We're in Auburn, Alabama, right near the university.
It actually reminds me a lot of UVA and for a while it made me miss being in college.
Until the couple sitting next to me in the coffee shop started breaking up. I wish I could've heard a lot more, but the climax of the fight seemed to be
"I think you think less of me now."
"Well, I don't think I think less of you now."
The girl was wearing sunglasses the whole time indoors, because of the sun coming into the place. Hilarious. After thinking about it, that kinda makes me miss college even more. Even though I've never been involved in a romantic fight that approaches that one in terms of absurdity (cough cough).
We're playing tonight at The Strutting Duck. Part of me is scared to get there, because it's supposedly a huge redneck bar and I've already been thinking all day about how I've left my job to play music in places with names like "The Strutting Duck." But apparently, "The Duck" is fun. Fingers firmly crossed.
We spent the last couple of days in a cabin in Fort Payne, AL, rehearsing and trying to catch up on some sleep. Kristy cooked for us, which was pleasant and unexpected, and her boyfriend and I took a long hike which included a wander through some sort of old butchering facility. The cabin also had 20+ fishing knick knacks - including one in the bathroom which said "If There Ain't Fishing In Heaven, Then I Ain't Goin'!!" Which was particularly humorous considering the owners are very religious. I dared Dylan to cross out "Fishing" and write "Doing It."
Monday, January 28, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
I Heart Birmingham/Huntsville
Our show at the Bottletree in Birmingham was quite fun. The club has a deer head mounted to the wall, a camper/trailer in the back for the bands to hang out in, and the nicest sound guy you can ask for. We got to play with our friends Through The Sparks, who pretty much packed the place and were incredibly awesome. They're also incredibly nice. Too much fun. Here's an ad for the show which includes a poster they made for for it. Doc Dailey brought some friends from Sheffield to hang out and see the show. That guy just keeps getting better and better.
My friend Ellen was a wonderful hostess. We heart Ellen. I would put a link to Ellen's picture/bio from her law firm's website, but I don't know if she'd appreciate that.
Yesterday I got to go see the Pompeii exhibit at the Birmingham Museum of Art.
With a few days off in between shows, we decided to spend some time in Huntsville, Alabama. When we got to town, Dylan had somehow arranged places for us to stay, with people that he didn't know. When I asked him who knew these people, he said he didn't know that either. Skepticism ran high. He and I ended up staying with our new best friend Breanna, on the floor in her wonderfully carpeted living room. While Kristy is staying two doors down with the marvelous Rita.
So we still don't know exactly how we found these people (I think it's like 6 degrees of separation), but they apparently host bands all the time. My only question is if other bands have as much trouble with Breanna's cat, who is clinically insane (literally). He spent most of last night jumping onto me from a nearby table. Breanna also told us a fascinating story about how the first time he "got excited", he didn't understand what was going on, so "he attacked it" and had to be taken to the hospital. This very second as I write this, he's slapping me in the face with his tail while pawing at the window and whining loudly.
Our first night in Huntsville, we went down to an open mic night so Kristy and Dylan could play some songs. Kristy's host Rita went too and was the last person to play right before the place closed. We were shocked when she got up with her ukelele and belted out an amazing soulful bluesy spiritual. When we asked who wrote it, she told us that she had written it. That was the tip of the iceberg for Rita.
Rita's house is covered with artwork that she has painted. Rita wears 1950s glasses and has a bob haircut. She is one of the kindest, warmest people I've ever met. She plays the accordian and who knows how many other instruments, and recently started writing songs on the ukelele. She is white, but attends Alabama A&M University, an historically black college where 98% of the students are minorities. She is also the mother of two super cool daughters. She volunteers at The Flying Monkey Art Center, which is like a mega-mall for artists.
Last night we had a house concert at her place which was attended by numerous adults, a bunch of children, and some animals. Late in the evening, Rita finally pulled out the ukelele to play more songs that she had written. I couldn't believe the soul that comes from this woman playing a ukelele.
Here is some of her other music here. It ain't on the ukelele, but it does the trick.
Some day someone will write a book about Rita.
My friend Ellen was a wonderful hostess. We heart Ellen. I would put a link to Ellen's picture/bio from her law firm's website, but I don't know if she'd appreciate that.
Yesterday I got to go see the Pompeii exhibit at the Birmingham Museum of Art.
