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plus:
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and
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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.

Click on the poster above to buy tickets online!

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!

And back again for more bloggery!

PF Here, back in the van, headed away from our Braehead Travelodge, en route this time to lovely Gartly, Aberdeenshire: the Tin Hut! Just over a year ago we played a great show to a super enthusiastic crowd here, and we’re very much looking forward to repeating the act. In fact, by the time I get around to posting this blog, we’ll probably have already played the gig, so we’ll ALL know about it by the end of the rant. Technology and time . . . two amazing things, no?

We’ve now passed the month-long mark of this tor, and are winding into our last two weeks, with some milestones yet to come – Ireland, Inverness, Tuesday, etc etc. Thus far it has been a banner tour, with some great shows and some lovely days. Speaking of, we’re on nearly two weeks of sunshine (read as: not raining), and I’m wondering when they’ll impose mandatory water restrictions. Any day now, I’m sure. And yes, it’s an easy joke to make (that’s why I;m making it), but in truth, all the rain keeps this land verdant and bountiful, so I’ll not knock it with any seriousness.

Speaking of bounty, I read recently that Great Britain gets something like 60% of it’s food from within Great Britain. Amazing. That’s like a locavore’s dream. Basically the equivalent of a Richmonder getting all his/her food from VA/MD/NC. Not likely; can’t get my mangoes and organic avacodos from those places, so forget it! What? No artisanal balsamic vinegar? What is this, the Bronze Age?

Been hearing all about the health care debate in the states right now. It’s absurd, of course. We here at the Hot Seats only want our meager tax dollars going towards destructive acts. Constructive acts should be left for the women, the terrorists and the communists. Let those brutes in Sweden, France, Italy, the UK, New Zealand, Germany, Austria, Holland, Belgium, Norway, Finland, and Canada (most brutish of all) support their own populaces. That’s not American (“Ah Murr Kan”)! That’s straight up foolishness. I say, if it can’t result in a contract with Bechtel, Halliburton, Northrop-Grumman, or Altria, it’s not even worth discussing.

Furthermore, if you really WANT healthcare, you should have no problem paying $1100/month plus a $2500 deductible. If you can’t manage that, I guess you really don’t want a cure. Stand tall all ye conservatives and fake-o democrats! We can’t let big government try and keep us healthy! What’s next? I’ll tell you what’s next, those A-Holes will try and provide us with proper educational standards; or even worse, try and preserve areas of natural beauty and importance for future generations. Hey, if THEY’RE so important, why aren’t they born yet?

Whew!

Let’s update, eh?

So, I realized in my last blog that I forgot to mention the great gig we played on the Tall Ship in Glasgow Harbor. What fun to play on a cool old ship! We played this gig previously last January, during Celtic Connections, and this night was as good as that. We even had some younger folks out, very excited to see the music and also to get us to sign posters, pictures, cd’s etc. There’s some god shots of the boat on the picture page, check ‘em out!

Let’s see . . . at the end of the last blog we were headed to Kirkcaldy (“KUR KODDY”) to play at the Polish Club (HEY!). This is such a fun gig. The crowd is kept wholly in line by Fiona, who is the hostess and seargant-in-arms for the night. She enforces the “no cell phone, no talking” rules with an iron fist, and also tells funny jokes. Well, we assume they’re funny – half of them involve some Gaelic phrase or another, so generally I just laugh when it’s clear the joke is over, regardless of whether I fully understand or no. She’s also fairly . . . blue. This makes us feel right at home, and opens us up to play some of the material we might hold back on in another venue. The other great thing about the Polish Club (HEY!) is that they have a fully stocked bar of polish beers and liquors, and it is their mission that we try many of them and understand what’s so good about Polish drinks. So we do, and we do. This results, of course, in a great amount of looseness. Looseness on the level of the Cary St Cafe days of yore. We even pulled out some old songs like “Big Fat Woman With the Meat Shakin’ on Her Bones,” one we probably haven’t played in 3-4 years.

Part of the band was hosted by Davey and Mary Stewart, a lovely couple of folks with an amazing house in Kirkcaldy, full of artwork and music and just interesting things all over the place. Davy and Mary are the perfect example of why traveling and touring is worthwhile. You meet people who are master conversationalists and who take the idea of hospitality to its proper level.

