Concert Backlog II - Die Toten Hosen in Breslau

October 10, 2010 - Die Toten Hosen.

Die Toten Hosen are definitely one of my top five favorite bands. They're like the German Green Day - epic, timeless punk rockers who have been around forever and will probably keep being around forever.

Nonetheless, as they rarely tour far from Germany, my own chances to see them were nonexistent until I moved to Berlin. When they announced tour dates in Eastern Europe, I knew I had to seize this opportunity or risk missing them entirely. I bought a ticket for Breslau, in Poland. The day before the show, I dragged my ass out of bed at five in the morning and got on a bus headed east.



Arriving in Breslau, I wandered a bit and then found a drugstore to stock up on hobo supplies. I had this one chance to see them, and I'd come this far, you better believe I was making front row. Armed with tinned pears, other snacks, and cheap fleece blankets, I lurked my way to the venue. Too many people around. I bummed in a hostel lobby for a few hours and came back in the middle of the night. Home sweet concrete.

At 5 AM a Polish security guard woke me, and mercifully brought me inside the business lobby next door to let me sleep where it was warm. I speak no Polish, and he spoke no German and little English, but his genuine wish to help me could not be stopped by mere language barriers. He brewed me a mug of bitter, sludgelike coffee, and introduced me to two American Mormon missionaries working on the second floor. He then saw Die Toten Hosen's crew bus arrive and brought me out back to see it. Which is when things got really interesting.

I somehow went from the normal fan routine - watching a tourbus, exchanging "Morgen" and other chitchat with the German crew guys - to being invited INSIDE the tourbus. A first. Crew bus, not band bus. But still - I'd never been in a tourbus. My inner fangirl (okay, my inner everything) was flipping out.



I thought, okay, they're just letting me have a glimpse, they won't want me to stay, I'd better leave quickly. Not the case. Stefan the bus driver pointed me to a seat and told me to warm up while they unloaded stuff.

I chilled in the bus. Some other crew guys came through and chatted a bit auf Deutsch.

Events continued to get mindboggling. As I announced to Stefan that I should probably go back to the front of the venue and wait before more fans came, he smiled and asked, well do I just want to wait inside the venue? My stunned response - "Du verarschst mich grad, oder?!" Apparently he was not verarsching. Do I want to wait inside the venue. Avoid sitting on concrete all day, avoid the tedious drama of establishing order and relationships with tense fans who are all ready to steal my place on the barrier. I had dreamed of such a scenario, but it usually involved breaking into venues through ventilation systems and hiding in bathrooms. Nope. I was given a cushy corner booth, introduced to the rest of the crew, and brought water.



I spent the day watching the stage setup, just hanging in my corner, in comfort, with food and water and restrooms. Amazing.



I was loafing and chatting with a new crew friend, when in an understated flurry of movement, Campino and the others entered the room. My heart raced. This laid back guy in a track jacket, so close to me, could not possibly be the man whose magical voice had raised and quieted tempests of emotion in the landscapes of my mind, could not be the unreachable idol I'd watched on DVDs recorded on stages thousands of miles away from my Seattle home. But he was. He radiated charisma like a sun illuminating the dark, quiet venue.



Campino drew closer. He wandered over to my corner, said hi to the crew guy next to me, and shook my hand. "How's it going?" asked the magical voice. In a room full of Poles, Germans, and Brits, English had become the default language. I stammered, "Ganz gut!" and tried to mask my overwhelming exhilaration. Then - soundcheck.



Hearing Alles wird vorübergehen in such a setting was an incredibly emotional experience. We were just sitting around, the room mostly empty. The band calmly ran through the song, one of my favorites of theirs. So beautiful.



Things then got even crazier. While Campino chatted with the girl chilling next to me, English drummer Vom came over and asked if I was the one who had slept outside overnight. Apparently someone from the crew had told the band. I said yes. He handed me a drumhead signed by all five band members. I was in shock and thanking him profusely and coming up with inadequate statements like "You guys are the greatest!" There's only so much a fan's mind can handle. He was so sweet and unassuming. "You gotta tell us these things, that's crazy!" - as if no one had ever slept on concrete for a world famous band before.

The show.



