Middle seat of the van, Thursday, February 25th, 5pm eastern time, heading east through southern Kentucky . . .

PF here, just checking in again with you folks. We’re currently headed through the Daniel Boone National Forest in the Kentucky hills, making our way to Whitesburg, Kentucky to play at Summit City Lounge. Hopefully we’ll see some old friends and make some new ones to boot.

When last I left ye, we were leaving Eureka Springs, dashing towards Memphis. Alas, the Memphis gig was a bust. It happens sometimes, it’s true, but it never fails to leave you feeling more than a little stupid. The booker for the club had assured us that the trivia night would be over by 9, and we’d be on by 10. Somehow, the words “over by” and starting at” must have gotten mixed up in his head – in other words, we roll in a little before 9, and the trivia night is just starting. Now, far be it from ME to perhaps assume that an audience would be interested in a little background music while they do trivia, but apparently the mental rigors required to match a beer brand with it’s slogan are too much for any outside distraction. So, not to be deterred, we headed into downtown Memphis, loaded up on BBQ and headed for Nashville, our planned late night destination. Sorry Memphis, we’ll try again soon, we promise . . .

Wednesday, February 24th (my birthday): Nashville TN:

We were staying with a friend of Graham’s – James – who is a former Richmonder, a musician, and a great guy. He lives in the Belmont neighborhood of Nashville, on the southern end. It’s a sweet part of town, right next to Belmont College, an area of Nashville where we’d never before been.

I’ll pause right now to say that our experiences in Nashville, “Music City,” have been mixed, to say the least. On our first two visits to town, we played at a shitty little club called Cafe Coco, where you’re allowed to play on their stage and put up with the animosity of the wait staff and soundman in exchange for tips and, if you’re lucky, some applause. Since it’s open 24 hours, this place has posters in the bathrooms, alerting you that, if you should spend more than 5 minutes in there, they’ll call the cops on you. Apparently, there was a little problem with junkies shooting up and nodding off, while late night diners are just trying to pee. OK, so, not a great spot, not great gigs, basically, you leave there, knowing that Nashville neither wants nor needs you, especially if you’re not trying to play some pop-style of whatever genre you happen to play.
Our third trip to Nashville was a different story – the Independent Music World Series at 3rd and Lindsley, which, if you’ll remember, we won. That was nice. We got paid well (in giant novelty check form), and left feeling victorious. However, under that victory was, to me anyway, a strange bitter and confusing taste of having just been judged by industry professionals. How did they decide? What criteria is used to decide whether a band is bound for stardom or obscurity? Talent isn’t it, because after that show we headed to the strip of Nashville to celebrate and watched the horribly pitiful scene of a crazy good guitarist being forced to play classic rock standards for pass the hat – he played “Can’t You See,” by the Marshall Tucker Band THREE times in the 45 minutes we were in there, at the request of drunks at the bar. It was unnerving to see such ability squandered and unappreciated. Didn’t make professional musician seem like such a great job title. Anyway . . . about our FOURTH trip.

In the morning we were scheduled to be interviews on WSM – 650 AM. This involved a trip to Opryland, which is a bit like Dollyland. There’s something so incredible about these islands of commerce and schlock, shining in the distance with over the top architecture and false front feeling (not too dissimilar from Oral Roberts University, to be honest). Anyway, it is a big thing for us to get to be on WSM, as you might imagine. On top of the excitement of the interview and performance, we also got free valet parking! This van may never again get that service. The interview went off without a hitch, and I think we were both amusing and entertaining to the DJ, and hopefully the listening audience.

The actual gig was at the Loveless Cafe, outside of Nashville just a bit. A big barn, all set up for performance, or perhaps a square dance. We roll in for our soundcheck, and are greeted by the sound engineers and managers like we were actually expected and, more importantly, like they were happy to see us! Our liaison, Laurie, talked us through the night (live broadcast, scheduling an interview, food, drinks, our own luxury coach to relax in (!!!!), and how HAPPY she was that we were there). It was a great introduction.

Showtime came around, and we are on the bill with 4 other acts – Wil Kimbrough, the Vespers, Amber Digby, and Ashley Cleveland. We were second to last, a flattering place to be put, no doubt, but probably having to do with our level of intensity as much as anything else. The barn was full up with people, and our show hosts were Bill Cody and Eddie Stubbs, someone who had a huge influence upon my personal interest in bluegrass music, both as a musician with he Johnson Mountain boys and, more importantly as the host of Bluegrass Country on WAMU in the DC area, every day from 3-6pm when I was a kid. The acts before us were great, although certainly bent more towards the nostalgic and pretty side of music. We’ve heard about those sides of music, but never had much experience in that realm. Anyway, we got up and shook it around for 20 minutes, much to the delight of the crowd, and then also rejoined the stage at the end of the night for a superjam version of “Higher Ground,” an odd choice, we thought, but hey, we jus’ do as we’re told, all “yessir,” and “nossir!” It was, all around, a great experience, and I didn’t even mention the VIP room with booze and fried chicken, or the gift baskets we all got (posters, mugs, water bottles, biscuit mix, strawberry jam, boot socks), or that the Vietti Chili Cowgirl was there!

