Is this the best idea, or the worst?

August 28, 2010

Ah Virginny! We missed you so.

PF here, riding shotgun whilst Graham “Grand Design” DeZarn pilots us at semi-safe speeds north up 81, heading home from Bristol. As I’m sure many of you know, the fine trappings of the mountain west are many: massive mountain vistas, plains stretching wide in all directions, canyons, complete solitude on straight highways, jackrabbits, etc. Almost enough to make one consider a relocation, possible djembe addition to lineup. Now, entering Virginia by way of the Shenandoah Valley, it’s nice to be reminded that we have a different sort of beauty and magnificence. (And if the picturesque collapsing barns and cow fields don’t draw your eye, we’ve got some signage to let you know what’s up. The classic and pure “Virginia is for Lovers”, the somewhat disconcerting but clear “Productive, Seductive, Virginia” and finally the rather amusingly ambiguous “Virginia: Open for Business”).

Our approach and re-entry was especially pleasant, as we came across KY from Berea, over the Cumberland Gap and past the Carter Fold. Hard to know for sure what, if anything, A.P., Sarah or Mabel would have thought of the Hot Seats. They had their goofiness for sure.

OK, this has taken an almost nostalgic turn. Not at all what any of us want, so lets get back to tasteless jokes, wild stories of food consumption and self-deprecation. An out of order recap of sorts:

Bar SS – Laporte, CO:

A cool honky tonk in the seeming middle of nowhere. Alas, poorly attended night, due possibly/hopefully to the huge free street festival in nearby Fort Collins (“The Flowbots are playing for free right now…”). Alas, it’s how it goes with the traveling music show sometimes (we hope it’s universal) – you get booked, you go, you hope. Fortunately, we generate enough private jokes each day to sustain near-constant smiles and amusement while on the stage, and do enjoy playing nearly all situations. We only hope that bleeds out into the audience too. Much of our crowd was made up of old hometown pals of yers truly. The shared memory forest of a crew of folks who knew you “back when” is rife with the potential booby trap of getting embarrassed about something that happened 15 years ago without it even being mentioned, merely considered. You know? Just me?

When checking in to our single motel room, the check-in lady expressed concern about some of the slackers wandering around her courtyard, smoking cigarettes, looking generally shifty. I’m sure you folks know who and what I’m talking about. (Perhaps you share some of the same concerns!) Apparently, she feared that we, like the last band who stayed in her establishment, were going to trash the kitchenette (a minifridge with a tiny microwave stacked on top of it). “Trashed” on this occasion meant that they had . . . turned the microwave upside down!!!!!!! Cue frantic strings!! (I mean Stephen King movie frantic strings, not Hot Seats frantic strings.) I assured her that we were upstanding and that she shouldn’t judge a person based upon his or her chosen occupation and desire to occupy a single room with a full 900+ pounds of road-ripe manflesh.

Anyway . . .

The next day we decided to capitalize on the fest that had (maybe) taken our crowd. Busking. Busking is great, we enjoy doing it. It can be lucrative, too. Our advantage, generally, is that we’re loud. Banjos are loud. Washboards are loud. We like to shout. Some are entertained out of dollar, others are just morbidly fascinated, I’d say. Doesn’t really matter to us which, just make with the dollar already. There’s a long and storied tradition of freakshows and carnie culture in this world. We’re not very proud.

We busked in Boulder for a couple of days too, surrounding our Lyons and Carbondale shows. The first day, we had a couple of (very nice) guys kind of lurking while we played—I think we were in their normal spot. After we stopped, we learned that it was a bagpipe player and a drummer (a djembe-ist, of course). The piper described himself as being “like if Jimi Hendrix was an octopus,” and of the bagpipes, “after you’ve heard me, it’ll be your favorite instrument.” Yikes! He was pretty good, but man . . . making claims like that isn’t really a foolproof way to get people to be impressed. We prefer to raise lowered expectations. Hard when your so damned attractive, but somehow we manage.

In Lyons, Bennie played a heap of vintage pinball machines, including the massive Hercules and alluring Elvira! We also met a great new friend from the home state named Gina, who would end up being our host for two nights in her sweet little farmhouse on the outskirts of Boulder. Did I mention that the west is empty? Comparatively, anyway, to someone who lives on rte 95. You go 5 miles out of Boulder and it gets pretty country pretty quick. I mean, there are scattered mini-malls and the like, but still, a lot of room. We heard a bunch of coyotes yipping and howling, which was totally cute!

