Hope For Agoldensummer has spent the last 2 weeks hitting the road with a vengeance. So forceful were we in our travels that our beloved touring van, Betty Bang, now sits in a wrecker lot somewhere in Ohio awaiting her final voyage... to the scrapyard. It is an amazing sight to see your wheel fly past your van at 5am, a glowing red orb sailing down a dark highway, whilst you struggle to stop a vehicle that has lost its ability to brake. Luckily, we were the only ones on the highway and were flanked on both sides by pastureland. We rolled to a stop, and after several attempts, extinguished the flames shooting out from the wheel hub. While the sun rose we searched the ditches for our wayward, molten wheel. We were towed back to Dayton and sold Betty for a crisp one hundred dollar bill. A shame to see her go for just one benjamin, but the damage was considerable. We rented a tiny car and were able to pack everything except a tom drum, 3 pillows, and an accordion case. We never found the wheel.
So fraught with peril was this tour, that we thought you might like to see what a tour can potentially cost. Or even going on vacation, for that matter. In 17 days on the road we spent over $1000 on gasoline. We decided to make this an open-book tour, so you can see exactly what we earned and spent. You can see it all on this nerdy accounting chart I made: http://www.hopeforagoldensummer.com/hopepandl2008.pdf

I'd like to say we've seen it all, but I know there is more to come. The important part is that we lived to tell the entire touring tale, in much greater detail, with bitterness & humor & tired eyes.
...So, let us begin at the beginning as most stories do...


4/18/08 NUCI’S SPACE (Athens, GA)

…In which the protagonists drink evil spirits & are forced to remember the benefit of practice…

We kicked off our tour by playing a benefit show in our hometown. Nuci’s Space (www.nuci.org) is the beneficiary, but they then bestow these earnings onto the broke-ass musical population of Athens, GA. They provide us with low cost counseling and medical exams. Plus, they have REALLY clean practice rooms. In one of those rooms they had supplied all the evening’s performers with mounds of yummy food. So I fluctuated between listening to the UGA talent in the concert room and grazing on snacks in the practice room. Page brought a teeny tiny bottle of Jim Beam BLACK. We passed it around, and I just want to write and tell you not to bother. That beverage conclusively tastes like some kind of automotive fuel. It burned me bad. Real bad. I ate a cookie about it and then we took to the stage. We played okay, but not great. In fact, it made me nervous how loose the show was since we were leaving on tour the next day and we should maybe be playing a bit tighter before we take this thing on the road.

4/19/08 CRIMINAL RECORDS (Atlanta, GA)

…. In which the author does not get what she wants, but does receive aural massage…

Criminal is a killer record store that has always supported HFags. They were a big part of organizing National Record Store Day. I roamed around L5P and found a dress that WILL be mine one day. It is a lil’ piece from the 50s. Fits me like a condom but has stains and needs a bit of repair. Stefan’s was asking $65. I asked the clerk to knock it down. He said, “I’ll give you $8 off”. I say, “I was thinking more like HALF off.” And with a swish of his hips and dreadlocks he said, “No. Have a good day” and then he swiped up MY dress and walked away. No further negotiations whatsoever. If he’d let me explain he could have learned the facts, which is that no one else can fit into that dress but me. Only so many people are built as scrawnily as I. Many will try to fit that dress, but none shall succeed. And so it will just hand their on the rack like I’m sure it has hung for many months or years, And everytime I am in Atlanta I am going to go try it on and attempt to renegotiate until one day I slowly break that clerk down to half price. It is blue and white striped, with a mesh bodice, and bows with white pom-poms. That dress and I are meant to be together.

We went on around 7pm in the back of the store. The initial screeching PA feedback made my fillings hurt and loosened my bowels. The soundman also seemed rather shocked and let it continue at ear-shattering volume for a bit before he returned to his senses and twisted some knobs. I find it is best when a sound person doesn’t seize up into a statue. That is just my personal preference. Later I got to see The Coathangers rock and also our friend Anna Kramer tore it up. We played better than the night before and some fair lady has posted our cover of an Aliyah & Timbaland song on youtube…

4/20/08 R3V3RB (Greensville, SC)

… In which the protagonists hear grotesque tales from a neighborhood just like their own…

This is when things got weird. When we arrived at the venue, there was a single young lad, Brantley. He was manning the joint since the owner was busy moving out of her house as just several days before she’d been very startled to find in her front yard the severed hands and feet of a woman. HUH?!?!? That is macabre. There was a general freaky buzz about the town and everyone was talking about hands & feet. And this bouncer guy, Brantley, was listening to hardcore rap really loud. He was sweet. He helped us load-in and told us not to catch his cold when we shook his hands. He was very sick. But he stayed all night.

This show had only been booked 2 weeks prior so there wasn’t much time for publicity. 10 people were there, including the cute-as-hell opening act, Noel Thrasher.

About halfway through our set I heard a bunch of stuff hit the floor, and I opened my eyes and saw bouncer Brantley stand and get all puffed up ready to fight because someone had thrown a bunch of rocks into the club and he got hit in the head. Brantley rushed outside but couldn’t find the culprit so we continued our set unfazed. Those 10 people were real sweet and bought lots of merch and then we drove off and found a motel halfway between there and Arlington, VA.

