August 28th, Superior, WI, 9:12AM
Once again, Internet access has been sketchy, so I’ll update as soon as possible.
After leaving the 7 Clans Casino, we drove back down Highway 29 to the twin cities of Fargo and Moorhead. One side of the river is Fargo, ND, and the other side is Moorhead, MN.
We actually played in Moorhead, but I found myself constantly on the lookout for landmarks from the movie “Fargo”. I can’t say that I found any; first of all, nothing’s covered in snow, so it’s hard to tell.
The club we played is called The Broken Axe, and it is truly the load in from hell. When we showed up and walked in the door, there’s about ten steps up into the bar, and I thought “oh great”. The bar was nice; it’s an old Mason’s Lodge built during the WPA days as part of an old zoo. I walked in and saw the soundboard to the right, but straight ahaead was the bar, and I couldn’t tell where the band sets up. Then my eyes wandered up towards the pitched roof, and I saw the stage lights…oh…no. The stage was above the bar, about fifteen feet above the floor, and was very narrow. One narrow stairway led up to it, and there’s no service elevator. It’s pretty horrifying for someone like me who’s none too fond of heights, and frankly the whole thing is a terrible accident waiting to happen. I don’t stand at the front of the stage, so I could tuck myself into the corner and I was fine.
Once we started playing, it still felt weird. You’re wayyy above the audience, so there’s a definite disconnect, and I felt a lot like a King, getting ready to address my assembled subjects. Or spit on their heads.
Here’s what I’ll remember about Moorhead, though; it was the drunkest gig we’ve done so far. Those people got hammered. Then when we went back to the Howard Johnsons, the police had been called out to break up the stragglers from a Wedding reception that had been held in one of the conference rooms, so more drunk people.
The next morning, Sunday, we loaded up and headed across Minnesota to another border/twin cities locale, Duluth, MN and Superior, WI. We’re playing in Superior, and staying in an old hotel just down the street. The Androy Hotel fails my personal “Resident to Guests” comfort ratio, and about every other business on this street is a bar. Apparently, Superior has historically been a sort of playground for the sailors working the Great Lakes, and obtaining a Liquor License here is about as hard as getting a tattoo. I was told that when Duluth rolls up for the night, the hardier partiers charge acroos the bridge to Superior.
The gig was at Bev’s Juke Joint, a teeny place down by the railroad tracks, and the crippled “soundman” didn’t miss any opportunities to tell us what wasn’t his job, since he was only making $30. I decide to take a little time to myself to try to regain some perspective on my career, and not explain to him exactly how you could measure my concern for his career path in microgiveashits. Just a little “me” time. That night, the club was scary empty when we got there, but filled up by the time we got going. I guess the paper printed the wrong time – we had an 8:00 Sunday night start time – so we started a little late. We finished up before 11, and after break down, I spent the evening talking to some very funny women from Duluth who gave me the history and backstory on Superior (famous with sailors the world over), and their opinions on Fargo (“You should have called in sick!” “It’s just like the movie.”).
This morning I got up and took a walk to see Superior, but after an hour, I ran out things to see. So here I am in the lobby of the Androy, writing this. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to post it soon, but tonight’s a night off as we make our way to Indianapolis, so who knows when I’ll get connected again.
August, 25th, Thief River Falls, MN, 10:36PM
I’m back on Word for this entry, so I’ll have to add this to the Diary when I can. I’ll explain in a minute, but first; last night in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A couple of weeks ago, I got an Email from Ed Van Egdom, who I don’t know, but says he’s been reading my tour diary, found me through an Internet Bass Hangout, and lives in Sioux Falls. The reason he contacted me was that the nightclub we were scheduled to play had shut its doors quite suddenly. He’d also contacted John’s management, and the wheels started turning and the gig was re-booked at a new place, “Nutty’s”.
We didn’t know what was going to happen, coming off kind of a lack-luster gig, crowd-wise. Would anybody come out in Sioux Falls? Thanks to a local crew called “Pepper Productions”, we had a sell out, and a fun night. Nutty’s and Pepper are working together to bring more touring bands into their room, and we were the first, and a successful inauguration it was.
At nine A.M. we loaded into the van and headed north, up Highway 29 and across to the 7 Clans Casino in Thief River Falls. They’re having a Blues Festival this weekend, and the Saturday show is us and Walter Trout, guitar slinger. But here’s the really great news; I’ve got my own room! Woohoo! And it’s big. I’ve got two Queen size beds and a big couch, microwave, fridge, and a balcony and a fireplace. Tomorrow’s gig is only a couple of hours away, so we get to stay until checkout. Oh, and meal vouchers! Courtesy Suite slash Dressing Room! The downside is we’re in a hotel casino fifteen miles outside of any town, with no Wireless, cell-phone signal, or – not that it matters to me but it’s weird – booze.
The show had it’s problems; at a festival, it’s a good idea to have a “Backline” – a drum set and bass and guitar amps for everyone to use – because then, the soundman doesn’t have to re-adjust everything for everyone’s different gear. No backline today, but the festival will have one for tomorrow when Bo Diddley and the Fabulous Thunderbirds play. Helter skelter soundcheck on the fly, and it didn’t work too well.
Here’s a good story about Walter Trout. My friend Jon Hundt had written me about the fact that a mutual acquaintance had worked as Road Manager for Walter a couple of years ago, but didn’t know if he still did. This guy was lead singer for the Sleez Beez, a ‘hair-metal’ band out of Holland back in the 80’s, that included Jan Coster on drums. I knew Jan from ‘back in the day’ when he came to the U.S. and started “The Trends”, then when Sudden Fun went to Holland in 1980 blah blah blah…geez. ANYWAY, I’m watching Walter play, and suddenly, the guitar tech comes up on stage and just BELTS out a song! So I go backstage and catch him, and compliment his singing, and basically say “Did you sing with…”. Well it was him, so I introduced myself and Andrew’s a very nice guy and the moral of all these stories is that the world is a very small place. Except for my room, which is huge.
