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June 22.
We find ourselves in Toronto, caught in lake shore breezes, amidst a broken sky of clouds and ethereal blue. A day off yesterday, to rejuvenate after a five-show tenure. It was much needed, I believe, for everyone's sanity; not that it necessarily makes the next day easier, but more so cleans the slate from the previous week. Days off are akin to small controlled doses of amnesia.
That said, the shows prior to this afternoon had gone well. Indianapolis, despite the apocalyptic infestation of mayflies, was an unpredictably fun and offbeat show. The night before, in Cleveland at the Tower City Amphitheater, we found ourselves in stitches over the "dance contest" that OK Go! had with four competition winners after their set. Apparently, four young women from San Diego won a contest to match the band's first viral YouTube video, were flown to Cleveland, set up at the Ritz, and asked to dance onstage with the band for the judicious audience. Needless to say, it was a good time in that oppressively humid city.
In a turn of events that we've found ourselves growing increasingly numb to, despite the significance, we are set to play the Molson Amphitheater, the same stage we (dis)graced two years ago opening sheepishly for the Pixies and Weezer. Now we've come complete with three buses, four trucks, our catering team, and a few crusty East Coasters, as if this is the norm. I suppose it is now, and by that argument, we'll dispense with the introspection. If you're feeling nostalgic, dig through some old family photos or something...
We only stay through the midnight hour tonight, boarding the busses again for the long haul to Boston, or a suburb thereof, where we'll play the biggest and, potentially, most exciting audience yet.
June 17.
The blacktop blisters bare toes; upstate New York heats a cloudless day by midday; people linger with warm coffee, waiting until needed, talking shop outside of the shop.
More days have passed then it seems. Nearly a week since we began this tour, we've only been to three cities thus far, our stop in Darien Lakes, NY rounding out four. This tour has seen many bleary eyed amble through an empty floor to a lighting board to work on a "scene" not yet finished. Ambition nearly caught us off guard this time around; we shot for gold this time and perhaps have just barely reached it.
Our stage is twice what it has ever been. We have more lights on stage than some small towns. By that figure, we nearly have a small town traveling with us; we've topped out at 34-ish (seems to always change) in our caravan, a small migrant commune. We know this is no Rolling Stones tour, with dozens of busses and exponential semi-trucks wheeling away tons and tons of (un)necessary gear. Regardless, this is quite the step for us.
Needless to say, perhaps, we've needed a few shows to settle in, to iron out wrinkled details and brainstorm amendments. Our show in Minneapolis was good for all the obstacles facing us that afternoon. No, it was not perfect, but the crowd was responsive and pleased that they were first in the country to experience the summer show. Chicago, by nature of the city, was equally good to us, a favorite of ours to frequent. Our last show of the three night stand felt as it should, a capitalization of the few shows under our belts and a feeling of finally being comfortable with the beast we created.
Today we find ourselves at an amusement park, pushed to a corner in a makeshift backstage lot for a seasonal summer stage. But for those who enjoy the thrill-seeking life, we'll probably be able to catch a few rides before sound check.
We'll write again in a few days.
May 20.
An excerpt from a journal:
"The world from above, where roads and freeways appear as veins leading to the pulse of a city and the quiet cells of villages and townships. Holland looks like a modernist painting, hundreds of rectangular plots stacked like sandstone against the earth; a cross-section of a clean stone fireplace. Picasso in the distance: cubist farmland in even shades of earthen tan and brown. Now, it is as if God has dripped clouds like paint from the brush atop the landscape; as the strokes become more defined, the painter's whimsical impulses are realized."
A beautiful image at probably 150 miles per hour:
As our jet neared the runway, the final seconds of man against the odds aboard a tin can shaped like an "airplane," a group of onlookers gather on benches alongside a bicycle trail. A few people sat calmly on the bench and watched our bird descend from the sky, its trajectory and bearing its divine fate. It would land safely this time, again, they must have thought. It was as if the seemingly long-standing technology of aviation remained an enigma, and indefinable wonderment that descended upon them in patterned sequence. It was after the fact, after we had gotten our bags and were wandering through the terminal, that I realized that Hamburg, DE was one of the world's centers of aviation, headquarters to a superpower with an assembly line to boast. Perhaps it was in these people's blood. They stood, or sat, awaiting each approach as if the mystery would always remain thus.
May 17.
As the body cries for sleep, its limbs frustrated and limp in
exhaustion, the eyes glazed by climate change and cultural
overstimulation, one can only postulate that another tour as been set
in motion, and that someday one will catch a full night of sleep.
But none of this is guaranteed, of course.
We find ourselves in Amsterdam currently, an overcast sky casting a
steely gray gloss on the canals as tourists and citizens alike walk
briskly in overcoats to and fro. The occasional yelp from a youngster
fresh from the "coffee" shop; a two-toned wail of a European siren. As
it is, the city appears quiet and resolute this very moment.
A show tonight, sold-out for fifteen hundred folks, at a club called
the Paradiso. Nearby, our hotel, the Amsterdam American, the scene of
near folklore of rock bands past and present, the greats lost in
translation at the bar downstairs. All this has been passed along to
us; alas, we're both too naïve and young to know of it.
Something like eight cities in ten days, or a figure equally as
daunting, awaits us. After Amsterdam, London. After London, Hamburg.
Then Zurich. No, is Zurich later? We operate evening to evening. Can I
leave my bags in this hotel room this evening; is our flight tomorrow
morning? The scale on which we gauge comfort is drastically dissimilar
to before. But such is life.
We'll write again. Internet, for whatever reason, is the burden of
convenience that we so dearly seek out, our lives among the fibers.
May 1.
The morning on which we'd be waking in Kansas City, we instead are
home. We've had to cancel the two remaining shows due to a family
emergency. As we hate to do these things to the fans, we appreciate
your understanding and realize that the situation warranted such
sudden change.
Thanks to the fans who attended the past few weeks worth of shows; it
was foreshadowing the atmosphere of summer we so eagerly look forward
to. A short two week journey across the Atlantic separates us from
this apex of our touring careers; we look forward to seeing you, if
not from a distance, this summer.
And a heartfelt thanks to the crew. We would have virtually no careers
if not for your support.
Talk again soon.
April 29.
After a few days spent in a magical 47 square miles, we're ready to
resume the journey we abandoned temporarily a few nights ago. We find
ourselves in Champaign/Urbana, checking into a clean, new "brand-name"
hotel and awaiting our show tomorrow night at the university here.
Having not seen any road save one, I can say with certainty that I
have no preconceptions about this place, these people, or what exactly
will happen tomorrow night.
The tour, short to begin with, has nearly run its course. Two shows
distance us from a few days of time off. After Champaign, we drive to
Kansas City to play a show in the city of the greatest Midwestern
barbecue this country has to offer. I may have just offended the St.
Louis readers. Send complaints to Kansas City.
A show since we have last spoken: an arena in north Charleston, a city
that has been kind to us since the green days of touring in a fifteen
passenger van, taking turns driving and sleeping on the sheet metal
floor--your evening's "bed." Our largest show to date there, we played
for thousands of girls (a nearly accurate statement: apparently, the
women of Charleston outnumber the men five to one) that equated to one
noisy, shrill audience. But, as fate would have it, the fans of this
quaintly historical seaport are still supportive. We'll always enjoy
returning to this city, if not for anything but the ocean and the
friends we find on its beaches.
A formal statement of apologize for the British backside seen on the
beach, for those who know what I write of. But not a very honest
apology...
Days wander away as you rush through terminals and jet ways. Travel
has taken today as its timid victim. We'll wake tomorrow in balmy
Illinois.
April 25-ish.
We are not the symphony, as you might have imagined. But we did occupy
its stage tonight in Cary, North Carolina, in the backwoods beside a
pond. We could theoretically be just a few miles from town, but of
course in the cocoon that is touring life we rarely see outside the
few hundred yard radius of the venue. And we'll say that, tonight,
that few hundred yard radius was green scattered with towering pines.
There was also a noise ordinance enforced tonight, perhaps one of the
first we've encountered thus far. Set at a unoffensive ninety-two
decibels, one could easily carry a conversation in front of the stage
at a reasonable volume--that is to say, one wouldn't be horse at the
end of the evening from trying to tell their date when they first
heard that song, and how much cooler he or she should be for having
done so.
But cynicism is an unfriendly companion: the show wasn't altogether
bad. The crowd was attentive, yet excited, not unwilling to sing along
when told and shout when felt led. You can generally distinguish the
regions of the country we play to by the faint, barely audible dialect
spun into the lyrical singalongs. Certain vowels are great to listen
to when sung by six or seven thousand Southerners. Mostly, its a trait
we Midwesterners are wholly jealous of, and find undeniably appealing.
We move south to the "other" Carolina, for a show in north Charleston.
If luck has its way, we'll find our way to an old haunt: the
Seabiscuit, on the Isle of Palms, the scene of earlier shows in a
seemingly separate lifetime. Across an island driveway from the
Windjammer lies the humble breakfast eatery that fills up late in the
morning as the sleepy sun burnt lifestyle is slow to start its day.
Hopefully we can steal some eggs and memories from the cozy spot
before returning to our duties as "touring musicians, crew, etc." The
life we lead.
April 24
Blistering sun and hot plastic; rippling white tents in a noonday
breeze; a pattering of snares under the open air, a burst of rhythmic
ammunition. Alabama in the spring time.
We have begun a short summer run, darting from Southern city to
Southern city, with familiar faces around us and an aire of cool
relaxation.
Only a few cities on this run. The Carolinas, and before that,
Alabama. A shot to the middle of Illinois, and then, en route home, a
layover in Kansas City. Seemingly easy, as the sun dips from its
pendulum overhead and the lethargy of afternoon reigns over us. We
could easily all lay down and siesta from two 'til ten.
The stage is slowly being assembled. A drumkit takes form. Amps flank
the wings of the drum riser.
Our crew has grown. The familiar faces are still here. Roger sits
shaded from the catering tent on his computer. Brian, the prince of
the stage, issues edicts to local crew. Steve stares mutely across the
production office, as some people try to "work." Perhaps he's still
relishing in his recent adulation: our runner today called him a
"cutie." Such is life.
The day soldiers on. We'll have more from this camp as our week
progresses. Until then...
March 20.
Amidst the snow and cold furry of Alberta, we've survived one evening
and are posed for the second. But, it should be noted, that as you
travel south, as in most countries, the weather warms and the clouds
diffuse into blue skies. Calgary, as it turns out, is much warmer than
Edmonton. We're not sure if the temperatures were in any positive
numbers.
But show turned out okay. Granted, it was our first show in a few
weeks, and the rust was evident in places. But it was shed at
different moments and by the end, we had remembered all our parts and
the crowd seemingly hadn't noticed any of our mental lapses. A few
crazy ones even stood around in the frigid cold for an autograph and a
photo. We obliged them, mostly out of pity for their blueish colored
flesh and chattering teeth.
Tonight, however, in Calgary, the night is staged to be a good show, a
better show. The room has a strange, warehouse, industrial vibe. And
the strange of odor of digesting wheat grass. That could be from the
four crew members who went to the university's cafeteria and found the
smoothie bar. Interesting...
Oh, and our bus. It's a 1992 Eagle, nicknamed (appropriately)
"Desperado," after its infamous run with the Eagles for their reunion
tour in '92. It definitely has not been upgraded or renovated since
then, and perhaps hasn't been thoroughly cleaned since then either.
But its charm lies in the clogged sinks and ripped upholstery, the
double cassette deck and VHS player. There are strange cubbies and
mysterious holes in the bunk walls, and a window in the bathroom. Its
tour with the Fray will be short and bittersweet; we bid adieu to it
tomorrow morning as we fly to Vancouver, per the highway-closing rock
slide recently.
Yes, Canada has been fun so far.
February 23.
A beautiful day in Edinburgh. A quick sprint down the main city streets reveals the immeasurable history that has enveloped this part of the world. Gothic spires and cathedrals from nearly a millennium past, their stones faded to an almost macabre smoky black. One should really spend time here at some point in that lifetime...
A busy week or so since we last talked, mostly shows each night with the response growing better and better. The album was released here on Monday, and it seems that as time passes more people know the songs, as they need not import them or download it from the internet. Of course, who are we kidding? The internet is the revolution. Which will not be televised.
A "day off" a few days ago in the England's international mecca, London, to do the Jo Whiley show. Apparently a "big thing" here on the island, her listening audience is something of ten million people--give or take a few. If you're on the island here, and happened to miss the show, find it in the archives and give a listen for a certain "cover" song. For those of you who heard it, keep this one a
secret: not everyday do we pull a stunt like that one.
For those of you elsewhere in the world, use your savvy web skills and search your hearts out.
We are halfway through this adventure as of this evening. Eight shows down, eight shows to go. Tonight's was certainly a stand out. Let it be know: the Scots are a loud bunch, but a great audience to perform for. We had a great time, with a record number of undergarments thrown onstage. Only appropriately, we dawned said undergarments on the head stocks of our guitars and played the final song with gusto!
Doncaster (where?) tomorrow, and from there we'll make our way further south in the country to finish in London. But we'll have a word before that.
February 17.
A country filled with gray layers, pinnacles of relic steeples and
dilapidated industrial towers. For three pounds eighty pence, a train
ride into Birmingham, a town dwarfed by London but substantial on its
own. Busy on a Saturday afternoon: storefronts with slick shoes, denim
and leather on sale.
We walked in search of food, away from the crowded glossy veneer of
the mall filled with rats and other children. We found a place, downed
a few beers and a steak--real food--and split, another twenty minute
train ride to our quite, premodern city.
Inside the lobby is loud: a table of former athlete stars, talking
loudly over pints of syrupy beer of a recent game. Goals scored,
problems in aching bodies that once stood strong and lean. A quite
couple entranced--or was it distracted?--by the television, at a
nearly inaudible level, simply motion to keep the eye satisfied.
Can I borrow these chairs, mates? a stout man in a yellow oxford asks.