With a few days off in between shows, we decided to spend some time in Huntsville, Alabama. When we got to town, Dylan had somehow arranged places for us to stay, with people that he didn't know. When I asked him who knew these people, he said he didn't know that either. Skepticism ran high. He and I ended up staying with our new best friend Breanna, on the floor in her wonderfully carpeted living room. While Kristy is staying two doors down with the marvelous Rita.
So we still don't know exactly how we found these people (I think it's like 6 degrees of separation), but they apparently host bands all the time. My only question is if other bands have as much trouble with Breanna's cat, who is clinically insane (literally). He spent most of last night jumping onto me from a nearby table. Breanna also told us a fascinating story about how the first time he "got excited", he didn't understand what was going on, so "he attacked it" and had to be taken to the hospital. This very second as I write this, he's slapping me in the face with his tail while pawing at the window and whining loudly.
Our first night in Huntsville, we went down to an open mic night so Kristy and Dylan could play some songs. Kristy's host Rita went too and was the last person to play right before the place closed. We were shocked when she got up with her ukelele and belted out an amazing soulful bluesy spiritual. When we asked who wrote it, she told us that she had written it. That was the tip of the iceberg for Rita.
Rita's house is covered with artwork that she has painted. Rita wears 1950s glasses and has a bob haircut. She is one of the kindest, warmest people I've ever met. She plays the accordian and who knows how many other instruments, and recently started writing songs on the ukelele. She is white, but attends Alabama A&M University, an historically black college where 98% of the students are minorities. She is also the mother of two super cool daughters. She volunteers at The Flying Monkey Art Center, which is like a mega-mall for artists.
Last night we had a house concert at her place which was attended by numerous adults, a bunch of children, and some animals. Late in the evening, Rita finally pulled out the ukelele to play more songs that she had written. I couldn't believe the soul that comes from this woman playing a ukelele.
Here is some of her other music here. It ain't on the ukelele, but it does the trick.
Some day someone will write a book about Rita.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
More Pictures
After soundcheck at the White Water, Little Rock.
On stage in Little Rock.
Little Rock, the next morning. Dylan, me, Jane, Michael. I don't know what Dylan and Jane are trying to accomplish.
Obama For President
Dylan on bed at hotel in Oxford. Yeah, that's right - the headboard is glued to the wall.
Pictures
From rehearsals at Dylan's house. You can see the ghost of Kristy hovering in the middle (her foot is on the floor). Creepy. 
The house where we played in Fayetteville, AR.
Inside the house, Fayetteville.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Sweet Home....
One summer while working at Trail's End Summer Camp we had to take our group of 35 kids (aged 9 and 10) on an overnight weekend camping trip along the Delaware River. The trip was to include a long kayak/canoe trip down the river, and then two nights of camping/hiking.
Over the three days/two nights, various kids had every imaginable encounter with body fluids (including one kid urinating in my tent at 3 am because it was too cold to go outside); one kid got deliriously scared by a stray dog; our leader almost had a nervous breakdown; and it rained the entire time. Rained and rained and rained. We sat in mud -- freezing, disgusting, gross mud.
The counselors discussed the possible solutions to the mass of problems and realized that we were completely stuck -- none of us had ever been in a more ridiculously uncomfortable situation where we were more helpless. Despite the weather conditions, health, cleanliness, and sanity of our group, we had to stay.
We agreed that all that we needed at that moment was a shower. One respite from the environment (however brief) would have made the world seem a bit brighter.
Miracously, we found our saving grace in one of the (putrid) restroom facilities near our campsite. The shower was coin-operated, so the counselors pooled together our coins (we weren't supposed to bring along money on the trip), providing each guy with about 5 minutes of time in the tiny shower. For an uplifting 5 minutes all was okay with the world again, before stepping outside to mud, rain, mud, madness, and vomit.
While driving today from Florence, Alabama, to Huntsville, Alabama I realized that those two days at camp was the only time in my life when I wanted a shower more than I did this afternoon.
I don't know if it's physically possible, but I believe that standing within 10 feet of my pants for more than 30 seconds was equivalent to smoking an entire cigarette. I would have advised pregnant women to stay away from me. My jeans seemed to contain the entire smoke output of every 21-35 year old in Mississippi and Alabama.
Combine that with a lack of showering in the last few days (2-4, probably), a few hours of sleep, and a gigantic amount of driving, and I began to reminisce about the last time I wanted a shower so desperately.
