At the Spine Tour Journal

Seattle, Washington

After a day of rest at home, I headed over to the infamous Sunset Tavern in Ballard where we would be playing with Alta May and The Valley, two great rock bands from the Seattle area. These guys tore up the stage before we were lucky enough to do our thing one last time. We played our exhausted hearts out and did pretty well.

During our set it occurred to me that I have been down this road before, playing a final show with a band and realizing this moment means more to us than anyone watching us. Realizing that we have been very much alive for the last 66 days, taking in every detail of every moment in a million other places so that every note we play is newly inspired with the things we have seen, done, and felt. Did they notice the difference? Is there a difference? It is impossible to remove yourself from the equation, but I would have to say there indeed was a difference. We may not have been tighter as a band, but I do believe that in the last 66 days each of us has been challenged in our purpose, and we have answered that challenge with a simple statement. Music is important. It is worth travelling 12,000 miles to play indie music every day and prove to ourselves and anyone who cares to listen, that music is for everyone, it is powerful, it is real, and it is one of the only true cultural expressions of our time that is celebrated by all walks of life.

I for one am proud and grateful I was able to go on this trip, thanks to Mike, Chris, Colin, and Gordon for making the tour worth it. Anyone that has read this regularly, or not so regularly, thank you for finding the time, I hope you have enjoyed it.

Portland, Oregon

We rose early and headed out of Corvallis toward Portland where we would be recording at Haywire Studies with Rob, the gentleman that booked the tour for us. The studio is in Rob’s basement, a cavernous series of small recording rooms and one basic control room. We spent most of the afternoon and evening tracking four songs which Mike will lay vocals over at a later date. We played our best and felt good with what we recorded considering we had only an afternoon to get it all done.

After we wrapped up with recording we headed over to the venue in downtown Portland where we would be playing with We’re From Japan, an excellent Portland band kind enough to fit us on the bill with them. We had played with these fellas the first night of our tour in Spokane, which seems like ages ago, it was nice to hear these guys play again.

This show marked Colin’s last performance of the tour, and since he is now calling Portland home, Chris, Gordon, and I said our good-byes after the show (our dolphin brother shall be missed.) We left Mike behind for one last night away as we flew up I-5 eager to return to our loved ones early the next day. It is sad to see things come to a close, but a break from the rigors of the road will be welcomed. One more date tomorrow before we can truly recuperate.

Eugene, Oregon

Eugene is a quintessential liberal Northwest college town. With eclectic restaurants, stylish bars, and progressive thinking the city is sophisticated while maintaining the appeal of a small town. Although we were only in the area for a few hours, my first impressions were that this town is as interesting and unique as Lawrence, Kansas or Madison, Wisconsin, two of my favorite discoveries on this trip. It was strange being here for the first time considering I have lived only a few hours away in Seattle for about five years. I will need to come back and see more.

At the show we played with a great local band and an interesting touring band out of Boston named Junius whom is currently in the midst of their own tour right now. The looks on these guy’s faces reminded me of what it was like to be across the country, far from home, in the middle of a tour. This look isn’t bad, just unfamiliarly nomadic and maybe just a little tired.

After the show we abruptly left town heading towards Corvallis, where Colin’s girlfriend was kind enough to provide us with floor space. One more day before we hit Seattle, it is hard to believe the trip is coming to a close.

Medford, Oregon

We are back in the Northwest, in location, in weather, and in spirit. It is a difficult transition to make considering we have spent the last month or more in the Southern half of the country swimming at sunny beaches, wearing shorts and squinting in the sun. The change in climate begs that this question be asked, why do I live up here? Well I have some good answers, but that will come in another post.

We spent the day driving North through the Redwoods in Humboldt County and up to Eureka before committing our intentions to crossing the Oregon border. While driving through the dense forests of Northern California it finally occurred to me how large the state of California is, and how many climates, cultures, and attitudes the state encompasses. For someone originally from the east coast, this realization was fairly new, and although I’ve always had an idea of the immense size and character California projects, I have never truly grasped it. This finally occurred after my third trip up the coast, I hope it is not my last.

In Medford, the cold reached down into freezing temperatures, I could see my breath; it made me want to hibernate. The show took place in a roller rink. It was empty, and sad, but the manager was an excellent guy whom made us feel welcome. The show ended fairly early, and we headed to a Motel for some rest and cheap beer.

Day Off – Northern California

We spent the afternoon in Berkeley with Meliss, where we recovered from the previous night’s debauchery before slowly making our way towards San Francisco. It was late in the day when we finally made it across the Bay Bridge, so we really only drove around the city for an hour or so before making our way across the Golden Gate bridge to soak in the sunset and take photos.

Once we were on the other side of the bridge, we kind of figured heading north would make the most sense, so we kept going. A few hours later we were climbing up the coast on highway 101 and by the time night fell and the small towns grew further apart we had resolved to find a campsite where we could make the day end.