We have no use for them. They are his, we say.
The day is still short. Most eyes opened today past noon; bodies
crawled from bunks, still crusted with sleep and the shell of our
cocoon the road spins each night.
The lobby has seen us all today. Internet, free of charge, is a band's
Mecca. Everyone has visited our common table today, some people more
migrant than others. A quick chat, the clatter of computer keys, then
they must go. Out the automatic doors to a damp English eve.
February 16.
We're in England, cheers. We also haven't sleep--save a few hour naps
by some of us--for many, many hours. We're zombie-eyed, walking
sluggishly through the hallways to see if our time for soundcheck has
come. Today we begin the 18-day tour de British Isles, with one stop
taking us to Scotland.
Today we had the good fortune of having our dressing room set up in a
bathroom; our table of food and wine backing a toilet stall. Three of
us set up camp here already. Steve, the "Production Coordiantor" has
his computer between two sinks.
We have a day off tomorrow, oddly one day after arriving--although
with the lack of sleep it might be well worth it--and then continue
through a grueling two weeks with very little time off. We'll have a
few pints tomorrow, because it may be the last time we can see the
pubs.
Speaking of pubs, the area of the country we're in, Norwich, is old,
like most of this country, and a pub that the crew went to last night
was "probably the oldest public house in Norwich," Adam and Eve, and
they all had a pint to ward off jetlag--or induce it further into
sleep.... That's all that story had to it, I apologize.
Maybe this the jetlag speaking. Jetlagggggggggggg.
Over and out.
February 2.
Amidst the frost and numbing winds, the blowing snow that pierces like
pins, the futile extra jacket, we arrived home yesterday after
finishing our tour in Utah to similar conditions. Utah was great to
us. In fact, they we're crazy. At one point in the show for each of
us, I believe we dazed off and watched the crowd-surfing mob spill
over the barricade as over-zealous security guards threw their
flailing hands into the crowd. It was a good time, albeit a crazy
time.
This just in: Utah is crazy.
We had a whirlwind of a wrap-up to the tour; early flights, groggy
crew members and farewell shows with our friends, Mute Math. In
Starkville, just a few nights ago, we bid adieu to the four boys and
their crew, in atypical fashion: no prank was had. Was it a prank that
we didn't prank? Regardless, they felt it necessary to prank us, with
banana suits, hot dog suits (we never did figure out that one) and a
gorilla costume. It was a good time. At another point, during a guitar
solo, their bassist Roy came out and played air guitar; the
resemblance to David is uncanny. It was as if we saw a glimpse into an
estranged relationship. Maybe they WERE brothers...
And before that, the large, arena-filled chaos of our Austin, Texas
show, a city that has always been kind to us. It was a bit
intimidating at first: the arena, which holds roughly 19,000 at full
capacity, is used to house UT's basketball teams and other assorted
SPORTING events. However, with a cut-down room to about 7,000, the
warm crowd made us feel welcomed, as if the lights would dim and we'd
forget the basketball hoops that had been in place not hours before.
But that's Austin: a hell of a town.
Technically, we have one more show to wedge under our belts before we
truly go "off tour." However, the show is in Vail, and we all get to
ski because of it; more importantly, it's two hours away, not twenty,
thus we're all in good spirits. We've played Vail only once before, at
a club called 8150 (where the stage is floating and it gets a little
crazy) on a snowy evening over a year ago. It was a good time,
needless to say.
Big thanks to our crew that sacrificed most everything possible over
these last three weeks to make the tour possible; the boys in Mute
Math, for giving us a wickedly exciting show to see every night; the
fan, of course--I suppose we wouldn't have a job without you all.
We'll see you again sooner than later. We'll probably have a whole
bunch of flashy crap with us too, so look out.
Take care now, you hear?
January 23.
Editor's Note:
It appears that in the last blog, there occured a misprinting. While
we truly love and enjoy Atlanta, we still managed to use the wrong
term for the area of the city we stayed at. While it sounds great as
"Bucktown," it is in fact "Buckhead." Was this an act of humor, a
quick quip at the reading public? Was this appopriate?
Neither of which we can fully answer, except to say that the author
has been swiftly removed and will never been seen in these parts
again.
Sincerely,
The editor.
January 20.
Apologies for the delays. It's not that we've been severely busy
(although we could fein that excuse); I believe laziness mostly
accounts for it.
The bus sits in Myrtle Beach, the first city of the tour with a clear,
cloudless sky and pleasant weather--no offense to every other city,
it's just that your weather wasn't anything to mention... We have a
show this evening, at the House of Blue next to the Alligator
Adventure that surely has been written about before. I won't spare too
many sentences on it this go around, except to say that it is
entertainment second to none--especially in these parts.
As far as what has happened since we last spoke, surely a few shows
and a "day off" in Atlanta that had a radio lounge in the early
evening. The Ohio University show--and the mayhem that insued--had
happened before the last blog, but yet was never mentioned. Find out
for yourself what happened--check YouTube, if you like. We played a
beautiful room in Pittsburgh, a gorgeously restored early 20th-century
theater. We then returned to one of our favorite spots, the NorVa in
Norfolk, Virginia and played to a great crowd. We also got video of
our driver Roger in the hottub backstage; the same hottub that Tommy
Lee is said to frequent when he's in town. Needless to say, the rest
of us stayed ten feet from that tub.
Day off in Atlanta, in Bucktown, the "Beverly Hills of Atlanta,"
someone coined. An area of the city completely inundated with money
and slick, clean cars, it nonetheless had plenty of things to do and
plenty of restaurants to chose from. If you're ever in the Atlanta
area, pay a visit to Aria, a "sublime" (to borrow our waiter's
word-of-the-evening) bistro in Bucktown.
It's midday: the alligators are getting hungry.
January 16.
Snow falls in Cleveland.
Waters rise in Miami?
We are, in fact, in Cleveland, Ohio, a cold and gray cityscape
succumbing to light flurries. The theater is a grand room, a large
chandelier high above the floor seating and a balcony tucked in the
rear of the room. We'll play in about six hours, to a capacity crowd
who can hopefully stand for a few hours. It's rought to play to a
seated theater audience sometimes.
Last night we played Cincinnati, a show that dug itself out of the
ground to become another fine evening. The city was quiet, a subdued
parade in honor of Monday's namesake snaked through concrete blocks,
supporters huddled under umbrellas and plastic tarps in muted support.
We had a day off in Cincinnati, another rain inundated day, where we
sat around in low-lit hotel rooms and watched football games and took
naps. Everyone needed some R&R, and a long dinner at Bistro JeanRo on
Vine Street was a perfect nightcap. Good wine, good food.
We have a few more shows before a "day off," which already had events
planned. A few more shows after that and a respit of two days at home.
A somber day, quieted by cold drafts and warm coffee. 'Til we speak again.
January 10, 2007.
So this is the new year...(bum!) I don't feel any different...(bum bum!)
We're back on tour, back on the bus, the bus with Beamon. And we're
sitting in Waverly, Iowa at the moment, engines rumbling, ready to
pull out and head to (let me check the calendar) Lafayette, Indiana.
Two shows down so far, the first being in Kenosha, Wisconsin. (If
you're noticing a trend so far, it's that you can't find the cities on
this tour on a regular map.) However, the shows have been fun if only
for the reason that Mute Math is our opener, a wildly energetic,
frenetic band that puts on a great live shows. We've seen two and each
has amazed us. It's always humbling to tour with an opening band
that's "cooler" than you.
But regardless, we think the shows have been fine so far. A few
mistakes here and there, botched notes and bombed jokes--but cut us
some slack, it's our first few shows after three weeks of blissful
vacation at home, under three feet of perpetual snow drifts. Did
someone say global warming?
Tonight was Wartburg College in Waverly, a small private school amidst
a biting Iowa chill. Supposedly it's gonna snow here in the new few
days.
We're all well. Ben shaved his head into a mohawk. He looks very much
tougher than he actually is, although don't tell him we think so.
Joe's scooter didn't make it on this leg, partly because he'd need a
ski suit and goggles to ride in the weather we've been having. Other
than that, the camp's quiet.
Talk to you soon.
Over and out.
{November 10} It's been so long since the last blog, I'm not even sure I know where to begin.
We'll say this: we've been home already, thought that seems like a
near eternity past. We then played a few shows, beginning in New
Orleans. Truth be told, there have been quite a few shows since we
last spoke. I'll try my best to accurately and efficiently portray
each one.
Before we went home for a few days, we played Orlando, to a raucous
Halloween crowd, dressed in Spiderman suits. Check the website.
Apparently there is a video. And those costumes were "tight," if you
know what I mean.
Went home. Came back, then played New Orleans. A city with a
reputation built on the faults of mankind. Interesting place to be an
entertainer. Our time was cut short, however, in order to make our
drive to Texas: we did get a trip to Cafe Du Monde under our belts,
piles of powdered sugar and mediocre coffee.
Then over to Texas, a country in itself--which isn't inherently a good
thing. Three shows there, with diminishing Texas-ness. We began in
Dallas, which is as Texas and Texas gets. The show was fine, in a
large sterile place called the Will Rogers. Houston followed, in a
strange arena-theater hybrid with Verizon attached to it. Better show,
better crowd--with no offense to Dallas. Then on to Austin, at the
historic Stubb's BBQ, a wonderfully laid back outdoor show in the most
laid back (read: coolest) city in Texas.
Last night, then, after a day of driving and dodging the New Mexican
border control, we played at Centennial Hall on the campus of the
University of Arizona to a beautiful collegiate crowd that, frankly, a
few on the crew couldn't keep their eyes off of. Last night's show was
fun and rowdy, a whole bunch of kids tired of studying and ready for
some music and a break from Organic Chem. We met some great people
after the show, inviting everyone that was waiting by the bus for
autographs and pictures to Jimmy John's. What a glorious thing to mob
a sandwich shop at 11 at night with 150 starry-eyed kids and five
burly security guards following us. Thanks, too, to Froth Coffee.
Mighty good espresso for the end of the evening.
On to Phoenix. Sun-Devil country: some of us are more proud than others.
{October 29} Our Nation's capital. Our country, 'tis of thee. And damn good Mexican food.
We played last night at Constitution Hall, to a sold out room of 3700 people. Last night included a special MVP segment (which, of course, is not a long-running tradition--Isaac started it three shows ago, in case you see it in a town near you) featuring Joe's daughter, Elise. She was cute and had a song of her own prepared, which had three simple words to it, but much time was spent I'm sure preparing and perfecting it. It was less of a song, more of a chant. Maybe she was channeling the old Gregorian monks. Maybe she didn't know more words to write...
Tomorrow we head to Atlanta for a show at a great room, the Tabernacle. We've only opened for Ben Folds in that room before, and it's exciting to think of our own show there. Beside that, we're in the south, the land of grits and sweet potato fries and ribs and stuff. Oh, can't wait. Need some southern cookin'!
I'm not exactly sure if we played any shows from when we last talked. Probably some shows in New York, which went well if you were wondering. Probably Good Morning America, which was well early in the morning. Probably a show in Philly, at the Electric Factory, that happened to also be a great show. And probably a total of at least 35 cheesesteaks (that's Ben's estimate) between everyone on the crew. Mark let us down and came under his previous record of 5 with only 4 a few days ago. It was rough to watch. He looked nervous under pressure. He hadn't trained. Oh well. We move on.
To Atlanta. We'll talk soon.
{October 25} Kids everywhere on our bus! In and out of the hallways, jumping from bunk to bunk, catching themselves in the mirrors overhead and almost falling over in awe. Kids eating other kids!
We're en route from Boston to the Big Apple, from Beantown to the Big Time. We had a good time here in Boston. We brought out our families for a few days, had a day off to wander around in the oldest places in our country. The Boston Common's been around since 1654. I didn't know this country had as much history. It's all relative: when we were landing on our shores for the first time, Japan and the rest of civilized Europe was cloning sheep or something like that. But still...
Show in Boston at the Orpheum: a success! Isaac pulled off the "I don't-wanna-play-with-my-guitar-plugged-in" thing again, and it was equally successful as it's ever been. Now it's down the highway to our nation's largest, tastiest city, where we will play two nights at the Hammerstein Ballroom, do a performance on Good Morning America, and all around be run ragged for a few days--such is life in New York.
The tour, with the completion of the two dates ahead of us, will be halfway over. Intermission, if you will, only that's figurative of course--there will be no breaks for another week or so. Then we'll meander across the country for a swing up the west coast and into the Northwest (the greatest part of the country, but I can't say that).
Talk to you later.
{October 21}
Toronto, the city of Brotherly Love.
Ontario, the Sunshine Province.
The Kool Haus: so cool it's spelled with a "k." And we're about to play it; I guess this would be Saturday, a gloomy drizzly day in Toronto. We're on the edge of the downtown, near the water in a warehouse district that's been converted into a string of nightclubs and this concert venue...that looks like an oversized nightclub. It might moonlight as a nightclub. Get it?
The only other thing to speak of was our show in Detroit, which featured rival theaters, James Blunt, a bulldog named Nigel, and pinball. We were playing the State Theater, the smaller cousin of the Fox Theater next door. James Blunt was playing the same night. And while we're on the subject, a Canadian the other day called the blog out on referencing quite often "James Blunt." James Blunt James Blunt James Blunt James Blunt James Blunt.
Where was I: oh, Detroit. The promoter of both, a young hip woman in a striped shirt named Codi (with whom half our crew fell in love) had a bulldog (with whom everyone fell in love) named Nigel, who made a guest appearance during encore. He got a little scared, barked a little, a ran around for a few minutes before leaving to a roaring applause. And the show was good, all in all. Detroit's good to us.
Now we're getting ready to sound check. This venue is as cold as an ice box. I'm gonna serve my fingers medium-rare pretty soon.
{October 18} So we're an arena rock band now. Bring out the American flags and working class and everything you have that's tight and leather.
