But there have been many other things - wonderful and just plain weird - that are also worth mentioning.
We started the tour off with a rather grim night in Dallas. We had a tiny, though wild, crowd at Poor David's Pub. Cool place, but it was a week night and our first time there. What can I say? Those that were threatened to bring back hundreds of friends next time. That's the way we do it: Kind of a musical pyramid scheme, but hopefull everyone wins because they get to hear some music they'll love as much as their friends did.
McGonigel's Mucky Duck - weird name, but perhaps the nicest music showcase club in the country - was next. A sell-out. Much screaming and yelping from an adoring audience. We were happy, so were they. Owners Rusty and Theresa Andrews wrote the book on how to treat musicians and fans.
Next night was our third trip to the Waterloo Ice House in Austin. It was one of those nights I call "one percent nights" - when everything comes together. We could have recorded the show and released it as a live album without chopping one song. This, you should know, does not happen every night. But it really is a joy when it happens in a town known for eating bands alive. There are close to one hundred places to hear live music in Austin on a weekend night. Not only that, but many of them feature nationally recognized acts, some of whom are performing for no cover charge because they live in Austin and the Austin crowds are used to getting great music. We have friends who laughed when we first told them we were going to Austin. In essence, they said, enjoy the anticipation because the reality won't be anything like it. Guess we lucked out.
From there it was a stop at good old KEOS-FM in College Station, Texas, for a live appearance on Judith Gennett's show. Judith was one of our first DJ fans, spreading the word for us by radio. KEOS, as always, was a good time. That night, however, was one of those "learning experiences" or "building experiences"; we played to a small, but appreciative, crowd at the Crooked Path Ale House in College Station. We heard a million explanations ("School's out of session; It's your first time here; It's a new place; These Aggies don't know good music when they hear it," lots of Aggie jokes). Whatever the case, it was a let down after Austin, but those that heard us liked us and the Ale House will be a great place for music, if the fans discover it.
Now the next night had the makings of a nightmare. Gary and I have played enough Moose Lodges and VFWs in our time that we thought we could probably describe that night's venue and the scene from 100 miles away. All we knew was that we were going to the Knights of Columbus Hall in Copperas Cove, Texas. The what in where? (Sounded like it had the makings of that scene out of "The Blues Brothers" movie when they play Bob's Country Bunker.) But what we found was a new hall with a nice stage (no chicken wire to stop the beer bottles) and a packed house of soon-to-be devoted new fans.
During much of the Texas Swing portion of the tour, as on past Texas jaunts, we were bunking with Kevin's cousin Larry Schramm and his wife Janet in Austin. ( Surprised they haven't moved and gotten an unlisted number. Not only does Larry get pounded on by Kevin as a kid in New Jersey, but then Kevin brings his whole band to mooch off the guy and his understanding wife a couple times a year. We should also mention that we mooched off our friend Consuelo Murray in Dallas before that. Thanks to all these tolerant, saintly patrons of the strange arts. Without them...well, we'd be eating more cellophane-wrapped food and cursing more dumpy motels. It's nice to be able to borrow some home life when you're out seeing the country by headlight and candlelight.)
Speaking of mooching: We then went to Kevin's parents' home in Blackwood, NJ, and used it as a staging area for The Mollys Take Manhattan. We played the Fast Folk Cafe in NYC and made some friends and fans there. (OK, there WAS that woman upstairs who was pounding on her floor - the club's ceiling. She may not qualify as a friend or fan, but she has pretty damned good meter.)
From there it was up to Yonkers, NY, for a return to the civic concert stage at Untemeyer Park. Last year it rained when we showed up and the show was delayed. This year we showed up and caused a deluge, including gale force winds which snapped trees. We waited a little longer this year and had a crowd five times as large as last year's. I guess it was worth braving the rain last year; those folks brought some very determined friends this year. We had a great time on the open air stage closing the concert series there.
I went down the road to mooch off my brother, Randy, outside Washington, DC, for a couple days while the rest of the band hung out at the Schramm Family Clubhouse in New Jersey. Then the whole bunch came down and we played O'Brien's Irish Pub in Rockville, MD. It's the town where I went to high school and lived for a while as a teenager after my family moved there from Minnesota. Now, I remembered O'Brien's as a barbecue joint in an industrial park. I was getting that Bob's Country Bunker feeling again. But it turned out great. O'Brien's had moved (OK, a few blocks) and started pitching Irish music, as well as barbecue. Not a bad combination. Another small, but wildly enthusiastic first-time crowd. This tour, so far, was breaking a lot of ground.
