Shreveport, Louisiana

Halloween night in Louisiana, one would expect an extreme display of local flavor, Cajun, voodoo, all the stereotypes. Maybe in New Orleans, but here in Shreveport, it was a rather calm night, but fun never the less. There were quite a few costumed patrons in the bar for the evening celebrating the holiday and listening to the music. People were friendly and the atmosphere was positive. We played well and were lucky to have people watching the show. We were even treated to free meals on the house, the blackened chicken I had was excellent.

Unfortunately we are not always lucky enough to really check out the towns we play in, Shreveport fell into this category (the photo to the right should illustrate my point). It is a shame when this happens, but when a place as special as New York or New Orleans pops up in the itinerary we usually find a way to spend time being tourists. Shreveport on the other hand did not make the list and our experience in the town was limited to driving off the highway, locating the venue, staying at a house around the corner from the venue, waking up, finding the highway, and leaving. All too often our visits are like this. So I can now say I have been to Shreveport, kind of.

Day Off - New Orleans, LA

After our show in Pensacola we spent most of the following day at Pensacola Beach, a gorgeous white sand beach with impressive surf and only a few touristy bars and restaurants. There was plenty of space to stretch out and avoid the typical beach crowd, which included a lot of teens with open beer cans, apparently perfectly legal in Pensacola Beach. After sleeping, swimming, and walking on the beach we decided to head toward Louisiana, still unsure of exactly where we were heading (our next show was on Monday in Shreveport).

Colin and Gordon (the videographer traveling with us) were a few hours ahead of us and called to report they had gone to New Orleans. Our first reaction was apprehension, followed by excitement and intrigue. We all wanted to go there, after all it is New Orleans, but we also know the state of the city, and were not sure how welcoming it could be to visitors right now. Regardless, we headed in that direction.

When we arrived in the outskirts of New Orleans it was easy to tell how ravaged the area was. The pitch-black night made it even more dramatic as we passed by off ramps with areas of town completely blacked out lit only by an oil drumfire attended by a lone police officer or national guardsman. The closer we got, the more intense the devastation became. Abandoned cars, debris, and block after block of empty homes and businesses.

Colin instructed us to follow the signs to the French Quarter, the most infamous tourist destination in the city, and also an area of town spared by Katrina more than others. Overcome by the visible condition of the city from the highway we missed the exit and went right downtown towards the superdome. I will pause here to say I had my reservations about going to New Orleans in the first place, primarily because I do not wish to gawk at the misery of others. A thousand people died here only weeks ago, I did not feel comfortable being a tourist when the locals are dealing with such tragedy. Anyway, once we got off the superdome exit ramp we witnessed the real destruction; a city that looked like it was hit with a bomb. No Street lights, no windows, no people, no life, no beauty, just complete devastation and the knowledge that this place has experienced extremely hard times. We drove around the debris to find the onramp back towards the French Quarter. Our hearts went out to the folks that had to live through this.

Moments later we were driving into the French Quarter where things looked a little more together, save the refrigerators on the side of the road and the battered buildings. We parked and met Gordon and Colin, and all of a sudden, we were in New Orleans, the city we had envisioned, where the party is constant and the spirit is unstoppable. We walked along Bourbon Street, had a drink, listened to good music, and were generally amazed at the fact that hundreds, maybe thousands, walked the streets with us listening to music and partying. It was almost as if these few blocks were in denial. The fact of the matter was these people were happy to be back, they had just returned to the city days before for the first time since the storm hit.

Now, back to my apprehension of visiting, my feeling as if I’m staring at a car accident or watching a stranger’s funeral. It was gone. It was ridiculous. The people of New Orleans want us there. When people realized we were tourists they were happy and thankful that we came to spend money and enjoy the city they love. It was a pleasant feeling; one I think more people should share. It all makes perfect sense, in a time of need, in this type of society how can we help? Donate money, or if you are one of the few with skills that are needed, donate time, but really just come here, spend money, buy souvenirs, enjoy the city. If we cannot rebuild walls, at least we can help rebuild spirits. A great time and a great lesson learned, I am glad we went.

