I have to guess that being in a band is a pretty good way to pass the time if you live in Mississippi - just as it had once served as an escape for men of that region like Skip James, Robert Johnson, and Muddy Waters, it now serves a purpose for a trio of young gentlemen who not only share a common birthplace with those late, great bluesmen, but also a penchant for wandering from town to town, and playing music for new folks. The gentlemen in question are the group
Dark Knights of Camelot, and instead of traveling from one juke joint to the next playing acoustic blues (or in Waters case, the electrified version he rocked when transported to Chicago), the group bring to mind 1960's purveyors of the sound such as Blue Cheer, The Groundhogs, and Cream while balancing it with an appreciation for 90's guitar rock like Dinosaur Jr.
Guitarist/vocalist Ben Shea took note of his days spent on the road from his home in Mississippi, headed northward, and then back again - his time spent on the American road is presented here as part of These American Roads continued attempt to document travels throughout this country. Ben's writings give a pretty good representation of what life on the road for a young band is truly like -- the hardships, the new friendships, the longing for somebody back home, and the thrill of traveling the country with a couple of friends doing what you enjoy doing the most.
Dark Knights of Camelot Sprin 2009 travel diary:
By Ben Shea
March 11, 2009 6:30 pm
The cut on my head brought a sense of realness to the endeavor we
embarked on. Time stopped for ten seconds and felt like ten minutes.
A primal rage sprung forth from my chest which had been hibernating
for the past few years. I felt alive. Routines seemed to have stolen
the same vigor that was unleashed last night. It seems like to more I
try to unleash myself from my cage, the more I am trapped. I must be
freed. Some call it God, some call it an awakening. Whatever it is,
it happened.
Tupelo, MS
March 12, 2009 1:30 am
The people gathered in a dark, dingy room that resembled a dungeon
to drink their minds away and play trivia. How we ended up here, I'm
not sure. After setting up our gear and merchandise, we waited for
our free pizza. "Look but don't touch," the women said with their
eyes. Several young punkers asked us to get high. I declined and
continued outside to smoke a cigarette. Showtime. I let loose and
let my muscle memory and imagination take over. I smile quietly and
let my fingers do what they do.
I'm not sure why I still think about her. Her silent, tragic,
mysterious way left its imprint on my mind. She told me to leave her
alone and forget her. It makes me want her more. She says she's
going to Africa. I want her here with me. Bla bla bla... Circles
continue and I go round and round.
Starkville, MS
March 13, 2009 4:30 pm
I don't understand anything.
Tuscaloosa, AL
March 14, 2009 6:15 pm
Rojo. Needs become apparent when traveling. Right now I need to
urinate, but I am too passive to request for a bathroom stop.
Frugality.
One woman enters the night to leave with two men. My mind wonders
throughout the chapters of this book I have yet to write. Different
thoughts surface each passing minute, sometimes very rapidly. I'm
never satisfied. I am less than everyone else, yet I deserve the
world. I lack purpose, yet I feel like my path is chalked with
purpose. I need a woman, but I cannot handle one. I am sick. I am
weary. I love this. Where will life take me? Living is definitely
suicide. Fight.
Birmingham, AL
March 20, 2009 7:00 pm
I do not remember the last time I was so physically ill, mentally
sick, paranoid, and drained. Two days ago, I could barely envision
myself getting better. Now it is as if I was never sick. The show in
Nashville was incredible. It was crazy seeing friends that I had not
seen in four years. Kate was still sweet and inviting as she ever
was. I got to drive her standard from the party back to Nashville.
That was an adventure in itself. Someone, not saying names,
definitely got their neck gnawed on by a woman last night. Rita! Its
easy to forget how revolutionary the Beatles are. Being stuck in
traffic seems to be more than just remaining stationary. It is a test
from gods, a test of mental strength. Good morning. Music will save
us. Its our last chance. We move thirty feet. Whirlwinds bring
necessary changes.
March 21, 2009 7:00 pm
There are no destinations, just journeys, and I almost forgot that
when I heard our show got canned in Asheville. I had it in my head
how this writing was going to turn out. It was going to be artsy and
witty. Now I don't even know what to write. I feel dumb.
Inspiration has its way of leaving me high and dry only to return in
my darkest hour, never unfolding on my time. It has been a pleasant
enough day... blue skies and a moderate temperature.
I know she didn't called to tell me she had been shooting heroin.
She called to say she needed help. She cannot get the release she
could once get from going out with her friends. She thinks its the
only natural, logical chain of events that should occur. She believes
she's tragic. I think she is right. I don't understand tragedy's
place in the world, what its function is, but the sick side of me
really loves it.
Down another country road... Another vehicle cut us off... Another
day... Another set... Another attempt to find the truth. I once
worried what I sounded like when I spoke, what people thought of me.
I'm glad I am finally free. Dreams have been foggy and very
disturbing. Themes of time travel, bloodied bodies, womanizing, and
that empty feeling in my soul have manifested themselves in during the
past several nights. I hope the dark era of sleep is over for me.
Atlanta, GA (should be Asheville, NC)
March 22, 2009 4:00 pm
People can be so kind. There are still good people in this world.
Damien and Josh were living proof. Fellow musicians happen to be
hanging out during the "clean up" slot at a DIY venue, heard our cry
for help, and answered! They too lived and breathed music. Meditate.