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12 Aug 2009
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Day 2: 26 July 2009 – Indietracks

We wake at 9:30 even though we barely slept on the plane and went to bed at around 3:30 last night. For some reason (most likely immutable math) one can never get enough sleep on tour, even if one isn’t partying.

We get a traditional English breakfast at the Travel Center by our hotel. I’m game for most any kind of food, but I have to say, English breakfast is one of the few “exotic” foods I’ve never warmed to. Still, I keep trying, and it’s fun to be eating this meal halfway across the world with virtual strangers.

We drive to the festival and without the jet lag haze, its even more apparent how completely awesome Indietracks is. There is an antique train that choogles around the property, with bands playing on it. Another stage is in an old church. Another is inside a big maintenance shed, and the last is outside, like the big stage of any festival, but somehow more charming.

Heather on train

I recognize people from yesterday, which makes me realize that this festival isn’t that big and it’s certainly not impersonal– it’s just a bunch of people gathered together to enjoy music and each other’s company.

We are slotted to play at 2PM. Nick and I decide to get whiskeys, even though drinking straight whiskey at 1 PM seems perverse. But like an athlete, I have strange superstitions about performance. I have to drink one whiskey, neat, before going on stage, no matter what. For this tour i have also purchased a talisman — a ring of power, matte black metal studded with rhinestones. I believe that this ring contains magical rocking properties that will possess me whenever I place it on my finger. Out of respect for the ring, I have vowed to only wear it onstage, so as not to squander its power on mundane activities.

We take the stage and what can I say? People watch, they sing along, I don’t trip, Yoshi keeps a steady barrage of drum brutality, Nick rocks out. We have succeeded, and I feel pretty confident that we’ll only get better over the next couple of weeks.

For the rest of the day, we enjoy the festival, meeting a bunch of great people and watching some amazing bands, including Art Brut and Teenage Fanclub. Then, at the very end of the night, it turns into a dance party and we all go apeshit.

I am sad to leave this little musical utopia in the countryside.

Leaving Indietracks

11 Aug 2009
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Day 1: 25 July 2009 – NYC-London-Derbyshire

Over the next week or so, I’ll be posting the tour diary entries from our tour — the ones i couldn’t get enough stable internet access to post at the time.

Day 1 7/25/09

Before Nick and I head out to the airport, I make him wait for me to get my nails done, which he finds mildly annoying. On the subway ride to the airport, a woman is taking up an enormous amount of space with all of her bags. My bag gets snagged on hers, but she won’t bother to move it. She just stares at me, like i’m a gnat buzzing around. She then opens a packet of heat-and-serve lentils and proceeds to eat it right there on the filthy subway, licking each finger many times as she eats. She is all dressed up, which is hard to reconcile with the lentils from a packet. I’m still mad about the bags, so i start to send telepathic messages, willing her to spill on the lap of her white satin floral dress. I send the messages very strongly, chanting “spill, spill” in y head. Soon, a big dollop of lentils falls on her lap. She swipes it up with a finger and sucks the finger clean.

I lean into Nick and say, “I made her do that.”

We’re booked on the red eye to London and we get to Newark airport too late for any restaurants to be open. We get Jamba Juice, knowing that this will be the first of many meals skipped over the next few weeks.

The flight is fairly uneventful. I sleep most of the way, but every time i open my eyes, Nick is staring straight ahead. Not sleeping, not watching TV. Just staring. I worry that he knows something I don’t.

At Heathrow, we clear customs and then look for our label gentleman, John, who will be picking us up. We find him and he’s with another gentleman, Lawrence, who John says will be driving us. It should be noted here that I let Nick make most of the tour preparations. I have remained blissfully, perhaps stupidly unaware of much of our situation. This means that most of the details of our tour will be total surprises. Like the wondrous fact that someone will be driving us around for a week in England.

We pile into the Jetta wagon they’ve rented and they show me my keyboard for the week, an ancient looking contraption called the Bunny One. I can’t wait to hear how this thing sounds. IT will either be brilliant or ungodly. But beggars can’t be choosers.