The next day we bummed around until midday or so, and then headed out to the next gig – the Rtegal Theatre in Bathgate. It’s a cool old movie theatre that’s been converted into a performance space and community space. We were warned in advance that this crowd would be heavy into traditional bluegrass, and were a bit nervous once again. However, once again, we allowed our freak flag to fly and were rewarded with an appreciative and vocal audience. The band member awards for the night go to Eddie and Jakey, for really rocking out in major ways. Jake, especially, has been getting a lot of praise on this tour, and I, for one, am happy to hear it. To see him behind that trap set, scrubbing away on the washboard whilst keeping a steady kick and high-hat rhythm, plus flourishes from the cymbals and woodblocks – it’s an awe-inspiring bit of multi-limbed congruity, no? Jake, you’re true blue!

After Bathgate, it was back to the Braehead Travelodge for the night. The next day we bummed around the hotel (this is a familiar plot constituent, no?) until it was time to head to the tiny village of Gartmore for our next gig in the local Village Hall. Gartmore a a pretty little town, surrounded by sheep-dotted hills. Maybe 50 houses all told, plus a castle and stone church. Basically it’s the TV version of a Scottish village. Anyway, the hall itself is just the perfect place for a show like ours – good stomping floors and great acoustics. Now, we’ve had some good audiences recently – interactive, respectful but not clammed-up – and these folks might just take the cake. From the very first song they were hooting, clapping and generally going crazy. This kept up all night. Additionally, there was a healthy portion of young folks – like under-15 young. It’s fun for us to get a chance to expose people of this age to the music we like, and also some of the humor (stress the “some”). We actually got two encores, and not just obligatory encores either, but full-fledged gung-ho shouting and wild clapping. That’s a good feeling for sure. After the show, many handshakes and autographs, and again, lots of praise for Jake. I think, personally, it’s because, during our second encore, we came out into the crowd to play, and Jake sat in a woman’s lap. What a cad!

OK, so that was last night. We are currently on a super twisty road through imposing and beautiful hills (mountains?), just having entered Aberdeenshire. Anyway, it make be a bit much for me to stare at this screen without emptying out my bladder in the wrong direction, so we’ll leave it here for now. . .

And now I’m back, full of breakfast, waiting for my turn to shower. As expected, it was a fabulous night. The Tin Hut is in Garlty-by-Huntly, in the south of Aberdeenshire, read as: far from most places. A full accounting will come in the next blog, as I’m being hurried out the door by Gerry. Nonetheless, here’s some pictures from the last few days: PICS

Enjoy!

PF HOTSEATS et al.

Greetings from the Braehead T

Chaddy's Car - The Man Loves Texas!

PF Here, just sitting in the morning light (yes, it’s actually been sunny here for almost a FULL week! Cue the drought warnings and mandatory water restrictions), watching Jakey Sellers sleep soundly in the big double bed we’ve been sharing for the last few days. Yes, it is a glamorous life we lead, no doubt. We’ve been in this particular Travelodge for many days on this tour, and have more to come. You’ve already heard my rants on the suburbs, so I’ll not go into it again. Needless to say, the staff here views us with a mixture of alarm and curiosity. We spend lots of hours, wandering around the malls, baiting the local foxes (see here – yes, not actually a great thing to do, we know). But hey, it’s cheap, and we’re cheap, so YAHTZEE!

Let’s catch up. When last I wrote, we were in Aberystwyth, heading to Pontypridd. Pontypridd proved to be our least well-attended gig in Wales, but was nonetheless a great time, and we chatted with some great folks and played some fun tunes. Additionally, I’ll point out how many of our theatres (yes, “theatres”) are so legit in comparison to so many of our gigs. I mean, dressing rooms! Water bottles! Lighting! Ooh la la, we are spoiled!

