Wassaic Project Summer Festival - Wassaic, NY

Well folks, I've probably put this final post off for long enough. Unfortunately, you're hearing from me (Carl) again, and not my esteemed travel companion Kevin (who, now that I think about it, would probably want me to refer to him as my "roadie").

My roadie and I embarked toward Pittsburgh on Thursday morning, and thanks to his driving stamina (over five hours straight on that particular drive), we made it to my sister's house in a mere eight hours. We had a lovely time with Karen, Matt, Tom, Patti, and little Claire. After the latter three went to bed, we played an intense four-person game of Ticket to Ride (the American version), which was so fun that upon arriving home, I went out and purchased it for a friend's birthday, and Kevin went out and bought it for himself.


After the game, Kevin and I sat down for some quality reading time, as all English teachers do on summer nights:


Kevin and I rose and shone early the next morning so that we could make it to Wassaic, NY in time to set up our tent before dark. Along our route -- a string of highways that featured mostly gentlemen's clubs and adult super-stores -- this is one of the more wholesome (albeit puzzling) things we saw: an inflatable "Hamstar."


Below is a photo I took on William Penn Highway while Kevin was receiving a speeding citation (read: downhill speed trap for out-of-state drivers) from Pennsylvania Commonwealth Trooper Alberts. Commonwealth Trooper Alberts was kind enough to print out the citation on a piece of paper whose physical length resembled that of a scroll. He then invited Kevin to attend the hearing in a Pennsylvania courtroom. If he chose not to attend, he'd have to notify the magistrate of his plea via snail mail.


Suddenly, Pennsylvania seemed like an overwhelmingly pretentious place. "Commonwealth?" Citations on scrolls? "Magistrate?" C'mon, Trooper Alberts! Who are you trying to fool? The highway you were patrolling (which happens to be named after the same guy your state was named after) is lined with places called the Beehive Showbar, the Pumptown Tavern, and Club Coconuts. Let's just agree to call a state a state and a judge a judge from now on, okay?

Moving right along, here are a couple of Pennsylvania towns for television fans:


We arrived in the hamlet of Wassaic well before sundown and with plenty of time to set up our tent, which was lent to us kindly by a South Dakotan we both happen to know.


If you're wondering what a hamlet is (aside from being a despairing young Prince) you'll be happy to know that Kevin looked it up. According to dictionary.com, the British definition of a hamlet is "a village without a church of its own, belonging to the parish of another village or town." I happen to know that Wassaic has its own small church, though, since I performed right next to it (unless they stole that church from another town and transplanted it within the boundaries of their hamlet). So I suppose "hamlet" is just another name for a small village.



Church or no church, Wassaic is famous for being the place where condensed milk visionary Gail Borden opened a factory in 1861 to pursue his noble cause: the production of milk that would not need refrigeration.

Ever since 1861, it doesn't seem like much has happened in Wassaic to contribute to the grand scheme of things. But a group of artists -- with help from the Wassaic community -- has been working to change that. The Wassaic Project's mission, according to their website, is to be "an artist-run sustainable, multidisciplinary arts organization that focuses on community engagement and facilitates artists and participants to exhibit, discuss, and connect with art, each other, our unique site, and the surrounding area." Pretty cool, huh?

The poster on the telephone pole below is strangely fitting for a place like Wassaic, which a number of folks described as being "economically depressed" for as long as anyone could remember.


It's so awesome to me that the members of a struggling town could come together to support and find inspiration in an artistic community like the one that's been taking root in Wassaic over the course of the last five years.

On or near the festival grounds, the community was a visible, active part of the event: townspeople (hamletspeople?) sold goods at a barn sale, local restaurant employees stood at small stands hawking their food, and the volunteer fire department hosted a pancake breakfast. And the art itself? Displayed in the refurbished 7-story mill at the center of the village (apparently, the mill is a site for artist residencies throughout the entire year), most of it was arguably better (perhaps "more engaging" is a better way of phrasing it) than what you'd see in many wings of the Art Institute of Chicago.


