After the show, James took us to an old time jam in east Nashville, which was the perfect topper of the evening. We roll into the place (Matty’s, I think), and it’s a big room with lots of jams taking place. We chatted with some folks for a while, saw some old festival pals (of course), and then took up in the corner with a few guys from the Hogslop Stringband. It was a blast – these guys are all about North Georgia oldtime music, with the short bow fiddles, the wild bass runs on the guitar, and the ridiculous high pitched singing, a la Gid Tanner. Within a tune, we had a massive, three banjo, 6 fiddle jam taking place. These jams may not be the best for the clarity of music, but when you are in the middle of it, surrounded by all the melody, it is fairly uplifting, to say the least. Anyway, oldtime music and bars, you can imagine how the night ended, and how the morning felt.

So, in short, our fourth Nashville experience = #1 ace best super time!!

Reports from the road . .

PF here folks, just sitting in downtown, underground Eureka Springs, Arkansas. That’s right! The Hot Seats have invaded Arkansas. We are halfway through our little jaunt through the lower midwest, and have thoroughly enjoyed ourselves thus far, let’s have a quick recap, shall we?

Thursday, February 18th: Indianapolis.

This was a big day of driving. Luckily, we have our new van, which handles the hills and valleys like a greased up stallion, snorting and hoofing the dirt, haunches all a’glisten, just taunting the inclines and synclines with it’s haughty whinny . . . wait, what was I talking about? Oh yes, it was a 11 hour drive (with all of our pee breaks and constant pulling over at every scenic byway), and we rolled into Indy right before showtime. The Vollrath Tavern is much like many of the places we play – a neighborhood-y type of establishment, TV on, regulars well-planted at the bar. An uneventful setup and performance, the crowd was pretty into it, however, hooting and hollering. We were supposed to be on a three band bill, but The End Times Spasm Band, our Fort Wayne pals, weren’t able to make it. The other band on the bill was a group from Indy called Harley Poe. Kind of a Dead Milkmen vibe, I thought – very high energy and quirky, with lots of songs about vampires and also cannibalism (so right up our alley, you might imagine). Another typical Indy night for us, inasmuch as we had almost no repeat customers, but those who attended were happy with our product, which is to say that they hooted and hollered, as I said before.

After the show, we cruised to Bloomington, the current home of our very own Heironymous Volcano and his lovely wife, Esmerelda Campbell-Volcano. We stayed up too late, and crashed out.

Friday, February 19th: Press Photos and St Louis.

In the morning, we (I) got fully caffeinated and sat around, goofing on this and that – much of our general conversation is hilarious to us, but probably every group of friends feels the same way, we’ll get back to this in a little while. Given that we have a new member of the group Graham “Nickname Not Yet Established” DeZarn, it seemed prudent to take new press photos. Which we did in the Campbell-Volcano’s kitchen and backyard. I’ll post a few for your consideration. The taking of a press photo is a hard thing for us. The last thing you want is a band in front of a brick wall, or any wall, really, it’s just terribly cliché and overdone. Same thing with bluegrass bands near trains or tractors or some relic of the good ol’ days. Not our thing, you know? So . . . well, you can see for yourself what we came up with and let us know what you think.

Around midday we departed for St. Louis, our first foray into the state of Missouri. We rolled in and went immediately to the house of Mister Pokey LaFarge. Now, Pokey is certaionly someone you’ve heard me mention before, and perhaps you are now a fan. If not, please allow me to ask you to consider/reconsider the man and his band – The South City Three – for they are fabulous. Unlike so many of the modern stringbands, who distill the sound in order to present something more modern or palatable, Pokey and his boys keep it gritty and raggy, but also full of ingenuity and non-standard/cliche lyrics. Also, they look great. Ok, so anyway, we have a little dinner with Pokey and then head off to the club – a great spot called Off Broadway. By the time we get on, the crowd is large (maybe 170 people) and ready for action. We play a great show, they especially like the Beef Suite (everyone does), and hen Poke and his boys get up and rock the crowd for a bit.

RANT #1 I would like to pause for a moment and mention a little show-etiquette point. If you, the crowd, want an encore – you HAVE to clap and shout and ask for it! Otherwise, the soundman will pipe in house music after about 3 seconds of silence. After Pokey and the South City Three stopped their final song, the crowd kind of petered out in volume, so they got off stage. And then, I heard many folks talking amongst themselves, “Why didn’t they do an encore?” Well . . . because you didn’t cheer for one. There’s nothing more humiliating as a band than asking for your own encore. So, if you want it . . . stomp and cheer and clap. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when you don’t get one. And, one person in the back going “one more song!” or “don’t be lazy!” ISN’T gonna cut it.

Saturday, February 20th: Kansas City, MO.

I’ll try and keep the fluff down here. To that point, if I don’t mention anything specific about our set, it just means that we were well received, but not in some totally unique way. So here’;s what was notable about Kansas City. (1) It was snowing like crazy! Alas, that meant there was a low-ish turnout for our early show. Our good pal Betse Ellis, of the Wilders, has sent a message out to their hometown folks, so we had a few that braved the snow, but a lot of folks were there for our cobill (2) The Kansas City Bear Fighters. A great band. In some ways, much like The Two Man Gentlemen Band – up tempo novelty songs, sweet harmonies, etc – but in song content, almost entirely different. A lot of post-apocolyptic themes, and a lot of randomness, just like we like it. We have another favorite band!