The next day we had an early start as we had to drive essentially the length of England, from Wales to St Andrews, Scotland – just north of Edinburgh. The thought, by the way, that we would do a drive like this in a single day was anathema to so many folks we spoke to. An 8 hour drive to us, is not so long, mind you, but when it represents 75% of the entire South-North span of your country, I suppose it makes sense. Anyway, it was a long trip, full of so much BBC2 (more on this later), and it ended up taking around 10 hours. We rolled into St Andrews, a beautiful, kind of retirement town, I guess. The Byre Theatre is nearly all volunteer-run (something close to my heart . . . oh WRIR, how I miss thee!), and is just beautiful. The theatre was nearly full, and the crowd was very appreciative. There are a few folk who have come to see us a few times in our tour over here, and it’s just unbelievably flattering to think that what we do resonates enough for someone to go out of his/her way to make a show.

So, after the Byre Theatre, we headed back to the Braehead Travelodge, and have been here for the last three days. On Monday, we went up to the little piece of Texas in the heart of Paisley . . . the Alamo Bar! If you can recall from our previous experiences, the Alamo is a funny little bar that is frequented by Gerald, our road manager, band mother, and worst nightmare. The owner, Chaddy, is a former merchant marine with a real fetish for all things American, specifically Southern, and specifically Texan! Chaddy also bestowed Jake’s scottish washboard – The Albert – upon him. Clearly, this is a quality place.

So, given we had a night off, we were booked into the Alamo, to play for food, drinks, and good times. This is what we got, in spades. There’s some pics of the night – a little grainy – posted on our temporary picture page (i.e. our Facebook page), and you can tell that it was a loose and wild affair. We were steady fed Budvar Beer, from the original Budweiser Brewery (Czech). So much better than Anheiser Busch! In the states it’s called Czechvar, so you should . . . “Czech” it out! Hah! Yuks!
So, anyway, after the gig, there was a little bit of interaction with a wayward fox, outside the hotel. Pics are on the page. Don’t blame Ben and Ed, they were not necessarily fully logical at that time of night.

We had the next day off, which was spent bumming around Glasgow (the Kelvingrove! the Transit Museum!), watching TV, and generally slothing.

Yesterday (Wednesday), we had a couple of little gigs, first of all at a hospice in Johnston. Always rewarding to play these gigs. Enough said about that, in order not to sound like we are altruistic or caring, how would that match with our rockstar image? Anyway, last night, we also had a little pub gig at The Brown Bull, the lovely little pub that we invaded last January (there’s some YouTube footage of it, if you’re interested). Again, a great time, great food, and an enjoyable experience all together.

So, tonight we’re off to the Acoustic Music Club in Kirkaldy, in the Polish Club (HEY!). This, of course, will be a beauteous time. We’ll do our best not to get all liquored up on various Polish alcohols, but we probably won’t succeed.

Anyone who’s got some pics, please post ‘em!

Love,
PF HotSeats

Addendum: Thoughts on BBC2:

Have you heard this station? It is a combination of some of the most saccharine DJ’s, dedicating sappy songs to lonely pensioners, and constant repetition of 70’s and 80’s b-sides. Plus the worst garbage pop hits of today. Kind of like a US classic rock station, except they’re not the hits, for the most part. And then there are these quizzes, mostly revolving around ABBA and the Average White Band, and the “Dirty Half-Dozen,” wherein a listener pics 6 songs they have guilty pleasure about. It was during this little thing that we heard “I Need a Hero,” not ONCE, but TWICE! Anyway, it’s a nationwide station, and Gerry listens to it full blast when we’re on the road. We’re in the back, and , in theory, have our own radio. However, if there’s anything worse than listening to the BBC2, it’s trying to listen to something good, and then battling the BBC2 (and losing).

Basically, what I’m saying is THANK GOD for Clearchannel. Yes, all the stations are essentially the same, but at least you have to scan the dial, and that kills time. . .

Hello Hello Hello!

PF Here, sitting in the Aberystwyth (that’s “AH-BURR-WIST-WITH”) Arts Centre, on the lovely coast of Wales, watching our very own Heironymous Volcano (Ben Belcher, to the uninitiated) do one of his ever-expanding drawing of hotdog-related themes. He’s quite good, you know, you can see his efforts right here – http://www.myspace.com/bensdrawings.

