Before we start trick or treating, we traveled to Iceland for the first time last year, playing our first date since the death of Lou Reed, and opened the show with “I’m Set Free.” Another Velvet Underground song closed our set in Minneapolis 27 years ago today. We were the odd band out on a cover band bill at the 7th Street Entry and not particularly thrilled about it, so we decided to share the love with 45 minutes or so of feedback as a lead-in to “Sunday Morning.” We’re much more in the Halloween spirit in Albuquerque 1995, so much so that we decide to masquerade as someone else. Admittedly it’s a spontaneous, last-second decision that comes about at the end of the night when one of our touring party backs the van into a parked car and is witnessed doing so by a policeman. Somehow said driver gets away with providing a fake name, convincing the officer that he or she (it wasn’t she) has no ID. As believable as the story no doubt was, one can’t help but think that the success of the ruse depended on the Albuquerque police having better things to do on Halloween than talk insurance with us. Especially since we don’t recall causing any actual damage, but if we dented your car, we apologize profusely. And that’s not even my favorite memory of the day. I can’t come up with the year, but Georgia and I were flying to the west coast with an acoustic guitar as part of our carry-on baggage. The airline told us we had to check it, which wouldn’t have pleased me under any circumstances, but was especially worrisome given the decidedly non-baggage-handler-friendly case I had. I argued with the all the gusto I could summon, an argument I of course lost. No shame in that, but it’s a little embarrassing to be bested by a ticket agent dressed for Halloween as a bunny rabbit. (The guitar made it through unscathed.)
