Here We Go Again!

After many hours and days and weeks of rehearsals, we're ready to hit the road and perform our humongously entertaining show for you!

I've been packing all night; trying to cram 2 weeks' worth of clothes into a tiny weekender bag. Good idea, Mike. But eventually, I won. 

My computer is freshly upgraded (after I gutted the thing and replaced a couple parts... cause I'm too cheap to buy a new laptop), and all my gear has found a cozy home in my backpack.  I'm hoping to finish my new album on the road.

Flying out in the morning.

Portland, here we come!

Versailles

Flashback: Paris. On day 3, Jaco, Candice and I went to Versailles to explore the palace.

Seriously beautiful and seriously over the top.

The trees were manicured to within an inch of their little twiggy lives.

No Photoshop, Seriously

The palace itself was a testament to excess and royal insanity.

At odds with the beautiful gold-leafed everything was an art exhibit, unnerving in its randomness. You see, this palace-wide sculpture installation might have been cool... Somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn't the friggin' Palace at Versailles.

What was this installation, you ask? Balloon animals. Made of steel.

Inappropriate

Quite modern and cool actually, but not when standing in front of a gorgeous mural from the French Revolution.

Uber-inappropriate

And, as if things couldn't get more arbitrary, one piece was a steel sculpture of Michael Jackson and his chimp, Bubbles.

Which of These Things is Not Like the Other?

Then we frolicked through the gardens of Marie Antoinette. That party princess had a serious party house with a serious party yard.

Jaco took a pic of me with my serious face:

Don't Mess with the German-Egyptian Frenchman

One more beautiful night in Paris, and then we flew to London to finish the Eurotour with Miley (to be continued).

Who's This Andre Gill, Anyway?

Ah yes. Back to my EuroStory. From October. I'm that far behind.

When we stepped off the train in Paris, I immediately fell in love. I was sort of geared up for disappointment. After all, how many things in life can possibly live up to my high expectations?

Well, Paris was exactly what I thought it would be: a gorgeous city full of passionate artists, intimate bistros and cheese. Lots of cheese.

Upon arrival, I checked into my impossibly tiny hostel, the Hotel Andre Gill. Yeah, they called it a Hotel, but it was a hostel. In fact, it was basically what you'd get if somebody made a French cartoon about a hostel, complete with a big spirally staircase, Japanese tourists, and the management baking croissants in the kitchen. It was sort of like living in The Triplets of Belleville, only with much less awesomeness and much more body odor.

Okay, not exactly the Ritz, but Disney was not paying for this room. I was. And I am not a person of wealth.

Proudly Displaying Our Two-Star Rating

After checking in, I crammed myself and my bags into the smallest elevator in Europe.

I attempted to turn around while in the elevator, but my backpack and the tiny lift prevented any of that nonsense. This was the kind of elevator one could only "back out" of.

Oh also, my room was on the 6th floor, and the elevator only went to the 5th. Why?

One should not ask questions at the Hotel Andre Gill. If one does, that question may lead to other questions. Like perhaps:

• Why is my bed made for a little person?
• Why is there only a closet and a sink in my room, and no toilet?
• Why is the toilet on the 6th floor out-of-order, forcing me to walk down the stairs, in the dark, in the middle of the night, in my boxer shorts?
• Which leads to, why is there no light in the hallway?
• Why, when I finally do reach the 5th floor toilet, is the light broken, forcing me to try and aim properly in the dark?
• Why, when I want to (heaven forbid) actually shower, do I have to walk to the 5th floor, take the elevator to the 1st floor, and then wait in line for the only shower in the entire building?

So... One should not ask questions at the Hotel Andre Gill.

Apparently, Andre Gill was a famous caricaturist. Just take a moment to let that sink in.

But none of that mattered anyway, because I was in Paris (!), and I certainly planned on spending as little time as possible in my Hotel/hostel.

So out I went. First, to the Eiffel Tower:


Then, to gorge on EuroSweets:

I had quite an adventurous day out, riding the trains, meeting Parisians, speaking pigeon-French.
___________

The following day, I met up with Jamie, Jaco and Candice for a little museum hopping. First, the Rodan museum, for a little sculpture 101.