(3) Gates BBQ. After our show, we treated ourselves to a BBQ feast. Of course, everyone had their suggestions – Missourans take their BBQ VERY seriously – and Bates was the closest. We walk in and are greeted immediately by an almost threatening “Welcome to Gates, what do you want?” It’s one of THOSE kind of places. We ended up with a massive platter of ribs, pork, beef, and also lamb, plus beans and slaw. Oh man, we feasted like kings. It was a funny late night scene, BBQ at 11pm, but, as you know, we live for these moments. You can witness our before and after carnage here.

(4) The lengths to which bands will go: Our show was the early show at Davey’s Uptown Ramblers Lounge. The late show was a mess ‘o’ rock bands, one of them was a group from Houston. Now, Houston is about 13 hours from KC, and this band had driven all that way for ONE gig. ONE GIG!! A poorly attended gig in a small dive bar on a snowy night. Folks, musicians in the USA should garner the same respect as firefighters and policemen, well . . . at LEAST mailmen. Risking life and limb on dangerous highways, snowy mountain passes and vicious windy Oklahoma straightaways. For what . . . $40, split 5 ways, one free pitcher of PBR or Highlife . . . occasional applause. All I’m saying is the next time you see a small band in a nearly empty venue, give them a pat on the back and maybe cradle them in your arms for a while. I guarantee they are tired and broke and feeling unappreciated.

Sunday, February 21st: Tulsa, Oklahoma

A wonderful house concert in Tulsa, a great time. Nothing especially remarkable about this day, though nothing terrible. We really enjoy these kind of shows – no mics, no stage, but a very attentive crowd that listens to your bad jokes and also the lyrics to your songs. After the show, Ben and Jake went to a club and saw a cool group from Dallas called Mount Righteous. Another of these highly charismatic, large brass ensembles, all tattooed and indie and sexy (I didn’t see them, remember, this is just my imagination). Seems like these kind of groups are getting more and more prevalent. I guess that’s OK. Tulsa is the home of Cain’s Ballroom – the spot where Bob Wills became popular and really formed his texas-swing style. So that’s something, right? So, OK, not much to report, but the real glory of Tulsa happened the next day . . .

Monday, February 22nd: Oral Robert University and Eureka Springs AR.

In the course of the evening before, we had engaged our hosts – Nathan and Kristen – in conversation about things to do around Tulsa. It came out that Oral Roberts University is in town, and is a sight to behold. Now, keep in mind that we are from Virginia, home of Liberty University. However, in comparison, Liberty is a fully reputable place. Have you BEEN to ORU? Have you seen the city of gold? Well, if not, have we got some pictures for you! The whole place looks like it was built in some sort of 1970’s not too distant future. Gold plating on every surface. A fantastically absurd prayer temple that looks, in the word of heretic and part time ranter Edward Brogan like, “an interstellar escape pod.” Massive praying hands! OK, yes, it’s an easy target for agnostic and cynical East Coasters such as ourselves. And we love easy targets! Low hanging fruit also. Just look at the pictures. Please take notice of the many many MANY “No Weapons Allowed” signs on every door. I’ll also point out that there was an article in the student newspaper about how the fire alarms had to be removed from the men’s dorms, due to an overabundance of pranks. Those crazy kids! If they can’t have premarital sex, false fire calls are second in line!

After leaving Tulsa, we drove the scenic route through Oklahoma and the Cherokee Nation towards Arkansas. Needless to say, the Cherokee Nation, at least that we could see from the road, could have been less depressing. Signs of poverty abound, and the one shiny thing was the casino, right on the AR/OK border. Yech.

We arrive in Eureka Springs, just on the SW end of the Ozarks. It is a lovely little town, much like Thomas, WV or Dahlonega GA. A resort town that specializes in spas, hills, and curatives waters. One of the springs apparently had the power to heal the blind! Anyway, in keeping with our “born loser” mantra, we decided to visit this town in the off-season. The good part of this is that the locals were out, and it’s always good to get in with the locals! We posted up in a corner of the bar – Chelsea’s Corner Cafe – and rocked out with some stringband-y madness. The beers were flowing, the dancers were dancing, and we had a great Monday night on the road.

OPEN NOTE TO VENUES: Dear venues, do you want happy musicians who speak well of your club and want to return? Here’s a few tips. Feed them, drink them, and lodge them. Wow, a novel concept to be sure. Of course, payment is also great. But, just as good is making them feel like it’s worth driving 4-8 hours to play at yer establishment. So frequently, you treat them like a nuisance or freeloaders when they are brazen enough to think that you might prepare a pizza or salad for them, or that they might get a free drink or two, you know, for whipping it out and bringing customers to your bar. A small thing, I admit, but just think about it.

Anyway, back to Eureka Springs. We had a great walk around town, and Jake had a flashback to his tween years in Arkansas. We picked him up, dusted him off, and pulled the mouth screw out of his teeth, and kept going. We will DEFINITELY return to this town.