The drive to Carbondale took us through some of the coolest scenery we’d witnessed in a while, specifically the Glenwood Canyon and ending with Mount Sopris looming atop Carbondale itself. The show itself was in a sweet shop with old beater vintage guitars, ukes and banjos hanging off the walls and ceiling. All in attendance were, as usual and expected, charming and jaunty.

And that was our goodbye (for now) to Colorado.

On our way back across Kansas, we drove through a pretty amazing belt of thunderstorms. A native Kansan might shrug in a blasé, unimpressed fashion at our gape-jawed wonder, but man that’s a lot of sky and a lot of lightning! At the end of our long drive day, we spent the night at a—I’ll put it nicely—run down convention center hotel in Salina, KS. (2+1/2 stars! We thought we were golden!) The main attraction was that they had a waterslide in the pool; yes, this is how decisions are made. And it was probably the right decision. Ben Belcher slid the waterslide approximately 50 times, mastering many of the dismount possibilities.

Kansas, on the whole, gets a bad rap as a drive. How many times do I have to hear that it’s “literally flatter than a pancake?” (Hey, if you’re a microorganism, a pancake’s not so flat!) The roads are super straight and as fast as can be. And you’ve got sunflower fields to rival Provence, sorghum fields to rival, um… Texas? On top of that, when you first drive west through Kansas and then come back east, you get to see the other side of the slight, sloping hills! It’s totally different!

We had a raucous, dive-bar style show at Auntie Mae’s Parlor in Manhattan “the Little Apple” Kansas. Another great scene in a small town. We hope to make it back.

St Louis was Eddie’s birthday! Old man Eddie, about to leave his 20’s forever. Get those ya yas out now, the decade of dogs and dews is about to come to an end! From next year on, it’s all vitamin water and Luna bars! We had a great Mexican dinner Beef cheek! beef… head? (Ask Jake about it.) Followed by a fun but nearly empty show in a club where empty feels really really empty. St Louis, we’ll be back to entertain you in October. Let’s rendezvous, shall we?

Frankfort, Kentucky was good to us as usual. The Kentucky Coffeetree Cafe and their audience certainly rank in the upper echelon of venues for bands like us.

And then it was Bristol time again! I don’t know why Bristol likes us so much, but they seem to. First we got to watch Miss Tess and the Bonton Parade demolish the crowd on State Street for Border Bash in a very smooth and loving manner. Afterwards, we had a really fun set, involving a host of 5-10 year old kids, all dancing and shouting “you rock!” at us before, during, and after every song. So validating to have the confidence of the youth, I have to say.

We followed our State St set with a couple of sets at Machiavelli’s. The Bristol crowd really brings us back to our roots in Richmond, as they can seem like an indifferent crowd – talking, socializing, etc – but it’s only that they are demanding a particular sort of interaction. Somewhere between shameless cow-towing and patronizing abuse, as I see it. Once you make clear your intentions to barrage and entertain, dancing happens, partying takes place. Perfect time for fast, loose, and loud. It’s how we cut our teeth, and it’s fun to be presented with a challenging, rowdy crowd.

Occasionally.

And now rest for a hot minute and ship back out West to Wyoming for Labor Day weekend. Just got word today that test pressing of our new 7” is in the mail, so (I hope) we’ll be seeing new product here in just a little while.

OK, over and out,

PF Hotseats, on behalf of the Hot Seats LLC.

August 18, 2010

75 MPH speed limit? Ah, the freedom of Mountain Time! This van is moving folks! PF here, just getting through with today’s 7.5 hour shift behind the wheel. We’re on a driving day ‘twixt Blue Springs, MO and Salida, CO. That’s right! We are touring the outer territories! It was an amazing thing Mr. Jefferson did when he purchased the entirety of the world west of the Mississippi River from the Venusian overlords for 10 cents an acre. Certainly all of the Pacific and Southeast Asia is amazing, but Kansas . . .yes indeed, this is fertile plain for certain. The fertility is apparent especially in the total biomass of bugs that now is plastered on the windshield and front grill of the van. Presumably there must be some overcrowding issues, and these brave and selfless souls have taken it upon themselves to ease the discomfort of others. It seems so simple and sensible, in some ways. No?

