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

Sunday, May 22, 2011 (Day off in the Middle of Nowhere, Vermont)

Camping and I do not get along. And I'm not talking about Harold Camping, the guy who made the prediction that the world would end Saturday, I mean real camping with tents and bugs. Maybe the world did end and camping is my hellish fate.

For Eric, camping is heaven. Not camping the way that we did it Sunday night, in a cheesy RV park off the highway. I'm talking 'real' camping where you wander into the wilderness and throw down a tent under the stars and play guitar around a campfire. Needless to say, Eric and I were not getting along Sunday evening. I stayed and slept in the van all night, cursing Nic and Eric every time they opened the van door to grab supplies. Each repeated offense let in a fresh swarm of mosquitoes and flies attracted to the dome light and increased my irritability. My bed consisted of the two back seats up against the t-shirt bins. I finally figured out that a sweat shirt was not sufficient coverage for me and so I finally crashed between the hours of 5am and 10am after retrieving my sleeping back from the back of the van, without opening the hatch.

The thing is, my day started well. I took some cold medicine for the first time and slept at the bartender's house until 2pm. At the Maggie's place, I discover that they own a kitten named Ziggy Stardust who can still be held in one hand and is one of the cutest kittens I've ever seen. She was rescued from a cat hoarder and now resides at their house where her job is to be adorable and to make my entire weekend.

Ziggy Stardust!

After showering and leaving Ziggy behind, we hit the road in search of a camp ground en-route to the gig in New York on Monday. The first camping spot we found was on a lake in a public park. It was a beautiful spot with a fire pit and everything, but as soon as we opened the door we were attacked by swarms of mosquitoes, too many for even Eric to handle. So we headed down the road and found another park, this one a national park, just on the other side of the road from the lake.

This one is perfect for Eric. We have to drive up a steep hill through a forest of trees to find the camping spots, one of which is directly in front of a natural spring flowing down layered rocks. It is a pristine sight for sure, but we encounter a park ranger who informs us that this site is not yet open.

Discouraged but not defeated, we head down the road only to discover the exact opposite of what Eric had been searching for. It is an RV camping park with cottages called (and I am not making this up) 'Kampersville' featuring a giant creepy squirrel in a striped bathing suit on it's sign AND an enormous color statue of said creepy squirrel mascot in the striped bathing suit.

Seriously! Who would want to swim with this squirrel?

While Nic and Eric find refuge and bug repellent in the fire that they make, I bunker myself in the back seat of the van, swatting and killing bugs and surfing the net at the cost of $8 for a day. Eric and Nic sleep comfortably outside in the tent that they have been itching to use since the beginning of the trip, and I fight with the fact that I must rest with my knees bent the entire night.

Saturday, May 21, 2011 – Montpelier, Vermont

On our way out of Portland, we stop by the famous Head Light lighthouse to take pictures and shoot some more footage for Kickstarter. The weather is strange. The clouds have parted to the sun which now lights the downtown area, but the coast of the Atlantic Ocean is extremely foggy. It is also almost 20 degrees colder and as a result, my camera lens keeps fogging up. Thankfully the clouds roll away enough to offer us a view of the rocky coast where ships have wrecked and where waves still lap against ancient rocks. 

Coast of Maine...or backdrop for Wuthering Heights

In front of the Head Light Lighthouse

Sign for a shipwreck from the 1800's

 

Our commute to Vermont through New Hampshire includes driving past natural springs running through untampered forests over sheer cliff rocks, low hanging clouds touching mountain peaks, and lush greenery blanketing rolling hills stuccoed with pines and beech and elm trees. Mountain resorts, hotels and bed and breakfasts nestled within nature feels more European than American.

Me and New Hampshire's natural wonders

Our drive into Montpelier, the capitol of Vermont is peculiar. Capitol cities in the mid-west are heralded with sprawling suburbs pointing toward a dense city and a prominent capitol building. In Vermont, at least from the direction we were heading in, the city center is hidden by rolling hills and tall trees. We drive past a few buildings that in Michigan would indicate the outskirts of a town with one stoplight. The reality is not far from our assumption.

One of the primary differences again between Montpelier and similar sized towns in Michigan is the people. This is a town of young people or so it seems, embracing the hippie lifestyle or any other lifestyle for that matter of their choosing. Crazy hair, tattoos, piercings, and customized facial hair are all part of the Montpelier culture. Many of the restaurants openly advertise their organic food offerings, eager to show their home grown, natural business practices. Again, businesses like these are hard to find in Michigan unless you are way up north or are in select pockets of liberal bastions like Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids. It's culturally shocking to say the least.

