Screamin' Pumpkins – Melancholy and the Infinite Beer Shortage

Fall is my favorite time of year for several reasons: changing colors, a steady decrease in insects, and pumpkin flavored beer. Almost every micro-brewery brews a seasonal pumpkin ale for fall (Liberty Street actually brews theirs year round) and each tastes a little different. Some go for the pure pumpkin flavor while others are inspired by the spices in pumpkin pie. Even Michelob and Blue Moon have their own pumpkin ale offerings.

Easily, my favorite of the lot is Michigan Brewing Company's own 'Screamin' Pumpkin Spiced Ale', a beer described by Beer Advocate as 'a cross between a pumpkin pie, a Molasses cookie, and a Ginger snap'. Sound amazing? Yes!

Imagine my surprise when just this week, closing on the second half of September, I went to the MBC brew-pub downtown and...they were out of 'Screamin' Pumpkin'. Seriously. Out on draft, out on bottle, and the waitress (whom I am not holding responsible), did not know when or if they would get any more for the rest of the season. According to her, MBC shipped a bunch of the fantastic brew out of state this year and they had already gone through their short supply. MBC, where are your priorities?

Anyway, the next day I checked the local Meijer and Kroger. No 'Screamin' Pumpkin'. I even tried the fully stocked bodega 'Oades Big Ten' on Clippert...no 'Screamin' Pumpkin' and according to their clerk over the phone, they were not sure when they would receive more. Finally, I called MBC in Webberville to find out what the hell was happening. The guy there said that they had plenty on draft in Webberville, but the demand was far greater than the supply regarding bottle distribution. According to him, they were brewing more but he gave me no time table of when my stores shelves would be stocked.

Almost defeated, I tried to put the disappointment out of my mind. The very beer served at my wedding, brewed in state only once a year, was already snatched by eager and knowing beer snobs like myself before the season even officially started.

This morning, I stopped at Goodrich's in East Lansing for the first time just to check. Careful searching confirmed that the 'Screamin Pumpkin' was no where to be found on the shelf or in the cooler next to the other MBC brews or even with the other seasonal pumpkin ales. Just when I was about to give up hope, I checked the cooler one more time and discovered hidden on the floor...the last two six-packs of 'Screamin' Pumpkin'. Fortune it seemed was smiling upon me, rewarding my diligence with the delicious taste ginger spiced pumpkin pie in a bottle. Thank you Goodrich's. My quest – at least for now is at an end. 

One of the two remaining packs of 'Screamin' Pumpkin'

'A Walk to Remember'...To Take the Shorter Beach Path

In August, Erin and I ventured off to the west side of Michigan for Lake Michigan beach time. Anyone who has ever been to the lower west side of Michigan on the weekend already knows that the beaches of Holland, South Haven, Grand Haven and others are almost always packed by 9 or 10am. The roads by the beach also serve as a parking lot, and while the beaches are quite beautiful, they can also feel claustrophobic and uncomfortable for those of us with body image issues.

Perhaps betting against this knowledge, we still drove through Holland in the early afternoon in search of parking before quickly resigning to search elsewhere. The nice thing about Lake Michigan apart from its size is the related benefit that many cities and small towns touch its waters. If one beach is full, you can just drive to the next one up the road. Which led to our discovery of the beach in Saugatuk.

We visited Saugatuk several times before for the Waterfront Film Festival and playing with the band. Even with it's proximity to the coast, I don't think I even knew before this weekend that Saugatuk had a beach.

It's not easy to find. Once you pass the State Park guard post and park, an entire forest stands before you and the beach. Seriously. On one path, it's only a half-mile walk through looming trees and brush while the other path is more like two miles. Not being people that often follow the crowd, we accidentally took the two mile path on the way to the beach. Walking wasn't an issue since we had dined at the Hut of Pizzas an hour prior and Erin kept gleefully running up the hills while I took pictures of her. The trees were miles high and appeared to be sacred, never to be touched by urban landscapes. At last, we both saw dunes with grass beckoning us from up high and below, I chose to go below and meet Erin on the other side where we met up and ran down the scorching hot sand to the Lake Michigan waters.

Our feet recently ex-foliated, the waters felt amazing. A few couples and families lined either side, however being purists we were not keen on lapping through the seaweed or lake foliage churned up from boat propellers. Instead, we enjoyed the water from the lake's edge and enjoyed watching the boaters out on the water. We reveled in the sun and relaxed the afternoon away, then re-joined civilization and drove back to Holland to see an early evening movie.

Erin had already staked out 'The Dutch Village' on our way in and said must stop there on our way back in honor of her ancestors. Taking pictures of geese, REALLY big geese and dutch building facades, one felt like they were in an extended version of EPCOT's Holland. Steep ticket prices turned us off from walking through the official gates so we wandered over to the local AMC movie theater to see, “Crazy, Stupid, Love”. Funnier than expected, surprise cameos made the movie even if it wasn't sure where to end.

