.
this is what we call “keeping it real”, mr. men.
i am sorry that our agendas are in conflict.

it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.
we’re all going to my mom’s house.
i can’t wait to cook with everybody.

i am….thankful for every single one of you.
i can’t put it into words…you guys are directly making me, and my happiness, possible right now.
there are no hard decisions here, it’s much too obvious.
but i can’t take you for granted.

thank you for making me possible.

i am thankful for the danger ensemble and my crew, for coming on this insane ride with me.
i am thankful for everything that has made it possible for me to be sitting here in my warm apartment with this amazing tea from far away.

but mostly, i am thankful that my life has brought me to the point where i can look around at exactly what i’ve got and know that it’s enough.

i could want nothing more right now.
and i know that so deeply. and that is fucking priceless.

“I don’t want to live in a palace
No, I don’t want to live in no palace
Oh I don’t want to live in no palace
There’s too many empty rooms

I’d like to live on a commune
Yes, I’d like to live on a commune
I’d like to live on a commune

and people can call me a hippie.”

i’m with cat.

happy thanksgiving my hippie fucking friends.
i’m plenty happy to be the life of my own party as long as everybody else still wants to be here.
i think it’s a grand one.

Love
AFP,

looking down

the first show in nashville was … good.
but awkward.

the lights and sound at the club were terrible and the hardcore band from downstairs decided to come up and talk at the bar throughout my show.
i finally just had myself carried (by some really kind dude from the first row) over to the bar, i played them a ukulele song, it shut them up.
apart from them, there was shitloads of love in the room. i love signing at the end of the night. somebody showed me a tattoo that wrapped around their whole lower leg
that said “you’ll sing somday”, and they had the music notation for “hurt” by NIN wrapped around the other leg. it was very beautiful….

the danger ensemble has created a new piece for “have to drive” and it makes us all cry. i still can’t believe what we’re doing.
are we really doing this?
yes.
we are.
ok.

my 7-month relationship is tumbling headfirst down the stairs and i’m standing at the top, looking down, seeing myself thwopping headfirst onto the landing.
it feels so different than it used to. i’ve been single for so many years. i forgot about this part.
i didn’t used to be able to stand up here and just watch.
i used to be more tangled up in that tumbling freefall, head hitting every step of the way, unable to grasp the situation as i got the wind and the shit knocked out of me, bam clonk bam fuck bam bam ow.
now i’m looking down.
i can’t laugh, but i can’t cry, either. i’m standing still. feeling hurt and feeling raw and feeling it all.
feeling my heart peeling open down there, turning itself into a net, prepping to catch that bruised blur that looks like me before it hits the floor.

last night we had a family dinner … joe (the main engineer of WKAP) took us to a restaurant called Mirror in nashville (if you go, you must try the white chocolate soup & the polenta fries).
and i just sat there. and ate. and looked around at what i had. right then. this. now. here.

my old friend doni showed up with his scooter…he’s one of the ex-drummers from trail of dead, he and his girlfriend beth used to be in a band called forget cassettes, and doni played drums with me at that birthday gig
i did in nashville last year. he’s a when-i’m-here friend, a good one, we find each other when i’m in nashville.

my father used to drive me around on the back of his motorcycle, it’s one of my favorite things.

i had a helmet with no visor -
i felt wind smacking against my face and the water tearing up in my eyes and just moved through space, fast. this. now. here. but faster. but not.
i was happy.
i always want to buy a motorcycle. but i know i’d kill myself within a few weeks.

doni talked (well, shouted over the roar of the wind and the engine) about how you can get used to the cold, about how you can relax your body’s reaction when it hits you.
it sounds weird, he said, you actually just let the cold pass through you.

like a sieve, i said.

he said: exactly.

funny. this is what we’ve been talking about lately, me and my friend.
how to be a human sieve, how to let things pass through you: the cold, the future, other people’s anger, the pain of the world, your own bullshit…it’s possible.
it’s easy, but it doesn’t seem easy. it’s a paradox.