Oops, time has passed, just like that! It’s now the morning after the gig, and I’m sitting in a bay window, overlooking the Irish Sea. The coast of Wales is an expanse of rocky cliffs, small pebbled beaches, and curvy roads. I’d say the brisk air doesn’t necessarily make me rush to my swim trunks, but that isn’t to say that the water isn’t inviting, know what I mean? It’s just likely there’s a silkie or a siren or some such thing, waiting to lure me to my watery grave in a state of pure, hypothermic bliss. Hold on just a minute, I’m hearing their call right now . . . . . (SPLASH! glug glug glug).

OK, I’m back, and perhaps it’s time to recap . . .

Friday morning after Banham, we headed to the opposite side of England – Devon. Rolling hills, huge hedgerows separating fields of happy and healthy looking cows. Very picturesque indeed. Riding in the back of the van along these curvy roads can be a little bit nausea inducing, especially with Gerald “Wheel-Jerk” Roche at the helm, but we manage to avoid any disasters.

We roll into South Molton, simultaneous to the rapid decline of steering and power in the van – later determined to be due to a busted power steering pump and drive belt. While Gerald dealt with the van, we checked into the George Hotel, where our performance was that night. We played for the Wildwood Flower Folk Club – and were warned in advance that this crowd would be more interested in our bluegrass and old-time chops, rather than the “avant-grass” (not my term, it comes from the Glasgow Herald) for which we are more known. Anyway, it was a sold out room, and we had the pure joy of getting to play a full acoustic set – no mics, no speakers – for a crown of 100+ folks, all listening raptly. The fears of stony faced traditionalists was quite overstated. While we did play a good amount of hot picking bluegrass, old time and the like; the crowd gladly followed us along every musical road we chose to trod. In the end, it was a great night, and we definitely opened some eyes as to the OTHER types of music besides bluegrass music that involve banjos, fiddles, mandolins, and all the rest.

Saturday, September 5

The next day was spent, in large part, waiting for the van (cue the Velvet Underground – “I’m . . . . waiting for my van . . .”). It was finally ready in the mid afternoon. Gerald and I went to get the van which turned out to be about 45 minutes away along some seriously country roads. It’s hard to overstate just how “countrified” it is in the English countryside. One moment you’re in a town, the next you are so far from civilization. It’s really quite refreshing. Our way back to pick up the guys entailed an extremely narrow road, framed by 10 foot hedgerows. Felt like some kind of lo-fi roller coaster ride. We got back to town, grabbed the guys and the gear, and headed for London.

I won’t go into great detail here, except to say that we were right on time (read as: late). We had just enough time to unload the gear, drink a quick beer, and hop onstage. A shame, as this is the “What’s Cooking” gig that we have played twice before, and Stephen and Ali – the two wonderful folk who run the show – are a great time, and it would have been nice to get to spend more time. Alas, alack. This show went off well, to a small but appreciative crowd. We had an opening act called The Henry Brothers – two Brits who specialize in murder and death ballads, singing in the style of so many brother duets. I love hearing the heavily UK-accented people start to sing like they are from Tennessee (well, do I do any differently? No). It’s very pleasing.

Sunday, September 6:

After a leisurely morning, we jumped back in the van, and headed to Brighton. Brighton, to those who don’t know, is a British seaside resort, and has been for a long long time. It’s great to walk along the lanes and pier and contemplate the leisure time that has been spent here over the last, oh, I don’t know, 200-300 years. Certainly, the Victorian Age was a boomtime for Brighton. There’s this amazing Pavilion that was built almost, from my understanding, purely for the enjoyment for Prince Albert (I don’t know if it was named for him either).

Anyway, Brighton is also the gay mecca of the UK and also a very bohemian place indeed, and it was evident both in our venue – a non-profit, community-run space – and our crowd – mostly tattooed, pierced, and super hip. We had an opening act – the Crucks (another group of Tennessean Brits) – who specialized in countrified versions of modern songs, like “The Final Countdown,” for example. Excellence! This show turned out to be a near mirror image of our Banham gig – dancers dancers dancers! After the show, we were invited to, of all places, a pub that specialized in Bourbon. Now, we’re not a group of guys to say no to a free Old Fashioned, Mint Julep, or just straight ahead bourbon in a glass, especially when it’s some fancy-brand liquor. We had a great time talking and BS’ing with our new British friends (and hosts), Iain, Michael, and Caley.

