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Down The Years // |
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Opio para el pueblo – The Toten Hosen in Cuba – 15.5.-22.5.2001Something to browse through: the diary covering our trip to Cuba, 15-22.05.2001 May 15 | May 16 | May 17 | May 18 | May 19 | May 20 | May 21 | May 22
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Day Six – Baleneario UniversidadThe day of the concert. Slowly but surely we were getting nervous, because some of the equipment needed was still missing. Elmar’s excursions of the previous day through the local studios hadn’t brought any results and so off he went again this morning. You can’t simply reach for your cell phone in Cuba to give notice of how you’re getting on, so all we could do was wait until our back-line boss would return.
Andi & Kuddel:
the Havana Club No news until midday. A bus was due at 3 p.m. to pick us up and bring us to the venue. But it only came at 3 p.m. Cuban time, which is a rough 90 minutes later and with him came Elmar, with empty hands. Never mind, we decided to go to the venue empty-handed, we might just find something there, after all, we weren’t the only band to play and amps had so far always turned up, even in Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil. When we arrived at the Balneareo we were greeted by all those nutters, our hard core supporters, who had made the trip to Havana to join us here. Let me take the opportunity to thank you – our respect!
 The Balneareo Universidad turned out to be a decrepit open-air swimming bath beside the ocean, a bizarre backdrop, and a great place for a concert. In the midst of the terrain stood a rickety stage, consisting of a few wooden boards and something that looked like the scaffolding used for paint work. The lighting system was four lamps, fixed onto the corners of the stage and more or less on the height of our heads. A wonderful sight to see Faust walking around on stage and the planks bending dangerously beneath him. Okay, now we knew what we were in for: one of the good old adventure gigs. But even more adventurous than the stage was the technical equipment. Our roadies were speechless. Cables without insulation and plugs, perilous and do-it-yourself-style electricity everywhere: glue and clip were the best tricks here. It was all quite bizarre but not really as bad as it looked. But we still didn’t have any amps for our guitars and the bass. This problem had in the meantime made its way right up to the ministry of cultural affairs which, by afternoon, was helping in the search for the matching amps. According to schedule, we should have started rehearsal at 6 p.m. At 7 p.m. our sound system was still not complete and by this time even the most optimistic among us were looking desperate. We might have had fascinating and fun days in Havana, it might be a beautiful city and we might have met interesting people, but it was all nothing should we have to leave again without having played a concert. That simply is the worst-case scenario for any band... Tour leader Kiki hadn’t said a word in hours and was ready to cancel the gig. We were just about to climb back on the bus when the information came which we had been waiting for so long: a studio had finally been found that could supply us with the needed amplifiers and the only little bit missing was a written agreement that had to be signed by a member of the ministry, but it was as good as under way. What a relief! All at once the good mood was back and so was the excitement, wondering what the evening would have in store for us. In the meantime, we had been told that a short report had been shown about us on the afternoon’s TV program, so the place would probably not remain completely empty. When we returned to the Balneareo around 10 p.m. the area was nicely filled – approximately 1,000 people were there, according to those who should know such things. An interesting mixture. A handful of punks, lots of heavy metal guys, some fans from Alemania, hiphop people, normal blokes, hippies, rastafaris, a whole caboodle of mixed people. Two hiphop duos were playing before us, one of them not even too bad, but they didn’t quite set the sparks flying. At 11 p.m. our road crew got the stage set. Right next to Noppa, a bat flew against one of the spotlights and dropped on the middle of the stage, numb. Ready, steady, get out there and kick arse, under the night sky of Havana. Immediately during the first song, the stage caved in on Andi’s side. So our bass player had to move up and share with Kuddel’s part of the stage, taking care with every jump that he didn’t land on the wrong plank, in order not to make the stage collapse entirely. As a reward for our fans who had followed us all the way from Europe, we played a few new songs which, according to Campino, “are good because they sound like the old ones.” A statement that earned him a few laughs. The reaction of the audience was twofold: one part went with it straight away, the other was staring at us, confused. But when we played “Guantanamera”, which is a kind of secret national anthem in Cuba, we finally collared them. Things were going to be settled with “Hang On Sloopy”. Campino climbed onto the amps, from there onto a terrace of the building beside the stage and then onto the balustrade of a balcony, where a lump of onlookers was compelled by his free-climbing interlude.
Campino on his way
to the lamp On the balustrade, he reached for a lamp post to hold on to, but then changed his mind and bumped his head on the glass case holding the bulb, which shattered into a thousand pieces. The people standing underneath him weren’t too happy to be showered with glass. Things really looked worse than they were. The only casualty was the lamp post, which had a crack and was hanging down from the balcony now. But it probably was a bit much for the local organisers and the police standing by. People in uniform and civilians were running backstage, yelling and gesticulating. When Campino announced a new song, suddenly a Spanish voice was heard from the off, transmitting something over the amps. At first, our lead vocalist tried to make some witty comments about the unreal situation, but suddenly there was an electricity cut. They had turned it off. That was it. We had just about played for one hour and now we had to leave the stage. The audience was getting restless and for a short while we were afraid that the good vibes would turn bad, but after ten minutes of utter excitement we calmed down. Of course it’s no fun being chased from the stage when you think you’re just about to win over the audience and everything’s working out fine, and there are things in life more pleasing, but then... The second half might not have gone too well, but after all, it was a good “away game”, and the finish certainly wasn’t boring. So we hung around with the kids from Havana until around 1 a.m., giving away all our T-shirt supplies.
Vom & fans after the gig
There was a little trouble on the bus because the driver wouldn’t start until everyone had taken their seat. Which was a bit difficult, because we had 20 extra people on board, and it’s an absurd rule in a country where it’s nothing unusual to see people travelling on the loading space of trucks. We simply had to get rid of the secret agent granny who was here to watch over us and had been going on our nerves all day long with her bad mood and her Backstreet Boys T-shirt. When she was taken care of we went to the Malecon for our habitual tea, which tasted so delicious we stayed there until sunrise... Best regards, yours, the Hosen
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