Germany 2009

Sunday  28 February 2010

Wow how the time has flown! Was it really four months ago that we actually went to Germany?

Thank you for your patience and bearing with us. We have just been planning our next Harley adventures and together in the same room, have also managed to finish this tale.

This is for those who were there and shared, and for those who weren’t, it’s something to savour and look forward to the joys to come in 2010. New Tour, new album, new songs! What more could a Harley fan wish for? And understand, it’s not all fantasy it’s the best years of our lives!

Berlin
Sunday 22 October 2009

Mid-afternoon at Luton airport.  Karen is gripped by fear of flying, Deborah resembles the Michelin (wo)man, wearing all the clothes she couldn’t get into her wheelie case and Jim trails a few steps behind, picking up the clothing and paper trail that Deborah leaves in her wake.  Karen is the only one wearing what you might call sensible shoes.

Deborah finds herself whisked onto the plane first, whilst Jim and Karen mix it up with everyone else unable to get to the seats Deborah is reserving. We settle for separation and wave at each other. The flight is turbulent. We can’t land soon enough!

Schonefeld airport, has still not managed to shake off its utilitarian East German persona. We quickly escape and head for the train station. It’s all going swimmingly until we switch to the U-Bahn. We bundle into the train, chattering in English, when a strange looking man (SLM) spins round and looks at us “You’re English then?”

The conversation between him and Deborah then goes something like this

DEB “Yes we are”

SLM “where are you from”

DEB “London, Luton and Sheffield”

SLM “I’m from Portsmouth. What are you doing here?”

DEB “We’ve come to see a gig; a concert”

SLM “Who?”

DEB “Steve Harley” – by this time she’s in full Harley flow.

SLM “I’m a performer...”

DEB “Oh yeah? What d’ya do? Play drums, spoons, violin, sax?”

SLM “Sex”

DEB “You what?” Sax! I can play sax!

SLM “Sex”

DEB (slightly quieter) “Hmmn, I thought that’s what you said”

If Jim had been standing near enough he should have grabbed Deborah’s chin from down round her navel! Now trapped in a conversation she can’t get out of Deborah helps us learn most of the gory details – nice! As SLM leaves the train wishing us well for our stay, it is to a huge sigh of relief from Deb and howls of laughter from the other two. Priceless!

We book into our hotel and to meet Jim in the foyer for a pre-run to the Quasimodo Club to get bearings and hopefully meet up with Mair and Kerrie from South Wales. It is quiet and we are able to relax, chat to the bar staff and kit ourselves out in souvenir Quasimodo T-shirts and take hundred photographs of the nearby architecture (a portent of what’s to come the following day!) Finally we make our way back. Bedtime; it’s been a long old day!

Monday 23 October 2009

Our ambitious sightseeing list includes:  the ruined Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedachtniskirsche and the beautiful blue glass replacement, Checkpoint Charlie, Under den Linden, The Brandenberger Tor, The Reichstag, the wall-victims memorial, the new Hauptbahnhof, The Rathaus , the television  tower  and Marienkirche, gardens and fountains. So Jim in his smart black wedding shoes, Deborah in her high heeled boots and Karen in her walking boots set off, armed with a group ticket, Deborah’s camera and map of the city. A beautiful, sunlit day, 10am and we are on the sightseeing trail.....

We grab coffee and croissants, ibuprofen and extra sights en route. Street entertainers, hip-hop dancers, the world clock, a chunk of ‘The Wall’, The Art Museum etc. We find Berlin bears around every corner, take respite by the riverside, dodge street trams in the east and finally collapse in an Italian restaurant mid-afternoon.

We have walked miles and lost Deborah 60 times. Deborah has taken 8127 photographs in 5 hours! Finally as Goths and punks gather by the fountains and starlings settle in their evening roosts, we prepare for the main event.

There is a queue snaking its way down the side-steps to the jazz club. The crisp sunshine of earlier has been replaced by a cloudless night and a distinct drop in temperature. Steffi, Sandra and Gilly arrive, as do Mair and Kerrie and finally the doors are open and we’re inside.

Berlin’s famous venue is dark and dingy, not unlike jazz clubs the world over. It has a small stage to the centre of an open floor area and there are raised platforms, nooks and crannies around the perimeter for those who don’t fancy standing front of stage. We are to the front left and are joined by the gang from Aberdeen, all wedged together in anticipation. There is excited chatter and an air of expectation. Behind us glasses, indicating a busy bar, clink, the crowd grows, the heat rises, outside coats are abandoned, tucked under the stage and finally...... the moment everyone has been waiting for as Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel take to the stage.

