Midnight Oil

[Powderworks] Travel log/ Some MOC

Brigitte Mounier bmounier@sympatico.ca
Tue, 30 Apr 2002 07:26:20 -0400

All right, James doesn't have it, here's the proper story of the journey.

Friday 10:00 am. We start gloriously by being so caught up in our 
chatting we completely forget to turn, and drive an extra hour out of 
the way.

1h30 pm: lunch in Hanover New Hampshire. This gorgeous blue eyed, 
blond girl, at the table next to us tries to get James' attention. 
She throws a large glass of water on the floor. When that fails, she 
gets very upset. Her mother has to take her outside. She's 2 months 

3h30: The picklebarrel, which I keep calling the 
Crakerbarrel...whatever...it is cold here in the mountains! I decide 
the trip is going too smoothly and just for fun, I lock us out of the 
car...We thus have a chance to get cold and search for  a tow truck 
in what Peter appropriately calls a ghost town.

7:00 We line up for the show, in sub-zero temperatures nobody had 
expected. For the next hour, the croud slowly freezes down to the 

8:30  Doors open. We have to put up with an opening band and an army 
of security jocks who take themselves very seriously thank you. The 
place IS tiny. I am, of course, front row center, (I'm thinking about 
copyrighting that spot). The step called stage arrives at knee 
height, the guys are about 3 feet from me. Unreal... Can't move much, 
too crowded by Mr Security beside me, scanning the crowd with his 
piercing eyes (at least I think that's how he feels).
Luritja way and tone poem still marvels played live. Bullroarer to 
make James happy and Comfortable place on the couch to make me 
Rob's drumsticks fly all over, one hitting me close to the eye since 
we're SO close. I don't know what is the biggest threat, the flying 
drumsticks or the open claws to catch them. I lead a very dangerous 

Some ungodly hour: Show ends, Peter, Jim and Bones hurry away. Rob 
and a very smiling Martin sign a few things... I get to hear Rob's 
French...seems pretty good :)

Saturday am: we drive to Boston where I do a superb job of getting 
straight to Rich Karakoudas place. (if I say so myself) Boston is in 
full gorgeous bloom with a sunny, ideal day.

We walk down to the Earthfest. We meet the lovely Nina and her two 
patient, funny friends, as well as helpful Chris and Alan Bernstein.
We hear music. You know, other bands.
Oils come on at 3:00. The stage is very high and I (front row center 
left) am at least 50 feet away. So they really are sort of isolated 
on their island, the very opposite of the previous night.
Peter is in fine form, with a kind of satisfied, inward smile. I 
won't speculate on why. Rob is a grinning machine. I particularly 
enjoy Only the strong. They end with Beds. Rich hilariously remarks 
that well into that last song, the 100 000 people go "Oh, is THAT who 
that is?"

Afterwards, well, we meander around. Nina is a short, pretty, 
talkative, endearing girl. You immediately want to protect her. She 
manages to get a pass to get on the right side of the barriers. I, 
being the tall ugly duck, stay on the outside of them.
I still end up having a few words with Rob who tells me that although 
the Ghosties are pretty much on hold, he managed to join a new band: 
a jazz and Blues one. (Of course, he's got so much time on his 
I am totally amazed to run by Rob and Bones lining up with every one 
to get a plate of food from the caterer. Everyone being the Vips, the 
volunteers, the nobodys that somehow got a pass, quite a crowd.
I'm used to the film industry's treatment of stars and we're very far 
from that!! Anyway.
Then I join James who's waiting in line to get things signed. I don't 
do autographs myself, for some reason. Peter has a huge smile and I 
shake his hand with a word of appreciation while he half-bows 
politely saying: "Peter". I'm still recovering from that. What did he 
think, that I was in line for the loos and mistakenly ended up at the 
tent and he had to introduce himself? That I still haven't figured 
out which is which of those aussies? I know, I know, he can't guess 
which ones are devoted fans. However, I hugely enjoy the irony in 
Finally, all the fans have had their share of happiness, we all 
gather around, waiting for James who discovered a calling for picking 
up garbage...
We go eat some food at a restaurant where the waiter takes such a 
dislike to James that he throws his pizza on the floor.
The rest is very fuzzy.I am sunburned, dead tired, seeing double. I 
know I enjoy a wonderful night of sleep at Rich's place, thanks again 
you generous mate!
We drive back to snow in Mtl.

And try to face the sobering fact that we are back to our regular 
lives and condemned to be Oil-less for an undetermined amount of 

End of travel log.