I just remembered -- I haven't really talked about the music yet, have I? On Friday night, Kevin and I saw most of the bands that performed behind the Luther Barn, including a dance-pop band called Free Blood whose lead singer looked like a thinner, trench coat-wearing version of Brett Favre. We also saw an experimental rock band in the barn's auction house, which used to be an actual auction area for cattle. After roughly ten minutes of bickering about the lighting situation, an audience of intoxicated, light bulb-removing twenty-somethings (and a grizzled old man) staggered into position in the wooden bleachers, the balconies on either side of the floor, and behind the cattle gates, ready to cheer on the noise they were about to encounter. It was an interesting experience that left us both eager for sleep.

The next afternoon, upon exiting the mill's art gallery, Kevin and I caught the end of Caitlin Canty's set on the stage outside. I honestly don't remember too much about it other than that it was very good. (I still must've had the art on my mind.) Kevin ended up creating a Caitlin Canty Pandora station and purchasing two of her CDs.


Here's me in a porta-john that happened to have an art installation inside.


A four-piece folk/bluegrass outfit called Thomas Wesley Stern:


Some guy making bubbles:


Me launching a slingshot:

Some guy playing music on the Maxon Mills stage:


After my set, Kevin and I stumbled upon a screening of four short films in the auction ring. I was a bit skeptical about the quality of the films going in (I guess I was expecting camcorder-wielding hacks presenting movies that were eerily similar to, but somehow even far less coherent than Pi), but they ended up being fantastic. Little Horses, a humorous but poignant short film directed, written, and edited by Levi Abrino, was co-written by the guy who won last year's Oscar for short live-action film. The Substitute, an Israeli film about women in the military, has received so many honors and awards I won't name them here. And 'The Strange Ones,' which was filmed in a location somewhat near Wassaic, was a selection at this year's Sundance Festival. Awards and honors aside, these were great films coming from talented young filmmakers. I wouldn't be surprised to see them making feature-length films for a wider audience sometime in the future. [Unfortunately, I don't remember the name of the fourth film, but I do remember it being my least favorite of the three (by a smidgeon). I should also mention that two of the films were introduced by their directors; they didn't say much, but it was cool nonetheless.]


Later that night, it rained and poured, so Kevin and I ended up hitting the tent early after helping a couple bands load gear into their trucks. (Due to the weather, the organizers decided to move the live music to a local bar, and an intern named Jacqui mistakenly thought I had muscles with which to move the gear.) I really wanted to see a couple of the bands that night, but we ended up favoring the dry confines of our tent when the rain refused to let up. We even missed out on a midnight showing of the widely-banned 1988 Todd Haynes film Superstar, in which Barbies are used as "actors" in telling the Karen Carpenter story. I'm pretty sure the opportunity to see that particular film in an old cattle auction facility won't come around again any time soon, so I'm a little bummed...

Thanks so much to Scott for inviting me to play the festival, as well as to everyone else involved in putting it on. We had a great time, and it was an honor to be the musician who traveled the furthest to play there.

So there you have it - the end of the tour for Tricia and me. We drove over 10,000 miles for 17 shows, thankfully with no accidents and no tickets (except for Kevin's). It wasn't exactly the most financially viable trip, but we looked at it as more of a cheap vacation anyway. On the upside, we saw some wonderful things we've been meaning to see for awhile, and we had the opportunity to play music with and for some pretty cool people. You couldn't really ask for much more than that.

Except a band. And Tricia and I are already working on that.

Thanks to everyone for supporting us this summer (in so many ways), and thank you for reading and making these blog posts worthwhile.

-Carl

Backyard Show - Ypsilanti, MI

If we needed an antidote for Waynesburg, Ohio -- and I think we'd both argue that we certainly did need one -- we received it the next afternoon in Ypsilanti, Michigan, in the form of a laid-back potluck barbecue and backyard show. The weather was beautiful, the company was fantastic, and there were no ticks (other than the leftover one I had to remove from Tricia's neck).

