Dear Internet,
Sorry for the delay between posts. I'm sure many of you have been
frustatedly refreshing the site over the past week in the hope of more
news, dumb stories and needlessly detailed accounts of my more mundane activities, but I haven't had a chance to sit down at a computer for a
while. Here I am though, in a student house in Philadelphia, with time to kill and a lot to catch up on. Which means I probably need to apologise for this being a long post too. Feel free to skip through and just look at the photos or whatever.
Alright. Berrrminghamm, Alabama. The show here took place at the Spring Street Firehouse, which is where Eric, the guy setting up the show lives. I met up with him and we hung out for a little bit, before we rode over to Piggly Wiggly (yeah, that's right, Piggly Wiggly) to buy some beer. Eric wouldn't let me pay. He's a sweetheart. We drank some of those beers and I chatted with people arriving for the show. I played an OK set and people seemed to enjoy it. I can't remember the name of the next guy who played, but the internet seems to suggest he was called Leeris Perth. Maybe he was. Anyway, he was good, but I would have liked less reverb so that I could hear his songs. Then a fun middle-aged surf-rock band called The High Fidelics played a really fun set. Side note: I am becoming very used to being the oldest person in the room when I play a show, which maybe explains why I make an allusion to their age, but nobody else's. Anyway, I was drinking and having a fun time the whole show, then we went out to a bar across the street, where we sat around cracking bad jokes. I had another drink that I really didn't need with Eric's housemate back at their place, then it was definitely bed-time. I woke up with my first significant hangover of the tour, but it felt good to have blasted away the malaise accrued in New Orleans.
The next show was in Atlanta. I got in to town in the mid-afternoon and was picked up by my host for the night, Angel. He'd just been leading 150 people on a 7 mile hike, so was ready for a nap by the time we got back to his flat. He went ahead and took one and I strolled around Atlanta, watching the sun go down from beautiful Piedmont Park
I couldn't get a ride back to Midtown where I was staying, so I walked about three and a half miles to get there, which was pretty nice and not as scary as some of the kids at the show had suggested it would be. I ummed and ahhed about whether to accept Angel's invitation to meet him and his friends in a local bar or just go to bed, but convinced myself with some pretentious idea about the reason why I am actually doing this tour that I needed to go for a drink. The bar turned out to be The Eagle, Atlanta's #1 gay dance spot. I've been out dancing in gay clubs before, but this was a whole other level. Lots of flesh and leather and sweat and blaring disco-house, and lots and lots of fun. I stayed for about an hour at which point I was feeling a little overwhelmed and went back to Angel's to get a few hours' sleep before my early bus-ride out of town. Atlanta! A great time.
From Atlanta I went to Jacksonville, Florida, for another interesting, though slightly less fun time. I ate a picnic in a nice little park full of homeless people, killed some time in the library, strolled along the riverfront, taking ANOTHER moody sunset photo for you all to enjoy:
then stopped in for a drink in a novelty Irish bar, where I met an affable drunk named Tom, with whom I chatted until it was time to head to the venue. There was nothing much going on there, so I fugured I'd go out and find something to eat. Apparently the only nearby option was Burger King. I probably don't need to describe the meal. Back at the venue, a couple of people had turned up for the show and some kid was playing woeful widdly widdly guitar on the dingy stage. My host, James (another guy from the Couchsurfing web-site) was there, as was Tom from the bar. James was really sweet, but Tom's drunken affability had crossed the border to lecherousness and he became pretty weird: "God you're trim; do you mind if I lift up your shirt for a second?" I politely declined. Anyway, I played a short set to nobody, but kind of enjoyed myself anyway, then haggled with the good natured bar-man about getting paid, took my $43 and ran away as fast as I could. Back at James' place we drank some good wine and played songs to each other on his computer. It was great.