Pensacola, Florida

We arrived at the club in Pensacola to see a band from Portland, OR was on the bill and playing before us. They had a trailer full of equipment including their own PA and light system. They were called The Listening and were by far the most polished and professional band we have played with all tour. With their own soundman running their gear the sound was perfectly tuned to their material. Their live drum sound was better than anything I have heard in a long while. Although they did not play my type of music, I always deeply respect and appreciate a band that goes through so much effort to nail their sound and performance.

The fun part of the evening was when we got to play through The Listening’s equipment. The sound on stage was as good as it was out in front of the PA. It was a real pleasure to have the opportunity to play through this gear. I believe it was the best we have sounded since I have been playing bass for At the Spine.

Although I was a bit jealous of their professionalism on stage, I lost any feeling of the sort while I watched them load all their equipment out at the end of the night. Their things were laid in a 50-foot circle on the sidewalk and it took them and hour and a half to get the entire job done. And since these guys are not rock stars, they were doing a lot of the work themselves (and I though we had it tough). I guess that is the price you pay for a custom sound.

Jacksonville, Florida

Jacksonville is only an hour away from St. Augustine, so we spent most of the day there and did not arrive until an hour or so before show time. The show was at a venue with fake trees and Halloween decorations strewn throughout a dimly lit bar. The stage was lit from beneath making us appear more like strippers than musicians. The crowd consisted of friendly hipsters, quite a few actually, which made for a nice change. We played well and people seemed to enjoy the music. As a special bonus Spinal Tap was projected on to the back wall of the place, nice. All in all it was a good show and a good night.

The only event of note that I experienced in Jacksonville was when I stopped in at a local BBQ restaurant, which was quite busy and had lots of positive magazine reviews on the wall. I gleefully ordered a rib sandwich with baked beans. When my order was up they handed me something similar to a sandbag in weight and appearance. I was excited, it seemed authentic. When we returned to the club and I unwrapped the sandwich I was shocked; a rack of ribs, on the bone, lay in between three pieces of white bread. I was momentarily dumbfounded on how to begin eating the oddity. If I just bit into it I might lose a tooth on a bone, but that was out of the question anyway because there was no possibility of picking the slop pile up without it melting. Instead, I grabbed a plastic fork and tried to pull meat off the bone through the white bread. This did not work because I could not see where the bones were in the middle of the sandwich; I was a blind man with that bread in the way. I thought that if it had been an open-faced sandwich this direct approach might work, so I removed the top slice of bread and made another attempt. However I quickly found that pulling meat off a rib with a plastic fork is not as easy as it looks. I scrapped this attempt and pulled the ribs out of the sandwich and gnawed on them without the wonder bread. My sandwich was now just an order of ribs. My next discovery was that the BBQ sauce was based almost entirely on mustard. It was a bit peculiar, but did not stop me from gorging for the next 10 minutes.

When I finished my meal, a messy slaughter of a sandwich laid in front of me. I slowly wiped the sauce from my face and arms and pondered why this restaurant was so busy and seemed to have such a good reputation. Could it be that I just do not know how to appreciate Southern BBQ? Maybe the combination of wonder bread and mustard laden BBQ ribs is where the magic lies, and my inability to enjoy both in a single bite is where I failed. I felt a bit inadequate. But maybe, the food just sucked. Anyway, you have been warned about BBQ in downtown Jacksonville.

St. Augustine, Florida

A few hours south of Savannah is the Florida boarder, and ultimately for us on Thursday evening is St. Augustine, the oldest city in North America. Settled by the Spanish in the 1500’s this city has an unmatched historical significance. Many parts of the town are beautiful, especially the historic district which runs along the water. However the historical significance becomes watered down by extremely touristy souvenir shops and overpriced restaurants. It is Florida after all.

Our show in St. Augustine was in a small bar with a Japanese theme. It looked like it was a restaurant at some point, but now was a simple place to drink, play pool, and watch bands. There were a handful of people playing pool in the back of the room when we got on stage. They seemed to enjoy the show and let us know after the set, which is always nice to hear. We had a fun, low-key night. Tomorrow we head to Jacksonville, a larger city with a more substantial music scene; we hope that this will work in our favor on a Friday night.