Monday, September 7:

A day off spent lazing around Brighton. Now, this is our PERSONAL time, you vultures. Can’t you give us a moment’s peace? This is as bad as Dodi and Diana! What? Too soon?

Tuesday, September 8:

Back in the van early as we crossed back across Southern England, barreling towards Wales. A new country conquered! Our first gig was in the town of Cardigan, at a spot called the Mwldan (pronounced, “MOOL-DAN”) Arts Centre. Now, let me just digress from my regularly scheduled ramble to just comment briefly on the Welsh language. First, it sounds very little like it looks, and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or anything like that, as we are having a wonderful and well-received time here. But let’s just talk about how it looks: like, as Gerry says, “like a shaken up Scrabble Board.” Extra F’s, D’s, Y’s, and W’s aplenty. Huge strings of consonants . . . it’s totally perplexing. You’ll note in the pictures section that I am obsessed, and I have been taking pictures of the most banal and mundane street signs and the like. What a rube.

OK, anyway. The Mwldan Theatre is a newish place, and the sound and interior are beautiful, clean, and modern. Having never before been to Wales, we could only assume it would be a small crowd of unsuspecting victims. Oh how wrong we were! The theatre, maybe 250 seats all told, was nearly full. And not just full, full of people just chomping at the bit for some hollerin’ and hootin’! Before even beginning our first song, the rapport for the night was set as a woman in the crowd shouted to me, “what is that thing you’re holding?” It was a mandolin, don’t be dirty. We had a great show, and the crowd was mightily impressed with us, thank you very much!

Wednesday, September 9 (9/9/9) –

We had a great drive up the Welsh coast, loving the views and dreading the curves. A short drive, though. We got into Aberystwyth early, arriving at the University of Aberystwyth Arts Centre. Given that we had so much time, four of us took a short walk towards the seaside. This “short walk” turned into a pretty serious hike up an “unstable cliff” (personally, I think it’s just passionate, but hey). You can see some of the pics here – http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Hot-Seats/20885708328. We saw the old castle (in ruins since 1343!), and generally enjoyed the sunshine as much as we could.

The hall we played in last night was a boomy one, and we were debating our setlist, based upon whether we’d be playing to sitters or dancers. I, personally, was sure that it would be a sitting crowd, whereas Admiral Admirable felt the opposite. Anyway, I was sooo wrong! OK, admittedly, the first set was a little low energy (on the crowd’s part that is, we sweated and vibrated as much as ever). However, during set break, it became apparent that the mostly middle-aged crowd was bolstered by a group of 18 year-oldish art students from Oxfordshire who were on a team-building trip. They had decided to get a bit silly during the set break, and they came back, ready to get down.

The frenzy built during the second set with lots of shimmying and shaking to our oldtime and ragtime raucousness, and culminated with our final song – Der Axelbulgar. It was a pure rock and roll moment, as ~25 of these kids jumped up on stage and shook booties behind us as we tried to maintain our well-practiced composure (cough cough). This was a beautiful moment, and I’m hoping that someone out there has some pictured of this. If so, please send to thehotseats@gmail.com!

After the show, these kids were a frenzy of “can I have an autograph/picture?” It was an extreme enough moment of rockstar feelings that I even got to sign a couple of . . . umm . . . chests. (Anyone with a picture, see above). Very flattering, to say the least.

OK, so, there we are. A day off today, and then one more Wales gig – Pontypridd (“PONTY – PREETH”), before we make the long trek north, back to Scotland.

Hope you’re all well!

PF HOTSEAT et al.

Why is this fascinating to me? What a rube!

Ok, back at it . . . ready, and . . . GO!

PF here, it’s Friday, 4/9/09 (that’s how they do it here, you know, but, it’s NOT April 9th!). We’re in the van, currently cruising from Banham to Devon. It’s been two weeks over here thus far, 4 more to go. Let’s see . . .

When last I wrote, we were leaving the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Last thoughts on the Fringe . . . it’s unlike anything else. Basically, imagine taking every arts event that takes place in every venue and gallery in the entirety of New York City – dance, comedy, theatre, music, cabaret, installation, readings, lectures, Q&A’s, acrobatics, etc – and jam it into a town one quarter of the size. Every building is a venue. There are, seriously, alleyways with tarps strewn over the top that become venues. It is totally cutthroat, also. Every year there’s more venues and not necessarily more people coming in to watch, so, well, YOU do the math.

