Saturday, July 15:
So I'm sitting here, backstage at the Transit Festival. The festival grounds are in Germany, about as far northeast as you could possibly go before touching Polish countryside. I've been to a lot of places ... but I've never been here. It seems like a dystopian hippy commune. The people are nice and friendly. I see a lot of hemp, Tevas, and dreadlocks (on white people—which, we can all agree, is a different type of dreadlock). The festival is humble in size and, consequentially, the ideal candidate for our first show—you see, we haven't been together on the same stage since our spring tour ended in mid-April. We will have to work out the kinks as we go.
It's the calm before the storm now. Gabriel Sullivan and Hikit Corbel (our French bassist) are re-stringing their guitars. I'm at the same table, writing this diary entry on my iPhone because my computer is being a punk-ass bitch. It's quiet. The festival continues outside. But we've chosen the serenity of our backstage room, to accomplish these tiny tasks at hand; the tasks that occupy 99% of our job. The festival goers oblivious to the sonic assault that we will soon unleash up them. Yessir ... it is quiet now. But, not for long ...
Go here to read Day 2
from XIXA's tour diary.