Savannah, Georgia

We spent most of the day exploring Tybee, a stunning place that is both a beach bum town and a quintessential Southern community. Crab and shrimp dominate the cuisine, and picturesque beaches and marshes the landscape. With only two or three chain restaurants on the island, the general feel is that of a small town. Local businesses keep things moving here year around for the locals but there are more than a few million-dollar homes on the island occupied during vacations only. With Atlanta only a few hours away, it is not surprising.

We spent a few hours at the beach where we boarded, swam, and acted like the pale beach starved Northerns we were. The majority of the people in town avoided the beach on this 65-degree day, but with the water well above that temperature we were happy to get wet. I made the mistake of trying to skim-board, which is essentially tossing a wooden plank on an inch of water washing onto the beach, then jumping on the board and ideally skimming across the sand. I of course fell directly on my back, which was not very smooth and definitely very painful. That was the end of that and the beginning of my boogie boarding, which was more fun anyway.

That evening we headed back into the city of Savannah, a beautiful town capped with Spanish moss covered trees along every street and park. With town squares placed throughout the city, parks and gathering grounds are never far, even if they make for somewhat difficult city driving. Savannah is a beautiful town, but I would rather be in Tybee.

Day Off - Tybee Island, GA

We drove right through Savannah and headed east towards Tybee Island, Georgia, where we met up with Colin’s old friend Steve from Seattle at a place called Huckapoo’s. The spot was perfectly Southern, an authentic watering hole. After two minutes in the place I understood where the cheesy chain restaurants and tourist destinations had found their inspiration. But this place was an original, and every character in the room was vivid and memorable.

We spent a few hours at the place chatting with locals, watching the World Series, and quizzing Steve about what it is really like to live in the South. It sounds fantastic, but not without its problems, the real problems we have been thinking about all week. After a really fun night with good people we are looking forward to exploring the Island tomorrow and learning more.

Day Off - Charleston, SC

With all the days off and nights in hotels and motels the general feel of the trip has gone from a tour to a road trip to a vacation. Two nights in a row of partying in Wilmington has only heightened the mood and we are all anxious to keep discovering new things we like about the South.

So on our way to Savannah, Georgia to stay with one of Colin’s friends we decided to stop at Charleston, a beautiful old city that at one time brought one third of all African slaves through its ports. A fact like that is difficult to comprehend, but seeing two hundred plus year old buildings that lived through the days of buying and selling humans is even more so. The civil war also began here in Charleston, with the famous Fort Sumter in the cross hairs. All these uncomfortable historical facts do not take a thing away from the palm tree lined avenues that make this city one of the most picturesque American cities I have ever visited.

For our evening outing we managed to find a Metal Karaoke night, which at first seemed like it would be a bit of a bust. Since this would also be our third night in a row of listening to cover bands, I was skeptical. Even though the last two bands we saw were incredible, I had to ask myself, could a Metal cover band really be that good? Well, yes. They too were a talented and enthusiastic lot, playing Judas Priest, Queen, and Twisted Sister flawlessly while intoxicated college students and hipsters imitated the 80s front-men and women that will plague popular music for generations to come. Mike and Colin took the stage for "Breaking the Law" and hammed it up in front of the largest crowd they’ve gazed upon this entire tour, they looked like they had a lot of fun, which is a all too common here in the South.

Day Off - Wilmington, NC

After a fun show at the Rusty Nail and a few hours sleep at the local motel, we awoke to the sound of the staff carrying on conversations with each other across the courtyard. It was not the typical breakfast in bed morning we were accustomed to so we were a little crabby. The feeling quickly faded as we made plans to head to Wrightsville Beach for the day, a beautiful spot about 10 miles from downtown Wilmington. At the beach we had a few afternoon margaritas and watched some dolphins play in the waves not 50 feet away from the shore.

