Lest I Forget.

We have just finished our last show, and are now waiting for a band called, You, You're Awesome, to finish the night off but they are having technical difficulties at the moment.  So, I would like to take the time to invite you all to tomorrow (Friday) night's show.  It is at the Firebird and we are playing with a band called Cursive.   It may be sold out by the end of the night so I would encourage you to get there early.  I think we will go on around nine or so.  Hope to see you all there, and thank you for indulging me in this experiment of mine. 

NYC, Day Two

Presently I am sitting in Mediterranean restaurant in Carrboro, NC. I have separated from the pack long enough to enjoy a quiet meal and post some pictures of our second day in Manhattan

The highlight of my trip meant dodging taxis and yelling at pedestrians to get out of the way






Brooklyn house party where a few of us drank way too much red wine. (Photo by Giacomo)



What happens when Steve drinks too much red wine.



What happens when I drink too much red wine...arty photos on a Brooklyn rooftop, including my feet, Steve and McKinley, and an unsuspecting stranger.

To New York, My Love!

It is Tuesday and we have just arrived in Richmond, VA to play a show at a club called The Triple. It is rainy and sleepy here, meaning that we have once again returned to the mundane. By now, New York feels like a distant memory, a favorite holiday of years long gone to be wistfully remembered but never repeated. Of course I am being dramatic, and overly sentimental, but New York has that effect on me. It is my second favorite city in the world, falling just short of my true love, Paris. I love New York for the myriad bodegas that line every street and refuse to give way no matter how redundant they may become. I love New York because it makes you feel like you are a part of a greater something, even if you are not. I love New York simply because it is. We left the city on Sunday night by way of the Lincoln Tunnel with it's beautiful view of Manhattan dancing above the Hudson river despite the midnight hour. Today, even with the distraction of touring, I feel like I am missing out on the opportunity to live unhindered by expectation that is afforded to all who reside there.

Now to let you in on the fun

We arrived in Manhattan on Thursday night and played to a small, but appreciative crowd at a club called Fontana's. Part of the stress that comes with playing NYC is parking a fifteen foot van and trailer combo, but luckily we have a Stephen who is a parallel parking savant. Strangely though, as he expressly admits, he cannot parallel park his Honda Accord back home. I wish I had a picture to prove his skill but we were so taken aback by his stunning accomplishment that I simply forgot to take one. Even the hardened Manhattan door man was impressed enough to let a "wow." slip from his surly lips.

After the show we met McKinley and Adam, who are friends with Kiley and would be our hosts for the next three days. They are the kind of people who turn touring into a pleasurable adventure. Adam, even with his complete derangement of the mind, is one of the most wonderful person you could ever hope to meet. If ever you have the pleasure of running into the man below, be certain to pick his brain for as long as he will allow, his reality is not the same as yours or mine.

The following day we were to play at The Annex, also in Manhattan, but the booking agent dropped us from the show three days prior due to the fact that the owner double booked the date. It was disappointing that the venue buyer decided to drop the traveling band while keeping the locals on the show, but as it was, we had a day off in New York. And what a day it became.

To alleviate the burden of the van and trailer from our minds for the next few days we decided the best idea would be to ditch our gear at a house on the Upper East Side, where we would be playing the next day, and then ditch our van where ever we could find a spot. We expected this to be a stressful process but never expected that we were about to experience the most exciting and illegal move ever to be pulled in a four wheel vehicle. So, with Adam sitting in the front passenger seat, and Stephen driving, we set out for the eighty some odd blocks we had to go down 2nd Avenue. Adam played the role entertaining tour guide exceptionally, but, unfortunately for our cumbersome van that did not include the ability to adequately alert Stephen to upcoming turns. And that is what led to our adventure on the Queensboro Bridge.

Just as we were about to turn onto 61st Street, Adam realized that we were in a lane that would spiral us down into the hellish gridlock that occurs during the rush-hour exodus from Manhattan to Queens. No matter how loud his cries of "Do it, GO!" grew, it would have been impossible to swerve through five lanes of traffic. At this point in the day, Adam was already late for a work related appointment and this disaster would only have made worse his already tardy status. The tighter we lodged ourselves into traffic, the more irrational he became, culminating with his decision that the only thing to be done was to make a u-turn, on a bridge, in rush-hour traffic, with this. Having just met him the day before we all laughed, not thinking he would actually follow through with such a ridiculous stunt. But, after moving no more than twenty yards in five minutes, he jumped out of the van saying, "Yep, this is going to happen."

Wearing no more than Umbros and a shirt that read "Batman Sucks" he exited the van and calmly outstretched his arms stopping all traffic, nearly making me a believer in miracles, something twenty years of Catholic schooling failed to accomplish. It is no lie when I say that he cleared a path large enough for a 747 to taxi onto, giving Stephen ample room to maneuver our vehicle from East to West, on a bridge, in rush-hour traffic, again, with this. Then, just as quickly as he jumped out, he was back in the van and we drove on. The most amazing part was the fact that in New York we were able to complete this act without one irate driver using their horn to threaten our escape.