One of the first people we met upon arriving was Bianca Garza, a photographer traveling around the United States on a Bowling Green research/project grant to document a variety of DIY/house concerts and write about how they fit into the larger culture/community of musical performance. I'm pretty interested in reading the 20+ page paper she was working on, along with seeing the photos, of course. She'll probably be posting the photos at some point, but until then, you can always browse through her shots of musicians who are much more renowned than yours truly: www.biancagarza.com


In addition to the backyard show, which I'll get to in a minute, Joanie Newberry was displaying some of her artwork in the front two rooms of the house. Though all of her paintings were superb, one of my favorite pieces was a sculpture called "Prison," in which two white forearms with hands on each end (there aren't any elbows in prison, you see) are clutching hold of the bars of a double-backed black chair. It was a simple yet provocative piece that effectively embodied the mood of much of her other work. If you'd like to view some of her art, I encourage you to visit her website: www.wix.com/Joanie937/JoanNewberry

Here's a photo of Mark "Grillmaster" Fain, who cooked me up a mean burger:


After Tricia and I performed for an attentive bunch of lawn loungers, Little Island Lake took the grassy stage for what you might call a hangover set. They had just played an album release show the previous night (Gun Lake performed as well, if I'm not mistaken), and they were still a bit worn out from the festivities. Nevertheless, the music sounded great and it was easy to see that they were having fun making it. Eric Hurd's drumming was tasteful, and the interplay between the stringed instruments matched the overall pleasantness of the afternoon. One of the highlights was hearing Mary Fraser's piercingly beautiful vocals in "Traverse." You can stream the studio version of that song using the Bandcamp player below, but be sure to check out the rest of the album too.



Here's a video of them performing another song live. I'm not sure of the title, since it's not on their new album.





Gun Lake was the final musical act of the late afternoon / early evening. Instead of being joined by his full band (which would've included former Grayslakean, current Michiganian, and future New Yorker Brian Trahan), Mark Fain went the solo route and performed songs from Gun Lake's excellent debut album Balfour alone. As a full quartet, the band boasts Grizzly Bear-style harmonies and layered instrumentation that seem to perpetually walk the line between the warmly familiar and the hauntingly distant. But when Mark played the songs alone, they took on more of a Mark Kozelek quality -- sparse and subdued, but deceivingly full of emotion and power. Here's a video of Mark (Fain, not Kozelek) playing "Stormy Country." After watching the video, do yourself a favor and listen to Balfour just below it. After listening to the whole thing, you might as well buy it.





Sadly, that was Tricia's and my last show together for the summer, but I still have yet to blog about my trek with an English cohort out to the Wassaic Project Festival in New York this past weekend (unless he decides to do it). Until then, good afternoon and good luck.

Driving Music:
Air - Talkie Walkie
Josh Ritter - So Runs the World Away
M. Ward - Transfiguration of Vincent
The Last Broadcast - Matthew EP
Madeleine Peyroux - Careless Love
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
S. Carey - All We Grow
Little Island Lake - Jawbones
Band of Horses - Everything All the Time
The Tallest Man on Earth - Sometimes the Blues is Just a Passing Bird EP
Cass McCombs - Catacombs

Some Field - Waynesburg, Ohio

We arrived in Waynesburg hungry but unsure of where to eat, given that our choice was either McDonalds or one of a few local restaurants. Cibo's was among these few local eateries, and the fact that it was located in what used to be a movie theatre called The Mohawk was what helped us come to a decision. We soon found ourselves in a large space with blazons adorning the wall that I'd imagine would be appropriate for some kind of medieval tournament.


The banner at the top of the Cibo's website proudly declares Waynesburg, Ohio to be "The Spaghetti Capital of the World," an audacious claim, considering the fact that it's referring to an American (read: not Italian) town with a population of less than a thousand people and only one Italian restaurant.