A really bad, unrepresentative picture of downtown Montpelier

We arrive in Montpelier right at 6pm, the supposed time of the end of the world. According to Harold Camping, a fundamentalist Christian on the radio, May 21^st, 2011 at 6pm was when Jesus Christ would return, 'rapuring' the saved and condemning the rest to damnation. Sadly we were not able to find Camping's Family Life Radio station where we are to tune in as the clock struck 6pm...and continued ticking. But street signs outside some of the bars and businesses indicated that they too were tuned into the possibility of earth's untimely destruction however mockingly. The end of the world did not come, and yet somehow I kind of wanted to believe that they had actually figured it out. What if May 21^st really was exactly 7,000 years since the great flood where Noah saved all the animals?

Our show was at a local bar/music venue called Charlie O's (not related to Jackie O's in Athens, Ohio) and while we were expecting a half-way decent turnout for a Saturday night, we did not expect it to get crazy. But it got crazy. One can always anticipate an interesting night when the first two guys who come up to talk to the band setting up are already drunk. To make matters worse, one guy had actually spent time in the Detroit area and was adamant that we would know the name of this guy who sold used cars there over a decade ago...if he could just remember his name. 'Kelly...it's Kelly something...Kelly...I'll think of it. I think it's like Kelly something,' for the entire 45 minutes we put our instruments together. The other guy just wanted to play a song with the band, a favor that Eric later let him indulge in even though he would not take the cue to end.

As for our set, we played increasingly better as the night wore on. There happened to be another band of the same music genre called 'The Devil Makes Three' playing the same night just up the street. Though we had never heard of them, they apparently have a following in the area, one that was ready to follow them out of our bar for the rest of the night. But fortune was on our side as the venue over sold tickets past capacity like a jumbo jet prompting them to turn many people away at the door. Instead of walking home, most of those turned away returned to our show and kept the room packed for the rest of the night. A good night for me means that I am drenched in sweat from playing so hard and I can safely say that both Eric and I needed new shirts by the end of the night.

The show got a little out of hand toward the end when the dance floor started turning into a mosh pit and dancers dancing a little too spiritedly on too many spirits started falling into our space and at one point, knocking Eric's microphone stand into Eric's mouth. Eric was ok and the guy later apologized, but the sudden rowdiness and lack of supervision from the bar definitely took us by surprise.

Charlie O's and Samosa Sam (where I ate dinner)

At the end of the night, we were still prepared to camp as we did not know where we were staying. But to our good fortune, Maggie, one of the bartenders lives in a house with some of the other bartenders and they graciously let us crash on their floor. Thank you Maggie and friends.

Neglected to Mention...

I neglected to mention earlier that it was my sister's birthday on May 19^th. Happy Belated 25^th Birthday younger sister!

I also neglected to mention that ever since Massachusetts, Nic, Eric and I have been talking like John F. Kennedy/Mayor Quimby. Not quite Car Talk, but as close as we can muster. The words 'back latch'

can not not be said without then digressing into 'My fellow Americans, ask nawt what your country can dew for you...' You get the point.

Mayor Quimby

Friday, May 20, 2011 – Portland, Maine

We made it! Portland was our furthest east destination and despite van repairs and almost a solid week of rain, we made it.

In Portland, Maine, we stopped in at the Shipyard Brewing Company where just three years ago, I purchased some festive pint glasses for my wedding. Having never been to the physical store before, I had no idea how large their merchandising operation was. Shipyard has an entire store of merchandise with their logos printed on everything. An entire line of mens and womens apparel, beer glasses of different varieties, coasters, stickers, buttons, bicycle jerseys, etc. Even New Holland Brewing who I consider to be a leader in micro-brewery merchandising doesn't go this far. Sadly, there is no brew pub attached to the brewery. Their beer however is on draft in nearly every restaurant in town.

Portland is similar to Philadelphia and Manhattan in that finding good street parking is nearly impossible. You can drive around for an hour at a time, circling the same block and never find a spot. We remedy this early on by parking in a vacant lot...fenced in by a construction company. The gate was open and we figured no one would mind us being there for a little bit. When we return to move the van several hours later, the chain link gate is locked! Our options quickly race through our heads such as buying bolt cutters or asking the construction guys to unlock the gate before Eric discovered that one side of the gate was held to the adjacent gate with a loose rope. Eric's quick thinking spares us humiliation and a parking ticket.

Not wanting to miss a dining opportunity in Maine, we shell out for lobster (sorry) at J's Oyster. Eric nearly has a panic attack anticipating that he has to break a live lobster in half with his bare hands and eat it. The menu in front of him describing almost as much is no help.