Marvelous people we've met in the last few days:
Doc Dailey - Singer who opened for us in Sheffield. Probably has the best Huge Beard/Bald Head combo that exists in the universe. Also as nice as humanly possible. Dylan and I slept on his bed at his house while he slept on the floor. Because he absolutely insisted. Five days ago he returned to his home in Florence, AL, after hiking in Peru for a month. Loves to lift weights in his weightroom while drunk.
Jack - owner of The Old Town Tavern. All-around swell guy. Lives above the bar. On New Year's Day, he "brought down his couch from upstairs, bought a big ol' bag of Taco Bell and watched movies in the bar all day." Had our CD in the jukebox. Cooked a delicious blue cheese and bacon hamburger. Also had Thelonius Monk, Jimmy Cliff, Lou Reed, Tom Waits, and The Strokes in the jukebox. Every day of the year at The Old Town Tavern, the most you would pay for a bottle of Yuengling beer (normal or Black & Tan) is $2.50.
Christin - citizen of Jackson, MS who asked if I had eaten Chicken On A Stick From The Chevron Station as soon as I told her we had been in Oxford the night before.
Drunk Dude At Old Town Tavern - man who kept shouting "RIIIICHAAAARD" at the end of every song.
Dylan's friend Norman - rocket scientist in Gurley, AL. Has two dogs (Mac and Cheese) and a beautiful guest room.
Ms. Orr - draft clerk at the Mississippi State Capitol. Dylan and I met her while walking around the capitol building in Jackson. She taught us some great facts about the building (for instance, the eagle on the top faces south, so as to have its back towards the North). Also called her daughter in Birmingham to insist that she see us perform there next week.
Over the three days/two nights, various kids had every imaginable encounter with body fluids (including one kid urinating in my tent at 3 am because it was too cold to go outside); one kid got deliriously scared by a stray dog; our leader almost had a nervous breakdown; and it rained the entire time. Rained and rained and rained. We sat in mud -- freezing, disgusting, gross mud.
The counselors discussed the possible solutions to the mass of problems and realized that we were completely stuck -- none of us had ever been in a more ridiculously uncomfortable situation where we were more helpless. Despite the weather conditions, health, cleanliness, and sanity of our group, we had to stay.
We agreed that all that we needed at that moment was a shower. One respite from the environment (however brief) would have made the world seem a bit brighter.
Miracously, we found our saving grace in one of the (putrid) restroom facilities near our campsite. The shower was coin-operated, so the counselors pooled together our coins (we weren't supposed to bring along money on the trip), providing each guy with about 5 minutes of time in the tiny shower. For an uplifting 5 minutes all was okay with the world again, before stepping outside to mud, rain, mud, madness, and vomit.
While driving today from Florence, Alabama, to Huntsville, Alabama I realized that those two days at camp was the only time in my life when I wanted a shower more than I did this afternoon.
I don't know if it's physically possible, but I believe that standing within 10 feet of my pants for more than 30 seconds was equivalent to smoking an entire cigarette. I would have advised pregnant women to stay away from me. My jeans seemed to contain the entire smoke output of every 21-35 year old in Mississippi and Alabama.
Combine that with a lack of showering in the last few days (2-4, probably), a few hours of sleep, and a gigantic amount of driving, and I began to reminisce about the last time I wanted a shower so desperately.
Marvelous people we've met in the last few days:
Doc Dailey - Singer who opened for us in Sheffield. Probably has the best Huge Beard/Bald Head combo that exists in the universe. Also as nice as humanly possible. Dylan and I slept on his bed at his house while he slept on the floor. Because he absolutely insisted. Five days ago he returned to his home in Florence, AL, after hiking in Peru for a month. Loves to lift weights in his weightroom while drunk.
Jack - owner of The Old Town Tavern. All-around swell guy. Lives above the bar. On New Year's Day, he "brought down his couch from upstairs, bought a big ol' bag of Taco Bell and watched movies in the bar all day." Had our CD in the jukebox. Cooked a delicious blue cheese and bacon hamburger. Also had Thelonius Monk, Jimmy Cliff, Lou Reed, Tom Waits, and The Strokes in the jukebox. Every day of the year at The Old Town Tavern, the most you would pay for a bottle of Yuengling beer (normal or Black & Tan) is $2.50.
Christin - citizen of Jackson, MS who asked if I had eaten Chicken On A Stick From The Chevron Station as soon as I told her we had been in Oxford the night before.