This year’s experience was not quite as completely mind-blowing for us as last year, mainly due to the different venue. Alas, our pals at the Spiegeltent were not in attendance this year. So, no La Clique, no Captain Frodo, no Sideshow. Additionally, our venue (although a GREAT venue with a wonderful staff and a real focus on quality) was a bit off the beaten path, and also was more associated with traditional music than whatever it is that you want to call our thing. Anyway, I don’t want to harp on this, as it would be really hard to top a person’s first experience at the Fringe, so let’s just move on here.

But first . . .

Thoughts on Hostels (note, this is where I sound grumpy and irascible, but do keep in mind that I regularly sleep in some of the least accommodating accommodations available.):

We spent the week in Edinburgh staying in a tourist hostel (supposedly different from a student hostel, but how I’m unsure). Imagine how happy the inhabitant of the sixth person who happened to be staying in our room was when we rolled in with all of our bags and whatnot, all full of typical American braggadocio, sleeping late, rolling in at all hours of the night, snoring, laughing, etc etc etc. Now, snoring might connote to you that we slept well. Au contraire, mon freres et filles! These bunk beds . . . not comfortable! Every minute motion resulted in a symphony of creaks and squeaks and shakes.
Additionally, our hostel happened to be essentially directly in the city center, right across form the univeristy. Now, you may know that Scotland is currently undergoing the throes of a new set of alchohol laws – no happy hours, no being drunk in a bar, etc etc. Now, some of this you can certainly chalk upo to the typical moralistic B.S. That politicians resort to when there’s larger problems that are well out of their grasps. HOWEVER, part of the reason for new legistlation was easily viewed and heard every night until about 4-5am on the street just out our window. Just absolute idiocy. Fall-down drunks everywhere; stumbling, shouting, passing out in pissy alleyways, etc etc etc. Drunken barbarism. Now, you might call me an old fuddy duddy (and I am), but . . . come on. Keep it together, just a little bit!
And many of these people were staying in our hostel.
And so, that’s why I don’t like hostels.

Now, the day after the Fringe we headed to Perthshire, returning to the Birnam, where we had played a year previous with the Wilders. Birnam, as you may or may not know, is famous for at LEAST two reaosns. 1) When Birnam Woods move to Dunsenin . . . maybe you know the rest. 2) It is the childhood vacation home of Beatrix Potter, where she developed her love of nature and essentially wrote Peter Rabbit, Miss Tiggy Winkles (is that what she was called?), etc etc.
Anyway, Birnam woods did NOT descend upon us, and no one fell into a water jug, got chased by Farmer MacGregor, or had to drink Chamomile Tea. What did happen was a super kickass, nearly sold out show. Oftentimes we find over here that our crowds are a little on the reserved side. Not cold or indifferent, just very polite. This crowd was no different, however, by the second set, they got the message that we are a little . . . informal, to say the least. By the end of the night, they were responding to our jokes and hooting along with the best of them. This was a nice contrast to the Fringe, inasmuch as the town is very small and quiet, and the crowd was quite large and loud.

After Birnam, we had two days off, back in the Braehead Travelodge. We had stayed at this hotel before, when we were over in January ‘09 for Celtic Connections, so it almost felt like homecoming. Braehead is in the Glasgow suburbs, which are as sprawling and stupid as any suburb anywhere. This is especially galling here in the UK, as many cities seem to have done a good job of keeping the urban urban, and the surrounding rural rural. It’s actually pretty amazing how you can drive out of a city like London or Leicester or Edinburgh, and as soon as you cross the city line you are surrounded by fields, stone walls, and lush rural starkness. Unfortunately, the big box store phenomenon of the US seems to have pervaded certain areas of Great Britain, to the advantage of NO ONE. A perfect example of this was when we caught a taxi into Glasgow in order to grab dinner with Pokey on his last night here. We asked our driver if he knew of a good spot to get a hearty meal. His first response, “You mean like TGI Friday’s?” Our heads nearly exploded. How sad is that? We could go literally ANYWHERE and end up with that mediocre pap. Ah well, rant over.

