It's been hard to keep this space full, but here are some more excerpts from my running tour journal:
We are about 45 miles from Phoenix. The landscape is right out of a postcard: Sorroro Cacti dot tan red hills punctuated by sweeping rocky hills on the horizon. It's only 90 degrees, surprisingly mild compared to what I expected...strike that--the temperature just rose three degrees in three minutes.
Addison is sleeping in a contemplative pose. If you didn't know any better you think he was staring wistfully out the window. Cole is at the wheel, deftly piloting the Suburban past the now strip-mall-scarred landscape. Jacob is losing his cool with the tortoise speed of the mobile "broadband" as we seek directions to our destination. Thomas and Jon won't put their phones down, but for very different reasons. Thomas is jubilantly sharing his experience as best he can. Jon is probably at the most homesick stage of the trip he will experience.
I've settled in, and feel a good deal more calm about tonight's festivities. It turns out that The Lost Leaf (where we're playing), and Modified Arts (site of the River Jones Folk Festival) are right around the corner from one another. A coincidence that retroactively makes me look like a fucking genius.
We're almost there. Phoenix looks like just about any other city. Like Albuquerque, it has an Indian School Rd. It's up to 99 degrees now.
June 19, 2009; 2:18 p.m.
We were lucky enough to be taken in by a wonderful lady named Cindy Hensley after we finished our mildly frustrating, but still lucrative gig at The Lost Leaf. We had spent most of the day at the River Jones Folk Festival watching a series of astounding talents, chief among them the sublime subtlety of Asher Deaver, the minimalist maximalism of Randy Mandolin, the amazing ukulele virtuosity and smoky vocals of Michelle Blades, and the incomparable Courtney Marie Andrews owner of perhaps the most angelic voice I've ever heard.
We then hustled around the corner to what we thought would be and eager crowd of onlookers for our first out-of-state show. While we certainly didn't drive anyone away, the crowd was largely disinterested in us. This fact didn't sit too well with any of us and our acquired sense of entitlement to attention brought on by the slack-jawed awe of the locals where we live. It's easy to forget that not everybody will stand at attention and admire our performances.
The venue itself was nestled in what can best be described as an artists' oasis near downtown Phoenix. Each "house" was some kind of art co-op whether people were rebuilding bicycles, painting pictures, making T-shirts, or playing music in the back alley. I thought about our friend Chad Horton, originally slated to accompany us on this journey, and how much he would have loved the neighborhood.
June 20, 2009; 1:10 p.m.
Simply put, last night was absolutely incredible.
Our show in Tucson went spectacularly well. Logan Greene and The Bricks had great energy and great tunes. The Kingsfoil, fronted by a spectacular young rocker named Alex, brought great youthful energy to their sadly truncated set. The crowd was very appreciative and packed with beautiful young ladies. For the second straight evening we made over $200, only this time the energy and sound in the room were amazing.
We busked in front of a bar before the show and made a few bucks along with a few new friends. The neighborhood was yet another hip art mecca reminiscent of some of Seattle's hipper neighborhoods.
My cousin Rick was sadly unable to make it to the show. Hopefully whatever issue popped up for him at the last minute will work out for the best, and i'll get to see him next time we're in Tucson.
After the show, we ran into a couple in which the man played beautiful tunes on his fiddle while his wife (presumably) sketched masterful portraits at lightning speed with a mascara brush and a glitter pen. We then walked around the block to where the Suburban was parked, all of us in a mood somewhere between post-sexual bliss and christmas morning excitement, and waited for Asher Deaver to call us with directions to his house.
We had arranged the day before to hang out with him, Brent from You Me & Apollo, and Courtney Marie Andrews. Over the course of the night, we all connected on a musical level that plastered a dopey irremovable grin to my face. Making matters even more exciting was the invitation of Brent and Courtney to play two shows in California with them; one in San Diego, and one in Riverside (I think).
I'm listening to Courtney's music right now and struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that she paid us some wonderful compliments. Between sentiments and how moving her music is in and of itself, I have quite a lump in my throat.
The whole experience of hanging out and jamming with all three of these extraordinary musicians topped my best days by light years. I have a feeling that it was only the beginning of something larger and greater. I hope to play on all of their records even if I have to Greyhound my way to Phoenix to do it.
After a somewhat uneventful and slightly frustrating drive, we landed at Boulder Oaks Campground about 35 miles outside of San Diego. We cooked some hot dogs which were quite tasty, but tore up my digestive system the next morning. The temperature was down near 50, quite a change from the convection deserts of Arizona, and not as welcome a change as one might imagine. In a nutshell, it was fucking freezing.
I got very little sleep and my stomach hurts badly, but I get to back Brent and open for Courtney tonight. I couldn't be happier.
More to come....
-David Banuelos