After a week or so on the road I begin to have a particularly strange feeling that I recognize everyone. The more often I have it, the more I begin to think that this is just a function of the human brain to help the organism from freaking out. And clubs around the world begin to resemble each other because of the particular functions they serve, you know, as particular kinds of gathering places.

So it is no surprise that when we get to the Dolder 2 we are immediately reminded (yet again, once more validating our nostalgia for the good times we’ve had) of none other than Frederick’s Music Lounge (RIP). It is not the style of the club itself necessarily, but the obvious intent behind the style and vibe that lends to this comparison.

That merged with the only official smoking gig of the tour and the extremely convenient in theory–a little less comfortable in practice as the accommodations were accessible only through the ladies room—

play downstairs, sleep upstairs scenario and in my mind you have a particularly Fredricky recipe for success.

The natural imperative (that’s a euphemism for “I have to pee”) caused us to boldly let ourselves in through the open back door

(off the lovely patio in the lovely courtyard) and

proceeded to acquaint ourselves with the stage and digs and make our own soundcheck even though no hostly type was on the premises yet. The guys felt right at home as One Fell Swoop had played here before. As we wound it up, the gangly and adventurous promoter Tom showed up, and delighted by our gumption proceeded to host-with-the-most us.

The small but mighty crowd got what they paid for that evening, as we were encouraged to draw encore material into an entire third set. This was easy enough to do with a gracious host and audience, and enough Falken, the only hemp beer in Europe, on tap only at this very special club. The room was fun and the crowd was fun

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and afterward Andy and I ventured forth into Schaffhausen with Tom and his friend Martin (I referred to this man as “number 9” as he was the ninth customer to pay, yes I counted) to try and catch a little of Johnny Dowd’s set just over the river from us. Alas, we missed them by about 3 minutes, but we had a nice wrappin-it-up/bringin-it home-style time of conversation and were escorted through the lovely town by our hosts. Thank you, fellas.

After learning some particulars to prepare for the next day’s informed sightseeing, we parted ways with Martin and headed back “home” for the night where Andy wisely turned in directly and I stayed up at the bar with Tom and Gary the cook/Elvis impersonator (I kid you not) and 2-3 regulars there trying different cultures’, er, firewaters and trying to solve each others’ and the world’s problems. I turned in at 3, and when I got up in the dawn due to a natural imperative and went down to the ladies’ room I heard them chortling still at the bar. Funny we couldn’t hear them on the third floor.

After our sightseeing, and thank goodness the shops in Schaffhausen are mostly closed on Mondays cause it’s very pretty and pricey there,

Tom fed us our last great Euro coffees and we finished off a Tiramisu that had been partially violated the previous night. Apparently that was part of the solution to the world’s problems…