Last night in Charleston, SC a tornado passed us by. The humans we were staying with slept through it but the seven Welsh corgis and one cat who shared the house did anything but. There was much mewling and yapping – thunder and lightning, howling wind and lashing rains. The roof kept us dry and our earplugs let us sleep, but upon the morning news pass we realized that a tornado had stuck just a couple of miles south of us wiping out a house and damaging a dozen more – the weather smells of spent energy and humidity and it’s not till later in the day that we see blue skies and clear air again.
Last night we played an open mic at the Parson Jack’s in Charleston and it worked pretty much the way it was SUPPOSED to work. After a couple of nights of disappointing forays into southern music scenes, it was good to find a community of players supporting one another who in turn were enthusiastic about US. We played, passed out cards, bonded and chatted, got some names on the mailing list, watched as an over-laden birthday cake set off the fire alarm (in key to the performer on stage at the time) and generally had a good night. We were sort of due one!
Since Friday night’s show at JP Hops every night we’ve played has been kind of blah – Saturday night at Neutral Ground in New Orleans was a mostly dead night, with a constant stream of apologetic texts and messages saying “I’ve got to work late, sorry” “I pulled a double, sorry” from the dozen or so friends who’d planned to come out. It’s a small enough place that those dozen people would’ve made it feel FULL but as it was, the first act’s crowd quickly followed the first act out the front door, the air conditioning died shortly thereafter and we sweated our way through a miserable set on the last summer’s weekend of New Orleans.
Sunday was a drive day. A LONG drive day. It didn’t feel as brutal as it perhaps was, but my shoulder, which has felt cramped and strained since Houston, continues to scream bloody murder to this day. Passing through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and on into Florida in quick succession – it’s not until the latter that I feel YELLED at by every billboard and placard. Some signs yell that heartbeats start at 14 days after conception. Other signs claim 18. Apparently a large percentage of the Florida population is highly concerned about the state of my eternal soul and reminders that Hell is even hotter than the summer’s afternoon surrounding us are frequent possibly only outstripped by advertisements for “gentlemen’s clubs” – pun intended.
As an atheist I almost feel guilty crossing the border, like I’ve entered under false pretenses. Another billboard shows 3 white babies and a black one with the declaration that 1 in four babies are killed because of “choice”. My cynicism is roused and the controversy over Florida’s Stand Your Ground Law makes a second meaning for this sign all too clear.
Monday night we hit up an open mic in Jacksonville that was nothing but a waste of time. We made two new fans but they were our host’s kids and we could’ve done THAT in their Living room. As it was, the moment we were plugged in and playing the host headed to the bathroom and the previous act hit the patio to smoke.
Savannah passed in a blur of adventure and exploration – and Wednesday we wandered the Savannah Wildlife Preserve (actually in South Carolina) and spotted alligators and birds and photographed veritable cathedrals of old southern trees and tangles of Spanish moss. Thursday found us moving on to Charleston, wandering the markets and streets in a cold rain, finding coffee and beauty in the drizzle before heading to the open mic.
This morning it’s off for coffee at an exquisite tasting and exquisitely hip joint in Northern Charleston with Nitro Coffee (the official name for the beer-tap-brewed cold coffee that we’d discovered in Austin – it’s a thing!) and we’re killing time and catching up before heading to our hotel. Grateful to all of our friends for putting us up for this trip, also grateful for making enough in our travels to justify a night to ourselves (well, and also our local friend has those aforementioned seven Welsh corgis and with a gig that rolls till 1am no-one would Love us after a 7-dog salute at 2 in the morning!)
Well. The sun’s out. Battery’s almost dead. We’ve just received a message from the friend we’re staying with in a couple of nights warning that we may have to deal with “revenge pooping”. It’s never boring.
Photo dump time!!! Wandering Savannah, wandering Charleston, wandering wandering wandering…
