The Long Weekend
CANADA TOUR BLOG

there is, i think, a strange phenomenon that takes place in the south desert sky at night. it's not so much a convergence of stars (this, you'll recall, is actually more common at lat.'s +45.000, esp. 52.884-53.220 ), as it is a convergence of sound, like a great vacuum has come to claim (reclaim?) all the scattered dull hisses, clicks, and whistles that have been misplaced all over the solar system, has sucked them all up, compressed them into the tiniest little piece of pure matter, pure being, and then gently rolled the whole ball out against the sky. that's how hot and quiet it is down here.

and underneath this suffocating tarp, hundreds of thousands of miles below, the human wavelength is violently out of sync with itself... all drunk in the parking lot, running back and forth, and beer cans getting tossed one way or maybe another i'm not quite sure to be honest, and naked men, naked grown men pouring gallons of water over their beautiful bodies in the middle of the street while beautiful friends laugh and beg for them to pause please just pause just one more moment so that i can get this so that i can keep it and have it forever.

and underneath that, even, the emotional wavelength (operational at 3-30mHz (see: "Basic Radio", Lowell et. al.)), yes underneath the sheets, the emotional wavelength confronts the world in confusion and asks, its hands thrown toward the sky in disbelief: why am i here? why am I here? in this desert wasteland? why are my stumpy little legs buried to the shins in this seaside breeze? wherefore mountains? why M on that, L on this? why 2% and not 20? and somehow, the single endless infinite voice calls out in response across an unbridgeable abyss to tell, to try to tell us, to try so earnestly, and so meaningfully and so urgently to tell us how it is we've ended up passed out fuckedup and overheated under fluorescent lights, to shake our bodies by the shoulders and say isn't it,isn't it because you love us? and because we love you? and we say well yes that's what we thought, but i'm so fucking hot how is it that you're not hot? and they tell us the heat, well, i guess you just get used to it, but i can understand if you're just passing through for the night, surely it must make you uncomfortable. perhaps it does and perhaps we do get tired. but friends, here is our greatest secret, our secretpower: we have not forgotten just as you have not forgotten that our love sings out every night, and like everything else in this desert gets sucked up into that strange fucking sky vacuum and trapped there and so take it and have it here to keep - for our love is now your love! - and if you wish, take your clothes off, until you are completely naked, and lay on your back in your outdoor swimming pool, and with the whole of this love spread out across the night sky and with your ears underneath the surface of the water listen carefully to the shifting gears of the great white superwagon and the distant barking of lost mountain dogs and the chorus of other various jetplanes and oceanliners, all of which are all somewhere, right now, still working tirelessly to carry love toward some of the many ends on this earth.

Labels: fall, scooters, vacation

Hello.
You'll all be thrilled to know that our three L.A. shows were wonderful, painful, and also stretched us to the limits of what we are able to percieve as reality. Sometimes I have to call people and ask for advice on how to tour and not lose my mind.
We drove to Arizona yesterday and kept the air conditioning on the whole time. When we finally got out of the van, we were in the middle of the desert, and it was 110 degrees outside (literally). I thought I would have a stroke and die right then and there. But I didn't, and almost 5 liters of water and only two trips to the bathroom later I'm doing much better.
The show last night was at a small-ish art gallery, which was pretty nice for a change of pace from playing in bars. The people were extremely nice. That's really all I can say about that. We're staying with Kaylan's Aunt Peg, and she's been feeding us enough food that I imagine it's not out of the realm of possibility that she's getting us all fat so she can try and eat a few of us. Hopefully I make it back alive. We go to Tuscon today. Wish us luck. -J.

Hello people who read our blog.
This is my first post to said blog.
Enjoy.

Today I woke up and decided that my tolerance for being eaten by a shark was at an all-time low, so I stayed in while the rest of my bandmates went to the beach. It was awesome, I didn't get eaten by a shark once. We play at a place called Spaceland tonight. I'm told it should be a great time, and I'm inclined not to disagree with people when they are being reassuring. Everything here is bigger than it is in Michigan. I'm not sure if that means it's also better, but everything is relative so I'm also not sure if that matters.

We went to a museum yesterday, and I met the actress who plays John Cusack's crazy girlfriend in High Fidelity. You know, when he leaves her apartment halfway through, he looks at the camera and whispers, "I could've had sex just then", yeah that girl. She was short and still talked with her raspy voice which I always thought was fake but isn't. It was great because I was in the garden and surrounded by flowers and trees and also a waterfall. Man-made, but a waterfall none the less.