After a few hours of this rough and tumble lifestyle we headed downtown for some food. A few beers and a meal later we found ourselves at a joint called Rum Runners. When we first arrived there were only a handful of folks in the bar and two empty grand pianos in the center of a long television light room. Within an hour, the place filled up and three fellas took to the pianos. They started things off slow singing well-known covers and hamming it up with campy, frequently dirty humor. But when things warmed up the crowd lined their request sheets across the piano tops and the musicians got louder, funnier, and dirtier. Everyone was laughing, singing, and having a great time proving for the second day in a row, a Sunday of all days, that in the South people really know how to party. Chris once again took to the stage and played some drums with the group, it was a riot, and may be Chris’ true calling. When one of the guys jumped on top of the piano and played the fiddle, we all realized this was a golden moment, these guys were fantastic musicians whom put on one of the best shows I have ever seen, I am completely serious about that. I am not really doing the night justice with my description, so I will just say the South is growing on me.

Wilmington, North Carolina

People know how to have a good time in the South; at least on the surface, and in Wilmington, a historical town, and a beautiful beach destination, the surface is all we saw. The show was a great time. The band playing before us performed covers flawlessly and creatively. Our drummer sat in with them and we all cheered him on and drank with the locals. It was good night, good fun.

On a different note, when visiting Wilmington, and the entire South for that matter, us Yankees have some pretty serious stereotypes to overcome. Although we are confronted with the same problems in the North, in places like Toledo, Ohio, and Northern Idaho, it is the South that has such an obvious scar. It is the south after all that would not give up when push came to shove. It is easy to point fingers, but most of us know now that slavery was a problem throughout the entire country and that only in the South was it so strongly bonded to the economic success of the region that they could not give up on their grand mistake. It is important for me to write this because these were the thoughts running through my mind as we arrived in Wilmington, a true Southern town.

In actuality, when we pulled into the club, the friendliness was overwhelming. Southern hospitality is a real thing; people are warm and fun to be around. Another fact hard to dismiss was that in Wilmington we saw some of the most integrated nightspots we have been to all tour, more so than Chicago, New York, or liberal Seattle. People are living together and partying together. Maybe there is something to take away from this; maybe it is just a schema adjustment on my part, which is why I love traveling so much to begin with. But I think it is more, I think us folks in Northern liberal and so-called cultured cities tend to be a bit pretentious and quick to judge. So few of us actually travel this country and understand the hearts of our brothers and sisters. Sometimes there are some pleasant surprises to be found, and important lessons to learn.

Washington, D.C.

To visit D.C. is to witness the stark difference between the haves and the have-nots. Government buildings downtown host corrupt bureaucrats running the country on behalf of the lobbyists and corporations that can afford them. While poor surrounding neighborhoods host liquor stores where bulletproof glass stands between customers and cashiers. It is hard to believe this city welcomes so many tourists celebrating equity when inequity is much easier to find. Only in our nation’s capital can one see a huge monument devoted to a rich guy that owned slaves, then drive ten minutes down the road to see the impact of the decisions those same forefathers avoided making.

I am sure this contrast, tension, and energy have helped to create one of the most prolific independent music scenes in the country, one driven by Dischord records and the visionaries that are its lifeblood. I for one was excited to come to town, possibly catch a glimpse of the legendary music scene in the works, and get a feel for this complex place. Instead, we played at a venue that seemed to host more dancehall events than punk rock. Only a handful of folks came by to checkout the show and as soon as we were done the place then began to fill up with patrons ready to dance to some sweet grooves. They seemed glad our evening was over and theirs was beginning. We had fun, we usually find a way to, but sometimes it is difficult.

College Park, Maryland

We arrived in the College Park area, still sobering up from the whole New York experience, to find ourselves stuck in a steady stream of cars heading towards the University of Maryland where the venue was located. Apparently a huge football game was scheduled which made traffic rather messy. We eventually made our way to the venue, a cozy coffee shop, and quickly realized it would not be a suitable place to rock out, especially with students studying for midterms throughout the joint. For this reason, Colin and Mike played acoustic sets and I took the night off. Chris was in Pennsylvania visiting with his family and will meet us in DC tomorrow.