August 24th, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 7:50PM
I was thinking about Iowa, and wondering if cities get 'stale' if you hang around too long, but I think I'm wrong. The city doesn't get stale; I do.
As we sweep through these places, we don't really see much, as far as sights go, so I tend to judge places by the people that we meet; the nicer the people take care of us, the nicer I percieve the place to be. On days off, no one takes care of us. Like I said, 'five dorks in a van'. We spent two nights in Iowa, and played to the smallest crowd yet. I had to room with Gig both nights. Therefore, Iowa sucks.
That's not very fair, but c'est la vie. The people we did meet were all very, very nice. The people at the club who invited me to sit and talk to them on our break were great, friendly folks, and we talked about kids and Sioux City and blues, but as nice as they were, they couldn't raise their town out of the Minor Leagues.
So far, Sioux City is representing very well. I still have to room with Gig, but it's a Holiday Inn, and the people at the club were very excited, and there are these big, free cookies in the lobby that are just killer!
We're supposed to be on T.V. tonight. I don't know if it's the News or Wayne's World. Maybe Fernwood Tonight. COPS. Whatever...my clothes are ironed.
August 22nd, Sioux City, Iowa, 8:13PM
Dammit! For whatever reason, this Motel has HBO 2 instead of HBO, so I'm not watching parts III and IV of Spike Lee's "When the Levees Broke". I suspect a Red State Conspiracy.
Yesterday morning, we were in a luxury hotel in Austin. By last night it was doubling up at the Quality Inn on the outskirts of Kansas City. Tonight, still doubled up at a QI, but in Sioux City. Have I mentioned "Days off" before? This is the last one, then it's home stretch, baby. Days off make me feel homesick. Once we're back to business it'll roll on by.
There's really not much to report on days off, just driving and gas stations and laundry - y'know, all the really glamorous stuff. The coolest thing might be the hotel pool; it's shaped like a playing card "Club". Weird, but cool.
Thursday, we drive from Sioux City to Sioux Falls. Coincidence?
August 20th, Austin, Texas, 11:35PM
So, after two really good gigs in Arkansas, we jumped on a plane this morning and made our way to Austin for the 2006 “Rockin’ Blues Festival”. We were picked up at the airport in a giant stretch Hummer limo. Really. I never saw myself riding in a stretch limo Hummer, in fact I figure anyone who’d buy a Hummer is kind of a tool. I felt pretty weird climbing in, not really buying into all the ‘bling’, but it was comfortable, and the way it attracted everyone’s attention as we rolled down the highway worked well with my whole ‘let’s play Rockstar’ mindset. “Austin-tatious”! Actually, now that I think about it, I think the limo was bigger than the plane we were on on the first leg of the trip this morning.
The limo took us to the Renaissance Hotel, where we checked in and relaxed for about an hour. My room has a bed roughly the size of most bathrooms, and there’s a large open space that I assume is my dance floor. I guess everything really is big in Texas.
On to the Festival itself. “Carlos & Charlie’s” is this kind of compound on the shores of a lake. Unfortunately, after a summer of record setting heat, the lake is down 30 feet below normal, and it’s about a billion degrees on the outdoor stage where we’re scheduled to go on at 6:15. Once again, everyone treats us far too nice, from the promoters to the sound crew. The festival is sponsored by Paul Mitchell Haircare Products, and although Paul himself couldn’t make it this year, his wife Eloise is there to greet us, and she’s…well…picture the wife of a Hollywood Scrillionaire; yep. Exactly.
Here’s how the festival works; a local band plays inside, we play outside, another local band plays inside while the stage is set up outside for the next act, and so forth and so on. So we played, and it was really hot, but a lot of fun. People dancing and sweating; all too short on time. When we’re done, I’m walking back to the RV that’s serving as the dressing room and there’s someone else heading in the same direction. As I start to catch up to him, I start thinking how familiar he looks, and sure enough, as I come up even with him, it’s Tommy Shannon. Tommy Damn Shannon.
Bassists, indulge me for a second while I try to explain. Tommy Shannon first came to fame in the sixties playing with Johnnie Winter. He hung out with Hendrix. He was a fixture on the Austin blues circuit when he started a band with a shy kid named Stevie Ray Vaughan, who as it turns out, was a pretty good guitarist. I have given classes on this guy’s basslines, and his influence on my playing is so ingrained that when I listen to him, I’m surprised by how much what I play, mimics him. So that’s who I end up sitting in a RV with in Austin, Texas. Damn right I shook his hand. A little later he was warming up on that bass – the 1962 Jazz, with most of the finish worn off. The first bass he ever bought. The bass has a Discography that makes the mind reel. Jimi played this bass. It was all I could do not to run up and just touch it; just poke it while he warmed up.
Tommy was there because Double Trouble was headlining the fest playing with Kenny Wayne Shepherd, but between us and them was a trio led by a local guitarist named Monte Montgomery. I’ve been playing bass a really long time, and I figure that in all that time, I’ve probably spent about five and a half years of solid time backing a guitar solo. Guitarists do not impress me much. I’ve been there, seen that, and somebody owes me a damn T-Shirt. Having said that, let me tell you, Monte Montgomery was one of the most impressive guitarists I’ve ever seen. Ever. He plays an acoustic guitar, and his speed, clean lines, and interesting chord voicings made for one of the most virtuoso performances I’ve ever seen. Just stunning. I don’t envy Kenny following that guy, but the band sounded good with God’s own rhythm section and the vocalist, Noah, who sang on his best stuff. KWS does a little too much channeling of SRV for my comfort.
