august 10 2024

My artist tent is filled with dragonflies. I watch them wing around like satellites, floating to the very top. We’re somewhere at the edge of Germany. The festival is in the middle of a giant, open field and the air smells like cut grass and wet earth. We are driven through tall, shoulder height corn fields to get to the stage. It’s quite charming if you’re into that kind of thing. Unfortunately, I am not.

The show goes well. Some technical difficulties but the crowd seemed to like it. I post one singular video to my instagram story. Sometimes it’s more chic to do that. I toss and turn all night and don’t sleep properly. Cigarette smoke wakes me up at 6AM. It’s the chef, taking a break right under my window. He’s on the phone, speaking to someone loudly and in German. When he goes back inside, I stay up. The hotel room is haunted and I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep anyway.

We fly to Schaffhausen. I listen to SOPHIE and get emotional. “Is It Cold In The Water” is a perfect song. We land and I ask Darcy to tell me again about the time he was in a coma. 

“Do you remember anything from when you were out?”

“Yes, I remember everything.”

Shivers - throughout my entire body. I know I complain a lot but it’s really a miracle to be alive and living at all. Some kind of intelligence may exist on this planet but the forces of humanity are hostile unto themselves. That’s why we have music. And films. And books. And crochet cup coasters and souvenir T-shirts. 

It’s hot in Switzerland. At the hotel, they serve us grapefruit for breakfast. We do a soundcheck. I take a walk along the water. I sip a cranberry lemonade and sit inside for lunch to avoid the bees.

That night, the show goes really fucking well. The crowd is wild and intimate and into it. After the show, some Swiss cuties tell us about their lives and teach us colloquialisms. The boys go out dancing and later, they tell me that the club was playing Fetty Wap. I fall asleep thinking about music.