Here's a tip for all the entrepreneurs out there: when you're indirectly calling yourself the best at something, you'd better be pretty darn good at it, or else you're doing both others and yourself a disservice. If I'm going to be eating mediocre pasta at a restaurant, I'd prefer the honesty of a sign that reads "Edible pasta cooked here seven days a week." That way I know exactly what I'm in for.

But at Cibo's, my first taste of what was in store was from a bowl of soup that oozed out over the edges like the displaced contents of a flu patient's stomach. I'm not sure if it was actually soup or if it was a vegetable medley smothered in spaghetti sauce; either way, my attempt to make it more palatable by dunking some of their bread in it was only mildly successful, since the bread was cold and had a bizarre after-note of glazed donut. When I looked across the table, I witnessed Tricia strategically breaking down dense chunks of iceberg lettuce while a mysterious dressing (possibly watered-down Elmer's glue) puddled slowly at the bottom of her plate. We took turns smiling unconvincingly across the table, as if to say "What are we doing with our lives?" There would be plenty more of those looks exchanged later on that night, but I'm getting ahead of myself...



When it came to the main dish, both of us decided upon the "all day special," which gave us the choice of gnocchi or rigatoni along with one meatball. If you're thinking that a single meatball sounds a bit frugal on the restaurant's part, think again. It was more than enough, but I suppose that was the case for the wrong reasons.

The lone meatball was a flavorless sphere of disappointment whose blandness was amplified only by a sauce that would leave Italians drooling over Ragu. In case you're interested in picking some up, the sauce was being sold at the cash register for $6 a jar.

Disclaimer: I fully recognize that it's all too easy to tear down what someone has built up with years of hard work based on one dining experience; perhaps it was simply a bad night for Cibo's, and their chef was going through a situation similar to what Kurt was going through in the "Gourmet Night" episode of Fawlty Towers. And maybe I'm just a snotty restaurant-goer like young Ronald, who appears earlier in the same episode (see clip below). After all, two different reviewers on Yelp gave the place 4 out of 5 stars.



After dinner, we headed over to the field where we'd end up playing music to a sizeable crowd of young people who, for the most part, didn't come for the purpose of listening to music.


I'd tell you more, but what happened in Waynesburg stays in Waynesburg, especially the car that reportedly ended up halfway in the pond (that's probably difficult to remove) and the girl who wouldn't stop hula hooping (I'm sure she's still at it in the same field).

Unfortunately, the only things that didn't stay in Waynesburg were the ticks. They decided to come along with us for a couple days, much to our dismay.



Driving Music:
TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
Gun Lake - Balfour
Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American
Juniper Tar - Howl Street EP
Mavis Staples - You Are Not Alone

The Strutt - Kalamazoo, MI

We've been slacking with our blog posts again, but we happen to have legitimate excuses: I've been out East without much internet access, and Tricia's been doing enough work for two Tricias combined. Excuses won't do anything about the 4 shows we still have to blog about, though, so here goes nothing.

The Strutt in Kalamazoo, Michigan was one of our favorite venues from last summer's tour, so we decided to squeeze it into this year's schedule despite the fact that it isn't exactly out West. Rather than performing in the smaller, more whimsically-decorated side room like we did last year, we played under the dim lights of the main stage. It was a fairly tranquil crowd, which is something we've come to appreciate.

Jessi Phillips took the stage first with a voice reminiscent of Jenny Lewis' and Neko Case's would-be lovechild. A Michigan native, Jessi moved to Oakland, CA to take on a high school teaching position (kind of like me, except for the whole Oakland thing); she returned to the Kalamazoo area just for the summer to work on writing a book and recording an album. If you can't tell, she's pretty ambitious. Here's her cover of Whiskeytown's "Matrimony."



Next up was Tricia, and then it was my turn. Since we usually just put up videos of other people performing, here's one of me playing "Milt the Stilt."