Trail Through The Forest

Scenes Through the Trees

Saugatuk Beach

Outside the Dutch Village

Yes, a Wooden Shoe Shop

The 'Union Street' Sweat – Guest Harmonica Talent Helps Turns Damp Dive Into Dance Haven

Traverse City used to seem so far away from Lansing. Now it's en-route to the gig 8 hours away in the Upper-Peninsula. “3 ½ hour drive? Eh, it's nothing.” The longer the road trips, the more my sense of 'normal distance' becomes distorted.

Truthfully, Nic, Eric and I love Traverse City for various reasons, especially our most recent venue the Union Street Station. I'm not just saying that. Decent pay, complimentary Founders beer, a spacious stage, and a seasoned, intuitive sound-board operator are a winning combination not found everywhere. So Union Street Station is more dive-bar décor than fudgie* corporate chic (like much of downtown Traverse City), but they're hometown crowd oriented and unapologetically earthy.

The 'no smoking in buildings' ban may have been in place since last year May, but dive bars can be identified by the lingering look and aroma of smoke still clinging to the walls which by the way have never been washed. The lighting is very dim for this reason. The bathroom stalls are in pretty poor shape with plenty of etched graffiti into layers of black paint and there may or may not be soap or paper towels.

Most importantly, the staff are all easy going and accommodating without corporate smiles and other fake niceties. It's the kind of charm that distinguishes a place from every other bar in town yet makes it nearly identical to every small-town neighborhood bar over the state and probably country.

Our gig happened coincide with the week of the Traverse City Film Festival, which meant lots of tourists and no parking. Eric was concerned that the film festival would hamper our turnout, but against his pessimistic prediction, we drew a sizable audience of wonderful people including Eric's wife Tammy and their close friends from Traverse City.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of this gig was tolerating the extreme humidity. Union Street Station apparently has air-conditioning but chose not to turn it on despite sweltering temperatures inside and 100% humidity. I am not exaggerating. Even standing still, exerting absolutely no effort without slowly becoming drenched in sweat. To clarify, this was not sweat that came from inside the body, not at first at least. This was sweat that stuck to you like water droplets on the outside of a cold class of water. Our bodies were colder than the air in the room and the air would condense on our faces until we could hardly see.

Once we actually started playing, there was no stopping the torrential rain pouring across your brow as if someone was standing over you, dumping glass after glass of liquid over you. We could not even feel the beer we were drinking because it practically exited from our pores as soon as we poured it into our mouths.

The highlight of the evening came when Craig Griffith, harmonica player and back-up vocalist for the Michigan based rock band 'The Verve Pipe' joined us on-stage playing harmonica.

If you listened to pop or rock radio at all in the nineties, you know the Verve Pipe because of their excessively over-played single 'The Freshman', a kind of one-hit-wonder for them that helped put Michigan music on the map.

Griffith is a fantastic harmonica player, flashy yet intuitive, who simply asked to join us on a song or two. Given Eric's propensity to invite guest musicians to join us on the fly, he must have played closer to 10 songs with us throughout the evening. Truly, we had just as much fun with him as he appeared to have with us. Maintaining stamina to play for four hours can be challenging, but Griffith helped us focus on something beyond the response of the audience...and the sweat covering our bodies. 
***

* Yes, 'fudgie' is a real word, at least in the urban dictionary. Ok, it's derogatory slang for 'A tourist to the northern lower, or eastern upper peninsula of Michigan, especially the Mackinac area. Often these tourist are from lower parts of Michigan, and are usually on vacation "up north". The name fudgie comes from the fact that many of these tourist like to spend lots of time in the many fudge shops in northern Michigan. Locals are generally not fond of fudgies, as they seem to have no small town driving abilities, and can sometimes be snobby or annoying. Fudgies are identifiable by bright clothes, and the presence of cameras around their necks and the use of fanny packs. Also, the use of shoes and sock at wholly inappropriate times, such as on the beach and the pronunciation "Mack-in-ack" are dead giveaways.' http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fudgie

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PS - My apologies for the lack of photos on this post. I honestly took no photos at the gig. Below is a picture of the beautiful view from Eric and Tammy's friend's home in Traverse City. Their home, on a giant hill, is only accessible by a skinny, half-mile driveway which is hardly accessible in the winter. Still, the morning view through the trees everyday is breathtaking. My thanks for their gracious and constant hospitality. 
 

The fantastic view of Lake Michigan from Eric's friend's house where we stayed the night.

TMBG Are 'Older Than They've Ever Been' But Still 'Twisting'

If lyrical non-sequiturs like 'I'm your only friend. I'm not your only friend. But I'm a little glowing friend. But really, I'm not actually your friend. But I am,' give you nerdy goose-bumps of joy, then you should have been at The Intersection in downtown Grand Rapids Sunday night. 'They Might Be Giants', the original experimental pop-nerd rock duo from Brooklyn brought the full-band treatment to classic cuts and new tracks from their latest album 'Join Us'.

