Blake Cateris

New blog post coming soon ??/??/??

Do main character shit. - 11/7/23

Let me begin this entry with a slight throwback to my first blog post. I received a lot of feedback about it and how crazy the experience was, I was even told that there was no need to hide the fact that the company culprit was Lufthansa as it isn't a fictitious story, but an actual recount of my experience with them. So there you go, if you live under a rock and couldn't tell, German Air was Lufthansa all along.

But the craziest thing is that I sincerely doubt this is the craziest thing that has ever happened to “customers” - as the captain on a British Airways flight once affectionately referred to his passengers recently. Not that he’s wrong, but the lack of humanity in his outlook was less than appealing.
Upon landing at Heathrow at the beginning of the tour, a bag came out just before mine with all it’s locks broken and zips undone with clothes spewing out of it from every angle, the girl was absolutely ropable and fair play to her!
In another situation a few weeks ago, a performer friend was relocating back to London with all her equipment and props only for her custom-made juggling rings (not easily replaceable) and a custom-made manakin (the entire premise for one of her routines worth $2500) had just disappeared off the face of the planet with zero communication from the airline, airport or transport company. The only two things missing were pieces of equipment that directly halted her ability to earn a living. Two things from inside her bag and not the whole bag, meaning it was opened and she was robbed…
Two friends recently jet-set off to Europe only to have none of their luggage arrive with them, a week later a package meets up with them and it only contains one person’s baggage and nothing else with no explanation.
There are more, like that viral video of the guitarist filming his guitar and equipment being abusively thrown around on the tarmac before being put on the plane, but you get the point…
My blood is beginning to simmer just thinking of how helpless we are in these situations and how little is done or can be done to stop them.

I digress! To move onto less negative dwellings of thought, I am here to gloss over a few things worthy of delving into from the past few months. (I will try very hard to not make future blogs so lengthy).

The 14 date tour of the UK was prodigious, Ed and I put a lot of effort into preparation so that we barely had to think about admin once we stepped onto the plane, the hard work was done. For us, by US. Many new friends and memories were made and thanks to the miracle of the internet, we are able to stay in contact with all of these inspiring people at the drop of a hat.
Ed Barnes, I really couldn’t have done it without you so, thank you for your friendship and your patience as I relearned how to drive a manual through the cities and countryside of the UK.

As I write this, I have just wrapped up an epic 6 days playing 9 shows around Sydney & The Blue Mountains in which felt remarkably more intense than any of the rigours of the recent UK run. A regular feat in my occupation is feeling like you’re perpetually on tour with weekends being primetime for work - playing anywhere from 4-9 gigs a week, I fit about 350 odd performances into the last financial year.
It’s been a crash course in learning how to look after my voice so I actually have one the next day, how much (if any) I should drink and how long I’m spending shouting at people in a bar - all the boring things that even most singers don’t pay attention to until their first trip to the ENT because of nodules.
But it’s not all work and strict self-care, there’s a line that slowly becomes less blurry as you learn more and more about your body and voice which affords you to know how far you can push the boat out whilst knowing you have a safe return just to do it all again in a few hours. The banter between crowd and performer can be a thing of beauty at times, or the kind words from strangers about being the perfect accompaniment for their date night, wing-manning people into one-night stands, gorgeous old couples in their 70’s that swing dance in front of you to Van Morrison and Elvis, invitations to post-show swingers parties, or my seeming ability to resonate with some of the rougher venues around town by soothing punters with the gentle vibrations of Australia’s golden era of pub rock classics. This side of the music industry plays a big part in my life and has taught countless valuable lessons that I carry over into my songwriting life.