Nic and I reassure Eric that he will not have to kill a lobster himself and after drinking some of a Shipyard ale, we all calm down.

Eric and I order a lobster roll which essentially is lobster meat on a hot dog bun with some lettuce. I also order a cup of clam chowder (because it's Maine) and Nic gets a salad with lobster. Even next to the ocean, lobster is not cheap. Kind of gave us some shell shock (sorry). But the meat is succulent and we are satisfied and ready to play.

The Clam Chawda

The Lobster Roll

Port City Blue has to be one of the smallest venues we have ever played. Not only are we jammed on stage again, the actual room fits maybe 50 people if everyone is standing. A local group called Tricky Britches opens for us with some old-timey folk/country songs. Guitar, banjo, mandolin, fiddle, and stand-up bass make for a pretty standard setup but their vocal harmonies provides that necessary extra layer to bring their hoedown sound to life.

Tricky Britches brings in a crowd that fills the entire venue and fortunately most of them stay for our set. We thank them for their time by playing a killer show, the kind that pops eyeballs, 'You guys are from Michigan?' This is only our second show since the van repair bill, but the audience provides the energy we need to pull out all the stops with tight hooks and fills, blistering solos from Eric and Nic, and throat frying vocals from Eric.

The Tricky Britches graciously offer us boarding for the night and we are extremely grateful.

Thursday, May 19, 2011 – Lowell, Massachusetts

Spent over $900 Thursday to fix the van. Nic and Eric drove it in to Firestone and had to walk back to Cathy's (Nic's aunt) house. The mechanic said that he couldn't believe we made it this far without crashing. It was apparently the trek up the West Virginia mountains that destroyed our front wheel bearings and rods (the source of the noise). If we had taken a high speed turn, the bearings potentially could have let go of the tire rod which means the front wheels could have fallen away as we were moving. Thankfully the problem is now fixed although the reality is sinking in that we are not going to make any money this tour at all.

After returning home from work, Cathy showed us around down-town Northampton, Massachusetts. Northampton reminded me of Traverse City, Saugatuk, and other west-coastal towns in Michigan with the liberal vibe of Ann Arbor. Home to the elite all girls Smith college, Northampton is also home to a bunch of outdoorsy independent stores, organic everything stores, open 'alternative' lifestyles, and one Starbucks. Essentially, what passes for normal here would be considered radical almost anywhere in the mid-west except for the dorms of college campuses. I love it.

Cathy treats all of us to a delicious meal at a local restaurant. My descriptions are not sufficient to describe the deliciousness of this sandwich if you could even call it a sandwich. Fresh fancy lettuce, long strips of goat cheese or Brie, sliced turkey, on this multi-grain bread with more vegetables baked inside. I probably have the description completely wrong but this sandwich was unbelievable and unlike anything I have ever eaten before. I also drank a cup of delicious tea with honey which helped to sooth my aching throat.

After lunch, Cathy drives us back to the Firestone to pick up the van in plenty of time to drive to our gig.

Apart from being in Lowell and very close to Boston, I can't remember the name of the venue where we played. Its a cozy neighborhood sports bar with TV's broadcasting the baseball game between the Detroit Tigers and the Boston Redsox. Eric immediately makes 'frienemies' with the locals when he says he is a Tiger's fan. It's fun being in a place where people take sports very seriously but also have a sense of humor.

The gig turns out to be pretty cool. I am stuffed in a corner again, whacking my elbows against the wall, but the audience is digging the music.

The most entertaining portion of the evening however are the accents. It's like listening to 'Car Talk' with expletives laden after every other word. Even though we aren't in Boston, we are close enough that we could be shooting a deleted scene for 'The Fighter' or 'Good Will Hunting'. People actually talk like that here. 'Pawk the Caw. Cam Awn! Faak!' R's disappear from some words and magically reappear in others. The later the evening goes, the more defined the accents become. It is really a trip.

Some of the locals listening to our tunes.

At the end of the night, Cathy (who drove 2 hours from Northampton to hear us play) gives us an extra tip to pay for a hotel room...because she is the best aunt in the world. Thank you Cathy for everything.

More Fun Pictures from Manhattan

I can't not share this pictures, but they don't really fit within the timeline of a post, so here are some other fun pictures from Manhattan.