We drive for a couple of hours to the site of the festival that will be only our second show ever with this line up, the trio. Oh, and since Yoshi has been touring with Still Flyin’, we haven’t practiced in 2 months. To say i am nervous is a gross understatement.

Indietracks day 1

The festival, Indietracks, is held at a defunct train depot in the English countryside. There are tons of indiekids wandering around, and a terrific line-up to fill the day. We wander around drinking beers and watching bands. Nick and I worry about how Yoshi is going to find us — he’s coming separately, and we suddenly realize that none of us have cellphones that work. It seems totally hopeless, but as Nick is napping in the Jetta, listening to the distant strains of Camera Obscura from the big stage, he hears a voice yelling his name. He pops his head up and spot Yoshi, along with his band mates Wyatt and Maria, striding towards the car.

As the sun goes down, we watch the music and feels so lucky to be at this festival, reunited, among all of these great people who love music so much.

I go sleep in the car while everyone else parties. About 2 AM they converge on the car. They’re all a little loopy, and we head back to the hotel.

As Nick and I are falling asleep, we hear a knock on the door. Wyatt and Maria need a place to sleep. We offer up our room, and we settle in, all five of us in a tiny hotel room. Another knock comes. It’s the desk person. She says she knows that there are too many people in the room, and that she will give us ten minutes to get the extra people out or she’ll call the police. This is literally a foreign concept to us — that someone would call the police for such an offense. Wyatt and Maria go sleep in the parking lot, and I sleep like crap on the floor, knowing that tomorrow is the moment of truth, when we play the festival and either make our label guy proud or very sorry indeed.

19 Dec 2007
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December 15–San Francisco

In the AM we’re sent off with a care package, replete with music, beauty products—my skin is having some sort of armageddon–and music. Anya is a saint.

We get a flat tire somewhere north of San Diego. It’s actually been a slow leak we’ve been ignoring for two days, but it’s now low enough for the gas station attendant to tell us to pull over to the garage to have it checked out. Thirty minutes later, we’re back on the road.

We have to get all the way back to San Francisco, in order to revisit Yoshi and our other SF friends, Evan and Chris. We all go to Benihana where we tell the waitress it’s Nick’s birthday. That means three waitresses grudgingly come over and beat on a drum and clap and sing to us. They finish off with a Polaroid of the “birthday” crew. After that, we get get a room for karaoke and spend the next three hours doing a sing along with 15 people. One of the biggest hits is Backstreet Boys “I Want It That Way” (my selection!) Really, with all the swaying and closed-eyed belting, we could be at church camp. Except there’s a lot more whiskey.

19 Dec 2007
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December 14–San Diego

Yay to seeing my friend Anya. Anya is a band friend, a singer songwriter we met at Mississippi studios in Portland. She is also a dj on a commercial alternative station in San Diego. We have had some long talks, some winey nights, me and Ms. Anya.

She makes us snacks and cookies and then takes us out to dinner. One of the best and most awkward parts of tour is how much at the mercy of other people you are. When they are so gracious and generous—which is almost always–it’s nearly embarrassing. For each of them, they’re extending themselves for one night, but for us, constantly moving, it’s every night that someone really goes out of their way for us—and that’s not even including all the people who show up to see us play. It’s humbling.

The show is our last with Fishboy and I can’t really say goodbye because it’s making me all sad. I think all of the bands are rendezvousing at a tacqueria later, but we end up being the only ones. I’m bummed, but a pound of carnitas helps me through the pain.

19 Dec 2007
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December 13–Los Angeles

The next day we drive to LA. Since last tour, we have learned to be looser with the schedule. We used to stress about being late, stress about having “zone” time before we played. We never had the stomach for food anywhere near show time. Now, we can eat, be 30 minutes late, dress in bathrooms, all without having a heart attack. Progress!

We’re playing the Silverlake Lounge, a place we played on our first tour, where I got my purse and Nick’s camera stolen.