And now I’m just about as caffeinated as possible (eyeballs are vibrating, depth perception is failing), and we are exploring options for hikes before heading off to Memphis for the day. More BBQ is in our future! Talk atcha soon!

Buy your tickets now for the Second Annual Richmond Roots Extravaganza!
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$20 for the whole night of music, plus heavy hors d’oeuvres and a champagne toast at midnight. At Richmond’s best source for food, music, and fun – The Camel - 1621 W Broad St.

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Enough of You – live on \"Virginia This Morning.\" Zombies . . .

Greetings!

It’s me, PF (”Pretty Frightening”) Hotseat, just bringing you a heads up on our comings and goings.

There’s a lot of new gigs coming up, all of which you can see right at the bottom of this very email (new technology!). Also, you can go to our Show Page on our website. We’ll soon be en route to the Midatlantic and New England. Also, we have a new server, and all complaints of slowness should now be quashed.

Hey, Facebook Users, did you know you can be a fan of the Hot Seats? Well, you can! The Hot Seats Facebook can be found at http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Hot-Seats/20885708328. Join us on this new (ok, not so new) social networking journey!

Now, you know that Halloween is this Saturday, and although there will not be a full fledged musical play, as there has been in the past, there ARE some performances of the Annotated Zombie Stringband (see above) that you might consider attending, especially if you are a Richmond native!

Back in the van, headed north to Inverness! Watch out all monsters, mythical and otherwise!

PF Hotseat here, in fine spirits at the moment, just leaving the Border town of Hawick (“HOICK”), after a large British Breakfast and an early wake up. We’re leaving early for a couple of reasons: a) it’s a long drive, and b) we want to do our touristy “snap snap, grin grin” thing up there at Loch Ness! Maybe the most “touristy” place we’ve ever been to. There’s all kinds of schlock to buy and staged photos to take, our fanny packs are full of carrying cash and our jogging suits are matching. You know, they just don’t make ketchup here like they do in the States! My legs are tired! When’s dinner?

Anyway, let’s see . . .

Two nights ago (Thursday, Oct 1), we drove from the Kingdom of Fife to Newcastle, England. This is a wonderful drive, through the Scottish and English Borders – impressive hills and plenty of stark emptiness, really makes you appreciate the difficulty that various invaders must have had in trying to conquer the Scottish people. This is to say nothing about the difficulty that modern invaders (read: US) have in trying to understand what a Border dweller is SAYING. Every town is an isolated pocket and has a dialect to match – crazy words and accents.

Newcastle is an old town, with many a cool building to gawk at. We played at this cool club called The Cluny, as part of the Jumpin’ Hot Club music series. Our host, Graham, is a super nice fellow, a musician also, and was very pleased to see us. Alas, the show was poorly attended, at least comparatively to our other shows on this tour. Nonetheless, we rocked out as best as we could, giving our all, as we do to many rooms more empty and dingy than this one. The folks were well impressed and told us so. There was one man in particular who was well-marinated, and who was not shy about loudly proclaiming his love for the banjo multiple times over. Not only was his language slurred by drink, but apparently (I found out later) he had a strong “Jordy” accent, which is a region in the English Borders.

The next day we made for Hawick, back north into the Borders. On the way down this curvy valley, we passed by Hadrian’s Wall, which is as an impressive edifice as any I’ve seen before, as much for the clear amount of effort required on the part of the Romans to build it. It also makes me appreciate the amount of history in this place. After the Romans tipped out of here, the Vikings were in charge, which explains very much the crazy dialects and fierce independence of the Border folk.

The gig last night was in the Heart of Hawick Auditorium, located inside of an old mill and situated directly overtop of a river (NAME?), as most mills were. Hawick was the cashmere capital of the world at one point, and still has lots of the industry there. However, as with mill-towns throughout the first world, much of the industry has picked up and moved to places with less stringent or nonexistent environmental and worker’s rights laws. Alas. Nonethelss, we were promised cheap cashmere upon our next visit. V Neck Sweaters, anyone?

The show was totally sold out (ah, how nice it is to write those words!), and the crowd was the perfect mix of enthusiastic and polite. Pretty much every song went down a storm and at the end of the night we had a double encore, and probably would have done three had the house lights not come on. If only we could lock into this kind of thing in the States . . . sigh. There were two relatively drunk folk in the front of the house, full of hilarious chatter. During the quiet section of “Czardas,” the fellow commented loudly, “Can I Clap yet?” I thought it was funny, anyway.