About 20 miles north of Fort Bragg we found a site where I laid outside peering through the treetops at the bright moon. It was a beautiful place to fall asleep. It was a damn cold place to wake up a few hours later. I spent most of the night into the morning contorting my body in different ways attempting to preserve the small amount of heat my $15 sleeping bag could manage to hold onto. I am not an outdoorsman and I know close to nothing about camping, so although this experience was a fun adventure, it did confirm my general preference for cheap motels over campsites.

Oakland, California

The bay area hosts one of the most amazing cities in the country, San Francisco, but we were playing in Oakland, one of California’s armpits. So be it. In Oakland we arrived at a coffee shop slash restaurant with a small patio in back for smokers and a small room off to the side where we would set up and play. On the odd yellowish walls of this room hung cryptic artwork depicting cartoonish figures with Buffalo, I did not catch the meaning, but enjoyed the work regardless. The artwork and the brightly colored walls may have been perfectly suited for a child’s nursery, but instead we would fill this room with noise and clean out the caffeinated ears of the small crowd. The show somehow happened in this odd space and I believe we made it through the performance relatively unscathed.

After a few more cups of coffee than I needed, an old friend Meliss, took us over to her neck of the woods in Berkeley. We spent a few hours at a bar in the area abusing our livers and playing darts. Outlasting the bar, we moved to the street, where we spent several more hours hanging with Meliss and avoiding the end of the night. Meliss and her boyfriend Shawn were kind enough to let us all crash on their floor when the night finally did end.

Los Angeles, California

Written by Panama Red Potter

I once read in a magazine that Leonard Cohen resides in an unfashionable part of LA. No explanation, no town, community, address, or street, just the apparently self-evident adjective “unfashionable.” As much as it obscures, I also found this description wonderfully adequate to describe the contrasts that demarcate the Los Angeles area.

Today we drove up the LA coastline from Laguna Beach all the way to Santa Monica. And though we only drove 100 miles it seemed like we spent seven hours in the car. The LA experience par excellence. On our drive we saw it all, quaint trendy beach apartments in Newport that rent for $6,000 a month, to the dilapidated urban sprawl marked by Taquerias and CompUSA computer stores, back again through Beverly Hills on the curviest road I know, Sunset Boulevard. We ended the daylight hours on Venice Beach where we happened upon a gorgeous sunset and one of the most organic, and cosmopolitan drum circles I have seen comprised of drummers, dancers, and onlookers of all creeds, colors, and fashion.

After dark we decided to make our way over to Glendale, California, which is north central LA just south of Burbank. Somewhere out on West Colorado Blvd in Glendale I found the best little Taqueria on the planet. So good in fact that I ate 6 carne asada tacos and enjoyed every morsel to the last bite, this despite having eaten nothing but Mexican food for nearly two solid weeks.

After a satisfying meal we made our way to “The Scene bar” where there didn’t seem to be any scene at all, just a handful of regulars and a gaggle of stand up comedians who preceded our show. The comedians quickly proceeded to exit the bar as soon as their acts were over and the band began to setup and tune their instruments. Oh well I guess I understand. The place smelled like a toilet and I guess they were glad to exit the scene after yucking it up in front of a throng of 9 people.

After the show I walked outside and slowly loaded my camera equipment into my car. I think I started to understand what it meant to be unfashionable and where it was located. I imagined that Leonard Cohen quite possibly lived just around the corner and was just at that moment sipping on an excellent martini reminiscing on all the great sex he had at the Chelsea hotel.

Day Off - Encinitas, California

We were up until 6 AM so we basically slept the entire day away at Chris’ Aunt’s Boyfriend’s place in Encinitas. Many thanks to Andy for putting us up, and putting up with us. Although we didn’t crawl out of our sleeping bags until 3 PM, we were still wiped out and could only muster up enough energy to get into town and eat more Mexican food. At this point we have eaten only Mexican food since El Paso, and really I see no need to eat anything else.

The remainder of the day was spent watching the sunset, walking around town, and eventually driving north to find a campground (note: you will not find a last minute campground in Southern California on a Saturday night.) We did however find a hotel room in Laguna Beach, the most ridiculously stereotypical So Cal town in So Cal, where the rich, the richer and their kids all squander away dough on overpriced drinks and food at Shi Shi restaurants and bars. We took it easy at the motel, which appeared to be built in the 50’s and hadn’t changed a bit since then. It was the perfect place to hide from the people of Laguna Beach and to catch up on some much needed rest.