In my early twenties as I made the transition from a ‘day job’ to the high-risk endeavour of a full time life in the music industry, I would tell myself often “if you want something bad enough, you’ll find a way to get it”. As someone who has their hands in both sides, (if I have to capitulate and acknowledge that there are sides…) the songwriter life and the cover artist life, I was unfortunately met with condescension from both parties: “oh you write your own songs? That’s cute, good luck with that” or “oh you play covers? Good for you…” as if one path was right and the other was wrong. I was too often met with comments like “you’re part of the problem”. Problem?? A very toxic mentality right there, I had no idea you had to pick a side in all this?
I enjoy what I do and would be deeply unhappy if I hadn’t taken the road less travelled by. Even by playing covers, I’m well aware that the success rate for a sustainable career is extremely low and I feel blessed to have made something of it so far as an artist and furthermore, to not feel merely like 'The man at the piano' as Bukowski woundingly puts it but to feel fulfilled and grateful for my life, my love of music and my freedom to do so.
And for this, thank you to all the businesses & agents, people and loving husbands looking to spoil their wives for their birthdays that believed that I was worth something and hired me through it all so far. Equally too, I apologise to all the employees that have heard my shuffled up song list a few too many times!

Alas, I recently read in Paul Coelho's ‘The Alchemist’; “every blessing ignored becomes a curse” and this gift of tunnel vision can often come at a price. I sacrificed a lot, including the safety, security and financial stability of other more well-worn paths, to achieve this goal of earning a living from music despite ‘doubt’ building a fence around it and dressing it up as “just a pipe dream”. Living hand-to-mouth for many years, I persevered and the longer I did so, the more clear it became of what that success was going to look like.
Forever attempting to establish a healthy work/life balance is something I even have to work on with a therapist. And losing focus of the bigger picture in turn for the carrot dangled in front of me has become a recurring trend in my life.
Nothing fills me with greater pride, gives be a greater sense of fulfilment and purpose than doing main character shit with this one fickle and fleeting fanfare of an existence - to make a genuine connection with people either through conversation or song. Consumed by my pursuit of the right to stamp “Performing Artist” on my tax return, it’s funny how life can surreptitiously guide you down a path you never expected to take when you took that first step but here I am, a full-time musician.
Damn. Achievement unlocked.

Next on the agenda is my own story - and if there is any possibility of me cultivating that into a sustainable way of life for myself other than just the luxury I am afforded thanks to my work as a travelling jukebox, I will take it.
To find a way to balance my work, experiencing the genuine human connection on offer every single second of the day and carving a creative and fulfilling path out of every obstacle and opportunity is the new goal.

Things to look forward to:
- I have a book on the way! It consists of little bite-sized braindumps and pieces of poetry that will stimulate imagination and conversation - judging from the feedback so far, I should be more proud of it than I’m currently allowing myself to be, which is very encouraging.
- I have a handful of song ideas being fleshed out, I am really happy and inspired by the words I’ve been working on and slowly bringing them to life.
- I have an EP to fully release sometime this year (date TBA) as well as something amazing that was recorded whilst in the UK to show the world.

As I reread what I wrote last night at 7:30am on a Tuesday morning with a coffee, making slight edits here and there, I think to myself that I am so damn grateful for what I have done with all the strengths and flaws given to me and the life I have been afforded to live thanks to them.

Remember: the best time to plant a tree was ten years ago, the second best time is right now.
Be kind to yourself, do main character shit, and, if you want something bad enough, you’ll find a way to get it.

- Blake

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That time a German airline lost my guitar on tour - 5/5/23

After an German airline (let's graciously refer to them as German Air from now on) delayed my connecting train to Cologne three times leading up to the flight, I was afforded the opportunity to sleep alongside the homeless overnight at the Airail terminal. The following morning only one of my two pieces of luggage show up and it takes them two hours to realise they’ve left my guitar in London. The lady at Airail Terminal was a fellow Greek, recognised my surname and went into Greek mother mode going turbo on the phone calls. Born in Greece, moves to Germany, speaks English on top of Greek & German and is on the case - what a bloody legend. Still, the Hellenic hellfire spat over the phone where I’m only understanding every 5th word of Greek-accented German is not enough to get a straight answer and she tells me I have to go to the unclaimed bag office in gate C of the arrivals terminal and then in a clear as mud attempt, she gives me directions on a piece of paper as to how to get there. More walking! Great. It feels like a kilometre away but after 20 minutes of disorientation I find it and get let in.