4/21/08 GALAXY HUT (Arlington, VA)

…In which the Campbell sisters meet with a generous & talented cousin after rocking the house …

Well, we woke up early to do band yoga. Deb and I on mats, and Page just on a hotel towel, sort of all interspersed between the beds and walls and other tiny hotel furniture in our $49 American Motel room in whatever town we were in. Just as Deb had led us to our 7^th Chakra, there was a loud knock on the door smacked my dear little sister square in her head as she was laid out next to the door. And a small Indian man leaned in to tell us we had 10 minutes to get the hell out. So we did.

We drove awhile and arrived in Arlington several hours before soundcheck. We roamed and grazed and window-shopped. Page and Deb went for a jog. When we showed up the place was getting pretty full and I was reminded of several things that I’d forgotten since our last trip to the Hut: The bartender not only tends bar but also runs the PA from a small mixing board beneath the bar. This place is really tiny. Anyhow, my cousin from Great Falls, VA showed up, and brought his cute friends and also my new cousin-in-law (also cute). Lars, who used to DJ for our hometown radio station, was there with friends, and he now works for the music dep’t at THE NPR, like, the main one in DC. And then there were many new faces and a few familiars. A 3-piece instrumental performed first. Sansyou. Very heavy at times, and with a killer cellist. The drummer had a std kit, plus something like 7 different pairs of congas ranging from med size down to the teeniest I’d ever seen.

We performed next and the crowd was real respectful. We usually take requests for old stuff and somebody yelled out “Malt Liquor” so we meekly attempted and mostly pulled-off a very stripped down version of ML. A lot of the songs from the 1^st album haven’t really been reworked since the boys split. They sound sparse to my ears, but that could just be my perception.

Our inebriated cousin directed us home. He and his family live in a gorgeous place out in the country surrounded by big dogs and horses. They’d blown up an air mattress for P&D and I slept on the couch. Their ornery kitties tried to wake me up, but I wasn’t havin’ it.

4/22/08 TWISTED BRANCH TEA BAZAAR (Charlottesville, VA)

…Wherein the author takes tea with a wayward epileptic…

P&D did band yoga in the driveway of cousin’s house and then we split for C-ville early to play a radio show. We got to WTJU in time to use their fabled coffee contraption. You take a small plastic pod filled with tea or coffee, lift up the lever of this machine and pace the pod under it. Then you crank the lever down onto it and hot water is forced thru making you the strongest cup of coffee in public radio history. Jeff and Chuck were our hosts. We played a bunch of songs in the studio in-between Jeff asking us questions. We were o our best behavior, so no cussing, sex or drugs took place therein. Jeff let me read a public announcement and then they let us loose in their record vault which is an amazing library of 12” and CDs. They have the best radio library I’ve ever seen. Very well taken care of. They made a copy of our show, so hopefully I can post some of it here soon. It is kinda silly cuz we were geeked out on coffee. Of, and Chuck thought we were so silly that he took us into a side studio to record a station identification bit for them to reuse. And then we departed for downtown Charlottesville.

We went first to the venue and ate yummy food. Then wandered aimlessly on the mall for hours. Page and Deb went jogging while I chatted and held hands with a perpetually homeless & epileptic Tarot reader named Ed.

Again, another small crowd. People, the fact is, is that you can get a write up in the paper, and do radio shows, but none of those things really bring out the masses. They just alert people that’ve already heard of you that you’re coming to town. What really brings people to shows is word-of-mouth.

We played for about 40 minutes and then took a 15 minute break… which turned into a never-ending break because Page started talked with a former Athenian, Carrie, about this other former Athenian who’d had it bad for both of them and used the same tactics to woo them, and as it turns out, basically uses the same game to woo all of his love interests, which is not a smart thing to do in a small town because, as I stated earlier, there is this thing called word-of-mouth and soon enough you’ll be hightailing it out of town with your bad reputation close on your heels, Which is just what this dude has had to do.

While Page and Carrie gossiped, Deb and I turned the tables on DJ Jeff and started grilling him about his major, Astronomy. He studies galaxies. Apparently there are a lot of them. Didn’t you know?

And I also got into a long conversation with two students planning to go on a trip to Peru. I extolled the virtues of the Takilli islands and coca leaves and cheap taxis. And by this time I was tipsy on raw, unfiltered saki. Page was, too, so we called it a night.

We slept in the tea bazaar on hard couches covered in Indian fabrics. Before we went to bed we watched a finished copy of our new music video, made by Jorge Torres. It is totally psychadelic and you can see it here:

We have another music video coming soon, too. It is totally amazing and epic and took many days of shooting in many locations. Very beautiful footage by Jason x 2 & Ethan at www.eikonic.com. However, I don’t think this one will be made publicly available until after the SPROCKETS FILM FEST… and oh my god what the hell is that sound our van keeps making. I am writing this on my laptop in our van, Betty Bang, and she keeps making this clanging noise underfoot.