Brand new album, signed by the entire band: $20!

For anyone completely unaware of the TMBG cult phenomenon, allow me to provide a brief bio. TMBG attracted a small by nerdy legion on college radio with classics like “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)”, and “Particle Man” in the early 1990's. They found their niche by blending a host of different musical styles like funk, punk, and pop-rock without sounding like any of them.

Their catchy eccentric sound tapped directly into middle-school nerd brains across the mid-west including my own. More original than 'Weird Al' parodies and intellectual enough to make you feel enlightened by simply memorizing their songs, TMBG was the only band that I knew that could apply a pop hook formula to a biology textbook forming a song like 'Mammal'. Sing it with me 'So the warm blood flows through the large four-chambered heard, maintaining the very high metabolism rate they have.' Yes, humor and learning belonged in music and it did not have to be biblical.

For me, Sunday night's show highlighted so many reasons whey TMBG stands the test of time. Specifically, they incorporated classic material throughout a set list of new album songs, they promoted audience interaction at one point dividing the audience into 'Apes' and 'People' for a shout off, and perhaps most importantly, they got a large audience of white people to dance...albeit very very badly.

They are fan-centric yet true to themselves, tight musicians but open to improvisation, and goofy without feeling gimmicky. When it's so easy to be cynical and hyper-aware of media manipulation, TMBG feel authentic and anti-agenda...although one does have to have a sense of humor for actual appreciation :)

TMBG Full Band WITH Back Screen Projections

Yarn Puppets interlude performing imitations of Gerald Ford and Henry Kissinger (no joke).

TMBG Drumset Up Close

Yes, the real John Flansburgh up close, handing out window stickers.

The Not-So-Secret Meijer Gardens

Our euphoric high from Hiawatha continued the Tuesday after, temporarily dulling our senses for the Tuesday Evening Music Club. Held in the Meijer Gardens Outdoor Amphitheater in Grand Rapids, the Music Club originated from the mind of prominent Grand Rapids singer-songwriter Ralston Bowles to showcase regional up and coming artists. Every Tuesday night from the beginning of July through the end of August, two bands take the stage between 7pm and 9pm. Earlier this summer, music legends Elvis Costello, Huey Lewis, and Brian Wilson played on the very same stage. It was both empowering and nerve-wracking to play on the same stage in an amphitheater large enough to to fit 1,900 people. Easily, this would be the largest venue we had ever played.

Drive UP to Old Folkie - The Hiawatha Music Festival

Unlike BIMF, Hiawatha Music Festival (HMF) defied most of my expectations for a folk festival. Due to its location in Michigan's upper-peninsula within the 'Hiawatha State Forest', I braced myself for a trek deep into the untamed woods surrounded by bears and Yoopers. Instead, the space used for festival day-parking is a Northern Michigan University student lot just minutes away from downtown Marquette, the U.P.'s largest city. The festival grounds themselves butt up against suburban cross-streets in a spacious R.V. park.

The park itself is surrounded by a thicket of trees and light forest which conceals sights of the surrounding city. Inside, a paved, winding road leads through a few acres of now tromped on grass and dirt decorated by metal playground pieces and cement public bathrooms. Heading into the park Thursday evening (the night before we were supposed to play) felt like being pumped through a fat clogged artery. Campers and trucks on narrowed our path on either side and festival goers with no where else to walk, lackadaisically strode in the in our path virtually oblivious to our presence until we practically ran them over.

After a second pass around the great circle, we finally found a parking spot nudged in between two other campsites. Dusk provided enough light to set up our tents efficiently. Since Nic's friend Alex joined us (and claimed Nic's other air mattress), I resigned to sleep in Eric's tiny tent instead.

Somehow even without an air mattress, sleep came much easier this weekend than at Beaver Island, an anomaly that I will simply credit to practice.

Leave it to Beaver Island – Highlights from BIMF 2011

After this weekend, I feel I've learned something about evolution, or at the very least, about my ability to adapt to new environments. Once I accepted the fact that I could not shower for three days in a row, I found comfort with each progressive layer of dirt, sweat, and bug repellent building on my skin if only for its ability to keep swarming mosquitoes away. But this festival was not about the dirt or the bugs, it was about enjoying music outside and away from cell phone towers.

Admittedly, this point was mostly lost on me as I spent more time at the coffee shop in town or in Nic's tent than I did in front of or behind the stage. Despite this self-made seclusion, I still managed to hear several incredible artists, two of whom I recommend below.

Return of Paulivers Travels

Dear Loyal Readers,
My sincere apologies for the posting delay. I am about caught up on a backlog of posts. Do expect a new post every other day. My goal is to maintain the blog more regularly than I have. Thank you for continuing to follow my travels with me.

