There must be an elementary school next door at recess. They sang some sort of song with hand claps together in unison, all muffled by the walls of the house I’m in, before I assume they went inside. It’s now very quiet.
Just after noon, last day of any playing on this trip, and I’m making a slow day of it. My host, friend Michael Berkowitz (originally from Maryland), is at work, planning to meet me tonight for the Lizard Lounge open mic contest in Cambridge that rob and I have done a couple times before. Rob has expressed that he thinks I can win it on my own where we could not as a duo/trio. Frankly, and I feel weird saying this ahead of time even as I’m wanting to be more truth and less PR here, I hope I can. I need a little something to say this trip was not just misplaced vanity. And those who know me well know I’m not particularly vain. It’s a vice I could use more of.
I dragged Michael to the Deluxe Diner in Watertown, which though tasty, was out of the eggplant fries I’d really come there for. We talked shop, life … Michael shares my love of the crafted song, of the folk world, of many of the same musicians. He’s settled in here like a person returning to their homeland, and I sort of knew he would. It feels nice to impress him with some of my recent tales. And we talk about the uncertain futures. He even understood a crazy “escape-plan” notion that I always thought was only mine. No, he says … everyone has looked at the Peace Corps website from time to time.
Last night at the Burren at 7:30, a half hour before showtime, Hugh McGowan is working the bar, Tom Bianchi is setting up and in walks Dan Blakeslee. Music and art royalty in New England, he also has the distinction of being rob’s RA in college, and one They’re on their way for their first Canadian tour. This was the tour on which I heard my first Canadian radio station.
So my 10pm set started closer to 10:30, when half the room immediately departed while a surprising number stayed. I opened with Phantom, to bridge the gap between me and the more traditionally inspired indie folk. The Weight next. Samples has been going over well, which makes me wonder about the status of that as my entry into the Mid-Atlantic Song Contest (Ask for Me got an honorable mention in last year’s). Bon Iver’s Bloodbank, We Must Be Ships was my answer to their songs about being on the road, Spiral Notebook. Spinning. The murder ballad. Closed out with the uke song and Love A Girl, which is a nice, solid one-two punch at the end of a set. That’s something I’ve learned on this tour.
One person moved to sit closer to the stage, right in front of me as I played. But he didn’t speak to me and he didn’t buy a cd or take a post card. A girl, broke and nursing her beer, took a post card so she could get music from me online later.
Noah Maltsberger, an electric guitar player we saw there last time with Cilla Bonnie, called me “tremendous.” I wish I felt that way. I think I don’t love the new guitar, I’m sad to say. For the way I slap the strings, I sometimes wind up with strange twangs I don’t plan. I don’t want to have to think about my guitar and how it will react to me. I’m looking for the guitar that IS me. So, I might have to do some more looking this week, which is exactly what I didn’t want to do. Some people might find gear hunting exhilarating the way some people find dating exhilarating. I find both of these to be terrifying and fraught with the exact same problems of certainty, cost, commitment and comfort.
I think I might take a walk or something and reset my mind before tonight. I already know what songs I’m going to play, but I’m not telling here, yet.
A great response from fellow Road Warrior: Seth Horan.
The difference in dynamics between touring with a duo and touring solo is indeed larger than huge, innit? Both on stage and off, you are reminded over and over again that nobody is there to have your back. On the up-side, it sounds like you are developing serious cat-like reflexes and having epiphanies left and right that will make you, dare I say, even better at what you do; both on your own and once you and Sir Rob reunite. On the down-side, you gotta wear five hats at all times, keep your game face on 24-7, and never let your guard down, and in my experience, the psyche doesn't do well with all that wear-and-tear if it doesn't get a scooby-snack here and there. I think you're remaining remarkably balanced and positive though, and am sending positive mojo your way. Also trying to remember if there are decent scooby-snacks-for-the-soul anywhere in Connecticut. But no. Alas, there are none. So here's a virtual hug. :]
