The damned thing was a success, that much I can assure you. We came home with a little more money than we left with, as well as a much fatter mailing list, sold out of "Hat Trick" CDs and I didn't choke one sound engineer (though it was damned close); and, in balance, there were more who did a fine job and whom I look forward to seeing out there on the board again.
We kicked off the tour with what I call the Texas Swing, a week long tour of Texas.
Instead of arriving just in time for the first gig, we got to Austin early and did John Ailee's show at KUT-FM (yes, in the same building as "Austin City Limits," but despite hanging around looking available nobody asked us to fill in on that show. Next time I guess we'll have to send out an operative to pull the drain plug on some big shot's Eagle tour bus a couple hundred miles outside of town. Sorry, Rodney Crowell couldn't make it, his bus is up on blocks in Widespot, Texas, for a couple days." But the Mollys are here. Sure.)
Anyway, the erudite Ailee was charming and sharp as ever, letting us play and commenting knowledgably on the hodgepodge of musical styles we ransack to make up our repertoire. This time he read the definition of rhumba after we did "Cash for Gold" (from the soon-to-be-released album.) He's always a breath of brilliance after some of the "What's your favorite color?" interviews.
That night, we went back to the Cactus Cafe ("Wow," you're supposed to say, "that's a prestigious place") in Austin. We pretty well filled the place. Had a great night. Got to hang with our new booking agency folks, Nancy Fly and Seymour Guenther of the Nancy Fly Agency in Austin. Good thing we didn't suck that night. We whipped out some of the new material from the as-yet-unreleased album that we recorded in December. It went over well. Already, the arrangements are evolving. It's the usual deal: I wish we could go back in and record it again because the material is better already. Saw a bunch of old acquaintances and made some new ones at the Cactus.
The next night, it was a little unannounced gig over at a new Austin Irish-style pub, Fado. We played on an outdoor stage facing toward the street, but the big barn doors on the side were open so we were getting the crowd inside, too. The folks outside were drinking a little more vigorously in an effort to stay warm and, in turn, were a bit more boisterous. Hell yes. We encourage that kind of thing. It worked out well, and that's not always a sure deal at a pub because too often pubs attract a crowd that wants to hear what I call "Green Beer Music" - the damned "Leprachaun Song" and "Danny Boy." Not that I would play either one, but the irritation would be enough to make me hurl. It didn't happen at Fado anyway. False alarm.
From there it was back up to Dallas and the Tipperary Inn. The Tip is a strange place, in that it doesn't seem like you're in Texas at all. The crowd, as one Irish patron once told me, "is more Irish than the Irish." See, I don't see us as an Irish band. I'm certainly not Irish (Danish and German, and only a couple generations off the boat, in some cases). But at the Tiperrary we dust off some of the Irish covers that the band used to do back when it was Nancy, Catherine and I and a bunch of other players just plugging around Tucson. These days, we're as much Tex-Mex as Irish, at least in terms of musical influences. But, at the Tipperary, everyone's Irish. Nobody was checking the pedigrees on the songs. We started off green but ended doing the same sorts of material we do normally these days. I think that shows better than any musicology lecture the connection between different forms of ethnic folk music. Those jigs and reels run right into the blue grass, and with a slight meter change, the German-Tex-Mex polkas.
It was on to The Mucky Duck in Houston, a really classy place. Like I've said before, if anyone wants to know how to run a showcase club, skip college and just do what Rusty and Theresa do at The Duck. They treat the customers and the bands right. In turn, the music is great and the crowds are knocking the doors down. We got kind of revved up there. It was a homecoming, our fourth gig in a place that had us worried the first time we were there. We were unknown in Houston a couple years ago and didn't know if we'd draw flies. Now, it's a special event.
Throughout these early gig, Catherine was struggling with her latest vice - the violin. It is the toughest instrument to learn. Basically, it sounds like a bunch of cats being murdered for a couple years and then, if you've really worked hard, it sounds OK but makes you think it's going to turn to crap at any second. It's sheer terror. But she's hung with the thing for a couple years and is wrestling it under control. She squeezed a credible solo out of it on "Moon Over the Interstate" during this tour, getting better every night.