Drunk Dude At Old Town Tavern - man who kept shouting "RIIIICHAAAARD" at the end of every song.
Dylan's friend Norman - rocket scientist in Gurley, AL. Has two dogs (Mac and Cheese) and a beautiful guest room.
Ms. Orr - draft clerk at the Mississippi State Capitol. Dylan and I met her while walking around the capitol building in Jackson. She taught us some great facts about the building (for instance, the eagle on the top faces south, so as to have its back towards the North). Also called her daughter in Birmingham to insist that she see us perform there next week.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
All The Big Spots
Once again I find myself sitting in a ridiculous bar in a ridiculous town in the south, exultant that they have a wireless internet connection. This one happens to be in Sheffield, Alabama. I have no idea what the population is, but it resembles where my parents live in Sanford, NC. The bar is dark, smells terrible, and is in an empty stretch of "downtown," yet has wireless internet, an ENORMOUS HD tv, and the coolest jukebox ever. We've also been told that there's going to be a huge crowd tonight.
The crowds so far have been well above expectations. The people in Jackson, Mississippi, couldn't have been nicer. Every single person was polite and interested in what we were doing (and willing to buy us free drinks). Fenian's is a really old-looking Irish pub that was packed. We played for 3 hours, it was hot, people were drunk, etc etc etc. Raucous again.
Dylan and I actually got recognized in Little Rock by some dude in a coffee shop the next morning after the show. We felt special.
The night before was a much more tame show at Proud Larry's in Oxford, MS, which is a really really great venue, but we played very early to a smaller crowd. That left much time to explore the town, including roaming around the the "town square" with about 10,000 drunken U of MS students. One of whom saw my UVA sweatshirt and is actually good friends with Matt Lucas, who is the little brother of my friend from middle school Chris Lucas. My mother is probably the only person who will remember Chris Lucas, but I thought my head was going to explode. She showed me where the best spots in Oxford were, including the Chevron station. At 1am when the bars close, it's just about the only place that serves food -- so she insisted that we go there to eat "chicken on a stick" which is a GIGANTIC piece of fried chicken (on a stick). So you walk into the Chevron station and there are 50+ people milling around eating massive sticks of fried chicken. The upstanding gentleman in line in front of us treated us to ours. It was possibly the most delicious thing I've ever eaten in my life.
The next morning before leaving town we stopped by William Faulkner's house in Oxford. We felt very intelligent and studious. The house was surprisingly homey and uncreepy. Except for the walls in his office where he wrote out an outline for "A Fable" which apparently is an unreadable novel. The man working there -- the only other guy in the place -- told us that he's read every single thing by Faulkner except "Fable" and that he's failed three times to try to do so. Neat. The outline on the wall seemed enjoyable enough.
Hot Springs, Arkansas, was bizarre. Lots of weird, wacky people. We played at this really cool "loft" upstairs that had a big stage and lots of seats. We actually drew a great crowd, but I've never met more strange people in a span of a few hours. Dylan and I left town to spend the night again in Little Rock. Hot Springs prides itself on two things - being the birthplace of Bill Clinton (who the locals "thought was a real jerk when he was growing up") and this. I think 7 people mentioned it. Wow.
Today we drove for four hours on The Natchez Trace Parkway. I wanted to stop about every 3 minutes to explore. Farms, enormous fields (we couldn't tell what they were used for), swamps, trails, campgrounds -- it's like a very long, skinny national park.
Too much to mention. Or remember. I hope to have pictures soon, when we can figure out the cord on Dylan's camera.
The crowds so far have been well above expectations. The people in Jackson, Mississippi, couldn't have been nicer. Every single person was polite and interested in what we were doing (and willing to buy us free drinks). Fenian's is a really old-looking Irish pub that was packed. We played for 3 hours, it was hot, people were drunk, etc etc etc. Raucous again.
Dylan and I actually got recognized in Little Rock by some dude in a coffee shop the next morning after the show. We felt special.
The night before was a much more tame show at Proud Larry's in Oxford, MS, which is a really really great venue, but we played very early to a smaller crowd. That left much time to explore the town, including roaming around the the "town square" with about 10,000 drunken U of MS students. One of whom saw my UVA sweatshirt and is actually good friends with Matt Lucas, who is the little brother of my friend from middle school Chris Lucas. My mother is probably the only person who will remember Chris Lucas, but I thought my head was going to explode. She showed me where the best spots in Oxford were, including the Chevron station. At 1am when the bars close, it's just about the only place that serves food -- so she insisted that we go there to eat "chicken on a stick" which is a GIGANTIC piece of fried chicken (on a stick). So you walk into the Chevron station and there are 50+ people milling around eating massive sticks of fried chicken. The upstanding gentleman in line in front of us treated us to ours. It was possibly the most delicious thing I've ever eaten in my life.