Deep Waters was the headlining act, and rightfully so, since they were releasing an LP (in several different vinyl color choices) that night. Before the rain started pouring with an apocalyptic fervor -- something we'd become disturbingly used to during the month of July -- the trio played a brief set of lulling, synth-laden soft rock in front of blinking, multi-colored lights. To me, they sounded like Gayngs without the irony.




After the show, we stayed at my brother-in-law's parents' house in nearby Portage, where I foolishly preheated the oven without removing the baking dishes that were stored inside. Although I was reassured multiple times by both Sandy and Patti, I still feel bad about it...

Just remember: while real rock stars are out there trashing hotel rooms, we're melting Tupperware in extended family members' homes.

Driving Music:
Weezer - (Blue Album)
Various Artists - Seven Swans Reimagined

Grayslake Area Public Library - Grayslake, IL

Ahhh... Home... We were able to experience it for just about enough time to open the windows, bring the mail inside, and close the windows. Then it was off to pick up a PA before heading to the Grayslake Area Public Library to set up.

I had performed at my hometown library twice in the past, both times when I was still in high school. One of these "concerts" took place in an indoor meeting room, where I sang to no more than 15-20 people using a drooping microphone that was skillfully jerry-rigged with masking tape. The other concert was pretty much the same, with the exception that it took place outdoors.

Given these past experiences, it was a bit of a surprise for Tricia and me when we were setting up the PA around 6 PM (over an hour before we were slated to begin) and a flock of senior citizens began staking out spots in the front row of the seating area. Clearly, we were going to be playing for a demographic much different than the one we'd become accustomed to over the course of the previous four weeks. Different in what way, you ask? For one, they had presumably eaten supper during the wee hours of the afternoon, so they would already be getting hungry again around the start of the show. The question was, what could we -- a pair of musicians -- do to appease their discontent before it spiraled out of control?

Luckily, Merleanne, the wonderful woman responsible for organizing the library's summer concert series, had come up with a terrific solution. No, she didn't set up a bingo-themed Old Country Buffet in the parking lot. She did, however, manage to get a Culver's employee to hand out ice cream during the show; it was free, so they didn't even have to pull out their AARP cards. But that wasn't all. Merleanne gave Tricia and me the task of asking trivia questions to the audience between songs; the prizes for correctly answering these questions weren't measly key chains or koozies, but pairs of actual Ravinia tickets. The summer concert series had truly become a fun (and incentive-laden) event for the whole family. (Seriously, where was Merleanne's promotional savvy when I played at the library back in high school?)

In the end, even though our trivia creation abilities were horrendous, we had a good time performing in front of the respectable slice of Grayslake that came out for the show. It was especially nice to see family, friends, co-workers, former students, and a slew of energetic toddlers among the crowd. Their faces (along with our two days of not traveling on the 26th and 27th) collectively served as a rejuvenating force after what seemed like an aimless week and a half of traveling.

(photo courtesy of Mr. Jude Fischer)

Driving Music:
Blind Pilot - 3 Rounds and a Sound
Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary
Nathaniel Rateliff - In Memory of Loss
WBEZ!

Lemmons - St. Louis, MO

I'll be honest, folks. Kansas and Missouri aren't the most exciting states. And Topeka and St. Louis aren't the most exciting cities, especially when you're still in a daze from seeing so many cool places out West. For that reason, astute readers of this blog will probably notice a significant reduction in the amount of photos that appear in the posts from this point forward. No offense, Kansans and Missourians...

The hosts for our evening in St. Louis were another one of my college classmates, Brandon, and his girlfriend Kirsten, who had just moved into a lovely little home just outside of the city. Like Yana in Portland, Brandon studied English and Secondary Education but ultimately chose not to become a teacher. Instead, he trained to become a police officer. (I must add that another classmate who decided not to become a teacher, Rayna, came to the show in St. Louis. My question is, where were all my classmates who actually ended up working as teachers during this tour -- too busy enjoying their summer off?)