The performances were good, but the evening was mostly nice because the coffee shop is in the ground floor of a house with couches and comfortable places to relax. We felt like we were hanging out in someone’s living room, so although the show was not ideal, it made for a nice transition back into the rhythm of touring after spending so much time in New York.

New York, New York - Day 3

So we played a battle of the bands. All we knew leading up to the event was that it was called Meany Fest and that we had a quick 30-minute slot to play in. As usual we did not know what to expect and just hoped for the best.

We took the stage after a band all the way from Milan, Italy that played very polished radio rock. They were good performers and seemed to have fun playing. Even though their style was worlds apart from ours, they were a tough group of musicians to follow.

Luckily the show was over early which gave Jenny and I some time to walk around the village and enjoy the evening. We turned in early to prepare for a morning trip to the Brooklyn Bridge to catch the sunrise and shoot photos. I can only speak for myself, but I am going to be very sorry to leave New York tomorrow.

New York, New York - Day 2

Five years ago I lived across the street from North Six, the club we played at this evening. Although I was only at the place for three or four months, maybe less, I have some vivid memories of the neighborhood. Jenny and I walked the streets and I pointed out what I remembered and what had changed. We went to the riverbank and looked at Manhattan as it lit up the sky, and we talked about what it might be like to live there now. You never know.

Back at the show we played our set in front of huge fish tanks to a room half full of lounging band members. We were lucky to play with Nervous Cabaret, a band from the area that defined their set with gruff vocals and a horn section. Energy and creativity will make them a memorable band.

At this point I can say I’m feeling a bit pampered spending my nights in a hotel and my days visiting family and hanging with Jenny. It is almost as if tour has ended and I will be beginning a new one again on Thursday. I guess that’s another way of saying this is as close as I have felt to home in a month.

New York, New York - Day 1

We played at Lit in the Lower East Side, in a basement bar. The dark interior, the low ceiling, and the mean bar tenders let us know we were indeed in New York City. Though we were all excited to be there, we were all a little unsure of what to expect of the series of shows we were about to kick off. When we began to play to a small crowd which included my parents, sister, her fiancé, my girlfriend Jenny from Seattle, and friends and family of the other guys, I all at once became aware of how long it has been since I’ve been in New York and how little that mattered. It has not changed.

The show went off extremely well; in fact I think it was the best we have played since the beginning of the tour. Maybe it was that I was happy to have loved ones there, but it was also because we had two days off in a row and a much-needed break from playing.

Later that night Jenny and I turned in but Mike, Colin and Chris went out. Somehow, Chris ran into Lou Reed, or at least he said he did. At approximately 3AM somewhere in Brooklyn, Chris was writing some drunken drivel at a bar when Lou allegedly approaches him and takes a look. After reading what Chris had written he says something like, “you need to read more man.” I never liked Velvet Underground, but he was probably right in this case. Chris swears by this event, but we are not yet convinced.

Bound Brook, New Jersey

One word: Bust.

Day Off - New York, New York

We were hoping to fill the 15th, an empty date, with a show somewhere between Nashua and Bound Brook, but we had no luck. Rather than twiddle our thumbs in New Hampshire we decided to make the drive down to New York City and visit friends and family. It was nice to have the evening off which I spent with my sister Terri and Fiancé Brian. We ate good food, caught up and relaxed.

It was also a nice change of environment, one that helped me realize how out of touch with reality I have become. When you sit in a van with four other guys for hours on end, the sense of humor veers off the intellectual track and lands somewhere in the gutter. Learning to curb this sensibility in public, around people acclimated to reality, is a challenge. When visiting my sister, I had to repeat "you are not in the van" to myself a few times before blurting junk out of my mouth. I fear things will only be worse by November.

Nashua, New Hampshire

Friday we head to Nashua, North Hampshire where it has been raining for a week. Some areas of the state have experienced flooding from the intense downpour all week. It is just plain wet everywhere and I don’t think any of us have been able to stay dry since we arrived in New England.

The small city of Nashua was ranked the number one place to live in America by Money magazine in 1990. Although Nashua lacks the obvious cultural marks of some of my favorite destinations on this trip, it does seem like a nice enough place to live if you have semi traditional values, I would pass.

