We were
in Memphis when the storm (sorry superstorm) hit. Or we might
have been in Chicago. Or somewhere in between because we played in
San Antonio, Austin, Dallas, Memphis and Chicago on consecutive days
and my memories are already beginning to blur.
I was a bit concerned. Catskill was directly in the projected path of Superstorm Sandy. (I've been calling it a hurricane but it's slowly coming to my attention that everyone else is calling it a superstorm so I'm attempting to join in here). I was worried that a tree might fall on the house. We've got a lot of trees. Occasionally I take a stroll around the back yard, count them up and catalogue them all, marvelling in a fearful sort of way at the fact that I own so many trees (if you can actually own a tree – it seems like an odd idea). And then I lose count or forget. I think there might be eight of them, fucking great big maples lined up along either side of the property line towering over the grass in between with branches touching one side to the other. In the summer, when they're in full leaf, the effect is faintly terrifying. Especially at night - it's like being in a vast organic cathedral. I've often been out there on my own at night, tending the barbeque with just a wall light between me and the murky towering blackness, cicadas kicking up a deafening racket and the distant wail of freight trains rumbling through the night from Buffalo to New Jersey...
It was
all going to be fine - I grew up on a high cliff top on the south
coast of England, constantly buffeted and battered by violent south
westerly gales. Roads were frequently rendered impassable by shingle
thrown up from the beach. Waves would hit the
ninety foot cliffs and water, shingle and seaweed would fly another twenty feet into the air. I
used to go to school in this weather – on a double decker bus
listing at a thirty degree angle as the wind smashed into the side of
it.
They showed us pictures of buses being tested for stability and
sometimes the bus conductress used to laugh it off but I could tell
she was just as scared as I was. Thankfully the bus never blew over.
There weren't any trees – I think I was eight before I actually saw
a tree in real life – they wouldn't grow where we lived. I read
stories from some parallel universe where boys climbed trees and got
lost in the forest, and I felt vaguely inadequate as though it was my
fault that in Peacehaven and Telscombe Cliffs the only vegetation
apart from grass was hardy privet, gorse and Spanish broom.
We
listened to news reports of rising tides, warnings of imminent
disaster and so on, and I texted a friend in Asbury Park, New Jersey
asking if he was OK. He sent me a photo of his girlfriend's house.
The storm hadn't happened yet, the tide was still rising and the
ground floor of her house was almost completely under water.
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The David Greenberger Formation, a 75% spectacle wearing celebrity superstorm supergroup perform "Snakes" |
They
said it was going to be worse than Irene. Personally we were very
lucky there. I became the proud owner of a dilapidated Cape Cod two
days before Irene. We were in England getting ready to start a new
life in America. It occurred to us that we really ought to get some
house insurance so Amy called a few insurance companies. They told us
to call back after the hurricane. We saw footage of water flowing
over the top of a road bridge across the creek near our house in
Catskill. We looked at a house there back in the summer during one of
our many house hunting expeditions. It was creepy – Amy didn't like
it because there was an old pair of crutches built into one of the
walls of the rather slimy basement.
I almost
quite liked the place in spite of the traffic noise from the bridge
you could see if you looked upwards from the back yard - the bridge
that later had water flowing over the top of it. That house must have been
almost totally submerged. Fortunately for us there was a loud wail
and suddenly I was in that parallel universe - the one where othe
boys climbed trees and so on – 'I love that sound!' I exclaimed,
and then we couldn't hear ourselves speak for the next ten minutes as
five miles of freight train thundered across an adjacent trestle. So
we did the sensible thing and bought a house on a hill an attractive
distance away from the railway line.
We were very lucky. The town was devastated. The ice cream place by the creek where we dreamed of having a root beer float, all washed away. The t shirt printing shop – that had to be gutted and completely rebuilt (we got our new t shirts printed there before we went on tour). The restaurant down where Catskill Creek flows into the Hudson river was destroyed. And so it went on. And miraculously our house and surrounding neighbourhood came out of it unscathed.
We were very lucky. The town was devastated. The ice cream place by the creek where we dreamed of having a root beer float, all washed away. The t shirt printing shop – that had to be gutted and completely rebuilt (we got our new t shirts printed there before we went on tour). The restaurant down where Catskill Creek flows into the Hudson river was destroyed. And so it went on. And miraculously our house and surrounding neighbourhood came out of it unscathed.
We
arrived at Newark Airport and drove through torrential rain to our
new home in a national disaster area. The rain never stopped tipping
out of the sky for four and a half days. We stayed in a friend's
house with a tin roof. In the middle of the third night Amy asked me
if it was the end of the world. I thought it probably was though I
didn't like to say.
Catskill
wasn't the worst affected – in the town Pratsville which is only
thirty five miles away just about every building was badly damaged.
We drove through there only the other week, over a year later – it
was like a ghost town. Some people have given up, they're not coming
back. There were a lot of shabby houses with new roofs. On Saturday
night at our house concert someone told me how they bought a few
groceries in the only remaining store in Pratsville and the owner was
moved to tears of gratitude.
All this might sound depressing but I'm trying to talk about our house concert and why we
did it.
We've
been lucky twice – Sandy took a left turn before it got to us and
ploughed off into Pennsylvania.