Brandon was kind enough to offer a show and tell that covered each and every piece of equipment on his police belt, including his gun (the first one I'd held since Boy Scouts), a hefty retractable nightstick (which, I assure you, would be extremely painful to be bludgeoned with), and handcuffs (I offered my own wrists for the sake of demonstration). It was interesting to hear tales about being a cop from someone whom I know to be laid-back and reasonable, especially since many people are under the impression that the fuzz is always out to get them. No, most cops aren't actively looking to ticket you for driving 5 over, and no, most cops aren't going to tase you, bro. There are just a few jerks out there, and you have to remember that there are jerks in every profession. Just don't ask me if there are a disproportionate amount of jerks in the police force...

When Brandon left for his shift around mid-afternoon, Tricia and I watched a bit of baseball with Kirsten, took a much-needed nap, and then headed over to our venue for the evening, Lemmons.

When life gives you Lemmons, you actually end up having a decent show. Although the local Schlafly brews tasted a bit like discolored water, the complimentary pizza was satisfying, the audience listened (somewhat), and the people were friendly.

Michael Trieb kicked off the show with delicate guitar work and a set of pipes that was at times reminiscent of Ben Gibbard's. Two facts about Michael surprised us: 1) he had switched his major at Greenville College not once, but seven times, and 2) he had only been playing for two years.



After Tricia and I each performed, Jordan Heimburger took the stage to showcase his country blues solo project, Poorman's Tonic. As soon as the slide came out, twangy riffs in open G and open D smoked and sizzled from the PA speakers, and North Mississippi Allstars immediately came to mind. I thought it was fitting, then, that Jordan decided to cover R.L. Burnside's take on the traditional blues song "Peaches."



The final act of the night, The Rusty Shacklefords, had just taken on a brand new moniker inspired by the television cartoon King of the Hill. The duo was made up of an acoustic guitarist and an upright bass player, the latter of whom sang a song in public for the first time ever that night. (That takes guts.) The song we captured below, however, is not that song...



After the show, we returned to Brandon's and Kirsten's for a good but short night's sleep before beginning our trek up to hometown Grayslake.

Driving Music:
Dave Brubeck Quartet - Time Out
Wilco - Kicking Television: Live in Chicago Discs 1 & 2
Elsinore - Yes Yes Yes
Arcade Fire - Funeral

Billy Vanilly - Topeka, KS

The time had come to end our week-long musical hiatus/real vacation. We got word from our friend Thad in Topeka, KS that he had thrown together a show for us at a cupcake shop founded by former Food Network Cupcake Wars participant, Allyson Fiander. We high-tailed it towards Kansas, eager to taste the cupcakes of a true master.

We first made a pit-stop in Lawrence, KS. As it turned out, Dan's band had a show scheduled in Lawrence on the same night we were planning to arrive in Topeka. Since the two cities are close in proximity, we decided to see the show. We missed Dan's show in Denver, so we were glad to get another chance. We got to see Caroline again as well; she was traveling with Dan to Lawrence for the wedding of a mutual friend. The show was enjoyable, but we were mostly happy to be able to spend another evening with friends.

The next day, we met Thad for lunch at Bobo's in Topeka, a tiny town treasure that had been featured on Guy Fieri's Diners, Drive-ins, & Dives. Bobo's is famous for their "Spanish Burger" and their home-made root beer, so Carl and I ordered those. The food was pretty good, but it didn't make my taste-buds dance as I had hoped. The special Spanish sauce tasted like Sloppy Joe sauce, which gave the exotically-labeled burger a familiar taste, but it didn't really scream "I'm a Spanish burger straight from Chris Columbus' cookbook" like it should have. The root beer was pretty creamy and smooth, and the made-from-scratch onion rings were notable, but anything fried and greasy just tastes fried and greasy after a few bites. Here's Guy Fieri's take on the place, though:

Fieri has such an easy job. He gets to act overly-excited about mundane ingredients going into recipes, then chow down on national television with a "don't-you-wish-you-had-this-job-and-my-hair" grin on his face.