My deliciously decorative cappuccino from Manhattan Day 1

A covert Stephen Colbert ad pasted on a construction wall. Label reads 'An Irony Rich Mouthful'

A sticker found on the door of the bar we hung out at the first night. 'The Good Beer Seal'

Kenny Powers is a fictional character from the show 'East Bound and Down'. If you know the show, this ad makes a little more sense.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011 – Manhattan (Day 2) and Connecticut

We inadvertently picked the worst days to come to some of the most scenic places so far. If Manhattan was cloudy and overcast yesterday, it is pouring rain today. It started raining as we were visiting Ground Zero in lower Manhattan. We stopped in for a slice of pizza to wait it out, but it never stopped. One bus ride later, we were blocks from the van, but we still felt like drowned rats by the time we closed the doors.

Before we left Manhattan, we saw the Imagine memorial for John Lennon, and the hotel where John Lennon was shot, and the World Trade Center Memorial under construction. All other sightseeing was off the table once the rain started coming down.

World Trade Center Memorial Under Construction

(My apologies for the lack of pictures after Manhattan. I stopped taking pictures for a couple days because I was feeling very ill)

Headed to Connecticut where we played at The Acoustic Cafe. I honestly don't remember what city we were in. Because of the rain which apparently stretched across the entirety of New England, we had less than a dozen people and made $40. But they had a house kit and were very hospitable. I was coughing the entire time on stage so I still couldn't sing back up vocals. I will condemn the cowboy themed restaurant across the street however. Mediocre food for exorbitant prices and service slower than the molasses they served as my dipping sauce for my sweet potato fries. We have had much better for much less.

At the end of the night, I drove the almost 2 hours from Connecticut to Northampton, Massachusetts to Nic's aunt's house where we stayed the night. It was pouring the entire drive with semi-trucks passing me constantly.

It was worth the drive though. Nic's aunt (who is one the coolest people in the world) made up beds for all of us and we slept like babies, after I stopped coughing.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 - Manhattan (Day 1, Part 2)

The Brooklyn Story

Settling in for the night with a violent movie and pizza and breadsticks when one of Matt's room mates Alva returns home. Alva is a transplant from Eaton Rapids, Michigan and as a converted Manhattanite, we ask his for his take on the Brooklyn gig that we skipped. 'Ah man, Brooklyn is where it's at on a Sunday night'. Huh? Everywhere else in the country...ok, the Midwest, everything is closed on Sunday. Even in Chicago, the city shuts down as people prepare for the coming week. That apparently is not so in Brooklyn where the best night is Sunday and especially around 10pm to 11pm about the time when would have been starting. Not to mention that the venue where we were booked is supposed to be one of the Brooklyn hot spots where bands like ours are discovered. Manhattan, he tells us, is where the club scene is at. Brooklyn is where indie bands are discovered and the night that we missed and went to Atlantic City, is one of the best nights to play. Salt in the wound for sure, but not the end of the world.

My Die Hard Review 

 

As previously mentioned, before Tuesday, I had only watched Die Hard on basic cable television in snippets. That meant that classic catch-phrases that the movie is built upon never had the impact they were supposed to have. It's strange to consider how integrally important profanity can actually be in a film. Within the context of the heightened reality of Die Hard, it is essential to the awesomeness of the dialogue and in particular, Bruce Willis' character.

For anyone who has never seen Die Hard, it is your quintessential 80's one man against a bunch of baddies action movie. Bruce Willis is John McClain, an NYPD cop visiting his estranged wife in California for Christmas. This of course happens the same day that a small terrorist organization led by Alan Rickman, seeks to extort the multi-billion dollar company that Mrs. McClain happens to work for. McClain of course is the only person who can stop them because they are trained professionals from Germany. Anyway, the rest is a lot of shooting and swearing and movie references all edited into an entertaining package that sets the standard for two sequels and many similar action movies to follow.

Director John McTiernan has helmed similar projects like my favorite Tom Clancy adaptation 'The Hunt for Red October', 'The 13^th Warrior', the remake of 'Rollerball', and the remake of 'The Thomas Crown Affair'. Given some of the other movies on his IMDB roster, Die Hard and Hunt for Red October are clear highlights of his career. But what makes this movie so special? This movie has everything if you are looking for that cliché action blockbuster glorifying violence starring a man with a hairy chest. Bruce Willis plays a heightened version of himself, Alan Rickman plays sinister so well, and then there are a bunch of blonde, bulky actors speaking bad German ('Macht Schnell!' 'Shiza!')who are designed to be expendable in all sorts of interesting ways. Bruce Willis could shoot them through the table, or he could shoot them as they come out of the elevator, or he could throw an exploding chair down an elevator shaft at them. The slow motion camera work is saved for critical moments, the film lightly satirizes everybody from the media to the LAPD to the FBI except for the NYPD, and it includes appearances by some 'Hey, that guy!' character actors.