There’s a great portion of a David Foster Wallaceessay from A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again where he discusses the sinusoidal nature of Kansas highway and the calming effect it has on a driver. I may be poorly remembering the essay but Ben and I, in the front seat, both experienced moments of great clarity as brought to the front of the brain by the ceaseless roll and pitch of interstate 70. Like the detritus of the van that rolls forward when someone makes a quick stop: memories (early elementary school moments of embarrassment (peeing ones pants) and triumph (stealing someone else’s pants); epiphanies (“I’m tired of driving!” “Kansas is big!” “Someone stole my pants!”); other such mental explosions.

So what are we doing, where have we been? I don’t feel the need to recap every moment, as I’ve done in previous entries, but here’s a brief synopsis, anyway:

Tour started with a typically excellent time in WV at the Purple Fiddle. Honestly, we hope that WV’s full potential and beauty is never fully discovered. A selfish notion, indeed, but who wants to share anything great with too many people? Well, actually, feel free to break that rule when discussing The Hot Seats. We yearn to be passed around the masses like so many inappropriate analogies. Thanks to Ben Butterworth for the opening goodness.
Lexington Kentucky: Oh Al’s Bar, we love your grit, grass-finished beef burgers and the kindness you show musicians, but hey Lexington, why not come out and see The Hot Seats play? Thanks to Shane and Ada for the hospitality that we’ll also be hitting up next week!
Great time in Farmington MO at Bauhaus Kaffee. This venue and these people (Tim and Kerry) fit into a pool of promoters/music people who are able to take a seemingly music-less area and, through the grace of their efforts and the trust that other people put into their choices, build a great music scene from nothing (The Brass Rail in Ft Wayne comes to mind, as does Over The Mountain in Rockton, PA). We hope to make this spot a repeat venue. Check out some pics of the show HERE, and thanks to the Big Idea for opening.

St Louis Zoo – Maybe the best free zoo in the country? Reptile house is chock full of big beauteous snakes and turtles and sundry lizards and saurians; primate house is not overly depressing, and we got to watch penguins eat.

Blue Springs, MO: More gracious promoters (Brad!)! And a great venue in the midst of what seems to be a cultural desert (at least the immediate surroundings).

And now we drive. Drive drive drive. A mere 12 hours today, nothing for us, as you know. Plus we are entering two new states in the process. Kansas, we’ll be back for you next week, but Colorado is climbing up ahead of us. Where’d you guys get all this sky, anyway?

August 20th

OK, 36 hours just disappear without comment, so it goes. Ever heard of the unreliable narrator? Well, imagine if, on top of writing half-truths and conjecture, he/she also is lazy about even getting around to the lies. How frustrating it must be for you. Sorry.

Anyway, en route from Salida to Laporte. We have invented a kind of poor man’s altimeter: buy a bag a chips at 7,000ft and observe… 11,000ft ought to bring it to near critical pressure, with gradations in between.

We had an excellent time playing for a youthful crowd at the Salida Cafe, led on by our Salida guide and very gracious host, Clark. Salida’s got art galleries, thrift stores and coffee shops for miles. A good place for “a bunch of fun-time dudes” (Jake’s description). The Arkansas River flowing right through downtown. It’s a big outdoor sports area, which for us means a special opportunity to feel especially out of shape and cowardly around studly girls and guys. There is, of course, some status awarded to traveling musicians, as though we’re somehow engaged in an extreme sport. Yes, the extremities of $10/day, 15 hour drives, and questionable food that sits in the van for too long. Public restroom use occupies its own tier of the high-risk sports arena.

Now, we are Virginia boys, as you know, and there’s a heap of really big mountains out here. So we’ve been snapping shots of every vista like that old stereotype of stringband musicians, just chattering away and driving poorly. No, that’s not the point. What was I going to say, oh yes. . .

Our first trip to Colorado! It’s always loomed as a tour we should do. There’s a long history of bluegrass-ish music here, though certainly the most well known bands (Hot Rize aside) have been of the jam-grass category. That’d be a label we want no part of! But you know that old saying? “If you wanna play Boulder, gotta have a djembe in your hand!” (Ed just pointed out, “If you wanna play with Eddie, gotta have a doggie in yer hand.” So there’s that).