After the show, we retired to a pub just behind the gig for a couple of quiet pints, or so we thought (cue foreshadowing music, string swell)! First of all, the aforementioned drunk fellow was there, and proceeded to talk to me and Ben about Cinderella (the band), and how effing great they are. Hmm . . . Also, Loudon, our agent, was in attendance, and had grown up around Hawick, so had lots of old friends and some relations along, and there was much mirth, merrymaking, and storytelling afoot. In the pub there were actually a couple of press shots from Loudon’s old bands in the 1960’s, an R&B band and a psychedelic group. Great to see shots of him in the midst of his mod moment. Of special entertainment value was Loudon’s good friend, Bob Fish(of Johnny and the Rocco’s) – a guitarist and rockabilly fellow. This man had backed nearly every Sun Records artist that toured the UK in the last 40 years. Wanda Jackon, Billy Lee Reilly, Chuck Berry, etc. Bob had some great advice about dealing with the women from many European countries (Sweden, most especially). He and Loudon swapped stories about their old band days, casually dropping names like Ginger Baker, Eric Burdon, John Bonham, and others. It was super informative and quite the thrill for relatively young bucks like ourselves. Another example of a man who has been able to make something of a living in the world of music while still maintaining a semi-sane home life.

And now we are curving ’round small Scottish road, two gigs left! I’ll probably wait to post this until the last two gigs are posted, so sit tight . . .

OK, I’m back! Sitting in the Artist’s Lounge in Caird Hall, Dundee, waiting for our final gig. Given that there’s WIFI here, I’ll go ahead and post some final pictures and a final blog for the tour.

Last night in Inverness was great! We got to town early and decided to cruise up to the Loch for our touristy business. It was a classic Highlands Day – great, foreboding, and very windy. We got exactly what we were told – horizontal, cold rain. I didn’t see the monster, although I thought I caught a glimpse of Bigfoot while standing on the banks of Loch Ness, but it was just Ed, creeping up beside me.

How good is the feeling of having 200+ people cheer for you before you play a single note? Very good. I realize that 200 is a relatively unimpressive number in the face of a large band, but for us? Pretty nice. Another great crowd, full of spark and energy, one of our largest in the UK! Things are growing well over here, so come on USA, let’s get on the bandwagon too!

So now we wait for our final gig, and it looks like it’ll be a good one. Caird Hall is this massive structure in downtown Dundee – a city right on the North Sea. We’ve got the pleasure of an opening act tonight – The Lost Todorov’s. They look like a great deal of fun and excitement. Hopefully it’ll set the mood for the night.

And now, some final thoughts:

And now we return home, back to wide roads and wide loads, SUV’s and Micky D’s, and the great wide yonder! New gigs are on the horizon for November/December and beyond.

More pics available here – PICS

Hope to see you soon!

PF Hotseat, et al.!

So. Well. Rested! October 1, 2009

That’s right folks, PF here, writing from the comfort and cleanliness of a Holiday Inn Express – it’s no Travelodge, but hey, what is, eh? Speaking of Travelodge, I know that I’ve been talking about our time in the Braehead Travelodge and the surrounding mall-country, and just yesterday we left them for the last time on this tour. Sniff sniff . . . I’ll miss the faceless anonymity and the easy access to box stores and shipyards. Also, there’s the Xscape. Have we talked about the Xscape? It’s this massive mall addendum that’s dedicated to adventure sports. There’s a climbing wall, a bowling alley (adventure!), and a ski slope! Crazy. All indoors, all in the midst of a suburban parking lot. Maybe I’m just exposing my naivete, I don’t know . . . I thought outdoor sports we supposed to be undertaken outdoors. But hey, it’s clean and cheap, and conveniently located, and so it goes . . .

Anyway, last blog ended with us leaving Belfast for the ferry back to Scotland. It’s funny how a place can start feeling like home after a relatively short amount of time. To me, Scotland is our home base while we’re over here. Maybe it’s the extended amount of time with Gerry, our Paisley-based ambassador. I think it’s as much that I’ve gotten entirely used to the accents and speech patterns of the Glasgow area. Yikes, time to get back to Richmond, I reckon.

So we landed in Stranraer and had a beautiful drive up the western coast, through Ayrshire, to Irvine – a sweet oceanside town with a nice harbor and beach paths and the like. We had played Irvine about a year before with the Wilders – I recall we played “Summer of ‘69” during the final superjam – epic! Anyway, we played at the the Harbour Arts Centre, in a sweet small theatre set up amphitheater-style. The room was nearly full, and it was just a very intimate time, and who wouldn’t want to be intimate with the Hot Seats?

The next day was spent bumming around Irvine – long walks on the beach, tea, coffee, lunch, etc. It’s an exciting life, no? Our days off – they could all blur into a single series of events: walking around, over-caffeination, looking for cheap/free activities, more walking around, cigarettes, mindless noodling on instruments. Obviously, its a pretty glamourous life. We ended the day back at the Braehead Travelodge, glad to get back “home.”

Next day was the Kilbarchan Library. Kilbarchan is the hometown of our agent/promoter/Scotland guru, Loudon. Whenever Loudon comes to a show, it’s time to step it up, as he has a sharp ear and is unafraid to tell you exactly what he thinks. We therefore through in all of our newest and best material, along with “Cakewalk,” a chestnut from way back in the band’s history which has been recently rediscovered. It was a fun show, full of many familiar faces from our previous shows in this area.

A side-note, Loudon made us dinner that night – something called “Stovies,” a dish that is apparently different in every Scottish household. As near as I can understand, it’s basically the end of the week meal, to be made with whatever’s leftover from the week, cooked slowly and very sumptuous. Loudon’s was pork bellies and potatoes, and it was great, rib-sticking and filling.