All the best,
Paul Wozniak

Don't Fear the Beaver (Beaver Island Music Festival – Thursday, July 14)

Had I known that an insignificant water collision would cause a 4 ½ hour ferry departure delay, I probably would have waited until Friday to make my way to the Beaver Island Music Festival (BIMF). More on that later.

In the style of many other local and regional music festivals, BIMF features days of musical entertainment and on-site camping in the middle of a forest. Except for a water barrel, latrines, and a few food vendors, the quaint downtown five miles away houses the only supplies and amenities to festival goers. The island itself is a 2 hour ferry ride from mainland Michigan. In it's ninth straight year, BIMF draws several hundred music lovers with a passion for camping, the wilderness, and a lights-out time of 4 or 5am allowing plenty of time for intoxicated partying. Music acts range from bluegrass, acoustic classic rock, fuzz box acid blues, to Celtic jams. With lots of tie-dye and Bob Marley posters, BIMF is a hip-hop and heavy-metal free experience catering to a racially monochrome but all-ages audience.

Thursday afternoon, our ferry to Beaver Island from Charlevoix left around 7pm instead of its scheduled 2pm after the ferry driver allegedly hit a smaller craft boat upon pulling away from the dock. According to hearsay, there was no visible damage to either boat, but the ferry driver insisted on calling the Coast Guard to inspect and possibly issue a citation. Of course the nearest Coast Guard representative was in Sault Ste Marie. The commute and inspection ultimately delayed our departure by four hours, an apparently unprecedented delay in the ferry company's 70 year history. For a more factual and official version of this story, follow this link to the Petosky News: http://articles.petoskeynews.com/2011-07-14/minor-collision_29775769

Fortunately our performance times were not until Friday and Saturday evening. Setting up a tent in the dark was a challenge, as was sleeping in a tent for the first time since I was a Boy Scout (yes, I was, for about 1 year), but I survived to tell the tale. To my pleasant surprise, they even have wireless internet in several of the 'quaint' businesses that I described. No commercial franchises to be found, but everything I need to survive for three days is here. More coverage of music from the festival and my first-hand experience with mosquitoes next post.

See that little circle in the map? That's where I am.

Emerald Isle Ferry Boat Unloading

En-route to the festival in the back of a flat-bed truck

Beaver Island Sky at Dusk

A.C. In St. Louis

If Connie's home were located near virtually any other major city or on the water, it could easily fetch a half-million dollars or more. But in land locked Terre Haute, Connie's home sits on the market for a fraction of the price. Classic 1920's architecture featuring polished hardwood floors, cathedral ceilings, enormous bedrooms, and a stylishly remodeled upstairs bathroom and kitchen make this home a visually aesthetic gem. Sure it's energy inefficient, the exposed floors and walls exponentially amplify and echo every sound, and medieval tapestries could appropriately decorate the hallways, but the initial reaction from everyone who steps through the front door must never get old.

For understandably practical reasons, Connie is selling her home. Sadly, Thursday night through Friday morning may have been our final visit to one of our favorite post-gig resting places.

With no performances until Saturday night, we decided to head toward St. Louis anyway to spare hours of driving on Saturday. On my insistence and promise to pay half (I paid 100%), we stayed at a Motel 6 just 15 minutes outside of the city instead of searching for a camp ground. I got Eric and Nic to admit later that given the oppressive heat and humidity outside, the motel was a good call. For dinner, I incorrectly ordered a complex meal at the nearby Waffle House. I say 'incorrectly ordered' because I spent over $20 ordering extra items ala-carte instead of settling with a pre-priced meal at a fraction of the cost. The apple-cinnamon waffles and coffee were a scrumptious novelty, but by the end I felt stuffed and ripped off rather than satisfied.

Saturday morning...well...Saturday afternoon, we left the hotel to explore the cultural offerings of downtown St. Louis such as the zoo and art museum which to our pleasant surprise are free to the public. Walking from the parking lot to the zoo meant wading through thick humidity and a scorching sun, so when we passed the stone columns guarding the enclosed art museum entrance, we conceded to the demand of our sweat covered bodies and strode inside instead.

I can't speak for Eric or Nic, but I personally prefer the company of quiet museum goers (snobbish as they may be), strolling, studying, and murmuring over the swarming masses of parents and obnoxious prepubescents scrambling past exhibits of caged, hairy, smelly beasts or internationally varied cousins of park squirrels.

Featuring an array of world art including Picasso's (really, who doesn't have at least one Picasso?) Gauguin's, works from the Rembrandt school, and a Chuck Close portrait, the St. Louis Art Museum primarily focuses on works from the region especially pertaining to early urban development around the Mississippi River. I think we all would have stayed longer, but hunger drove us out of comfort and culture, into the barely ventilated van, and finally to a nearby Steak and Shake for culinary pop art.

