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Road Ration - Slog Across America '96
- 2/7/96 - 2/13/96
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Off March 6th |
Headed west across Kansas, forever, with cold feet and a stomach full of breaded and fried comfort. Federal highway funds diverted into someone else's agenda make my fingers miss their mark. I'm trying to describe a bumpy road. |
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The Underground Club Colorado Springs, CO Mar. 7 |
Tonight while we were playing a dreamy, super-slow song called "With No Definite Future..." I watched a girl feel the music. First she was watching and kind of nodding her head. But then she closed her eyes and started to sway gently back and forth. At one point near the end of the song where the melody comes in for the last time, she got this little secret smile on her face. Her eyes closed, swaying, smiling a private smile...I knew she felt everything. And I was really happy, it made me smile because that's how I feel the music sometimes, when it's right. Spent the night at Eric's and got to do laundry. Eric promoted the show and owns a house nearby. We bbq chicken outside on the grill and debate the hot tub at 12 degrees fahrenheit. The chicken takes 3 hours to cook at 7,000 feet. Someone puts in The Holy Grail. Someone else starts repeating every word, and looking at us to gauge our reactions. I go to bed. |
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The Bluebird Theatre Denver, CO Fri. Mar. 8 |
Best show of the tour. This theatre used to be a porn house. Completely rebuilt two years ago. It's beautiful, it's big, the sound system is top shelf, great beers on tap, friendly employees. 600 people fill up the hall with noise. Space Team Electra , just before us, were great, I was moved, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching them play. We played over two hours with two encores and after we finished I tended bar for another hour and a half. Danny, an Irish expat, teaches me the proper method for pouring a black and tan. |
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Mountain Tap Fort Collins, CO Mar. 9 |
Before driving up to Fort Collins we stop at Twist & Shout, an excellent record store in Denver where John Entwistle is appearing to sign autographs. I get his road manager to take my '66 Gibson Thunderbird bass back to him before he comes out to the crowd of people. The road manager brings it back signed and tells me The Ox remarked that I was: "still playing this old thing!" But he wouldn't let me meet the Man, claiming he was: "in a bad mood." As we were already late for our own soundcheck we had to bolt. Mountain Tap is a tiny local college-kid bar. We open for the same band we played with in Cleveland--the one the local music editor walked out on because she didn't like "stupid music." We play cramped on the smallest stage yet. Friends in the audience banter with us. We do an all request night for "Tony" Cimino, who made us a big pasta dinner complete with sourdough bread baked by his mother. Any song he wants to hear. All set long. It makes it easier on us. We stay at his partner Steve's basement apa rtment and, in the morning, discover by phone that we have won a Bammie award for best indie album of 1995 with "A Glorious Lethal Euphoria." We shake our heads in wonderment, sure that we have gotten away with something. |
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The Fox Theatre Boulder, CO Sat. Mar. 10 |
We open for 7 Seconds, a punk band that has been together longer than us, and Skankin' Pickle, another longstanding ska band working the circuit. We play a short but good set and actually win the crowd over by its end. Given that it's not really our audience, we did pretty well. This hall smells bad. Most of the bar crew and security have big rock attitude. I guess being the big fish in the little pond of Boulder makes 'em that way. Reminds me of The Catalyst, in Santa Cruz, CA. After several hours of herding band, crew and friends together in the "nine-headed dog effect" we head north and west into the mountains to Biz and James' house. Multi-level, high-ceilinged and wide-window'd, over 7,000 feet, these guys put us up last year after hearing me ask for somewhere to stay during a radio interview on KGNU-FM, in Boulder. Biz is friends with Dave Arnsen of The Insect Surfers and she just happened to be listening, called the station, we got to talking and she invited us up. |
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Day off at Biz and James' house Boulder, CO Sun. Mar. 11 |
Everyone falls about the place, into the hot tub, into the music room, into the kitchen. I fall into bed. Sick with the flu. The next 18 hours are spent in a stupor. Biz makes me soup. On a balmy mountain morning, while everyone else slept it off from last night I spend an hour in the water, outside in the sun. At dark we leave for Tulsa. |
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The Ikon Tulsa, OK Mon. Mar. 12 |
We open again for Dash Rip Rock, who we opened for at the "worst show of the tour," Mandeville, LA, way back in late January. Tulsa empties out after dark and, looking for some food in my weakened and depressed state, I wander into an open office complex to ask the guy behind the glass where I could possibly get some soup. He looks me up and down and says, doubtfully: "Salvation Army?" Tulsa is clean, polite and big on security. |
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The road to Houston Tues. Mar. 13 |
We wake up late and wander away south to Texas. Arrive after midnight at The Allen Park Hotel. I think it's a good omen. I think I'm getting better. Weather warm and humid. Winter is finally over. |
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Urban Art Bar Houston, TX Wed. Mar. 14 |
Back again, same tour! Very few people but we play a great goofy show. The band up before us boasted a lead singer who was a "Miss Missouri." I stared, in amazement, at her cloying antics and high shoulder shrug "who-me?" smiley thank-you's to the crowd hollering after the groups' set-piece ditties. Weather just getting better and better. |
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Steamboat (SXSW) Austin, TX Thurs. Mar. 15 |