And that brings us to yesterday – Carnegie Hall! Finally, all of our years of heard worked paid off! The old joke of “How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!” Know that one? Well, there’s a second answer, which is, “Come to Dunfermline, Fife, Scotland!” This Carnegie Hall is also funded by Andrew Carnegie, the steel magnate. Apparently he was born in Dunfermline, who knew? The town is just a bit north of Edinburgh, and up on a hill, so when you look south you can see the Forth Rail Bridge, of which many pictures have been taken – it’s a very cool bridge. Carnegie Hall is a lovely theater, older and maybe a little more ornate that most in which we have been playing. It’s also a big space – maybe 500 available seats including the balconies. We had around 100 folks in there, but they were such an enthusiastic crowd that it didn’t matter – plenty of clapping and hooting and shouting to cover the empty seats. We’ve been trying this thing wherein we just come out and start playing, no talking. However, there’s always about 30-45 seconds of preparation that happens before we actually start. Last night, someone in the crowd shouted, “Don’t worry boys, we’re ready whenever you are!” That was amusing to me . . . So the gig went great – there’s nothing like having first a gorgeous young woman and then a charming older lady both come up to you and tell you how much fun it was and how happy the music made them feel. That’s right! Pleasing the ladies of all ages! That’s us!

And now we enter the home stretch. Newcastle tonight, then Hawick, the Inverness (!), and then Dundee, and then airport! There’ll probably be one more blog in me, I’ll write it in the airport while we wait to board. In the meantime, keep checking the picture page – I’ve posted a few travel shots, and then a bunch more of our most recent performance at the Polish Club (HEY!), taken by Davey Stewart – the highlight being Jake with his pants down, ladies.

That’s all for now,
PF HotSeats, over n out.

Ahoy mateys! ` September 24, 2009

PF here, riding aboard the Stena line ferry from Stranraer, Scotland, to Belfast, Ireland. That’s right! The Hot Seats are invading yet another two countries. Today and tomorrow we are in the Republic of Ireland, and then Saturday we are in Northern Ireland. Very exciting to say the least! Right now I’m watching two ladies kiss at the table next to mine! Oh these crazy European

We’ve had a couple of great days off, hanging out in Edinburgh. It’s interesting to be there when the Fringe is NOT happening. Still fairly bustling, but not nearly as absurd or crowded, and also not full of venues. Edinburgh is beautiful, as you may know – a city surrounding a castle, lovely hills to climb for views, cobbled streets. It’s not a great driving city, but perhaps that’s due to it’s age, eh? Maybe the serfs and vassals didn’t need to worry so much about parking spaces and one-way streets.

Ben and I have been staying with our new pals, Paul and Fiona Johnston, of the great Scottish group Rock Salt and Nails – who we met at a bluegrass jam session in a pub during the Fringe, and became fast friends. It is, for us, edifying to meet people who have been able to so successfully combine real life (house, kids, relative normalcy) and musical careers. Our two nights were spent talking, drinking a variety of Scotches, and playing bluegrass music – Paul is quite the guitarist and singer, and enthusiast. They’re gunning to get us back over here for the Shetland Music Festival. Sounds good to us.

So let’s see, when last we spoke, we were in Aberdeenshire. Our Tin Hut gig was, as expected, a great time. A full house, very appreciative and high energy. I can’t say enough about how much we love these town hall style gigs. It seems so very appropriate to travel to a tiny town and perform for farmers and folks who live way out in the outlying areas. Kind of like an old-style griot or snake-oil salesman, except that we don’t take coinage from the rube, or refer to anyone as “rubes.”

Anyway . . . Fraser and Fiona, our hosts in Aberdeenshire, are incredible folks, with a lovely herb farm and rustic, self-sufficient, lifestyle. After the show we all went back to their house and had a big old meal of local haggis, purple runner beans, and potatoes. But not regular potatoes. No no! Fraser is a potato nut, and grows all kinds of heirloom potatoes, with great names like the Arran Comet, the Ulstre Sceptre, the Kestrel, and the Pink Fir Apple (this is the one we were eating). Fraser will also talk to you about potatoes and their many strong points and the minutiae of their many differences. And, to be fair, these are not your standard bland baking spuds from a supermarket. These are REAL potatoes – knobby, cantankerous, and delicious!

The other thing about which Fraser is passionate is whiskeys. He has TONS of unmarked bottles of connoisseurs stock whiskeys from distilleries throughout Scotland. For more info on this, you’ll have to ask Ben, Aaron, or Jake, as I was not present for the all-night Scotch drinking session that took place. Needless to say, when Gerry, Ed and I arrived to pick them up in the morning, they were awake, but bleary.