After devouring a delicious avocado steak burger and fries, I indulged in a strawberry milkshake for the first time in about 5 years. Thankfully my lactose-intolerant stomach forgave slip into sugary sublime during our return visit to the Tower Grove Park where the squirrels like in Manhattan, scavenge eerily close to occupied picnic tables.

Our reprise performance at Pop's Blue Moon was arguably tighter than last time, but the audience count still disappointed. Counting ourselves, we drew less than 20 people. On the plus side, at least 4 people heard us the last time we played and came back to hear us again.

The amazingly hospitable Paul and Pat put us up for the night again, feeding us a delicious, late-night snack of fried won tons over Romaine lettuce. Breakfast consisted of skillet cooked Dutch Babies (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_baby_pancake), a pancake like entrée served with warm, syrupy strawberries and blueberries (or your favorite breakfast topping). Fresh watermelon, black cherries, and flavored coffee gave us plenty of sustenance for most of our 9 hour drive home. Once again, Paul and Pat have outdone themselves and we truly and humbly can not thank them enough.

St. Louis may be miserable outside in the summer, but our air-conditioned oasis's made the trek worthwhile. 

Pool and Park in front of St. Louis Art Museum

St. Louis Statue, Art Museum behind

Anti-Bird Nest Spikes inside Turkish Pavilion (Tower Grove Park)

2 Squirrels, 1 Discarded Bag of Cheetos

Indiana to Missouri and Back, Day 2 - Terre Haute, IN

With no plans for the day and measly hour and a half drive from Bloomington to Terre Haute, we accepted Kayle's invitation to hang out during the day. While I conducted an interview for my free-lance work with the Lansing City Pulse and worked a little on my blog, the day mostly consisted of watching movies and free-jamming with Kayle until it was time to leave for Terre Haute.

We discovered that 'I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry' is not the worst movie in the world and that Robin Williams' 'Weapon of Self Destruction' is filled with very dated jokes, even for the date it was filmed.

For those unfamiliar with both, 'I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry' is the Adam Sandler, Kevin James ('Mall Cop') vehicle that offended many and tickled others with its unorthodox approach to endorsing alternative lifestyles. Sandler and James play two heterosexual NY firefighters who publicly claim to be gay lovers in order to retain domestic partner benefits for James' children. Featuring Saturday Night Live alumni such as David Spayde, Dan Akroyd, Rob Schneider, and a hilarious, non-speaking role by Dave Matthews, 'Chuck and Larry' follows the Sandler story arch with celebrities and actors playing against type and an up-beat ending that is too good to be true. Still, watched in context, 'Chuck in Larry' has its heart in the right place, mocking stereotypes instead of people where everyone is better off if we all just love each other.

'Weapons of Self-Destruction' warrants little comment, much less a review suffice to say that Robin Williams needs to stay on top of current events in order to retain the funny in his comic style. Where he used to be cutting edge, Williams act now feels like a dull, 3-blade razor, desperately trying to keep up with the times while sounding so out of date. Maybe watching cable television would be good for some people as Williams instead seems to be riffing on taped reruns.

After we finish packing the van ready to head to Terre Haute, we realize none of us has the keys. Turns out while Eric cleverly placed the keys in his backpack to prevent forgetting them in the house, he neglected to take them out of his bag before stowing it in the car top carrier...which was now locked. Calmly and slightly out of character, I informed the group that with a small wrench, we could actually unscrew the bolts on the car top carrier to open the top and prevent having to cut the locks. 15 minutes, a borrowed wrench, and several pairs of pliers later, the keys were in hand courtesy of ME. Yes, it was my quick thinking and skinny arm which deftly reached through the tiny opening of the car top carrier and grabbed the keys from the zipped pouch. Shamelessly, I used this act of heroism to shield myself from all snarky jabs directed my way for the rest of the weekend. (In full disclosure, I should mention that Eric and Nic helped to unscrew the car top carrier latches as well. Also, thank you to Kayle's father for the temporary loan of the tools)

Home to a healthy and vibrant downtown scene including Indiana State University, Terre Haute, Indiana is also home to The Verve, a happening nightclub that happened to be awesome and book our band for the second time. Inspired by the air-conditioning and cool posters of classic rock bands on the walls around the stage, we played a blistering 4 hour set complete with a new blues number written by Eric. The crowd response was surprisingly mixed with minimal response in between songs but plenty of adulation in between sets. Still, we were very proud of our performance which was aided by strong acoustics and a monitor for myself.

Connie, the owner of the Verve, put us up again in her beautiful home just up the street. More description of the house later, but a cold shower before sleeping in a soft mattress in an air-conditioned room felt like our final reward to a show well played. 