An orgy of sweat and noise and the unique perfection that comes with finally seeing long-loved songs performed live. Insanity. They were so close. I had never dreamed that I would see them in such a setting - based on their DVDs, I had always assumed, if I ever managed to catch a show, it would be a huge affair with a lofty stage a million miles from the barrier. Not this small, packed club, Campino rampaging into the front row, his sweat mingling with ours.



After the show.

Things proceeded to get even more out of control. You couldn't make this stuff up. I had been talking to the crew all day. They knew I was studying in Berlin. The crew bus was also driving to Berlin, directly after the show - the Breslau concert had been the final stop of the tour.

They offered to take me with. Not only was this a totally unique experience for me to actually ride on a tourbus, it saved me another night wandering around without proper lodging and an entire day of cooling my heels in Breslau before my own bus would have come, Monday evening. Unbelievable.

So I was beyond grateful, and waited in the venue while the breakdown went on. I retreated into the bathroom, changed shirts, dried my hair under the blowdryers, and fixed my makeup. A fortuitous choice - the band was still wandering around, and while a British crew member found me a tour laminate backstage, I summoned my courage to thank Andi and tell him how amazingly fantastic the show was. Campino came out, and walked straight up to our little chat. He'd seen me lurking all day trying to contain my immense happiness. At no point could I have approached him myself - the awe was too strong. But somehow. He came over and started asking questions. We actually talked, like more than the "amazing show!" "Thank you!" typical band-fan talk, we talked about where I came from, what I study and then how much I love the band. We shook hands. I was trying to keep a composed veneer, at the expense of all my brain circuits. Then he decided to make my entire life, set both hands on my shoulders, and gave me the European kiss on both cheeks. My mind was an incoherent symphony of hero worship. I managed to thank him again and wave him and Andi goodbye, and then they went off.

At this point I feel like interjecting a disclaimer, because I'm aware that the whole narrative sounds more like fiction than reality. All I can say is - well, it happened. I don't even know. The course of events in this day was like something out of Almost Famous - I could literally hear Kate Hudson going "it's all happeningggg!!!" at various points throughout the experience.


Stefan the Busfahrer and I.

The crew finished packing and left the venue at 2 AM. I rode with the guys (and one girl), sat around and told jokes, and grabbed a few hours' sleep in a bunk. Crew buses are amazingly compact - the bus fit twelve stacked bunks plus lounge, bathroom, and kitchen area. They were such amazingly nice people and I'm still so grateful and baffled that they decided to take me along. I don't get it. I swear that no blowjobs were handed out. I just never thought things like this happened to normal fans, only to actual "groupies." Madness. I'll never forget this concert experience.

Tourbus at Berlin Hauptbahnhof - nearing dawn Monday morning.



Signed drumhead and tour laminate



So many beautiful memories.

Die Toten Hosen für immer!!

Concert Backlog I - Silbermond in Kamenz

September 18, 2010 - Silbermond.

The Silbermond show in Kamenz, in retrospect, had so much potential for disaster, and yet somehow everything went off with insane perfection.

I arrived at the train station of this tiny, boring German town after nightfall. I called the local taxi service. Their one taxi was somewhere outside the city limits. No problem. I looked up and down the street. Two men ambled slowly through the darkness. I inquired in German if they knew the direction of Hutbergbühne. They pointed uphill and asked what I was there for. I told them I was planning on camping, resolutely declined their offers to stay with them, and tromped off.



The occasional promo poster looming out of the shadows confirmed I was on track. I eventually arrived at the amphitheater.

Now, another might have thought, "Berg Bühne... mountain stage? That sounds cold." But not me. I was optimistically prepared to sleep in the open, up on top of this blustery amphitheater, armed with my layers of clothing and a few handwarmers. I've suffered through cold pre-concert nights before with inadequate camping supplies, but I seem to be slow in grasping the lesson. I had not spent enough time on my freezing bench to fully explore the depths of this foolishness, when two security guards arrived to save me from myself.

It is for this reason, that I love attending concerts in Germany. Two American security guards would have certainly thrown me off the premises without further ado. But German secus are... chill. And most of them feel protective towards lone females.

In this way, I found myself invited down to the stage and given coffee. Hanging out ONSTAGE. Where my idols would perform in less than 24 hours.





In true German fashion, they skipped the small talk and went straight for world politics, history, my views on about every hefty sociopolitical topic I could think of. We chatted, time passed, and eventually they invited me into their car.