We finished a show at the DeltaPlex, a small arena in Grand Rapids, MI; the show, mind you, included an ice sculpture, crowd-surfing, bras on stage, and a mockingly bad arena rock guitar solo in the middle of "Dead Wrong." After tonight, we'll either denounce arena rocks shows forever or wholly endorse them. We're not entirely sure yet.
But before tonight, we played two sold-out shows at the Aragon Ballroom, a venue we heard earned the nickname the "Scaragon Brawlroom." It's a strangely Middle Ages-themed venue with turrets, a celestial ceiling with constellations, and witches being burned at the stake. I might have embellished that last part. But both were good shows, loud and full of people, people, people. We mentioned the Bears and we had to plug our ears there was so much clamor. Chicago folk are always good to us. The past few nights were no different.
Tomorrow we're off to Detroit, the scene of one of our previously loudest-shows-ever-recorded. We all remember it, the St. Andrews. Those people were NUTS. So we'll see if the tradition continues.
Then we'll head up north later this week, to the Great White North, for a day and a day in Toronto. Again, another good place to visit and play a show. Good ol' Canadians.
We're not sure where that ice sculpture ended up. It's probably gone, diffused into the rain puddles outside. But it had a grand life. Check MySpace or YouTube or whatever-the-hell-other-website you can find.
Happy birthday Linz.
{October 13}
Dear readers,
It's Friday, the first leg of this fall tour is coming to a close. We'll finish tonight at the Murat Theater, the grand seated room in this massive complex in Indianapolis. But before that, a tour of the Indianapolis Speedway and a meet and greet or two.
We've done a lot since we last talked. We played our show in Omaha, which I last spoke of, as well as a show in Kansas City, St. Louis, and Nashville. All have gone splendidly. The show in Kansas City was at the Uptown Theater, an ornate, circus-like room with bright colors and a big ol' balcony. It was a fun show too, if I remember. But I usually don't remember well... St. Louis has become a special city for us; our relationship with Colin's family has become a marked reason to enjoy this city, regardless of how much fun it would be normally. The show went well, as could be expected from the Pageant Theater, and of course we continued the tradition of bowling at the Pin-Up Bowl after the show. Brian and Joe are the only really contenders. I take that back: Joel, our lighting technician, gave us all a good show.
If you've never been to the Ryman Auditorium (hell, if you haven't even heard of it), at least go the website and see the history this place has on its sleeves. Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley. It has rooms dedicated to country music legends, because they all PLAYED there. It's a wonderfully acoustic room--you could go without a sound system, if you wanted. And Isaac did: for encore, he pulled from the mic and unplugged his guitar and sang to the crowd sans amplification. We learned it was a Ryman tradition later on, the likes of Jeff Tweedy and Sufjan Stevens doing the same stunt, but it worked none-the-less. It was a great show; Nashville's a great place for music.
Now we're in Indianapolis, a great place for...race cars? Music, perhaps, as well. We'll see tonight. Then we'll fly home for a few days, visit our families, and come back to Chicago to rock and roll.
But a special thanks is due to Aqualung. This has been a band that we, as a band, have always enjoyed, and have secretly always wanted to play with. Their music is beautiful. And their British! Why not? But we have been fortunate enough to have them on this leg of the tour with us, and have enjoyed their set every night we can see it. These boys better go far. If they don't, something's wrong with this system--but we won't get into that. Fare thee well, Aqua boys.
{October 9} The start of another week. "It's just another manic Monday."
We are in Omaha, Nebraska at the moment, in the middle of an overcast afternoon with drab gray skies and nipping temperatures. We're setting up camp at the Sokol Auditorium, a venue we've played a few times before. It's an interesting place--still a gymnasium at times, it's now a two level music venue with the next great thing playing downstairs (read: all underground Omaha ventures, and other indie favorites) and a bigger room for "other bands." We're in that category, so it seems. But our crew guys saw Why last night downstairs and are still glowing.
We played the Eagles Ballroom since we last talked, in Milwaukee, and then stuck around in Milwaukee for a day off and caught a bit of the Ben Kweller in the ground level Rave. A good friend of ours who toured with the Damnwells for a short while took up the aux. position in Kweller's band, and sounded great. Way to go, Jay.
A string of show's coming up. We'll hit a few breadbasket venues, swing over to Nashville for the old Grand Ole Opry. Play in Indy, come home for a weekend.
Three shows under the belt. Tour's starting off right. Let's hope it stays that way.
{October 7} Oh crap.
I've forgotten this poor blog. It's suffered. It's like an abandoned puppy, battered and homeless, begging with its puppy dog eyes at the kennel for some poor soul to pity its poor soul.
Well, fine, we adopted it. We got suckered by the girl next to us, whispering: "Oh, come on, it needs a home. It's just gonna be put to sleep if you don't take it home..."
So: we're in Milwaukee, parked outside the Rave, for our third appearance here, but our first in the legendary, genuinely intimidating Eagles Ballroom, a grand oval room, the scene of glorious fight nights eighty years ago. And now we're playing it. Fate turns funny directions sometimes.
But before this evening, we've played a few great shows at a few great venues. First on the agenda, the Northrop Auditorium on the campus of U of M (Minnesota) in Dinkytown, a great little eclectic college neighborhood of Minneapolis. Then we played the Orpheum in Madison, Wisconsin, the home of Wisconsin's university. So, college towns and beer and loud fans. It's been fun.
Before these shows, of course, was our night at Red Rocks Amphitheater back home. There is truly nothing to say about this evening save the fact that it was totally surreal, and we may not understand what we've done for months to come. We've grown up idolizing Red Rocks. Then we played it. Wild.
We've got a few more shows to play before we go home for a few days, continue this adventure in Chicago. But I promise we'll write before that, update you, give this poor puppy a bowl of food. And some good ol' TLC.
{July 30} We're going for record time between blog entries. What was this, nine days? Ouch.
But it's fitting, I suppose, because these days have been hectic. We just finished a three-night stand at the House of Blues in Chicago, each show with a wonderfully exuberant crowd and a uniqueness (read: David's shirt came off the last night...again...). And of course a trip to Chicago isn't complete without a handful of other things to do: radio, promotion, meet and greets, the like. But we suck it up and take it, because we had three great shows. More importantly, we have a much needed month off now.
And of course, before all this, we played a show in San Diego, Phoenix, and Tulsa, with a stop in St. Louis for some radio promo stuff. All this in nine days. We had a full week. Or a full sixteen months, however you'd like to look at it.
Our second night in Chicago was our final night with Augustana, our opener for a month, labelmates, and friends. There were extraordinary to be with, adding a little bit of rock and roll to the tour, beating around in their 15-passenger van (and don't we remember those days) with notes and drawings scribbled on all sides of their trailer. Hopefully it's only a matter of time before they're taunting their opener, retreating to a bus, with only memories of that van. We wish them all of the best and hopefully will see them again along the way.
In other news: Phoenix was hotter than hell itself, the seventh circle, the core of earth, etc. Tulsa had one of the wickedest rooms yet, an old garage for fixin' Model Ts and a music ballroom since 1924. St. Louis had a pool with Olympic diving platforms, enough said. And San Diego...it was pretty, like San Diego always is.
That's it. We're officially on break now, like a summer break after two years of schooling. When we return, we'll be full of life, energy, excitement, and the blog will be up-to-date.
{July 21} I don't even know when the last blog was. Does anyone any more? I feel that this blog has suffered greatly recently. It ranks in importance with saving animals and the environment and stuff, at least with this current administration.
Look, the blog is political now!
We're in LA now, having played two shows at the House of Blues on Sunset. The first was a good show--we've had luck here in LA, giving some good performances in a ciy notorious for screwing artists up. Our second show, however, was better, with a big smack of surprise for our fans in the encore. The one and only John Mayer came and played a few songs with us, turning "Look After You" into a kick-ass blues number, his fingers burning the fretboard and his guitar singing through the speakers. It was a lot of fun. We almost sat back and listened, nearly forgetting to play. He's John Mayer for a reason--he's a master of the guitar.
But I have a feeling that we've played a few more shows since we last spoke, perhaps Portland, San Francisco, Sacramento, not really sure. But in that order, we had a good show, a great show, and a show. It's hard to come off the Fillmore. It's the Fillmore! There were too many posters to count on the walls, any artist you could think of that has had any impact on the last forty years of popular music. Needless to say, our hearts skipped a few beats walking in that place. But the greatest success was the show, a show that lived up to expectations for us and the fans--we think. We had a high to come off that show...
Now we have a day off in here in the LA, the Windy City.
We might have a pool party, we might do drugs; what happens in LA stays in LA, right? Is that how it goes?
In all seriousness kids, drugs are bad.
Only a small dose of shows left on this tour: San Diego, Phoenix, Tulsa, Chicago, home. This has been a fun tour so far, and Augustana have been greats kids to spend evenings with.
That's all for now.
{July 14} Another beautiful day in Seattle. We're getting spoiled; we know it's really not this nice here. We know it's cloudy and gray and vaguely depressing. But we haven't seen it. It's a beautiful day today, a lovely day for a concert.
Last night we played Spokane again, complete with family for both Joe and Dave and a day off to boot. The venue: the Big Easy. An early show, one for all ages, with time to get the parents back in bed. And the show was fun, a rowdy good time for the 1400-or-so people in attendance. A sold-out show, with about twice as many people as Vancouver the night before.
But Vancouver is a lovely city, a cosmopolitan wash of sand-colored buildings. Inlets with forests of pine trees and bald eagles. Watch the water long enough and you'll see a few planes take off from the currents.
Those are the scariest planes on the planet.
The show in Vancouver was our first show in British Columbia, at a place called the Croatian Cultural Center--with no visible signs of Croatian anything, just a name. A name and a fairly sterile room to play music in. But it didn't matter much; we played to the 800 people that came, shy of a sell-out, like we would to anyone else. And hopefully those Canadian folk enjoyed it.
But Seattle tonight; the Showbox, a venue we've heard of in great regard and never played. It's rock and roll, through and through, and hopefully we'll give a good rock show in a few hours.
We'll go down the coast a ways, play to some Californians in borrowed BMWs, move on inland, and somewhere end up in Chicago. This tour's gonna be good.
{July 9} A salty must rushes through an opened window; a blast of a car horn. The squirm and grind of taxi brakes; the muffled dialogue of television next door.
Tour has begun again; we find ourselves in Manhattan, as a few of us come early before our television appearance.
While two others are breathing a more pure air, a relaxed and carefree breeze. Home, sleeping on familiar sheets next to familiar bodies.
A duo of outdoor shows, sweaty and exuberantly energetic, the grounds left littered post-show with souvenirs of smiles and slurred words.
The midwest; both a northern, icy land and musty wetland. Two cities, built in pragmatism and fundamental realism. Industrial stability.
Monday. Monday, television after television after television. Fortunately Sunday comes before Monday.
Representing the final leg of summer touring, July: three cheers for beer, old friends, beer, nostalgia, beer.
More
to
come.
Buenos noches, senors e senoras.
{June 14} Time for another blog.
Do duh do duh do.
Perhaps, in a haiku:
"Days in Toronto,
Maple leafs and polite faces:
We love Canada!"
We just played Pontiac (which is just a suburb of Detroit) at a place called Clutch Cargo's (which was just a church at one point) for some fans (who are just your average folk) who screamed a lot.
Another poem:
"We are tired.
Our feet stained with walking
Our lips split from talking.
We are worn,
Like bald tires and
Baseball caps."
Tomorrow we're in Cleveland and we'll visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, followed by some radio stations (or perhaps they'll visit us) and then a show.
And as a final farewell: we'll try to convince Brian to eat some meat tonight, as mostly a science experiment to see exactly what happens to him a few hours later...
{June 9} It's about time, right?
Regardless, we're in Syracuse, New York, at a hotel on a day off. And do this point, we've played a few shows and been to a few cities we'd never seen before. Cities like Cincinnati, Columbus, and tomorrow, Syracuse. Well, apparently Rod's been to Syracuse--went to school here--but isn't he just the worldly traveler now? Big shot.
The tour started on a sunny, warm day in Indianapolis, at the Egyptian Room at the Murat Theater, a sprawling complex with four rooms virtually next door to one of the best indie music shops we've seen (a bold claim, I know). Brian and Jimmy stocked up, coming back with goodie bags and giveaways because they bought so much. And the show went well, our first in this tour with Brandi Carlisle supporting us. She's great, has a wonderful voice and great crew of musicians backing her. And I believe she's doing Conan O'Brian tonight; if you read this in time, turn on the TV!
The next night was Cincinnati, at a place called Bogart's--a slightly dirty club with a great rock vibe to it. I think that show went well. The shows, at even three played, begin to blur together. What was last night was the night before, and that night prior to that has all but vanished. Oh well, right? No offense, listening public, but we're pulling some long days...
But we do remember last night--if we didn't, we'd probably all need to see doctors for one cure or another. Across the street from the campus of OSU (BUCKEYES!), the Newport Music Hall attracted listeners from far and near (and by that I mean, stumbling from the frat house five doors up the street). But of course, later that night the REAL party started as the 2006 Pub Crawl got into full swing, hundreds of sadly stumbling college kids making their way to that "neighborhood bar down the street a few blocks." Lawns shimmered in emptied beer bottles, a glass garden. O College!
And a day off, much needed. Regain some composure, muster some strength, and ready ourselves to play some more shows. Come out, why don't you! Come all ye to the Fray!
{June 4} A new blog, to tide you dear readers over, written by Mr. Rod Blackhurst IV himself.
"Given the number of airports that we see, one might be under the next begins to resemble the last, and vice versa. Au contraire mon frere, and in the defense of a good airport, there are always seem to be a few that rise above the rest.