Eric and Kayle free-jamming at Kayle's

The Verve exterior

Indiana to Missouri and Back, July 6-9 (Day 1)

When your first gig starts with no comped drinks and ends with two cases of free beer, it's easy to feel like Karma is smiling upon you. Thus was our Wednesday and Thursday in Bloomington, Indiana. Upland Brewery mirrors many Michigan micro-breweries with its emphasis on quality craft beer and gourmet food catering to the refined hipster or independent music lover. Since we were not offered food, I can only vouch for the one beer I was able to try, the lemon flavored but not too sweet Wheat Ale. Upland houses a cozy indoor bar with a rather spacious outdoor patio, and so we played outside...on the pavement, without shade, in the sticky, Indiana summer. I can not tell you how much sweat we produced in total, but I can say the ice in my tall glass of water melted long before I finished drinking with a tablespoon of condensed air covering the exterior.
Upland was arguably not our strongest show especially considering we had not played together in a month, but we gained a few fans including one Upland employee named Kayle. Kayle warmly invited us back to his home a few miles away.
Perched in front of four acres of open field, just minutes away from sprawling suburbia, Kayle said that he would love to host an outdoor music festival in his backyard, like a mini-Woodstock for the good people of Bloomington. A complete drum set planted in the middle of the house ready for spontaneous free-jamming confirms these dreams and his priorities. As a former bassist for Hillary Duff's band, Kayle has the chops and experience to be a professional musician.
He also gets to take home the bottled beer that the brewery is unable to sell, beer bottles that are too full or too empty according to Kayle. With no taste for Upland's Wheat Ale, he offered us two full cases (40 bottles) for free! Sure we have limited space in the van, but what kind of gracious guests would we be to turn down cases of micro-brew beer?
After an extended jam session in the wee hours of Thursday morning, Nic, Eric and I collapsed in our respective beds and dreamt of hand drums accompanying electric guitar grooves. There's no lake around, but the spirit of 'Phish' was very present.

Upland Brewery Exterior Street View

Our parking lot setup

Nic and Eric by the van and the stage

Cool Upland bike rack made of old bikes

Kayle's House

Kayle's commemorative plaque

Close-up of plaque

Bob Dylan Tribute Show - Saturday, May 28 (Part 2)

Within the elapsed span of approximately two days, we as a band learned five Bob Dylan songs for the annual 'Bob Dylan Tribute Concert' at Founder's Brewery. Considering that Eric is the only 'true' Bob Dylan fan, (and that Nic flat out dislikes Bob Dylan with me somewhere in the middle) that is quite an accomplishment. I would argue with anyone that Bob Dylan is a prodigy song writer and lyric writer. Few to no singer-songwriters come close to the volume of the Dylan catalog with the same consistency of poetic, lyrical perception, the basic building blocks for creating a 'killer' song. I would also argue that although I appreciate Dylan's insistence to sing his own material (thus setting a low bar for any singers to follow), Dylan is not and never has been a singer. Apart from a handful of tunes like 'It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding', Dylan's voice rarely captures the ear beyond irritation and subsequent cringing provoked by his grinding, wheezy, impaired throat.

And so, what better way to familiarize yourself with the depth of the Dylan catalog than by listening to other people sing his songs. The goal being to thank and honor Dylan for writing so many beautiful songs and then showing him what his songs could sound like if he could sing.

We performed our own versions of (though not in this order) 'Maggie's Farm', 'I Will Be Released', 'The Man in Me' featured in the film 'The Big Lebowski, 'It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry', and 'You Ain't Going Nowhere'. An acoustic trio incorporating funk rhythms and minor harmonics into at least one major key song I felt stood out from the groups to follow.

Nic wore the 'Bob Dylan' sunglasses, I sucked in my fear of playing to a room of several hundred people, and we rocked the house as the opening band.

'Earth Fest' – Saturday, May 28 (Greenville, Michigan)

It was a calm, quiet beginning to Saturday, May 28. Our performance in Greenville for Earth Fest didn't start until 4pm. In order to justify our time and travel, Nic and Eric offered to run sound for the festival...for the entire day. From noon until almost 8pm, Nic and Eric (who traveled from the Detroit area mind you) set up microphones and played with the mixing board to ensure that every act sounded their best in the community center auditorium.

In prior years, the Greenville Earth Fest actually happened on 'Earth Day' approximately one month earlier than this year's Memorial Day weekend time slot. For whatever reason, the festival was delayed and aptly renamed simply 'Earth Fest', a title with no real significance or connection to anything and consequently, no advertising or audience either. Each band came and went throughout the day: setting up on stage, playing their short set, packing up, and leaving before the next band started. Long, folding banquet tables set up in the lobby to display locally made crafts and locally taxidermied animals sat un-puruesed by an an audience that never really came.

