Click on the artwork for the full scoop on each era...

Before we arrived, there was a lot of pressure to wow this country. We were the first band to be allowed in after a riot by another act just months before. No amount of joking could disguise the fact that we were a little tight in the tuckus. The hall we were to play just had Sting sell it out, and our gig previous to this was an armpit in Philadelphia's Chinatown. It was hard to forget because our drunken bus driver parked underneath an ornate Oriental arch. A strangely beautiful item in such a rotten area.

It was a wild band mood swing to say the least.

No matter what anybody ate, drank, or thought about ingesting, the result was a rush for either digestive orifice. We had been warned not to eat a long list of foreign foodstuffs, and the tap water wasn't recommended either. The reason was played out for us as we rode into the city like Lucky Lindy.

Canals run through Jakarta. Everywhere. And they teem with that unappealing fish known as raw sewage. I happened to catch sight of a construction worker drop his pants, squat, and empty yesterday's lunch into the canal. And he did indeed use "the last part over the fence" (as my father-in-law would say) to dispose of his used-up meal. The last thing I wanted to drink was the water. 

Civic observations aside, we were having our own digestive troubles, and the reading list for Scatology 101 was growing. I learned that I would have to appear in front a national tribunal as a representative for the band. Our manager was to sit at my side and "help" field questions. This was about as much help as an interior decorator for Helen Keller. Here's a partial list of the happy faces that greeted us...

As you can see, we had met the real promoters. It looked like a scene out of Midnight Express, and I got to be Billy. Rotten, cloying clove cigarette smoke filled the room, and I stumbled through it, found my place at the head of the table, and tried to act non-plussed. As if being interrogated by the military was on my daily to-do list. On the table in front of the prefect was a stack of passports. Somewhere in there was mine.

Evidently, our manager had allowed the government to take our passports when we entered the country. We'd been without them for three days at this point, and I was panicked. Having lived in the Middle East in the late 1970's, and being American, you got very possessive of your passport. There was a little political tension at the time, you might recall. l watched as the passport prefect looked several other passports over and quietly decided to himself who passed and who ported. I would like to know what rat-infested Devil's Island those people fell into.

Pleasantries were haltingly exchanged, and they jumped right to the bonus round. We got asked a host of questions, some applicable, some absurd. Included here are the answers I wanted to, but didn’t dare, give.

This sort of thing went on for about eight or nine weeks it seemed, and as I answered the passport boss was quietly observing my every facial tic and moving our four passports back and forth. It looked like he was playing with a Ouija Board, and it kept spelling out "THE GAWKY PALE GUY IS LYING!!! LOCK THEM UP!!!"

At that exact moment, my manager took the opportunity to start giggling like a Reseda teenager on whip-its, and I figured we were done for.

In an effort to bring sparkling diplomacy to the meeting, he started talking in a voice I used to call Tonto. Instead of tossing out an answer like: "We came here to play our songs as well as we can for you, and hope you enjoy it", it came out "We come long way. Play music. Fans happy. You happy. We happy. All go home smiles."

This inspiring display of oration was presented with a full arsenal of arm gestures, nods, Cro-Magnon sign language, and volume. I have noticed that when a representative from one culture is trying to speak with another, different one, this can be accomplished one of three ways.

1)     Speak REALLY LOUDLY. That way, if they don't understand you, they'll be deaf, and too concerned about their hearing loss to worry about the language barrier.

2)     Speak with an accent, not necessarily theirs. This will add a continental feel to the proceedings. If accompanied by a banging shoe, it really gives a good Cold War feel. "Vee vill crosh yew" gets added points.

3)     Follow the aforementioned Tonto path. Simple, yet it effectively combines the best of the first two approaches. Horse optional.