he drove me up to one of the highest points in nashville, a grass circle with big electrical boxes on it.
and it was foggy over the city but clear above our heads, the clouds were moving very very fast over a full moon.
the moon tore through the clouds at each moment, erasing them for a split second.
we looked down at the city. and there we were there.

i’m walking without crutches but with the aircast, and as i dragged my foot over the wet grass, doni told me i looked like a zombie.

i said:

“braaaaaaaaaiiiiiins”

and he took me back to our hotel. say hi to beth, i said, and your roommate emily with the painted-on mouth from last night. and see you next time i’m back.
and i laid on the bed, phone to head, eyes shut tight, trying to stay at the top of the stairs.


asheville tonight.

i <3 my electric blanket (european tour re-cap)

safely home from the european tour.

simple re-cap:

23 shows played, not counting all-ages convergences and weird radio shit 1 foot squashed by irish automobile
25-65 european cookies & chocolates consumed, justified by crippled self-pity
12-20 cappuccinos consumed (more crippled self-pity)
5 pounds gained, making belly look rather dough-y
2 irish crutches &
1 english moonboot now in collection of possessions
2 cousins and
1 new cousin-baby visited in berlin
1 full-cast einstuezende neubauten cover filmed backstage in dresden (hang on, we’ll post it at some point)
5 australian performer-friends now very close to heart
1 sister dragged onstage to sing in utrecht
1 pair of ironic socks with che guevara face purchased in london
1 argyle sock & 1 clog lost to stupid foot getting run over
1 black jeans pantleg sacrificed to scissors in irish operating room from same stupid foot getting run over
2 gift squids obtained, one larger than the other
3 chairs,
1 cabaret table,
1 tablecloth &
1 metal fan auctioned at last show
1 handmade quilt brought into collection
1 electric blanket purchased, serenaded and auctioned
1 new song written (with jason, to electric blanket)
1 pretty dress purchased in tilburg
2-3 personality crises narrowly averted
1 solo european tour completed in fucking style

so many people helped us. so many people brought us food and gave us places to stay. so many people loved our show and hugged us and thanked us for fighting the good fight. i feel tired as hell and lucky as fuck to be doing this, i really do. i really really do.

we had an impormptu auction the last night of tour, since we’d collected all these stage props and shit.
it went so well i think we might auction shit EVERY night on the Us tour. why not? i have 7 guitars to get rid of from the guitar hero video. those might be good. and maybe i can finally unload my entire pony collection. i think it’s time.

this tour gave me a mad perspective on everything.
a lot of the venues that we were playing were repeats of places i’d played with the dolls back in 2004.
the support i had from the record label was minimal and it really felt like starting all over again, road-warrior style.
but that almost made things better. because the shows were so good, so raw, so real and everyone felt it.
like we were doing something fundamental. and i saw the sales numbers for the record coming in from the states (abysmal, by industry standards) and saw that i had OUTSOLD the record label with the sales through the website, my blog, and the email list, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks: it’s me and the fans, that’s it.
i woke up to and went to sleep with that fact. i am doing this.
and while it could have depressed me, it fed me.
it made me even more grateful.
when i hung out after the shows and signed things and met people and thanked them for coming, it was more profound than it ever has been.
i would think: this person bought a ticket for the show. this person stuck around to say thank you. without this person, i’d have nothing. i wouldn’t be able to do this…i owe this person my life, pretty much.
i felt so much love and gratitude for all those people that i couldn’t get too far down about anything else.
stuff might be broken, but the basic shit WORKS. the record has been a huge critical success. people think the show is amazing. the ART works. everything else, all of that will ultimately fall away and be unimportant.
i feel like i’m starting all over again.
but it feels good. it feels right. i feel like a little warrior with my bad-ass, unpromoted record under my arm and my team and supporters as an army behind me.

i can’t fucking wait to bring this tour to the states.
it’s going to be amazing.

i love you guys.

from comments:

steeeve wrote: Oh that wake up process. The way the seconds of blissful enlightenment decay into dismal unenlightenment. Fuck. Really you’re rebooting your ego and your soul. I am terrible at this and spend a ridiculous amount of my life doing it. It occurs that “sleep” on a your trust mac is really a misnomer. It’s a nap. Sleep is a reboot… my sleep reboots like Windows. Anyway thanks for being the artist and making pay attention to all this. Apologies for being such a geek.

