500 Miles Above Ground Pt. 1/"I could eat a whole Bag of those Sour Gummi Worms every day and feel Awesome"

Total distance driven (on this leg): 4690sm

Currently listening to: Wild Beasts – Two Dancers

So much has happened in the past two weeks that the thought of writing about it is possibly more daunting than finals. At the same time, I know that every word I click out on this laptop keyboard will interesting in its own right and most likely cause me to momentarily gaze off into the distance, admiring the jagged, earth-tone cliffs surrounding our present location en route to Denver as I recall the places and events I am describing. The fifteen or so days since we departed that sweet, flourishing flatland called Oklahoma City for the remaining four weeks of the tour have been some of the most interesting in all of my roughly 7,711 days alive (+/- a handful for leap years, [yes, I really just did that]). We have encountered temperatures from above 110 degrees Fahrenheit to the cool, 60 degrees that makes you realize you packed too light of a light jacket, border patrol checkpoints, high altitudes jogs, 80s punk listen-a-thons, lost and FedEx-ed wallets, sand dunes like those out of Aladin, the realization that Droid really is better than iPhone, high-rise living in the “City of Angels,” bicyclist barbecue parties, stunningly beautiful terrain from the reds and oranges of the Grand Canyon to deep harbors to the snow capped Mt. Rainier and, of course, more stretches of highway than anyone believed were real (via Eisenhower). I will do my best to build a vivid yet concise record of where we have been/eaten/slept/rocked out and what we have seen/felt/touched/heard/tasted (conciseness being the difficult [self imposed] rule to follow—I’d rather not bring tears to any eyes, including my own because of extravagant length, and anyway, I mean… well there I go again).

HERE WE GO—

My girlfriend, Elizabeth, was kind enough to construct this key visual aid, clearly outlining the various stops of the “Six Week National Tour” with a golden star over Oklahoma City because it is great and a question mark over Fargo because it is mysterious:

Amarillo: First show back after being home for the weekend, four weeks of tour remain. We played at a coffee shop called The 806, a spot I quite pessimistically assumed would not be too great. Wrong I was! We had a great show and played for a good crowd, set up on the floor of what turned out to be a very unique oasis within the dehydrated town. Sadly, we ran out of stickers (not good when four weeks of shows still lie ahead) but would later solve that problem in Los Angeles. The owner was kind enough to let us stay the night there as well. Wil and I awoke early the next morning as the opening shift clocked in—just the cue we needed to get up and go for a run. Running is always something we will try and do, for multiple reasons. Firstly, it’s great exercise and we tend to spend most of our time in a car, driving for hours. Accelerating the heart rate always feels great. Secondly, it provides a reason to get up early before it’s too hot and enjoy the town while you still can. We typically hit the road as soon as possible, so having a reason to get up a little earlier and move around is great. Lastly, it allows you to take in the local color as you move down the street, covering ground quickly and seeing more than if you just hung around the venue or even strolled a few blocks around it, something else I try to do every night. We hit the road for Albuquerque around 10am.

Albuquerque: The drive to Albuquerque, a city I will always associate with Bugs Bunny (not sure how many people will know what I’m talking about), was smooth with the exception of a heavy thunderstorm we punched through about three quarters into the drive. The ground was so fully cloaked in hailstones that thought I was looking at snow for about two full minutes. We took shelter under a carport just off the highway to protect the car and trailer and found ourselves back on the road in a short while. The town itself was quite cool and we had several hours to leisurely look about and work on press for the upcoming shows. It was here, too, that a few of us decided to take a bit more active approach to fighting the poor diet and long periods of sitting still that come with touring by doing a good regimen of pushups and crunches a day. Hopefully I’ll actually come home in better shape than when I left. The show was interesting—we played an art collective called Wunderkind Space Fort and were able to crash there afterwards. The following morning was lead by a stout, high-altitude and very hilly run to the University of New Mexico. I took the wheel for the drive south and off we went.

El Paso: This particular day being Thursday, we elected to stop at a Buffalo Wild Wings in Las Cruces for a wholesome batch of 60 cent boneless wings. We were running on a bowl of nutritious Ramen each so the Honey BBQ/Asian Zing wings were much desired. A carefully planned appeal to the manager of “we’re this band and we have very little money and we’re travelling and the only time we eat out is Thursdays at BWW . . . can we have free food” was grotesquely shot down so we had to resort to trading dollars for the meal. In a crude attempt at revenge we did pushups just outside the main entrance, trying to weird out incoming customers. El Paso welcomed us with open arms in the form of a city like none I have ever seen before, whose suburbs were in the likeness of some central american country’s that I have seen only in movies. It was clear that El Paso was, quite seriously, situated on the border with Mexico. The show was weak—despite playing a venue soon to be visited by Titus Andronicus, we had the lightest attendance of any show thus far and chose to skip town as soon as possible, not too sore about heading out of El Paso, Texas.

