Stars in New Mexico

The sight I encounter when I drive over the New Mexican border, is breathtaking. It deserves a standing ovation... The Staked Plains were the territory of Comanche warriors, where they were hunting herds of buffalo...

You can see endlessly far, eternal red dusty plains with little orbed green bushes that seem to be drawn on this canvas with a pencil. The landscape is delineated with flattened red mountains, that smoothly flow into the plains.

I try to keep my eyes on the road but it's really hard not to get distracted by the landscape that overtakes you.

After putting up the tent, I lie in the grass, limbs stretched, while I watch the last of the fiery sun melt on the horizon. This spacious, widespread, extended feeling is undescribable. It gives me a freedom I never felt before, or maybe once, visiting California some years ago. *Magnificent*, in every sense of the word.

As the night falls gracious on flattened, wide mountains, I suddenly realise that I'm still sitting on the exact same spot, watching all this beauty.

Stars appear and it's really hard to put this into words... but it just blew me away. It was like a little box of sparkles that where disseminated carefully on this wonderful, bowing black surface. I even saw the milky way.....*

We arrive in Santa Fe and this town has a very mexican feeling, the contrast with Texas could not have been any bigger. After that follows an amazing mountain drive to Taos, finished with a very odd and scary feeling when we get back... We finished the day with a lightning-fest and showers that could wash your clothes away... Something happened in those mountains, and it scares the shit out of me. It left me speechless.

"For greatness of beauty

I have never experienced anything like New Mexico."

- D. H. Lawrence

Texas & Cowboys

"The country's so flat, you can see for two days" - and that's no lie - it IS flat. I've seen more cows here on one piece of land than I saw in my whole life, and even some buffalo's hiding in the shade.

The Route 66 in TX spans the Texas Panhandle like an endless airport runway. You see cars disapearing into infinity as you pull over to pour some gass. We're in the high plains, and although the road is pretty boring and straight on, we see the faces of some nice little towns along the way. The Panhandle is the land of giants, the haven of cowboys, oil-field roughnecks, and self-made millionaires.

In the mid- to late 1800s, trail riders pushed big herds of cows through the Panhandle, in search of the promised land their Mexican Compadres had told them about - a place with sweet water and high grass. The Palo Duro Canyon gave them this promised paradise, so cattle barons claimed the land, drove out the indians, killed off the buffalo, and raised enough beefsteak to feed the nation. Great.

In my mind this was the picture I had of Texas, and at first sight, it's pretty much right.

We meet cattlemen with big hats, high boots, and high jeans with their dusty shirts stuffed in. We see a lot of beef - both dead and alive - and the grasslands are huuuuuge.

The swampy Missouri heat is replaced by a more tolerable, dry heat.

After we saw the Cadillac Ranch in Armadillo, we got to meet some great people, who completely altered the vision I had in mind of Texan people. They ride a crazy double-high bike, have hairless skin-cats, smoke pot, make 'smores' by a camp fire and sing the most beautiful local songs, completed by high worn socks and twinkling eyes. It was an amazing night.

Oklahoma and the Tulsa Sound

We pass farms, fields and creeks. I roll down my window and feel a hot breeze fill the car. I thought St.Louis was hot, but here I feel like a bun in a big oven, left behind in a giant field of grass, without a tree to shadow me. I get some cover in Disney, near a lake.
It's hard to believe that in the 30s, this land was choking in dust storms, together with some parts of Kansas, Texas and New Mexico. The land was a desert of sand and pale dirt. Steinbeck described the 'Okies' trip to California, the land of milk and honey, in his book, The Grapes of Wrath. The Dust Bowl lasted for years...

Nowadays, Oklahoma is covered in big green plaines of tender grass, trees and lakes. I seek refreshment under some maple trees but can't resist to move to the sound of the guitar of Little Joe McLerran, a young man that is - according to musician Mike Peace - 'a 80-year old black man stuck in the body of a 26-year old white boy.'
Tulsa is the home of many great musicians, and we got a taste of the 'Tulsa Sound' - a very diverse musical blend that's so special because not one song is ever played the same.
The city has also been called 'The Buckle of the Bible Belt', as it is the start of a very conservative area that extends all the way to Texas. Although I must say times are changing, we met some very non-conservative people, almost in an European sort of way ;-)
I wonder if playing the harmonica encourages this new mentality...