We were
going to put on a house concert as part of our Kickstarter campaign
to raise money to put out our latest album but we only sold one or
two tickets so the idea put itself on hold. We weren't even sure if
we could get away without either – someone always gets upset if you
do anything noticeable. But if it's a charity fundraising event...
The house concert was almost like a housewarming party, even though we didn't know a lot of people who came. We sort of did though – I recognised names from emails, mail order, facebook and so on. And there were some we knew from other shows we've done. It was fun – I wanted it to be a celebration as much as a fundraiser. We should appreciate what we've got. People lost their homes. We were lucky enough to have one to come home to.
Everyone bought something along with them. People helped out, laid out food, took turns overseeing the list of ticket holders, that sort of thing. The police chief who lives across the street was very nice about it all - he actually said well done and told us not to worry about the parking restrictions. David Greenberger helped me to paint even more signs which were meant to be helpful but probably ended up being charmingly confusing. I'd already painted some large ones - "3 hours of Love, Peace and Dischords" in honour of the Woodstock contingent (there's nothing going on in Woodstock so they all have to come to Catskill to get their kicks), a big Eric & Amy sign that we hung in a tree and illuminated with a torch.
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A selection of signs. We're thinking of starting a business. |
Frank Cuthbert bought a load of folding chairs along from his art gallery in Catskill, Brik. His lovely girlfriend Danette somehow managed the catering and put me in mind of a Pan Am air stewardess. Next time we're going to get her a uniform and turn the place into a homemade aeroplane. Later on she commandeered the kitchen as her personal dancing space.
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We raised $1300.16 and donated it to Occupy Sandy. I know they say they prefer 'in kind' donations and only take money as a last resort but there's no bartering system for gasoline and heating oil so I hope the money does some good.
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And finally I should mention the vinyl - we have vinyl copies of our new album!!! We've got boxes of them hidden under beds, in cupboards, up chimney flues... We've got so many of them we're having to sleep standing up in a corner of the bathroom. Help us to regain our sanity - buy a copy here: http://www.amyrigby.com/amyshop.html
Loved reading that Eric, very well done to you and Amy, would have loved to have been able to attend. I couldn't help noticing that your kitchen looks remarkably like our kitchen in France, do you own a kitchen copyright ?.
ReplyDeleteTake care.
Paul, Jane and kids.
No copyright, just a slight lack of imagination! But this years styling features stained wood and chartreuse backs to the shelf units. And it ain't broken... I hope yours is holding up OK by the way.
DeleteLooks like you had a great night. Well done. Wish you weren't so far away for us to attend.
ReplyDeleteBTW Love the new CD. Thank You.
Paul & Siulan
xx
We miss you too! But not France!
DeleteI need to talk to you about websites and so on - I'll be in touch by email.
Hope you're both OK there
We're fine thanks Eric. Shout anytime, you know I'd be glad to help.
DeleteHey, your new place looks fine for gigs, it looks bigger than the Laurence...!
Love to Amy.
FANTASTIC! such generous hearts. so fortunate to be pals w/y'alls. /CB
ReplyDeleteThank you for opening your house. I had a wonderful time. Sorry my bald head ruined so many of the pictures above.
ReplyDeleteWhich particular bald head were you?
DeleteThe one in the lower left corners of the third and fifth photos. I ususally go by the name "Marc."
ReplyDeleteAhh... that bald head! Hi Marc, when are you coming to do that recording? Hope I didn't scare you off!
DeleteProbably January if that works for the two of you. You didn't scare me off, though I'll admit to being intimidated by all that equipment. I pretty much have the song I want to do written, though I am hoping my friend in San Francisco can help me polish it a bit. There are places where I know I have the wrong chord marked down, but for the life of me I can't figure out what chord is right. Other places I'm using chords that I don't know what they're called. I know they're real -- In fact I saw you or Amy using one of them during the concert on Saturday.
ReplyDeleteWe're quite good at chords so we can always help you out. Don't be intimidated by the equipment. I only ever worry about it breaking down or falling on my head. Not that there's much of it above head height, but you know - when I'm lying on the floor getting the vibe or whatever...
DeleteEric,
ReplyDeleteI loved your article about the concert. Knowing your property and lovely manse as I do, made it easy to imagine all the music, fun, and art that went on that day. That the concert was an act of thanks and community was awesome, and I like the way you donated the money to a non-bureaucratic organization that seems to be helping a lot.
The signs are really great. I recently got into looking at some of Barney Bubbles' art online. When I discovered there was a direct connection between you and Hawkwind, your cover artist, it made my heart flutter a little.
All the best!
Brother John
Fancy you knowing about Barney Bubbles. Barney was a lovely guy and sadly missed. He had a studio in a cupboard directly under the office toilet. The Stiff artwork was often pissed stained due to drunken mis-aimings and cracks in the floorboards.
DeleteI was at Hawkwind's seventh ever gig - they showed up in place of Shakin' Stevens & The Sunset as the opening act for The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown. The Teddy Boys who came to see Shakin' Stevens didn't like Hawkwind. I spent their set sitting on top of a bass cabinet behind the drummer, smoking marijuana for the very first time. It was the safest place to because the teddy boys were kicking off a bit.
Years later I got to know Dick Taylor from The Pretty Things who produced Hawkwind's first album. I've always been a fan.
Great to hear from you John!