If you are into the action genre and want to see the hero get bloody before he saves the day, Die Hard is your movie. Enjoy.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 – Manhattan (Day 1)

Manhattan early in the morning is a scary and surreal place. The bars are open until 4am and you can bet there are still plenty of people roaming about at 1am when we find a parking spot. There are also rats. Big rats that dig through the trash, skittering in packs and slinking into the gutter when the light or people get too close.

To our good fortune, Eric has a friend Matt who lives in Manhattan and has enough room for us to stay on his floor. During the day, Nic and Eric head to Times Square to shoot more of our Kickstarter video while I hang out at Matt's to catch up on blogging and email.

Around 3pm, my blood sugar level has hit the crisis point and I am forced onto the street to scrounge for food. I don't think to wake Matt to grab a key to the apartment because I figure Nic and Eric already have one...or they would have called me, right? More on that later.

Anyway, after wandering several blocks past a few parks and tons of trash and graffiti, I buy a gyro combo with fries and a drink for $6! It doesn't get any cheaper here. I take a seat on a worn bench in the park across the street, start munching on the fries, when I notice a squirrel that has already eyed the food in my lap. So this squirrel keeps inching closer and closer until he's about a foot away from my fries on the bench. I bark at him to scare him away. But this is no Michigan squirrel. Manhattan squirrels are fearless scavengers conditioned to constant human interaction. Next thing I know, he's creeping up behind me, then from the other side, then by the bench again. I must have scared this squirrel off at least five times before he left me and my meal alone. In the meantime, he disturbed my peaceful meal and made me paranoid that my fries were going to disappear up a tree.

While waiting for Nic and Eric to return at coffee shop across the street from Matt's, Eric sends me a text asking if Matt gave me a key. 'No,' I reply, now a little worried. Turns out, I missed Matt by minutes who did not give a key to Eric or Nic and the keys to the van with all of our equipment is locked inside...and Matt is working in Brooklyn.

While I chill with an almond croissant, Nic and Eric take a taxi to Brooklyn and back to pick up the key from Matt. It takes two cabbies turning them down before they jump in the third, shut the door, and announce their destination.

We make it on time to set up for our 45 minute set at The Local 269 (sounds like a fire station but it is not), but by the time Eric finds a new parking spot, we play for much less. I play on the house kit consisting of an old, beat up Slingerland set clearly picked out of the garbage on a stage so tiny that I am hitting my elbows on the wall every time I turn to perform a fill. Not a ton of people at The Local 269 before 8pm, but we manage to sell a single.

We return to Matt's to hang out and avoid spending more money.

Pictures and more stories on the next blog including my review of watching 'Die Hard' for the first time, it its entirety and completely uncensored by daytime cable.

Monday, May 16, 2011 - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

They charge for wireless internet at Cesar's Palace! I guess it should be obvious that nothing is free at a hotel with a casino, but really! After saying our goodbyes to Tami and the retirees by the slot machines, we head to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It worked in our favor to skip Brooklyn and take the night off. Eric's voice is doing better and we only have to back track an hour to Phili as opposed to several hours.

While Nic and Eric shoot another section of our Kickstarter video by the Liberty Bell competing with every tourist and school group for maybe 10 feet of sight line, I spend some time writing my reflections of the Liberty Bell experience. The Liberty Bell is significantly smaller than I ever imagined it to be, maybe 4 feet tall with a 7 or 8 foot circumference at the base of the bell. A replica of the bell was used as a symbol for the Suffragette movement at the beginning of the 20^th Century and John Phillip Sousa composed the 'Liberty Bell March' which was then used as the theme song to 'Monty Python's Flying Circus'. Even visiting on a Monday afternoon, there are literally hundreds of people just within the hour we are there, tourists from all over the world wandering through the hall taking pictures of and with this important artifact.

Eric filming Nic by the Liberty Bell

For the record, people in Philadelphia do not know how to drive, walk, or park. Pedestrians casually jaywalk in the street and through intersections when the light says stop constantly and drivers are more than happy to honk for the tiniest driving transgression. Also received our first parking ticket after returning from the Liberty Bell. We were 3 minutes late! Philadelphia seems to be a great city to travel through, by jet pack.

Lunch was at Jim's Steaks on South Street, one of many traditional Phili Cheese Steak eateries I'm sure. But we are not just here for a cheese steak sandwich, I have a personal connection to this place. Turns out that in the 1970's, my mother in law won several high profile eating competitions including one at Jim's Steaks in 1978 where she set a Guinness World Record by devouring 11 sandwiches in 1 ½ hours. It took almost decade for the record to be broken. I have been informed by her daughter that she participated in eating competitions as she was a poor college student in need of funds. A large frame including several pictures of her from this competition and another where she ate 23 bun-less hotdogs in 3 minutes and 10 seconds at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia hangs in the middle of framed autographs and pictures from notable film and sports celebrities. Feel free to follow this link if you think I am making this up. http://eatfeats.com/lynda-kuerth.html

The traditional sandwich features chopped steak, Cheese Whiz, and grilled onions on a sub bun. Needless to say, we were full after one.