Jeff and I were the only one’s who hung out, and about 11:00, Ruben the limo guy sent a Town Car to pick us up and take us back to the Hotel, which means I can’t make fun of his stretch Hummer, because he’s such a cool guy.
Tomorrow, the glamour ratchets up, as we fly back to Arkansas, get in the van, and drive to Iowa.
August 20th, Ft. Smith, Arkansas, 1:32AM
I'd like to take a minute to impart some Road Knowledge I've learned; when travelling, if you want to feel like a rock star, there are two simple words that will help; Cowboy Boots.
Now wait...hear me out. I started this tour with my beat up Dark Cherry's, and when I was in New Orleans, I picked up my light brown boots to bring with me (I was in a boot store today, and learned that they are Justin Peanut Brittle Iguanas that sell for just under $300. Not bad for a $25 thrift store score!). There are two ways the boot thing works; either you're in a place where people are used to the boots, and therefore are more likely to accept you, or you're somewhere totally incongruous to Cowboy Boots, like New York City, or Portugal, and then they take on an 'iconic' status. They're conversation starters for other musicians, go great with jeans or slacks, and give you an instant testosterone boost.
Oh sure, you laugh, but a good pair of boots are as comfortable as any other shoes, can be found used with a bit of searching, and even if you can't say "Chicks dig'em", they do make you feel cool wearing them. Try it next time you take a trip!
We're on a plane or two tomorrow headed for Austin. I gotta go to bed.
August 18th, Fayetteville, Arkansas, 1PM
Back on the bus. After the whirlwind trip to Spain and Portugal, we had three days off before any gigs were scheduled, and I took advantage of the lay off to meet up with Cindy at our joint in New Orleans. A reunion in the Big Easy; just what the Doctor ordered! A lot of good relaxing, broken up by eating. Perfect.
New Orleans is in a weird place, as the anniversary of Katrina approaches. So much of the main "tourist" areas are back to almost normal, but if you wander into any of the neighborhoods, it's still garbage piles and empty houses. So much of the promised money hasn't even made it to town yet, and no one's really sure about how the rebuilding will go. Spike Lee's documentary shows on HBO Monday and Tuesday, and I'm looking forward to seeing it.
So, as I said, back on the bus. Fayetteville tonight, followed by festivals in Ft. Smith and Austin, TX over the weekend. My father sent an Email saying that when he was a boy in Spiro, Oklahoma, Ft.Smith was the nearsest 'big town'. Everything really is relative!
This morning I flew from N.O. to Fayetteville, with a stop-over in Houston, and on the first leg of the trip, I was seated across the isle from Brian Stoltz and David Russell Batiste Jr.! For those of you who don't know, they're two members of The Funky Meters (no, George wasn't on the plane, dangit), and I'm a huge fan. I introduced myself, told them I was a fan, told them who I played for, and we had a conversation about gigs and touring, like peers! The Accomplished Impostor strikes again!
August 14th, Lisbon, Portugal, Around 6PM,
Admittedly, we get a pretty scewed view of the places we play. We roll into town, get put up in the local hotel (clue number one on how good the gig is), everyone goes out of their way to ask if we need anything, we´re fed by the locals, eithered catered or from resteraunts, and when the gig is over, everyone tells us how much they like us, thank us for coming, give us money, and we´re on our way.
In the case of the Praia Festival, my hotel suite looked like an Ikea showcase, the hotel staff was friendly, the stage crew was fun and accomadating, the food was insane, the show was crazy fun; like a big party with a few thousand of your best friends, and wherever we went, people thanked us for being there. After the show, the party kept going and Jeff, Mike and I ended up at this courtyard/nightclub/party with a live band. Instruments were fetched, drinks were bought, and the three of us put on a little show as the people surrounded us. We finally quit at about 6:00AM, because we had nothing left! Dragged my butt back to bed and closed the curtains tight against the rising sun.
All during our stay, and especially after the show and at the party, people were so full of praise for us, and I´d tell them " We thank you for having us. We´re fortunate to be in a position where people like you want to invite us to your place, take care of us in any way you can, and pay us just to play music!" It really is a silly way to make a living, and it would be pretty easy to let this whole thing go to your head.
I´ve got to take a minute to say a couple of things about the Azores. Wow. Really. Like I said, our view of places is a little wierd, and I can´t claim to know what the place is like when there´s not a festival going on, but I think this place is an undiscovered gem. It´s got friendly people and a good understanding of how to attract and keep the flow of tourist money, it´s got a definate óld Europe´vibe with it´s small shops, cafes, and cobblestone, and it´s got the ocean all around you! All of this only four and a half hours from New York! If I lived on the East Coast, this would be a vacation destination for sure. Apparently, there are direct flights every week connecting to Boston and Oklahoma.
We ofcourse, are lucky enough to experiance the miracle that is the Lisbon Airport. The flight from the Azores to Lisbon takes one hour and fifty minutes. Your luggage´s trip from the airplane to the baggage claim takes an additional one hour and forty five minutes. There are eight baggage carousels, but all flights that come in are sent to just one. You get to the carausel, and there are already about three hundred hot, sweaty, pissed off people there. Did I mention that they don´t seem to believe in air conditioning? A blight on an otherwise very cool country.
Home tomorrow! Through the Lisbon Airport? Okay, hopefully home tomorrow.
