THE WARS OF THE SPANISH SUCCESSION

Netherlands broke away from Spain more than 400 years ago but I think Spain has forgiven them. I had a few drinks with a Spaniard last night. I woke up this morning in silk pajamas tucked in as if I were in a hospital bed, all warm and toasty. There were 200 Euros on the bureau (that’s not a bad title for a song.)

It’s Saturday morning here in Amsterdam. I have three in a row coming up: Den Haag, Amsterdam and Paris (which could be either in Kentucky or France). The shows in Gronigen and Breda went all right. One’s in the north, one’s in the south on the Belgium border. A lot of long rides here in The Netherlands: You almost have to go over to their house to get them to come see you. They travel well but won’t do it. And yet, they’re the people I most love on this planet. Why? Because they love freedom and they love me, or used to anyway.

So, now I’ll let you in on a secret. I know that what I have written up to now is bad, forced and boring. You see, I do this on purpose. Ha ha!! Like the monkey I make of you. Ha!! As in Hesse’s Steppenwolf, I make the first part of this missive intentionally lacking my customary brilliance and erudition. Get ready to rumble now.

Once, my good friend Miss Bette Midler was touring The Netherlands. She had played four dates or so, and they were going to film a concert for television. Everything had gone smashingly well. They loved her in Utrecht, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Eindhoven. [I love Bette Midler. If she came to my house and wanted to sing for me, I’d let her. The same goes for Mr. Steve Miller. A young artist whom I predict big things for. Ha ha. This part is bad too. Sometimes the balloon pops, sometimes it doesn’t.] They decided to film the show in Den Haag. Bette went out on stage within twenty seconds she knew it was going to be a long night. It was as if she had suddenly been transported to a stage in Kiel, which is in northern Germany and where the audience is often composed of herring or cod. Anyway, the audiences in Den Haag tended to be kind of reserved but last time I was there, it was fine. Bette thought someone should have told her that Den Haag would be different.

Every town in the world plays differently in some way. It’s amazing. They never laugh at Lonely At The Top in Philadelphia. There must be some reason but I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s not funny.

Well, unlike Hesse’s Steppenwolf, this essay in journalism and ethnomusicography never did get any better. The wind is howling outside my window and I must take it to the streets.

Why isn’t Steve Miller in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

I’ll try my hardest next time ……. Randy

Note from Cathy:

I went to the Van Gogh Museum yesterday and then I got a manicure. Randy is too modest to say this but he got a great review in Die Telegraaf on Friday. Apparently, they love him in Gronigen.

–7 February 2004

WORLD WAR I REVISITED

Here I am in Europe. I’ve done two shows in Belgium. I think they went pretty well. I talk less than I do at home but they seem to understand everything I say; they just didn’t think some of it was that funny.

I think some cuts are needed. “Rider In The Rain” was a hit in Belgium. An actual “hit”. So I practiced it and played it. It’s hard to understand why it wasn’t a hit all over the world as is the case with so many of my songs. “In Germany Before The War” or “Back On My Feet Again” for instance. Anyway, along with the success of their women’s tennis program (the two top players in the world are Belgian – one Flemish and one French or Walloon) and my appearances in Antwerp and Ghent, there is a closer bond between the Flemish and the French populations of the country than ever before. I’m getting some kind of award from the Queen. I don’t know what. The trip from Antwerp to Amsterdam was 2 ½ hours. I only had to stop to pee once. I’m a young sixty. There was a Little Criminal in Antwerp but I didn’t get to meet him. If any of you come to a show come back and see me. Unarmed. To Gronigen tomorrow. It’s way up north but it would still be in L.A. County were I at home. It’s over 200 feet in elevation up there. I hope the altitude doesn’t cause me any problems this time. In passing, I met some very interesting cows and sheep just north of Breda. One of the cows had escaped from England during that bogus Mad Cow thing. He (she I guess – I don’t know much about cows) told me that he swam all the way to Holland from England but I don’t believe him (her). I’m staying in a hotel adjacent to the red light district. I sat in my window for three hours this evening. I bought a brand new purple light but attracted only some drunken German businessmen. There must be a better way to deal with loneliness. I want to tell you how good it made me feel to see Susan, Joan and Scott and all the other Little Criminals at UCLA. It was just about the best part of the evening for me to see all of you and have you meet my family.

By the way, I don’t know if I’m selling any tickets in Austria. It’s lovely this time of year. They love Americans too. Particularly Jews. Y’all come.

Love
Randy

Note from Cathy:
Sorry he didn’t write anything about me. Again. I know how interested you are in what I’m up to. They love me in Antwerp. Randy’s age is beginning to become a burden to me. He actually stopped to pee three times. And he called that nice cow a liar. Sorry no pictures yet. Power supply is on its way.

–4 February 2004