This is a redemptive experience though—a really fun show with plenty of people. I have a private temper tantrum because I thought we made $14 but it was a fuckup—we made significantly more. Not that one can ever think about the money; it’s beside the point, really.

I get to stay in a five star hotel with my friend who is working in LA. It’s a humongous suite—the nicest room I’ve ever been in. In the morning, we get room service and watch Return of the Jedi. Wicket still sucks.

12 Dec 2007
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December 10 & 11–Shasta & Chico

We leave Portland late. Around 8 PM, we arrive at a cabin outside of Weed. There are three dogs and our hosts make clam chowder and salad. It‘s a dream meal with dream company. I sleep in a cozy bed for 10 hours. Then we go to lunch at a bar. We stop by our host’s office. I am drunk so I brag that I can do 20 pushups. No one believes me. I drop and give them 20. Nick announces that I’m drunk. We go to a townie bar called the Vet’s club, which is oddly Marilyn Monroe themed.

Then we drive to Chico. It’s finals week so almost no one comes except a few really lovely people who are our heroes. Still, it’s the best show so far—at least in my mind. Fishboy have kazoos. They are fucking funny. I make us get a hotel so that I can sleep in.

12 Dec 2007
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Saturday, December 8, 2007–Anacortes

In Seattle in the morning, we dawdle and Ethan, our host from the Math and Physics Club (a band that plays beautiful pop), reads to us from a book on film by a guy named Vern. We listen to records and then go eat a the volunteer park café. Normally, I would bitch about manicured, rich sanctimommies ad nauseum, but something weird has happened and I think I might want to have one of those little monsters one day, so my hypocrisy meter is telling me to shut the fuck up.

In Anacortes I make us go to a thrift store. It is shitty, full of half used nail polish and exhausted Christmas decorations but I find a vintage slip, one of the many things I collect. Then we go to a bar. I get an oyster shooter and chicken wings on the argument that it’s not white flour.

We are playing the Department of Safety, an all ages venue that feels like an arty compound—really cool. The show is freezing cold and fun. Nevada’s keyboard keeps cutting out because the amp is broken. I really love Fishboy. And Tullycraft are terrific—we could learn a thing or two from them about audience participation. Nick says he thinks we’re talking too much during our shows, that it’s turning into VH1 Storytellers. There is fresh baked banana bread from the DOS kitchen and I totally hog it.

16 Sep 2006
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Speed Freaks

We barely make it back. The last three hours we’re limping along—pounding M and M’s and Gummi Worms to stay awake.

At 2:00 AM, we are finally, finally home again.

The instant we pull in the driveway, I wish we could do it all again.

Just kidding.

16 Sep 2006
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Fire on the mountain

LA to San Francisco–Wednesday, September 13

We get to have breakfast with Deb, who is about to present her current artwork to a committee at her grad school. She barely touches her food due to nerves.

Forest fires are making I-5 hard to navigate, so we take 101 instead; I’ve always wanted to do this route anyway, and it turns out to be well worth it with all the scenery.

Back to San Fran, where we are comforted by Evan and Chris, our hosts, and their two dogs, Calvin and Clementine. We go to Emmy’s and get spaghetti and meatballs, the thing I hadn’t known I was craving but is absolute perfection.

16 Sep 2006
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Hope springs eternal

Austin to Sonora, TX–Sunday, September 10
Despite staying up past 4, I wake early again, to work. But I’m still not done with the job, so we have decided to make an emergency schedule change—we will drive a couple of hours and check into a hotel so that I can have steady phone/cell access to finish.

But first we spend the morning with friends. Nick goes to breakfast with friends, and I get tacos with Lawrence, Audrey and Andy, my Austin Hosts. They take me swimming at a place called Barton Springs, a natural-fed pool. I haven’t been swimming at a pool in years, and even though I’m all lame in shorts and a tank top, I feel like a happy little kid.

Then we say goodbye and leave. The whole drive to Sonora, I feel warm inside. The dusk is purplish pink, dreamlike. This may be the best trip I’ve ever taken.