Staring Contest

The Thinker(s)

Consoling the Inconsolable

Okay, that last one wasn't in the Rodan museum. Because in Paris, there's just random sculpture on the streets. It's like a big art explosion. Otherwise known as "Mike Schmid's New Favorite Place."

At the end of that day, Jamie and I took a little tour of Monmarte: him because he's all cultured n' stuff, and me because I like Amelie.

Sacre Coeur Basillica was a sight to behold: partially because it is a marvel of architechture, and partially because the French insisted on partying hard in front of said marvel, creating a depressing and ironic sight:


Oh, Paris. Even your flaws are strangely artful.

The next day, we checked out Notre Dame, The Musee D'Orsay, The Latin Quarter and...just everything awesome. Lots of walking, lots of bread & dairy, and great...great escargot.

The final day, we went to Versailles. (Next entry).

The Republic Can't Feel Your Pain

"Prague...You'll come back a bug."
Grover, Kicking & Screaming

On the train from Berlin to Prague, there was a very distinct point at which we realized we were no longer in Germany. It looked like this:

In our travels to London, Amsterdam and Berlin, we had seen McDonalds, Starbucks, H&M...all the same stuff we see at home. Things weren't really that different. You could usually find someone who spoke English.

Prague, on the other hand... Prague doesn't care about you. It doesn't care that you are lost or cold or hungry. It says, "You're in the Czech Republic now, fool. Deal with it."

And we loved that about it. But not at first.

When we arrived, it was a Sunday night around 8pm-ish. The train station was dirty and filled with sketchy-looking people. We were all creeped out. So we quickly jog-walked to the exit. Above ground, the streets were empty. There was an eerie calm in the city.

We wanted out immediately. But instead, we went to dinner. At a restaurant called "People." I thought perhaps we would be on the menu.

Alas, tasty tasty food at (what I think were) reasonable prices.

In Prague, the currency is Czech Crowns, which has to be the dumbest currency ever. Want an ice cream cone? That'll be 45 crowns. Wanna see a string quartet concert? 250 crowns. I about had a heart attack when I went to the ATM and withdrew 2000 crowns (approx $120). Of course, it all starts to make more sense after a couple days.

While we definitely felt we weren't in Kansas anymore, there were a couple modern blights to remind us of home:

Day 2. During the daylight, the city was much more beautiful, and much less sketchy.

Jaco, Candice, Jamie and I decided to make our own walking tour of the city. Spotting a castle on a far-of hillside, we decided to walk. It was up a very, very tall hill, of these:

Knee Pain, Just for You!

At the top, we toured the giant castle, as well as the cathedral next door.

Took 3 Whole Weeks to Build!

After that, we walked around the city, watching painters paint on the bridge, puppeteers puppeting in shops, and the aforementioned string quartet concert. A gorgeous day. By the end, nobody wanted to leave Prague. Except me. I was too psyched about Paris!

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

We took the Eurorail from Amsterdam to Berlin.

We headed straight to Brandenburg Gate, and started soaking in history immediately.

Okay, so neither Candice, Jaco nor I had any clue what the historical significance of this gate was. We even read the big plaque thingy. Basically, it had something to do with fighting for independence. Anyway, it was big and pretty and important.

Moving on.

We went to a "traditional German restaurant," whatever that meant. Well, that meant wieners.

And heavy, starchy weightiness in our bellies.

Imagine the digestive tornado to follow. Germans have cast-iron intestines.

We then proceeded to ride the subway everywhere.

We met some really awesome German folks, who became our new friends. Partying ensued. At one point, we had a big sing-along. The Germans sang Kate Nash, the Americans sang Third-Eye Blind (okay, well Jaco did). But everybody knew all the lyrics to Oasis. It's universal.

Eventually we found our way to a party that everybody in town seemed to be talking about. Super "underground." (Of course, how "underground" could it be if everybody was talking about it?) It was a giant dance party held in a former power plant.

Note the 3rd Floor Rocking Out

There was much dancing and frolicking and stumbling about.