August 12th, Terciera, The Azores, 11:06AM
The laptop is battery is dead, and there´s no 110Volt in sight, so I´m at the mercy of hotel internet connections. Could be worse.
I have so much to write about Spain, but I don´t know if I really have time. Let me just say really quickly, that it was great. Gandia, where we stayed, is a beach, and everything that built up around there serves the beach. Lots of highrise vacation apartments and hotels. My room was four blocks from the Mediterrainian on the ninth floor, and I hauled the hotel bed onto the balcony and slept out there the three nights we stayed there. Our first show was in Benedorm, about 100klm away, and it seemed like a very cool city, but we just went to the venue. We opened for Eric Sardinas, and really won over a tough crowd. The next night we were in Gandia, and had a great time there too. Gandia is a beach resort that caters to mostly the Spanish; the only other language I heard for three days was the English that the band spoke. Let me tell you something about the Spanish on holiday: all night long. Nobody bothers to go out until 11:00. Discos don´t bother to open until 1 or 2 AM.
Yesterday was a travel day from hell; hour and a half drive, three different flights, and all the hanging around airports that accompanies that. Portugal is supposed to be a nice country, but I don´t understand why the Lisbon airport, through stupidity and a general lack of care, seems so hell bent on recreating a Calcutta train staion circa 1943. Nobody, and I mean nobody, did their job correctly or with any concern for the travellers from the moment we landed, to the moment we left five hours later. Idiots. An embarrasment to the entire country.
Now, we´re on Terciera Island in the Azores, and this place makes up for it. This is beautiful, and the people are great! This is a huge festival, and once again...all night. We got here in time to catch last nights headliner, Eric Sardinas, and hung out a bit. The stage, where we play tonight, is huge...really huge, with TV screens on either side and a great sound and light sysytem. Tons of people out into the wee hours; our set doesn´t start until 11:00PM. And my hotel room, across from the beach; slammin. I´ve got a suite, with a kitchen and a seperate bedroom. The island...or city...downtown, marina area is so cool. Very old world European right on the ocean. And only about four hours from New York!
Time to get some sun on me...before Siesta!
August 8th, Gandia, Spain, 9:05PM
After long travel hours, we made it. Three flights and a long van ride, lot's of dozing, and some bad food, but we're here on the shores of the Mediterrainian Sea, which is the majority of my view from my 9th floor balcony. I've moved the roller bed onto the balcony to enjoy the sights and sounds, and escape my snoring roommate.
After this, my computer battery will die, and until I'm back in the land of 110, no more connection. C'est la vie. I'll take notes and make a full report later.
August 7th, Hopkinsville, KY, 2:33AM
Tonight we played the inaugural, Tri-City Blues Festival here. These people were some of the nicest, sweetest people we have encountered. We headlined Sunday night, and recieved total star treatment. We had access to the Coutesy Suite, and our own dressing room, with a food spread that could have fed an army. Everyone was so appreciative of us just for being there. My friend Mark Seiver and his wife Licia drove across the state to hang out, and were given full VIP passes.
There was just one little problem; there was no one there. The heat, the fact that it was a Sunday night, the fact that it was the first festival...whatever it was, people stayed away. We took the stage around ten o'clock, and tore up the small crowd that was there. Nobody got cheated.
The big surprise for me was finding out we're leaving tomorrow for Spain. I thought I'd have a day for laundry and mail, but now I'm repacking all my stuff so I don't have to take everything with me. So don't be surprised if I'm out of touch for a while. I'm clueless about Internet Access in Europe, and how well the old laptop will perform. I'll write when I can.
August 6th, Chattanooga, TN, 10:38AM
Last night we played a club in downtown Chattanooga, and I have to say that the riverfront area here is really cool. Right on the banks of the Tennessee River there's a whole 'Downtown District', with resteraunts, an aquarium (found it!), a beautiful minor league baseball park, and all the shops, bars, theaters and other goodies that go with it, next to a beautifully maintained river bank. It was a warm evening, and the streets were full of people leaving the ball game, going out to dinner, playing in the water with their kids...urban planning at it's finest. The nightclub was full, and walk-ups didn't blink twice at the cover charge because they were out for a good time.
Today we're off to Kentucky, and then our next gigs are in Spain and Portugal (actually, the Azores) for a week, then back to Arkansas. I'm flying to New Orleans, if I can figure out my schedule, to spend a couple of days with Cindy at our place, and I'm actually looking more forward to that than Spain and Portugal. Don't get me wrong; I love travelling, and Spain and Portugal are going to be a lot of fun, but I haven't been home for a month now, and I miss my wife. Oh yeah, and the kids. But I'll see them later.
August 5th, Chattanooga, TN, 4:36PM
Back on line after a day of darkness in Charlotte, North Carolina. No fault of the states, it's just that The Double Door, the club we played last night, put us up in the lovely Mart Inn, and amongst other things, it lacked Internet. The sex toy in the bushes across from my door didn't really make up for it. America, you guys stay in some messed up motels. My excuse is that they're supplied as part of the deal with th gig, but people payed good for some of those rooms last night.
It wasn't that bad; we've had worse.The Motel 6 in Westbrook, Maine leaps to mind. I don't want to give the impression that I'm down on NC in any way. Our two gigs were great, playing for really receptive crowds and dealing with great staffs at the clubs themselves. The Double Door is one of those joints everybody plays, and they have the autographed pictures to prove it. I know my friend Jim Riddick and Satisfaction have been through there, and I see that Eric Lindell is there on September 23rd. Several people from John's management were at the show last night, and we played a good one, so the boss was happy. The last couple of days we've pretty much driven NC north to south inland, and it's a beautiful place; lots of green forrests and the Smoky Mountains offer some amazing views.