Did you know that the USA is gorgeous? I have never spent as much time in Virginia as I am on this tour. That state’s beauty is practically boundless. They even have hedgehogs at their truck stops. And folks live in the tiniest towns you’ve never heard of and launch their boats into unfamiliar bodies of water or mow their giant bright green pastures and tend to their stock of donkeys and cattle. The barns in Greene, PA are made of bricks and have domes on top.

4/23/08 THE CAMEL (Richmond, VA)

…In which our sleep deprived heroes travel underground in search of the worlds largest natural instrument…

The three of us didn’t get any damn sleep. My heart kept waking me up with anxious beats. I think my nervous system couldn’t relax because… STOP THE VAN… DONUTS…. WHY WON’T PAGE STOP THE VAN WHEN I YELL OUT “DONUTS”. …. THERE WAS A TIME IN THIS WORLD WHEN A WOMAN COULD YELL OUT “DONUTS” AND ANOTHER WOMAN WOULD HEAR HER CRY AND STOP THE DAMN VAN ONE TIME!.... anyway, I couldn’t get to sleep because these couches we were on at the Tea Bazaar were located mere feet from big commercial kitchen appliances that have their own nervous systems and and they are always powering up and down and right and left and in and out and just when I am almost asleep the fridge begins to rumble like hungry fat man, and then I have to start all over again. This happened to all of us. Since the Tea Bazaar wasn’t going to reopen until noon, we made ourselves big pots of tea and ate dolmas and cashews. Page pronounced herself officially sick so we all did restorative yoga on the stage and then loaded out and hit the road for Richmond with a detour to Luray Caverns for to finally see, after many years of my super-peaked interest, the spectacular STALACTITE ORGAN. I will admit that Luray is a tourist trap, but if you pay that $19, you will see some amazing examples of rock columns and gorgeous stark white stalagmites. The tour underground lasts about 1.5 hours. Page stayed in the van to sleep off her sickness. Deb and I toured underground and dripped on by the cave, and lectured by the guide, and then finally got to hear the Stalactite Organ. Here’s the story: Many decades ago this electrician got permission to take an electric church organ down into the cave. He spent 2 years finding a stalactite for each piano key, that, when struck would produce the exact note of that key on the organ. Then he ran wires from each organ key to its corresponding stalactite, and when a key is hit on the organ, a signal travels down the wires and a tiny felted hammer strikes the stalactite. It sounds heavenly, Like a cross between a vibraphone and a, um, cave.

I bought a CD of a famous pianist who went down there once and played a bunch of famous piano songs. It is great. The songs are very raw and you can hear the sound of water dripping throughout the cave. I plan to schmooze them up and ask if they’ll let me record my Hallelujah song down there.

Oh, okay, so on to Richmond. We arrived at The Camel and unloaded thru the back door with gracious help from Jonathan Vassar and crewmates. After all our gear was in, one of us HFags proceeded to back the van into the spoiler of a nice new silver car while attempting to parallel-park. This was the beginning of our automotive malfunctions. The driver of the silver car got our note and found us at The Camel. We put her on the phone with our insurance agency and so on and so on.

Anyhow, after much pizza, we performed to a packed house of music-lovers and members of a ladies choir. I think they liked us, although we got a few scandalized looks from the ladies choir when I mentioned that we had brought free subversive literature on the topic of male circumcision. I guess some people think the topic is private, but we are on a mission to educate folks about it, as well as many other socio-political topics. Why on earth would you cut something off of a newly born infant? No really. Not only will the kid’s penis be smaller than it should have been, but it will be less sensitive. And when he realizes this as an adult he is gonna be pissed-as-hell! Some men spend years undergoing painful stretching using small barbells and weights, so as to “re-grow” their foreskin. Ain’t that a bitch. I have had to watch some scary videos and look at some gorey pictures of circumcisions as part of my doula/midwifery studies. I have learned so many things. For instance, did you know that it is NOT necessary to cut the umbilical cord? Nope. You can leave it (with the placenta) attached to the baby and it’ll fall away in 4 days. Did you know that you were once inside your grandmother? Since most female babies are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have, that means that YOU, as an egg, were once inside your mother, inside your grandmother.

After we played, Jonathan Vassar & crew performed a really great set and then took us back to their log cabin where we slept aside an old black piano, next to an open window, our noses full of country air and the smell of old, wet wood.

4/24/08 THE VELVET LOUNGE (Washington, DC)

.... In which the future is revealed by a puddle of differential fluid, and the author does not take heed…

We woke up in the country. Drank strong, flowery green tea, watched a family of 6 chipmunks in their tree stump house, and petted a kind, happy chicken. Jonathan Vassar has got it made out there. His wife, Antonia, led us to a swell breakfast joint, and then we thrifted for awhile and hit the road.