What followed were our two days off in Edinburgh. And then, we were picked up yesterday (my 3 year anniversary, thank you very much!) and whisked off to Peebles for our gig at the Eastgate Theatre. We played this venue last January with a great response, and had a similar experience last night. This, specifically, is the experience of a very quiet room full of audience members who are not obviously having a great time, but who, in fact ARE. It’s a funny thing for us, as we are so used to playing to hooting, stomping, or just straight-up conversing audiences. It can make us a little awkward – an attentive audience. However, during the break, Malcolm (another new friend, former drummer with the Incredible String Band(!!!)) laid it out to me that audiences here are, for the most part, unused to seeing bluegrass or string band music, and frequently don’t know how to process it. Add on top of that our general bizarre behavior, jerky syncopations and funny looks, and it is understandable, sez he, that the crowd would be a bit dumbstruck or “gobsmacked,” as he put it.

Anyway, we got up quite early this morning, and are now en route to Ireland. This ferry is really fancy, with a shopping mart, coffee shops, video games, and even a nail salon! Crazy! It’s not the best mani-pedi I’ve ever gotten, but it’ll do for now (we HAVE to look after your cuticles you know, otherwise what separates us from chimpanzees, digging through the dirt for edible termites and flinging our waste at one another?).

We’ve got three busy days ahead of us, with early leaving times and gigs galore. I hope to have some good stories to share with you. Until then, enjoy the pics and let me know if there’s any particular details that I should be accentuating.

Guinness-bound,
PF Hot Seats

Three days later . . .

Wow, it’s been a mighty packed three days folks, and there has been neither a free internet signal, nor a minute of free time, to post this blog, so allow me to update and then we will post.

So, we landed in Belfast, an easy ferry ride, and departed. Now, our first gig (Thursday, September 24) was in Manorhamilton, County Leitrim. Pretty much on the same latitude as Belfast but directly across the country, on the west coast. This also makes it in the Republic of Ireland, rather than Northern Ireland. So, a few things happen. Miles turn to kilometres, pounds turn to euros, and the roads turn to bumpy, potholed, and curvy. In general, the European roads are much more narrow and serpentine that the US equivalents, so when an Irishman/Scotsman/Brit tells you that “oh THAT’s a bad road,” you know it’s meaningful.

Manorhamilton is a nice small town, surrounded by fields on all sides. I got a chance to take a walk around and found two paupers graveyards, where hundreds were buried during the Famine. Pretty stark reality to come up against, to say the least. Anyway, the gig was in a great arts centre called the Glens Centre, and our hosts were Anna and Ray, our sound man. Both folks could NOT have been more professional or accommodating. Ray is a rare bird, inasmuch as he’s a soundman who cares DEEPLY about the happiness of the artist (that’s right, I said ARTIST!). What a joy to work with someone like that.

The gig was great – a ¾ full house and a very energetic crowd. Plenty of stomping and clapping. It’s gratifying when a line in a song that you think is really great elicits the response that you want from a crowd, I’ll say that much, same thing when someone takes a great solo and it is so obviously appreciated.

We had another 6am leave the next morning, and had all plans of having an early night in preparation, but oh it was not to be. Given that we were newbies to the area, Anna insisted on taking us to at least one or two of the local musician spots. The first was a pub called Connolly’s, and the proprietor is this fellow Joe, who apparently never leaves the pub. It’s pretty much a tiny box, and it’s apparently the oldest pub around. The real joy is that Joe has an amazing voice and knows tons of songs, and he’ll gladly swap you song for song. So we did! Eddie and I sang a duet and Ben, after some mild prodding,led us all in a raucous rendition of “Okie from Muskogee.” In trade, Joe sang us the great Marty Robbins tune “Big Iron” and an Irish drinking song that I think is called “Jonny Jump Up.” What was great is his voice! Oh man that voice. Sounds like the man has a diaphragm that’s the size of a trampoline! Anyway, that was great. I videoed him singing, and HERE’S the first one.

After that, Anna took us over to another pub where we were honored to get to hear the fiddling of Ben Lennon, apparently a product of the County Leitrim fiddling ways. Now this man is not young – white furry eyebrows, and it was not early. Reminded me greatly of many of the older, more revered old-time musicians. He played very quietly, and all of the other musicians leaned in to listen closely to what he played, so as to not miss a note. Aaron and I were convinced to play a couple of tunes for them, but we were, at that point in the night (call is 3am), in less than pristine form, so it was only a couple of tunes. And then to bed, for a very short amount of time.

Friday we woke and got right in the van for another curvy and bumpy ride to Wexford, in the Southeast of the ROI. Another lovely town. We had an early gig in the town square, and we mostly played bluegrass and old timey standards. The crowd that gathered was enthralled by our flashy American ways and bright white smiles. There was even a set of dancers who arrived by the end, to the entertainment of all. We were served a great lunch afterwards – I took a picture of Jake’s meal – Pork Belly and Mash.

We then made our way to our evening gig at Colfer’s Pub, out in the country. It is now that I’ll comment on the unfortunate suburbanization of many of these Irish towns – ugly cookie cutter houses are everywhere, and furthermore, more than half of them are empty! It’s like the States, pretty much, and it sucks. Apparently the Republic of Ireland suffered a much larger balloon and a much bigger crash than we did, and it’s evident all over the place. Thanks Alan Greenspan! The pub gig was fun, although not remarkable. Alas, we were all fairly tired and it was a small room of folks, so we didn’t give them our best, I’m afraid to say. The highlight was when the owner of the pub joined for a tune on his harmonica. He played “Miss MacCloud’s Reel,” and we played “Did you Ever See the Devil, Uncle Joe?” which are luckily the same thing. He was amazing on that thing!