On the way home, I noticed that someone had written "Someday you will be loved" on a car window:
It was late, I was not-quite-coherent, and I had only seen German written everywhere. For these reasons, I suddenly felt very emotional, and started taking approximately 973 pictures of said window. Jaco and Candice had to convince me of my lameness and pull me away from the car.

And thus the night ended.

Back to our cheap little hostel we went.

Cheap Hostel Room for Three, Please

As we were totally slumming it, Jamie wanted nothing to do with us, and rented a beautiful apartment elsewhere in Berlin. I'm sure he was having fun, but we were roughing it.

Day two: we strolled down the Berlin wall.

The Most Berlin-y Picture I've Ever Seen

Over the next two days, I decided to brush up on my German (I took a few years of it in high school, but had since forgotten much). And there was more dancing. More partying. More taking the subway all over German creation.

Hot Girls On Bikes

Amsterdam. Beautiful, beautiful Amsterdam.

After BBC Switch, Jaco, Candice, Jamie and I flew from London to Holland for a little time off.

We stayed on this houseboat.

Which was very exciting,

and showcased a gorgeous view at night.

The streets were full of people on bicycles, flying every which way. It seemed incredibly dangerous to me; I always felt on the verge of being mowed down by some two-wheeled maniac.

One of Jamie's good friends wrote a song about the city, called "Hot Girls on Bikes," due to the scorching hotness of said girls on said bikes. They all looked like models...whizzing past us at high speeds. Jamie was totally into it, because he just likes to look, and not actually talk to girls he finds attractive. I didn't love it as much. By the time I even noticed them, they were already gone. Somehow though, it seemed a fitting metaphor for my lovelife.

Amsterdam is all about Overwindowing

We spent 3 days walking, relaxing, eating, walking, going to museums, eating, walking, and massaging our aching feet. The Van Gogh museum was quite moving.

Our final day in town was punctuated by an extremely random and violent hailstorm, which was kinda fun.

Hail on the houseboat next door.

Then we were off to Berlin.

Way Way Away

Still in Europe, doing a round of promo for Miley's "Breakout" album. WiFi access has been spotty at best for the last 3 weeks here, but I've taken buckets of pictures, so plan on full disclosure when I return next week.

Until then, here's a video of a monkey waiting tables:

The Week-Long Hug

All this week, I've been up in Washington state (Tumwater, to be exact), visiting my sweet little Noah. He is truly a miracle, and we've been having a great time playing, eating, sleeping and playing some more. It's quite a wondrous thing to watch him experience the world. I'll post some pics and more details when I get back home.

During the custody proceedings, I'm only allowed 2-3 hours with Noah per day, so there is a lot of waiting. Which is boring. At the moment, I've actually stooped to watching MythBusters in my hotel room. This is because I've run out of fun things to do in Tumwater, of which there are about three: go to a park, go to a movie and...okay, two. I could also go for a drive at 10 miles per hour and then pull out slowly in front of oncoming traffic, which seems to be supercool around here.

Just counting the seconds till I get to see that perfect boy again.

The Today Show

I realize I'm a bit behind on the blogging. Life just barrels onward, and I can't seem to catch my breath. Having a great time though.

So, a couple weeks ago we played The Today Show (which along with The Tonight Show, completes the set for us, I suppose). The concert took place smack dab in the middle of Rockefeller Square, with approximately 12,000 people shoehorned in there, which was sort of like dropping the entire Pacific ocean into a drinking glass.

I got to play with the brand new, delicious keyboards that Roland supplied me with, in exchange for my Miley-related face. They're much easier to play than my old keyboards, with the added benefit of making Schmid Island look like a totally pro vacation destination.

Mike - stunned by the keyboard greatness.
Nate - bored behind his drumset.

This was another whirlwind trip for us. We got in late at night, and the morning of the show, we had to soundcheck at 5am. Miley only got a few hours of sleep, but of course she was still brilliant. And of course, so were we. That's what we get paid for. The complaining is a free bonus (I like to call it "added value").

In the dressing room, they had a big spread of donuts, fruit and sandwiches. So of course, I had three donuts. When the show began, I had a stomach ache (what am I, five? "Mikey can't resist the candy", eh?).