So….The Velvet Lounge in DC is neither loungy or velvety. It was, in fact, a tiny place with a tiny bar. And an upstairs with a stage and a floor covered in sawdust from recent renovations. We loaded in flanked by an eager pitbull. The soundman, Sam, was rather a newbie, but did well given his accommodations. There were 3 other acts on the bill, and after much shuffling we were moved from last to 3^rd. We were hoping this would happen because, unfortunately, Betty Bang, our van, had sprung some kind of MAJOR leak and was sitting in a giant puddle of her own oil. So much oil, that we were fairly ertain we’d need to be towed away from the club or risk derailing in downtown DC. During our set to about 10 people, we asked for assistance and advice about our predicament. Several folks offered their apartments and gave recs for mechanics. We ended up staying with three cute lasses mere blocks from the club. We were able to drive BB without any trouble. We ate lavender-chocolate cake. Then to bed.

The other acts of that night were all very avante garde, mostly instrumental, pretty wild and beautiful stuff.

4/25/08 PETE’S CANDY STORE (Brooklyn, NY)

… In which the author drives 15 hours in one day, without the aid of chemicals…

This morning we woke up at 8 am. Well, I hit snooze 3 times, and then we really woke up, forgoing our morning yoga, and roamed DC looking for a repair shop. You see, our van, Betty Bang, hit puberty and started menstruating the moment we parked out in front of The Velvet Lounge on Thursday. She began bleeding lube and didn’t stop. She just sat there on the curb in a puddle of her own axle grease.

We found a repair shop. The clerk sent us to drink coffee while they looked it over. When we got back to the shop I could see two legs sticking out from under Betty. I walked up and hollered, “How does it look down there?” A small, wirey man, with eyes wide, rolled out from under the van and said, “It looks bad… real bad. I gotta check and see if you burnt up the whole rear end.” And then he rolled back under.

They estimated the repair costs to be NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS and said it wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow! That cracked us up, because, as you may have heard, we are already many thousands of dollars in credit card debt due to self-releasing our frickin’ awesome new album. Ah, credit card debt. Ain’t that the American way? Anyhow, I called my hometown Athens, GA mechanic, Mr. Eddie Cradock down by Weaver D’s, and he said, indeed, that a repair of that nature was very laborious and would run around a grand. Damn. I was hoping he would say we were getting ripped off and then he would put on his super mechanic cape and fly to DC and fix Betty. Nope…. So AYT needed all day to fix her. They called Enterprise who brought us a sweet maroon SUV that gets twice the mileage and zips around like a roller girl. And then we sweet-talked Lea and Julia into letting us leave our extra gear at their house, and we fit as much as we could into the SUV

Tons of toll money, but good gas mileage because we were in a tiny vehicle instead of our gas guzzler. I had to drive the whole time as I was the only one insured to do so. I almost wrecked the rental numerous times having daydreams about one of my crushes back home. Man, it is like, as soon as my brain/body realize we are single again, then the floodwaters of sexual imagination reopen and suddenly I cannot drive straight for thinking of all the ways I could do IT with Mister SoAndSo.

We got to Brooklyn with about an hour to spare. Daniel Clay opened with a perfect set. That man is so foxy and such a good songwriter. Then the room got tightly packed with folks. Many familiar faces like Jorge Torres, Brian Petway & Ariel. Plus lots of new folks. We played a good set and that crowd filled up the tip bucket and bought lotsa merch, which is good because we had started to dread the mounting cost of van repairs plus renting a vehicle. I asked for two things: Aderol (for the drive back) and a scalpel (to get this giant splinter out of my ass cheek). But nobody had these things. I thought all New Yorkers traveled with pharmaceuticals and surgical tools.

Chelsea Lynn LaBate closed the show with a killer set. I highly recommend you find her music. Seek, find and be rewarded.

After the show, we immediately loaded out and began driving back to DC to get our van from the repair shop. Crazy, I know. But a bands gotta do what a bands gotta do. I drove 13 hours in less than a day, no drugs except green tea and rock n’ roll. Yea ME!

And about this splinter I have. It has been there for over a month and it hurts. It is in a bad spot that I can’t see without a mirror and putting both legs in the air. Very unladylike. And it WON’T come out. I have slept the last 4 months on an old piece of stage (complete with a trap-door), and every morning I would slide down off of it onto the floor, and one day a sliver of wood lodged deep within my ass cheek and there it remains, Can someone please volunteer to perform this minor surgery?

By the way, map quest says the trip from DC to NY is 5 hours. That is a damn lie, mostly. That shit took 8 hours during the day. But driving back in the middle of the night only took 5 hours. And what is with an entire audience devoid of Aderol. Whatevs. I drove it fine on nothing but green tea and salted cashews. But half a pill would’ve made me a safer driver is all I’m sayin.

4/26/08 ZEBULON - SHOW CANCELLED (Brooklyn, NY)

…In which the beloved family van suffers further humiliations…

On April 26^th we were scheduled to be performing another Brooklyn show at Zebulon… but it got burnt in a dang fire. Plus, the way things turned out, we had to be back in DC to collect our van from the shop. Which we did. Right after playing at Pete’s in Brooklyn we headed back down the Jersey Turnpike. We arrived in DC around 6am. We got our van from the shop as soon as they opened at 8am. They took our $900 with a smile. We couldn’t get in touch with the lasses at whose house our extra gear had been stashed, probably still asleep. We saw an open-air flea market in this old parking lot so we went to check it out. I ended up buying a sweet old-ass Polaroid camera for Robby & Jillian, who are helping me rebuild the Fags website. Page bought an oil painting of a Latino man wearing aviator shades. We’ve named him Chupa-Chup Cajones. He may sit in on some shows with us.