AFP responds: this is so true.
following this metaphor further, you’re TECHNICALLY not supposed to lug your computer around without fully shutting down. i never learn this lesson, and carry around a napping computer. maybe it cannot get full rest this way?


tour re-cap photo dept:
a typical night in the bunk

backstage, having a postmodern mac moment with zoe.
we’re taking hall-of-mirrors pictures of each other with photobooth:


strength through music….





steven and kat in guitar hero….


kat and tora in “coin-operated boy”….








lyndon:

(photos by ruspace on flickr)

blake says, in paris at La Boule noir:


me & zoe:


with steven and mark:

photo by Tibor Kuijs

with little cousin freddy in berlin:


heidelberg:


katie kay, wicked american apparel, on the Bus Of Love:


an amazing tour present from sylvie:


the first official handmade AFP onesie, given to 3-month pregnant laura in holland. (steven on left):


hot:


jason & amanda & the electric blanket:

(photo by jetsque from flickr)

here’s us singing our new favorite song….”electric blanket”, inspired by the temperature battle on the bus.
i was a member of Team Cold. Jason was a neutral party. dave, our soundguy, was on Team Warm.
it starts a little slow, bear with it.



lyndon & amanda:

(photo by oliver.peel on flickr)

the last supper, in tilburg.
note squid centerpiece, care of our friends walter and edrie
(that’s katie kay, mark and steven’s blurry mug):


one last and important note, and i’ll remind about this later….
we’ve been passing the hat every night for the danger ensemble & lyndon, all of whom came on this tour for NO MONEY, since the budget is so tight.
people have been hella generous and we all want to thank you guys from the bottom of our hearts.
lots of people in europe were blowing us away by donating 50 and 100 euro bills. holy shit. we love you.
it would be impossible to keep them on tour without your help. we’ll be doing the same thing in the states, please give generously. this is their life-money.
lots of folks asked if there was a place to donate money to the danger ensemble online, and there wasn’t.
so steven made one:
www.dangerensemble.com/donate

and there you can donate to your heart’s content.


rock
fucking
on,
AFP

Waking Up: a break-down

There is that moment when you wake up and don’t know where you are, a brief twilight zone as your consciousness starts to take root and colorfully flood fill your brain with concerns, identity, particulars. Conrad, from Trail of Dead, wrote a song about this; apparently in some culture or another it’s also called the Witch’s Web. I was just reading an incredible interview with Jeff Mangum where he talks about trying to hang out there as much as possible. He calls it “active imagination”. I’ll find the link.

When I wake up in my tour bunk, I’ve been noticing that my personal flood fill has been getting very specific and orderly.
in order:

1. Is it morning?

Usually, American tour buses have closed galley-hallway with doors at either end. This means that you cannot tell what time of day it is unless you go into the front or back lounge. This European bus is different from any I’ve been on – it’s a double-decker with a large second-floor window above the driver’s window with a little look-out nest. There is only one seat. This is the coveted seat. The nest area is separated from the bunk galley by a thin curtain, and my bunk is right next to the curtain. So, upon waking, if there is light coming from behind the curtain, I can determine if it is indeed day. If it’s pitch black, chances are it’s Not Day (unless you’re in the UK, in which case it’s probably raining and it’s not worth getting up, or even existing, anyway).

2. Why does my foot hurt?

Good question, WTF? I’ve been sleeping with my right foot propped up on a elaborate sculpture I create nightly out of my clothes bag, my back-pack and three pillows. This keeps my foot elevated, and supposedly, healing. Upon waking, however, I have no idea what the hell is going on. I move my foot microscopically in one direction or the other and my brain sends itself messages of sheer confusion regarding the lack of toe control and throbbing clunkiness. I then slowly start to recall that it’s a dysfunctional piece of meat at the moment and, like clockwork, feel like an idiot for having let my foot get run over by a car in Belfast. I then forgive myself for being spacey, American and human, and move onto the next question.


