East of Houston the landscape starts elaborating upon itself. I had almost forgotten, but as we drove for miles and miles on a road perched atop great concrete pillars that were stuck deep in the murky waters below, the trees all around weighed down with moss laboring in the wind like floppy ogres, I was again caught up in the sheer surreality of Louisiana. ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />New Orleans would soon show me a thing or two about surrealism. Townes says it best: "My friend, we're holdin' a wedding…the night to the day is now a-bindin'." In the morning, most of the people on the streets seem like they followed the turning of the earth all the way around to the other side, holding onto last night and preserving the continuity into tonight, as they will tomorrow, etcetera.
From there we booked it to North Carolina, the landscape growing greener and taller by the hour. The bitter disappointment from a cancelled gig turned into sheer bliss as we made our way through the Shenandoah National Forest in Virginia. We drove miles and miles to this purported campsite, out further than any sane person dare venture. We're not actually sure to this day if it ever existed at all.
West Virginia's Purple Fiddle took us in with open arms. This is another place that felt like a dream, those phantom towns nestled in the mountains where everyone seems to know everyone, including you. We found a special family there, and I still have the key to your bed and breakfast room, June Apple. It's a good excuse to send you a care package or drive it over myself sometime.
Straight from the bosom of the mountains up to the city, I mean The City. Within an hour our window was smashed out and our GPS stolen. We climbed nine flights of stairs to a rooftop party overlooking Brooklyn and watched the Fourth of July fireworks. All five sets of them at once. The Texans at the party began amassing in the smallest room in the house, and I couldn't help but avoid it. The New Yorkers have gotten a bad rap in the South for being callous and hurried, but the people to whom I talked were nothing but warm and inviting. The New York subway fascinates me. This is another place that is caught between night and day, awake and sleep. The couples arguing and necking, the families with nine children all strictly organized in a mobile row, the playboys with their collars popped, the many people from foreign lands wearing a mixture of clothing from their home and from America, and the hip-hop grunge cowboys strung out on last night: everyone takes the subway.
Boston and the Burren Pub brought us into a musical whirlwind. Hugh McGowan and Tyler Nash showed us the best music in the town and let us sleep late on their couches. Tom Bianchi, Kevin So, and Greg Klyma were there too, playing their hearts out for us. We were proud to play alongside these wise men.
Vermont has this ever-growing family of friends that is the most amazing phenomenon I have ever seen, short of this Central Texas blob. Everyone knows everyone, like in West Virginia, there's just more of everyone. Montpelier, the state's capital, is the only one without a McDonald's (you know, the fast-food restaurant chain?). Makes sense that so many great minds call it home. Anais Mitchell, Peaches and Jessica Hearne and all your wonderful cronies, thanks for putting us up and putting up with us.
My Illinois friends have underrated Illinois. Not that they don't constantly talk about how awesome Illinois is, they just don't freak out enough about it. Chicago is one of the most amazing cities I've seen, I was freaking out. No one prepared me for this. Cody Johnson also had to come surprise us with his generous spirit and zest for getting a rise out of people, his friends and random randos alike, and amplify it that much more. The Charleston saw one of the best shows The Blue Hit put on that whole tour (I know, I was there). Maybe it was the fellas who pulled their chairs right up to the edge of the stage like it was a catwalk. Maybe it was the free heady-dank beer. But I was coated in sweat and super-charged from the air in that place. And I wanna go back, please.
The sleepy drive back through the Midwest took two days, and I-35 has never looked so beautiful to me. Rolling down the highway with concrete walls on either side, orange barrels, and the sprawling shopping centers, I cried my eyes out. Time for a new phase in life, time to get ready for what comes next. Time for recording studios and steady work for awhile. I hope you find our travels have upped the musical ante, and I hope to bring you some deliberate sounds in the near future.