I explain my situation, old mate at the desk makes a call in German, 5 minutes later goes “we have no guitars but here, you are welcome to have a look in the room for it”. Right… I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. I walk in and there are columns upon rows upon columns of unclaimed baggage. What seems like 200 bags in this room and not one a guitar case, let alone my guitar case.
I walk out and sheepishly ask where my guitar is and they reply “if it’s not there then it’s not there”.
Profound. Thanks mate.

Then as I’m leaving one person suggests going to German Air's baggage tracing in the carousel section, I will need to buzz at an intercom to get clearance to re-enter. Sounds fancy.
I walk all the way back to gate A (where I landed) and find the intercom where you have to buzz for entry, I get let in and walk through to some weird room where the first door shuts behind you before the second opens in front and it eerily feels like an airlock scenario where I’m about to be shot out into the suffocating vacuum of space. If only. But get this, the next door is stuck and scores of passengers are building up outside behind me. I call intercom to alert them to the problem and they tell me someone will be down in a few seconds to fix it. I’m nervous about how much of my time is being wasted chasing my guitar as I’m only in the country for a few days.
No joke, 28 minutes later (because I’m counting), some guy shows up and fixes it and I’m finally through allowing the amounting crowd to all get through via the same process. (But I’m in too much of a rush to look back to see if they had the same experience).
After I fill out a lost baggage form, they promise my guitar will be put on the next flight to Frankfurt that will be landing in 3 hours... Cool, so I’m going to miss my train nach Köln. That’s ok, I can handle this. Not the end of the world, at least we have established where my guitar is.

Three gruelling hours of pure boredom pass - keep in mind I’ve finished my book on Jim Carrol; a dark insight into the bi-curious sexploits and dope-fuelled descent of a 13 year old boy in 1960's NYC - a very light read if you’re interested. I’m too stressed to work on any words whatsoever and I don’t have an EU charger yet so my ageing phone’s battery life is more valuable than a peaceful night’s sleep in the life of the father of a feline.
Back to the saga…

Heathrow flight has landed, I mull about frantically drifting between the carousel & the two oversize bag drops (on the other side of the gate to each other…) I watch passengers collect their bags for two whole hours before finally calling it and finding Bag Tracing again.
I ask what gives (albeit more politely than that, my sanity and guitar are at their mercy), they say there is no sight of the guitar getting on the plane from London and I need to fill in a SECOND lost baggage form… “but you just told me it was going to be on the flight? Meaning my guitar didn’t make it onto your London to Frankfurt flights twice in a row?”
“Yes that’s correct”
“Well can you tell me why?”
“We are not sure.” They replied frankly.
“Righto”.

Just as I’m about hit pen to paper they get the call and as it goes, my guitar was checked in three minutes ago and is heading up to the Airail terminal now. So it WAS on the flight. What the fuck kind of airline is being run here??
I’m too excited to complain about the fact that I requested it be sent here to Bag Tracing and that they promised they would make sure it was sent to the baggage claim so I could physically pick it up myself - weird flex that your airline’s communication is such a mess but ok we’ve done it! Everything’s gonna be alright!
I race up there and eagerly await. Bag after bag after bag is dropped for people’s connecting trains and no sign of my guitar, I question the Airail staff, they make a call and say it should be another 30 mins… ‘what the!? Ok fine, but it’s coming so we’re good’.