Linda Kuerth Trophy Wall

Half a sandwich to go

Wearing a vintage Jim's Steaks T-shirt, hand-me-down from the victor herself

We played at a tiny club called The Raven for a handful of people. An hour and half set for a beer and a venue t-shirt was not much compensation, but the bartender was incredibly nice and sympathetic to our situation. Finishing at 10:30pm, we promptly packed up and headed into Manhattan as the New Jersey Turnpike was finally non-congested. 

Nic walking into The Raven Lounge

Me soundchecking the banjo.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Sunday was a day of drastically changing plans and dramatic surprises...and roughly 8 hours riding in the mini-van.

Breakfast downstairs at the Hilton consisted of a buffet spread and custom made omelets compliments of our new friend Carlos. After relaxing back in the room and catching up with our respective wives and girlfriends, we headed out of Maryland toward our show in Brooklyn.

If you are following the band tour online, you may have noticed that we are scheduled to play in the New York City area twice. Sunday in Brooklyn and Tuesday in Manhattan with Philadelphia nestled in between on Monday. You may ask, 'Why would they play Philadelphia in between gigs NYC?' I'll tell you...I have no idea. But I digress.

Before we leave Maryland, Eric and Nic determine that they would like to swim in the Atlantic Ocean. A state park on the way charges $6 for admission, but they are determined to see the ocean for free. Instead, we head down a road marked 'Private Drive', park in an open area, and walk down to a private beach for the citizens of the small neighborhood we have invaded. I say we, and I mean Eric and Nic. I stayed in the van in case someone called the police. Turns out Nic and Eric were so nonchalant that everyone virtually ignored them. Eric and Nic got to swim in the Atlantic Ocean, and we didn't have to pay to park.

Then we get on the New Jersey Turnpike to Brooklyn. We have since learned that driving into New York on Sunday evening is one of the worst times to drive because everyone who left the city for the weekend is now coming back in. We are crawling down the expressway which is also under construction I might add, moving about 5 miles per hour, mile after mile. No more mountains but over six lanes of bumper to bumper traffic. It is clear that we are not going to make the gig on time, but do we want to play later? Start playing at 10pm or 11pm when we arrive after driving for nine hours?

Ultimately we decide to skip the gig and hang out with Eric's wife Tammy who happened to be in Atlantic City, New Jersey for a medical conference. I should mentioned that this was a very laborious decision that was not made quickly.

Atlantic City for me is like Pleasure Island in Pinocchio where all of the boys are smoking cigars and tempting Pinocchio to do the same before they all turn into donkeys. It is all of the high production values and hospitality you would expect from Walt Disney with none of the class or behavioral expectations for its guests. Not that Disney has the most well behaved guests, but here, bad behavior is expected and encouraged especially since everything can be charged back to your hotel room.

We eat a late dinner at Johnny Rocket's and Eric dances with the servers to 'Staying Alive'. After that, I head back to the hotel room and sleep while Nic, Eric, Tammy, and Tammy's roommate Jenny have some more fun. Sadly, neither Eric or Nic win the $5,000 needed to finance the rest of our tour at the Blackjack table, but we do get a night off from performing, sleeping on the floor of a hotel at Cesar's Palace.

Just like Rome

Music on the Road

We listen to a lot of music while driving around. Sure we all have our own MP3 players to catch up on NPR podcasts and personal preferences, but we also listen to a bunch of music collectively. Below is a sampling of just some of the music we've been listening to on this trip and on several of our previous road trips.

'Stop Making Sense' by The Talking Heads

This is actually the soundtrack of the film by the same name. Directed by Jonathan Demme in 1984, the movie is in some ways a live concert of The Talking Heads in their prime, but it really is a spectacle both visually and aurally far beyond that. Below is an excerpt from the film. We cover this song 'Psycho Killer' and another classic Talking Heads song from later in the film, 'Burning Down the House'.

'Graceland' by Paul Simon

Paul Simon's 1987 masterpiece includes hits such as 'You Can Call Me Al'. Though we do not cover any songs from this album (yet), I'm sure we will soon. This is also my shameless plug for the hilarious music video featuring Chevy Chase. Enjoy!

