Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Interview; Nashville in the Raw

Here's a quick interview I did with Nash Woodward a few days after I got off the road. Enjoy!

Friday, March 9, 2012

Maybe I've Found Something...

I keep having this weird feeling. You know, the one you feel right before something horrible happens; but you don't know what it is that's going to happen or why you're feeling that way? That one. So here I am, sitting in a bustling Panera, typing away like it's the end of the God-blessed land of the free and waiting for whatever happens next. I'm supposed to be playing four nights in Texas right now. Instead, I hit St Augustine and a night in Atlanta. It doesn't make sense to go to Texas for a weekend and not enough pay to justify driving. I'm going home. I've been out a month straight and can't get my mind off Tennessee. Well, a certain part of it at least. I keep staring at my phone like it's going to explode and I don't want to miss the fireworks. I'm uncomfortable here; wherever here is. Somewhere between Atlanta and Nashville. Somewhere between one place and another. Have you ever noticed that everyone in any given Panera acts as if they're hiding national secrets? Everyone is hunched over their laptops, occupying the perimeter where their backs can face a wall. Their heads pop up like little periscopes and survey the room before ducking back into their personal shell. I'm sitting out in the open. How vulnerable I feel right now. In my head everyone is watching me, trying to read whatever nonsense I'm typing as if it won't be readily available in fifteen minutes. The CIA and FBI and whatever organizational acronym you wish is staring at me through the windows. Maybe I'm disclosing federal secrets. Maybe I'm just writing a blog post. Regardless, I feel insecure and keep waiting for someone to leave the safety of a corner booth and welcome me to fill the void their absence created. Maybe this is what people are like with their walls down; scared, frail, little, people, nervous and suspicious of everything around them. It's kind of depressing. Maybe someone I met somewhere, sometime, will come in and we'll strike up a conversation. Conversation? How's that as a razor to the windpipe of society? But maybe they won't. Maybe I'll just keep sitting here alone. A booth opened up. I settled in and continued typing away. Look at me, I'm just like everybody else this time...
I keep catching angry glances from this girl across the room. She looks so frustrated. On my way in, for whatever reason, she felt the need to inform me that the "Lady's Entrance" sticker on the back of my truck was offensive. I guess she's still upset. It's a shame to be so tense on spring break. I guess I was rude, but she should have stayed out of my business. The conversation went as follows:

Crazy Broad: (walking by) "You need to be careful about that sticker because it's really pissing me off right now." 

Me: *disregards statement

CB: "You seriously need to take it down because I'm getting pissed"

Me: *shrugs

(a few minutes later in Panera line)

CB: "Really? You don't have a response?" 

Me: "I'm sorry, I completely disregarded your statement outside."

CB: "Your sticker. It's offensive" 

Me: "I'm sorry you feel that way" (starts ordering food)

CB: "You're just going to ignore me?"

Me: "I ignore a lot of things. Most of which are more important than your feelings." 

CB: "It's degrading to women. You need to take it down." 

Me: "Take it down? It should be offensive to men. Women are allowed in and men aren't. I'd hate to take it down because it's actually very supportive of women's rights. You're more than welcome to go in there if you want; but this guy (points at cashier), I'll shoot him if he comes in." 

CB: (grabbed her coffee and walked away). 

That's where things are right now. I'm pretty sure she'll say something else to me on her way out. 
I hope she's reading this blog right now. How amazing would that be? Very amazing. That's how amazing. 
I smile at her. My phone starts ringing. I grab for it anxiously. It's some girl from California. I ignore it and toss my phone back onto the table. She's voicemail material. I wish I had something to write about. Everything that's happened in the last month is either better told live, illegal or not worth writing down. I just want to go home. Can you believe that? It could change at the drop of a hat, but for now, I want to go home...

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Float in Your Coffin to Safer Ground

My shows in Florida were a great time. It was good to see everyone and catch up with old friends, families and flames. It's crazy how much some things have changed while others remain the same. I got the opportunity to play along side my sister at my Orlando show. She's such an amazing singer and a ton of fun to perform with. We did an impromptu, bluegrass/folk rendition of the old Frank Sinatra tune, "You're Awful." We did the song together six years ago in a high-school musical version of "The Importance of Being Earnest," and decided to try it right before taking the stage. It turned out to be one of my favorite songs in the set. I ended up doing it alone in Tampa the next night. Great times.

For the past year, I've drug around this old, metal, luggage case from the 1800's that I drop a microphone inside and stomp on as a kick-drum of sorts. It's a front porch, hillbilly, kind of thing. I guess she got tired of the abuse and gave out on me. I can't believe it took a year for me to finally break through it. I did what I could to repair it but we'll see how long she lasts.
That show got crazy. I think because I knew 80% of the audience by name, there was a random flurry of friends and musicians joining me on stage that led to hyper displays of non-sensical debauchery all night. I dedicated songs to random guys, changed lyrics to fit old jokes and, to anyone unfamiliar with what I was referring to, I probably sounded creepier than the pope at a kindergarten graduation. My set didn't end until around 3am and the crowd was full of big breasted crazies and Megaman tattoos. Kyle was playing drums during the last song and we destroyed everything. I was beating my guitar against his drum-set, kicking his cymbals and stomping through my box harder than ever. I guess that's when I broke it. At one point, I was swinging my guitar through my legs and beating it against the broken box, before ripping off every string, one at a time and throwing the whole guitar through the back of the stage. There were wood-chips and screws all over the place. It was such a fun night. The show was out-doors and probably 100 degrees and I've never sweated so much in my life. I can't really complain; next time I go back will be in June. We'll be just as crazy and it'll be twice as humid.

We found a pair of cattle horns in Aaron's garage after the show. It really didn't take much thought before we decided to mount them to the front of my truck. Why not, eh? It seemed fitting, considering I'll be heading to Texas for four nights on Wednesday and there's nothing like fitting in. They'll love me there. The last time he and I did anything with my truck, I left with a number 3 spray painted on the side. It's a shame it's not there anymore. I'm going to miss that guy. Big Brother.

Here's a video of Kalyn and I doing, "Who Cries Over Dead Spiders" in Orlando. It was completely un-rehearsed and she didn't know the words but it turned out okay.