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

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!

Viracocha - San Francisco, CA

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco” – Mark Twain

San Franciscans love to repeat this quote, probably because nothing truer can be said about San Francisco in a month like July. The city was a cold, misty beast during our visit, and we were not anticipating it.

Despite the constant chill, San Franciscans were anything but cold. Unlike on the streets of Chicago, people acknowledged others’ presence, saying a friendly “hello” or challenging strangers on the other side of the street to an honest game of rock-paper-scissors (we really witnessed this, I swear). The rolling hills and stacked homes give the impression that the city is reaching over-crowdedness, but everyone seemed to have a “more-the-merrier”-type attitude.

We stayed with our friend Mac, who proved to be a very informative tour guide even though he'd lived in the area for only 8 months. He walked us through Haight Street and gave us a rundown of the musical significance the area had back in the 70’s. Here are a few things we spotted on our walk:

festive buildings

four-eyed street sign thing in front of voluptuous lady-legs

poet for hire

Pilsen-esque murals

bowling alley-turned-independent music store (and a huge one at that)

Carl's retirement plan: a lawn bowling field

crotch-grabbing mural characters (look closely for this one in the top mural)

After exploring Haight Street for a bit, it was time to head to Viracocha for a sound check.

This tour hasn't been glamorous by any means, so we didn't have high expectations for the under-the-radar music/comedy/literature readings venue. When we got there, however, we were stunned into silence (one could say we were... petrified? Harry Potter? no?). The venue was in the basement of a very cute storefront that sells trinkets, art, music, clothing, and has a subscription-only library in the back. The employees were smiley-hipster types with an interest in seemingly anything intellectual. It was quirky and esoteric, but fun.

Like I said, the stage was downstairs, in a speakeasy meets barn-styled room. Short tables with chairs facing the stage were packed tightly together, lit by Pier 1 LED candles in cheetah-print glass candle holders. The walls were paneled with old wood, washboards, warm lights, and antique shutters strategically placed by a well-trained interior designer. We knew right from the beginning that this was one of the best-kept secrets of San Francisco.

The band we played with that evening was called All My Pretty Ones. Their normal set-up is a 7-piece band, but that evening they played 4-piece quartet style with cello, stand-up bass, oboe, and piano/guitar. It was their first time playing with only 4 members, but if they never mentioned it, no one would have ever known.

They were dynamic, played fantastic melodies bolstered by great harmonies, were all masters of their instruments, and had a blast on stage. Carl recorded my favorite song of the evening (see below), which was about someone with agoraphobia. Their song subjects were relevant, sometimes playful, and other times sad, but consistently interesting (their rendition of Kate Bush's "Wuthering Heights" as an encore was a great way to close out the night). They were by far the best band we've played with (and probably will play with) on this tour.

The next day, Mack had plans to see Harry Potter with a friend in the early afternoon. Since Carl and I were left to our own devices, we decided to take a walk before packing up and heading out. There was a park at the end of Mack's block up near Haight Street where he insisted we could get the best view of San Francisco, so we sauntered in that general direction.

While hiking up the giant hill that was Mack's favorite seedy park, we witnessed a few strange things. Most importantly, we did not get the best view of San Francisco, because the fog engulfed the entire city. What luck. Of lesser importance but still notable, we saw a very naked man stretched out like the Vesuvian man while we were hiking up the hill. He seemed to be going for a full body tan, but the problem was that he was emanating a stench to match that of the cows we drove past near Crater Lake. We also stumbled upon a crime scene where someone was murdered a few days before we arrived. Mack insisted that the park was entirely safe during the day, but after our explorations, we decided to not spend too much time in there.

We promptly climbed down the hill after reaching the top, packed our car, and drove north to see the Golden Gate Bridge.

To get close to the bridge, we traveled through a park, where we started seeing "view points." We stopped at one, not knowing what to expect, and ended up staring right at Alcatraz. While viewing the prison isle, a futuristic-looking vehicle sped past with a very audible robo-tour guide spouting off facts about the prison. I felt the same type of shock, confusion, and amusement that I did when I first saw a Segway tour in Chicago.

Staying true to the theme of the day, we couldn't see a thing when we arrived at the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog completely consumed the 1.7 mile-long bridge. We did fit in some great people watching though.

