Category: News

Eugene, Oregon really rolled out the red carpet for our first visit, on this date in 2011 during our spinning wheel tour. The stage crew at WOW Hall went above and beyond, repairing the crate the wheel traveled in.  Someone brought us a box of Voodoo Doughnuts at the beginning of the night, and someone else invited us to Jameson’s for drinks at the end. The show went great, once we made the executive decision to declare Spin Again when the wheel landed on The Sounds of Science, part 1 for the third night in a row. We had the Urinals up from L.A. to open, and during our encore, we all played “Surfin’ with the Shah” together.

 

 

 

 

Our first trip out west, in 1988, does not bring us as far north as Oregon or Washington, but we are racking up the miles on I-5.  Since last we visited this tour we’ve traveled to Berkeley, and now on February 19, we’re back in L.A. for a doubleheader: an acoustic set at the late, great Rhino Records followed by a sold-out show at the Club Lingerie, opening for House of Freaks and the Pontiac Brothers.  It’s no fun at all.  We play early to an empty room and rather than return to the communal dressing room, Georgia and I decide to go for a walk.  The doorman bids us adieu in that unmistakable all-exits-final way, so we tell him that we’re band members and will be returning.  He replies that it doesn’t matter who we are, once we leave, we’re not getting back in.  Positive that at least one of us is not understanding the other, I reiterate that we’re on the bill, and just want some fresh air.  Turns out that miscommunication is not our problem, and he indicates the long line of people whose attendance depends on someone leaving, and asks us what he’s supposed to tell them.  Looking for Allen Funt or (demonstrating great prognostication) Asthton Kutcher, I suggest he tell them we’re part of the show.  To no avail.  We are undaunted:  “Sell our equipment.  We’re going for a walk.”  And sure, I nearly got beaten to a pulp when we got back, but a bit of groveling later and we were back inside, miserable.

Things are going only slightly better 22 years later in Adelaide.  The backline that’s been provided for us is disintegrating before our eyes.  When the bass amp dies during the fifth song (to be fair, that’s three songs longer than the organ amp), we take an unscheduled intermission to reflect.    On our return, we play a couple of songs with me at the piano, with the bass in the monitors and p.a. only.  Not to get too technical, but it sounds like crap.    The set list gets thrown in the trash with the amps, and we play an hour of acoustic songs.

 

A month-long tour of the Pacific begins on February 18, 2007 in Tokyo, where we open for Clammbon.  One presumes their fans were slightly befuddled when we were invited to bumrush the headliner’s set for our first-ever performance of the lp version of “Today Is the Day.”   A more spontaneous bit of jamming occurred at the Biarritz disco, the unlikely venue for our greater Tampa visit of 1991.  The drummer for Smoldering Ashes, tired of waiting for us to finish before he started loading out, drunkenly and/or obliviously sits in with our quiet encore as he lugs his unpacked chimes out to his car.   What I find most curious about that day is that Georgia and I played six songs on WMNF in the afternoon.  Six songs!  No wonder we didn’t have time for a lunch detour.

 

“Say something once, why say it again?” suggested David Byrne.  Sage advice, no doubt, but nevertheless I reiterate: Our favorite city to play in Florida was Gainesville (I say “was” because our last show there was in 1996).   We were there for the first time on February 17, 1991, and had a fantastic show at the Hardback Cafe.   Having done one four-song encore, we were brought back to the “stage” (there was no stage), amid numerous requests for “Emulsified.”  Problem was we had played it the night before, and that in itself was rare enough; to perform it on consecutive nights made no sense.  We struck a deal: If someone would sing it with us, we’d play it.  In my memory,  about a dozen people joined in,  probably a sizable percentage of the audience.  Before the evening is over, we did a third and a fourth encore, not to mention taking the photo of Georgia reading the Julie Christie biography that appears in the art work of May I Sing with Me.

 

                                                     Gainesville High School yearbook 1968

In 1991, we worked up a version of “The Reason Why” by the Wombats.  We played it a few times in the first half of the year, including February 16 in Tallahassee, and then put it in mothballs, pulling it out twice in Cleveland, once when singer Victor Halm was in attendance, and once more when he joined us on stage.  And then out of the blue, one other time, in Brisbane 2010 . . . also on February 16.  I know!  What are the odds, right?   Same date, 2001, we’re still in South America.   Every venue is providing us with amps and drums, but that still leaves a mountain of guitars, etc. to check onto each of our many flights, always preceded by a lengthy negotiation by our promoter Marcos.   Today we land in Santiago, Chile, but some of our equipment is either still in São Paulo or maybe somewhere else entirely.  We borrow stuff from the other band on the bill, Enmascarados de Monterrey, while Marcos attempts to ensure that at the very least our missing gear arrives by the time we have to depart for Montevideo (it does).  It’s the best show of the tour, one of favorite shows ever–at some point someone runs on stage, grabs me, and won’t let go, ripping my shirt.  Hard to believe, but this had never happened before and hasn’t happened since.

 

 

February 15 is a day of unexpected encores: opening for the Feelies at the old 9:30, we somehow end up playing one; last year at the new 9:30, Bruce Bennett joins us for “Who Are the Mystery Girls,” an impromptu tribute to the just-departed Shadow Morton.  But our favorite memory of the day occurred in 1991,  on our last tour before James joins the band.  Wilbo Wright is playing bass, and Dave Doernberg is helping out.  We’ve played Atlanta the night before, next stop Einstein A Go-Go in Jacksonville Beach, roughly five hours away.   Our very well-thumbed Real Barbecue book informs us that a mere one-hour detour and we’re breakfasting at Hook’s in Milledgeville, GA.  It’s our first (and to date only) experience at a pull-your-own barbecue place.  We enter the front door, and each of us given a styrofoam container and directions out the back to the pit.  Taking some tongs from the wall, we pull as much meat as we want from the pig on the fire.  Back in the main room, as it were, it’s weighed and garnished with white bread and sauce.   Georgia is first to the cash register.  She orders a drink, and is asked, “Anything else?”  “What else do you have?” she replies.  “Nothing.”