So tonight; Chattanooga, Tennessee. A couple of months ago, Cindy came here on business, and we laughed about her getting off the airplane and saying "Pardon me boy...". "Ah, very funny. Haven't heard that one before. You're a riot." I'm at the Days Inn River Gate Aquarium. Odd; it looks like a pretty standard Motor Lodge to me. I see no fish here at all. The room is actually pretty nice with the curtains closed, and I have it all to myself. Yay.
Tomorrow we're playing the Tri City Blues Festival in Hopkinsville, KY. I wonder what the other two cities are?
Here's a little side story; In 1980 or so, I was drinking in the bar of the American Hotel in Amsterdam, if I remember correctly, with Jon Hundt and I believe Derek Ritchie. A couple of guys from the English synth band "Our Daughters Wedding" were there also, and we were just kind of drinking and shooting the breeze when one of the ODW guys said he had to go press his slacks. "I wouldn't dream of going onstage without ironing me trousers." Scruffy rockers that we were, we found that very amusing, and laughed and retold that story for a while. So guess what I'm about to do? Yep. I'm not really a 'slacks' kind of guy, but it is a bit of a dress up gig, and the stuff gets pretty scrunched up in the suitcase.
August 4th, Hillsborough, NC, 1:37AM
Hooray for gigs! Back on the "Showtime" express. We played at the Blue Bayou tonight, and had a good time. We're in the grip of a heatwave, with temps hitting triple digits every day, and after a day laying in my room, it was great to play live even if the club was Air Conditioning Challenged. Tomorrow we move on to Charlotte, and the Double Door.
I can tell we're moving into the South, as people's accents change. The thing about the East Coast, is everything is so close together that it doesn't make a lot of sense to a West Coaster. A four hour drive, and you've got vastly different accents and sights. Boston, D.C., Philly, Baltimore and New York City are all next door to each other. All these cool big cities, each with their own vibe, all within 'Sunday Drive' distance. The big difference is that Californians are drivers; we'll go anywhere, and the East Coast doesn't seem to share that car love ideal, so I don't think they see their world as being quite as small as it seems to me.
August 2nd, Hillsborough, NC, 9:38PM
When I was a kid, Captain Kangaroo would read books to me, and one of my favorites was "Sam and the Firefly" about a mischievous Firefly who ends up saving the day by spelling words in the darkness using his light. When my own kids were born, "Sam and the Firefly" was one of the books I got to read to them. I can still see the illustrations of Gus writing "LOOKOUT" and other warnings.
Unfortunately, as a California boy, I'd never seen a real firefly until THIS WEEK! You know what? Fireflys are really cool. They don't actually write words, but still, very impressive. They light up just briefly as they take off, just a little pulse of light. At first, when I noticed them, I had no idea what was going on. I was a little worried I was having a stroke, but I figured it out.
What in the world is the evolutionary advantage of having your ass light up to point out your location?
August 1st, Rockville, MD, 10:01AM
Yesterday, I made an Executive Decision. We were supposed to check into the Motel 6 in Gaithersberg, but frankly, nobody was really in the mood to stay at yet another place where too many people live. So it was decided to move to the Red Roof Inn, where the rooms are much more expensive. The boss is in a happy place right now, so I might get away with it. I won't have to listen to any complaining while I'm here!
Last night, Mike, Jeff and I went into D.C. and looked around. All the monuments were lit up and the night was hot and muggy. We walked up Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House, just us and a lot of Police. We found our way to the Adams Morgan District, and for a middle of the night on a Monday, it was still kind of jumping, with a couple of live bands playing along the block. The three of us went in a Hooka Bar, to check it out. Harsh lighting and old linoleum, arabic television, middle eastern music, and several men playing cards...very cool. We ordered Persian Tea and a Hooka of Mango tobacco, and hung out. I even had a couple of hits, just to try it out - very, very smooth. Sort of a low key cool on a hot night.
July 30th, The Pocono’s, PA, 6:20PM
Frustratingly, I’m back on Word, because the Comfort Inn’s wireless is scatterbrained, and the McDonalds across the street doesn’t seem to have wireless. Crap.
We played the Pocono’s Blues Festival today, and it was great. We had the 1:30 slot, which meant that the sun hadn’t quite covered the stage. A welcome return to the “Tons of people” gig, after several small room gigs, including last nights weird Appalachian Brewing Co. gig in Harrisburg for people who didn’t seem to know what was going on. Put us in a big setting, playing with other bands, and we thrive. A lot of it has to do with comparing our set to other bands sets; it’s not that we’re that much better, but we do A Show, not just a set.
Here’s a little secret about my ego; I love walking through a crowd when we’ve just played a killer set. I love people congratulating me and asking me for autographs and telling me how much they liked it and how great…well, you get it. I suppose you can get tired and weary of the attention, but I sure haven’t yet.
We drove all morning from Harrisburg, and went straight to the festival, so we didn’t get checked into our motel until just a bit ago. When we arrived, Koko Taylor was sitting in the lobby, waiting to go to the festival. It was like meeting royalty, and she was very gracious and kind.
After eleven gigs in eleven days, we’re off until…the third? The fourth? So we’re off to D.C., Mike, Jeff and I. The other two are on their own agendas. Personally, I’d rather be playing. When we’re working, driving by day and doing gigs every night, it’s easier to forget about being homesick, and missing Cindy and the kids. Days off, or more specifically, nights off remind me how far I am from home. It’s even tougher this weekend, because this was Carolyn’s Theatrical Debut, the one thing on the schedule I knew I’d miss the most.