Jaco is constantly asking me to take his picture

But this time he returned the favor.
I'm apparently ready to fake pounce, or something.

Nate and I became fast friends. If you happen to have the show Tivo'd, you can see at the beginning of Miley's dressing room interview, Nate and I are sitting on the couch behind her, having some fun with his iPhone. He had installed the Magic 8-Ball application and we were asking it some questions (at the most inappropriate possible time). First, "will we be a complete trainwreck on stage?" It's answer: "Of course!" Second, Nate asked, "will I be responsible for this?" The ball replied, "Absolutely not." So Nate was off scot-free, but who was going to ruin the show?

We went back out to the stage and played our faces off. It was a pretty typical show: Kay and Nadia shook their little booties, I held down the Island, Nate banged on some stuff, Jamie and Jaco got way too much camera time, Vashon intimidated little girls, Stacy looked on with a broken arm and a tear in his eye, and Miley belted like the charismatic little rockstar she is.

Turns out the only thing that went wrong is that the host didn't know we were playing another song, and tried to throw to commercial. But really, 8-Ball -- "train wreck?" That may be pushing it.

Before the flight home, Nate bought me a book of Sudoku, as we were talking about how I didn't understand the mass cultural fascination with it. Of course, I also thought it was about math, and we all know how I run screaming in the other direction when confronted with simple addition. Nate explained that there is no math involved, and that even a total knob-monkey like myself could understand it. I was addicted within five minutes, and spent a good part of my return flight filling in puzzles. The rest of the time was spent watching Curb Your Enthusiasm on my iPod, attempting to sleep with my head rolling from side to side, and holding those Terra Blue chips up to the light to admire the special pearlescent chemical compound that I probably shouldn't be eating.

Z100 Zootopia

New York City welcomed us with a bleak, cold rainstorm. A rainstorm with which we became very familiar as we waited soggily for our shuttle to come pick us up from the JFK airport. It didn't show. After over an hour, Stacy made a phone call to the shuttle service. The service replied, "He's been waiting for over an hour. He couldn't get in to the gate, so he's around the back."

No one called to tell us this?

The only thing worse than waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle is waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle that's parked around the corner.

We made our way to the bus marked "Krystal." Their slogan was "a 'gem' of a ride!"

Kill me now.

After boarding and finally leaving the airport, the driver swerved and tailgated his way into the city. Nearly a half-hour later, we pulled over near a basketball court in what was clearly the ghetto. This was not our hotel. The driver exited the bus. He slowly walked around the side and looked closely at the front tire. Then the back tire. Then he went around the other side and did the same.

And then, without a word, he got back on the bus and resumed driving.

Okay then.

He had a strong preference for the right lane on the freeway, adding at least 15 additional minutes to our ride. When we finally reached the hotel, he parked at the entrance that was clearly marked "closed after 7pm." It was nearly 9pm.

He started pulling all our bags out of the back of the bus, when he finally heard us all screaming, "We need to move!" and "Put the bags back!" and "Why are you so dumb!?"

So he drove the van around the block to the front entrance.

Not quite a "gem" after all.

My room at the Affinia Hotel was spacious, with a full kitchen and a high ceiling, but tempered by the customary miniscule New York bathroom: you can only take a shower if you suck in your gut.

The pillows were comfy, but in case they weren't, the Affinia had a pillow menu to put that other place to shame (click photo to enlarge):
What to do when you're in New York City? Well, same thing I always do: see my buddy Ben. The two of us slogged through the wet city to some country steak joint that oddly smelled like warm brownies, which is never a bad thing. I say "oddly," because brownies were not on the menu.

I had the burger.

Just like last time, it was garbage night in the city.

I'm convinced this is an everyday sight. Trash sprawled up almost every street. And trust me, there's nothing like the smell of wet garbage in the evening air to rid your brain of brownie thoughts.

The following day, we were slated to play Z100's Zootopia. Z100 is supposedly the most widely listened-to station in the world. I'm not sure how anyone can prove this.