Forgive us if we don’t get the songs in the right order but we’ll do our best...bear in mind we were on a truly timeless flight.
The cheers and applause are overwhelming, deafening. He looks up, happy, as if such a greeting was unexpected? Surely not? And for what is to come it is more than appropriate and deserved. Out of this.....he says his emphatic ‘hello’ to the ecstatic crowd by way of the Last Goodbye, roaring straight on in to the fabulous How Good it Feels and boy it felt good; new arrangements and emphasis, plucking, from the familiar vinyl, a fresh and invigorating assault upon our senses. James pounding the keyboards; Steve invading our very souls.  Another level again when they launched without pause for breath into those Psychomodo sounds and three Uk fans in their Quasimodo T-shirts, danced and sang  and caused a smile or two on stage, and the crowd were Slinging It with them, transfixed by the sound and mesmerised by the man. This was so different, so new, so on fire!

Audience with the man tightened the rapport with the crowd – all Harley fans together but a distinct German accent during in the chorus that told we were far from home. The Coast of Amalfi drew a sharp intake of breath as the band, bathed in light, performed the slow build up  (possibly for the first time of live hearing for many of the audience) and he took us on a journey along the Italian coast, in the heat with light shining with a breath-taking energy. You could hear the audience sighing as the bass outlined the journey Steve was sharing with us, so eloquently. From boats bobbing on the waterline we were catapulted back to those heady 1970’s fairground attractions as we boarded the carousel with our old friend Judy Teen. He made us soooooo Happy!

Hmmmmm!  Whats this? In completely unfamiliar territory now, treading water, lost at sea, in some hopeless state, an uncertain view on the   horizon! A new Song!  Song plucked from the pocket! Or was it the heart, desolation row, was this anger?  Or just despair? Or Both?  Hard to tell from this initial exposure! As our hearts stood still, we listened in respectful silence.

No bleeding hearts!, we got the feeling... we were not  riding the waves!  and so into ‘gee but it’s hard , when one lowers one guard to the vultures’ ............. we were tumbling down  until he picks us up with the rising sun and once more we get the feeling of riding the waves. Magic!

Zwangig Minuten

Back with tales of anxious mother and ASBO offspring. Dear Dino! And the crowd were singing along once more until we’re stopped in our tracks by yet more that is new and unfamiliar. This old man, a hero and no ordinary one, maybe a hero to his own offspring?, a new delight with endless fathoms to explore - we must hear more!  Give us more!

Hope springs eternal; that light on the horizon gleams brightly for all as we are reminded that darkness has a message to us below. Why does your light go on shining, how come the darkest nights still stay away. This is sublime and builds to a crescendo as Barry on the violin just shines forth in sound that cuts the very air we breathe. Stunning!

Time for dancing! Time for Mr Soft and a reminder of the Best Years of our Lives – oh but it’s magic!

An audience full of those who were there, and bought in their thousands, are thrilled by Sebastian; he is gratified. Top off a stupendous evening with a Friend For Life and what else,  Make Me Smile. He was smiling, so were they all; Berlin was smiling, Quasimodo was smiling!

Hamburg
Tuesday 24 October 2009

If Berlin was cold then Hamburg was bloody freezing! A double-decker coach trip allows us to see the northern German countryside wearing its lovely autumn colours; but travelling is tiring.

Accommodation crisis!  Tourist information can offer us rooms on the Reeperbahn – erm no thank you! We finally find a B&B in the backstreets and are pleasantly surprised: big bed and substantial put-u-up for Jim and a half decent bathroom – result. We prepare to hit the town.  Taxi!!!

Cold wasn’t the word. The wind whipped and whirled around the desolate streets by the Fabrik, an old WWI munitions factory, now probably the oldest building in an area of post war mixed housing and local shops. When finally the doors opened, a modern foyer hung with posters and with a small box office, from where we collected our tickets, greeted us and a couple of fearsome looking bouncers glared at every punter who passed. A quick request was made on the poster front and we were told to wait and they’d see what they could do...

The interior  was amazing, a vast open space that was sectioned off to form a bar, even a small cafe, balcony areas and step-seating together with a large open floor in front of the stage. In dark corners kindergarten tables and small chairs are stacked and children’s art work adorned the walls; we seemed to have arrived in a cross between music venue and community centre. We could imagine the place, by day, ringing with excited laughter and chatter of expectant children; by night, well, it wasn’t that much different now was it?

Tiredness does funny things and there was no doubting we were all tired. Where the previous night had been a frenzy, a party of joy and dancing, of taut anticipation and shared excitement, tonight the tiredness brought with it a whole new musical experience. Numbed limbs and aching feet allowed opened minds, eyes and ears to more subtle nuances, and access to the very heart of the performance. We all three braved the thrill and hubbub of the open floor space during the first half, before seeking quiet places from which to observe and consume the performance in the 2nd; Deborah high up on the balcony, Karen high to the left of the stage and Jim leaning stage front. From these cocooned crows nests each found their own protective space from which to drink in the delights of the performance; far away from each other, happy in isolation. All in our own little Harley worlds.

Lighting! We haven’t really mentioned it but what a fabulous job was done of lighting both the star and his stage, seen at best from a high vantage point.