Unfortunately the headlining local band never showed up which left us without much of a crowd at the venue. We assumed the hard rains had something to do with the no show, but then again we seemed to make it in one piece so one has to wonder. It is a let down when the local cancels, which has been happening more often than we would like on this trip. Hopefully, things will pick up as we head down to the New York City area for the next few days.

Boston, Massachusetts

I grew up within a three-hour drive of Boston until the age of 15 but only managed to visit the area a handful of times. So it is not surprising that my memories of the town are generally inaccurate. I have been hoping to visit the town again for sometime and correct my assumptions.

During our visit, we spent time wandering the streets of South Boston, Beacon Hill, and Cambridge and tested the environment against the schemas built up in our heads. Movies, stories, and brief childhood visits really do not do the town justice, but they never do.

The richest experiences of visiting a town with such character is meeting and talking to people that make the city what it is. From the staff at the club, to the guys we bought pizza from, to the other bands sharing the bill, Bostonians are a special breed.

The 13th of October also marks our fourth week on the road and our first sighting of the Atlantic Ocean. In many ways reaching Boston is the apex of the trip and from here on out we will be over the hump and gradually heading back west.

Syracuse, New York

Syracuse is about as close to my hometown area of Buffalo, New York as I will be on this tour. Unfortunately Syracuse is about three hours away from Buffalo, and a tight schedule left me without any time to stop by and catch up with friends. So it was a little disappointing to drive right past Buffalo, but what can you do?

Once we hit Syracuse, the rain was already pouring, the Northeast has been hit with a storm that will make for a wet next few days. The cold and rain reminded us of Seattle’s winter weather, which I will take over a Syracuse winter any day.

We played in Syracuse’s little Italy, which is very little, basically a block or two dotted with Italian restaurants and bars. It is currently undergoing some kind of revitalization or transformation, but to be honest it just reminded me of all the other indistinguishable postindustrial upstate New York towns I am familiar with. The show was fun, and we had a good group of folks watching our set.

On another note, whenever possible, we fuel up at Citgo, which is supplied by Hugo Chavez’s liberal government and which recently announced it will provide cheap oil to poor Chicagoans. It seems that at least in this case a so-called communist government cares more about American people getting ripped off than our own government, go figure.

Cleveland, Ohio

On the drive into Cleveland I was kind of excited. We were set to play at Pat’s in the Flats, which I assumed was in the Flats, an area of Cleveland bustling with nightlife. Since we had just left Grand Rapids, I was ready for a change of pace and looking forward to spending the evening in the Flats. Unfortunately, Pat’s was across the water from the Flats where all the nightlife was and was smack dab in the middle of a different kind of action; an asphalt plant. Heavy truck traffic pulling in an out of the plant carried a strong odor throughout the area and our van. On the bright side this brought to life Cleveland’s special character, and reminded me why the city was once dubbed "The Mistake on the Lake" after the extremely polluted lake caught fire in the 70s.

Pat’s actually ended up being an interesting venue. With the doors open for 60 years, and newspaper clippings from the end of World War II still on the wall, it was hard not to appreciate the history the place had. Often the venues are all we will really see of a city aside from the skyline, so it makes the visit more rewarding to be somewhere that reflects the character and history of the area. Pat’s did this for me.

My personal highlight of the show was watching the Canadian ska outfit, The Delegates, play some Bostones inspired ska rock and liven up the place. They were tight musicians, and woke up the crowd.

Grand Rapids, Michigan

A few hours west of Detroit sits Grand Rapids, a small city that does not seem as rough around the edges as Detroit, but is not completely devoid of the same problems either.

We played with a few scremo bands including one from New Jersey that struck poses like rock stars and generally ignored the fact that they were playing for six people. It was nice to see such enthusiasm even if it was not my type of thing.

Detroit, Michigan

Detroit is a music town. From Motown to the White Stripes the town has maintained quite a reputation over the years. Detroit also has a reputation for being a rough city, and although DC, Atlanta, and Newark all trump the Motor City in crime rates, it is a visibly intimidating town.