I'm having fun on tour. I think that it's a good thing for me to be doing, because when I'm at home I don't really go out too much unless I'm playing or know someone who is, so being forced to interact with a wide variety of people every day is great. We're staying with people and they are all being fantastically hospitable. One woman bought us pizza and beers and let us watch movies on her big TV. We ate at the oldest bar in Montana a few days ago. It had the largest buffalo head I've ever seen. Judging by the size of it's head, the buffalo must have been 10 feet tall. Maybe not, I don't really know anything about buffalo. But it was big, I can say that.

Anyways, I'm going to go change clothes and get ready to go to the bar. Wish us luck, we need all that we can get.

Love - J.

Los Angeles. I feel like I'm back in Greece enjoying another apéritif with Chloe or Sean, driving around looking for the brightest patch of sky to die behind. Is the weather and temperature REALLY like this year round? I keep getting nervous and at least once every hour or two find myself counting the bodies around me....one, two, three, four, five, six...oh yeah, me, seven, we're all here, Canada still endures. It makes me feel a bit crazy while making me feel a bit secure.

We were riding the tram car up the mountainside today to the Getty Center and I marveled at the surrounding hills with their mile high palm trees and secluded private sanctuaries behind who's pillared halls my deepest thoughts could hardly guess what took place, and I thought about how earthquakes happen here. Like real earthquakes. I imagined Canada tumbling down the mountainside to the 405 below, our bodies glistening red and broken in the afternoon light, cracks in the earth cradling our bodies, our final embraces. We made it up to the museum though and we parted ways with eachother, and our good friend Pat whom we are staying with for four days, whom Amy has been friends with for 15 years and who no longer has a beard, though it is now starting to grow back. I fell in love with the architecture, designed by Richard Meier, whos cold white Le Corbusier style I really didn't dig when I first learned about him and his work in school, but now that I've seen the Getty, I truly am seeing it in a new light. It is very gorgeous, made of rough cut travertine with whispers of fossils, and when the Californian light hits it it looks like heaven. The gardens are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The zig zagging path that leads you down to the circular labyrinthine hedges almost made me faint. I know I am bordering on boring, so let me just say that the only other thing worth mentioning from my experience at the Getty was falling in love with the photographer Peter Henry Emerson. He blew my mind. It was some of the most beautiful photography I have ever seen. I bought his book.

We did some touristy things and had a great meal at Souplantation. Back at Pat's we watched a disturbing documentary on LA gangs. Drank some beers. But I see I forgot to mention Reno.

Reno was a sad and crazy place. We were stunned by the beaten citizens of this city, chipped teeth and whiskey breaths, violent atmosphere. We traversed a maze of slot machines in one casino to the back of the top floor where a secret hidden diner was located and had a very greasy but very satisfying meal. No money was won.

Our dear and lovely old cellist Eileen, who is from Reno, was in town and made it out to our show. We even managed to get her on stage for two songs, Record Function and Asleep In Leaves. It was so incredible and so fun and so nice to play with her again, even if for two songs. Thank you Kaylan for the fabulous idea! It was a very sweet moment for us all.

Other than driving through the desert and having some of the best laughs of our lives, the rest must remain secret. Some things cannot be explained or even attempted as justice cannot be done to them. We are definitely closer as friends and as bandmates than ever before and this fact fills me with white hot love. One last thing though, we all have nicknames now. I am Steve Z The Squirrel, Joe is Pokey Joe, Saul is Pappa Saul, Ryan is Baby, Shaul is Buddha, Amy is Freddie the Face, and Kaylan is Cupcake, or Cuppy.

My hands hurt from typing. All of this has been so beautiful....it reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses after a long drive and realize it's earlier and lighter out than you had accounted for.

S

There is still love here in San Francisco. This city danced me until my feet hurt and took me home in its arms. But first,

Seattle. A city I could live in. Hip kids in cute clothes, delicious coffees, histories and stories....we played a crazy set at Atlas Clothing with Calvin Johnson and Julie Doiron, which was completely insane to me. Calvin Johnson put on one of the most interesting shows I've ever seen, and Julie won my heart over three dozen times during her set. She has such control over her voice and her fingers and her body, it was gorgeous to see an hear. I had no idea what we were doing playing with either of them, we felt like kids in an adult talent show.

Stayed with the lovely Terri of 826 Seattle. Her apartment was just about the coolest and most gorgeous place I had ever seen let alone slept in. I spent three hours that night walking around in the dark just looking....again with the eyes hurting.

Portland was nice. Our show with old Ann Arborite Dustin was very fun. Played in the middle of the floor, sipping whiskey in the dark. A great band called The Neighborhood Choir were really great, and you should check them out. They are from Philadelphia.

