Day 26: Jersey City, New Jersey
Welcome
Yesterday we played at White Eagle Hall in Jersey City.
We had finally crossed the continent. Blue Paradise and the safe hands of Mr Bus had done it, getting us across the 4000km breadth of this landmass with the loss of only one wheel, one air conditioning unit, and one power steering system. I awoke to the sounds of construction forcing themselves through the walls of the bus, various clangings audible even over the rumble of the air con, and when I slipped out of my bunk to observe our surroundings, I saw men hard at work at the task of breaking concrete, and then moving pieces of broken concrete around.
It was Saturday morning and things were alive in Jersey City. I stumbled into an open-air vintage market on my way to breakfast and came away with a lovely polo shirt that is both comfortable and dazzling. It was all happening on this little corner of the footpath – clothes shoppers, dog owners, dogs, and market vendors with their phones out busily grabbing social media content. Right next door I found the sandwich shop I was looking for, a tiny joint called No Forks Given, just a kitchen, a counter and a couple of tables out on the kerb. I sat outside in the pleasant morning air and dined on a fried artichoke sandwich, the breaded and deep-fried thistle flower slathered in lemon caper herb mayo and served on a French baguette with arugula and Calabrian chili honey.
As I walked back towards the bus there were many New Zealanders contributing to the New Jersey State economy as members of both bands browsed the racks of clothing and pulled out items that were to their liking. The venue was now open, so I pulled my suitcase out of the vehicle’s storage bay and headed inside for a look. Several flights of stairs later and I was in our dressing room, a pleasantly furnished space of exposed brick with a highly inspirational photo of bass playing on the wall above the couches. More importantly it had a window. Access to natural light and natural air is an incredibly luxury when you spend so much of your day in a dark theatre deprived of these amenities.
At 2pm sharp the load-in began, a push up a steep staircase that thankfully had been equipped with ramps to capitalise on the invention of the wheel. A train of humans swarmed the trailer and dragged everything up to the stage and the build began, with mic stands appearing, power cables being lain, and amps and drums coming out of their cases. Gradually everything found its assigned place and we began to soundcheck, starting with the drum microphones and finishing with the vocal microphones, as Gabe twiddled the knobs of the console and got everything dialed in. Immediately it was clear that we were in an excellent-sounding room. This former community centre has been beautifully outfitted for live music and the acoustics on stage held themselves together admirably under the strain of our amps and drums. The hall itself is very handsome with its 110-year-old architectural features very much intact. A boarded wooden floor faced up at a coffered ceiling, ornate plaster mouldings for the cornices, and a pair of magnificent stained-glass skylights depicting the busts of Frederic Chopin and Marcella Sembrich. For those who wish to watch the show in the comfort of a padded leather stool there is a balcony that wraps around the edges of the room, and it fits nicely with the character of the space, wrought iron with a wooden railing.
I regret to say that I didn’t get to explore much of Jersey City, only the area immediately around the venue, but Tristan went for a small trek after soundcheck and enjoyed views of the Hudson River and the Manhattan Skyline as well as spotting John Wick’s car in the historic Jersey City Cemetery.
I watched The Princess Chelsea set from the comfort of a plush leather stool, enjoying the bird’s eye view where I could observe every detail that happened, every single movement and interaction between the musicians. Our set was of an ilk that befitted its calendar status, for it was Saturday night and we faced a sold-out room who were determinedly rowdy. The heckling came in thick and fast, and Liz fielded it skilfully, replying when she could but unafraid to plough through a screaming voice with the powerful strings of her guitar. People bounced around and sung along as we enjoyed the great stage and the positive energy that reverberated in this fine room.
It was all over by half-past ten and we relaxed for a few minutes before swinging back into our post-show routine, efficiently packing everything down so that we might vacate the building before the midnight curfew. The cases were wheeled back down the ramps, and the trailer was carefully stacked, each piece of equipment placed in its individual cushioned seat and belted in. By the stroke of twelve we were on the bus booting up the Nintendo for our pre-bed entertainment.