We played at The Painted Lady, a small bar on the bottom floor of a duplex in a residential block of a polish neighborhood. A good group of people were hanging out at the bar and ready to hear music. The show went well and people generally paid attention and made us feel welcome.

Once the bands wrapped things up the crowd started getting rowdy. These people were partying hard for a Sunday night, and kept it that way until we shut the bar down at 2am. Thankfully Mike’s family was putting us up so we headed back there and crashed for the night.

Dayton, Ohio

In Dayton, we played at one of the largest venues I’ve ever seen, which for a band our size is usually a recipe for disaster. Only a handful of people gathered around the stage to watch our set and with the back of the room nearly 100 yards away it was anything but intimate. Regardless, it was a relatively painless experience, and we played fairly well, so we were happy.

After the show we made for the highway and stayed at a hotel, which is usually out of the question, but since we had no place else to go, and we were tired, it just happened. It was a good night’s rest for everyone and we woke feeling refreshed and ready to eat more junk food, which in Ohio lead us to Waffle House. I will not go into detail on our experience there but I will warn you against ever venturing into this place unless you have a hankering for heart burn.

Quincy, Michigan

For a town of roughly 400 people, the turnout at Quincy surprised us. A few dozen kids showed up at a pretty amazing all ages venue to hear some music and support their local scene. There was a good amount of energy and activity at the show, and although we were not the most anticipated act of the evening, people listened and seemed to enjoy our small contribution.

After the show the club owner took us next-door to a small bar where the locals were singing karaoke. People were taking things pretty seriously, which really isn’t uncommon for a karaoke scene. Country music seemed to dominant so Colin sang a Barry Manilow song for a change of pace. He really hammed it up, which seemed to offend the locals a little, but had us rolling.

Our short visit to Quincy was enlightening. Quincy is small town America. It is a place that seems completely generic but of course is anything but. Talking with the club owner we learned about the town’s own brand of local politics, racism, and economics. The discussion reminded me that people are people, whether they are in Seattle, Chicago, or Quincy, the same patterns seem to appear everywhere. The same trouble, and in many ways the same beauty, can take place anywhere.

Mishawaka, Indiana

Every night we arrive in a new destination to play music, and usually we know no one, so we rarely have arrangements to stay somewhere ahead of time. Since hotels are mostly out of the question, we ask around at the shows for a place to crash. Whether we stay on someone’s floor, in their garage, or even in their backyard, it is always a shot in the dark as to whether it will be comfortable and clean. For this reason, we are always grateful, and lucky to find a decent individual that takes us in, makes us feel at home, and allows us to recharge. In Mishawaka, that was Nicohle, the show promoter and manager of the art space we played at named Studio 315. She was nice enough to let us sleep in, relax, and watch The Beatles Anthology DVDs without having to feel uncomfortable or rushed. It was time to recharge that we all really needed.

The show at Studio 315 was fun, and a nice change from the smoky bar scene. With space to create art, play music, and lounge around, the environment they have created at Studio 315 is a rare find, a place to be creative and kick back. We will leave Mishawaka refreshed and ready to take on the next challenge.

Lafayette, Indiana

When contemplating what makes a blog or online journal interesting, for me the conclusion is simple, it has to be honest and real. This is easy to accomplish when things are rosy, but when things get sour it is harder to do.

So the hard truth is that we had another bomb show. We arrived in Lafayette, Indiana, home to Purdue University, to find that the coffee shop that had booked us did no promotion and was basically an unsuitable venue for us to play in. The owners told us it did not matter whether we played or not so we didn’t. Instead we went to an open mic down the street where we tried to pull together a decent 20-minute set for a group of people drinking and playing pool. It wasn’t our best performance. Our visit to Lafayette was not ideal, but we did try to make the best of it by playing somewhere, so in that regard we were successful and did not give up.