Phoenix: We were all looking forward to our stop in Phoenix where Wil’s parents live on a piece of property recently purchased by their employer. The 11 acre plot is a former country club called the “Lazy R/G Ranch,” complete with a basketball court, pool, baseball field and park. Needless to say, we could’ve chosen a worse location for three days off . . . a name like “R&R Ranch for Mobile Band Dudes” might be more appropriate.

My time there was incredible—I had the opportunity to visit the famous In-N-Out Burger for the first time, catch up on sleep, swim and brush up on the basketball skills. We actually did not have a show in Phoenix but rather the kickoff of the “vacation” portion of our trip. The upcoming weeks held a few more extended periods in several cities, which, having never been to many of them, we all were excited about.

Flagstaff: We did pull together a show in Flagstaff on Friday, the second and middle day of our time off in Phoenix. The two hour drive up north to this university, semi-hippie city was beautiful—outlined by rugged hills dotted limitlessly with saguaro cacti and deep, blue sky. The hills made the drive a bit longer with our weighed-down suburban/trailer/band mobile, often times reduced to chugging the inclines at 40 miles per with the air conditioner off so as to prevent the engine from straining too hard and overheating. This method of driving would later repeat itself numerous times as we trekked back and forth across the Rocky Mountains and hills of California.

Something awesome was slated to take place in New Mexico: we had, since booking the tour, planned on taking a day to visit a little known, American West secret some call the Grand Canyon. Flagstaff saw us to bed at the quintessential hippie house, the kind that you walk into and, catching waves of body odor (multiple kinds), patchouli, dirt, marijuana and other weird incense things I do not understand, immediately say to yourself, “dude this is the quintessential hippie house.” The kind of house where a pirate radio station is run from the third floor walk-in closet and people go by names like “Blackbird” and have thin tattoos of ivy winding from their lower legs to their feet. The kind of house that has a cat they proudly introduce as Franz something or other AKA Mr. Bojangles, causing an objective, outside man to sit and think to himself “I’m not sure this could be any more typical!” Nonetheless, they were nice people and we were more than grateful that they agreed to let us sleep on their floor. We took off the next morning for the Grand Canyon in great spirits; ‘excited’ is an understatement for how I felt about spending the day at such a famous, natural marvel. It was amazing!

Wait a second--where did I put those pictures of the real canyon...

San Diego: The drive to San Diego was a long and hot one and had us cruising parallel to the border with Mexico for quite some time. The few stops we made revealed to me yet another world within this country that I had never before seen—gas stations/shops like something out of “El Mariachi,” dusty corridors for local roads and hot, cloudless skies, advertising for Coca-Cola hand painted on cinderblock walls and lazy, yellow sand dunes in all directions.

We ran across several Border Patrol checkpoints as well. "You boys American citizens?" "Yes, sir we are. Nice German Shepherd!" "...Alright move along."

We pulled into town with a few spare hours so we did what we usually do--head to the venue, park the Burb and stroll around. Lucky for me, the venue was situated in a really cool part of town not one mile from the active approach end of San Diego International Airport. This meant that every twenty or so steps I took had me running into something as I had my eyes skyward, admiring the Boeings and Airbuses as the pilots grounded their massive airliners firmly in Southern California until completion of the turnaround and a new set of travelers noted the time of their departure.

The show went well and we hit the road that night for the three-hour hop to Los Angeles!

Los Angeles: I really have to work to keep this city entry in check, it would be far too easy to write several pages on what I did with my three days in LA. I was well beyond pumped to spend some time in the City of Angels because of the housing plans we had—our good friend and Mack’s roommate, Jones, was flying in to meet us (and travel with us for the remainder of the tour) and hang out while we stayed at his family’s 15^th story, oceanfront condominium in Santa Monica.

We had two shows over the course of three days and plenty of time to hang out. I spent as little time as possible sleeping, which was not necessarily the best move. Chances like this are often times devoted to “strategic sleeping,” they are a chance to make up for the many lost hours and weird schedules we’ve been keeping. Not this time! I was not about to turn my LA vacation into a slumber party.