After shopping we returned to our newly fixed van only to find that it had been SIDESWIPED! Seriously? Seriously. Really? Really. Yes, And all we could do was laugh because everything is funny when yo uhaven’t slept or eaten anything but salted cashews. I found the driver’s side mirror about half a block down the street. Totally shattered, but in a bizarre twist I was able to make it fit back in its empty socket and it cracks me up at how unsafe it is to glance over and instead of seeing one truck to your right, you see its image scattered about 25 times on different shards of mirror. We have some minor denting and scratching, too, of course.

And then we drove off, got our gear from the lasses, and proceeded to get lost in DC for 1.5 hours, before finally making it onto 81 for an 8 hour drive to Clinton, NY. Yes, that’s right, we’d just come from NY and now we were going the fuck back. At some point, somewhere, I don’t know where, the van started making this loud clanging noise. We happened to be driving by a Pep Boys and pulled in to ask for assistance. This sweet man named Jim put it up on the lift, took off the tires, checked everything out, and told us what we’d really been wanting to hear:

1) The work we paid for in DC was done very well and $900 was less than he himself would’ve charged us.

2) Nothing was obviously wrong with our vehicle that could be causing the clanging noise.

3) If by chance there was some internal problem in the rear of the vehicle, and it seized up, most likely all we would experience would be skidding tires, and not instant death.

Then he gave us our keys and said, “Don’t worry about the bill. We don’t feel right taking money off of ya’ll after you just paid so much to have your van fixed. Ya’ll be safe.” And he waved us on. And that made us feel blessed.

We drove a few more exits down and hopped around trying to find a hotel with a vacancy, but all of PA was covered in bowling enthusiasts there for some giant competition. We finally bedded down at a Comfort Inn, but not until we went swimmin’ and hot tubbin’ in Deb’s boxer briefs.

4/27/08 COLLEGE STREET CAFÉ (Clinton, NY)

…Wherein a small town lines the pockets and quiets the nervous system …

Thank goodness for this tiny town and this quaint show. After spending 3 days driving between DC and Brooklyn, we were thrilled to find ourselves in a small town with high school kids holding a community car wash and people strolling leisurely in the sunlight as we set up to play on the front porch of the Café. And also, many thanks to Eve for booking the show and bringing us a bag of home-cooked food and one of the best pies I have ever tasted. Eve, I need the recipe. That crust was perfect. I am a sucker for a good pie crust.

While Deb & Page went jogging, I rigged up a weird sound system using the Café’s 4 channel PA head, some ¼” guitar cables, a stereo to mono converter, and my Strawberry Blonde amp (recently fixed by one cute Andy Pruett of Athens, GA). It worked, but since the back of the amp was facing us everything sounded like an 8-track tape so we had to rely heavily on audience advice as to how to tweak the sound.

We played two set, pausing for fire trucks and other sirens. Then I taught this lad, Damien, how to play singing saw. He was so excited I thought he was gonna twitter and flutter right up outta his seat. He said, “This is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.” So cute. Then we packed up and headed towards Toledo, OH.

We stopped to sleep in Erie, PA. Ate at a Bob Evans (everything was microwaved). Swam in a cold pool with 2 hyper kids. Watched some cable. Sleep.

4/28/08 MICKEY FINNS (Toledo, OH)

… At which time the protagonists are cold and humbled…

Just to make things more interesting I booked us this Monday night show in Toledo. When we arrived dark clouds were hovering over the glass city. It is an industrial ghost town. We loaded in to a nice big room with a good size stage and decent sound system…. And then NOBODY comes to the show. It is always humbling to play for a room completely devoid of patrons, save for the other bands on the bill. And that is exactly what happened. We were sandwiched between two local bands, and there was a good blurb and pic in the local paper, but none of these things could get the people out on a windy, rainy, cold Monday night. Sigh. Tracer opened. Then us. The Prayers For Rain. We all became each others’ witnesses. They even bought our merch so we left with some cash in hand, which is good.

Deb said she didn’t trust Toledo, so we got back on the highway and drove towards Ann Arbor to find a hotel. We are once again at a Comfort Inn. Around 3:30am I finally turned off the TV. Not because I was tired, but because I can only watch and process just so much info about rape in the Congo. The documentary was fascinating, which is why it didn’t get turned off sooner. Whenever there is a rape scene in a movie or in TV, I usually walk out. I get my ass up and walk right the fuck out. I can’t handle that shit. It makes me feel ill. I have so many friends who’ve been raped. So many. But this documentary was amazing. But, like I said, I needed to process what I’d seen. That is what sleep is for.