YES, sure, I know how it sounds - but my brain was sounding no alarms. When you've lived and traveled a certain amount, you gather a sense of people. You can be wrong, and maybe that one mistake is a serial killer or rapist. But I've never been mistaken yet, and I don't choose to live in fear. I didn't go with the men at the train station, but I had no hesitations to join the guards in their car.

We bundled into the car behind the stage, they cranked the heat, and put some rap tunes on. We started chatting German rap, Bushido, Sido, Aggro Berlin. Eventually they offered me a blanket and kindly let me sleep in the backseat while they kept an eye on the stage equipment.

When dawn approached, I thanked them profusely and headed back to the top of the amphitheater. No mishaps, and a frigid night avoided.

With my rescuers:



With sunrise came other fans, and a long, relaxed day getting to know each other and listening to the Silbermond discography.



Barring a tense entry instigated by the constant coming and going of trucks through the line-up area, everything went perfectly smoothly, and I snagged my prime spot at center stage on the barrier.



The atmosphere was amazing - such uplifting heights of catharsis through music. The band brought the crowd to the emotional warmth and unity of Coldplay, while simultaneously bringing the rockout vibe into the same galaxy as Green Day, if not quite on the same level.

"Krieger des Lichts" live - so beautiful.



After the show, we hung around for signing with the band. I was just going to say "Vielen Dank, geiles Konzert!" or something simple, but the girls I'd been with in line were like, You have to tell her/them where you'll from! She'll cry! So I told them I was from Seattle and their music had inspired me so much, and Stefanie that she was a heroine of mine. She didn't cry, but she was so touchingly touched. I would have thought they'd heard so many similar declarations that it wouldn't move them anymore, but they showed astonishing interest and appreciation, the guys complimented my German, and it was just beautiful.



After everything, while heading back to the train station, I scaled a wall and stole a nice big promo poster for my apartment. :)



I was so happy to have been able to see them. Phenomenal concert experience. <3

Updates - Backlogged Concerts

Hello all,

In the next few entries I'll be posting a backlog of concert experiences from the past few months in Germany. These have been haphazardly posted around Facebook and various music forums, but I thought it would be nice to concentrate the content here and just have everything in one place. Cheers :)

Tokio Hotel - Tokyo Showcase

Oh god.

It might seem like I start a lot of band encounter reviews with "oh god," but that's because these things are the closest to religious catharsis that I ever manage to come. I am so messed up right now. The showcase, well, I will struggle to describe it in the coming graphs, but let me start by saying that losing yourself in the fullness of the experience has its price, the comedown is brutal. This is craving and withdrawal and sweat and brokenness and healing love and painful, tearing freedom all in one. Seeing them perform always shatters me, and then the pieces build themselves into something stronger, more clearly visioned, more dedicated to living life to the fullest, in the (generally lengthy) interims between seeing them. It is an addiction that refines the spiritual. Destroyed and exalted.



My reeling brain is trying to decide how far back to go, and in how much detail. Fast forward from the embassy (13th) to the next day (14th). I went to the venue to lurk, because lurking venues is what I do. However, it was completely unnecessary. As it so transpires, Japanese concerts customarily do not involve the kind of waiting we are used to, because - get this - tickets for standing area "general admission" are not general admission at all. They are numbered. And fans are let inside, in the order of the numbers. Like an actually functional numbering system, except based on whatever kind of luck you had when you got your ticket, rather than hardcore endurance. Thus the fans only bother showing up an hour or so beforehand.

This did not end up applying to me, because I didn't actually have a ticket, I was on a guest list, so I went in through a different entrance as the normal line was starting to go in. Nevertheless, I spent a completely useless and cold night dodging corporate security, before I learned this new cultural tidbit.

Various other non-Japanese fans showed up semi-early - three French girls, two Italians, a Swede, a Greek, a Russian, a Brazilian, two Belgians, and another American (with half-Japanese ancestry, spoke fluent Japanese. Very helpful). It was like the United Nations of Tokio Hotel. We were still very much in the minority, but I thought it was nice to have so many countries from Tokio Hotel's journey thus far represented in this triumphant concert in a new land. Other nationalities showed up later, including the crowd of young German journalism students that had been at the embassy.