I got up around 11 the first day, pretty early considering we got in just as the sun was beginning to peak through the haze resting above the skyline. I hastily threw on my bathing suit and rallied the bros—“check out this sweet ocean, dude…you in or what?” Zach had to stay behind and catch up on some composition work he’s doing for his girlfriend’s new album but Mack, Wil and I bolted to the elevator and made for the beach not a block away. It was a great outing, filled with attacking/punching/karate chopping waves and diving into them, also the exchange of numerous bro-fives because the experience was so rad:

I got a solid, oceanfront run in a bit later, along with some good swimming and reading time at the rooftop pool. It’s worth noting that I got a pretty hellish sunburn after eagerly embracing the California sun without sunscreen, despite warnings from my mother, girlfriend and pretty much everyone else (even my own conscience, having learned the hard way many times before . . . it was..uh.. a financial issue, okay[?]). The following days consisted of more or less the same activity. It did NOT get old. I got up at 8am the morning we were slated to leave town and absconded with free Starbucks from the condo on a walk around town, grabbing breakfast in some café and perusing the streets before they were overtaken with the bustling activity of whatever busy Santa Monicans do.

It was a beautiful day like all the rest, a cool breeze breaking through the mild air that lead to many windows being left open throughout the day, individuals opting to use the outside air in place of their conditioners, the sun offering a pleasant warmth only when one chose to walk into it. I returned to the condo and packed, hopping into the Burb with our two new companions—in addition to Jones was now our friend Kyle, both of whom would be with us for the remainder of the tour, helping roadie and just hanging out. Kyle had flown into LAX just a day before to meet us and off we now went, San Fran bound.

(P.S. the two shows we had in Los Angeles were not that good. They can serve as the perfect example of my previously mentioned “big city syndrome.”)

San Francisco: We made it to San Francisco, passing the bay, Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate Bridge as we headed to the venue in jackets, enjoying the 60 degree weather. Arriving there, we realized that one of the inevitable tour errors had occurred—there was some miscommunication and the venue “no longer had live music.” Here we were with a trailer full of guitars, ready to play for just about anybody and no show after all. After some failed attempts at hopping on other local bills, we found a busy street corner with some power outlets and decided to go for it. After unloading the trailer, we realized that the outlets did not actually work…time to pack up and accept the snake-bit stop in San Fran.

Not so! A kind woman walks up to us—“are you guys in a band?” She informed me of a barbecue/beer party going on not two blocks away at a bicycle shop. Off I went, sprinting the short distance and arriving at the outdoor party, which was completely full of those bicycles dudes and gals, you know the kind. They were really cool and the owner gave us the go-ahead to load in and play for the 30 or so people hanging out. I believe we set a band record for load-in speed that day, setting up and playing in probably under eight minutes. Not so snake-bit after all, San Francisco! We got all of two and a half songs in before the police rolled in and shut us down…so worth it! It was a lot of fun and I met some very cool people. We were all happy with the off-the-cuff evening and headed to bed at the apartment we had landed as a crash pad.

Eugene: I enthusiastically drove the nine hours from San Francisco to Eugene, Oregon and saw probably more beautiful scenery than ever before in my life. This was my great entry to the Pacific Northwest, a part of the country I have badly wanted to visit for many years.

We played a fun show at a place called Sam’s Garage. Arriving in the actual city of Eugene after dark and leaving immediately after the show for Portland (a move made because we had a place to stay in the only-two-hours-away northwest hub) left me without so much as a mental image of the college town outside of the venue and surrounding block. All the more reason to return someday!

Portland: This is will probably be my favorite stop of the entire tour when all is said and done. We had two full days in this particular city and I enjoyed myself to a degree rivaled by few things when travelling. Another record was set in Portland—four shows in one day. We came into that particular Saturday with two scheduled shows and managed to pick up two more. Here’s the tale:

An event called the Big Busk Festival was going on that day in downtown Portland (a very vibrant and active downtown, I might add) which had many musicians, mostly solo street performer types, doing just that—playing street corners for loosely scheduled periods of time and moving to another.

We were to play at 5pm and had about four hours to kill. With that kind of time, what do we do? Try to find/build a show. We did exactly that by walking into Mississippi Studios which we later learned is a staple venue of Portland, explaining ourselves, getting the all-clear and setting up on their beautiful, outdoor patio, well within earshot and eyeshot of that hip part of town. We played for an hour and a half, excitedly bringing in a total of around 100 people from off the street to listen. The venue rewarded us with some t-shirts and free beer for bringing them sales but we were mainly happy that people were so interested in our music. The show was a huge success and we got a lot of records into new hands. Hmm I forgot to mention that this was probably the most beautiful day I had ever experienced. What is it about the west coast climate that makes it so awesome? We met a guy in his early 30s named Chris who had been lured in by the tunes who asked us to play a party he was having that night at 7pm for a bit of cash. We gladly accepted and hurriedly packed up, taking off for the Big Busk.