The festival was being held at what was previously the Meadowlands Arena in Jersey, now annoyingly renamed the Izod Center. During the tour, I grew weary of arenas with names like the Dunkin Donuts Center, the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater and the FedEx Forum. Are there any venues that haven't been bought by The Man?

We had our soundcheck early in the morning and everything went very well. I can't say the same for Jessie McCartney, who spent his entire half-hour listening to Pro-Tools tracks while his playback guy tried to fix some completely inaudible problem. The band looked impatient, and Jessie looked like he was about ready to blow.

At noon, they commuted us back to the hotel for an entire day of freedom in the city. I went to the park.

The Krystal bus picked us up again at 8:30pm and drove us back out to Jersey for the big show. Also performing, the Jonas Brothers, OneRepublic, Danity Kane and Simple Plan. We got back just in time for me to check out Sara Bareilles. I really like "Love Song." Good thing too, cause they only let her play that one tune, even though everybody else was playing half-hour sets.

After her, all the girls swooned for New Kids On The Block. Yes. That's not a typo. New Kids. And how they did swoon. Some of our female dancers (and I won't name names to spare their dignity) knew all the lyrics and were very excited to see their childhood idols all growed up (read: old and depressing) and still dancing the same dance steps. It was like Bring Your Dad To Work Night at the Apollo. But I'm happy for them, I guess. They just grabbed themselves another 15 minutes.

We took the stage around 10:30 and Miley proceeded to melt some faces. Everything went well until the song, "Right Here," when my ears went out. I looked around and noticed that I wasn't the only one. Jamie was mouthing to Stacy, "No ears!" Jaco looked at me and mouthed, "Did you lose your ears?" We kept playing despite the fact that none of us could hear much of anything, as our ears block outside sound, so when they turn off, you can't hear very well. A while later in the song, the ears came back on, and of course we were off the click, so they had to stop the click track. Again, we kept playing.

Looking at the faces in the audience, nobody noticed the numerous heart attacks that just occured on stage. Those crazy kids just wanna have a good time. And a good time they had.

One show down, one to go. Tomorrow, the big NetJets show.

Happy 1st Birthday, Noah!

Before I took off for Florida, I jaunted up to Seattle to see Noah for his first birthday.

I picked up my little rental sedan and drove straight from the airport to Noah's place. Nicole allowed me to try feeding him right away. Generally, he approved. I can't believe how much he's grown. Last time I saw him, he could only drink from a bottle. Now he's eating bananas, applesauce, cereal, and he can pick it up with his hands and put it in his mouth. I was delighted to see that he is still ridiculously adorable.

After that brief visit, it was bedtime for him, and I went to my wacky and inconsistent hotel, which had the hardest bed I can remember sleeping on. Basically a glorified floor. And not that glorified. Yet, it had a kitchen, with a full-size fridge, stove, microwave, etc. I couldn't figure it out.

My four day stay flew by, as Noah, Nicole, her friend Cortnie and I went to the farmers market, the local waterfall and to some strange nature parade, filled with costumed hippies posing as ostriches and multitudinous other creatures.

I discovered Noah's obsession with crackers:

"Ta Da!"

Played rollercoaster with his stroller (I promise he likes it), talked about current events (okay, not really), listened to music, and just generally bonded. What a special, amazing person he is. I love that little guy.

He opened his presents (with minor wrapping ripping assistance). My favorite thing that I got for him was a toy piano, which is a legitimate musical instrument. He really seems to love music, and has always been enthralled with the piano...or maybe I'm projecting. I have no desire to force him to do what I do, but if he enjoys the piano, I'm not gonna cry.

Don'cha just wanna pinch those little cheeks?

The Loose Definition of Tomorrow

I know I said part two "coming tomorrow." Well, I've just come home from the American Hi Fi show (Stacy and Jamie rocked it out!) and now I'm packing to leave for Nashville bright and early in the morning, for the CMT Awards. It's late, I'm tired, and I had a blast at the show, seeing all sorts of people I haven't seen in quite a while.

So let's say "coming soon," how about?