On Wednesday, we met back up with Gerald and the van for a ride down to Leicester. A gorgeous ride South through England indeed. Leicester is a bit of an industrial town, but a pretty one no doubt. It’s great to visit these cities that have been inhabited for 500+ years. Not a new sentiment, I realize, but awe-inspiring nonetheless for a group of yokels from the states.

The Musician (kind of a taunting name for a club, no?), where we played, is a really cool club that specializes in live music of all kinds. A quick look at the schedule makes it seem like pretty well everyone of our stature and above plays this spot when they are over. Always feels good to see familiar faces on a schedule. Sometimes we like to leave hidden notes in the hope that a friend will find it.

Anyway, it was a smallish crowd, but a very attentive and responsive one, so a good show . . . Our support was a group from Winnipeg called The Dust Poets – http://dustpoets.com. They played rootsy, pretty music with some great songwriting. Nice to meet new folks and talk about life on the road. This could be either creepy or heartwarming, depending on your opinion of us, I suppose.

Thursday found us traveling to Norwich, returning once again to the Banham Barrel. If you have followed our other UK travels, you may remember the Banham Barrel as a wonderful country pub (the 2009 Best Cider Pub in East Anglia, thanks very much) with a lively crowd that LOVES to dance. This is, as I intimated previously, unusual for our shows over here. It is also a welcome thing. We got there early and worked out about 7-8 new songs (3 originals, and a mess of bluegrass songs). Norwich is a very agricultural area, specializing in apples, but also home to lots of plums, berries, and other plants. In general, most everywhere here is just super lush. Maybe because it seems to never stop raining.

Anyway, there was some early consternation from Jonty, the extremely hospitable owner of the Barrel, due to ity being a Thursday night – not a normal night for a show there. However, by 9:30pm, the place was JUMPING! We began, as we like to do, with s mixture of our musical ventures. However, as in the previous two trips to the Barrel, it was immediately apparent that the tune for the night was old-timey, bluegrassy dance music. And so, we happily obliged. I can’t stress enough, folks, how NICE it is to play for dances. It really reinforces the true point of playing music. It’s not so we can spread our absurd ideas or gesticulate wildly; it’s so we can make a beat with some melody overtop to get feet, asses, hips, and torsos moving.

I’ve recently finished a book entitled “How the Beatles Destroyed Rock and Roll,” by Elijah Wald. This book delves into the history of music in the US of America, following it from primarily dance-forms and live dance bands into the world of recorded music. The basic premise is that the arc of musical evolution in the States goes from music for dancing, enjoyed by crowds and women, to snooty art-music that is enjoyed by tweed-wearing critics with monocles and giant sticks in certain places. Anyway, this night made me think about that book and it really puts the different types of performances that we play in perspective. Not sure which type I like better – the sit-down-and-listen show versus the dance-around-and-feel-the-beat show. Don’t think I need to decide, actually.

Anyway, after the show, there was much more carousing, drinking, and music making. We awoke mid-morning, had some tea and cereal, bacon sandwiches and coffee with Jonty, and headed out. We just passed Stonehenge on the road. Crazy, it’s just sitting in the middle of a field. A small parking lot. Not historical center, no concession stand, nothing. If we were in the States, there’d be a 20 foot high fence surrounding the thing, and you’d have to pay $25 to see it, and another $5 to take a picture. You could buy a foam hat in the shape of a giant grey stone, and maybe buy some sort of disgusting drink in a stone-shaped novelty cup. Plus condoms in the bathroom.

So that’s where we are . . . in a van, like always. We’re playing a folk-y club tonight, so we’ll probably keep it pretty close to the vest. Fool ‘em into buying CD’s, you know? No, just kidding, we don’t deny or disallow anything in our performances. We are not ashamed! I swear it!

Hey, how do you like these blogs? Funny? Pointless? Rambling? What do you like, we want to please you! Hit us up – thehotseats@gmail.com.

Hope yer well, check the picture page for full photo-accountings.

PF Hotseats . . . over ‘n out.

At a porn shop in Leicester