During the down time between driving, schlepping gear and gigging, I was reading Levon Helm's "This Wheel's On Fire." A great story, if you want Levon's version of what happened to The Band. Let me say this: It's not recommended reading for Robbie Robertson fans. (And not a damned good idea for reading material for a musician on the road, for that matter.)
The next night was the legendary Twist 'n' Shout in Bethesda, MD, just outside Washington, DC. Saw a bunch of old friends there (I could tell most weren't musicians anymore, they all looked much too prosperous.) Apparently the word is out on us in DC, as it seemed half the crowd was made up of critics and local pickers. Sometimes that makes you tighten up, sometimes it makes you play harder. We had a decent night, but I haven't seen what the critics said. DC's a tough town, though that's not to say we aren't building there; we got a rave review from the Washington Post for "Hat Trick."
The highlight of the tour was coming up - Lincoln Center. Hey, when the fat lady sings, this is where she does it. We were at the outside concert area, a beautiful tree-bordered, open air urban concert space. You can look at a deal like this two ways: Either you're the opening act playing before a crowd that's there to hear a legend (Emmylou Harris) and they might not even show up until the headliner comes on. Or, you can look at it as a chance to be the underdog (or what's under the underdog?) and play before a huge crowd of potential fans. There are risks: openers sometimes can't win a crowd no matter what they do. Sometimes they even get sabotaged by the sound, light and stage crews. Not at Lincoln Center, fortunately. The seats were full, even though Emmylou wouldn't be out for a long time, the crew gave us first cabin treatment, including great audio, and the crowd response was off the scale. If opening acts got encores, we would have gotten two or three. (I now think I know how a minor league ball player must feel after getting "called up" to the major leagues and walks down the tunnel out into Yankee Stadium for the first time. I would have been satisfied with not drooling, but instead we had an exceptional night. We could get spoiled like this. Somebody pinch me.
But then, just when you're feeling cocky, there's an empty bar in a deserted New Jersey beach town. No kidding, two nights later (after sponging off another of Kevin's cousins, this time Renee and her husband Cort and their sons) we played to the walls at The Brighton Bar in Long Branch, NJ. Ouch. Two nights after Lincoln Center and you're in Bruce Springsteen territory (seriously, within spitting distance of Asbury Park and at the end of the summer, no less) and you can't draw flies. We played OK. The owner liked us. Who knows, maybe next time.
We had three days to sulk about that before our third appearance at Club Passim in Cambridge (Boston to most of us) Massachusetts. I spent some of it being a tourist. I went to Philadelphia's big art museum. I'm art ignorant, but I enjoy art immensely even though I can't draw a recognizable stick man. I'm hoping that non-musicians enjoy music as much as I enjoy art. If that's so, the potholes in "the road" are all worthwhile for the fans alone. I had never seen a Van Gogh in person. Prints and photos just don't prepare you for the experience. And there were at least a dozen other major artists whose work just slapped me around during a few hours at that museum. Why didn't someone tell me about Cezanne before? (Don't get me started on the arts in public education. Kids now are getting even less that I did. At least I had a couple of art survey courses in college to open my ignorant eyes.)
Anyway, I had this big emotional jumpstart to get me ready for the upcoming Club Passim gig in Cambridge. (I was also reading a new book: "Life in Double Time: The Life and Times of a Professional Drummer" by Mike Lankford. By the way, if you want much more sordid "notes from the road," try this.)
Anyway. Club Passim. This is one of those places where all the big folkies play. We were the least recognizable name on the calendar. Gulp. But I'd give that night's show a 96. Thanks go out to Doug "Golden Ears" Brunnelle, who showed up to do sound (this man knows acoustic/electric folk audio like no one - check out his web site if you want The Bible on acoustic sound reinforcement
You would have thought we were going to a funeral the next night. When they heard we were playing the Towne Crier in Pawling (where?), New York, everyone we met said something to the effect: "Don't feel bad if no one shows up, no one draws on holiday weekends." Well, it turns out the TC is a legend among folk venues. It's just over the state line from Connecticut and everyone, seriously, has played there. The pictures of past performers, that cover the walls of the bar side of the TC, were enough to scare the hell out of me. Let's put it this way, the only name I didn't see was Dylan. Maybe I missed it. There were even big name blues artists up there on the walls staring down at us. To put it short, we drew a respectable crowd (some of whom drove from New York City) that loved the band. Phil, the boss, said we're coming back. (There is life after Lincoln Center and Club Passim.)
