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spanish hotels are echoey - mark kozelek with petra haden lyrics

room 104, hotel grande, bilbao, underneath my room sounds like bowling b*lls rolling around
sounds like dim sum trays being pushed around
and i’m eating almendras at 6:30 am from a vending machine i found
all these sounds, all these sounds, i just can’t block out the sound

spain just set the clock back an hour but it’s yesterday’s time on tv
went to the breakfast area at what i thought was 7:30
the desk guy said, “sir, it is now 6:30”
i said, “i know, but my stomach is hungry”
he said, “sir, breakfast is at 8:30”

i was sleeping deep until these mysterious sounds woke me
i’ve been exploring and there’s a gymnasium down the hall from me
the maids closets are on the same floor as me
and underneath me, it’s just the hotel lobby as far as i can see

and spanish hotels are so echoey
and spanish hotels are so echoey
and spanish hotels are so echoey
and spanish hotels are so, so echoey

i was in cadíz once playing my guitar in my room feeling so lonely
as i was checking out, a couple walked up to me and said
“ah, you’re the guitar player, that sounded so beautiful”
i said, “where’s your room?”
they said, “siete floors above you”
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so, so echoey

last night was our last concert and festival, the rooms were like airplane hangers
the sound was bouncing around the room, boomeranging
i was telling jokes that were not landing, the references and narratives were completely lost on them
i wasn’t shooting fish in a barrel like when i’m in philly, or new york, or boston

but it doesn’t matter, i’ll tell you a secret if you’d like to know, honey
bands don’t play festivals for the fun of it, we do it for the money
we keep our expectations low, but there was a man there who seemed to understand me
it was mr. malkmus, he said, “wow, i love it how you just let it all flow out of you
and how you cleverly dropped kurt vile’s name, and how you pointed out how kurt left the band in your own very mark kozelek*y way
and how you were going on and on and on about neil cassady
i said, “thanks so much for the kind words to you, but i think you mean john fante”
he said, “it was really just so you and it was so funny”
and ezequiel said, “i also loved the song about 1983”
he said, “it got lost in translation with the spaniards”
but he said, “the song makes so much since to me”
he went on to say the song is so powerful and poignant
and then he told me about his recently broken up relationship
and he told me about the failing health of his 83 year old mother
i talked about my 85 year old father who’s on life alert and some sadness regarding the others
we talked about being middle*aged and how much it hurts to see our aging fathers and mothers
“but hey,” i said, “you’re my friend, and i’m yours, and friends are important, we’ve got each other.”
and two kids walked up to me and asked me a question
they asked, “mark, what would you recommend to two kids suffering with depression?”
i dropped my bag and i stopped and i talked to them
i asked their ages, they said, “20 and 21”
i said, “i’m not a poster*boy for happiness, but here’s what i recommend
surround yourselves with those you love, stay away from alcohol and whatever this oxy sh*t is and other drugs
stay off the internet, it is miasmic, online, idle chatter, nonsense
do not engage in arguments with morons and idiots
spend your time productively, focus on what matters
settle your issues with your friends in face*to*face settings
pursue art, pursue your dreams, do not let anyone stop you
do not bond with people over things that, deep down, are not you”

“so you, be your own woman, and you, be your own man
i was your age too, it is a scary thing to leave home and be on your own
and not knowing exactly what road to get on
i had lots of fear and depression when i was your age too
but i found something that i believed in, and though i had no believers
i threw myself into the ocean of art with no life preserver”
okay, i admit, i stole that last line from henry miller

i said, “you’re wonderful people, so believe in yourselves
it’s an awkward time, i know, but have faith that you will find yourselves
and eat right, and don’t drink coca cola, drink lots of water”
i said, “speaking of health, i gotta join some friends for dinner
but it’s been nice talking to you”
then we watched the last 10 minutes of steven malkmus
we were all humbled because, somehow, he sounded so much better than the rest of us
i told him, “i like your loose noose, i like how you play your guitar without a strap”
afterwards we came back to the hotel room and we had some laughs

people asked me how he knew me
he said, “red house painters, duh”
stephen is sharp, he has encyclopedic knowledge of music art
it was late, i said, “hey, i gotta go upstairs and get some sleep”
then i shook some hands and i shared some hugs

as i was walking to the elevator i saw josé and asked, “how was your show?”
he said, “it went great!”
i said, “well, not for all of us, i was gonna ask you if you wanted to come join us at the table so we could all commiserate it”
he said, “mark, i’d love to join you, but i have to check in on my wife and child, it’s late”
i said, “wow, how old are you?”
and he said, “40”
i said, “man, i believe the first time we met was in gothenburg and you were just a teen
and here we are now, after all these years, living our lifelong dream”
i said, “it’s nice to run into you from time to time at these music festivals, josé”
he said, “agreed, it was a pleasure to see you mark, here in bilbao, spain”

i came back to my room and my mind was racing in the dark
i went to bed thinking about pavement in the 90s
thinking about mojave 3 in the 90s
thinking of meeting josé gonzález in the 90s
thinking of ezequiel and paths in the 90s
and here we are, all still in business and surviving

and as i’m writing this, my stomach won’t stop growling
i’ve got the day off tomorrow, so for me, no complaining
petra just reached out and asked if i could send her some words
i said, “i’m pretty wiped out right now but here are some for whatever they’re worth
there’s some words i wrote here in bilbao, spain on a few hours of sleep
on a few hours of sleep, but it’s what’s in my heart and what’s in my soul
and what’s racing around my brain”

i’m looking forward to this day alone tomorrow and some downtime
no soundcheck, no ironing, no setlist, and no show
and the rain has just started pouring on this dark bask country morning
and below me, the bowling b*lls started rolling
and through the echoey walls, i hear the water running
and on 10*minutes, the breakfast room will be ready
i’ll get a chance to see the breakfast room finally
i can’t fall asleep when i’m this hungry
throw on some slippers and jeans and my shirt that smells like an ashtray
walk down to the breakfast room, have some jamon serrano and black tea
spoons, forks, knives, plates, pots, pans, chafing dishes, glasses, teacups, dish caddies
i just figured out where the noise was coming from below me

went back to bed thinking about 20 years ago when a woman xábia, spain approached me and said, “mark, i liked your show”
we went back to my room and the bed was rickety
we were conscious of the neighbors, but still the bed was squeaky and creaky
the front desk guy knocked and said, “sir, we are getting complaints”
i said, “we were doing what lovers naturally do so what is your point?”
he said, “sir, you must understand, the floors are tile and these sounds carry easily”
i said, “so put some rugs on the floor so lovers can be lovely”
i said, “it’s not my fault that spanish hotels are so echoey”

spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so, so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so echoey
spanish hotels are so, so echoey

- mark kozelek with petra haden lyrics

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