We’re super excited to be here right now, bringing a bit of oldtimey goodness to a new place and taking in the largeness of the west. During the day yesterday we went on a jaunt up Monarch’s Crest, and on the way down gave a ride to a couple of hikers who it turned out were from Manassas VA. Getting that “small world” feeling in such a big place. Ah life . . .

Tonight we’re at a honkytonk in Laporte, CO, called Bar SS (“double ess”). We plan on going thick on the honky, thin on the tonky.

Ok, ramblings over.

We’d like to introduce a new feature of the blog we’ll call “Hot Garbage — Adventures in Van Archaeology”. So here are the current contents of The Hot Seats van trash bag:

• empty pack of Marlboro Special Blends (Ed)
• cherry pits and stems, carrot stumps (Jake, band)
• grapefruit rinds
• plastic bag what once held 8 pieces of Safeway fried chicken
• chicken rinds
• Ricola wrappers and snotty tissues (Graham has a cold)
• Kettle chips bags (2) – empty (Josh and Graham, with help)
• 20 oz Mountain Dew – empty(Ed)

August 18, 2010

75 MPH speed limit? Ah, the freedom of Mountain Time! This van is moving folks! PF here, just getting through with today’s 7.5 hour shift behind the wheel. We’re on a driving day ‘twixt Blue Springs, MO and Salida, CO. That’s right! We are touring the outer territories! It was an amazing thing Mr. Jefferson did when he purchased the entirety of the world west of the Mississippi River from the Venusian overlords for 10 cents an acre. Certainly all of the Pacific and Southeast Asia is amazing, but Kansas . . .yes indeed, this is fertile plain for certain. The fertility is apparent especially in the total biomass of bugs that now is plastered on the windshield and front grill of the van. Presumably there must be some overcrowding issues, and these brave and selfless souls have taken it upon themselves to ease the discomfort of others. It seems so simple and sensible, in some ways. No?

There’s a great portion of a David Foster Wallaceessay from A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again where he discusses the sinusoidal nature of Kansas highway and the calming effect it has on a driver. I may be poorly remembering the essay but Ben and I, in the front seat, both experienced moments of great clarity as brought to the front of the brain by the ceaseless roll and pitch of interstate 70. Like the detritus of the van that rolls forward when someone makes a quick stop: memories (early elementary school moments of embarrassment (peeing ones pants) and triumph (stealing someone else’s pants); epiphanies (“I’m tired of driving!” “Kansas is big!” “Someone stole my pants!”); other such mental explosions.

So what are we doing, where have we been? I don’t feel the need to recap every moment, as I’ve done in previous entries, but here’s a brief synopsis, anyway:

Tour started with a typically excellent time in WV at the Purple Fiddle. Honestly, we hope that WV’s full potential and beauty is never fully discovered. A selfish notion, indeed, but who wants to share anything great with too many people? Well, actually, feel free to break that rule when discussing The Hot Seats. We yearn to be passed around the masses like so many inappropriate analogies. Thanks to Ben Butterworth for the opening goodness.
Lexington Kentucky: Oh Al’s Bar, we love your grit, grass-finished beef burgers and the kindness you show musicians, but hey Lexington, why not come out and see The Hot Seats play? Thanks to Shane and Ada for the hospitality that we’ll also be hitting up next week!
Great time in Farmington MO at Bauhaus Kaffee. This venue and these people (Tim and Kerry) fit into a pool of promoters/music people who are able to take a seemingly music-less area and, through the grace of their efforts and the trust that other people put into their choices, build a great music scene from nothing (The Brass Rail in Ft Wayne comes to mind, as does Over The Mountain in Rockton, PA). We hope to make this spot a repeat venue. Check out some pics of the show HERE, and thanks to the Big Idea for opening.

St Louis Zoo – Maybe the best free zoo in the country? Reptile house is chock full of big beauteous snakes and turtles and sundry lizards and saurians; primate house is not overly depressing, and we got to watch penguins eat.

Blue Springs, MO: More gracious promoters (Brad!)! And a great venue in the midst of what seems to be a cultural desert (at least the immediate surroundings).