San Diego, California

We played one of our most crowded shows of the tour Friday evening in San Diego. The promoter and all the other musicians were excellent people, which really made the night. A band from Tijuana whose name I cannot recall headlined the show. When speaking with their bass player about touring I mentioned we had been on the road for almost two months. He then told me that their band had toured Mexico for four weeks, reminding me that in Mexico roads have no shoulders, fueling stations are sometimes too far apart, and in general, trouble is a little easier to find than in the States. That is a tough tour, and I do believe we have it much easier. It also got me thinking about how difficult it must be for a Mexican band to cross over into the States and tour. Taking a van loaded with equipment across the border must be complicated. I would guess the odds are stacked against a Mexican band performing rock music in the States, but these guys made things look easy with their engaging performance and positive attitudes. I hope they make it to Seattle eventually.

That evening Chris’ Aunt Samantha took us out to party at some 50-year-old surfer dude’s house where we basically sat around and told tour jokes and amused ourselves until 6 AM. A little later than most of us were bargaining for, but a really nice time nonetheless.

Tucson, Arizona

Written by Colin Spring

Matt has generously offered to allow me to fabricate an entry into his tour journal so consider this fair warning that any intellectual dips are certainly not the by product of Matt Dente and his steady diet of cheap beer and grease. Matt is fine, better than fine as a matter of fact. He is freshly showered and laundered and each of those things in equal parts is a marvelous cocktail.

In an amazing feat of syncopation, we rolled into Tucson at the crack of noon; It may have been the first time in previous eight weeks that I can recall the five of us traveling together in automobiles before the midday hour.

We found our friends Michael and Danielle in there downtown adobe walled shotgun shack. Michael is a musician himself and a fine fingerstyler who prefers a d-a-d-g-a-d tuning. He also is the founder of the Home Recorded Culture, which has survived for over a decade. The two of them moved to Tucson about a year ago and are settling in nicely. Tucson is a cool town, smaller and for the time being less sprawling than Phoenix Although in the end all of AZ is sure to fall to the evil forces of real estate developers. They are wicked, wicked people who know nothing of poetry or aesthetic and overwhelmingly drive tasteless cars and have silly haircuts.

We had an afternoon radio show at the U of A station KAMP. They were a great crew with a first class operation. We played a few songs and plugged the evening show then returned home where we sat on the roof drinking moderately and gazing out at a spectacular sunset.

The venue the Red Room pays you in food and drink. You know like they used to do back when the world was still pure. Sing for your supper and all that. Speaking for the group, the food left us partially paralyzed and nearly unable to fulfill our end of the obligation. About three songs in I started sweating out a pure form of the Alfredo sauce that had previously rested heavily upon my tortellini. Even At the Spine looked as if several restraining wide gauged pasta noodles bound their feet. I’ve heard of similar tortures involving pulleys and meat hooks and the like but that is all pretty sick stuff that I don’t want to go into here.

If my memory serves me correctly, we closed the place down and then headed home to clean out the insides of a Jameson’s bottle. Also if my memory serves me correctly I owe myself about twenty thousand bucks that was foolishly squandered over the past decade on cheap entertainment. Good luck collecting from myself though I am a notorious deadbeat.

I think the video camera was on for a good chunk of the evening while we exchanged stories and heard another recounting of Panama’s infamous gay black man story from Jacksonville. It is a classic and it never tires. Then the room went blank and I awoke sometime this morning with a bladder the size of an overripe watermelon and a headache that required a double dose of intense arthritis medication. Fortunately the lid was designed for gnarled fingers like Sycamore branches and my trembling hands were able to spill out the contents and feverously lap them up with the last remaining drop of moisture on my whiskey laden tongue.

Phoenix, Arizona - Day 2

We had a second show in Phoenix so we were able to spend the entire day lounging, napping, and swimming at Panama’s brother’s house. It was an excellent day, one that we savored every moment of. We really needed the recharge before the homestretch this next week. It is hard to believe we are about to begin the last leg of the trip up the west coast.

Late morning we spent a few hours walking around an old orchard, preserved as a museum, about a mile away from where we were staying. Elaborately cared for palm trees, citrus trees, and flowers sat in every corner shielding our views of the surrounding sprawl; it was a pleasant escape from the city. Chickens, Peacocks, and Rabbits, roamed the area un-caged thinking they were in charge. Chickens would walk into streets, sit on benches, and make loud squawks at visitors passing by. It was thoroughly entertaining for some reason, maybe it is because our level of expectation for our entertainment has sunk to a grammar school level, and then again maybe our whole outlook on life has. When your day-to-day experience is focused on finding food, finding a place to sleep, and playing music, you can easily slip into the mode of simpleton. Regardless, it was a strange sight for anyone, especially tucked within the paved expanses of Phoenix.

The show that evening was in another Art Gallery, but this time they served alcohol and a few more people were on hand to hear some music. After the show we were all so tired from the generally low-key mellow day that we were ready to take off and crash as soon as possible, which we did, ending a great day with a good night’s sleep.