This show was absolutely incredible. I had no idea what to expect as I rushed to ferry gear from the trailer to the street corner in front of a major department store amidst the tall, green trees and wide, clean streets. We set up in lightning speed and kicked off a 40 minute set, almost instantly attracting attention from passers by. By the time I looked up to give the “We are a band from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma called The Non…” spiel after the first song there were probably 40 people gathered in closely around us.

The number grew to at least 100 shortly following and we ended up with a fantastic, happy crowd of people from all walks of life enjoying the music and beautiful weather. A little Japanese girl walked up at the urgings of her father and stood in front of me as I played, her father taking an excited photograph of her with the loud street performers behind. The response from the audience was incredible. Everyone was enjoying themselves and I could not keep the surprised smile off my face for the entire set, beaming and enjoying each note I hit more than I had in a long time. We were amped. They were amped. It was pretty amazing. We tore down in a hurry and bolted over to Chris’ house for the party gig we had picked up.

Chris had us set up in a stone-floored open patch of his blooming, full backyard garden. We were treated to an excellent free meal of barbecue as we realized we were playing a yuppie baby shower and not just some “party.”

I was so excited that I had to close my eyes to hide it:

Everyone there was in their late twenties or early thirties, married with a very young child or married with a child visibly on the way. It was great! Everyone was super nice and excited to have a surprise band at the get-together. In between songs I gave some dialogue: “We’re so happy to be here, this is great, we just met Scott ‘it’s Chris!’ errr.. Chris this afternoon, this is so spur-the-moment, we have a real show later tonight ‘hey what do you mean a reeaal show?’ uhh I mean this is totally a real show…” I don’t think I’ve ever stuck my foot in my mouth more in my life than that evening! It all went great and we chugged out, quickly packing up for the third time that day to jet off to Mt. Tabor Theatre where the second originally booked show was about to go down.

There was some kind of crazy “Dark Alice in Wonderland Ball” going on in the theatre room of Mt. Tabor and the place was crawling with fun-loving people in the strangest, most detailed costumes you’ve ever seen. It made for an interesting night. We played the Lounge room with a seriously awesome duo called Wishyunu and, despite being nearly completely drained of energy from the day, played well.

We spent our stay with an incredibly nice family connected to Zach and Wil’s college who were insistent upon making us huge meals. They were awesome meals too. The house was the nicest place we’ve stayed on the entire trip, built of a very contemporary design and filled with dark wood and stone. That family’s hospitality is representative of the whole of Portland: every single person I met was nicer than the last. Something about Portland just seems to be …right.

We had a second show the follow day, Sunday. That makes five shows over two days! This was another especially interesting one because we played with a band called No Kind of Rider—the new name of our great, old Tulsa friends formerly known as Black Swan. They moved to Portland about two years ago and this was our first time to connect with them since. It was an awesome night; seeing those guys was something I had been looking forward to since we planned the tour.

Let me sum all of this up in one short, short sentence: Portland is incredible.

I have much more coming in the next few days, just need to get it all hammered out.

--Life on the line continues!

“What are you doin’ there, Guy?”/Trucker’s Atlas/Blues for Meister/Eskimo

Total distance driven: 2947sm

Currently watching: The Pacific

We have been in several different cities/states since my last update about a week ago. It’s a bit difficult to recall what has occurred at the past few shows and in their respective cities so I will break the dates down by location and see what comes out, reaching into the folds of my memory as I sit passenger front en route to Denton—the last show before we’re home for three days!

Nashville: We met with a SESAC representative named Justin for about an hour and a half in a pretty cool looking meeting room where we also got free coffee. Excellent! A lot of talking went on, mainly about the difficulties that bands of our scale face: issues with networking, promotion, organization of labor and time and “energy” management, if you will. The music/live show is maybe only 60% of what a band does. The rest usually involves telephones, laptops, free wi-fi, lots of driving and will. Wouldn’t change it for anything! The show went pretty well that night. We played an art collective/studio joint called the Open Lot, which provided an interesting air for the performance, full of sequestered studio space and gallery walls. I later came to find out that the director of Open Lot is connected to the place we played in St. Louis, 2720 Cherokee, which had a very cool art gallery on its second floor and served as an art “collective” as well.

Memphis: The next day, Tuesday, I drove the three hours to Memphis where we played a venue called The Nocturnal. The owner of the club seemed to really like us and asked us to add our mark to the back hallway:

We stayed at our friend Cindy’s place after the show. She was not able to be at the house but was kind enough to welcome us in through the use of signs and good humor. A makeshift “Welcome Oklahomans” banner hung on the front door and duct tape arrows on the carpet lead each of us to our beds: She even scrawled a message in crayon on the tile wall of the shower (shower!).