In order to grade an airport you must take into account several important factors, like accessibility, how close are terminals to each other (every try running one of those underground tunnels at O'Hare), with a place like the Minneapolis St. Paul airport and its nifty in-terminal monorail system, which makes your trip between connecting flights quick and efficient. Also of importance are the number of over-priced single serving eateries. Nothing like paying $10 for a mangled burger that has been sitting beneath the heat lamp for 2 hours in the Fort Lauderdale airport. But then find the Philadelphia airport where you can get an authentic cheese steak and thus have a rather Philly experience without ever having to leave the airport. Other important airport grading factors are the people watching factor; good seating areas in busy traffic patterns where you can watch the suits go by, talking to cables that hang from ears, all engaged in seemingly non-existent or single sided conversations. Good news stands; where you can read every trashy magazine in the world without ever having to pay. I've been known to remember my page in the latest issue of US Weekly so that when I hit the next airport I can pick up where I've left off.
Take this past week. Played a show last Saturday in Boston, got back home that night. Take care of yourself chez yourself for a few days and then find yourself on a 6:30 AM flight to Austin, TX Saturday morning. You go to bed at 1 AM and have a lobby call at 4:50AM for your flight home Sunday, then you hop back on a flight Monday afternoon for the road. I know that you've seen it all before.
Short of frequenting many of the airports in this country we also get to see more truck stops than the average traveler (save the long distance truck drivers). It becomes hard to keep track of the number of times you run into other bands in truck stops, either using the restroom, playing Buck Hunter in the arcade, or still crashed out on their bus. These are the lives of road warriors. It's those moments, where you cross paths with fellow warriors, that you find camaraderie and "family" in your chosen profession.
In Austin we ran into Dustin, who was in the band the Riddlin Kids, and then spent the night with James Blunt and his right hand piano playing man (and best dancer ever) Paul Beardy. Over the course of the past month we played two shows with James, in Hollywood, FL, and Boston, and Joe ran into Paul in NYC, randomly. See, those of us, who do what we do, just seem to understand one another, and so over a few pints and some talk, we share our common existence.
Next time you travel, keep your eyes out for me. I'll be keeping my eyes out for you."
{June 1} This will be an interim blog. Not that we needed, but mostly that we felt you might enjoy it. And we didn't exactly wrap up the last tour.
So, this is how it ended: Earthfest 2006, Boston MA, May 27. It was a muggy day, sticky skin and stretched out t-shirts. It rained, then it stopped, then it rained again. And fortunately, for our set, it wasn't raining. It was one of the biggest crowds (the biggest?) we've ever played to, an estimated 50-60,000 people attending this free music and lifestyle festival. It was fun and intimidating and scary and entertaining all at the same time, and hopefully it was all that for everyone there too.
And now we've been enjoying a week off, ending soon however at a beach party in Austin, Texas with our good friend James Blunt and others. Come to think of it, we've been seeing James a lot of places these days. He was at Earthfest. He was in Hollywood, Florida. I saw him on the Today Show, but we weren't there. And I wasn't at the Today Show. Because I don't watch the Today Show.
We'll probably see all y'all soon enough, as time has a habit of flying by when we're on the road. If you've read these blogs, come say hi. If you haven't, you're out of the loop and everyone who comes and talks to us will look so cool and you'll want to know how to be so cool and no one will tell you, so there.
So, keep reading.
{May 26} A lot has happened since we last talked. It's raining in Providence, gray on gray with umbrellas in hand. We've also played a few shows, worked too much in New York, and had a great dinner/birthday party last night for Joe and Isaac.
But first, the shows. We played a great show to a great crowd at a great venue (read: a few days ago at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia). We've always loved that venue, since the first (and wait, yes, only) time we played there, a half year ago opening for Ben Folds. And hear this: a rumor's spreading that a recording might surface of that show, at some point.
We also might have played Norfolk, VA between then and now--I can't truthfully remember. But I do remember that venue being great and having the largest (and first) backstage hot tub we've ever seen. Maybe when you get "bigger" you see more hot tubs. Or maybe we just need to become rock stars. Someday, I suppose.
Then comes New York. There are always things to do, and too much of them. It goes like this: when we have an hour, we have three things to do. If an hour frees up, somehow three more things are scheduled. But complaining gets nowhere, of course, because this is the indisputable curse of New York: everything happens there, so we've got everything to do. Know what I'm saying? But, on Tuesday, we played at Webster Hall--a wonderful room--to a sold-out house of loudly singing fans and it was a lot of fun. And no pressure, of course.
Wednesday was work followed by work followed by a radio show followed by the best Italian food in New York.
Thursday, then, was Joe's birthday, and the day of celebration at our big boss' house, a beautiful estate in Connecticut. We had plenty of homemade Italian food, good Italian wine, some cigars, and some good relaxing. It was a nice cap to the New York madness, a respite before the tour ends.
And end it will soon: we play in Providence tonight, at Lupo's, and then in Boston tomorrow for Earthfest. Then we come home. Thank the Lord.
{May 20} A couple days off, a show in Baltimore. A few too many Polish hot dogs, and not enough of Grandpa Wysocki's jokes. Slightly offensive? Maybe, but you can't help but laugh when you hear them.
Ben's uncle allowed us to stay the evening at his place, grilling for us and serving us cake after cake after cake. Then we hung out, listened to Grandpa, and retreated back to our bus. It's a home away from home; we can't even take a free bed when it's offered. We watched some movies. We acted like normal folk.
But we couldn't get used to that, because this evening we had a show in Baltimore. Baltimore is hard and gritty, the sidewalks cracked and suspicious glances thrown through cracked windows. It has an entirely different feeling--and an amazing aquarium, or so I've been told. The line was too long and it cost $25 for a single ticket, so we all bagged the idea. Instead we found the nearest Barnes & Noble, a truly unique Baltimore experience.
But the show was good and loud, with plenty of screaming people "singing" along to the songs. Perhaps at some point we should make an announcement prior to the show, stating that if singing is your fancy, we fancy you sing on pitch. No, that's mean. But it is funny. "HOW TO SAVE A LIFE..." That's how it sounds, as if the entire concert is sung in capital letters.
We enjoyed it, and look forward to Philly tomorrow. Cheese steaks!
{May 18} Well, Washington DC is cool.
In other news, we have a guest editorial today by our budding filmmaker/merch guy Rod Blackhurst:
"Let me count the ways I love you. Thursday morning. 6AM headed northbound. And we get to watch the Damnwells play tonight. Are they really superhuman? Do they ever really mess up? Yes to the former and no to the latter. The night before in Norfolk they showed up 30 minutes before doors having missed their wake up call in Myrtle Beach, only to add insult to injury by receiving a speeding ticket, took the stage, rocked like it wasn't a free world, and blew the roof of the joint. Always enjoyable to watch those cats. The 9:30 Club was a reunion of sorts for the Fray and the Damnwells, returning to the scene of their first crime together, a months ago. Did I tell you how much I love you?
Cut to Int. All Access Tour Bus - Bethesda Maryland - Early AM
7:30. Radio show. 2 acoustics, 2 vocals, 2 shakers, 1 set of keys and 4 players. Top it off with a trip to Whole Foods with mountains of unpasteurized French cheese, baguettes, blueberries, fresh cherries, and fig preserves.
Perhaps we'll meet. Maybe even make an acquaintance. You might see me with some cameras or with some tubs of t-shirts. But come say hi. My bark is nonexistent."
Thank you Rod. And thank you, dear readers.
{May 15} We may have just played the coolest venue in the world. Not, the "best," or the "grandest," or certainly the "biggest," simply the coolest. A little background for you. The venue's name is the Sloss Furnace, and it a 100+ year old shed in a steel mill compound, owned by a man named Sloss that functioned and made American steel until the 1970s when it was shut down. It is beautiful rusted and eery, massive cylinders and piping of worn steel and caverns of creepy slime and darkness. Not enough pictures to do this venue justice.
And the show went well, really well, for something like 2500 people. And they all screamed and yelled and sang along with every word.
Yesterday we had an evening off in Nashville, where we all decided to blow our saved per diem and have a good dinner with a good friend of Steve. We came back to the bus, watched a flick, had some scotch, and went to bed. It was a much needed day of rest (the earlier part of the day was spent at the bus leasing offices, All Access Coach Leasing, getting a new trailer and spitting in the dirt with a four year-old.
Now we're high-tailing it to Myrtle Beach, where Joe and Jimmy are set for an eleven o'clock tee time at some golf course. No one else really cares, because no one really plays golf (or even knows how to hold a club, for that matter) so the rest of the bunch will find something to do, perhaps involving alligators and leftover deli meat. Nice.
Until the the next time, dear readers. Adios.
{May 12} Okay, okay. Here goes the new blog. Truth be told, this is a little late coming. We've actually played a few shows by now, but all of them have had their downfalls (technically, mentally, and once the piano tuner didn't show), so tonight, being a rousing good time opening for none other than, Hootie and Blowfish, we thought we'd write and tell you about it.
First of all, we played something called Taste Addison, in the town of...yes, Addison, Texas, to a crowd of some might say 10,000. Rough estimates, though. And it was a food festival, with lots of tents and turkey legs and beer and people with grease on their fingers. Where we're from, it's called Taste of Colorado, and these events are usually accompanied by bands of all sorts, and tonight, it was us and Hootie. Hootie. Yeah, you read right.
But we played well, with no technical blunders or mishaps, and the crowd dug it. And we got mobbed by people as we tried to weave our way toward turkey legs. You know, the big limbs of smoked meat; you feel like a caveman, gnawing and tearing and ripping and growling. I growled anyway.
But let's see: to this point, we've played a show in Minneapolis and a show in Dallas, a private show in Las Vegas and an opening gig for our man James Blunt in Hollywood, Florida. James is a good guy, even though he is the most quoted man in our bus history. "You're Beautiful..." Steve Clark, "you're beautiful..."
Tomorrow we're in Houston, staying in big ol' Texas. We've got a show in a room we've played before, on Valentine's evening actually. The city where we asked some folks to come on stage, three boys to impress a dateless girl, and we picked a winner and had them sit onstage while we "serenaded" them. Y'all remember that? Maybe not, but we do, and we hope the magic is still there...
Talk to you later, dawgs.
{April 13} Another under our belts. We've come home again. Isn't that just sweeeeet?
We played a show in Omaha last night, to a large, raucous crowd of 1600 or so. We played "a little longer than normal" because this was our final show. Rumors have begun to circulate that a certain "song" that we may or may not have finished the show with is on our set list all the time. Alas, that is not true. We are tired of the song. It lost its luster months ago. Dare I say, years ago? However, given the right circumstances and some sweat, the song rears its head, and it turns out alright.
We spent the day wandering around in Omaha, visiting a cafe called Delice and eating a mountainous savory-pie-thing that had "a whole stick of butter in it," said the server. That's why it tastes good, I thought. We walked down a record shop, a bookstore, and then back the mile or so to the venue. Omaha.
We need a few cheers, here, for a guy named Tony Cline. He drove our bus, day in, day out, missed a day of golf, put up with Rod nearly passing out (no offense, Rod), and only raised his voice at some punk kid outside who had the nerve to write in the dust on the outside of the bus. "Don't you ever touch my bus like that," I remember clearly. Tony: we're glad to have you on the team, for a while.
And an official welcome to the aforementioned Rod Blackhurst, who has dutifully taken on the role of "merch guy/'Hot Rod'" and been a champ about it. Maybe that's just because women think merch guys are sexy.
Adios. We're all crazy now.
{April 11} The most exciting boring day you'll ever have.
It started with St. Louis. We stopped here, en route to Omaha for our last show, for a number of reasons--actually too many to list at print time. Anyway, we stumbled off the bus looking for breakfast, our stomachs rumbling in anger. We were parked at a mall, epicenter for all restaurants sans breakfast. But somehow we found a place that still served french toast and bagel sandwiches for a few more minutes, and we filled our stomachs. A few of us wandered around the mall afterward, vaguely bored by the familiarity of the stores.
"www.VictoriasDirtySecret.net" for more information on Victoria Secret's environmentally damaging use of clearcutting for catalogs.
Or so that was told to me at the mall today by a bunch of dread-locked hippies holding caution tape around the front entrance.
And then nothing happened for a long, long time.
Until we met the Hershey's Kissmobile and the two drivers; Rod and Jimmy spent an hour doing karaoke from the Kissmobile's onboard karaoke system; and we befriended the two and went to dinner with them, coming up terribly short with our check. Thanks Melissa and Amanda, for the packages of Hershey's Peanut Butter and a few good laughs, a tour of a "Kissmobile" and, above other things, entertaining Rod and Jimmy, although you surely lost entertainment way before they did.
As for anything else of importance...there is nothing. We'll see you in Omaha. And then we are going home.
{April 8} My identity has become public knowledge, somehow. How did this happen, I wonder? There must be a rat somewhere. We must flush him out. Who could this be...?
In other news, we just played Charleston. It is officially the hottest room we have ever played in. It was a furnace. It is a furnace. I think we all partially cooked in that room; we came out medium-rare. Maybe even medium. But in actuality, we love playing this room...and this city, so far. We've been here a couple times now, and barring any natural disasters (which seemed eminent a few hours before we played as the winds blew and the trees knuckled over) we'd love to come back.
Tomorrow is a rare occasion on this tour, a day off. A few of the boys are heading off to an "invite-only" golf course to play a few holes. Apparently, it's "one of the best" courses. The others in the band wouldn't know, or wouldn't care truthfully. So they will head into town, to see the immense history that Charleston has to offer. With buildings over 400 years old, how could you not want to be nerdy and learn about history?
We're coming home soon. Just a few more shows left. If they could be like tonight in Charleston, we'd all be (fat) and happy, content with another tour under our belts. Until then, my friends...
{April 5} It's been a long time, right? We've had a good time time since we last spoke, though. A quick rundown:
We went to New York to do a morning show. We were up for about 24 hours straight that day, starting the day off at a brisk 4:30 a.m. Brian, our crew guy/fill-in tour manager for the night started his "day(?)" at 2:15 a.m. Nice.
We then went to Chicago and had a day off, spent with a few loved ones and a beloved city. We also played a sold-out show at the House of Blues with the most attentive, hospitable staff and a great room to play music in. The show was fun, for sure.