30 minutes pass and I tell them to get on the phone again. Surprise! It hasn’t come through and they’re not sure where exactly in the airport it could be but they insist it’s definitely here, by this time, it’s 4pm and I’ve been at the airport for 19 fucking hours… I’m starting to think I will never see my guitar again.
My pride and joy, the beautiful piece of Australian wood that I’ve channeled thousands of hours of music through, that I love dearly and the entire reason I’m still playing music and probably also the reason I haven’t topped myself. Just… gone…
Disappeared off the face of the planet thanks to the incompetence of German Air.

At this point, I feel like Tom Hanks in The Terminal and but I decide against having a shave in the bathrooms because there are too many people coming in and out.
I start to get pushy, but not too pushy. I just make sure I force the issue: how can you, German Air employees, not have a direct line of contact with German Air bag tracing to sort this out, how come I have to keep going down to talk to them? How the fuck did this guitar not make it upstairs (literally just an elevator up for baggage employees) to the Airail terminal??? How have you been thinking it’s coming for 90 minutes and not have any idea where it is?
The pin drops.

They look at me with the kind of ‘how do we break this to you’ look and go “oh we are not with German Air, we are with Frankfurt Airport, we are separate entities and cannot call German Air bag drop down stairs, you have to go back down if you want to talk to them”. I shit you not, these guys have just been calling their mates down in the unclaimed baggage transfers and not actually making any contact with German Air. This. Whole. Time.
Jesus H Christ… what a nice piece of information to withhold for 19 hours after first talking to them. With German Air signs all over the Airail terminal and on the front of the desk that they’re sitting at ensuring my German Air baggage will be with me in time for my train to Cologne in the morning.
My blood is starting to boil and the stress of broken sleep from test evacuation alarm bells sounding every hour on the hour between midnight and 5am, being kicked awake by airport security who mistook me for a homeless person merely seeking shelter from the cold & the thought of losing a big piece of my identity and the cracks in my patience and composure are starting to show.

I’m told to go back down, through the airlock doors and speak to Bag Tracing again, you’re fucking kidding me. By now I know this airport better than Sydney’s where I was born and raised and have taken a plethora of domestic & international excursions for business or pleasure. I cop the re-entry to baggage claim and I get stuck between the doors AGAIN and crack. I throw my passport, boarding pass and baggage ID’s as hard as I can at the wall, and scream “FUCK!” and for a split second, 5 years of voice training go out the window as what feels like a hundred needles begin to pierce my larynx - think the scene from 50/50 where Joseph Gordon Levitt loses his shit - My arm hurt afterwards too, I forget that I probably haven’t used any of those muscles since I stopped playing cricket 14 years ago.
Then I realise the man on the other end still had the intercom on and goes “uhhh, we will be with you as soon as possible. Please be calm.”
Oops.

Lucky this time they were literally there as soon as possible, it only took three minutes. So I get over to the German Air bag tracing and lo and behold, there’s a change of the guard and I have to completely retell the entire story, I’m about to ask them to just send it to my home address in Australia and just as I say that, the guy on shift finds my guitar in the system and says it’s on the way to Cologne Airport via Munich.
Umm, WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK? MUNICH???? THEN COLOGNE AIRPORT? I’m not going to EITHER of those places! My ticket to Cologne is a train ticket to their central train station (inside the city) Cologne airport is shared with the city of Bonn and is therefore outside the city and a 1 Hour return trip on train. What the Cunt!?
“COLOGNE? WHY IS IT GOING TO COLO…” I yell and cut myself off and apologise. This guy has nothing to do with it I remind myself. “I’m sorry I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at German Air.”
He graciously and appreciatively accepts my apology and insists my guitar is safe and writes down all the necessary details for reconvening with my guitar. The plane lands at Cologne Airport at 10:55pm via Munich. It’s now 5pm and I decide it’s best to head to Cologne to finally meet with my family friend that I’m staying with who agrees, through a three part split of being amused, outraged and unsurprised sentiment for German Air, to come with me and help me retrieve my guitar later tonight.
Beauty. Light at the end of the tunnel.