Dining With the Dead

On Oscar Sunday, instead of going to an Oscar party (I was dying to watch the awards, but Tivo'd them back home instead), we went to a dinner party for members of the exclusive Pho list. I met tons of important people and embarrassed myself, as usual. The worst part was, the restaurant was playing the Oscars on all the TV's. And it was muted, with the captions on. So I would try desperately to avoid it, and then would accidentally catch a split second, and see the captions saying things like "and the winner of Best Costume Design is Sweeney Todd."

This happened more than three times.

By the end, I was exhausted from all the socializing (have I ever mentioned I'm a total introvert?), and dragged myself to bed...after taking one picture:


The Kabuki hotel really treated us well. And Monday morning, I woke up to this:

Ahh.

Monday brought the San Francisco Music Tech Summit, which was attended by many brilliant folks including the founder of YouTube, the former drummer from Creeper Lagoon, the creator of CDBaby and tons of musicians and web people. Quite a meeting of minds.

During the afternoon, we interviewed John Perry Barlow, one of the songwriters for The Grateful Dead. What a thoughtful, intelligent man.

We filmed and filmed and filmed some more. Interviews and panels and behind-the-scenes, oh my! Samantha hosted a panel sponsored by Digital Freedom:

She also played a show at the end of the day for the hundreds of smarties. And afterwards, we were personally invited to join John Perry Barlow (of the Dead) and Claudio Prado, the Vice Minister of Culture for Brazil, for some Korean barbecue. To hear these two trade stories was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Over the course of the day, we heard tons of great ideas, brilliant internet strategies and genius theories, all of which I promptly forgot by the car ride home.

I Am Not Stalking You

I realize that I'm way behind on my blog. So here's a little catch-up.

Last Friday, Samantha and I piled cameras, tripods, a keyboard, a guitar, suitcases, CDs, cables, a PA system, bags of videotapes and so much more into my tiny compact car for a business trip to San Francisco.

When we arrived six hours later, we immediately jumped into work. For the TV show, we were covering Jonathan Coulton's (or JoCo's) sold-out show at the Great American Music Hall. This show was quite important to him, as a massive and well-paid camera crew was filming it for his upcoming DVD, and we were filming the filming. Samantha and I are both big fans, and were very excited.

It was interesting to meet his fans. I wasn't surprised at all that they were all nerds, as his music is total geek-rock (and I mean this in the nicest way). However, Samantha and I were both very surprised that they were all rude. Not sure if it was a San Francisco thing, or a nerds-who-have-never-seen-sunlight-and-have-no-social-skills thing, but every single one that spoke to us was shockingly unkind.

Despite all the angry dorks (or maybe because of, who knows?), Jonathan put on a fantastic show, filled with references to robots, zombies, monsters and concluding with the announcement-masquerading-as-spectacle, where Jonathan and various popular bloggers played his song from Portal, "Still Alive" in Rock Band (surprise, everyone!). The collective geeksplosion of brain matter was sort of gross. But fun.

(A fan gave him this creepy doll, which they created, based on his song, "Creepy Doll." How nice...and obsessive.)

The whole night helped me realize that although I am a geek, there are perhaps levels of geekiness, and those people are on some crazy "we-go-to-Comic-Con-dressed-as-Joss-Whedon" level.

After the show, we headed backstage for an interview with Jonathan. At this point, I should mention that Samantha told JoCo in her previous interview with him (which you can now hear at smtvmusic.com) that I am a huge fan. I was not present for this. She went further, saying that I'm basically stalking him. She has continued to joke that I am in love with him every time she's talked to him in the months since then. She even put the horribly embarrassing picture from this previous entry on her Flickr page. He's a little freaked out, I'm guessing.

For the record, I like his music. That's pretty much it. I don't want him to do my dishes or wash my laundry or clean my toilets. I just want to listen to "Still Alive" every now and then.

That said, Jonathan seemed downright afraid of me from the word go. This made us both completely uncomfortable. But we did our best to create a little video content...

...that I probably won't be able to use. I'm scheduled to edit this footage tomorrow, and I'm honestly dreading even looking at it. Surely, I look like a complete idiot. Either way, you'll be able to see for yourself when it airs later this month. [Sarcasm activated] I can hardly wait. [Sarcasm deactivated].

Wow, I really am a geek.