| Hermano - Son'Art, Bordeaux, France |
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| Notes |
| Recorded at the Son'Art, Bordeaux, France. Great audience recording. From the info file: Hermano - Angry American Tour - 2004-11-24 @ Son'Art, Bordeaux, France, Aud, 1h 17mn 17s. Excellent audience recording on Sony TCD-D8 DAT corder with Sony ECM 717 mic.>VIA optical cable>Hercules GT XP 7.1 Soundcard>Cool Edit Pro (minor edits)>FLAC FrontEnd 1. Angry American 2. 5 to 5 3. The Bottle 4. Life 5. Cowboys Suck 6. My Boy 7. Brother Bjork 8. Alone Jeffe 9. Roll Over 10. Let’s Get it On 11. Is This OK? 12. Landetta 13. Quite Fucked 14. TNT 15. Senor Moreno’s Plan 16. Manager’s Special 17. Green Machine a27545c4d253b95f0d920985ed950a80 *Track01.flac 731015e2f7f63b3bb39eebbe227cb4c3 *Track02.flac 0c3449765764517dca753d29e95a108a *Track03.flac 5fe537f003df7863f08352b5e6b29c83 *Track04.flac ee0cf9a1ba631ce2bffccab723840541 *Track05.flac 3361c45d4abb22c671c6c3f4b69e22bd *Track06.flac a63817c2c524229a391a7d059b36339f *Track07.flac 67ec931823f6a592eedc0688c407bb71 *Track08.flac 5386b0ce29f41b45ee8697272e4a5d21 *Track09.flac d3e8bff8bb268f9b74dc4bf1cf0f09e7 *Track10.flac 9247ca053b46f1f43814200822c38a69 *Track11.flac 85daf03154f455f1c80a0966bedf8046 *Track12.flac ae346c2c00729f280065644002a89504 *Track13.flac 341029f224b572b74c606e4a15022d85 *Track14.flac 183d17fc3e66461c1b462298b6af0dbd *Track15.flac a634a9b5cfeff7ae48447a2c2a3449df *Track16.flac ea4a94f3368c1391072aed5d64bbe4b7 *Track17.flac Vocals - John Garcia Guitar - David Angstrom Bass - Dandy Brown Drums - Chris Leathers 2nd guitar - Olly Smit (Celestial Season) Hermano Tour Report Angry American Tour November 23, 2004 'We woke up just as Willie was driving us across the bridge into the city. Bordeaux rose like a blackened ghost against the river bank. There was a hazy kind of atmosphere that hung around the architecture, making it appear ethereal and lonely. Along the main thoroughfare, there was a small house that was surrounded by a rusty iron gate. Outside of it, a man dressed in a laboratory coat ushered a woman from the building, seemingly comforting some kind of stress she was going through. He smiled at her nervously as he held her hands for a few moments before she turned and moved toward the gate alone. The bus began to move again as she passed through the gate and out to the sidewalk. She looked complacent, and happy to press through another day. It’s strange to have those be the first images of the day, It’s the kind of thing that hushes the soul briefly, and makes a traveler remember that he is thousands upon thousands of miles from home. Moving through the city toward the venue, we passed narrow street after narrower street lined by the uniqueness of the southern European architecture. It is truly a world apart. Maybe it could be compared to sections of New Orleans if the imagination was stretched, but there is something about the enormity of the stone that makes it appear as though giants once moved through the streets long ago. Really, the buildings aren’t that tall, rising three or four stories at the most above the city streets. They just appear to be enormous. I wonder if they simply breathe with the romance of the south, and in the inhalation of that emotion they puff out in some kind of optical illusion that makes the observer dizzy with the power of romantic thoughts. At the end of an alley, we parked and began to unload into the Son Arts. From the moment we entered the club, it was obvious that the folks on the staff were eager to be involved with the events of the evening. It seemed like they were prepared with every answer before we had a chance to come up with the questions. Sophie ran here and there, and didn’t seem to stop the entire night. “Southern hospitality”should be a global colloquialism. Away from the venue for maybe a half an hour, we returned to find it filled with people whose eyes were filled with anticipation. Goddamn, what an incredibly humbling experience to have all of these folks interested in what we are doing. It is audiences like the one in Bordeaux that makes us want to pull out every damn song we have ever learned just so we won’t have to leave the stage until we have exhausted everything . . . and that’s just what we tried to do until the club let us know it was time to finish.' |