Now, I would like to think that in a city where the unexpected is expected, and even ignored, that those who witnessed a black conversion van with a black trailer in tow complete a u-turn on a busy bridge, sat at the dinner table that night and said, "Honey, you would not believe what happened on the way into work today..."

I wish I had a video of "The Queensboro Turn" as it will most certainly be known, but all of this happened in less than a minute. So all I have is this picture of us perpendicularly taking up space on a six lane bridge in New York. Be certain to study the stern look of admiration on the kind Middle Eastern man who helped facilitate "The Queensboro Turn."

I have more to come from our second day, including a great bike ride I took through time square, but the band before us just announced they have just one more song left so that will have to wait 'till tomorrow.

Some more from our first day of adventures...

The view of the Queensboro Bridge from the house party

Central Park during the first nice day of Spring

It was 75 and sunny all day

The speed of New York

The view as you exit the Lincoln Tunnel

I was hoping to post an update concerning Columbus, OH where The Ohio State University is located, but nothing remarkable has ever happened to us (or anyone else as far as I know) in Columbus and this past trip was no exception.  We have played there three times now and have yet to experience a good show.  Ohio University places the definite article "The" at the front of its name as if to proclaim it's superiority over other state run universities, but I assure you that it is no different than any other college town we have visited over the past three years.  So, unless you delight in the barbarism that is college football, I cannot suggest a visit to the buckeye state.

To quickly recap the days between then and now...

On Tuesday we played another forgettable show in Pittsburgh and then, using the light speed button that came standard on our new van, we headed toward Philadelphia directly after the show.

In Philadelphia we were supposed to play a live set at Drexel's radio station in order to promote the show later that night at the M Room in Fish Town.  However, after loading half of our equipment into their live room we realized that once we set up, ran cables, and sound checked everything, we would have missed the very show we were trying to promote, and decided to cancel.  We now had two hours to kill and decided to spend it by filling our already unstable digestive systems with an authentic Philly Cheese Steak.  More specifically, Pat's Cheese Steaks, who is credited with inventing the sandwich back in the 1930's.  

I wanted to capture this uniquely Philadelphia experience but it was raining, so this was the best I could do...

And the much more ostentatious competition across the street, Geno's...

In Philadelphia a family friend, Matt Baumann, came out to the show whom I had not seen in years.   It was wonderful to catch up and also enjoy a brief escape from the band.  The show went well for it being relatively early and we were able to meet some very friendly Aussies who were doing a residency during the month of April at the M Room with their band Youth Group.  From Philadelphia we drove straight to Stephen's family's house, just outside of New York City, were we all got a very good night sleep due to his Aunt Donna's excellent hospitality.

New York was next and I have a very harrowing adventure to relay concerning our first 48 hours in Manhattan but I am too exhausted from said adventure to continue at this point.  Tomorrow my friends.

 

We are leaving Chicago behind today and running as fast as we can to Richmond, IN.  We always enjoy Chicago, especially since we get to stay with Stefen, but none of us have packed for the Windy City. Besides, our host in Richmond is promising us wiffleball and barbecue.  

In Chicago we learned that Stefen can fly...

And ate at a Diner across from Big Brother...

Lessons Learned...

We have just finished a sound check in Champaign, IL (John Vogl so graciously pointed out that I spelled the city like the sparkling wine in the last post) and I feel I must convey to you a very important lesson I have just learned.  On only our second day of tour, I have just been through a most embarrassing situation involving bathroom etiquette.  Mom, if you wish to turn away now, I cannot fault you.  

As I was doing my business on la toilette (french makes it refined, right?) I had the unfortunate pleasure of being walked in on.  Initially, I felt guilty for putting a complete stranger through the terror of witnessing what is never spoken of, and always preformed behind closed doors. However, he walked in so quickly that a shout of warning would have come far too late.  Instead, with my dignity completely stolen away from me by this no-knocking, intrusive mouth breather, all I could muster was, "Sorry, I thought I locked the door.
What followed next was a punishment that far outweighed the crime.  In either a fit of rage, or from just plain shock, he left the door wide open and walked away.  Now, this was not the typical restroom reserved for only one gender, but a single water closet that opened into a well trafficked hallway just off the main room.  Oh, the horror I endured!  What was I supposed to do?  I have rehearsed other scenarios in my head a thousand times over, like, "What if that pretty girl at the bar decides to make her way toward me?"  But this?  Not once have I mentally envisioned this truly worst case scenario.  All could do at the moment was hope that another passerby would not make worse an already agonizing life experience.  In the end I did the only thing any respectable gentleman would do, I took the time to clean myself up and very cooly pulled up my jeans and closed the door myself.  After all, we are on a 15 day trip, and the last thing I need is another dirty pair of underwear.