Phoenix, Arizona - Day 1

On the way to Phoenix we stopped in Sedona, the home of "New Age", you know, power crystals, John Tesh, the good stuff. This type of upper middle class pseudo hippie spirituality is forgiven when you witness the inspiration, the red rocks of the surrounding area. Native tribes flourished in the area hundreds of years ago, fueling the mystique of the region. The first explorers laid eyes on the astonishing rock wall dwellings long after the original inhabitants had mysteriously up and moved. A wonderful reminder that not only has the Southwest changed hands in the last 200 years, but that many people called this area home before the Europeans.

Upon reaching Phoenix it was more than obvious that the city is big. It took us 30 minutes to reach downtown Phoenix from the city line, that was without traffic. The sprawl of the city goes on forever in all directions, repeating landscapes comprised of strip malls and palm trees. Towns run together creating a huge collective city over 3 million strong. Phoenix’s booming economy and relatively cheap living expenses have drawn many to the area, including Gordon’s brother Jerry and his family, whom came out to see the show at an art gallery slash coffee shop. This was not an ideal venue for a rock show, but we did our best and played to a small crowd while sipping tea and coffee, a nice change of beverages.

That evening, Jerry welcomed us all into his family’s home to swim, party, and eat like kings. After a few rounds, he told us stories about his brother Panama Red Potter, whom we have known simply as Gordon these last few months. Gordon has been traveling with us documenting the tour with plans to make a movie about Colin and the working band experience. The stories of Panama’s youth are not fit for print here, but have certainly left and indelible mark on us. Gordon has been reborn, long live Panama!

Day Off - Flagstaff, Arizona

With a day off we headed to Flagstaff, Colin’s hometown, so he could visit with his Mom and we could check out the mountain town. We arrived in the evening and had the best chili and cornbread courtesy of Colin’s Mom. After a few hours of eating and hanging out we headed into town to our hotel, also courtesy of Colin’s Mom, and checked email and relaxed before hitting some of the local bars to hang out for a while. It is always difficult to get a feel for a place in such a short amount of time, but Colin helped fill in the gaps with personal insights and stories from the past.

The elevation here is the biggest change from where we have been. At 6000 feet, we are definitely closer to the heavens, although the flat landscape leading up to the city from the east was a deceiving gradual climb. One is quickly convinced of the elevation when witnessing the enormous peaks just outside of Flagstaff, and if that is not enough, the temperature drop to the 30s in the late night is even harder to argue with.

Albuquerque, New Mexico

We debated whether the drive up to Albuquerque from El Paso was worth the gas money, it would be unusual to have a good turnout on a Sunday night in an unfamiliar place, but we trucked up there none the less and hoped for the best. Along the way, we watched a beautiful sunset. Sunsets in the desert are unbeatable.

After about four hours on the road we arrived at a small club filled with hipsters watching primetime cartoons. Later, we played in a near empty room adjacent to the bar. Back in the bar quite a few people, mostly regulars, gathered and enjoyed themselves completely oblivious to the fact that a band was playing 30 feet away. It was not a bad show, it was actually a good sounding room and was fun to play in, but it was a practice, not a show. These things happen, no one gets bent out of shape, and we move on. That said it is hard not to ask why there were no flyers posted, in fact virtually no promotion at all, even the regulars in the bar were unaware of the show. Nice work.

We saw little else of Albuquerque, it is one of those places we breezed through, but it is always great to see something new and different, even if only for a short while.

Day Off - Ciudad Juarez, Mexico

After some much needed rest, the group of us planned to cross the border and visit Ciudad Juarez, a huge sprawling city that has a reputation for being a rough town. During the day, the city can be seen from El Paso in the North, but it is at night when the immense area can be appreciated from a distance. Looking south from El Paso, a sea of lights stretch as far as the eye can see, and with virtually no tall buildings, just a steady cluster of neighborhoods, subtle waves of light paint an awe inspiring picture.

The activity in Juarez is intense. The sidewalks are crowded, and every inch of space is used to provide a service, sell a product, or simply socialize. We walked to the Mercado, where the rich smells of Mexican street food spread everywhere and colorful vendors lead us through the market’s maze. On the other side of the Mercado we found a cantina where we cooled off with an afternoon drink. Afterwards we were possessed by the many delicious smells roaming the streets and we had no choice but to stop at about three taco stands on the way back to the border. Two Asada Tacos with a combination of authentic salsas is the best deal on the continent at $1 US. We were sorry to have to leave, but needed to get back to El Paso to see Ernie and Allan’s band, El Camino, play.

That evening we found our way to a venue in a strip mall outside of El Paso where El Camino, a Latin, Blues, Reggae and Rock flavored band including Ernie and Allan and slew of other talented musicians was preparing to entertain a large crowd. These guys were one of the best live bands I have seen in a long while, inspiring an all ages crowd comprised of teenagers up to thirty-somethings.