We left when the doughnuts were taken away from the birds - some guy ruined our fun. We hit some terrible traffic on our way out, but managed to catch a few fun things on camera:

Driving Music:
Little Scream - The Golden Record
Fionn Regan - The Shadow of an Empire
The Dead Weather - Horehound
Elbow - Leaders of the Free World
Menomena - Mines

Alberta Street Pub - Portland, OR

In the week following our stay in Portland, a few people have asked us what it was like. The photo above does a good job of summing things up, but since I don't have a smart phone that I can whip out for the purpose of showcasing pictures, the only appropriate response has been, "Have you seen Portlandia?" Like Portlandia tells you in its pilot's opening number, Portland truly is "a city where young people go to retire," and everyone does look like they're straight out of the 90s:



While in Portland, we stayed with an English Education classmate of mine named Yana, who knew long before graduating that she wanted to be a pastry chef rather than a teacher. In addition to working at a bakery, she is a part-time server at a Lebanese restaurant called Ya Hala. We happened to come into town on one of the nights she was serving, so we decided to dine there. Tricia ordered a tuna dish, and I ordered some kind of lamb casserole. I enjoyed tasting (and eventually stealing) Tricia's meal, but I didn't much care for the lamb casserole. Imagine a hockey puck, except instead of it being made of vulcanized rubber, it's made of densely-packed lamb. Then imagine three of these meat pucks stacked on top of each other, creating a short tower of Shari Lewis' favorite plaything. That's kind of like what my lamb casserole was like. Maybe I'm being unfair, though, because it tasted to me like pot roast, and I'm not a fan of pot roast.

Later that night, we talked for quite a while with Yana and her boyfriend Eric at their apartment in northeastern Portland. Just to tell you a little bit about Eric, he works as a professional video game tester, and he's currently reading Das Kapital (you know, a little bit of light reading). I'd tell you what game he's working on right now as well, but I'm afraid it's privileged information.

When we woke up the next morning, Tricia and I were determined to find Yana's bakery using Portland's public transportation. Like Seattle, Portland had a relatively new Light Rail service, and it too was smooth to ride and fairly easy to navigate. The problem was that we were confused by the address Yana had given us, and we ended up taking the Light Rail to the SW part of the city rather than the SE part (apparently, one of the few things Portlanders are passionate about is compass directions). Upon not finding the bakery there, we started walking. Perhaps hiking is a better word, because we walked so far that I for one took off my jacket and tied it around my waist like someone fixing to climb a small mountain (or a 90s soccer mom). All I needed was a fanny pack and I would've been on my way to fitting in with the other Portlanders.


Once we did get arrive (finally) at Crema Bakery, we attempted to buy the items pictured below, but Yana insisted they were on her. After a bit of "aww, shucks"-ing, we sat down to enjoy. And enjoy we did. Our favorite two items were the ones Yana recommended -- a corn biscuit smothered in cheddar, and a strawberry and blueberry tart with a hazelnut crust. Yana herself was responsible for the tart, and I must say in all honesty that it was the most delectable tart I've ever had. Step aside, French bakeries.


After some reading for me and some working for Tricia, we decided to head back to the SW part of the city, so we hopped on a bus. The kind-hearted (or negligent) driver told us $5 was enough for 2 all-day passes, even though the sign posted at the front of the bus said it was more like $9. Perhaps he was simply tired of seeing me fumble around with my wallet.


After some walking around, we took a shuttle to the International Test Rose Garden, per Yana's and Eric's recommendation. 'Twas a lovely and at times fragrant excursion, but in the end, a rose is a rose is a rose, and we had important business to take care of, like eating and playing a show.


Before the show, we dined with Yana and Eric at Frank's Noodle House. I ordered General Tso's chicken, which made me the only carnivore at the table. Tricia ordered noodles, which were both handmade and quite thick. I should mention that at Frank's, they give you metal chopsticks to pick your noodles up with. (Fellow English teachers, please don't give me any guff for choosing to end certain sentences with prepositions.)


After the meal, we headed up to the Alberta Street Pub, where they apparently know how to spell "cheap ass booze" correctly, but not the last names of their musical performers.


The Alberta Street Pub's music room was pretty unique in that old church pews served as seating. As a result, everyone felt guilty about talking during the show, leaving us with a quiet and fearful audience. Since then, I've considered charging concert-goers a one-dollar donation to light a candle and write down songs they're hoping to hear.

I opened the evening and Tricia closed. In between was local Portland act Felecia and the Dinosaur, a duo made up of Felecia Campbell on vocals and guitar and David Evan on drums. Since Felecia is accounted for in the moniker, I can only assume that David is actually a stegosaurus.

The two certainly had some entertaining song titles, and fortunately they performed some quality songs to match them. The style and sound varied between tunes, ranging from intimate and soulful to upbeat and percussive (all with an inexplicable punk aesthetic). Felecia offered to cook us breakfast the next day, a kind gesture that we unfortunately didn't take her up on.




We left PDX (we're under the impression that this is hip local lingo for "Portland", but we could be wrong) the next afternoon, headed for nowhere in particular... We'll explain in the next post. Or two.

Driving Music:
Jethro Tull - Benefit
Liza Day and the Northbound Trestle Singers - Liza Day and the Northbound Trestle Singers
Low - The Great Destroyer