-break, to help your visualization….here’s a photo that tora took of me, last week, in my bunk -



3. Where am I?

This is a really interesting phenomenon when touring on a bus. Because often, this is ACTUALLY an impossible question to answer. On a bus, yes. Absolutely. That part is simple. But where is the bus? Not so simple. When I tour I try to pay attention to what city is coming next but sometimes I just don’t check. Today I woke up and it went like this: On the bus. Check. In Europe. Yes. Bus would not drive me to America, Which country? Not sure. Flippy flippy flippy flippy flippy…mind file….zurich. Brain hurts. What country is that in. Ow, brain hurts. Switzerland. What a funny name for a country. Yes. Onwards.

Sometimes i will wake up at the crack of dawn and the bus is parked in some foreign situation (a filling station, a strange parking lot miles from the venue because the venue doesn’t have bus parking) and I’ll just sit there, wondering where the hell we are. Not knowing can be very wonderful. I know we’re on our way somewhere. I trust the bus driver with my life (we all do). We have the Best Bus Driver Ever on this tour – I’ve never seen anything like it. It is standard for drivers to be grumpy and distant – Neil is like a cross between a british butler and a soccer coach. He’s been helping me out all the time with my foot, doing little errands and favors for the crew, helping me with the signing line at the end of the night and taking pictures with fans….he even grabbed me his personal lawn chair (complete with beer cosy!!!!) the other night and set it up in the parking lot next to the bus so I could have a naughty cigarette (my first, and hopefully last, of tour) outside with the opening band. He’s a class act. I wish he could be our driver forever. Drivers come with the buses. You rent them. You can request specific dirvers, and they can request you, but you can’t always get what you want.

4. What’s wrong?
(a.k.a. Bitch and Complain)

My now, my consciousness is fully formed and a flood of ego and pain starts to descend. I don’t think about what’s pleasant and nice and happy. If anything is wrong, here’s where it starts to say hello for the day. It is fair to say that I then spend approximately 13-15 seconds of my day (before this moment) actually enlightened. We should work on stretching this out. Today? Several concerns on the front-burner. A hard phone conversation late last night. A small helping of existential despair. Strange old wounds and feelings being dredged up tonight with visits from old friends. Dealing with the merch situation, hitting order deadlines for the US tour, getting out of the bunk is going to be kind of a pain because my foot is a piece of meat. Remembering the doctor’s visit from yesterday (no improvement, surgery not possible because of potential bone-shattering, 6-8 more weeks on crutches projected by the stern german orthopedist, fuck). Body cranky from lack of movement and stomach getting dough-like from consumption of European Pastries sans exercise to burn them away. Voice starting to cave in a little bit. Bitch and Complain. Ok. Check.

5. What is today?

Now that I’ve become thoroughly neurotic and ego-conscious, I start flipping through what’s About to Happen. Show day? Off day? Good city? Bad City? Fucking, Anything worth being excited about? The brain-chatter gets louder. There’s some phone interviews today with the states. Soundcheck. Show. Everybody is in a generally blessed-out mood because our show in Heidelberg was magic..the best one of the tour. Beat London. We were high. Then we stayed in Heidelberg for a day off and everybody wandered the fairy-tale cobble-stone alleys, walked up to the castle on the hill and generally felt happily trapped in a postcard. I sat my crippled self at Café Journal* all day, catching up on work. We all ate a family dinner at a sushi restaurant. This counts as a Good Day. I then haul my bod out of bed, drag my club foot to the bathroom, pee, make tea (these two things take three times as long with a club foot) and start my day as a fully conscious, neurotic and unenlightened being. And so it goes.

Life On Tour = Not The Romantic Life of Excitement & Intrigue That Most People Think It Is.


But, eh, in general?

I have to say: the tour in general feels a little too good to be true.
Everybody is so wonderful to each other and it feels like a very happy family.
We all talk a lot about Real Things.