This was our second chance to hear the new songs and Steve is right, a second hearing is definitely required. The desolation of the bleeding hearts was clear to see as anger diminished and was replaced by a total feeling of hopelessness; powerful stuff. From where is such anguish and desperation drawn? We won’t ask but it’s there all the same, maybe the stranger carried it into town?

Magic moments, the Lighthouse, Steve lost in aspic, us red in a yellow sea and then a kiss or two in the dark that will be with us forever. Hot! It was hot,hot,hot! So hot that clothes were being discarded stage front – hmmn wonder if anyone will notice? Hmmn seems they did.

This was a night and a trip to remember for a lifetime. We wanted to stay forever.

Afterwards we need to see our hero, to thank him for the joy he brings, to thank him for doing what he does so spectacularly well and to thank him quite simply for being him. Patience eventually has its reward and, whilst we wait for that special moment, we are able to catch up with the other members of the band and find out how the tour is going for them.

Surreal moments follow; a three way conversation between Steffi, James and Karen goes on for a good ten minutes entirely in German before somebody points out to them that two are English speakers – lol! Oh yeah! We catch up with the lovely long-haired Barry and tell him just how high his Lighthouse moment sends our hearts soaring.

We congratulate Lincoln on the amazing bass during Riding The waves – he thinks nobody noticed – we did! Wonderful stuff and although Lincoln  doesn’t seem to like the limelight up there on that stage, those moments where he quietly gets on and does his thing are noticed and are truly loved! We have to tell him so.

Robbie is celebrating another great performance with a well-earned glass of red wine. Stuart is bouncy but suffering all sorts of ailments, it never shows up on stage we tell him and nothing wrong with his eyesight as he casually mentions Deborah’s diminishing apparel.  He talks of the German tours of the old days but you can see in his eyes that this one is something special.

The night air is colder than ever before; warm breath freezes and hangs inches from our faces. We clutch our hard-won posters (there was a bit of a bun-fight over them, but they are rightly ours) and wait for the taxi and bed - we all drift away into a much needed sleep.

Wednesday 25 October 2009

The following day dawns crisp and bright but with ominous clouds on the horizon. Breakfast is fantastic and, once the landlady has got over the shock of finding one English person who doesn’t drink tea, we feast and make the most of the chance to sit and relax. An hour later we are packed and armed with a map of Hamburg and a plan to get in a good deal of site-seeing during the few hours we have left before we need to get the train to the airport. We make our way in to the city centre and stow our luggage before setting off for the Rathaus and square and the old harbour. This is the plan..... however, lying between us and our destination is one of Hamburg’s principal and most prestigious shopping areas. Can you see where we are going with this...?

Two hours later (I kid you not!).... and half our sightseeing time has been eaten up by Deborah who has spent most of it in H&M (excuse me, could you not do that kind of shopping back in the UK?) Karen and Jim are completely frozen to a metal street bench waiting for her to reappear. They can’t go anywhere in case she gets lost; nobody is happy. When she does eventually reappear, she is laden with bags of clothes that she has no hope of getting into her already bursting suitcase; the other two are incredulous!

Finally we get to see the magnificent Rathaus of Hamburg. Gothic and intricate, it faces outwards onto an immense square that, in a few weeks time, will play host to Hamburg’s famous Christmas market – sadly October is a tad too early. We trundle across the square and into the back streets which lead onto the harbour area and eventually to get another magnificent but bombed out church, this one ironically built by an Englishman before being largely destroyed by his fellow countrymen in 1944. All that remains are some external walls and an amazing blackened gothic bell tower that dominates the skyline for miles around. There is a glass lift to a viewing platform high above the city, and leaving Jim and his fear of heights holding Deborah’s shopping, Karen and Deb decide that this will be a great way to see the city. Nobody had told us that the viewing platform was open to the elements! The view is stupendous. We can see all of Hamburg, from the residential suburbs high on the eastern side, to the station and commercial centre reaching down into the old town and harbour and beyond to the Reeperbahn, container port and  on towards the North Sea. The biting wind and now spots of rain penetrate deep through the stonework and we are frozen to the core so, once photos are quickly snatched and all that is to be seen has been seen, we descend once more to find our friend at ground level and get him a warming coffee and a sticky bun to cheer him up.

There is just enough time to do a last minute shop and grab some souvenirs of our visit before we are off and away once more. This time our train is taking us away from the city towards the airport and home. We have a couple of hours to negotiate the rigours of security, passport control and customs before finally flopping down on the benches at our departure gate.  Fear of flying grips, we board and some of us are more than pleasantly surprised by the flight – take off is still its usual nightmare but the flight is smooth and quick and the feeling of imminent death soon dissipates; maybe it was the fact that we had a female pilot; Deb and Karen debate this point but Jim wisely refuses to be drawn.

Back in Luton and we say our fond farewells, swear never to go shopping with Deborah again and to heed Karen’s advice about footwear for future trips.  Deb has a car waiting, Jim has a coach and Karen has a train to take them back to the various parts of the UK from where they had set out only a few days earlier.

Such a dream such a beautiful dream and what a timeless flight! We’ll be back!