July 28th, Nyack NY, 4:42PM
Tonight's gig is in Peirmont, NY, a little community situated on the Hudson River, with some really spectacular homes built right on the banks. Another in our string of selling out little tiny rooms.
See, here's how quickly attitudes change; because I'm on the verge of complaining that we're only playing to 75 to 150 people, and for a lot of my gigs, those numbers would have been ideal. Someone yesterday said "I can't imagine what your life on the road is like" and I said, sure you could; don't wash yourself or your clothes, sit in your car 12 hours a day, and when you are around people, have them tell you how great you are.
I'm laughing as I write that (as well as when I said it). I'm not that cynical! Yet. My point here is that this Sunday at the big Pocono's Blues Festival will be great. The festivals are always so much fun. And big.
I got an Email from an old friend of mine, Jim Riddick, who plays 300 to 325 dates a year, all over the place with Satisfaction, a touring Stones tribute. He said he's enjoying, and relating to the Diary, and made some "Carefull what you wish for" comment. Why I oughtta...
We have a few - three?, four? days off after Sunday, so we're hanging around Washington D.C. for a couple of days, for...various...reasons, before heading for North Carolina. The gooder news is that I'll probably have my own room. Hmmm...wonder if anyone needs a Blues/rock trio?
July 28th, Nyack NY, 4:00AM
We played in New York City tonight, at Terra Blues in the heart of Greenwich Village. It was very cool, but unfortunately, we're not staying in the city, but about 45 minutes north. We drove into the city around 6:30, and then found out that there were contract mistakes, and we we're supposed to play from 10:30 to 2:30. Whatever. We had fun just hanging out on the street watching the world wander by. I need to come back and spend some time in NYC. I've only had the smallest taste, but now I can say that I've played New York City.
July 25th, Waterville, ME, 11:41
Tonight's gig was weird; the crowd - a sellout for the venue - obviously liked the show, but nobody danced until the very end. I think it was a "Tuesday night 7PM Dinner" thing. Nobody was really ready to whoop it up at that hour.
The staff at the two "Midnight Blues" clubs (Auburn and Waterville) were great, but they have a halfassed P.A., and the soundman didn't show up until 6:30 for a 7:00 show.
Listen how spoiled I am already; "The nerve of these people not to worship me!"
Dean Markley sent me six sets of NPS Roundcore Strings. John has a string endorsement (?), so I guess whatever I need, just ask.
Along those same lines, I contacted Gallien Krueger and said "This is what I'm doing, and I'm using your 1001 RB II. If I wanted to buy some GK cabs, can I get a deal?" It looks like I can get a "Featured Performer" price break if I wanted a pair of Neo 1x12s. It's tempting, but I'm really enjoying my tone with the Avatar 2x12. The concept of getting endorsement deals is pretty intoxicating though. "Hi, I'm Kennan Shaw, bass player. When I get off stage, nothing says 'job well done' quite like a Hubig's Pie..."
July 25th, Waterville, ME, 2:02PM
The cool thing about playing these dates in Maine, is that a good portion of the people who are coming to see us, saw us at the North Atlantic Blues Festival last weekend, and loved us enough to come see us again, and in some cases bring their friends. We're like returning heroes.
Okay, that was too much even for me. I apologize. I'm just sayin', they really like us. And it's cool.
Last night's show was at the Time Out in Rockland, and it did have a 'hometown crowd' feel. Some people even remembered my name.
One thing I'm struggling with out here is my health. I'm eating more fruits and vegetables than I do at home, staying clear of the fried stuff as much as possible, and drinking a lot of water and V8, but I still have this "Air Condidtioner Throat". I've been taking an Airborn a day, to ward off any Colds that try to gain a foothold. There was a two day stretch where the food was really good, and I ended up eating after midnight, which left me feeling pretty lethargic, so now I try to eat an early dinner, and go to bed on a empty stomach. Works better.
July 24th, Auburn Maine, 9:06AM
Back in Maine for a four day stint. Should make the driving easier for a little bit anyway. The crowds are great, and a lot of people at Midnight Blues last night had seen us at the North Atlantic festival, with a few commenting on the Sunday night jam at the Time Out. It was a hell of a lot of fun, and I guess just about everyone else picked up on that. We're playing the Time Out tonight.
July 22nd, Cromwell, CT, 4:52PM
The good news; I've got my own room again, here at the Super 8. The bad news; this cheap little place is about twenty minutes by freeway to Black Eyed Sally's in Hartford, where we're playing tonight. All in all, I'll take it.
Butch Ammons found this on YouTube and posted it; John Lee Hooker Jr.
Cool! This was Ottawa, the second show of the tour. Hey Ma! I'm on YouTube! Thanks for the heads up, Butch.
Let me introduce everyone to Jeff Horan. His stage name is Jeffrie James, he's been on the road with John going on five years now, and he's still about five months shy of his 21st Birthday. I've been playing bass a long time, and I've had the priviledge of playing with some amazing guitarists like Danny Click and Brad Gillis, and I think Jeff is well on his way to making a serious name for himself. Our second set opener "Hideaway" has been getting standing ovations, and when we got to Owego yesterday, one of the first questions was "Which one of you is the guitarist? We've heard to watch for him."
Generally speaking, the idea of being on the road with a Twenty year old sounds more like babysitting than playing, but Jeff is a total professional, and while he's not adverse to partying, it's always after the gig. He's friendly, humble, appreciative, and funny. The thing that will really make him a contender is his thirst for knowledge about music and guitar; he's constantly studying, and while the "Show" we do every night doesn't vary a lot, on any given night he'll slip just a hint of what he's been playing with that day. One night it's some jazz style octave runs. Thursday he bought the CD "Band of Gypsies" and that night little pieces of "You Don't Know" snuck into the mix. I just tell people that for Jeff, the sky is the limit.