And now we drive. Drive drive drive. A mere 12 hours today, nothing for us, as you know. Plus we are entering two new states in the process. Kansas, we’ll be back for you next week, but Colorado is climbing up ahead of us. Where’d you guys get all this sky, anyway?

August 20th

OK, 36 hours just disappear without comment, so it goes. Ever heard of the unreliable narrator? Well, imagine if, on top of writing half-truths and conjecture, he/she also is lazy about even getting around to the lies. How frustrating it must be for you. Sorry.

Anyway, en route from Salida to Laporte. We have invented a kind of poor man’s altimeter: buy a bag a chips at 7,000ft and observe… 11,000ft ought to bring it to near critical pressure, with gradations in between.

We had an excellent time playing for a youthful crowd at the Salida Cafe, led on by our Salida guide and very gracious host, Clark. Salida’s got art galleries, thrift stores and coffee shops for miles. A good place for “a bunch of fun-time dudes” (Jake’s description). The Arkansas River flowing right through downtown. It’s a big outdoor sports area, which for us means a special opportunity to feel especially out of shape and cowardly around studly girls and guys. There is, of course, some status awarded to traveling musicians, as though we’re somehow engaged in an extreme sport. Yes, the extremities of $10/day, 15 hour drives, and questionable food that sits in the van for too long. Public restroom use occupies its own tier of the high-risk sports arena.

Now, we are Virginia boys, as you know, and there’s a heap of really big mountains out here. So we’ve been snapping shots of every vista like that old stereotype of stringband musicians, just chattering away and driving poorly. No, that’s not the point. What was I going to say, oh yes. . .

Our first trip to Colorado! It’s always loomed as a tour we should do. There’s a long history of bluegrass-ish music here, though certainly the most well known bands (Hot Rize aside) have been of the jam-grass category. That’d be a label we want no part of! But you know that old saying? “If you wanna play Boulder, gotta have a djembe in your hand!” (Ed just pointed out, “If you wanna play with Eddie, gotta have a doggie in yer hand.” So there’s that).

We’re super excited to be here right now, bringing a bit of oldtimey goodness to a new place and taking in the largeness of the west. During the day yesterday we went on a jaunt up Monarch’s Crest, and on the way down gave a ride to a couple of hikers who it turned out were from Manassas VA. Getting that “small world” feeling in such a big place. Ah life . . .

Tonight we’re at a honkytonk in Laporte, CO, called Bar SS (“double ess”). We plan on going thick on the honky, thin on the tonky.

Ok, ramblings over.

We’d like to introduce a new feature of the blog we’ll call “Hot Garbage — Adventures in Van Archaeology”. So here are the current contents of The Hot Seats van trash bag:

• empty pack of Marlboro Special Blends (Ed)
• cherry pits and stems, carrot stumps (Jake, band)
• grapefruit rinds
• plastic bag what once held 8 pieces of Safeway fried chicken
• chicken rinds
• Ricola wrappers and snotty tissues (Graham has a cold)
• Kettle chips bags (2) – empty (Josh and Graham, with help)
• 20 oz Mountain Dew – empty(Ed)

” Saturday, August 14

The Hot Seats

Al’s Bar, 9:00 P.M. All ages.

Why, just the other day I was returning from Hanson’s Drug, fresh
from bolting down an ice-cold sarsaparilla and full with sugar and gaiety,
when I thought I’d look in on the old boys at the club. After some jokes
and tomfoolery a friend burst in with a bottle of corn liquor, another fella
withdrew a banjo from who-knows-where, and the ensuing racket was just
about the most perfect song I’d heard in my young life.”
—Buck Edwards

from North Of Center Magazine – http://noclexington.com

Hello interwebs!

It’s been a long time, I realize, since last we posted a tour log or note from the van or anything (March, I believe). There’s no great excuses for this, besides general laziness, and perhaps the nausea that comes from riding in a van and staring into a laptop.

PF here, lounging in my palatial Richmond abode. We’re coming to the end of a very leisurely spring: many 3-5 day trips, mostly regional. It’s been pretty relaxing. There’s no way for me to catalog every moment for you, but I will illustrate some highlights in the form of linked pictures.