The next day we had an acoustic radio show at the House of Blues again, for radio listeners. Perhaps the opposite atmosphere of the night before, but nonetheless a good time. It was loose, it was chill. We could all use those moments.
Then: Brian, the bowler, the tech, the bearded guy, dragged us to another bowling alley and won six Chipotle burritos from Joe in the second, double-or-nothing match between the two. David bowled the best game in his life (which still isn't saying much), and Rod (our merch guy) threw consecutive gutter balls.
Last night we had a show in Louisville, Kentucky. A marked occasion: our last night on tour, officially, with Mat Kearney. Of course we had to let him know how much we loved him, so we spit spit wads through straws at him for the majority of the show and then hoisted him on our shoulders as he finished. He's a good egg, and he's gonna do well. We're hoping for the best for Mat.
The show was fun and Louisville has a cool, old-world rural vibe to it. And it has a lot of bourbon. Maybe those are ordered differently.
But never long in one city, we're off to Las Vegas today to play a private show. We'll only be there, of course, for less than two days and we're back in the swings of things in Farmville, VA. If you can be in the swing of things in Farmville, VA...
Talk to you again, when we have internet, when we have a moment, when we have new news.
{March 29} We sit in a darkened room, illuminated by a few unflattering halogen lamps and the screens of our computers. We sit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, waiting for a sound check and dinner buyout. Such is our life.
And this editor's computer has begun to die, slowly. Pray the blog does not suffer.
Last night we had a show in Indianapolis, and it went well. Birdy's (the club we played at) was...good...in that sort of way. But there was ample energy and we played all right, even if the stage felt the size of a small closet.
And now we have a show at a bigger room, called the Intersection, in Grand Rapids. From the looks of it (from my vantage point) it seems like a good room, although the ceiling is so low it's eerily reminiscent of a basement.
We'll rock out, though. Trust us.
Tomorrow we go visit our hip-hop roots in Detroit. Gonna go say hi to our relatives on 8 Mile. You know Jimmy? You don't know Jimmy like Detroit knows Jimmy. Denver ain't seem "Jimmy".
{March 25} We're being teased. The gods must have it out for us, because we are home right now. But not for long, and not nearly long enough. We'll take what we can get, however, and enjoy it as much as we can.
Speaking of enjoyment, last night's show in Kansas City was enjoyable, to say the least. The show was sold out (or nearly, I'm not sure) with a healthy smattering of people who screamed a lot and sang along. The rust from the first show had worn off and we played well and the people loved it. We even had a few diehards from the night before travel the three, four hours to see us again. A couple of them said the show last night was better. So we took their word for it.
But we're home now. The mountains always look better when you haven't seen them in a week. At least that's how we feel. Can't say the same for the folks who live in, say, Iowa. Maybe the...farm...looks better to them after a week. Regardless, there's no place like home, right?
Show tomorrow night in Ft. Collins, the hometown of Colorado State University. We're playing some massively-sized arena where the school plays their basketball games, and we are excited as we are nervous. Arena? Who are we, Coldplay? No comments please. But it should be fun and we'll likely see some familiar faces.
Until the next time, peace out doggz.
{March 24} We're back on the road. Back in the saddle. On the road again. Rollin', rollin', rollin'. Head em' up, move 'em out, RAWHIDE!
And we played a show last night in St. Louis, the first of the this new leg of touring. And it was a great show with energy to spare. The room was cool (and nice, as far as venues are concerned) and we filled the floor, a solid thousand people.
More importantly, we have a new home on the road this time around. A new bus--and it's amazing. It's nearly fresh out of the factory, red and shiny and leathery. This, I suppose, attracted more people, because after our show a hoard of crazy people had crowded around the taped-off (think: Police crime scene) square for the bus. We were bombarded, assaulted by a multitude of ill-prepared people (it was a cold night with lots of goose bumps) waiting, waiting for their autographs and pictures. Whatever, right?
Now we have a show tonight in Kansas City, at a place called the Madrid Theater. If you didn't put it together, it's got a Spanish flair and bathroom signs in Espanol. This can be only so helpful.
We're all getting rather tired of this cold weather, and frankly could use springtime to show it's face. It's nearly April and we are all wearing jackets inside. Injustice!
We'll write soon--from our great state of Colorado, where we will play again.
{March 3} As plains roll past, as the hum and rattle of diesel engines whir on both sides, the horizon dotted with still life farm houses, we make our way home. Today is the final day of this tour, and what a great tour it's been.
A tour with lots of gaff tape and green nipples.
Can I say that?
Last night was officially the last show of this tour, a pair of shows at the Varsity Theater in Minneapolis. Actually, it's a part of town called "Dinkytown." The poor soul who coined that phrase. But the shows were great. The first of the two was a challenge, and early crowd who maybe hadn't finished dinner yet and were upset that the concert interrupted it. Regardless, the second show was unofficially the most fun at a show any of us have had in a long time. We pranked, and were pranked. Boys danced with gaff tape underwear and shots of Jack Daniels were delivered via Cary Brothers and friends on stage. An coin-operated rocking horse failed, four men danced with life-sized foam skeletons, and a small disco ball appeared numerous times throughout the show. If you were there to see it all go down, it was a hell of a show. If you were, maybe someday...
But now the fun ends.
Or begins? We're driving our last haul with Mike, the best bus driver this side of the MIssissippi. He's been more than gracious and a lot of fun to have.
Last night we said our goodbyes to Cary Brothers and crew. Over the course of five (give or take a few days) weeks, they have been both extremely entertaining and helpful. After all, we're just a bunch of young punks trying to make a living at this. And they're a bunch of old punks already doing it for a dozen years. It was great all around.
We said goodbyes to Mat Kearney also; however, they weren't terribly serious goodbyes because he plays with us at the Paramount. So, no tears yet.
We're coming home again Colorado. See you in a few.
{March 1} Well, a new month is here and with that Isaac's voice seems to have returned (for the moment, and we've got our fingers and toes crossed). But Chi-town's always been good to us, so we're banking on that and praying for the best.
Last night we had a signing party at Borders Uptown in Chicago, at which we were supposed to play but didn't due to the sickness. The sickness has taken hold of everyone, at one point or another along this crazy ride. It's even got Jimmy twice now. No mercy. This sickness is the real deal. But the party went well, quite a few people showed up, and we got a free book out of the deal.
Tonight we play the Metro. This place has a lot of history and even more credibility, with indie rock greats' posters lining the hallways and walls of the venue. But the stage feels great, and in about an hour (from time of publication, mind you) we will take the stage and rock and roll all night, and party e-very-day.
The tour is winding down. And it has been vastly successful and a whole lot of fun for us. We've had some great highlights and, proudly, nothing to complain about. We'll be home at the end of this week, with a few days of rest before our big Paramount show on the 10th of March. Then we'll be off again before you know it, likely to a city near you (if not actually near you, then somewhat near you. We can't cater to everyone. Besides, who wants to go to Lincoln, anyway?).
Wish us luck. Think of Isaac and his crazy, horrible, no good, very bad vocal chords. And think of Jimmy. Today we found an "Okay Meter" backstage, some piece of broken equipment with a label affixed to it reading, "Okay Meter." We just hope it registers tonight, because if it doesn't...you all know what that means.
{February 26} We had a little bit of a heartbreak last night. Isaac had been valiantly staving off cold and sickness for an entire tour, saving his voice from the elements. But last night it got a hold of him half way through the set, and now we have a poor, sick singer and a cancelled show.
Unfortunately, we won't play in Toronto.
Isaac had the audience (who were dear sports) sing the last few songs nearly for him, and was given a rousing applause for his effort to keep the songs going. We all felt for him.
So we're on our way to Chicago now, with a stop at Niagra. We'll take some time off the bus, give Isaac some time away from the cess pool that is the bus. We might even visit a doctor on the way if needed.
Crazy stuff.
We'll update you later. Until then, we're going to go stare a big waterfall and run around in the snow.
{February 24} About time.
Washington D.C. is a neat place. Or maybe just the 9:30 Club. Or maybe both. We'll say both, for now.
But last night at the 9:30 Club was a great evening. There were 1200 people, singing loud and proud in one of the coolest rooms we've been in. We don't know exactly where everyone came from--we don't have radio airplay, really, in this city--but they came and we laughed and cried and oh, how the years go by...
And the night before was New York City, which is always fun. And the room was great too, the Bowery Ballroom. We had a whole bunch of our Sony family come out and see the show. And of course, being in New York, we spent the entire day before doing business-like things, and then the morning of the show doing more business-like things. Never enough to see the city. It's the greatest city in the world. All you want to do is spend time in it, immersed in it, saturated in city noise and cab horns and the smell of pretzels.
So now we're off to Philly, for some cheese steaks. And a show. But more importantly, cheese steaks. Apparently, however, the TLA (Theater for the Living Arts) is a great room and we're all excited to play again tonight. There should be a healthy smattering of people and another hot (temperature, temperature) room.
Listening to Jon Brion, riding in the bus.
Complaining we got up too early.
Eating cereal from a dixie cup.
Playing music at 11 a.m.
Goodbye, for now.
{February 19} It's cold everywhere! What happened to our beautiful temperate skies, clear blue with warm winds and the sun out for hours upon hours. It has been replaced by frigid, deceiving skies and piles of crusty snow. There's snow in Nashville, dammit. I didn't think it snowed here. I also thought the leprechauns on St. Patrick's Day were real, too, until a few years ago.
But we'll deal, because we are homegrown Colorado boys with winter in our blood (and in our fleece jackets).
We played Atlanta last night, which went surprisingly well. Radio has been slow to catch on down there, but we sold the show out anyway, a feat our friendly Sony rep Charlie was very excited about. And it was a good (and unbelievably hot) show. Literally, it could have been 120 degrees in that room; so it felt that way, anyway.
Tonight we play Nashville, sold out as well, in a smaller room that we actually played quite some time back. But we're excited nonetheless as it hopefully will be just as fun. But then again, it's like the Arctic out here and that's not fun. It's fun like golf's fun.
We've been gone for a few days, spending the past couple days at home, rejuvenating. It was a much needed rest too. We hadn't experienced the rigor of playing headlining shows for two weeks straight, sometimes six in a row, and it was good to clear our heads. But those same heads are back in the game now. Back in the game! Zero-zero! Fourth quarter! Cover those wide outs!
The bus is an icebox right now as well. My fingers are beginning to freeze to the keys. Somebody turn on the heat, now! And turn up the sun.
{February 12} But you actually won't read this until sometime on the 13th, if that. Does anyone read this anymore? I feel I am writing to my other personality. Wait, I didn't say that.
Last night was Phoenix, in the great state of Arizona. And not as hot as you'd expect, either: it is quite pleasant in these parts in all seasons but summer. But from roughly May until September, you've got lots of heat and scorpians and gila monsters and cactus. There is this "jumping cactus," as people call it, "choro" (to use correct nomenclature) that is somehow attracted to you (don't ask me how) and it literally jumps close distances to your skin. It hurts like nothing else. Stay away from the choro.
But the show: the show was great, to a packed house of six hundred or so fans in a place called the Brickhouse. It was a grand old time, a hot and sweaty time, and everyone seemed to enjoy it.
Tonight we are in Tucson, David's stomping grounds. He was born here, but that was a long time ago, and it's been a while since any of us have set foot in Tucson (unfortunately, forever for some). But it's exciting already: the line pre-show was an entire city block, then curving and starting up another corner of the square. We were moved to a bigger venue, across the street from the original. The Club Congress, where we were going to be, is in the Hotel Congress, which is a cool vintage hotel with a good little cafe and (apparently) a good venue. But we won't know. Because we're at the Rialto, ye-ah!
And after this we've got a fair share of driving to do. We play in Houston on Tuesday, so we've got to make it there by then. And Mike, our captain from Tennessee, will lead us there. With his random noises. O, the joys of being in close bus quarters.
Rock on, peeps.
Wut up.
{February 10} San Diego's a great city. And we only saw a few blocks.
But who couldn't like it? Perfect weather, great scenery. And you have a whole bunch of surf punk kids with long hair to bring attitude. It beats L.A., anyway.
We just played a show in San Diego, by the way. And it went well, maybe really well, given the circumstances. It was a very strange room with a very strange vibe in a very strange part of the neighborhood. Apparently, shows happen all the time here, but for some reason we just can't picture it.
And more importantly, it was Jimmy's birthday. We celebrated by going to Fuddruckers (watch your mouth) and getting some hamburgers (salads for those who have had "plenty" of burgers over the course of a few weeks) and brought a cake that was sent to Jimmy and shook hands with the waitress and had a beer or two and then played a show. We made some announcements, and of course, the peeps loved it.
Oh, and our show in L.A. was great, at the Troubadour. We were all stoked enough as it was to play in such a historic club, let alone to play a great show. The energy was there. The bigwigs (God bless 'em) were there also. It all came together.
We're off to Phoenix tomorrow. We have a couple shows in the Grand Canyon State (and David's home state, mind you), and surely it will be warm. It always is. It could be the dead of winter and 90 degrees, easy. It was almost 90 in L.A. Uncool, literally.
Talk to you soon. Sorry this blog thing has been so lazy. Oh well.
{February 7} Oh, dear, I'm sorry. It's been a few days now. A little more, actually. Truthfully, it just turned to the 7th an hour ago. Needless-to-say, it's late.
We finished in San Francisco. It was a great show and a great night. Our friends Mat and Cary played well and the audience loved it. Then we played and it was hot and sweaty and loud and we loved it and the people loved it too.
But since we've last talked, we played a couple shows, in Portland and in Seattle. Both were good shows. Portland's room was interersting, the Doug Fir Lounge, lined with supposedly "fir" logs and planks and beams. The stage felt eerily like a studio, very quiet and tame, but it was a good set regardless.
Both cities were raining, as expected. The band has mixed reviews of that weather. A few of us like it. A few of us can't stand it. I guess we've been raised on beautiful, abundant Colorado sunshine.