New Orleans: While at a conveniently located Love’s Country Store, which, being an Oklahoma company, we make every effort to frequent whenever possible, an old television screen provided a not-so-nice update. In our travels we often neglect to pay attention to things like the news and weather, precipitation we encounter aside, and the message being disseminated at Love’s was one of Hurricane Alex and his ferocious approach. Normally, this kind of news gets shrugged off with a brief “wow, another one’s hittin’ the Gulf Coast,” but it is an entirely different animal, to be recognized and respected as such, when you are, in fact, headed for the Gulf Coast. The words “hurricane” and “New Orleans” do not sit well with the general public. …onward, to New Orleans!

The show was awesome! Definitely one of the better we’ve had. The criteria for a “good” show is not as simple as one might think. I would rather not place the weight of such a verdict on a variable as independent as “how many people were there,” or “how we played,” “stage presence,” “the sound,” or “energy.” Instead, it is a combination of all these things and more. The size of the venue, obviously, has a direct impact on how full it feels. The interpretation of how it looks, feels, smells, how the other bands were, the energy put out as a performer and received as a performer all factor in to the call. The call on many nights is great and this particular night is among the ranks of “shows difficult to top.” The venue we played is called The Circle Bar is lies just West of the French Quarter in New Orleans, a city I nearly claim as my second behind OKC because of other visits I’ve had there. It is very, very intimate, the stage area nothing more than a small square of floor space in what looks and feels like a living room. The venue is actually the first floor of an old, three-story house and definitely feels like it. Someone even took the time to draw their version of our tour poster on the sign outside:

Very cool. One of the other bands we played with, called WATIV, is a mind blowing free-jazz group of four, specializing in being Badass (capital B). I would strongly recommend them to anyone and everyone—they’re a step in the avant-garde direction of jazz that is new to me. Very cool guys, too, who I later came to find out are the “best bassist in New Orleans” and “probably the best drummer as well.” That would explain the seemingly countless jazz heads in the audience, several of whom flattered me by recognizing influence from several 1960s and 1970s jazz fusion groups I have been listening to for years.

We had an eight hour drive to Austin the next day. With no place to stay in N.O.L.A and its status as a somewhat-shady town (always on the brain when you have a trailer with a lot of gear in it) we elected to either find a $30 highway motel or drive all night. A motel is something we have not yet done this tour and something we will put every effort into avoiding. Only the most dire straits call for a motel; car seats easily serve as beds. Either way we had to get out of town. I took the helm and we departed the Crescent City at 2am and, finding no motels cheaper than $80 (a totally unacceptable price) we set up the drive-all-night template. In a valiant and honestly fun run, Wil sat right seat as I trucked onward until 8am, whereupon I handed the wheel off to the freshly awoken Mack and Zach. Wil and I promptly and ridiculously celebrated with a six-pack of tiny, eight ounce beers, having never gone to sleep the night before. The comic relief was not shared by the groggy M and Z who now sat daunted by the remaining three hours left to chug along. (It should be noted that we tenderly awoke them by plugging Wil’s computer into the car stereo and cranking the sound of Thompsons, .30 cals and HE mortar rounds in their collaborative effort against the Japanese defenses on Peleliu. [sweet dreams]).

Austin: After making the arduous drive, everyone needed to catch up on sleep. We were able to stay at Mack’s cousin’s house where we promptly checked in upon our arrival into Austin.

The Non Tribe of Four thence counted sheep and sawed logs until about 4pm. This day is perhaps topped by our visit to Buffalo Wild Wings before checking into the venue, the fairly famous Mohawk Lounge, for a batch of delectable, 40-cent boneless wings. It shall be recognized, as part of the code—while living cheaply on the road, embracing a life of Phillips 66 sink washing, Flying J microwave Easy Mac and Love’s coffee, a man shan’t pass a 40-cent boneless wing day at B-dubs unless a death in the family has occurred or a he has, on his person, a doctor’s note for some mysterious, debilitating illness.

Denton (last show until home!):

The drive to Denton revealed a deeply rooted rhythm as we unintentionally stopped at the exact same two gas station we had hit the previous month, making the exact same drive. To freshen up the experience we politely asked a clerk to photograph us wearing some cowboy hats:

Arriving in Denton was highly anticipated because of some plans we had—someone had contacted us through Twitter, generously offering to buy us all dinner at a place called Fuzzy’s Tacos. Needless to say, we graciously accepted the offer and now claim Dillon as a great new friend. Fuzzy’s seemed to be the Denton version of OKC’s Big Truck, a welcomed change from our inexpensive eating habits. The show was a late one, having us headline at 12:15am and went great until our 2am load out, when we realized that the Burb’s starter had failed:

The problem had been creeping in for the past two weeks and, on the night of our scheduled return home, come to a point. While it was annoying, leading us to secure yet another satellite home/crash pad (which we are very, very grateful for), it could not have happened on a better night. With no show until the following Tuesday, we had plenty of time to get the issue resolved. Everything was straightened out Saturday morning and we found ourselves home early in the afternoon, all in great spirits and very happy to be where we were. The drive was a short one in which I wore the traditional “returning home” Native American headband that hangs from our rearview mirror. Don’t ask:

Home: All too short were the days we spent in our own beds but great days they were! Later conversation revealed that our weekend experiences were nearly parallel in that we spent as much time as possible with our girlfriends and the rest of it sleeping, eating or showering, or sleeping more, or sleeping more.