1. Busking in NYC, Jake starts to look like Walter Sobcheck from The Big Lebowski!

2. Deep Fried Butter at the Texas Pete Twin City Ribfest!

3. This happens So Frequently!! There’s no way not to include a picture. Poor Ed’s intestines.

OK, I realize that basically none of this had to do with music, but hey who can take pictures when they’re playing? Not us!

The new EP is moments away from completion, stay tuned and you’ll know. This one’s coming out on vinyl, which is pretty exciting (and totally suicide from a business perspective). We’re pretty proud of our ability to sound old-timey, while not sounding neutered. More info ASAP.

OK, this is clearly not going very far, but I did feel the need to write something, so you’d know that we’re still out there!

Stay tuned for more topical rants!

Love,
PF

Hello there.

PF Hot Seat here, sitting shotgun to Meester Heironymous Volcano, who’s currently yelling at a driver in a ridiculously done-up Civic who can’t decide if he wants to go 75 in the right lane or 60 in the left lane. We’re in hour 15 of our Austin to Richmond extravaganza and perhaps the senses are all a bit acute at the moment. Such long jaunts in a van are known to beget altogether new senses and abilities: the 6th sense of hilarious/disturbing billboard detection, the 7th sense allowing the driver to know just when a band member’s bladder has reached capacity, the ability to sleep in cartoonishly contorted positions, and the unusual realization at the similarity between fast food restaurant exhaust and fart smell. Personally, I find that currently my arms and hands are moving somewhat independently of my brain. Not that they’re doing things on their own—more that, as I stare at them, they seem to have no significance as originating from my body. Oh, I see now that Jake is actually poking his arms through my armpits, having a larf. Hah. We joke! So funny! ( …only 9 hours to go.)

I realize that a whole tour has gone by with no blog reports yet. No excuse for that, I’ll admit, just the easily distracted mind of the professional stringband musician. Too many details have already faded to give a proper day-to-day report, but here’s a summary.

I’ll start on a more general note. You may not have a good sense of the life of the migratory stringband—hell, we’re not even clear on how other bands do it—but for us, it works thusly. Frequently we’ll roll into a town with no clear idea where we are sleeping. We Hot Seats are firm believers in the Priceline bidding system of hotel roomery, but generally we are looking in the under $20/room range. As you might imagine, this sometimes leads to hotel beds upon which you DO NOT want to sleep. More often, however, we end up staying at someone’s house. We have slept five abreast on the tiniest floor of the shittiest apartment, and we have lived like kings with separate rooms and meals aplenty.

Now, if you are a person that puts up traveling bands, you are automatically a saint and there’s a special place carved out in whatever afterlife you choose, just for you. When next you see a band on stage, if you can just tell that they can’t afford a hotel room, and don’t seem to have any friends in town, and if you have a relatively clean house with floor space and/or couches and/or spare bedrooms, you can instantly make 2-7 new friends, just like that! Now, I can’t speak for other bands, but when The Hot Seats come to stay at your house, we aim for the “Best Guest” award. E-v-e-r-y time. We’ll do dishes, we’ll sweep, we’ll empty yer trash, we’ll make you breakfast (and then clean up after ourselves).

In this way, we have been fortunate in our travels to have made some great friends. Some offer their homes and company ahead of time, and some turn out to be that particular saint who says at 2:30am, “Sure, you can come stay at my house! We have two guest rooms and I just happen to have made a massive 10 gallon pot of soup that I’ll never finish on my own.”

There have been too many hosts to name, and we don’t want to offend by neglecting to mention anyone by name, so I’ll stick to this tour and thank the following people: Don in Damascus (possibly our longest standing patron), Brent in Knoxville, Jon and Pam in Huntsville, Margaux in Ocean Springs (twice!), Brook and Gavin in Montevallo, Steve and Mary in Baton Rouge (Special prize for these two. No offense to any of our other hosts, but these two had gumbo ready for us to eat the moment we arrived, and an endless buffet of delicious sandwiches, boudin, beers and bourbon after the show. Phew1 Hard to top!), and Chad, Corey, and Christina in Austin. Every one of you, and any of our other hosts, you will all be welcome in the kingdom of The Hot Seats, some day after January 1st, 2012.

Again, sparing you the blow-by-blow account of these last 10 days and shows (almost wholly successful and tons of fun), I’ll lay out some highlights (and a few pics):

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!