Leno's coming up. We're stoked for it, and to be honest, scared ****less. And in other news, Jimmy's birthday's coming up in a few days now. February 10 is the day of days.
Running out of ideas here.
Running...out...
Bye.
{February 2} We are terribly, terribly sorry for the show cancellation. But you try driving through this snow storm we hit.
We ended up in Baker City, Oregon. None of us knew a town by that name actually existed, and all the town we saw were a few restaurants and a Sinclair gas station. Look out for the restaurants in Baker City. That's all we can say.
So we trekked to Spokane early to spend some time with a handful of friends and family we have here. Both families were kind enough to let us vagrants stay at their homes overnight, opting for a true spring mattress over the bunks ten cubic feet of claustrophobic-ness. It's probably not even ten.
But we're excited about tonight's show--it's sold out. And we've found out recently that a good majority of this tour's show are sold out, and the rest hopefully will be come the day of. Truthfully, that is some of the most momentous, exciting news we've received yet. It means something's working, something's tangible. And that's a good thing.
It's rained here overnight, so it seems.
And before we go: Steve Clark, our "backline technician" as we'll refer to him (he's the guy running merch and teching for Dave and Joe on stage) has the best morning wake up combo of facial expression and hair of most anyone I've seen. He, and our other tech Brian. They make quite a duo.
{January 31} We are bus bound!
And in other news, the internet has officially started working again. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
We are all trying to find things to occupy our time. Some read, some play, some sit mindlessly in front of the "World's Wildest Police Chases," thinking all along how stupid it is yet never changing the channel.
Currently, we are in Idaho somewhere, making our slow rise to Seattle. Hit some snowy conditions outside of Cheyenne, so the drivers said, and therefore lost some ground early this morning. But we stopped at a funny little truck stop called Little America and had breakfast, served by some pleasant women who had obviously been up for a long time and had a few too many cups of coffee.
The mugs had a penguin on them. "Little America."
That's all for now. Vancouver's tomorrow night, if we make it through the border. Dem mounties.
{January 28, 2006} We have all made it home safely. Well, at least the people I know of.
Last night's show was a raucous good time, at a little club in Vail called 8150 (named after what? The elevation of the town...) It was a late one too, our set (and the evening) ending quarter after one or so. That's one in the morning, folks.
And a little fun fact about 8150: the stage, I believe, was built on some sort of big-scale mattress springs, or something, so when the crowd gets going--and it did for a few songs--the stage begins to rock like a sailboat. Isaac had a tough time avoiding the microphone as it easily came close to knocking him in the teeth a couple times.
Ski towns are fun. They are care free, relaxed places. Sometimes that makes it hard for the people in control (read: tour managers and the like) as phone calls are rarely ever returned. But it makes for a easy atmosphere and almost certainly a good time.
We have a weekend off. We definitely will NOT see each other in this weekend, as we'll be seeing plenty of the five of us over the course of a month and a half. But we are getting some good reports on sales and excitement for our shows coming up. Apparently LA, Chicago, and Minneapolis are sold out. DC and Milwaukee will be soon, or so the sources say. But alas, this poor column gets updates as soon as everyone else does. Chances are, things are different now.*
*Availability subject to change
So long, until the next time, which probably will be pretty soon.
{Janurary 26, 2006) Good day, dear readers; writing to your from sunny Aspen, Colorado, officially the first morning after of the first show of our first headlining tour. And it was our first Aspen show. A lot of firsts in the period of twelve hours. After going to bed at the usual "rockstar" hour, no one would normally be up at this hour of the day (too early to print), but the fact is that a couple inches of snow fell last night and we have tickets to the four Aspen mountains. So, ski pants on and long-underwear clad, a few of us are going to head out for a day of Colorado skiing (and riding). No state like this state!
This tour is going to be different. On Monday evening we have something totally unpredicted for us: a 45-foot bus picking us up for the rest of the tour. We all are so excited we're soiling ourselves. We don't deserve this yet, and it's only working with a little bit of luck, but we're happy nonetheless. Some of us might miss the van. Others, who had to sleep on the floor as it vibrated and oozed heat from the overworked engine, are counting the seemingly innumerable blessings.
We have a show in Vail tomorrow, at another cool mountain club. These towns are great: it seems like everyone is on some sort of vacation, whether it's the lifty on summer vacation from South America, or grimy local kids on a "permanent" vacation, or perhaps the uber-wealthy, on vacation from anything "down-to-earth." It takes a certain kind of person to live in these places, but everyone enjoys them.
The lifts are just starting to open. The sky is pure blue and spotless without clouds. It'll be a good day. Love to stay and chat, but I've got mountains to play on.
{November 22, 2005} City of Angels, thou art beautiful in earthly ways. I have seen with thine own eyes the glory and magnificence of thy bounty.
Talking to our manager the other day, we think this city needs an overhaul. There could be some sort of mass exodus, taking thousands upon thousands of West Hollywood residents to the middle of Idaho, and in return filling the homes and streets of this place with wholesome country folk. It'd be interesting, to say the least.
In other news, the tour has officially ended. In truth, it ended a night ago in Austin at the Bass Concert Hall at the University of Texas. The show was a success, although the general feeling in air following was nearly an anti-climax: had we been waiting for it to be over, longing and pining of seeing our family and friends? Had we built it up? Who knows. But we're in LA now, preparing to shoot the Late Late Show tonight, our first late night television appearance. We're all stoked--and a little a petrified.
This tour, in its entirety, has been eye-opening. We have been on the road longer than any time in our lives. We have soldiered through homesickness and physical sickness alike. And we came out on the other end completely jaded and chain-smoking.
But wouldn't that be great if we did?
Thanks to all the Ben Folds crew, Joe and Leo and Michael. A few occasions aside, the past month or so has been entirely laid back, easing us into the life of a touring band. And thanks to the Jared and Lindsey, their willingness to have a quick chat with any of us as we passed. Perhaps in another life none of us would play music, and we would meet a hip Nashville bar and have a few drinks and talk about life like friends. Wishful thinking? Next time we're in Nashville...
And thanks to Ben himself, the volumes we knew of him and the little we spoke to him. Musically, you have inspired us all--you did even before we played the same stage as you. And your shows are lessons in balance and an all around good time. Why not laugh and cry at the same show?
We are all clearly delusional and disgustingly tired. If y'all could see us, we'd look close to death. One of us was clinically dead for the first half of yesterday.
But we'll soldier through this final test and then be "leavin', on a jet plane," and be in Colorado's arms in no time.
(November 18, 2005) This edition's coming to you straight from the roads of the Lone Star state. We have just finished a show at Numbers, an... interesting venue in Houston and now are en route to Dallas. We've got a show just outside there tomorrow, and then Austin, then LA, and then turkey and pumpkin pie and potatoes and cranberry sauce and cider.
Our travels have been interesting the past few days. We routed ourselves past New Orleans and other areas that were devasted by the hurricanes. The scene, even now months after the events, is suprisingly surreal. Hundreds of work trucks dot the freeways and shoulders, cleaning debris from the roads and repairing signs. Damage is evasive, regardless of the extent. Thousands of homes are scarred with blue tarps covering damaged roofing. Almost unbelievable, really, as if you've walked onto a movie set accidentally and a few days from the crew will pack up and move location, returning everything to its intended calm.
We are all tired as well. We have been touring for the longest stretch in our career, and it has worn us. We love it, of course. But the families and friends and love that wrap us in warmth have become needed more as we feel chilled.
Talk to y'all soon.
{November 15, 2005} What's happened? A whole week's gone by, that's what.
"Why haven't you written one, you slacker?"
"Sorry."
"What are you good for?"
"Sorry."
Jimmy's sitting beside the editor right now, making him terribly uncomfortable. He told the editor to "keep writing or else," although the editor needs to let Jimmy know that his hands begin to tremble and sweat with another man that close to him.
Another thing: Jimmy got schooled in gin the other night by Joe. He lost a Starbucks. Everything lately in this band revolves around that corporate monster. We're all addicted. It's hard...,dto wriited,..soemthignmes withoudstsd it.
In other news: we've played a few more shows, the most memorable lately being that of Nashville, TN at the historic Ryman Auditorium. After our come down from, officially, the "biggest show of our lifetime" (Radio City, by the way), we were relaxed and in tune (get it?). The Ryman felt and sounded great, the reception and the humidity warm. And Dave's parents flew in to support, a little taste of home, away from home. We have also played our own show in Chattanooga, TN, to a warm intimate crowd of under 300, at a good little bar called Rythmn and Brews (see, it was connected to a big microbrew and they served beer. Get it?). It was loads of fun, considering we got to play more than our stock forty-five minutes.
What else? We're in Atlanta at the moment, waiting to place a great venue called the Tabernacle. During the Summer Games years back, the Tabernacle was turned into a House of Blues for performances by the likes of, say, Elton John. So...we're humbled to play this stage.
We have a show coming up in Greenville, SC and then a wonderfully long drive to the great state of Texas, to play a trio of shows; then to L.A., to do a Late Late Show taping with that Scottish guy, and then we are back home. How sweet it will be. We can taste it now. I smell the pines of the mountains, the fresh scent of a winter's morn, a distant rustle of tree branches as silhouettes trot through a pillow of snowfall.
Sorry, that got away from me.
{November 8, 2005} We've gone for a little while. We've got some catching up to do: how have you been? Oh really? That's great.
Well, we've been great too. We've played a few shows since, a few colleges and a few theaters. We've also been spending some much needed time off in the Big Apple. But I shouldn't skip around. You need to know what's happened. The public must know!
Shows: just after we left you we played the Electric Factory in Philly, after eating a cheese steak or two. It was a good room, a big room, and probably the best we've played musically in a long time. We all had too much on our mind beforehand; we needed a huddle, and promised to leave everything offstage, or better, use it onstage. Whatever we did, in whichever manner, worked. We came off the stage with an incredible high that makes living this crazy life in a new city ever night worth it.
This isn't to say that the other shows work against us, but it was like hitting a grand slam. And we're big into sports so we use a lot of sports analogies.
Later in the third quarter, we played a college in Meadville, PA, and a college in Schenectady, NY. That city has a fun name to say: we had to practice it in the van en route. Of course, no one at the school got the name right either. Or was that the excessive alcohol talking in all of them?
Anyway: we played too in Boston, and what a wonderful city it is. Saturated in history, the walls and doors and cobblestone streets speak in centuries. The show went well, although on the spectrum of things, it was a very technically frustrating show. After we boarded our 15-passenger Bentley and rolled into NYC. After being pulled over for being on a "parkway" and not an "expressway", where vans, trailers, semis, cargo is allowed, we had a day of relaxing on Sunday, the start of our "vacation."
But then came Monday, the Monday to end all Mondays. The kind of Monday where you're hit five times with a "case of the Mondays." And by then it's only noon. A morning show appearance, an on-camera interview, a sound check, two meet and greets, a college interview, a show at Radio City, a backstage acoustic performance, and then a big family dinner. But Radio City, the pinnacle of the day's events, was spectacular. It is an amazing place--half of us had never stepped foot in the place. We played as well as our scared little hearts could allow, and everyone seemed to think we done good, too.
That's all for now. We've got a day or two left of this vacation business, and then it's work work work for a few more weeks. We'll get back to you in a few days, promise.
{November 1, 2005} Halloween has come and gone. Happy belated Halloween. What a great day it is, always.
We did dress up though, which made up for it. We arrived in Elmira (Elvira?) with time to spare, and we all knew we needed some costumes. We had a native take us to a few costume shops and came away with some modestly good costumes. A horsehead, a nurse's uniform, a French girl wig/beret, a 70s detective, and Ben Folds (the costume, that is). We'll let you, dear reader, figure out which one of us was which. But the show went well, the crowd was great, and we all got a decent amount of sleep (which was much needed).
Today we drove from Elmira to Philadelphia, city of brotherly love. We all ate something before we left, be it enough or not, and when we arrived at 5 pm, not only did it feel like dinner time, but our stomach's told us it was. Mark insisted we go to Pat's Steaks, one of the three renowned cheesesteak joints in the city. It was the...not-so-great part of town, and you have to sit outside, but it was close to perfect. Wait for the review at some point in the near future...
We're putting together some tour dates for ourselves for a later time. We can't tell you when, or even where necessarily (we could, but we don't want to ruin the anticipation), only that it will busy and big and boy! will it be fun. No, really, it will.
One final note: we have a new guitar tech, you may or may not know (or remember), named Brian. He's a good guy, nice, polite, with a good sense of humor. A while back we purchased a pair of handcuffs, not knowing when or where they would be put to use. All we knew is that it would involve him. Well, it came on Halloween (spooky, right?). At the precise moment as planned, Isaac called him on stage, faking a problem with his monitors. Immediately Jimmy and David jumped him, Brian caught off guard and frantic. With a little effort we hand-cuffed him to the keyboard stand and kept him there for the majority of Over My Head. We, of course, the humanitarians that we are, handed him the keys and he pried himself free to the crowd's uproar. Only on Halloween.
And Isaac's on vocal rest, using illegal slave labor to translate his whisperings. Shh...
{October 29, 2005} I know it's been a long time coming, starting up this blog and all. To be honest, we've been pretty busy but that isn't the reason: the problem lies in loaning your computer to someone to use, and the subsequent borrowing and borrowing you must do to get a hold of a similar computer.
Since we last spoke, we've played a few more shows. The Madison show went well, to an energetic audience in an energetic college town, a lot like a bigger Bloomington, Indiana, our home away from home--where we spent six weeks recording our album, in case you forgot. Then came Chicago, which was a magnificantly ornate theater dubbed the Chicago Theater, perhaps the prettiest, grandest place we've ever been in. It felt like a giant cathedral with majestic golds and painted murals surrounding a huge, domed ceiling. Only the paintings were not of Biblical figures but of the gods, Roman and Greek myths looking down on us. Thank Zeus, we all said.