On the road again: We find ourselves with a reset odometer, now at 213 statute miles after the last leg’s nearly 3200 fade into the past. Some things never change:

We can anticipate a much higher number this go-round, with ample desert states/West Coast/Pacific Northwest/Northwest driving. The longest forecast drive is coming up in about two weeks: 14 ½ hours from Seattle to Provo, UT. That will definitely be a fun drive with some beautiful scenery, I am certain. We have a lot ahead of us these next four weeks, including a planned stop at the Grand Canyon and a “layover” at a friend’s beachside condo in Los Angeles. Life. Is. Hard. So we are off! Almost to Amarillo where we will dive back into this whole thing headstrong, knowing a lot of greatness lies ahead.

--Life on the line continues!

"We've Arrived at the Good Work"

Total distance driven: 1268sm

Currently listening to: Neil Young -- Harvest Moon

Only 47 miles outside Indianapolis we encounter some seriously heavy rain and a full rainbow (the end-to-end, totally legit kind of rainbow). I’ll take this as a sign that the show tonight will have …seven different colors and a pot of gold at the end.

The past several days have been hectic but great: we trekked from St. Louis after an okay show to Champaign, IL where we played great and drew a good crowd from playing an outside stage. It’s fun when passers by stop outside the fence of the venue to ponder what they’re seeing and hearing. Several people who came up to talk to me after the show informed me that they had, in fact, wandered in because of the sights and sounds. Successful night, complete with an awesome breakfast at a local diner the next day:

The following two days landed us in beautiful Chicago, a town famous for deep-dish pizza, the Sears Tower, Grant Park and not giving local/touring bands the time of day. It was great to meet up with some friends and have a clean place to stay. I am ceaselessly amazed at the hospitality shown to us by friends and “strangers” (usually bands we play with or venue people) alike. Having a floor to sleep on is a tremendously coveted opportunity and Julia was kind enough to have coffee and eggs made for us when we woke up.

Back to back Chicago shows: the first, Friday show was a disappointment, leaving a sour taste in our mouths. It was our third show in the Windy City and our third time to face the fact that Chicago is difficult. When you have a city so large and so densely populated, there is music everywhere. The same goes for towns like Austin and NYC. The city is calloused to new music because every band in the contiguous US wants to be “from” there or just play there (it looks great on paper – “yeah, we’ve got a gig in Chi-town next weekend). The result of this attention paid to a city like Chicago is a population so disinterested in small-scale, touring bands that you can find yourself playing for the only sound guy and the other band dudes/dudettes if you book the wrong club.

On a more positive note we had a really GREAT show in Chicago the second night, Saturday. We played at a place called Ronny’s (different than the previous night’s venue) for a solid crowd and did well in the merch department. Talk about a 180 degree flip. It just goes to show you the complexity of a city as diverse and huge as Chicago. There is, of course, a lot of promotion, emailing and other assorted media moves to be done before any show but, for the sake of simplicity and “zeroing that out,” we’ll hold that all constant; it levels the field of these shows and lets me compare them objectively, the bad one night and the good the next.

Saturday was an excellent day off. With no driving necessary to get us to the next show (excluding the consistently hellish Chicago driving which can often lead to 30 minutes of car time to traverse five miles), we had the full day to embrace the town. Zach and Mack went west to visit Chris at I.V. Labs, the studio that we mixed “Tadaima” at last summer. Wil and I opted for a cold swim in Lake Michigan with the skyline in full view, on a beach inhabited by everyone from toddlers and parents not much older than us to elderly couples and solo, urban women working on their tans.

Wil, you beast you.

One kid, walking down the beach with his father in tow, pointed to my American flag bathing suit with an ear-to-ear smile and excited laughter. “Yeah, you’ve seen that before, haven’t you!” the father cheerfully remarked. I smiled and simply said “World Cup.” “They stand a chance,” the father said, supportively. Despite my good spirits and the light nature of our brief exchange, a voice in my head screamed “man, it’s OUR team, it’s WE, not THEY! USA, USA, USA!” Being a World Cup - excuse me - a United States fan, I was pretty torn up about our loss to Ghana not an hour earlier that afternoon.