The next morning before leaving town we stopped by William Faulkner's house in Oxford. We felt very intelligent and studious. The house was surprisingly homey and uncreepy. Except for the walls in his office where he wrote out an outline for "A Fable" which apparently is an unreadable novel. The man working there -- the only other guy in the place -- told us that he's read every single thing by Faulkner except "Fable" and that he's failed three times to try to do so. Neat. The outline on the wall seemed enjoyable enough.
Hot Springs, Arkansas, was bizarre. Lots of weird, wacky people. We played at this really cool "loft" upstairs that had a big stage and lots of seats. We actually drew a great crowd, but I've never met more strange people in a span of a few hours. Dylan and I left town to spend the night again in Little Rock. Hot Springs prides itself on two things - being the birthplace of Bill Clinton (who the locals "thought was a real jerk when he was growing up") and this. I think 7 people mentioned it. Wow.
Today we drove for four hours on The Natchez Trace Parkway. I wanted to stop about every 3 minutes to explore. Farms, enormous fields (we couldn't tell what they were used for), swamps, trails, campgrounds -- it's like a very long, skinny national park.
Too much to mention. Or remember. I hope to have pictures soon, when we can figure out the cord on Dylan's camera.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Big Rock In Little Rock
I wonder if the line "Little Rock? More like BIG Rock tonight!" has ever been used from the stage by a band in Little Rock.
The White Water Tavern may be my new favorite place in America. Probably the most fun I've ever had playing music....it's a decent-sized dive bar with a huge stage and an impossible-to-find location. We got there and thought we'd be playing in front of the 15 elder gentlemen sitting around smoking cigarettes. The only person under the age of 40 was our marvelous bartender Jane. We instantly loved Jane.
But by the time 10pm rolled around, the old men had left and were replaced by a large crowd of Arkansas hipsters. It was $3.50 pitchers of beer night (and I think free cigarettes....every single person in Little Rock smokes).
We played for a couple hours again, and the people could not have been more fun. People danced, people shouted, people got right up to the stage and yelled things to me, Dylan, Kristy - about the Muppets, about her dress, about our music - it was an event. Impressive levels of enthusiasm. As we were told, "people in Little Rock just love music." Dylan and I insisted we dedicate a song to Jane (Dylan didn't know "Sweet Jane", dammit)....which "completely embarrassed the hell out of her", not least of all because Kristy doesn't really have any happy songs. When we finally had to leave, we headed out to Matt's house, the owner of the bar. Who just happens to live with our new best friend Jane. They were gracious hosts and I (finally) got to share a queen-sized bed with Dylan.
Our plans to get to Hot Springs early today to bathe didn't happen.
Here's a review of the Fayetteville show.
The White Water Tavern may be my new favorite place in America. Probably the most fun I've ever had playing music....it's a decent-sized dive bar with a huge stage and an impossible-to-find location. We got there and thought we'd be playing in front of the 15 elder gentlemen sitting around smoking cigarettes. The only person under the age of 40 was our marvelous bartender Jane. We instantly loved Jane.
But by the time 10pm rolled around, the old men had left and were replaced by a large crowd of Arkansas hipsters. It was $3.50 pitchers of beer night (and I think free cigarettes....every single person in Little Rock smokes).
We played for a couple hours again, and the people could not have been more fun. People danced, people shouted, people got right up to the stage and yelled things to me, Dylan, Kristy - about the Muppets, about her dress, about our music - it was an event. Impressive levels of enthusiasm. As we were told, "people in Little Rock just love music." Dylan and I insisted we dedicate a song to Jane (Dylan didn't know "Sweet Jane", dammit)....which "completely embarrassed the hell out of her", not least of all because Kristy doesn't really have any happy songs. When we finally had to leave, we headed out to Matt's house, the owner of the bar. Who just happens to live with our new best friend Jane. They were gracious hosts and I (finally) got to share a queen-sized bed with Dylan.
Our plans to get to Hot Springs early today to bathe didn't happen.
Here's a review of the Fayetteville show.
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