July 22nd, Owego, New York, 12:45AM
Chances are you would have a hard time finding Owego on a map; we did. As it turns out, tonight was extra special.
Not too long ago, this area was hit with a ton of storms, and the Susquahana River overflowed, and flooded Owego that sits on its banks. In a town of 2500, 800 homes were damaged or destroyed, and Marshall Law was declared. This idealic little town, established in 1734 was devastated.
John talked about his sympathy for the town in an interview for a local paper, and as a result, the local Legislature decided to declare July 21st "John Lee Hooker Jr. Day" in Owego. Really. Key to the city stuff.
Ironically...or fittingly...anyway, the gig tonight was at The Jailhouse, a cool reseraunt in the building formerly used as...the jail. Check out the new pictures below. The tables are in the cells, and all the furniture is made from the old beds or the catwalk. David and Fred opened this joint about a year ago, and have been hosting blues shows and putting on festivals in the town square across the street, and they really know how to take care of bands! I've never - n e v e r - been fed like that on a gig. World class cuisine, and they fed us lunch and dinner, plus put the kitchen at our disposal for whatever we wanted. I just dusted off my Shark Special - all of it - and I've still got half of a Chicken Chipotle Wrap in my fridge from lunch. I couldn't eat all of it because we sampled all the Barbeque this afternoon.
I've been conscious of eating well out here, and have actually dropped a belt-notch, but after today, it's back to square one.
Also, the band got five rooms at the Holiday Inn, so no sharing! Woohoo!
The show itself was outside, on a makeshift stage with kind of scrounged P.A. gear; so much equipment was lost in the flooding. Locals "String of Pearls" opened with a cool set of standards, held down by bass goddess Carol "Cookie" Baker, who rocks, and hoots and hollers pretty good too. Then, after a brief ceremony, with a certificate presented to John, we did our thing, and ripped it up once again. The porch was full, the sidewalk was full, and the park across the street had a good crowd. The thing that stands out is how everyone thanked us for playing their "small insignificant town". They were grateful. I couldn't believe it; these people have been through so much, and here they were treating us like Kings and thanking us.
So the next time you're in New York west of Binghampton, along the beautiful Susquahana, check out the little town of Owego. Stop in at the Jailhoue for a meal - the ribs are stupendous - and see for yourself what a small, American gem the town is. And remember to look on the door jam, on the left, about shoulder height, for my autograph. It's there with the rest of the band, and all the others who've played the Jailhouse in the course of their tours, like Coco Montoya, and Tommy Castro.
I hope I get to come back.
July 21st, Milford, PA, 12:52AM
Hooray for gigs. Gigs make everything better. Today, load in sucked, set up sucked, sound check sucked, sucked sucked sucked...everybody's cranky and tired...until we start playing. It's like a great big happiness pill.
We played the Sellersville Theater, one of those great old places built in 1874. Everyone started the night off seated and polite, and by the end of the first set, everybody's up and making noise.
Eleven shows in the next eleven days. Tomorrow, in Owego, New York, there's a rumor that the Mayor...well, that will have to wait.
In the "When it rains it pours" catagory, when we finished playing tonight, I got a phone call from an unfamiliar number. When I answered, it was Eric Lindell calling to find if I was available for a couple of things. Dang. Eric's new record is out on Alligator now, and it's really really good. In fact, take a minute, and buy John Lee Hooker Jr.'s "Cold As Ice" and Eric's "Change in the Weather". They're both great records.
It looks like we'll be at Biscuits and Blues for New Years Eve. Close to home!
July 20th, Milford, PA, 2:20PM
The laundry is done, the van is tuned up, and we're finally playing a show tonight at the Sellersville Theater. Despite the kindness of the local population (except that pushy bitch that cut the line in Boston Market yesterday), I'm sick of this little corner of Pennsylvania. I want to get back to playing.
According to the staff at Midas in Quakertown, the van was about two point six miles from blowing up and taking half of Upper Buck county with her. Well, maybe not, but there were problems - big ones - that have all been solved.
I spent some time figuring out my Digital Recorder, and now I can record more than six minutes at a time. Duh.
I'll write more after the show, but frankly, after all this idle time, I've got nothing to say.
July 18, 2006, Milford, PA, 10:20PM
Let me explain how this has worked for a couple of days now; we’ve been staying in places with no internet access, either Firewire or Wireless. What I’ve done is write this stuff out on ‘Word’, and then try to find wireless the next day. This morning I was behind my hotel in York Beach in Maine, next to a fence, stealing Wireless from the house next door just long enough to upload the entry into my website and check my Email. So now, it really is the 18th, and I am in Milford, I think, but who knows where I’ll be when I can post this.
Back to the main story; after leaving Rockport as conquering heroes…well, ‘well received’ at least, we headed for York Beach in southern Maine, with a stop off in Portland for a T.V. interview. On the way, we found out that through a management snafu, there was no gig that night at Inn on the Blues. So we’re stuck with three nights off, not making money. Joe at the club was very apologetic, and a real stand up guy, so we went by the club and he comped us drinks, with lots of promises about ‘next time’.
We decided to go ahead and drive all the way to our next gig in Sellersville, PA. Then we could have a ‘true’ day off without having to travel, and we could get our laundry done, get the van worked on, and take care of personal business that gets neglected while we’re working. Unfortunately, right now we’re a few miles off the beaten track. See, on days off, we end up in the cheapest joint that can be found. Jeff and Mike, who smoke, basically have a ‘crack’ room in a “Lodge”.