Perfect day! Driving south to Austin and listening to Jim and Martyn argue the finer points of human nature at the top of their lungs doesn't bother me. Green, sun, warmth. I pull out my sandals. We have driven through winter and it is no longer us. 6 p.m. show at a premier Austin club. Small but enthusiastic turnout. Club owner gets stoned with Roz and promises to have us back. Outside in the evening Austin is hopping. Jim, George and Debra from Mesa/Bluemoon show up unexpectedly and take us out to a very civilized dinner. I'd forgotten about this kind of eating experience. All ten of us from dinner pile into three taxis and I finagle myself in with the Mesa people. Our record company friends bicker gently among themselves during the ride to the second show, at midnight. I think to myself that they sound just like The Mermen but quieter. |
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Schultz Garden(SXSW) Austin, TX Thurs. Mar. 15 |
Big open outdoor space, we play 2nd to last. 40 minutes, 5 tunes. Frenetic energy and crowd dancing! Two shows in one day. I'm exhausted. |
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The Drive to El Paso Fri. Mar. 16 |
Sleep late at the Sheinkins, last stop at a poetry reading to see Juliette Torres, our friend from Albuquerque, give a smoking recital of her visceral irony, all done up in that indescribable voice. After dark we head west. This is a hell of a drive, but on this circuit, unavoidable. |
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The Attic El Paso, TX Sat. Mar. 17 |
We arrive at 2 p.m. after thirteen hours on the road and grab a hotel bed and sleep til 6 p.m. and drive over to The Attic. We play with Lydia Lunch who Martyn describes as saying "'Fuck' a lot..." About 15 people stay seated right in front for the 50 minutes we play. |
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On the way to Tuscon Sun. Mar. 18 |
First we backtrack three hours to Carlsbad Caverns through the Guadalupe Mountains. Incredible country. Everyone goes down in the caves and experiences differing levels of awe and amazement. Everyone promises themselves that they will return here. I don't go down. I lay on my back, in a space off the beaten tourist track, out in the desert, under the clear, startling blue sky. At sunset we drive back through El Paso, TX and stay the night in Las Cruces, NM. During the drive, no longer able to control myself, I force everyone to listen to "Leftoverture", by Kansas. I never need to hear it again. |
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Club Congress Tucson, AZ Mon. Mar. 19 |
This area of the world is truly magical. I can watch a mountain range come into view above the horizon, shift color and postion, pass by me and finally drop out of sight over the course of two hours, and all at 65 mph. Space. In Tucson I visit a store selling paraphenalia about Angels. A mother and two daughters, working their first day, tell me that I remind them of her son (their brother). The boy's name is the same as a street I used to live on. I buy a book and we exchange smiles and hugs all around. Back in the lobby of the Congress I get a pair of sox to replace a pair that flew out the window of the van today. The man takes my money and gives me a picture of a white cloud-dotted blue sky that says "miracle" in red ink. We sleep/eat/play at The Club Congress/Congress Hotel. It's an historical landmark with the best marriage of deco and southwest decor imaginable. The sun sets quietly in 75 degree heat. Right beside us the trains rumble past. We play a 70 minute set opening for a hiphop DJ. The crowd is remarkably polite, for homestylists.... After dinner Martyn and I tear over to the station to see off the 1 a.m. Amtrak, headed west. We talk to the engineers and stand next to the motors. The train pulls out and we walk back to the hotel , talking animatedly of touring by train. There were "American Orient Express" cars coupled onto the back. It would be so civilized..... |
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The Dragonfly Los Angeles, CA Tues. Mar. 20 |
Last show of the tour. Wake early (for us) in Tucson, drive route 10 to route 8, above Calexico. At Yuma we cross the border into California. Cheers all around. At El Centro we pick up route 86 north and just west of The Salton Sea and blow out a tire on the trailer. Roz and Mark have it changed in twenty minutes. We pick up route 10 again, coming through the mountains into the L.A. basin and Leslie gets pulled over for speeding. She gets a ticket. Approaching Los Angeles the air thickens, the temperature cools and visibility drops rapidly. Jim says that we've gone from highways to hellways. Southern California. This is the end. A resident Angelino assures me that if people watch and merely nod their heads "they love you!" Will L.A. and I ever get along? Who cares. Tomorrow I fly up to Oakland, to my lover, my books, my kitchen, my tree outside the window, my bed. |
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The end of the tour Wed. Mar. 21 |
For everyone who put us up... (or put up with us.) A band comes to your house: you think: "Cool! I get to show some appreciation and return the gift that they have given me by giving them a place to stay for the night"....well, get ready....because the hidden truth of "band sleepovers" is about to get the bright light of rational thinking shone upon it. MARVEL! as they ask idiot questions ("where's the bathroom?") GOGGLE! as they argue, bicker and rant about who gets the one bed. SEND OUT FOR TRANQUILIZERS! as the guitar tech riles up your dogs to a frantic pitch. GET OUT OF THE WAY! as they raid your fridge CONCEAL RAGE! as the soundman hits on your girlfriend THRILL! as they sleep til 3 p.m. the next day SMILE IRONICALLY! as you respond to their thanks and thinly vieled hints about "when we come through this way again" SIGH! as they leave your house a shambles GRIN RUEFULLY! as you say to yourself: "never again" Thanks you beautiful ones, we'll never forget it. You know who you are. |
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1/15/96 - 1/22/96 ||
1/23/96 - 1/30/96 ||
1/31/96 - 2/2/96 ||
2/3/96 - 2/6/96 ||
2/6/96 - 2/13/96 ||
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2/14/96 - 2/20/96
2/21/96 - 2/26/96
2/26/96 - 3/5/96
3/6/96 - 3/21/96
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