4/29/08 THE ARK (Ann Arbor, MI)

…In which the author must trust the sense over the dollar…

I just ate a huge breakfast of Scrambled Eggs, Make-Your-Own Waffles, OJ, Coffee and Chai Tea. Deb is sitting next to the open window with her feet propped up on the sill, wrapped in a yellow and red Hindi prayer shawl. Page is in the shower. We have 20 minutes until check out…

….We hung out all day in Ann Arbor. I bought several books on Birth & Midwifery, and generally roamed the streets. Deb and I got some hellacious Chinese food. Mine was edible, but Deb’s tasted like a horse stall. And believe me, I should know, since all I ever do is go around cleaning horse stalls with my tongue.

Anyhow, we got to the Ark, loaded all our gear up to the 2^nd floor, waited for the soundman, etc. We soundchecked and set up our merch. Then we went to hang backstage which is very posh with hot water on boil for tea, a fruit basket with slightly dusty fresh fruit (probably from the band before us who actually had a rider). I went out to talk with the guy who was going to run our merch. Very nice, but had to be legally blind. He couldn’t see to write or read unless, literally, his eye was 2 cm from the paper. I’ve never seen anything like it… and this was the man who’d been given the job of tallying our sales and exchanging currency with our customers. I was skeptical.

We played to a really sweet audience that probably thought we were silly. The interesting and mind-boggling scheme behind this show is that we get paid to play, but the crowd gets in for free! And, they could sign up to have their electricity come from wind power, and then receive a copy of our album… for free… and we still got paid full price for the album. Huh? What genius thought of this? I’ll tell you who: GreenCurrents (which is Detroit Edison’s Michigan-based renewable energy program). Let me repeat, people saw us for free, got our CD for free, and we still got paid. Brilliant.

So after the show (and an encore!) I went out to check on the mostly-blind man in charge of our merch. He seemed to be doing okay, but I jumped in to help since the line was huge. Then Page and Deb came out because Susie (the promoter) told them to hustle and sign autographs. And they were like, Autographs? Hardly anybody ever wants our autograph… but, lo, Susie was right. All these people lined up for our signatures. We are totally rock stars in like 5 towns now!

Page and Deb went to pack up our gear, and I, along with the theatre manager, endured what was possibly the most spine-tingling, hang-wringing money count of our lives. The mostly-blind merch man took 30 minutes to meticulously check our sales. I say meticulously, but really, anytime you study a piece of paper or a piece of currency from only 2 cm away, repeatedly, for 30 minutes… well, it makes it look as though you are being very meticulous. Anyhow, he got it all sorted after pulling bills from his pockets and other hiding places. After a sigh of relief, I joined Page and Deb. The soundman (who is excellent, by the way) helped us carry our gear out to the van and told us where to get all-night Greek food. Now, let me repeat that again, the SOUNDMAN helped us carry our gear. Huh? Where are we?

As we were leaving, the merch guy found Deb and gave her another $30 that he’d found in his back pocket and figured must be ours. Okay.

We ate dolmas at midnight with my friend John Heath (an Athens, GA ex-pat). He put us up at his house and we drank large goblets of whiskey with him (I couldn’t finish all of mine because, as everyone knows, I get drunk real quicklike on account of my scrawny bod). I think I just burned my rice. Dammit!

4/30/08 THE FOUNDRY HALL (South Haven, MI)

…In which the author is reminded of her days in the open-mic circuit…

When I was in the 6^th grade I had plastic surgery. My ears stuck out when I was born, and the doc asked my parents right then if he could pull them back but they said hell no. Years later, somehow, we all came to this decision that I would have my ears pulled back and spend an entire summer in a gauzy head wrap that went round my head and under my chin like the ghost of Christmas past. When I returned to school for 7^th grade, people told me I looked like an elf. So, while it may seem like I have smallish ears, if they’d been left to their own design they’d surely look like satellite dishes. If I were to procreate with someone who also has this trait, would our offspring have even more magnified ears? Would they be able to hear more keenly, or less peripherally?

We awoke at John Heath’s house to bowls of hot oatmeal and tall glasses of milk… which we tried our best to drink, but we eventually had to tell John that we just ain’t milk drinkers. In a bout of insomnia, I have been known to drink a glass of warm milk with honey and chamomile. But straight milk? Nope.

John walked us downtown to buy some jackets, but damn if all the stores hadn’t already packed away the warm clothes. So, we headed to South Haven.

This evening we were the featured act at Andru Bemis’ open mic : The Bread & Jam. This is basically a talent night where you can make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the bar. We approve. We even contributed a jar of macadamia-cashew butter.

Most of the acts were good ol’ gents with great deep voices and decent fingerpickin’ skills. We performed about 6 songs and then they passed the hat for us and folks were real generous.