Sandwich helpings from the local Subway slowly disappeared courtesy of vendors and musicians who devoured the stacked slices of freshly cut salami and wheat bread with desperate hunger. After we finished our tight and raucous yet sparsely attended performance, Erin and I booked it to downtown Grand Rapids to unwind before setting up at Founders for our second and better attended performance of the day.

It is noteworthy to mention that while Greenville Earth Fest acts saw sparse crowds, my parents and only surviving grandmother drove out special. Having attended other performances of mine in the past, I was thrilled that she could see this project of mine for the first time and eagerly awaited her review. Her response surprised me to say the least performance, my dear almost 82-year-old grandmother said that she did not understand how the third member actually contributed to our sound. The third member to whom she referred is our bassist Nic, whose sound at least would surely be missed. My attempt to explain the important and often under-rated role that bass plays in any band, especially a trio like ours, left an unconvincing impression on her.

If our band was 'Survivor', my grandmother would have voted Nic off the island. 

'Welcome Home Tour', Part 1 - Friday, May 27 (Plymouth, Michigan)

For our first Michigan performance since the start of the tour, it was nice to play in a familiar venue, one where we knew the food and beer would both be delicious. If you have never been to Plymouth, Michigan, you might not know that they are home to Liberty Street Brewing Company, maker of award winning ales and venue for local music acts like our band. They don't distribute in bottles, but unlike most micro-breweries, they actually craft a pumpkin ale year round instead of seasonally.

Their performance space on the second floor is a long, narrow room with a low ceiling and hardwood floors; the perfect acoustical setting to deafen an audience even at medium volumes. Fortunately our prior experiences here taught us our sets go over surprisingly well even turned down low. In attendance for our homecoming was my wife Erin who captured some choice moments both frozen and kinetic. And now...pictures from the performance in black & white.

Nic and Eric singing loudly

Myself discovering the microphone

Eric and harmonica in motion

First Coney Island Hot Dog

For the record, I was born in Detroit, Michigan. But before a week ago, I had never eaten a staple Michigan food, the famous Coney Island hot dog. Reasons and excuses are not important, this is just sad. For anyone who has no clue what I'm talking about, a Coney Island hot dog is a hot dog covered in meaty, bean-less chili, diced onions, and yellow mustard. This specialty hot dog has no association with Coney Island, New York (apart from Coney Island, NY being the birthplace of the hot dog). They are actually named after a chain of restaurants started in the Detroit area called Coney Island which were run by Greek immigrants. Other specialty items on the menu usually include the gyro and the Greek salad. Feel free to check Wikipedia for the veracity of my statements as they always post the absolute truth :) - Coney Island Restaurant History and Coney Island Hot Dog History

The morning after our tour ended, Nic, Eric and I dined at 'Plato's Place' for brunch. A product of its time, 'Plato's Place' sounds more like a 60's metropolitan key party swing club, but I assure you that this 'Plato's Place' near Garden City is a black olive cutting, feta cheese dumping, 'surly' waitress staffed Greek diner. It was here that I tasted, consumed, and digested for the rest of the day, my first Coney Island hot dog.

The waitress actually joined Nic and Eric's ashamed chorus with her own incredulous stares and well-intentioned sarcasm. 'What!? You've never had a...and your from Michigan? What's wrong with you?' she exclaimed only half-jokingly.

Needless to say, another food rite-of-passage has been checked off my list.

Customized Carpet by the bathroom (they're in this for the long haul)

Freshly plated

Freshly tasted

Tuesday, May 24, 2011 – Buffalo, New York to Michigan

Before Tuesday, my only mental image of Buffalo, New York was from the Weather Channel after Buffalo had just been pummeled by a giant blizzard. This seems to happen every year. The city is directly on the shore of Lake Erie, just up the street from Niagara Falls, and like some cities in Michigan, they always seem to get the worst of the lake effect snow.

Good thing we came in May. Tuesday was actually the first sunny day we could remember having on tour in weeks. Sure it was a little windy and chilly, but the clouds were clear and the only water pelting us from above came from the misting of the Falls.

In addition to bad winter weather and a bridge to Canada, Buffalo is also home to some incredible urban architecture. I'm talking ornate sculptures, stone work, cathedral towers, and other period designs built at least a century earlier. The buildings may not be as large as Manhattan, but they are at least as decorative and impressive.

The band was to play a show at The Pearl Street Brewery, located at 76 Pearl Street. The problem is there are at least seven different '76 Pearl Streets' in Buffalo, New York. GPS doesn't know the difference. The first '76 Pearl Street' was located in a residential neighborhood about fifteen minutes outside of downtown Buffalo. The second one was on Pearl Street in downtown Buffalo, but about a mile away on a different section of Pearl Street. We asked a guy sweeping the street at the second location to point us in the right direction. How is a city allowed to have the same street address more than once within a city. They should have laws about this.

Anyway, after a fantastic and rejuvenating visit to the American side of Niagara Falls (see previous post) we head back to the Pearl Street Brewery.