After washing my hands I checked the door that I could have sworn I locked not five minutes earlier to find that I had indeed locked it.  The doorknob was broken, and although I locked the inside handle, the outside failed to obey in the same mannor.  So, dear reader, the lesson to be learned is, always check both sides of a door when occupying a single bathroom in a busy club. 

Pre Tour/Day 1

Before the start of every tour I feel the need to have lunch with a friend, or drinks with some other. I think I do this to remind myself that I do have a life outside of the band, because while we are on the road everything else seems to disappear, both for the better and the worse. Before leaving for this one I wanted to see little baby Ann(e?) and Kathleen. I had not seen either of them since the day after she was born and wanted to see the little one with her with her eyes open.

While both Kath and Ann(e?) look beautiful, crazy Gracie in the background might be my favorite part of this picture.

After seeing the two of them, and before one last practice, I rushed over to Ryan's house to help him hitch the old trailer to the new van--more on the van later. At practice we ran through a new song that we are still working the bugs out of called, "Wearing the Collar." The other purpose of the practice was to make absolutely certain that all of our equipment was working, and to inventory all of it before stuffing it into the trailer. Over the next 15 days we will be loading and unloading this equipment everyday. Think Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the mountain.

On Thursday I wanted to get one last bike ride in before leaving town so I rode down to the neighborhood coffee house on my bike that Jack Stevens has so graciously set up for me.

Compared to past tours, I have experienced much more trepidation about leaving town because I have just moved into an apartment in South City by myself, and feel the need to nest, as Kiley put it. For the past year I have been staying at friends houses (thank you Tim, Kath, and Brian) because I have been extremely weary about settling down due to the amount of time we spend on the road. But, I finally did and I for the first time in my life I am concerned with wall clocks.

We were to leave at noon that day, but Eric was trying to find a cure for his CDIF infection, and we ended up leaving at one instead. We used the extra hour to fawn over our new van which includes, but is not limited to, recessed mood lighting, a DVD player, cup holders that can both cool and heat any beverage, ample foot room (oh the foot room!), a back bench that mechanically folds out to a full size bed, captain chairs, built in headphone jacks, and much much more.

The first half of the five hour drive to chicago were spent exploring all of the nooks and crannies of the van. And as the Cardinals played on the radio I fell into the most blissful nap I have ever enjoyed in a tour van. Did I mention the foot room? We arrived late to the venue and loaded directly on stage to preform a sound check with one of the nicest sound guys we have ever run into. For what is it worth, The Abbey Pub is two for two when is comes to sound guys, and having a polite, hardworking, sound guy means a lot when you are on the road.

The Abbey Pub. This will probably be the only picture of a club I post, because by the third day they all start looking the same.

After the Abbey it was off to our friend Stefen's house, who has the hardest hardwood floor I have ever slept on, and plays in a band called Yea Big and Kid Static. We went on a midwest tour with them last summer and have stayed friends with him since. He writes Haiku's about scandalous things, and secretly wishes for (*edit*) the populace to rise up and overthrow the current government (even though he voted for the person in office!?)

In this video Stefen is the smaller box...err robot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alsWsZ6x6W4

The Anatomy of Tour

During a time when the President of the United States is pleading with us to invest in the banks again, rather than stuff our life savings under our pillow tops, the six of us that make up Gentleman Auction House have decided to pump hundreds of gallons of fuel into an inefficient conversion van, hitch a 1500 pound trailer to the back, and drive thousands of miles across the country. Would anyone else care to join me in throwing my hat over a windmill?

For those of you who are unaware, the act of touring is not a vacation. In reality, it is a series of sometimes exciting, but mostly monotonous ground-hog days, consisting of hours of waiting and limited sleep. The poor, haggard, victim of insomnia may sympathize with the plight of an independent band on tour. It is a place where the minutia of the day is dissected ad nausea so as to extract any sort of entertainment from the most mundane of activities. Once, on a bumpy Kentucky highway, I watched Eric convince his fiance Nicole to balance a Styrofoam cup full of soda on her head for no less than twenty miles. The stunt was a success, and we were entertained.

For the next 15 days, I will be in direct proximity to five other people, some of us days away from a shower. Much of that time will be spent within the relatively tight confines of our seven passenger van, trying hard not to pollute the already stagnant air with our own fetid gasses. The ability to appease each other while still holding on tightly to the notion of individuality within the larger group setting is a balancing act we are all still trying to perfect.

However, it is not my goal to discuss the hardships of close quarter living, but to document as much as possible, what we do on a daily basis. So, without further digressions, this is how Gentleman Auction House goes on tour.