And then, well, if I’d had a video camera I would’ve used it. Up next was a quartet of pre-teens playing their first show ever. Ever. They did not have amps. Instead they plugged everything direct into the PA board, creating a sound wall completely devoid of dynamics. It was so strange to hear. At the end of their first song, the drummer, a 9 year old wearing aviator shades, climbed on top of the kick drum, beat it with mallets, threw up devil horns and jumped to the floor. Woah. Despite the fact that grandma was present, they covered the Chili Peppers’ “Californication” for their 2^nd song. The drummer played one thing, and the rest of the band played a completely different song… and none of them would budge or compromise. Deb hid behind a column and Andru pulled his hat over his eves and squatted on the floor. The host told them they only had time for one more, and after consulting with each other, they announced their decision to perform Stairway To Heaven. And then the lead guitarist proceeded to “rip” through the solo while the rest of the band stood silently. The end.

Oh, but wait, there was one more act. The local poet laureate had decided to sing rather than recite. She was a really sweet woman. The end.

Except that while packing up we realize that THE VAN IS LEAKING DIFFERNTIAL FLUID AGAIN!!! We drive to Andru’s house and sleep on a bunk bed in a red room full of dolls.

5/1/08 PLAINES PROJECT (Chicago, IL)

…In which the beloved family van meets her demise, and almost takes our heroes along…

That morning we woke early and traveled to a garage with Andru. They put Betty up on the rack, said she was 2 quarts low on differential fluid, her gears were turning to mush, and the right rear brake was covered in differential fluid. They filled her up and said to be careful. We were warned that there was a chance the rear would sieze and we’d come to a skidding halt. Because of the prior $900 repair, we could afford nothing else. We ate breakfast at a nice diner and headed to Chicago with Andru Bemis on the back bench.

Page was driving, and in rush hour traffic, our brakes failed, but caught at just the last millisecond. Page almost fainted at the wheel. We immediately found a Pep Boys and for the 2^nd time that day had our van up on a rack. They tightened the brakes and gave her an oil change. They said that was all they could do. Again we were warned of the possibility of the rear seizing, and again we had to decline any further repair based on finances.

This evenings show was a house party at a DIY super political town house on Desplaines St. They held a veggie BBQ and all the hipsters drank 40oz in brown paper bags.

The first group, who that evening dubbed themselves the CCR2D2 were pretty sweet, Good lap-steel playing. We performed next and folks dug it. They passed the hat for us and bought a few albums. Since our next drive was 12 hours to Greensboro, we took our time in the limelight to inquire if there was any Aderol about the house. And lo, a Kirtan yoga instructor with severe ADD bequeathed unto us 3 x 20mg Aderol. Bless you, sir. As many touring bands know, a long drive can be made much safer by ingesting small, repeated doses of the following: Coffee, Red Bull, Sobe Adrenaline, Aderol, Ritalin, Cocaine. We stick to Red Bull, Sobe and Aderol. Just enough to keep you alert, but not jittery or manic. A fine line that can only be mastered by years on the road, young grasshoppers.

And on this fateful evening we’d consumed Aderol.

After playing, we quickly packed, listened to a parting tune by Andru, and rode South for the Carolinas.

Deb drove about 6 hours and stopped at a gas station just outside of Dayton, OH. She woke me up and said, “Claire, come look at this.” We walked 20 feet behind the van. Deb points to the right rear wheel and says, does that look lopsided to you?” I said, “Deb, you’re being paranoid. It looks fine.” She said, “You’re probably right.” We both turned to gaze at the Enterprise Rental Car office across form the gas station… nah.

Deb tagged Page to drive next. About 30 minutes later, as I began to snooze in the passenger seat, there was A LOUD CLANGING NOISE. I sat up in the seat and SAW A FIREY GLOWING RED ORB SAIL PAST THE VAN and out onto the dark 5 AM highway. As it crossed the road about 200 feet in front of us… I yelled, “Oh my god, that’s our tire.” This all happened very quickly and Page screamed, “THE BRAKES ARE GONE. What do I do?” She edged the van off the highway while I downshifted thru 2^nd to 1^st gear and we rolled to a stop. I could see FLAMES POURING from the right wheel hub and I yelled for everybody to BAIL THE HELL OUT. Page and I jumped from the front, and I heard a tiny voice say, “Somebody let me out!!!” Deb was surrounded by al our gear in the back of the van. I swung the door open and she jumped out. We all stood huddled together on the side of the highway and WATCHED OUR VAN BURN for a bit. At some point I tried to put the fire out by hitting at it with Deb’s pillow. Then Deb threw some water from a gallon jug, I followed suit, and the fire sizzled out. What was left was a completely MOLTEN PILE OF METAL, all contorted and steaming.

5/2/08 THE HIVE (Greensboro, NC)

…In which our protagonists sell an old friend for a benjamin…

We watched the sun come up, surrounded by pastureland and wildflowers. While waiting for a tow truck we searched the ditches for our wayward wheel, but it must’ve sailed into the future. We were towed back to Charlie’s 76 Garage by two old sweethearts. Their boss, Charlie, bought our van for scrap. He paid us a crisp one hundred dollar bill. We sat around all morning waiting for a Budget rental car. When it arrived it was much too small for all our gear, so the big, burly garage workers helped us cram everything into it. We had to leave behind 3 pillows (one burnt), a blue tom drum, and some plastic crates. I managed to convince Page and Deb to let me bring my middle-school cassette tape collection.