--Man, Ghana played a sleazy game. Sure, they won “fair and square” and I’m not by any means a sore loser but come on—any time we got a lead they would trip our players or just pull them down by the jersey. I can only wonder how much jersey grabbing and other illegal behavior was going on during those corner kicks. Seriously, faking injuries during added time to get a fresh player in? Filthy. The differences in how we played the game and how Ghana played the game really points to implicit differences in national cultures, in my eyes. That’s a whole separate conversation!

After our time at the lake we hopped on a bus to Jefferson Park where we slid onto the metro Blue Line, road a few stops down to Logan Square where we disembarked and walked about a mile to the venue, arriving promptly at the predetermined reconvening time of 8pm. Showtime.

We headed out mid-morning the following day, Sunday, for Indianapolis. The Non-mobile, AKA The Burb, drank $100 in fuel as we stopped to heat up a pleasant meal of Easy Mac with a side of peanut butter and honey sandwiches at a gas station just off I-64 out of Chicago. Living on the road is just as glorious as one might expect!

The drive to Indy lead us into a sever storm, exactly where I began writing this gargantuan blog post. We played a pretty good show at a venue run by a couple of not-so-nice people, the kind that have absolutely no interest in returning any gesture of kindness or good natured interaction and got out of dodge. I stuck myself behind the wheel and drove two hours to Louisville, Kentucky (a city and state I have never had the opportunity to visit before) where we stayed with a recently graduated and married friend of Wil’s. Serving as an example of the spontaneous hospitality I keep talking about, they sheltered us after a midnight phone call and soaking wet, 2:30am arrival. Man, people are great. It’s really incredible.

So, we find ourselves on the drive yet again. I now sit backseat passenger side as we pass through more intermittent, heavy rain showers. We are now about 70 miles outside Nashville and the local time is 12:17pm. What’s interesting about today is a meeting we have with a SESAC (Society of European Stage Authors and Composers) representative at 3:30. SESAC is now essentially a record label and publishing rights organization along the lines of BMI. We’ll see how this goes, it should be exciting. We have a show tonight at a place called Open Lot in Nashville, which should also be pretty awesome.

[The sun is now out and the clouds have cleared away! As a situational update –

Total distance driven: 1565sm

Currently listening to: Candy Claws – In Dream of the Sea Life

What a long freakin’ post! I had a great time writing this one.]

--Life on the line continues!

Mojo Risin'

Currently listening to: Black Flag -- My War

We're hanging out at a place called Cafe Berlin in Columbia, Missouri after a short two hour drive from Lawrence, waiting to load in to Mojo's where we will be playing with a band called Nonreturner in a few hours. Actually, we rolled into town about an hour ago and stopped at Sam's to buy the mega-size packs of Ramen and Easy Mac so we can have a surplus of free [gas station cookable] food.

Last night's show went well! The Taproom is a really cool place and seems to be quite a hub for Lawrence music--everyone we talked to immediately knew of the place and had something along the lines of "oh yeah, that place is cool, good music" to say. Things worked out pretty well for a Monday with an audience of maybe 30 people and a pretty decent payout, putting us a bit more than in the black for the drive to MO today.

Also (totally worth noting): Lawrence has an awesome and surprisingly legit kickball league. We got to watch a game on Sunday night along with about 400 mostly cigarette smoking, beer drinking, tattooed Lawrence residents. The picture from my phone does not do this justice.

Kind of a funny thing having a day off yesterday, so early in the tour. Waking up in the same place multiple days in a row instead of packing into the suburban and cruising the interstates tends to sort of trick the mind.

One almost forgets what it is he's doing out here! Not so fast, semi-constant-location-mind trickery--the short drive to Columbia has proven refreshing. It feels good to be back on the move!

Had a great show in Columbia last night at Mojo's, stayed with the guys from Ptarmigan and got up early to watch the incredible USA vs. Algeria game. We wandered around the streets of downtown and into the Ragtag Cafe and Cinema where we watched the game with around 100 other excited people. The moment of Donovan's goal at 91 minutes was probably the most intense sports-watching experience I have ever had. That much energy is what makes watching things like that so great. ...show tonight in St. Louis

--Life on the line continues!

LIV!

Total distance driven: 20.9sm

Currently listening to: Menomena – Friend and Foe

(12:24pm) -- Go time! Saturday morning was greeted with my rising out of bed and treating myself to an excellent Waffle House send-off breakfast. We hit the road around 11:30am after removing t-shirts and rolling up pant legs to cope with the heat, preserving our freshly showered bodies which will likely not claim that status for some time.