It is a 12 hour drive from Portland to San Francisco, which is where we had to be next. Ryan and Aaron, bless their hearts, took it upon themselves to drive us through the night non-stop so we could get to San Francisco with time to actually see the city. Around 4am we tragically had an accident with a dog in the middle of the freeway somewhere in the mountains and we were all startled and shaken to our cores. We had to stop in a very small town called Wolf Creek for gas and the attendant who came out to pump our gas had sunglasses on even though it was almost 5am. The only other thing I can recall from the trip was waking up just as the sun was rising over the fog shrouded mountains and loving Aaron Shaul more than I ever have, which is quite a whole lot, if you must know. It was a glorious thing to behold and I again felt like the luckiest person alive.

San Francisco, you've won my heart, I give in. This city, with its scarily steep streets and characters, has enthralled me. Lots of walking, lots of looking, lots of loving. 826 Valencia, with its Pirate Supply Store, was just about the cats meow as far as places to see.

We played the most amazing show, let me tell you about it. It was at this bar called Amnesia and their beer is deadly good. We met the band we were playing with, Or, The Whale and they were so nice. They said the show was going to be great, so I was excited. By the time we took the stage the entire place was crammed with the most beautiful and attentive people I have ever seen. I wanted to hug them all. The stage was wobbely and small and we had an incident with a bass guitar string, but the show ended up being one of the best we have ever played, in no small part to the lovely audience and the amazing kids of Or, The Whale. And let me tell you the next part of the tale, and that is this, when they took the stage I almost couldn't believe it. They were so fucking incredible, their songs and melodies and stage antics and presence were a mix that damn near ended my life. They are by far one of the very best live bands I have ever seen. They all have such wonderful voices, and the lyrics are so perfect for the music and they are all so kind and so beautiful....I felt like we were playing with a band that one day we would look back on and say we played with them back when....I didn't want the night to end. Please check out their website and listen to them and buy their music and be their friends....we are playing with them in August at Chris Bathgate's farm house and I can tell you this, dear lads and ladies, I am couting down the days....

So here we are in Le Duke's apartment, taking turns showering, Aaron, bless his heart, is hopefully fast asleep....he still hasn't slept since leaving Seattle two days ago....our minds are full of things we have seen and done and I am about ready to burst....and there is still so much more coming. Tomorrow is Reno and after that a couple days off....and then LA. I can only imagine it will be worth writing about.

Now it's the desert at dusk. The sky is blue chrome. I pick one sequin from your dress and then kiss it. I put the sequin into the sky. "That's my star," I say. "And I'm your cowboy."

S

It is 3:21 am and, once again, I am in the wonderful basement from the previous post. I am moving to Missoula. We had the entire day to wander this glorious city and I fell so swiftly and violently in love with this place, no words can rightfully describe it. The hills call out to me. The river calls out to me. The people call out to me. The streets, food, smells, sounds and sights call out to me. My six senses are overwhelmed and overcome. I drown in this paradise. This is by far the best day (two technically) of tour so far. Monday night show and the entire city comes out, in no small part to Mike and the wonderful kids who run the scene here. They know what they are doing. We love them so dearly. Played billards and pinball and drank many beers prior to the show in this wonderful underground pool hall where Mike worked. Whiskey, vodka and breakfast at Oxford's again. Saul wins $150 playing Keno. Crazy discussions about Salinger and monsters with guitars. I drink too much PBR and by six o'clock end up wandering the streets looking at the buildings, which are made of gold and glass and air and glitter in the mountain light. I hear angels singing from passing taxi cabs, they have their sleeves rolled up and their arms are tattooed with the most beautiful images I have ever seen. The homeless here look they have been to hell and back, but are as kind as mothers and if they hugged me I'd never let them go. I love them all. I am moving to Missoula.

The Loft is incredible. Another encore night. It felt so good to finally play with such a great band, whom you should check out called The Good Neighbor Policy. It was even better playing to an actual crowd of people instead of just the sound guy and the door lady (Oh, Salt Lake!). And even MORE wonderful that they seemed to really enjoy our show. It was like our old days at The Blind Pig, people really seemed to dig us and see us and get what we are about. If I could marry them all, or one at a time, I'd do so and not look back. Bless the hearts of those beautiful kids of Missoula, Montana. They are all so stunning. I'm moving here, did I mention that?

Back after the show, our host bought us pizza and a case of PBR. We chatted with her for a bit and I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be alive and breathing, seeing and doing what I am doing and seeing. Quite possibly two of the best days of my life have just been lived and here I am still ticking, Oh Lords of Fate! Oh Missoula, I miss you already, and I haven't even gone.

You are a jewel in the crown of our summer tour, and you shall always shine bright.