So they did M&G and signing, and brought the participants outside again rather than allowing them to remain in the venue, since people won access to the various events separately from the showcase. We entered, there were already some people in the venue, presumably with media or label contacts - there was an adult couple right in front of us - but we made second row, and with the closeness of the stage, we were still much closer than I'd been at the Humanoid City shows in the first row. And happily, the Japanese audience was, as a rule, shorter. xD

Pre-show involved a loop of various of their music videos, and then a dramatized video summary of their career triumphs for the benefit of the media present. Finally the announcer introduced them, lights cut, and the normal intro of Noise began, which was our cue to completely lose our minds.



Seriously, seeing Tom storm onstage and pour all his power into that guitar, so close - it was more than worth the schemings and contests of the last two months, the money, the hours of flying, the hours of waiting... that one shock of pure energy when they're THERE and you are truly joined in this experience with them, feeling and living the music so close. It is as if the rest of your life, you stumble around blearily, half-woken up, filmed eyes and dulled mind. They are the faceful of cold water, they are the breath of oxygen so pure and intense it leaves you gasping.

It took me a good thirty seconds before I remembered that Bill was onstage.

That has nothing to do with Bill, if I'd been directly in front of him his incandescence would have blinded me to Tom. But being in front of Tom, for once, he completely eclipsed his brother for me, at least in those first moments. He had a similar effect during the incredible intro in the Humanoid City concerts, but as the stage had been further away and higher up, it wasn't quite as intense. That much power, right in front of you, is absolutely electrifying.



And the superficial? Tom looked AMAZING. His body is so lean, and when he's just melded to that guitar, it's like the most beautiful union of human being and instrument imaginable. He was smiling and giving little looks here and there and generally orchestrating his side of the crowd into transports of screaming desire like the subtle, masterful seducer he is.



Bill was completely radiant, just emanating waves of elated energy, and the entire band were just giving off such happy vibes, totally great atmosphere.



If we look at the highly dangerous drug that is Tokio Hotel live, I can definitely isolate the element that has addicted me from the start, and keeps me forever hooked, forever needing more, forever willing to pay almost anything to experience it: Bill's eyes. Not just his eyes in general, although they're lovely regardless of what they're doing - but eye contact with his eyes. It sounds like a silly and trivial thing. "Ooh Bill looked at me!" "Oh I'm totally sure he was singing to me, tralala!" It's not. It is completely irrelevant, whether there's any consciousness behind the actual experience. In fact I would assume he is so in the zone, that even when he's looking into someone's eyes, he's not really seeing - and even if he is seeing, he's definitely forgetting about two seconds later. Immaterial. While his eyes are truly locked on yours - the pure, physical sensations are the most powerful rush I've ever experienced. So dark, so intense, they suck in light and throw it back at you, they hold you completely captive.

A glance in your general direction is awesome. The most amazing thing - when it lasts long enough to recognize that yes, in this particular second, he IS seeing me. You can tell if he begins to mirror you or react to you. It's happened to me only a couple of times in all the concerts I've seen them in. Once in Atlanta, when he bent down, sang "look into my eyes" straight to me with a point-to-eyes point-to-me gesture, which I somehow had the presence of mind to mirror back, and then he smiled. And last night, during "Darkside of the Sun." He was in Tom's customary place, rocking out particularly hard, I was rocking out particularly hard, he met my eyes during "in radio, it's a riot, it's a riot," and completely mirrored whatever sidewise headbanging nodding moving thing I was doing, like some kind of biofeedback loop.



When you have that little proof that you exist, for a moment, in his eyes, the feeling of ALIVENESS is incomparable to anything else I've ever experienced. He is such a vital force, so full of life and power and beauty. It has nothing to do with fangirl delusions of mattering or having an emotional connection or any nonsense. It's only - when that force allows you in for a second, intensity is heightened, life is more beautiful, you feel braver, impossibly high, your heart beats so fiercely and strongly, enough to run and laugh and fly and conquer the world and set your every vein on fire. It's like touching the divine. It's the only form of touching the divine I know.

What else? Georg and Gustav were in top, amazing form. Again to the shallow - Georg's hair looked as beautiful as ever, just rippling and cascading in perfect smoothness, which is impressive because the humidity in Tokyo is considerable and the humidity in that concert hall even more so.