Like the Bullfrog Brewery in Williamsport, PA, Pearl Street Brewery has some very tasty micro-brews from porters and stouts to German style ales that maintain a distinct character within the identifiable style they are modeled after. The interior of the brewpub is as attractive as the exterior sporting polished, lightly stained hardwood floors, spacious ceilings, and a raised seating area that Tuesday converts easily into our stage. 

Exterior of Pearl Street Brewery (Yes, that is a giant draft beer spout)

Our audience draw was less satisfying. The place is said to be packed on the weekends, but Tuesday after the dinner crowd left dropped to less than a dozen people. The bartender and door man are pleasant and encouraging, but there is virtually no one at the bar by the time we end our set early around 11pm.

With presumably no floor to crash on for the night and presumably no payment coming from our 'final' show Wednesday in Ohio, we easily vote down the option of a cheap hotel room and make the executive decision to head home early.

Two drivers, several energy drinks, and six hours later, we arrive at the Kole residence in Garden City ,Michigan (home to Nic and his mother) around 5am.

Being the compassionate mother that she is, Nic's mom is ecstatic to open the door for us even as we wake her up way too early. After piling in noisily, we crash on comfortable beds and couches soundly sleeping in the knowledge that we will not be kicked out the next morning. The traveling tour is over early, but in many senses this brings great relief.

Note and money from Nic's mom left on Eric's backpack when we woke up.

Back to the Blog

Dear Loyal Readers,
My apologies for my extended hiatus from writing. After arriving home last week, I've been taking some time recovering from sickness and relaxing. I promise more exciting blog posts rounding out the rest of the band tour, our first shows back in Michigan since the start of the tour, and continuing coverage of performances and travels in general of myself and my fellow bandmates Nic and Eric. Definitely more to read today and the weeks to come. Thank you for reading.

Sincerely,
Paul Wozniak

Niagara Falls, New York

One of our most rewarding day diversions for the entire trip was trekking across the bridge near Buffalo, New York to Niagara Falls. Having never been before, I was not aware that there are two different sets of falls. The larger “main” Niagara Falls better known as the 'Horseshoe Falls' can best be seen from the Canadian side. These are the falls filmed in Superman II. You know, at the beginning, when Clark Kent and Lois Lane have to travel to Niagara Falls undercover as husband and wife (don't ask why) and while strolling along the guard rail, notice a small child playing on the wrong side of the rail who slips and descends to his watery death only to be rescued by the every watchful Superman? And so Lois finally makes the logical connection that wherever Clark Kent is that Superman also is and that Clark Kent is probably Superman? Anybody?...'Kneel before Zod!'...(crickets chirp)

And I digress from my exceeding nerdiness...anyway, we saw the 'American Falls' which were still incredibly amazing, just not as large as the 'Horseshoe Falls'. So Canada has one thing larger than the United States. We do however have access on the American side to Goat Island, thusly named because of a harsh winter many years ago that killed all of this one guy's livestock, save for one goat. So the goat got the prize. Goat Island and the even tinier island next to it called the Three Sisters Island essentially divide the water between the Horseshoe Falls and the American Falls. Therefore on the other side of Goat Island, one is afforded a better view (though still behind) of the Horseshoe Falls. Only I (from the band) dared to walk around Goat Island to catch this unique view (not really) of Niagara Falls. And now...lots of cool pictures. Enjoy.

Niagara NY, Canada in the background

View of the Bridge, Downriver from Niagara

Bridge on Goat Island

The Falls from Goat Island

Horseshoe Falls from Goat Island

Monday, May 23, 2011 – Rochester, New York

Five hours of sleep and some medication make Monday morning significantly better than Sunday night. After leaving Kampersville, we head to Rochester, New York which is now only 5 hours away. Boulder Coffee Company is the kind of place we would have played many years ago as Drake with a completely different line up. The throw back vibe is not lost on Nic or Eric either who fear that we will blast customers out of the place.

Boulder Coffee features a full, carpeted stage with an upright piano, and an eclectic atmosphere with old television sets for decorative purposes. Strangely, the television sets are actually turned on during our set to static, which I guess adds to the coolness factor...or something.

To our surprise, our limited audience is very receptive. Our music even turned down to simmer still works. Applause is muted, but nearly every person who sits to listen buys a cd!

One of our attentive listeners is an off-duty EMT named Andrew. After hearing of our homeless plight from Eric, Andrew offers us a place to stay for the night. It's the apartment he used to live in for which he still has the key. Sounds sketchy, but he is still contact with one of his old roommates who is cool with us staying. We are awarded for our patience with a shower, a large springy mattress, and other furnishings as provided by the apartment complex. A clean and full nights rest for me more than makes up for the miserable night in the van. Thank you Andrew.

Eric soundchecking on stage at Boulder