And then came Kalamazoo, which was grand in a different way. The crowd was wonderful, singing along louder than any previous in the end, a nearly full capacity on their feet. But the auditorium felt like some giant conference room, for the world's largest Power Point presentation. Oh well. With the lights down and 3000-some odd people cheering, we could play on a landfill.
We drove straight through the night to arrive in Rochester, NY, the scene of a much needed (and rare to come) day off. It was spent doing exactly what days off should be filled with: sleeping in a late, eating late, watching movies, and wholly keeping our minds from music as much as possible. Ben, David, and Brian went and saw "The Curse of the Were-Rabbit," four years in the making. It was a rowdy, fun time, nearly harmless and mostly enjoyable. Joe went and saw "Elizabethtown," but the rest of us haven't heard on his verdict of it. And Isaac drove to Canada, denounced all material posessions, and swore to never again return.
We have a show tomorrow night in Brockport, NY, a suburb, it seems, of Rochester at the State University of New York (SUNY for all y'all). After that, we're off to Elmira, NY, where we'll play a Halloween show with Ben and Phantom Planet. We're still deciding what to be for Halloween; Jimmy shaved all his beard but a terrible handlebar mustache. We have no idea what he's going to try to pull off, but it will likely be one for the history books. He looks amazing already.
Signing off. Be back soon.
{October 27, 2005} So we've started this whole whirlwind adventure now, and we're sitting in Madison, WI at the moment, recovering from a near fatal run-in with insects at a local Mexican food joint. I don't know if it would be terribly insensitive to say that that scenario doesn't surprise me, but regardless, our stomachs are queasy and our minds are playing tricks on us.
In other news, we played our first show of the "real tour" last night in Minneapolis, MN in front of a somewhat hometown crowd (Jimmy, our bassist is from Edina, not too far from the downtown). There was some guy shouting "Jimmy!" or "Stoffer!" the whole evening, but we didn't mind much—at least we felt loved. And the show went over well, to be expected on the first date of the tour: a few bumps to be smoothed over, but nothing critical.
On top of that, we visited a few radio stations along the way, one of which was a great public rock radio station called The Current, 89.3. We listened to it the rest of the day. It's like an iPod on shuffle, essentially, but from someone with a really good taste in music (which is, of course, subjective, but we won't get into that). Ben had some dinner with a friend a cool little Irish pub next door to the venue, the scene (at a later time in the evening) of a hit-and-run with a pedestrian and a car. But the woman was all right—she actually stood herself and walked to the ambulance. And also: a woman outside the venue started talking crazy talk to us as we were leaving, saying something about how well we equally represented men and women in our music (?). We just nodded, told her thanks for coming, and got quietly into our van…
And David has a full-on, terrible, no-good cold.
Tonight, in just a few hours, we'll play here in Madison, and then we're off to Chicago—which will be good. There are a lot of folks we know in Chicago, and sometimes it give the impression of home, even if that just means shacking up in our manager's basement.
So long for now. Peace out, yo.
First blog (not sure when to date it).
Well, well, well. Wasn't sure I'd see all you again. And look at you, you old grizzly bear.
I've been remiss about keeping up to date: I was planning to start once the "real" tour started, but the man got on me and said, "Write something, and fast." So, under obligation and nothing more, I write to you, dear readers.
We have played three shows with Ben Folds so far, however none of them in any of our minds part of "the tour." The first was a strange show in Birmingham, AL. We played in a tent that looked like a wedding reception setup, and sounded as good. It was BYOB so all the frat boys wheeled in tagged coolers with "Alpha Kappa Zulu" or "Tango Bravo Phi" and other orders and chugged all night long. And then we left.
The second show was significantly better, at the Savannah College of Art & Design in GA. Fell in love with the little town, felt "unhip" due to nonverbal pressure from the tragically "hip" art students, and played to a great crowd and were well received. We all said that if the shows were going to be like this, we'd happily keep playing.
And our final show was in Indy, and Butler College, a beautiful private school with a world-class dance program. We almost lost Isaac to it, actually. If you've never asked or heard about Isaac's dancing days, tap him on the shoulder next time and get ready. The auditorium was amazing, a 3000+ (maybe) venue with one of the best sound systems out there. And we played well. And Ben played better. And the crowd liked us both. And then we drove home in 18 hours.
What did we do between these dates, you ask. A lot of radio promo, running ourselves ragged back and forth to different stations in different states, very numbing in that van of ours. And then we came home and played a wickedly fun show at UNC, our first time to them parts. And it does smell. Two-thirds into our set, the odor came triumphantly through the air ducts and filled the room. But we soldiered on.
We'll get back to you when "the tour" starts.
{July 22, 2005} It's been rumored that... Weezer f****** rocks.
This final blog goes out to the fab four who allowed us to tour with them for the past three weeks. So, individually, we have thanks for them:
To Rivers:
Thanks for the pear. Who knew we'd get something in return. And thanks for the entertainment: it was never dull to watch you, both on and off stage.
To Scott:
Thanks for being outgoing, for saying a quick "hello" in the halls. Thanks for the tatoos, pretty sweet dude. And say hi to Warren for us.
To Brian:
Thanks for the mystery. You finally gave David a reason not to feel he has to say as much as say, Isaac. And thanks for the mini Moog. Wicked.
To Pat:
Thanks for the affirmation that a family can happen on the road. Thanks also to your wife, Jen, for allowing a few of the guys to see just how that happens. And thanks for the drum heads and key.
This has been an experience of a lifetime. We all want to go home of course, to see our friends and family and to kiss our loved ones. To play for a home crowd. To see the mountains, again. But we all can easily say that if we had the opportunity to play another three weeks with these guys, someone would have to pay a handsome sum of money not to do it. It had been amazing and surprisingly easy. The band and crew made us feel welcomed and important, even though sometimes we were the opener for the opener.
We go home tonight, a long drive ahead of us that will deliver us to our home hopefully sometime tomorrow afternoon, barring any natural disasters or freak accidents. Which is actually really morbid to think about, so we'll think of happy things.
We'll miss you Weezer. We're coming home Colorado. And you can keep your humidity, Florida.
El Fray.
{July 21, 2005--part 2} We're making up for lost time, not talking to y'all in so long. Y'all. You stay in Nashville long enough, you start talking that way. Just look at Steve, our tech. It took him all of a few hours to go full circle into his southern slang again. He sounded...cool.
Anyway, Weezer's on right now. "Woah oh oh oh, woah oh oh oh, woah oh oh oh oh oh oh."
Ben (Folds, you know him? We're on a first name basis around here. Rivers, Ben, etc.) finished a half hour ago. What a show. The man is a pure showman, nonstop entertainment for forty-five minutes. Pounding on his piano, standing on the lid, conducting the crowd in a three part harmony over and over...it's great. It makes music fun and interactive. Plus, he's a Nashville native, so he's even got a bit of an accent. That makes him just a bit cooler.
We're driving here in a few minutes. Pray that we make it. Another long one.
"My name is Jonas!"
Later on. Fray = Benavidissacoe.
{July 21, 2005} We've been away for quite some time. Here's why (allow me to share with you):
To all hotels not offering wireless internet?
Why?
To all hotels not offering free internet?
Why, again?
To all hotels not doing either?
Why? Why? Why?
To the guys who set up WeezerNet:
Thanks for saving the day a few times.
Alright, done. It's just a sad thing, really. We passed a few hotels the other day on I-85--the word "hotel" in this case is very generous. More like a "rundown, one-story building with rat-chewed mattresses and cockroaches the size of tugboats." However, what did they advertise on their unlit roadside signs? FREE WIRELESS! Case-in-point.
So, since the last time we spoke (honestly, it's been so long I don't remember when that was), we played a couple shows and drove a couple long days. Our first show that you haven't heard about was at the Windjammer on the Isle of Palms in South Carolina, a bridge away from Charleston. Two words for this show: f***** amazing! It felt like home. Unbelievable crowd and energy. It revitalized us (as if we'd been out for SO long as it was). Honestly, as fun as it has been to play with Weezer, playing to 450 people who know you and have come to hear you is like nothing else. It felt like home and we were over 1000 miles away. Thanks, Charleston.
Of course, after this show we drove over 8 hours to Orlando, FL, arriving at 9:30 in the morning. That put a slight damper on the enthusiasm from the night before, mainly because trying to sleep on a metal van floor above the exhaust pipe isn't the most soothing experience. But oh well. We arrived.
And it was hot there. It was hot in Charleston. It was hot in Myrtle Beach. (And frankly, it's hot here in Nashville.) But no matter--we relaxed that day, catching up on much needed sleep. All we had to do that day was play at the MTV-taped Hard Rock Live show. It was a Weezer show, of course, so not too much energy was put into us, which probably lessened the nerves that could have come with something like that. It went by quickly, only playing six songs.
There, however, they had run out of space for our dressing room. So--to someone's credit--the powers that be decided to put us up in the basement. Of course, there were no "rooms" per se in the basement, so they put two walls of black curtain and piping up amidst the cases of bottled water and extra stacking chairs. Not four walls, two walls. Yes, it was great.
So then we drove all of yesterday, over six hundred miles from Orlando to Nashville. We ate at a great down home restaurant in Atlanta for dinner and met up with some of Ben's extended family. But it had to be short and sweet. We're a traveling band. Gotta go places. Go see faces. And now we're here, in Nashville.
We play tonight another short-n-sweet set, opening for Ben Folds and Weezer this time. We're all stoked to see Ben tonight, and hopefully will get a word with him or so, some preliminary greetings for the tour to come. It'll be another late night too, as we're off to St. Louis after the show, an approximate six hour drive. Seeing as we'll get in at nearly 4 a.m., you all will likely have to wait for another update. There's nothing anyone wants to do at that hour but crawl into bed. If we can make it that far.
fray.
{July 17, 2005} We've been away for a while. Not on purpose, of course. We're sorry. We can't get used to this distance.
Since we last talked, we played a show in Atlantic City at the Borgata Casino, had a day off in Myrtle Beach, SC, and are now preparing to play at the House of Blues here in Myrtle Beach. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
The Borgata is beautiful and glistening in its newness. I don't think our shower head had even had water through it yet. The casino was kind enough to let us shack up there the night after the show. The place is huge. Half of us got lost trying to find the guest room elevators. The show went well, if a little confusing at times. We ended slightly early, which is a bit of a opener faux pas. We played our heart out though; musically, it was as good as it's been.
Some of the band (those of age, of course) then made a night of it and hit up the casinos. When in Rome... Those of us who were simply retreated to our rooms and went to bed early. Either way, it was a good night.
We had a horribly slow, long drive from Atlantic City to our condo in Myrtle Beach. ETA was 4 a.m. or so. We left Atlantic City at around 1 p.m., the day before. Ouch.
However...
We scored a day off yesterday, spending four or five hours at the beach, tossing a frisbee, bodysurfing, sunbathing (or burning, depending our complexion) and anything "beach." Not to say it was "deserved," because frankly we'd been on the road ten days and nothing's really "deserved" after that. But it was much needed, and will be with our wickedly late drive from Charleston to Orlando coming up. We'll all remember the beach as we watch the sunrise from a 15-passenger bench seat.
We'll let you know how the show went tonight in a bit. We're off to Charleston to play a headlinging show at a cool little place called the Windjammer, or so we've been told it's cool. WE'LL be the judge of that... Until then.
Fray, The.
{July 13, 2005} "Thank you, Long Island."
Drove through the morning last night, and it sure was early when we checked into the Radisson hotel on Long Island. Approximately 5 a.m., actually: there's nothing stranger than going to bed as the sun's coming up.
But let's catch up on business first: the Lewiston show went great, our first long, 45-minute set of our tour. To add to the suspense of it all, we didn't get a sound check. Just the man upstairs keeping us on our toes, that's all. But the crowd was young and energetic and it came out in the performances: Rivers moved around that night. It was a memorable night.
We allowed ourselves some much needed rest, not leaving the hotel until the early afternoon. Got to the venue: of course, another small-country-sized room. Slightly intimidating. Slightly frightening. Mostly exciting. From when we arrived until when we went on, we did very little, seeing as the sound check tonight was also all but canned--union rules, you know how it goes. Gotta be off that stage precisely at dinner time. Very strict. Very serious. No joking around, EVER.
But while we're on the subject of dinner, something happened tonight. Perhaps the most exciting moment of the tour yet. As we ate together with some friends and band-family "relatives," we noticed Rivers sitting at a table near to our group. Isaac and Dave met at the fruit and vegetable bar and deemed it necessary to somehow thank the band for allowing us on this tour, and in some form relating to said fruits. Wait! The word "Thanks" could be inscribed in big, block letter on the peel of a banana, they thought, and thus it became so. Isaac, being the outgoing boy that he is, simply walked to River's table and handed him the banana. Rivers looked at it and said something to the effect of, "Oh, a thanks-banana." A few smiles were exchanged and the meal continued as scheduled, as if nothing had or would happen.
However...
Whilst in the midst of our set, a certain aforementioned lead singer to a certain rock & roll group was said to have visited our dressing room, asking if it was the correct room. When we returned from the stage, on the mirror's ledge on the side of the room was a humble pear with the etching: "Your Welcome, Love Weezer."
What good guys. They'll be more fruit to come, trust us.
Goodnight then.
{July 12, 2005} "I need to find some peace..."
Rivers is sound-checking right now. Still haven't met him.
Alright, so we're in Maine. And Maine is gorgeous. The quintessential American East Coast. Beautiful pale and sea-water bleached homes, cobblestone streets, and the whip of sails on the ocean. We all decided very quickly that one could live here, no problem.
At the time of press, as they like to say, we are about to play in Lewiston, ME, about 35 miles inland. Last night we stayed in Portland, a beautiful coastal town. We woke up and drove from Montreal, through the Quebec country-side; stopped by a radio station in the Boulder, CO-esque college town of Burlington, Vermont and played a few songs on-air. We rocked so hard that we blew their preamps and there was dead air for about 5 seconds. After that, Isaac sounded like he was in signing in a frozen corn can (frozen corn's the key). But it was all good--the station folks were great.