That leaves us in good old Minnesota, where we're doing three dates, including: a return engagement at Kieran's Pub in Minneapolis, a return to our all-time favorite music bar (The Blue Moon) in Kasota, MN, and a headline slot at the Rock Bend Music Festival in St. Peter, MN on Saturday
I've got relatives in Minnesota (I lived in St. Paul until I was 16), so I'll be doing some visiting with the aunts, uncles and cousins. We're mooching off Gary's friend, Donnie. Thanks Donnie, sorry about eating all your ice cream...actually,, sorry about eating everything.
Unfortunately, we missed the Minnesota State Fair by just a few hours. When I was kid here the word was it was the largest state fair in the country. All I know is that I loved going to the fair: stock car races, corn dogs, the Cycle Drome (where the daredevil riders rode Harley two-strokes around the vertical walls inside a giant wooden barrel while we watching from a catwalk on top), Thom Thumb Donuts, a room-sized bee hive with glass walls, rides that would make you sick to look at, homemade ice cream, lots of music, thousands of girls who wouldn't talk to me.
A few more days here and I'm going to revert to my childhood accent (did you see "Fargo"?)
...A couple days later...
Well, we played the Blue Moon and it was even crazier than before. The Blue Moon is in Kasota, Minnesota, a town so small event the people who live there sometimes miss the turn. So, what's with a couple hundred people showing up and yelling, drinking and dancing all night to a band from Tucson? Beats me. But this is consistently the wildest crowd we play for (excuse the dangling preposition, or whatever the hell it is, ay?) We thought Bisbee and Jerome, Arizona, would never be surpassed for crowd mania. Forget it. To give you some idea of the scene that's growing here at the Blue Moon: There are fans who drive down from Winnipeg (yup, Manitoba, Canada). Granted, I was disappointed that there weren't any tractors parked outside the Moon this time. But there was a guy dressed up in a chicken suit polka-ing in the second set. Yah boy, we're having some fun now.
On the way down to Kasota from the Twin Cities we stopped at Helmi Strahl Harrington's home, from where she runs Accordion Concertina Music. It's sort of an accordion Mecca. She's the high priestess of the squeezebox, giving lessons, doing repairs, leading accordion ensembles (even playing gigs with the symphony) and running a world-famous accordion repair school. She told me, Gary and Kevin a lot of things we didn't know about our accordions. (Relax, Gary and I don't use ours on stage, though Gary has been practicing relentlessly for the last year and a half.)
...Several hours later...
Well, we've played the festival. It was like an open air Blue Moon...with mosquitos. I thought there was some sort of drum workshop for the rhythm impaired going on, but then I realized it was just the endless slapping of mosquitos.
The Rock Bend River Festival is a lot like the Canadian festivals we've played, but with even more of a community spirit because it's held in such a small town. Like the Canadian festivals, the RBRF has a volunteer staff and features a variety of music - not strictly folk, bluegrass, rock, blues or reggae. I think there was some of each. And, it's free. Sounds like a great late summer vacation.
I've got to fess up to something here. I grew up in Minnesota so this festival felt especially friendly to me. For once I was surrounded by people who thought it was perfectly normal to stand stick still playing the bass. After all, it was clear the Mollys who were leaping around weren't from around here.
There are drawbacks to being a headliner at a festival: You can't load out and relax until last and...a lot of those bands that play first are damned good. Well, we played after the Lost Walleye Orchestra. Laugh, if you like, but this is a band of heavy players - and they sing like birds. Listening to a group like that is a lot of fun, until you realize you have to follow them. But the crowd there had plenty of energy enough saved for us. We wound up doing two sets, unusual for a festival.
Thanks to Ron Arsenault, Dan Stark and everybody at the Blue Moon and the RBRF and, of course, Joyce, Supreme Commander of the Mollys Southern Minnesota fan club. We had a great time staying with Katie, Gus, Joe and Rune out at their place outside of Kasota. (So, did you know that the Empire State building was made out of Kasota Stone, maybe from right outside Katie and Gus' old place.) Thanks to them for putting us up, and to everyone else around here who helped us out and came to hear us play.
Still later...
We've found another Mollys stronghold - Janesville, Wisconsin. The band played a new venue, actually an old high school that is being converted to a performing arts center. The auditorium is the kind of place that isn't built anymore, not in these days of functional, cracker box public buildings. It's great that it will be preserved and used for performances. We had a crowd made up of people who hadn't heard us before, but we're told we'll be back. Hope so.
Stay tuned. We've still got Ann Arbor, Michigan, Philadelphia, Bethlehem, North Carolina, Chicago, and a few stops on the Left Coast. Because of a major laptop failure, I couldn't finish the rest of the Notes from the Road entries until I got home. To see those CLICK HEREP>
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