San Antonio was a first for us. We played a college-style bar downtown near River Walk, a place called O'Neill's. We had a wild crowd, made up of a few die hards who had been driving all the way to Austin to hear us for a couple years and who had brought their friends with them. We got discovered by San Antonio that night, made some new friends and raised a little hell. Let's put it this way, I was the designated driver on the trip back to the bunkhouse (Kevin's cousin Larry and his wife, Janet's, house) back in Austin that night. Apparently, the devil resides in San Antonio.
Larry and Janet have been putting us up (and putting up with us) for a couple years of Austin visits. Thanks isn't nearly enough.
The band wound up the Texas leg of the tour with a show at Copperas Cove, up near Killeen 100 miles northwest of Austin. We played there once before and had a great time. This is a strange one. Les, the promoter, puts the shows on in a big Knights of Columbus Hall. (As a recovering Catholic, ex-parochial school kid, I half expect to get struck by lightning there while drinking beer and playing music). Anyway, we packed the place and had a good time, like last time. The gig is a lot like a small town barn dance, except they don't dance much. That could change. There's talk about making more dancing room. We played. They fed us and sent us off with meals to go for the road. I swear, this is a whole lot like going to a family reunion in farm country. They did everything but show the embarrassing childhood photos. We loved it.
I grabbed a frequent flyer ticket and headed home for a couple days while the rest of the band went up to Kansas to hang out for a couple days before the tour resumed in Rockford, Ill.
I flew into O'Hare, took a bus to Rockford and hooked up with the rest of the band for sound check at the Mendelssohn Club. Strange name. Stranger place. It's a beautiful hall that was founded by a group of Rockford women who were classical piano players and fans. They let us play there anyway. Great acoustics and a delightful, though reserved, bunch of new fans. It was a first time visit and I'm not sure they knew exactly what they were getting. We may have been the rowdiest thing to happen in that room in a long time. But, things got off to a good start. I walked in with my basses, checking the place out. What do I see and hear but a 10-yeaer-old kid on stage beating "Minnie the Moocher" out of a seven-foot Steinway concert grand. I think we'll be back. They may not have known what they were getting but the crowd seemed to be happy with what they got.
Next, the Big City, Chicago. We went back to The Abbey Pub. This time, we packed the place and tipped the scales. Last time we had a good show, but the crowd wasn't big enough to pack the place so they did the old junior high school dance number and moved to the back. That kind of puts a damper on interaction with the crowd. This time, we were nose-to-nose and it was a lot more spirited on both sides of lights.
The next night was a low-tension date on the tour. We had a great night at Cedar Rapids, Iowa, last time and knew we'd have a loyal and enthusiastic crowd waiting for us. We just didn't know how loyal, enthusiastic and large. It was a sold-out show. Not band for a band without a label deal and a thousand miles from home. Being from Minnesota, (my Dad was a pro musician when we lived up in the Twin Cities) I knew that the Midwest was a music hot bed. But, Iowa? I'd been hearing that there was actually an "Iowa Scene." Even those that told me about it thought it was funny. Back when I was a reporter, I covered a presidential primary campaign up there; I discovered that they could party vigorously, but I didn't hear any music - except for a couple candidates whistling "Hail to the Chief." But a music scene? Yup, they've got Greg Brown and Bo Ramsey, as well as a bunch of other up and coming acts. You should see the people they get coming through CSPS, the place we played in Cedar Rapids. Cool place.
So, we were on a roll. Being suspicious, a little pessimistic when things look TOO good, I figured something had to bust. Hell, even the weather had been warm, so far. But we went back to the craziest little blues bar in the Midwest, The Blue Moon in Kasota (where?), Minn., and packed it for two nights. Had a helluva time, ya you betcha. Thanks to Dan Stark and the crew at the Blue Moon, Ron Arsenault (a great musician and friend of the Mollys), Joyce (I'm Irish, Yeah You Betcha) and Sandy Scott who spoiled us rotten for four days.
2/24 MN Kasota The Blue Moon 2/26 MN Kasota The Blue Moon 2/27 MN Minneapolis The Cedar Cultural Center 2/28 IA Ames The Maintenance Shop And, the really big news doesn't all happen on the road. We're going to get to play with Los Lobos, my all-time favorite band right here in Tucson. We're opening for them at a fund raiser for community station KXCI at the venerable Rialto Theater in what passes for downtown in Tucson. Lincoln Center didn't bother me. The Bottom Line didn't bother me. The big folk festivals didn't bother me. I'm invisible behind that big, black four-string. But, I really don't want to suck playing in the same barn with these guys. We'll see.