Postcard From The 'Dam

I used to smoke my fair share of marijuana.

I don’t anymore… but that’s not because I have anything against it.

In fact, last weekend I got higher than the Himalayas for the first time in years.

But this wasn’t from puffin’ on any sort of kush bud… nor from one of those modern-day, sugar-coated gummies.

This buzz was brought to you by the Godfather of ganja himself, Willie Nelson — in the form of one of his cutely canned THC seltzers.

Which, moments before sipping on, I had no idea even existed.

Oh how times have changed, my friends.

From having to show up at some shady friend’s apartment to buy Mexican dirt weed on the down-low… then strategically stuffing a ziplock baggie down the front of your pants just to get it back to your place…

(Or was that just me?)

Then, once you got home — blinds drawn, doors locked — there was still work to be done.

Break it all apart.

De-stick.
De-seed.

Grind it.

All to then meticulously roll it into one of the world’s thinnest, most temperamental sheets of paper.

But today?

All you gotta do is reach into the freakin’ fridge and crack open a can like it’s Topo Chico Tuesday.

Welcome to gettin’ high in 2026.

All that to say…

Last weekend, while sippin’ on — and slowly startin’ to feel — Uncle Willie’s seltzer, a favorite song of mine popped up on shuffle.

I hadn’t heard the song — or the band — in quite some time, but the moment that first lick kicked in…

Just like that, I was back across the pond — alone… in one of the world’s most infamously mischievous cities:

The ‘Dam.

Throughout my travels, I’ve been to the Netherlands a half dozen times.

And a few years back, I spent a month in Amsterdam — where I made a handful of friends from all around the world.

Mind you, this was well before the legalization, and much more widely “accepted” mindset around pot and medicinal marijuana.

Consequently, though the capital city offers so much more than its infamous Red Light District and lenient drug laws… in those days, Amsterdam was a magnet for young, international thrill-seekers.

And at the time — that was me.

It was also Kris… a cool British dude I befriended in the hostel I’d been staying at.

And when I say cool, I bloody mean it.

With piercing blue eyes, a long-ass ponytail, and the thickest of Southeast London accents, Kris wore bellbottom jeans and a caramel-brown corduroy blazer everywhere he went.

Though his demeanor was warm and easygoing, it didn’t take long for me to realize this cat was also incredibly street-savvy.

He and I hit it off immediately.

We ended up spending significant chunks of time together in “The ’Dam,” as he jokingly referred to the city — shooting pool, riding bikes, and ducking in and out of dive bars and tucked-away speakeasies.

As it often goes when you make a connection like that while traveling solo, Kris and I quickly became brothers-in-arms.

On a handful of evenings, at one of the local bars or speakeasies, he and I found ourselves in deep, vulnerable conversations about life back home.

I likely couldn’t have said this at the time… but looking back, Kris and I were two guarded, yet sensitive young men — hungry for loyalty and connection from another man.

And — albeit for a short, one-month window — we provided exactly that for one another.

One dark and rainy evening, Kris and I were sat inside a dimly lit speakeasy… nursing a few beers and rolling our own spliffs (not breaking any of the local laws, obviously).

I guess at that point, the topic of music hadn’t really come up between the two of us.

But as soon as it did, Kris went charging up to the bar to snag a couple of crisp, unused Heineken coasters.

I motioned a scribble towards the bartender and she instantly understood the charade — quickly tossing over a couple of blue-inked pens.

We spent the next half hour filling out the backsides of those coasters… listing the names of bands and musicians we wanted each other to check out.

The last on his list for me was an English group I’d never heard of — and boy oh boy, what a gift that’s turned out to be.

I’ll go out on a limb here and declare Gomez as one of the most criminally underrated bands of all time.

Which, for the purpose of this story, if you’ve never heard of them… good.

I’d love to be the one to formally introduce you.

Their music has a gritty, blues-soaked indie rock sound — layered with multiple voices and raw, slightly off-timed instrumentation.

It all comes together just unpolished enough to make it clear they care more about the heart & soul of the music… than perfection.

Gomez has been — and always will be — part of the secret sauce to my life on the road.

I’ve got a few of their albums sprinkled throughout various playlists — with a handful of songs, in particular, forever linked to crowded bus rides through Latin America, overnight train rides across Southeast Asia, and all-day long hikes way up in the Himalayas.

That’s the beauty of music, right?

It forever ties you to places and people — no matter how far you’ve gone… or how long it’s been.

I haven’t seen or spoken to Kris in well over a decade now.

But thanks to a couple of traveling young men who were once willing to shed their armor and share vulnerable pieces of themselves — along with their love of music…

I’ll always remember him, and the special time we shared together back in The ’Dam.

With Gusto,

Adrian

There’s no way I was ending this story without putting together a handpicked playlist for you guys. As not to overwhelm you with too many new tunes… I kept it short — but savage.

Without further ado:

The ’Dam Gomez Hit List is HERE.

(And dammit. I forgot adding an entire playlist inside a post doesn’t work so well. You can click HERE for a much smoother route to the music.)

The first few songs are off Bring It On — which is the album I went out and bought on CD the very next day in Amsterdam.

I also added a few more favorites to help get you started.

I’ll say it again… this music is bluesy, textured, and layered brilliantly.

And while you absolutely don’t need to be in any sort of altered state to enjoy their craft — if you are a smoker, throw on some headphones and enjoy the ride.

However you choose to listen… I have little doubt you’ll feel it in your bones.

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