I had no show the next day, so I rode the Greyhound up to Macon, Georgia (sitting on 40% of a seat, next to an enormously fat man) where I at least had a place to stay, with another Angel, this one female. She was very nice and took me out for a drink with some of her friends. I had another early start the next day to get to Greenville, South Carolina. Greenville seems like a nice little town and my show there was in the house of a local promoter and film-maker named Dan. He was kind enough to come and pick me up when my suitcase (guaranteed for three years: fit for the 'trash' after three weeks) broke and couldn't be dragged along any more without much mental anguish and loud swearing. Dan was working hard at smoking a turkey and putting together other food for the evening's get together, so I walked over to a nearby record store and quite spectacularly broke my vow not to buy any records until California, but still only picked up a fraction of the things I wanted in there. Back at Dan's I hung out with the evening's other performer the lovely Patrick, with whom I worked on a cover of 'Dancing In The Dark' which we later performed. The show was a lot of fun: an older crowd of friendly, appreciative people, many of whom brought along delicious food to share. Patrick played a great though short set, and, after the dessert course I played. Then, in case this sounds like it's a little too grown up, a select few of us stayed up 'til 5 am drinking whiskey and talking nonsense about music, films, girls and other important stuff like that.
OK. You're still reading? Then I'll carry on. Sorry. Next up: Thanksgiving! My show in Greensboro, North Carolina, was cancelled because it was apparent nobody was going to show up to a show in a quiet college town the day before Thanksgiving. I wasn't too bothered about this, because I had a really great looking place to stay, through another couchsurfing hook-up, Dean. He picked me up from the station with his wife an daughter, and we all went for a drink in a local bar before heading back to their farmhouse outside of town. This was designed and organised by Dean himself, on the farm where his wife, Laurel, grew up, and it was a great house, set in some beautiful land. They were great hosts throughout my two days in Greensboro, and it was great to sleep in a big, clean bed. I even had an en-suite bathroom. Dean and I stayed up to have another drink and sing some songs to each other before I crawled gratefully between the sheets.
I was excited about the next day, as I have never really experienced a Thanksgiving before and I was delighted to be invited along to Laurel's family's get-together. There were about 20 assorted family members present and each one of them was lovely. I ate a great meal and had a lot of fun hanging out and talking to people. We went for a walk through the beautiful woodlands, I ate three different kinds of dessert (out of politeness you understand) and I played a couple of songs, as did the other musicians, including a Brazillian guy called Zekcker (sp?) who sang a protest song he'd written back in the 60's! Here are some photos of my Thanksgiving experience:
I'm not sure if it's a universally recognised Thanksgiving tradition, but later we all watched the stupid but great film The Three Amigos! The icing on the hospitality cake came the next morning when I was presented with a suitcase to replace my broken one. Huge thanks to the Driver family!
From Greensboro, I headed up to Richmond, where I played in a punk house called Bauhaus Haus. This was another fun show, though the sleeping arrangements were significantly less hygienic. I played a fun show with a good Q&A session, going in both directions ("Am I still in the south?" "Kind of!" - "Is it true ya'll are gonna rise again?"). A band of lovely Canadians called Freak Heat Waves, (who've been on tour for about 11 weeks and still get along!) played, then a loud sludgy band called Glass Pennies, then local favourites The Blue Rajahs. Here they are in action:
I didn't have a show the next day, but luckily my friend Andrew from Candyland in Columbia (see post from last tour if you can be bothered) was staying with his parents in Washington DC, and he invited me to stay there. It was great to see him and hang out with his lovely, hilarious family. I played bad Scrable, drank bad beer, ate a great meal, then we went out to a crazily-expensive bar, where I blew about three nights worth of show-money on a round of drinks. Ho hum.
Here's a fun photo I took on my way out of DC the next morning:
Alright. Nearly done. From DC I rode the Megabus to Philadelphia, where I spent a few hours walking around in the freezing cold. I found a Trader Joe's, which is the best foodstore in the states and stocked up on edible foods, ate a good picnic with numb fingers, and headed over to Mount Thrashmore, the venue. The show here was an amalgamation of two separate shows which had been booked, so there were a lot of bands playing. Touring bands Sleeping Weather, Sweet Weapons and Level Up, along with locals Trunks & Tales and Spanish Club. Surprisingly, for such a full bill, everyone was good! Here are Sleeping Weather:
Thanks and sorry.
Yours,
Hugh
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