Everybody’s pretty edgy; we had no gig last night in a resort town, drove all day in the van, and now we’re in the middle of no where in a dumpy motel, with no gig until the 20th. This is five guys in close quarters for extended periods of time. Plus, we get our own rooms for the big gigs, but club gigs and nights off we have to double up, so ‘alone time’ is non-existent. Let me tell you a secret; I’ve been promoting infidelity just to try an get my own room. Don’t tell anybody.
The other problem is that no gigs means we’re not being rock stars; were just five dorks in a van. There’s no ego gratification! I can’t think of too many jobs where days off are so unwelcome. I suppose I could start using phrases like “Don’t you know who I am?”
July 17th, York Beach, Maine, 11:12PM
I’m writing this entry in “Word”, because I haven’t been able to connect to the Internet for days, and I wanted to get this stuff down before I forget where I was!
Following the amazing gig in Tremblant, we headed for the never-ending drive to Woonsocket, Rhode Island. The trip took all day, and we pulled up in front of Chan’s - a fairly well known stop on the ‘Blues Circuit’ – about an hour before the scheduled 8:00 start. Chan’s is a fairly cool club, but we were tired, hungry, and just coming off of back to back festival crowds, and now we were playing a Chinese Restaurant. What really capped off the whole thing were the accommodations supplied by the club. It’s been many many years since I’ve been in a dumpier motel. The Woonsocket Motor Lodge was probably a dump when it was built during the fifties. Today it’s just gross. I pulled back the covers, and decided to sleep on top of the bedspread.
The gig was fine; we played well, and if the stage was that much smaller, it meant that we had to try to be a little tighter. The people were great, as was the staff. It’s fun to talk to people, because it reminds you of perspectives on music that you loose when you’re working on it from the musicians side of the stage; people care about music and want just a small connection with the musicians. Everyone has stories about how they used to play, or how their kids play, or stories about shows they’ve seen, and they talk to you like you’re their friends.
Meanwhile, back at the Woonsocket Motor Lodge, if there was any saving grace, it was that the plan was to leave for Maine at 3:00 AM. I dozed on top of the bed for a couple of hours, then took first shift in the driver’s seat. Despite how nice the people were, I was glad to put Woonsocket in the rear-view.
The advice we had was that we had at least a seven hour drive to Rockport, with an 11:00AM load in, and a12:15PM start time at the North Atlantic Blues Festival. My favorite line was from a cop who said “Maine is the Texas of New England.”
Naturally, we had bum info, and arrived in Rockport about 9:00AM, and found out that our start time was actually 1:30. Naturally, the hotel rooms were nowhere near ready. Naturally, we just tried to make the best of it, goofing around in the lobby talking to all the people who were there for the festival. Wendy and the Tradewinds Staff were great, working to throw Tab Benoit and his band (who had appeared the day before) out so we could have their rooms!
We were on the Sunday bill, and the night before had been the “Blues Bar Crawl” in town. Everyone we saw was hung over, but really happy. People wait all year for this event, and they love it. The hotel takes reservations starting the Monday after it ends, and sells out by the middle of the day.
The show itself…was…phenomenal. We grabbed the crowd, (estimates put attendance in the five figure range) and everybody was standing, everybody was singing, and everyone was dancing! They loved every minute of our hour long set.
It’s become apparent that we’re onto something special. I don’t want to disrespect any of the acts that followed us, but nobody churned the crowd up the way we did, save the headliner, Johnnie Winter (who looks pretty frail these days, but still slams the guitar). Nobody had the response we had, and the rest of the day was spent fielding overwhelming compliments, and being treated like total celebrities. Everyone wanted to be sure we were going to be in the clubs that night for the jams – the traditional blow-out-ending to the Fest.
Well, who are we to buck such a tradition? That night, Jeff, Mike and I headed for the Time Out, the bar that serves as ‘party central’ during the Fest. Everyone continued the barrage of star treatment, and kept asking if we were going to play (even though I was clutching my bass). We listened and cheered for the locals, and when I went up to the guy running the jam, I introduced myself and said “My friends and I play with John Lee Hooker Jr., do you think we can play?” He put us up instantly, and we called up Larry McCray, a total veteran who played before us on the Sunday Bill. We also had a local keys player, and a local Sax player.
We tore the damn place up. The whole floor was shaking as we slammed through “Hideaway”, a slow blues, and then a funky version of “Voodoo Child”. We could have been elected co-Mayors of the entire town at that point. We couldn’t have paid for drinks if we wanted to, and I received a very cool Cherokee blessing for continued, and growing success. Lately during shows John has taken to calling the band his “weapons of mass destruction”, and we feel like we have to live up to that whenever and wherever we play. I’m really interested in where this whole thing will be by the end of this tour. John’s selling the new disc “Cold As Ice” by the boxload, and can’t keep up with T-Shirt orders.
Lots of partying was done that night, and all of these people who plan their social calendar said they hoped we return next year. So after shaking hundreds of hands and signing tons of autographs, we headed for York Beach. But That story will have to wait. I’m tired.
July 15th, 2:12 AM, Tremblant, Quebec.
Every day, it gets better. My room today is crazy; kitchen, bedroom, fireplace, and a balcony overlooking the piazza three stories down. Tremblant is a huge Ski Resort north of Montreal, and it's gorgeous. I keep forgetting I'm in North America (Do they use Euros here?). We headlined tonight, and got our full 90 minutes, and we killed them! John had them eating out of his hands. And we're talking thousands again - probably a lot more than last night. The band gets better with every show. A lot of autograph signing and effusive praise wherever we went in the town.
Tomorrow is a reality check; we have to check out of our plush suites in a beau