I think the Food Network should hire us to re-judge each restaurant that its food critics have reviewed. Every show I've seen gives all restaurants rave reviews; where's the truth? Why don't the hosts just shrug their shoulders and say, "This is alright. I've had better..."? We all know they must think that sometimes. But I guess if I were to be paid as much as Guy Fieri for giving an exaggerated review of a restaurant, I'd do the same thing. For now though, folks, we've got the truth right here on the tour blog. Food Network, when you're ready to give the public honest restaurant reviews, you know where to find us. But I digress...

The afternoon was a piping 110 degrees Fahrenheit (Carl's car actually said 123, but we didn't have the camera at the time to document it), so we spent most of the afternoon sitting in Thad's living room enjoying the air conditioning.

The show at Billy Vanilly that evening wasn't too bad (especially for a show that was scheduled the day before). A few of Thad's co-workers showed up, as well as his brother-in-law and his roommate, so there were a few people to hear our sad, sad songs wilting in the summer heat.

On the bright side, we tried a few masterfully-crafted cupcakes. They were pretty tasty, but since it was so hot, the air conditioning couldn't save them from fatal frosting-melt. The frosting on my Death by Chocolate cupcake slid off the cake as I set my plate down on the table, so I didn't have much time to admire the aesthetics of it, but that didn't matter. The cake was moist and flavorful, but not too rich. The frosting (a little liquidy, but understandably so) was a lighter chocolate that complemented the cake well, and wasn't deathly overpowering (which was relieving). The flavor that "took the cake," however, was the Strawberry Shortcake. It was simple yet sublime. The strawberry flavoring tasted like true strawberry rather than the manufactured strawberry syrup that litters too many strawberry sweets. Like with the Death by Chocolate, the cake was moist and spongy, and it pulled apart perfectly without crumbling all over my lap. The frosting was simple and fluffy, topped with only a few sprinkles to add a tiny crunch to the tasting pleasure.

After the show, we went to a local brew-pub for some Topeka-made ales along with some dinner. The place was The Blind Tiger Brewery & Restaurant, the first microbrewery ever established in Topeka, Kansas. It was named after the Prohibition-era phenomenon of dive-bars charging patrons to see "exotic" animals (i.e. stuffed tigers or simple farm pigs) for entertainment, then sneakily serving up a tumbler of gin or other sketchy bathtub-made beverage. Apparently, "blind tigers" and "blind pigs" still exist in certain areas of the US today (says Wikipedia), and we may have even played a show at one in San Francisco...

Carl and I both ordered the sampler, which included 4 flutes of any beer of our choice. All of them were enjoyable, but one stood out in particular: the Java Porter. It was thick and dark with strong notes of well-roasted coffee, balanced perfectly with hops to create a creamy coffee concoction of adult beverage radtasticness.

Our food was great as well. Carl got a fresh-grilled chili-crusted Talapia with rice and black beans, while I opted for the black bean quesadillas, I shared my family-sized plate with whoever was sitting to the left and right of me, we all enjoyed our brews, and then we headed back to Thad's to rest up for another long car ride.

When we arrived at Thad's, his roommate Eric Adell, who had joined us for dinner, mentioned something about writing his own music. Carl prodded a little more, and it wasn't long before he started rapping for us right there in the kitchen.



Worn out from the excitement of the day's events, we stumbled downstairs to the refuge of a cold basement and a comfy blow-up mattress.

Driving Music:
Megafaun - Heretofore
Strand of Oaks - Pope Killdragon
White Rabbits - It's Frightening
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz
Jackson C. Frank - Blues Run the Game
William Elliott Whitmore - Song of the Blackbird
King Crimson - In the Court of the Crimson King
Joanna Newsom - Ys
Leonard Cohen - Live in London Discs 1 & 2