A bunch of us had brought flags from our countries, and waved them around at a few points during the show. I'd never had so much stuff I was trying to keep track of during a concert - normally I never bring bags in, but I had one of those drawstring canvas tiny little backpack things you take to soccer games, track, etc, you know what I'm talking about? - slung over my left elbow, the huge American flag draped over my arm, my camera case around my torso, and I was still wearing my leather jacket since I didn't have a barrier to dump it on. So much stuff, so much sweat. xD The flag thing was nice, I'd never brought a flag to a show before, but at this concert, it felt like the entire world of TH fans had come together in this one hall to celebrate with Japan.





Winding down. It was amazing, a very intense and THERE concert, partly because I was determined to be absolutely present and experiencing every moment, since I knew it would be short. I'm so glad and grateful that I could go and experience this - I was in withdrawal, and I had my perfect, much-craved hit, and soon I'll be in withdrawal again xD - but the moments in which I can see them truly are some of the highest, most beautiful moments of my life. I'll never forget last night.









Thank you guys for also being here to share the experience and be united in this amazing moment. I'm so glad to be a part of this fandom, so glad to love this band, so proud of what they have accomplished, and so looking forward to everything they will accomplish next.

Tokio Hotel in Tokyo - Embassy

Oh god.

I really need to say this - always take chances. It has never let me down. I didn't really believe the lookalike contest would get me into the showcase, and I didn't really believe going to stand in front of an embassy in the rain would accomplish anything either. But you have to try things anyway, and more often than not, life rewards you.



I had arrived in Tokyo early on December 12th, after almost 24 straight hours of travel, and headed straight to my hotel. It was such a strange feeling of familiarity - memories were washing over me from my time in the city three years ago. I could feel the thoughts of my seventeen year old self in my surroundings, how I felt then, how I couldn't imagine myself and my life now, like I could almost reach out and touch that other person.



After checking in, I explored the city a little, visited the venue, and then returned to my hotel. A sequence of events then began to fall into place, the dominoes of my long-guarded dreams striking in perfect timing.

Things proceeded as follows:

1. The wonderful @Mari64Mari shares the time and address of the embassy reception with me.

2. I think to myself, why not go? Maybe they'll sign as they go in, maybe not, either way you might as well not waste the chance.

3. I head over and walk up to the gate.

4. The guard asks if I'm here for Tokio Hotel. I affirm. He asks for my passport.

At this point I should explain that one of my handful of useful skills is the ability to look like I belong in places I really don't. I learned this to my chagrin at another TH show - upon walking up to the House of Blues store in Orlando with bags over my shoulder and inquiring where the venue entrance was, the woman led me over and was hastily unlocking the doors for me when I idiotically informed her I was just a fan. She goes, Oh! I thought you worked for the band! Facepalm supreme.

Since then I have tried to just roll with these things when they happen, although it's always nervewracking. I was very careful not to claim anything or lie about anything. I just stood there, tried to look disinterested, and let things sort themselves out.

5. Upon handing him my passport, he goes to try to find my name on his access list. He can't find it. He goes, oh let me check the other list. I'm just standing there chilling. He finds the other list. Other people are arriving and going in. All of a sudden they find my name on some list and apologize for the wait. This is news to me. In we go.

6. I meet other Japanese fans and see other Japanese contestants from the lookalike contest. Maybe I'm magically in the right place after all. A German journalist comes and interviews fans, asking questions that tend to presume fans only care about the band's looks.



7. We're herded into the main room where the press conference/reception is about to take place. We take seats.



8. The band shows up. My heart stops and the Japanese fans start squealing adorably. In case we haven't noticed, that's a BANDOLIER slung around Bill's torso, and he looks beyond stunning. His face is almost painful to look at, it's so beautiful.



9. The band answer questions from fans and press, pose with the ambassador, then go into the room next door for private interviews. We mill out into the foyer. Natalie appears and then disappears (let's just be real, that woman is GORGEOUS, seriously.) We mill for quite some time. Bill's bodyguard comes out, crosses the room, and comes back. I catch his eye as he passes, and sidle over towards the closed doors where he's standing. I ask him quietly, "Sag mal, sind sie sehr glücklich darüber - dass sie endlich hier sind?" (Say, are they really happy, that they're finally here?) He smiles and says something like "Natürlich, ja..." (Naturally, yes.)