'Steam Powered Aereo Plain' by John Hartford

This is not an easy album to find. I think we actually listen to a cd that was copied from the original record. Anyway, we cover the title track from this record. If you've never heard of the late John Hartford before, look him up. He's was (and still is) a bluegrass music legend and a satirical trouble maker.

'August Roads E.P.' by Red Tail Ring

Red Tail Ring is actually a local act from Kalamazoo, Michigan, but their music, which is heavily inspired by John Hartford (see above) is absolutely intoxicating. There are only 5 songs on this E.P. but they should have more music available on their website: www.redtailring.com. Only two people in the group, but it is perfectly tuned and balanced progressive-bluegrass music. If you like Nickel Creek, you should check these guys out.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Perhaps it was sleeping on a hard floor next to an open window or perhaps it was some nameless person in my band who plays bass, but Saturday was the day I officially started losing my voice. By the end of Saturday, it had turned into a shredded, hoarse, crackle, incapable of singing backup vocals beyond a squeak.

Saturday was also laundry day and exactly one week before the supposed Rapture and the end of the world. Seriously, I'm not making this up. Check out this story from NPR: http://www.npr.org/2011/05/07/136053462/is-the-end-nigh-well-know-soon-enough

Fun at the Laundry Mat

While Nic and Eric were heating up some soup with a propane stove in the laundry mat parking lot in Williamsport, a local kid in his early teens wandered up to Eric and asked what he was doing. Eric explained that he was in a band traveling from city to city. Eric asked the kid if he was waiting for someone to which the kid replied 'Yeah, my foster family'. Eric asked if the kid had lived in Williamsport long and the kid replied that he had only lived here for about a year. His foster family was nice, but he was originally from West Philadelphia.

For anyone reading this blog who doesn't know where I'm going with this, West Philadelphia was where Will Smith's character on 'The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' had moved from before relocating to Bel-Air. For anyone living under a rock or possibly not conscious during the early 90's, this show was a pop-culture icon.

Needless to say, the mention of 'West Philadelphia' was enough to start playing the 'Fresh Prince' theme song in Eric's head. Eric jokingly asked if the kid lived with his aunt and uncle and if he knew Carlton (another character from the show). Not surprisingly, the kid didn't seem to get the joke (he's only 13). Then strangest detail was that right around that time, a few of the kid's peers suddenly rolled up on bicycles. Per Eric, the kid suddenly switched into 'gansta' mode, outrageously posturing to the other kids with hard street talk and gestures. After the kids rode off, the kid went back to talking to Eric nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

The Ruddy Duck

After a several hour drive, we arrived at The Ruddy Duck in Maryland. Similar to but slightly larger than the Bullfrog Brewery, The Ruddy Duck has a family dining atmosphere with segregated dining area from the bar. Even though we arrived late, we set up within a half hour and rock the venue. We start with some slow covers to appease the dinner crowd before working our way into our actually set, including covers that we've never played at all. Van Morrison's 'Brown Eyed Girl'? Sure, we know that one. We'll even rock a Bob Dylan cover we just learned maybe two days earlier.

The food and beer were delicious but my cold symptoms prevented me from drinking more than half of my porter.

The best part of the evening came when Carlos, who booked the gig for us, hooked us up with a free room at the Hilton. Were it not for Carlos, we would have been camping out in the rain. I should explain, the Hilton is actually located in the same parking lot as The Ruddy Duck and his family apparently owns the hotel. Regardless, it was an incredibly compassionate gesture on his part and can not thank Carlos enough for supplying us with comfortable beds, air-conditioning, and a shower. Sleeping on a real mattress seems like such a luxury now. 

The Ruddy Duck - Ruddy means Red, but we're in New England, so it's 'Ruddy'

Friday, May 13, 2011

Lots of excitement Friday. Within an hour driving out of West Virginia, we rescued a dog, averted disaster by preventing the van from breaking down, visited an incredible waterfall, and careened down some more scary steep hills.

Chapter 1, Blackwater Falls:

Not as large as Niagra, the Blackwater Falls in West Virginia just outside of the town of Thomas Gorgeous, natural water falls nestled within the forested mountains of West Virginia. The sloping stairs which have been rebuilt since their initial construction in 1962 offer scenically distant and stunningly close vantage points to gaze at the natural beauty of this fall. Even in the rain which began to drench us as we took videos and pictures, the Blackwater Falls were a welcome respite from the road.