We drove walled in on all sides by gear and personal effects. We arrived in Greensboro 15 minutes before our set time. The room was packed and the air was dense with sweat. No ventilation whatsoever. We played until I realized Deb was about to pass out from lack of sleep. The crowd was really sweet and our hosts WUAG and Brittney were very kind to us. After we played and sold a bunch of merch, we packed up in the deserted parking lot. Deb had a meltdown while Page rifled thru all our food that had suffered the spillage form a large bottle of olive oil. We drove to J. Woody’s house in Asheville. She is my friend from College of Charleston days. We got there at 4am. I set my alarm for 8am, as I had to be in Doula class at 9am.

5/3/08 THE WHEREHOUSE (Winston-Salem, NC)

…In which our heroes forge ahead, despite a lack of bare necessities such as food and sleep…

I arrived at Doula class with no sleep and no food. I spent the day learning from Whappio, a midwife who has helped deliver more than 600 babies. She spoke about genetics and the basic physiology of pregnancy & birth… all with a healthy dose of metaphysics and mysticism.

Page and Deb picked me up from class.

I should’ve mentioned earlier that I ran out of Effexor on Thursday, May 1st. Effexor is an antidepressant, of which I have taken 75mg/day for almost 5 years. I have tried to come off of it twice, once I quit cold turkey and once I tapered. Both were very loopy experiences and I eventually ended up back on the drug. In one month I will begin a long-term taper with the assistance of my shrink, a naturopath, mindfulness based meditation, yoga, crazy nutritionals, and the longwinded breadth of 8 years of dealing with depression. I mention this all because on this day, I had now gone 2.5 days without the drug, and withdrawal was beginning to set in. It makes you feel drunk and I could hear my eyelids blinking and blood pumping in my ears. I have run out of Effexor many times, so withdrawal is nothing new to me and I can function through it since I know from experience that I am not dying.

We arrived in Winston-Salem very early. I changed into a dress in the industrial style bathroom and then tried to sleep in the backseat of the car. I drifted in and out of lustful dreams and waking to a marimba band performing for a dinner party in the lower courtyard.

The Baker Family opened our show and was killer. Really tight songs and good harmonies.

We performed next. About halfway through our set we covered a Spanish song (Page is fluent) and all these folks in the crowd got super excited. After our set an internal medicine doctor from the Dominican Republic pulled me aside to talk about why I want to be a doula and drunkenly told me that delivery was his least favorite part of practicing medicine because he always feared the baby would slip to the floor. Which is a very real fear that I have considered. But I know many folks who were dropped on their heads as babies and they turned out fine. Those little skulls are like malleable tectonic plates. This man was very sweet and tried to anonymously give us $100 for our van troubles, but I knew it was him. I gave him a big hug and we kissed each other on the cheek like the do down below. I wish folks kissed on the cheek here. It is so nice.

We drove back to J. Woody’s house in Asheville. And again: We got there at 4am. I set my alarm for 8am, as I had to be in Doula class at 9am.

5/4/08 BOBO GALLERY (Asheville, NC)

…In which our fearless victors perform the final show of this tour…

Around the 3^rd full day of withdrawal is usually when things get REALLY weird. There are constant whooshing sounds and whenever I moved and then stopped it felt as if I had two bodies, one physical and one metaphysical and transparent that was always a second behind the physical and would rush to catch up and then crash into the physical and I could feel both at the same time. Is this making any sense? I know this is a common side effect, but I don’t know if it has a name. It is very distracting. Also, nausea sets in and the body begins to flush everything out. This is also very distracting when you are in doula class looking at your very first human placenta and feeling rather overwhelmed at the site and smell of the thing. A placenta is spongy. And you can peel at the film of the amniotic sac which is very strong, but so thin you can hold it up in front of you and see someone on the other side.

After class I caught a ride back to J’s house and took a bath in her giant Whirlpool tub which made my brain feel better. J owns a natural building shop in Asheville and her house is sweet. Lots of natural artifacts and artistic touches. Page and Deb met me at the house and we loaded everything and went to Bobo Gallery. We got there an hour before showtime. The owner, Brad, helped us load everything in and got us settled with mics and water bottles. Our long lost friend, Bill Bondo, was there with his new beau. We regailed them and our audience with tails from the road. We love playing in Asheville because they love storytime and they love to sing along to our songs. Which makes things really fun. Stuart, from The Baker Family, sat in on drums for the Aliyah and Timbaland cover.

Christa and her pals showed up with a blessings worth of goodies: 3 bottles of mead and a large tincture bottle of Christa’s world famous Love Potion. That stuff will make your tongue numb and your lover happy. Mmm mmm.

We split shortly after the last note rang out from my old guitar. The drive home was painless and I was in my very own bed at 4am. It rained a bit and the roof started leaking water into my room, but I didn’t really mind.

...In the twilight of losing ol' Betty Bang, and in the dark of our declining fortunes, we've decided to postpone our West Coast tour until late summer. We thank all of you that have offered suggestions about West Coast venues. We will be there soon!