First stop—Wichita, Kansas for the LIV Music Festival all afternoon and night. Other bands on this bill include our friends Student Film, French Horn Rebellion, Split-Lip Rayfield, among others. We’re off to a good start with a day off tomorrow before two week’s worth of shows across the Midwest! After that we have a three day home-break followed by four weeks out to the west coast. Getcho freak-on, ‘Merica.

Total distance driven: 179.1sm

Currently listening to: Sleigh Bells – Treats

(11:43pm) -- Wil and I saw an incredible shooting star tonight while sitting on a curb after the show, the kind that almost makes you think it’s an airplane it moves so slowly across the sphere. Had we not witnessed it’s blowing into pieces I might have gone on thinking it was a satellite or airliner. The performance was great, awesome stage and awesome sound. I restrung my bass last night, too—it’s hard to beat brand new strings. Hospital Ships from Lawrence were definitely the best band I got to see tonight. This whole outdoor festival atmosphere means we get to call it a night at 11pm and move on. That’s a big change from some cities, which send you on the road around 2am. We’re currently in the car en-route to Lawrence where we have a place to stay with an old friend. Thanks, Steve!

Sunday holds a full day off in the town and nobody is going to let it pass. Love Garden Records, coffee shops, and the many awesome places Lawrence holds will receive our visits throughout the day. Man, Lawrence is great!

--Life on the line continues!

Pizza so damn hot you have to hold it under an industrial fan to cool it off.

This weekend held two shows, one in Denton on Friday and Austin on Saturday. We took off a bit on the late side Friday, due to the inevitable and unavoidable __________(fill in the blank--lots of variables mean lots of little reasons things always get pushed back). We also caught the wave of OKC workers heading south at 5pm, causing I-35 to move at 15mph with their eagerness to start the weekend. A good start came to our weekend when we finally got the mighty iPhone to work correctly and, instead of directing us to some invisible point in the middle Elm, light the path to the beautiful town square Denton possesses, from which we quickly found The Boiler Room where we would be playing:

The show went really well. The stage was definitely on the larger side and included a drum riser (which I think we all secretly hate). Nonetheless, it was a great and well received night that consisted of six of the eight tower lights, lasers and smoke. We had to back off using the four, 300watt can lights because of breaker capacity issues. No big, common problem! One thing that is always very fascinating about Denton, a small town despite having a university with an undergrad population of something like 30,000, is the town square. Literally, the city is centered on a beautifully designed public building of some sort with a lawn serving as a general hangout and surrounded by all the cool coffee shops, restaurants and venues the town has to offer. Never have I been to Denton and not seen at least 100 college-age people floating about the square. Wil and I wandered around and tried to chat the townsfolk up, persuading them to check out The Boiler Room that night. I think it's safe to say we rounded up a few new listeners. Denton is always such a fun town to see!

Saturday called for waking up at 11:30 (after going to sleep at about 4am) and cruisin' south the the famed Austin, TX, a town that never, ever, ever ceases to surprise me with something weird that I never thought possible. IT'S AWESOME. I wish OKC would be as interested in things like the aesthetic of highway support pillars and city power-plant edifices. Austin just "has it" when it comes to design. Probably a result of the people who flock to the city because of it's status as a [legitimate] hub of the arts. OKC is my home, no doubt, and I love it so but I wouldn't mind our city officials adopting a slightly more design influenced stance, generally speaking.

We got to the venue we were playing, Scoot Inn, at about 7pm. Plenty of time to get some face to face with the town when the show starts at 10pm. The temperature was probably around 102F and humidity at something like 900% as we strolled nine or ten blocks to East Side Pies, whose slogan should be "pizza so damn hot you have to hold it under an industrial fan to cool it off." Dinner was great!

The show went great as well, again consisting of only tower lights, smoke and lasers. We received some great responses from the folks hanging out that night and saw the bartender smiling during our set. That means a lot, considering she sees bands probably every night at her work. She was very cool, directed us to a great coffee shop on 6th called Rio Rita's earlier in the evening. We earned some new listeners and sold a good amount of CDs and shirts but, most importantly, we got a lot of promises of attendance at our upcoming July 1st show, again in Austin at the Mohawk.

I saw this just outside the venue as we were leaving (at 1am for the seven hour trek home):

Wonder if this dude/dudette saw the same GZA show at the Mohawk that I saw back at SXSW in March. Hope so, because that show was awesome! I didn't go around writing "I just saw the GZA" on everything but that doesn't mean I didn't think about it.

So--hit the road at 1am in the because Zach had to be back Sunday mid-morning. Mack and Zach did all the driving on that leg and we managed to arrive home at about 7:30am Sunday. Sleep was the only thing on the mind at that time.

It was a fantastic weekend! Can't wait to get back out in two weeks for the big tour.

--life on the line continues!