Chapter 2, 'Gus the Cocker Spaniel':

Still leaving West Virginia, we stopped in at a gas station when Eric notices a small dog running around in the middle of the two lane highway. Having the big heart that he does, he runs into the street to retrieve the soaking wet, dirty blond cocker spaniel, walking it by its collar to the gas station. The name on the tag says 'Gus', but the phone number leads to a voice mail. We face a dilemma. What happens if we can't get a hold of the owner? Do we leave the dog by gas station? Do we take the dog with us? We wait as Eric towels off the dog with his Drake shirt, asking customers coming in an out if they know the dog's owner before a middle aged townie stops by to assist Eric. She calls the phone number again and reaches the owner who thankfully retrieves Gus within a matter of minutes. Dog rescued, owner happy, Eric's conscious clear, band Karma positive.

Chapter 3,'The Smoking Van':

Still making our way out of the God-forsaken, hilly wilderness that is West Virginia, Nic and Eric notice that there is smoke wafting from under the hood of the van. We pull over on a gravel shoulder pitched at a slightly smaller angle than the hills we were driving on to examine our situation. No warning lights have come on to indicate an issue. Coolant is full, oil is slightly low but not drastically, and there are no other obvious signs of engine malfunction. After letting the engine rest for a few minutes, we coast down the rest of the mountain before stopping at a gas station to top off the oil. Extra oil appears to temporarily fix the problem, but the van is still making unnatural and strained noises.

Chapter 4, 'Redemption at the Bullfrog Brewery':

We arrive early to The Bullfrog Brewery in Williamsport, Pennsylvania in a tired vehicle. The brewery has a cozy, family dining atmosphere with hard wood floors, a polished, wooden bar, and shiny brewing tanks all around. After a delicious complimentary dinner (Cesar Salad for me, enormous burgers for Eric and Nic) with a tasty, smoky porter to drink, we set up in front of the brewing tanks where there used to be a dinner table just moments before.

We have an incredible night, again feeding off the energy of a very responsive audience. We sell over $100 in merchandise which on top of our generous guarantee, more than makes up for West Virginia and are allowed to sleep on the floor of the banquet room above the main bar.

We closed up the night with two pitchers of beer from the bar and a full growler. The super friendly staff hang out with us until the early morning when we finally resign to our sleeping bags. Something tells me we'll be back to Williamsport in the near future.

An awesome mural on the wall outside the Bullfrog Brewery. Local legendaries of Williamsport.

Thursday, May 12, 2011 - Thomas, West Virginia

Before driving to West Virginia for the worst gig of the tour (more explanation to follow), our day began as a wonderfully rejuvenating respite from the road. Jess from 'Duke Junior' (see previous post) joined us for breakfast at the local co-op restaurant 'Casa Neuva' in downtown Athens. Having dined at the 'Casa' on our last visit to Athens, we knew to expect a delicious meal and coffee with somewhat absent minded service courtesy of their volunteers. I had a Deluxe Scrambler with eggs, black-bean salsa, lots of fresh vegetables, another mild salsa, and a side of home fries. My cup of dark roast coffee provided the caffeine and I was ready for another day.

Driving through West Virginia is interesting because unlike Colorado, you do not see the mountains before you start driving in them. Before we knew it, we were crawling and careening up and down some of the steepest, windiest roads I have ever driven on, walled in by enormous, lush trees, and grass covered cliffs protected only by a thin guard rail. Amusingly, the speed limit is 55 miles per hour, but in a weighted down mini-van complete with car top carrier, it is nearly impossible to drive any faster than 30 miles per hour. Clear skies and a dry road kept driving relatively fright free despite the obvious wear on our vehicle.

Our destination was 'The Purple Fiddle', a cafe/music venue/hostel nestled in the tiny, former mining town of Thomas, West Virgina. The authentic, antique vibe inside and outside including posters for tons of upcoming acts immediately removes any reservations one might have. So what if the town only has 400 people? So what if we are coming in out of season? So what if 25 people was considered great attendance for the bell-dancing act the night before?

The food was delicious and free (roast-beef vege wrap with blue corn chips), they have free wifi in the venue, and they were providing us a place to stay just above the venue itself.

As performance time lurked around the corner, it was clear that a crowd was not going to come. In fact, nobody came, save for one person within our final 20 minutes. Needless to say, we ended the show hours early after the employees mentioned they were ready to turn off the lights. We concluded that if 'The Purple Fiddle' were located in virtually any larger town or city, it would be the happening hipster hangout. As it happened, it was a stopping place for hipster travelers and musicians such as ourselves that apparently drew next to no local audience.

After packing up, we watching a thunder-storm roll in through the trees and relaxed, making up for our 'non' gig. An early bed time followed by a morning of sleeping in was certainly the silver lining to a disappointing show.

Our favorite Athens breakfast hangout 'Casa Neuva'

Outside the Purple Fiddle

Inside the Purple Fiddle, from the stage