S

It is 2am and we are in the basement of this wonderful lady's house whose name is Liz. She is putting us up for two nights here in Missoula, Montana. The last week has been one of the most amazing and unexplainable weeks I've ever lived. Just traveling through Montana and Wyoming alone, through vast misty mountains and valleys as wide as entire oceans, whose deep dense forests threaten to lure me into their dark paths never to be seen again, has made this escapade worth it. There are no words, my children, for how beautiful this country really is. All the tv programs and photographs I have ever seen did not prepare me for the grandeur and beauty that is spread thick upon this incredibly wide and majestic land.

My eyes hurt from looking, and do not open wide enough to take it all in.

From Fargo, where we rescued an inflatable Godzilla from the green room after drinking a case of Heineken, to Omaha, whose pizza parlours have in-house drum circles and where we met the bass player from 4 Non Blondes, to Lawrence whose heat was brutal and where we met the nicest punk rock kids ever, to Denver where White Rabbits slew in their fancy NYC blazers and tight jeans and disappeared without a trace back into whatever hat they came from, to Salt Lake City where, surrounded by mountains, and full of the weakest PBR we've ever tasted, we stayed up late talking about dreams and sounds with our new wonderful friend Will and yet another lovely Swedish girl....every show has been amazing. The audiences have been generally small, but every person in attendance has been so responsive and SO kind and so nice and has bought shirts and cds and even cassette tapes to help us on our way. In Milwaukee, where we met many Hannas and one very kind Spencer who put us up for the night, one guy even paid forty dollars for a cd and refused change. The crowd demanded an encore...these are the kinds of nights that greet us at the end of beauteous travels on so many roads....one day Amy even grew a beard from screaming too loud....

Anyway, its late and we have a town to explore tomorrow. If you ever get the chance to drive to Missoula, Montana, do so, for the view alone. This city is gorgeous and is a lovely end to a lovely first week. We can't wait to wake up and open our eyes again and resume taking it all in. From the plane of slumber and the realm of smiling faces, we bid thee goodnight.

S

Canada loves Chicago. Canada loves The Beat Kitchen....our first official show of tour was quite lovely. We got into Chicago after our first drive in our new van, lovingly called Mothra (for the time being), and made it to beautiful Mollie's apartment (Mollie being beautiful, not her apartment, though her apartment is quite nice too). Steven's folks were in town so he went down to Grant Park to devour Chicago style hotdogs and plastic cups of beer at the Blues Fest. Some Canadians continued the time honored tradition of spending four hours at Reckless Records....others napped, others got tattoos of dragons snaking down their spines, and it was rumored that others were arrested for trying to smuggle rare cacti into the city, though they continue to deny it.

We got a call from The Word Play who were in the city to play a show. Their van broke down and they wanted to hang out, so when we got to the Beat Kitchen they were relaxing outside with their luggage. Sucks so bad, the poor kids. Break problems. It was lovely to see them though, they are such wonderful peoples. Brent has such a lovely beard, I wanted to roll around in it and coo like a wounded dove.

The Beat Kitchen is so wonderful. Frank, the sound man, made us sound so good I couldn't believe it was actually us playing. Bless his heart, I wish he could come with us on the rest of our tour and do our sound. John is always so kind and helpful, and the food is so delicious, and the beer is cold and fills you with a powerful sense of love and energy. We played with some very fun bands, very interesting shit. The first band was led by an accordian wielding singer and reminded me of my favorite Tom Waits moments. The turnout was not as good as last time (we played with Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos and those lovely bastards sold the place out), but it was great fun. Lots of old friends came out whome we hand't seen in ages (so brilliant seeing you Jarvis, Becki, Danielle, Brent, Ian, Kevin, Brandon). Stevens parents were in attendance, which was very nice. We had to play sans Joe as his brother is graduating from the Marines, and though he was greatly missed, we had a VERY fun time on stage, one of the funnest shows in a long time and a great way to start such a long trek. Ryan played the ever lovely Garden Wall and it sounded better than ever. Can't wait to start pulling out new songs we are still finishing, like Old Road and another song Ryan wrote that makes me cry.

It was a late night, and a lovely night, and we had trouble saying goodbye to everyone as we knew we wouldn't be seeing most of them for a very long time. But it was a magic mystical evening and it couldn't have gone better. We even sold three cassette tapes, our minds were ripped.

Its morning now and Amy and Mollie are making us golden eggs and heaven toast and this coffee from the White Hen is delicious. The sun is shining bright and my benedryl is kicking in and I couldn't feel any better. We're off to Milwaukee now and our faces hurt from smiling.

Croquet-Sunday, and all the balls I sink are really sunsets so all around me night flies. The sky is crazy blue. The sky is crazy blue.

S