Miss Laura Keating (aka Miss Merch, aka the lovely girl from whom you buy your shirts, undies and CDs) is pregnant. She’s been dealing with morning sickness and we all try to make good baby jokes. By the time we get to some places in the states, she’ll be four or five months along and you’ll be able to visit her glowing belly at the merch table and buying a t-shirt will be sort of like visiting Lourdes. Her healing pregnant powers will calm and amaze you and also compel you to spend all of your money on Amanda Fucking Palmer merchandise. She never puts out a tip jar in Europe (she gets blank, confused looks) but she’ll have it out in the states. Give money to the pregnant lady! It’s like directly saving the children! Speaking of which:

I’ve been announcing this from stage every night - if you’ve seen the show you’ll know and if you haven’t you’ll be hit up - but all of the Australians (The Danger Ensemble plus Lyndon the violinist, who has now been dubbed Violyndon) came on this tour for zero salary. The tour isn’t turning any profit because of the cost of the bus and crew and I just didn’t have any money to pay them, all I could do was cover their flights and promise to feed them. So every night we’re passing the hat for them (well, they’re passing the hat for them, and they’re not using hats, they’re using hot lace-up boots and other fine footwear). Everyone has been extremely generous and they’re making enough money to live and eat (though it is hilarious when we all eat out together because everyone from the danger ensemble pays their bill in few pounds of loose change – earning huge points with the waitstaff). Anyway. I wonder if this would work with just any audience … but whatever the case, you guys are making our tour work. Directly. Thank you for being so awesome.
Steven’s working on a donation website in case anyone didn’t get a chance to give, I’ll send the link when it’s up.

Zoe Keating, sister of Pregant Laura and cellist extraordinaire has been slaying every night and the fans over here love her stuff. She and Jason Webley have been opening up (sometimes Zoe goes first, usually Jason does) every night and the crowd eats them up. She’ll be on the states tour so you’ll get to see her do her thing … she records samples of herself playing cello and then loops them and plays over them, and the result (since she’s a killer player with incredible improv skills) is like a cinematic suite of pure audio bliss. She’s wonderful and calming to be around, and having sisters on the bus is…hot.


Time to Do Zurich.



Love,
AFP (and tora, and zoe, we’re having a mac party)

p.s. tons of people have asked me if i’m endorsed by Apple.
no. i wish. then i would get free stuff. i just heart my mac. if any of you work at mac and want to get my ass endoresed, GO FOR IT.

p.p.s. that amazing interview with jeff mangum:
www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/feature/31406-interview-neutral-milk-hotel



*Café Journal is actually no longer Café Journal. It has been purchased by a larger café chain and is now called Café Extrablatt. This was not a good thing; the music was awful and the vibe has been destroyed. I briefly lived in Heidelberg when I was 22. I’d just graduated from college and had been offered a scholorship to Heidelberg University. I didn’t want to go to school really, but they were offering me free money. And I was not ready to get a job. And I sort of loved germany. I decided to accept it and go. I spent the summer in Harvard Square, street performing. I fell in love with Jonah. That was not handy. I left him in September and installed myself at a little student dorm in Heidleberg, waiting for classes to start. About 5 days after my arrival, I decided I’d made a huge mistake. I didn’t want to go to grad school. I didn’t want to live in Heidelberg. I wanted to go home, continue being in love, start my life as a musician. I wondered if I was just afraid, or menstrual, or blinded by naïve feelings. And I was firmly entrenched in a new plan. The people who had given my my scholorship had gone out of their way to hook me up with an apartment, money, insurance, a bank account…I sat at Café Journal for several hours a day, scribbling in my blank black book, trying to decide what to do. I tried to tune into my gut. My gut changed it’s mind every few hours. I hated my own guts. I finally just took the plunge. I took a deep breath and I left, having only lived there for about three weeks. I am glad.

greetings from sunny dresden

in dresden today, at the same club the dolls played a few years ago….

it’s gorgeous…with a ceiling that makes you want to move in forever.
*wander wander*
steven just took this photo of me with my mac.
disco ball!