After the gig, it was quick to bed with us, so that we could get up the next day and head for Belfast!

Saturday morning it was a luxurious 8:30 leave, which felt like serious sleeping in, in comparison to the last two days. It was a pretty easy drive up to Belfast, as the roads were fairly large and straight. We rolled into the Open House Festival at about 1pm, a full hour before our 2:15 set. This is a really great Fest, right in the center of Belfast, with lots of fun Americana acts. Red Stick Ramblers, T Model Ford, Bob Log III, and our Hackensaw pal – Ferd Moyse, just hanging out, playing with nearly everyone around. There was also a Chili eating contest and a helium balloon karaoke area. Fun!

Our gig went exceptionally well, the tent was maybe half-full at the beginning, with lots of talkers and ignorers, but we pretty well got most eyes and ears focused on our doing, and filled the tent in the process. We sometimes really excel in these long single sets, as they allow us plenty of time to stretch out and cover lots of musical ground. The unfortunate end is that our songs, as maybe you know, range from about 1 to 3½ minutes in length. So a 90 minute set is somewhere around 25 songs. Phew!

After the set, there was merch selling and backstage schmoozing. The band after us – I Draw Slow – is a group of oldtimey musicians from Dublin. I can’t get enough of folks over here playing oldtime music. It makes me very happy to think of Fred Cockerham eluding the respect he is owed in such faraway climes. I wonder if the same is felt about American Irish musicians?

We checked into our hotel with the promise of late night jams aplenty, come the midnight hour. It being only 7:30ish after dinner, and us being quite tired, we felt it prudent to walk around and keep ourselves awake. We went back to the festival to watch some music. One tent had a Ryan Adams tribute show going on. Echem! Sorry, I had to repress something there. All I’ll say is that Ben and I were very tempted to rush to the stage and loudly request “Summer of ‘69,” “Cuts Like a Knife”, and “The Robin Hood Song,” but we didn’t.

The OTHER stage had a three band bill. It started with Ivan Ivanovich and the Kreml Krauts. OK, they were high energy and hilarious, maybe 9 of them on stage – two guitars, bass, drums, accordion, french horn, etc etc – but folks, hasn’t the Slavic-punk-ska thing run its course? Clearly not, though maybe that’s not a good thing. OK, yes, Gogol Bordello is a good band, I think so too! So why try and sound just like them and open yourself to my unflattering comparison?

The next band was called Prison Love (they had us from hello, you know? We’re a sucker for a bad band name!), and they were a group of Dubliners who could really swing the oldtimey/Cajun beats. They played a lot of great songs to my enjoyment. It must have been good, b/c I even got out with our pal Helen Keen (from London) and did some lame two-stepping and flatfooting with her. Again, I’ll reiterate my love of Irish folks playing American trad music. Sometimes they’re more pure than the OG’s (as is evident by our complete lack of purity).

The final group – Union Avenue – is a Glasgow group that specializes in Jonny-Cash style renditions of many songs that were never played by Jonny Cash. I have to give it to these guys, they were great. They had the crowd whipped into a minor frenzy, and thy pulled off the 50’s Rockabilly with gritty precision. Highlights for me were “White Wedding,” and “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” The singer did a fairly spot-on impression, and had the American accent down, such that I didn’t know he was Glaswegian until I was told.

After this we headed back to the hotel for jamming fun. Ben and I grabbed a mess of instruments, roused Aaron and were congregating in the lobby. At that moment, Ferd and Morgan (of Casa Chihuahua) rolled in and the jam began. Now, Aaron and Ferd have this little love thing happening, so they essentially french kissed while they cooked through lots of tunes, I was playing guitar, and Ben, Helen and Morgan were playing the banjos. Morgan also has this suitcase with a drum pedal that he beats upon. It was a raucous sound to say the least, and would have gotten us many a baleful stare at Clifftop or Galax, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t full of fun and great energy. We had a good crowd of drinkers hooting and swaying with us, and that’s what matters most in the late hours, anyway. Old time music, is it the best music ever? It’s probably hard to say for sure, but it definitely has it’s time and place, and this was exactly it – late night, boozy, loose and exciting!

As the jam collected drummers, I lost a bit of interest, and also tiredness overtook me. I personally rolled out around 3am, and it showed no sign of stopping.

And here I sit, drinking strong coffee and eating a light breakfast. We roll to the ferry in about an hour’s time, so it’s probably time for a shower and a shave and other morning things. Back to Scotland for a last week of great shows. Stay tuned for more!

PF, Tired and Out!

Oh, one last thing! You may know that we are fans of fancy bathroom air-dryers. No? Well, we are. It started with the Excelerator, which is raw power. Then we found the Airblade, which is more precise and a little more ingenious (though it won’t blow you across the room like some kind of juggernaut). And now there is the Celtic! A stream that’s almost as powerful as the Excelerator, but an added bonus of a cool bluelight that, I guess, shows you where the air is hitting your hand. Kind of looks like your hand is being beamed up. Fancy!