"Many months have come and gone
Since I wandered from my home
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born
Though a page of life has turned
And a lesson I have learned
Yet I feel like in those hills I still belong"
- Woody Guthrie

"I come from a state that raises corn and cotton.."

High summer in St. Louis, Missouri. I search for refreshment in a nearby cold water bottle, put it against my head, sweating my clothes off, but the dizzling feeling of refreshment lingers only a second. Here it is, that heavy, moist, paralyzing heat. The city pants in relief when the sun starts its disappearing act and the afternoon bows to twilight shade.

This is the city of Rock 'n Roll. The city of Chuck Berry, Ike Turner, Tina Turner, Albert King. Musical history was made in this little town, where the Mississippi river crosses. I make my way for an ice cream, hoping to get some refreshment. 'Let me have that one, yes'. I see girls and boys taking orders and dispensing shakes, cones, sodas, floats, splits and sundaes as fast as their hands permit. Before it's even there, my ice cream is almost completely gone. I glide into ice-cream nirvana. With a white mustache I smile; 'this is réally great.'

We owe almost every piece of our time here to Quinta Scott, photographer of some great books on the Route 66. She was there from the beginning, so she know's her stuff. She has a great new book coming out too, about the Mississippi river. Her website can be found here. Check it out. Thank you Quinta for having us!!

As we drive through Delmar street, the 'strip' of St. Louis, I feel as if I'm re-living the fifties; although I was never there to have lived it, actually. I guess I was born in the wrong decade...
This city makes me listen to Rock 'n Roll music in an old car, with an old radio, and an old guy behind the wheel with an old beard. After we stop for some gas, we go to the Blueberry, where we listen to some sweet fifties music. I wish Elvis would have been there to see it....


"Feelin' the music from head to toe
'Round and 'round and 'round you go
Hail, hail rock'n'roll"

Chicago, "The Pulse of America"

Chicago is "The Windy city" (and rest assure, some Marilyn Monroe-moments have proven this by far ), "The City of The Big Shoulders". It's a Brandy Alexander at the Drake Hotel, a slice of cake at the Palmer House, a good night's sleep at the Blackstone. But it's also called "The Pulse of America", and as for me, this statement is absolutely true. It's The Pulse of The Blues.

It came here from the swampy bluesbayou's and cottonfields of the Mississippi Delta, with people trying to find a job here after the war. Blues became Electric in Chicago, more specifically in the Chess Record Studio's, a place where people like Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Willie Dixon, Little Walter, Otis Rush, Buddy Guy, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and even the Rolling Stones recorded some of their biggest songs. Let's not forget: 'Without the blues there were no Rolling Stones', to quote Magic Slim... and without the influence of the Blues on the British Invasion in the Sixties, Rock would look totally different today...

Let's give it up for Chicagoooooooo!!!



After one hot day and a cracking night of thunder, lightning, rain (a lot of it) and heavy wind (of course), we're ready to confront Chicago with it's most precious posession: the Blues.


'You damn right, I've got the Blues,


From my head down to my shoes,


You damn right, I've got the Blues,


I can't win, 'cause I don't have a thing to lose'

(Buddy Guy)

MOONLIGHT DRIVE.

In 3 weeks, it all begins.

A sweet, funny, nimble, bracingand refreshing nostalgic journey. That's what we aim for, that's what we want.

Preparations are taking over almost a year now.. I honestly can't wait!! When I started this whole journey, I knew I was going to be running off my feet with a lot of hard work. But making this trip is a life long dream finally coming true on the most beautiful way possible: I get to make a Format out of it. It makes me proud, happy, anxious but scared at the same time. I consume books of the Sixties and the Beatniks ('The Doors of Perception' - Huxley , 'On the Road' - Kerouac, Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs) and the Route 66 ('The Grapes of Wrath' - Steinbeck, 'Route 66: The Mother Road' - Wallis), leaf through the pages of travelguides and diaries of roadtrips, watch DVD's (Easy Rider, Zabriski Point, Hair, Across The Universe, Travel Express), contact people, study Music, get a taste of the sixties and BREATHE IT ALL IN AND OUT, DAY AFTER DAY.

With this blog, I want to share my story with you, hope you'll enjoy reading, seeing and feeling it -"Parked beside the ocean on my moonlight drive"(...)