10. I idle around on the edge of the crowd nearest the bodyguard. He's talking to a German embassy guy in a suit who I'd talked to earlier. All of a sudden the two notice that I'm holding my passport and a sharpie, and suit guy is like, "Dein Pass?!?" I say, "Ich dachte, wenn sie mal rauskommen..." (I thought, if they come out...) The two immediately try to dissuade me, they're like "Nein, kriegste ganz viel Ärger..." (No, you'll have a lot of problems...) "Mit den Behörden?" (With the authorities?) "Ja, beim Flughafen..." (Yes, at the airport...) We chat a little more and I retreat again. No risk, no reward. Them signing my passport would be a perfect symbol of all the travel and life experiences I've had because of them. If the airports don't like it I'll get a new passport.



11. I wander to the other side of the room and spot the German journalist who came off as prejudiced earlier. I catch his eye and ask, "Na, wie ist dein Interview gelaufen?" (Well, how'd your interview go?) And that was the starting point for an amazing chat that revealed he'd been startled and impressed by how "zugänglich" (accessible), polite and nice the boys were, then we talked about his career, my studies and where I was from, how the music had changed my life, how they were still stuck with this teenie band image in Germany, but had grown into adults, how it's always mind-boggling to have to juggle languages (for him as a German journalist to do an interview in English with Japanese politicians, or for me as a native English speaker to switch on and off between German and Japanese), and various other things. He ends up being so incredibly nice and cool, and has obviously changed his mind somewhat about the band. One of the high points of the experience. We swap contact info, shake hands, and I go back to the fans.

12. They bring the fans back into the press conference room, the band enters, and it becomes clear this is going to be, essentially, a full-fledged meet and greet. We line up and arrange ourselves. The band starts signing. They're taking more time than they sometimes do, Bill asking questions to clarify what people want signed, remarking on hand-made T-shirts, etc. I'm trying to do these mental exercises for relaxation and composure that I learned from a friend into naturopathic medicine. Then he's in front of me and I just go for it, like he's not the center of my universe, my idol, the person I worship more than anything and barely trust myself to exist in front of. "Weißt du, eure Musik hat mein Leben verändert - jetzt studiere ich Deutsch in Berlin, wegen euch. Ihr seid wirklich großartig..." (You know, your (plural) music changed my life - I'm studying German in Berlin now, because of you guys. You're really amazing..." He looks me in the eyes - "Oh, vielen Dank!" Brief but amazing. The one thing - you can't fully absorb his glory and act normal at the same time. I was going for acting normal, which means, his unspeakably beautiful eyes were locked with mine, but my brain's processing power was tied up keeping my heart going and my mouth speaking in a foreign language, and couldn't really just melt on the spot and stare and appreciate them like instinct dictates.



13. They gather us into groups and start doing group pictures with the band. They take three. As we're leaving, many fans are shaking Bill's hand, and I think about it, but I'm kinda like (a) at this point he doesn't have a choice, he's doing it for everyone who asks, and out of respect, let's not, and (b) I can't go and fulfill all my TH-related dreams in one day, otherwise I'll be really depressed and have to go climb Everest or something, so let's stack "handshake" on the list of things to maybe happen in the future. I settle on smiling and saying "bis Mittwoch!" (till Wednesday!) as I leave, and he says "Bis dann!" (till then!) back.



14. I mill with fans and freak out together. They see my tattoo, recognize me from the contest, and get excited and take some pictures of it. We chat in broken Japanese and broken English. Eventually we leave the embassy and there are a group of European fans outside the gate, including two girls I know through Facebook. I chat with them a bit, then take a taxi back. To top everything off, the taxi driver gets incredibly lost, despite the fact that I've handed him the hotel's address in Japanese and a map to the place, and decides upon finally arriving to make the taxi ride free.

I am totally exuberant but drained. So much emotion, so much, I am speechless. I cannot believe I finally was able to say those words to him. I don't even know, it's going to take time to absorb.

Signed passport, on the page about the cause of freedom being the cause of humankind, the birthright of humanity. I thought it was fitting. <3





For videos of the press conference, check out my vids here and here or an HD edited version here.

Updates - Tokio Hotel in Tokyo

I'm back in Berlin and exhilarated after my trip to Tokyo to see Tokio Hotel's first performance in the city. I'm a bit behind on updating the blog, but I'll be posting now my reviews from the embassy (December 13) and the showcase (December 15) that have been previously posted elsewhere. Cheers + Happy New Year!