please notice that i have a SEXY NEW technologically advanced AIR-CAST MOON-BOOT on my foot.
i went to the royal free hospital in london. they hooked that shit up.
they also told me that i might need surgery on my toe.

here be the “oblique” x-ray.
notice how on the bottom joint of the big toe there’s a little chunk that’s disconnected….
sad. that little chunk of bone might need surgery to be able to re-attach to it’s friend.



owwww. i’m going to the hospital in heidelberg tomorrow to see what the german doctors say.
i am terrified that their GERMAN EFFICIENCY is going to lead to an over-enthusiastic assessment of my condition and i will leave the hospital with my foot amputated
and a very sleek, efficient, realistic cyborg-foot in it’s place (manufactured, of course, in the motherland) that they will promise will be an improvement over the original.

in happier news, the light backstage here is fucking beautiful.
it’s streaming in … in sheets.
i show you, with my magic mac!

(i really m getting excited about my built-in camera)….

psycho dave, miss zoë keating, mr. steven mitchell wright, mz. AFP:



(in other corners of the room….jason is flapping in disbelief. steven is grazing at the awesome catering table….)


….and all is well.

………………………………………………………………….


here’s some photos from the archive, while i’m at it:

mr. neil amazing gaiman had a robe made in china - it was a long story - but it cost something in the area of $11, all told.
three chinese girls at a hidden tailor in some hidden chinese city went to work on it with vague sketched-out instructions. sexy.

here’s his triumphant moment.
apparently, the language barrier was so bad he actually had them just size it to his tall-man body.
i think he looks a little like a james bond in this picture.
like: “why thank you. gaiman. neil gaiman. my kimono will entrance you gradually, yet fatally.”


….but it fits amanda-body, and looks hot with the cast, even when wrinkled.
this was in manchester, taken by tora:


neil - in a word - is amazing.
he came to the london show, but the london show deserves it’s own blog since the stories and the photos must be collected in one heap.

………………………………………..

more from the random photo dept:
our stupendous cast-and-crew dinner last week with the Best Family in Edinburgh, the cunninghams…


the sisters keating, and chris…


this reminds me to thank the dozens of insanely kind people who have cooked food for us in the last few weeks.
we CANNOT THANK YOU enough. we don’t get a chance every day to properly thank you - really. you’ve been saving us.
we still are seeking food saints for paris, worgl and milan. hit up steven: steven@amandapalmer.net.

would write more, have much deeper thoughts, but wireless is about to go bye bye.

will write more after hospital visit and heidelberg, unless they put me in the leper colony.

goodnight


love
AFP

please, please, please let me get what i want.

i stayed up until 5:30 in the morning last night, obsessively unable to put down “the end of mr. y”.
thank you to whoever brought me that copy at the leeds united shoot. it’s the nazz.

and….just not tired. i started to wiggle my foot a little bit. just a LITTLE BIT. very uma from kill bill.
wiggle. your. left. toe.
it’s sending me signals like it might be ready to move

my whole body is feeling totally wonky from the lack of movement. i think i’ve traveled a total of 200 yards in the last 8 days.
jason and i decided to do a random juice fast today, mostly because we ended up with a lot of smoothies on the bus last night (don’t ask why).
we also started writing a new song called “electric blanket (nothing in the world can keep me warm)”.

we played manchester last night, it was the best show of the tour since dublin. CRAZINESS. WONDERFULNESS. cake.

it being a shitty day yesterday, and manchester being HOME of the MOZ and all….


….i decided that i’d learn one of my favorite smiths backstage.

so forgive the simplicity, but my god, this song hit home last night….

“please, please, please let me get what i want”, live last night from manch academy:

random photo dept….

(Sandra Wilkes)

CRIPPLED IS THE NEW BLACK:

(beast love)

(Sandra Wilkes)
i like the way my microphone chord makes it look like i might be slaying a dragon in this shot.

straight outta THRILLER….

(beast love)

we’re playing on a boat tonight in bristol.

the sun just came out.



love
AFP