I fly down the tracks on the Frankfurt nach Köln express, known as the ICE, at 250kmph. The fastest I’ve ever moved on the ground. Pretty damn cool.
Considering how damn big Australia is, how we haven’t done something similar baffles me.
I’m picked up from Köln Hauptbahnhof an hour later by my friend and we walk the beautiful streets of Cologne back to his place, picking up a .5L bottle of Reisdorff Kölsch for $2.50AU on the way for the walk known as a “Wegbier” and I’m swiftly reminded of why I love this country.

But the fat lady has only hummed a few bars yet…
Later, we arrive at Cologne/Bonn Airport at 11pm, a little after the plane lands but that’s cool, bags always take forever to get from plane to carousel. We make it inside and find the bag tracing for the airport, a dank, stuffy little room with bright fluorescent lights (the ones that are just so conducive to low stress and good creativity), we are greeted by a man that helps us with our request and tells us to walk through the door to baggage claim and that the guitar was on the flight and will be on the carousel. I don’t believe it, they said we’ve never make it!
We eagerly walk through and wait. Not even 5 minutes later a representative comes out to find us and tells us that unfortunately the guitar was not put on the 2nd leg of the flight and is currently still sitting in Munich.

I stand there shattered.
Once again German Air have lied to me and somehow managed to fuck up an otherwise seamless and everyday responsibility for an airline. If I had hair, I’d be pulling it out.
“This guitar is going to see more of Germany than I am!” I thought. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it gets treated to a trip to Spain at this stage, great weather. It must be nice.
What the fuck. We go back into the whimsical and inspiring bag tracing room and request that the guitar be sent to my home address in Sydney, Australia. The lady helping us seems to ditch her stern and somewhat reserved nature and excitedly jumps to help “oh yes, we can absolutely do that for you, please write your home address here and I will make sure it is couriered to your doorstep”. I’m cautiously optimistic but have no option but to hope and pray it makes it there in one piece. A hollow piece of wood, used and abused all over Germany by baggage handlers, I gotta be honest, I’m really not liking my odds of getting a functioning guitar back from them.
My friend steps in to ask for a refund on my flight to compensate for the “inconvenience” and loss of limited time on my holiday. She looks shocked and even the colleague next to her stops what he’s doing and looks at us like we’ve insulted his mother, not an unreasonable request if you ask me…
“Oh we are not with German Air, we just organise their baggage issues”
“But the sign right here on the front of your desk says ‘German Air’”
“Sorry but you must talk with the airline about such an issue.”
Righto… convenient system you’ve got here mate.

The two days later at 6am I get woken up by a Sydney number. “Hey this is Dnata calling from the our office at Sydney Airport, just letting you know that we received your baggage from German Air and it’s here ready to be picked up”.
Mixed emotions right now, combined with my also struggling to comprehend the whacked out dream I was having.
So my guitar is safe… -ish. But not at my house.
“Oh amazing! Are you able to send it to my home address, I can provide it if you didn’t receive it from German Air.”
“Sorry but once it arrives at this office, no one but yourself or a family member with written consent can move it from this office”
“I asked German Air to send it to my home address and they promised me they would” to be fair, wtf is a ‘promise’ from these guys at this stage?
“Oh sorry, they specifically sent it here and unfortunately it can’t be couriered to you now.”
Unbelievable. But also not.
“Oh ok well I’m actually in Germany right now and I needed it sent home because they really messed me around and never got my guitar to me”
“Oh you’re in Germany? Do you want us to send it over to you?”
“NO! No no no no no, please do not let it leave Sydney!”
My heart just dropped through the floor, I’m well and truly awake now.
“I will get my mum to pick it up as she lives in Sydney” I chuckle, “definitely do not send it back here”.

Moral of the story, get a GPS tracker for your baggage and learn to speak German.
And if you ever lose anything at Frankfurt Airport, message me and I’ll be able to direct you.