We then high-tailed it to Portland, aiming to be on time to see our good friend/producer's band God or Julie play at this little place called the the Ale House. Of course, a few unnamed members of the band ARE NOT 21, and therefore couldn't watch them. Apparently they rocked the house. It was good to see him though. Across the street was a fine little pool hall with three dart boards in it. Aaron Johnson, our producer, and Dave threw a few games for old time's sake. Portland's a good dart town, for anyone who cares.
Crazy thing was this: while in the bar, following the new Incubus single from the Stealth soundtrack, lo and behold: our song, on the air in Portland. It was great. Aaron goes to the bartender and ask to turn it, the band is right here, and points to us.
The bartender says, "Oh, the Fray?"
Wicked cool.
Anyway, wish us luck tonight and go buy the soundtrack to Stealth. If you'll notice, in the humble number nine slot, your boys have a song. The soundtrack's all right. Incubus has some new material that was written solely for the film, so hopefully the soundtrack will do well.
Later, from Lewiston.
{July 10, 2005} Montreal's a lot like Paris. Not that we've ever been to Paris.
What we're saying is: they speak French here, and lots of it. That could be good or bad. This morning it was good, because we found a great bistro to have a nice Sunday brunch. You know, you gotta do things to keep connected with normal living when you're living "la vida loca," as they say. Warm pastries and croissants. Creamy omelettes and rich coffee. And darn good frites.
Got to the venue early and sat around for a while. It is a pro Tennis venue, so we think, and next door they have a huge, indoor tennis complex, cooled to a pleasant 68 degrees, so Joe and Dave rented a few rackets and smacked a ball around. Then Jimmy decides to get all competitive at challenge Steve to a match. Apparently, Jimmy wins. So then Jimmy, all talk, challenges Joe. "The King" as he's called. And guess what? The King wasn't about to be defeated. Poor Jimmy.
So then we played a show. To some Canadians. Friendly Canadians at that, too. It was great. We all felt that we played great. It was rumored (I suppose we can't make these sorts of statements quite yet) that Scott from Weezer was seen bobbing his head and/or rocking out to a few of our songs. But that's not "official" of course. These aren't "credible" sources. All that.
We drive to Burlington, VT tomorrow to a quick on-air radio gig. Back in the old states, again. We're not quite sure if we want to be there or not. Don't get us wrong, the states--who doesn't love them? (That was rhetorical.) But really, Canada pretty darn cool too.
Well. That's it. What else is there to say, eh?
Le Fray.
{July 9, 2005} Oh, Canada. Our neighbor and (almost) native land. It's nice here. Actually, it's great here. It's a beautiful country. From the rolling farms to the bright European-inspired cities, we have no complaints.
Toronto is great. Ironically, it feels similar to Denver in its cleanliness and youth. We spent a few hours in the middle of the day walking a few streets downtown, eating some Middle Eastern food (all except Steve, our tech, and Joe, who decided to--again, ironically--go to Quizno's, a DENVER-BASED CHAIN), and see the sights. Buildings are lighter here, white concrete and floors only of windows.
And the show was packed. Capacity at this place was 16,000 and by the time Weezer went on, it was nearly full. We heard the show was sold out. Again, another big crowd to scare us little Rocky Mountain boys.
We played well for the 20 minutes we were given. It goes by in a heartbeat when its racing as marathon pace. Then we packed ourselves into the van again and drove all the way to Montreal, Quebec, a long (anything is long if you start it at 9:30 p.m.) six-hour drive east. But we arrived safely and without any confrontations with mounties. Still, no confrontations with mounties.
We did run into some wickedly huge spiders at a gas station along the way. We all swore it could be the first sign of the apocalypse, so if you have anything you need to do, now's the time. It'll be all over soon when the Ontario Goliath Spiders start their take-over.
Just another day in Canada left, and then we head back into the states to begin another "leg" of the tour. The tour isn't nearly long to have "legs," per se, but come on.
Au revoir pour maintenant de Montreal.
The Fray, aka the Fantastic Four.
{July 8, 2005} A lot's happened since we last talked. Like playing to thousands of people in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at Summerfest. But first:
Hampton Inn's are beautiful things. Free wireless internet, a great breakfast. Nothing against other hotel chains, but they gotta go along way before they can compete...
Alright. So about Summerfest: It was incredible. We only played for 20 minutes, and those were probably some of the quickest 20 minutes of our lives. But the crowd was great. We got a good response and good feedback after the show. A few guys in the audience rocked out to "Over My Head," after getting a small cheer when announcing the song. We would have never thought...
And another thing: hearing ourselves through dozens of speaker cabinets and subwoofers, what a trip.
So we're heading up to the Great White North today, to Toronto to play tomorrow night. I've heard that neither cell phones nor wireless internet works up there, so it's like we'll be stuck in the mid-90s or something. Or, basically the stone age. We have another show with Weezer and the Pixies, and then we come back down.
Things are fine on the road. Our van doesn't smell too bad yet. We haven't watched all the DVDs yet. And we haven't made it through a tenth of our iPod libraries yet, so we're in good shape. We're excited to play in Canada, and then excited to come back and visit some friends on our way down the East Coast.
The Fray, signing off for now. Wish us luck that the mounties don't pull us over or arrest us or something.
{July 6, 2005} Hi. We're back. But we're gone. Get it?
Last night was our first day out, and we stopped in Kansas City to play a few songs for some radio friends out there at 96.5. It was short and sweet, on a stage roughly 8.5 inches off the ground, with four songs. Then we sat back and relaxed with our all access passes and watched Weezer's show. We're pretty stoked to actually play with them tomorrow.
Today was a drive day. It would be all but inconsequential, except that we stopped in Des Moines to change our oil at an "unnamed" mega-chain dominating Middle America. Someone--who knows who, really--told us that it would be no longer than an hour, so we got some food, laid low, and came back only to see that our chariot hadn't even moved yet. Two hours and twenty minutes later, we finally left. HOWEVER, at this said "corporate beast," we did find a seven dollar Frisbee that we made use of in the parking lot. The best seven dollars spent on this trip yet.
Oh, and thanks to our friends in Rock Falls, Illinois, at the Culver, for giving us free custard. Hope you like the music...
We're pretty spent, so we're gonna go to bed now. We'll get up tomorrow, at whatever time we want--because we can--and then soon after, probably, we'll play on the same stage as Weezer, the band we all first heard in elementary and junior high school. Pretty crazy.
{May 20, 2005} Talk about feeling loved. Denver is once again amazing. If we had any doubts--you know, touring can make you doubtful of certain things for no reason--they were dashed that Friday night. We had scalpers at our show! Scalpers!
We pulled out all the stops on Friday night, including an encore filled with a certain "mid-90s chart topper" that most people got a kick out of. I'm sure there were the select few who crossed their arms and shook their heads and rolled their eyes. But that's alright.
Thanks to everyone who came. That sounds terribly inadequate, but thanks. And thanks to all the people who unfortunately could not come, for any number of reasons. We'll play again soon and hopefully you all can make it out then.
We're off for a month or so, hanging out, spending time with friends, and somewhere in there becoming a little bored. So in July we'll cure our boredom and head out for a handful of dates on the East again. We'll come back here, chill for a bit longer, and then wait biting our nails for the record to come out in September. Then we'll go crazy. We won't remember the little people. Our friends will become the characters in Curb Your Enthusiasm and the cashiers at the McDonald's counters. We'll probably even start talking to our Quarter Pounders because we will have spoken our last words months ago to the other four in the van.
Probably not, but it might be fun to watch, right?
{May 18, 2005} This is the first time we got to drive our magical mystery bus to a show in our own state. We felt like kings on the hour drive to Ft. Collins. But we didn't feel as good as when we saw the line to our show outside the Aggie Theater.
It's not about pride, or arrogance. It's simply about feeling loved. We felt so loved as the line extended down nearly half the city block. It was awesome.
The show was great. Brie was a wonderful opener again. Trivia: at which show did she previously open for us?
Answer: Hope College, Holland Michigan. Fifty points if you got it right.
And In the Red were great too: talented musicians and genuinely nice guys. But best of all, the crowd was amazing. So much noise in that room that it made Joe and I turn our amps up just to hear ourselves. That's the way it should be!
{May 10, 2005} Now here this: we've come home, but we had a great time away. Our Nashville show went splendidly. It was a radio-promoted show and actually broadcast live on the radio.Ý Live live. No edits.Ý Thanks go to WRLT for giving us the opportunity.Ý We did, however, have to tell Jimmy to cut down on the swearing. You should hear him back there on bass.
We drove home yesterday, another long 20 hours in the "magical mystery bus," a direct quote from Dave's father.
Overall, the tour was a great success. We had some great shows and some great time with friends. Now we gear up for our Aggie and Gothic Theater shows, both of which we are extremely excited for. Surely you've all heard, but the Gothic show IS sold out. However, there are still tickets available for our Ft. Collins gig on the 18th, so get those quickly. They're selling fast. It's been a while since we played here. We've got the best fans and look forward to these shows the most.
Until the next tour, we'll talk to you later.
{May 5, 2005} Happy Cinco de Mayo. A friend of ours calls it Cinco de Drinko.
We played Chicago a few nights ago, and it went without a hitch. A good hundred fifty people came or so, and the fans here were welcoming as always. Chicago a friendly town, we've come to realize.
We all split up for a few days, doing random activities to fill the time until our May 8th opener in Nashville. A friend of ours calls it NashVegas.
Everyone except Isaac (he's bitter about this, so easy...) has gone to the free Lincoln Park Zoo here in Chicago. It's wonderful. They have a few new animals, a couple gorilla babies actually that are amazing. Apparently, there's some controversy right now about elephants and whatnot at the Zoo. A few have died or something. The animal rights people are up in arms. We just enjoyed the dwarf mongooses. Is it mongooses or mongeese?
Pretty relaxed around here. But we're counting our blessings, because we know that we'll go crazy nuts here in the next few months. Plus, it's nice in Chicago. Good zoo weather. Good lay outside and take a nap weather--or maybe throw a football, if you're into that.
Talk to you later.
{May 1, 2005} We've been made beautiful. About time, too.
Let me explain: we had a photo shoot/styling for the past few days in New York. A nice lady named Kate happened to pick out clothes that fit us (and our personalities) almost exactly, and this wicked little photo shop Crackerfarm did some amazing work, we can tell already. It was all good.Ý
And then we had a few days off and caught up with some old friends. Dave (he may or may not be the editor of this nonsense...) threw some darts with our producer Aaron. These New Yorkers: they're intense and serious about their darts.Ý
Had some good meals with good friends. What else better in life?
We've spent a lot of time with Jason, theÝmanager. That's alright.
Joe walked a half hour in the rain. He then complained about it for one whole hour.
And perhaps, the highlight of the evening: Dave, Isaac, and Jason went to celebrate with some women at a bachelorette party. Dave and Isaac had never before met these said women, and were planning merely to make an appearance and take off. However, in the course of their brief stay, Dave managed to be bitten on the stomach and have his head wedged into a woman's chest. Trust us, this was not his idea: he was the victim. Senseless.
Adios, for now. Talk to you soon.
{April 28, 2005} Get this: we've played a couple shows, so lemme tell you about them.
Joe's Pub, NY: We rehearsed for a quick, 4-song, 20 minute set as an opening for our friend Kyle. We get into the room, and we fall in love. This place has class. A friend of ours said after the show that is was the kind of place that "didn't make you feel uncomfortable wearing a suit." We played early: it went by in a flash, and was probably some of the best music we've made in a while. Crowd dug it, our friends dug it.
North Star Bar, Philadelphia: Ben had been talking up Philadelphia since we planned this trip. He was the only one that had been there, and he loved it. So were all stoked. Philly didn't let us down: great looking city with tons of history and the best friggin Philly cheesesteaks. They were so good, three of us bought a t-shirt from Jim's Steaks in central Philly. As for the show, it turned out alright. We were a little scared because aside from some industry people there, our crowd was approx. seven people, counting Ben's uncle and grandfather. But we played well and the little gaggle of girls that was there convinced their parents to come back so they could get a CD of ours. Fun.
Paradise Lounge, Boston: Boston is pain to drive. If hell could be something tangible, it would be driving the streets of Boston in a 15-passenger towing a 12 foot trailer. I think the devil himself had a hand in the city planning. But again, another great room with some big names to grace the stage over the Lounge's 25 year history. We met some truly nice people there and had a good time playing. And like Philadelphia, more history than we could handle. We took roads that had been in use in some form for over 400 years. Living in Denver, you can easily forget that this country is older than Buffalo Bill.
We're out a few days in New York again, being primped and preened and pruned (long hair these days...). We have a photo shoot, so they'll make us look all pretty and such.
That's all for now. Talk to you soon.
{April 22, 2005} Tonight was our second show, at the Magic Bag in Ferndale, a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. Last night was Radio Radio in Indianapolis, Indiana. Both were great crowds: a few less tonight at the Magic Bag, but no less energy and enthusiasm. For everyone who came, you all were great.
Two days of touring and we're all stoked. A few of us have had a little more sleep than others--Joe drove for nearly 10 hours on our first day out. He was like a machine. Ben was his co-pilot: the music was loud and the windows were open, and we arrived in St. Louis at 6 in the morning. Nice.
We've been playing with Kyle Riabko. He's an incredibly talented musician and a great entertainer. Plus, he's an overall good guy--same goes for his bandmates. It's been nice to see the same faces for a few nights in a row. We'll see them again on Monday night in NYC.
Jimmy, our bass player for this little adventure, has this fascination with vintage photos (from antique shops, you know the kind that come in clear plastic sleeves) and bought a few in Indy at this antique shop. One had Robert Redford, and one had some wrestling, rollerskating women...who knows.
We're off to NY tomorrow to spend a day or so in the city before our show Monday night. We've got some good friends who we're excited to see. Hope they are too, because we're gonna stay at your place. That OK?