However, another day like this will raise more questions about our booking agent, the cost of driving to shows where there is no promotion or guarantee, and whether we can financially keep this up. We need a couple of good dates to build up some moral, momentum, and money, and I hope those dates come soon.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

In Milwaukee we played at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee’s campus in the Student Union coffee shop. There were about a dozen folks around when we played including The Evil Queens, a band from Ohio that joined us on the bill and rocked a powerful set despite the low-key atmosphere. Nice guys that I hope we get a chance to play with again sometime.

Unfortunately we didn’t have a lot of time to check out Milwaukee, we did however have an opportunity to go back to Chicago and have some more hot dogs and pizza for lunch. During our greasy meal, the second day straight of hot dogs and pizza, I realized we had descended into the abyss of a true junk food diet, the kind of diet that killed Jerry Garcia, the kind of diet that makes truckers the beacon of self preservation. None of us are eager to follow in his Jerry’s footsteps, and since our tour is only nine weeks, not 30 years, we will probably won't have to.

Chicago, Illinois

Chicago is an amazing place, a town that forces one to ride the wave or drown. We were lucky that Mike has a good friend living in Wicker Park that took us in for the night, played tour guide, and made the visit easy on us. We were able to see the Art Institute of Chicago for an hour and check out the skyline from within. Just being on the streets in Chicago is an experience, and we meandered like tourists for a while just coming to terms with the immensity of the whole thing. Although I lived in New York for a few years, I have been in Seattle for almost five, and Seattle is a cow town compared to the windy city. It was great to be there for the day and be reminded of what a major city feels like.

The show did have a local band that drew a handful of spectators, but they were a jam band, which is basically a world apart from our style. Considering Chicago has such a powerful Indy music scene, it was hard not to feel like we missed an opportunity to reach some new fans that might actually like Mike’s music. Regardless, I’m grateful we were able to play here, and play at all for that matter.

Oh, and I had my first Chicago style hot dog. Two actually. Vienna beef dogs topped with tomato, peppers, and a pickle spear. I can now die and go to heaven, or wherever I’m going. No wait, I have to get pizza in New York first, and then I can die. Next up, Milwaukee, home of America’s finest watery beer. Cheers.

Madison, Wisconsin

I wish I could say that we had an "official" day off in Madison, a city we were all anxious to visit. The truth of the matter is not a single person came to the show and we were politely asked to not play. It is not so much embarrassing, or even depressing; it is just a heavy dose of reality. Playing with a small, virtually unknown band, and traveling around the country, is just tough.

For this band, at this time, on this tour, a successful show is dependent on a few things. First, the show should be promoted. Fliers and ads should be around town. Second, we should fit the venue; we probably won’t go over very well at a country music bar. Third, and this is the most important, we should be playing with a local band or a band that has a local draw. In Madison, we fit the venue, but promotion was light and the local band cancelled. In the end we were lucky to have arrived at a venue where the bartender and sound man we friendly and helpful. We found a place to stay regardless, and hung out in the wood paneled basement bar for a few hours before calling it a night.

The city of Madison is beautiful. The capital building towers above the surrounding city center, which is an ironic testament to democracy. Apparently, the building codes limit the height of the downtown core to remain lower than the capital building. Madison is home to the University of Wisconsin, a huge school where students are more likely to commute via bicycle than automobile. The pedestrian only strip next to the campus is wrought with euro style sensibilities. Outdoor café seating, bars, and eclectic eats had me wishing we could spend the day exploring, but time is limited and we are heading to Chicago.

Fargo, North Dakota

Fargo is more cosmopolitan than I would have thought. The main drag is lined with classy restaurants and bars, none of which we visited, but which surprised me all the same. It must get tiresome living in a place where misconception, in no small part due to the Coen brother’s film entitled Fargo, plays a role in shaping the reputation of the place you call home.

The activity of Fargo was somewhat surprising, but the show we were booked on was the true surprise for the evening. We took the stage after two local metal bands, not necessary a fitting bill, but the bands were good and the people at the venue were friendly. At the Spine won the adoration of at least two new fans, two severely intoxicated women requesting something "old" be played. This induced flash backs of playing covers in Seattle. These feelings were further fueled by Mike’s improvised version of Nugent’s "Cat Scratch Fever" that had something to do with hating Nugent instead of cats. Fargo.