Sunday, April 23, 2006
I'm sitting in a humid Motel 6 in Goodlettesville, TN trying to dust off the cobwebs that generally accompany only a few hours of sleep. You see, we played last night at the stalwart mecca of Nashville bluegrass, The Station Inn. It was our sophomore appearance at this amazing little road house where everybody who was, or is anybody in this music has played. And you know what folks? We did pretty dang good. There was no opening band, but people started to hoot and holler as soon as we came onstage. Even though we've been on a break for the last month, from the get-go, everything still seemed to be in fine working order. Ike started the crowd out with some old favorites, followed by some obscure relics from his country archive. Betse fiddled her fingers off for the audience, breaking bow hairs and dancing a hole in the carpet. And throughout the set, Ike snuck in a few of our original tunes while the crowd responded with swells of appreciation.
We were happy to see a few familiar hometown faces in the crowd which helped immensely. Standing in the back, like a Nicaraguan death squad, was Outlaw Jim, and his band, The Whiskey Benders. Jim Eaton, the leader of the bunch, is a tall drink of water, and with his black cowboy hat on, he cut a menacing silhouette in the dim light at the back of the bar. Although you wouldn't want to mess with him, the truth is that Jim is one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet, and it was great seeing him back there. Besides, I knew he would be on our side if any trouble broke out.
Jim is originally from Kansas City, but a few years back, he made the move to Music City to try his hand at breaking into the country music business. Check him out at http://www.myspace.com/outlawjimandthewhiskeybenders.
Sitting a few tables closer to us was Nate's old band mate, Matt Brahl and his lovely wife Amy. The Wilders played for Matt and Amy's wedding reception about 6 summers ago. Coincidentally, they were in Nashville for another wedding and saw us listed in the local paper. It was great to see them sitting out there grinning at us the way only old friends can.
All in all, it was a fine evening. We made a little money, sold a few cd's and, I think, we sent some new Wilders fans out into the Nashville night.
After the gig, we parked the van down down near lower Broadway where country music history still hangs in the air like smoke from a hundred thousand cigarettes. Outlaw Jim and The Whiskey Benders were playing at the Layla's Bluegrass Inn- a stinky, smoky, honky tonk played on multiple occasions by The Wilders ourselves in past trips to Nashville. It was after midnight, and the on-street crowd was thick with scenesters, hipsters, drunks and tourists. Rather than try to elbow our way in the front door, we decided to go around back and use the secret entrance where all the old country stars playing the Opry on Saturday night would sneak across the ally from the Ryman Auditorium for a quick drink between sets.
Jim and company were onstage tearing it up. Although the crowd had thinned a bit due to the lateness of the evening, Jim had the dancers in the front of the stage wound up like yo-yo's taking requests and grinning like the cat who swallowed the canary. Matt and Amy were sitting in the back too, and we had a great time catching up and hooting, hollering, and goading Jim into playing our favorites. Nearing the end of the night, Jim and the Benders cut into "Amos Moses" by Jerry Reed, and Ike and I fell out of our chairs.
I guess we were just wound up, because when 2am came and closed down the Bluegrass Inn, we all jumped in the van and headed up the highway for an after party at Jim's house in northern Nashville. Jim's got a music room filled with instruments and soon Nate had strapped on a Fender electric bass and was playing some serious funk grooves. Betse followed suit, grabbing up a telecaster and plugged in. Soon there was a full scale acoustic/electric late night garbage jam in the works. It was a rattle-trap affair, but it felt good to let loose. Before long, I looked at the clock and realized it was after 5am. Ike had already ditched the set to sleep in the van, so I went back inside to scrape everybody else up and out and back in the van to head back to the motel. As I was driving, the sky was lit ever so slightly by the soon-to-arrive sun. I figured if we hurried, we would get to sleep before it peaked its head over the eastern horizon.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Greetings from...
I bring you a few photos to satisfy your visual curiosities!
Foghorn Stringband
These guys look like they're working hard. And they are, even though they sit. I am now a fan of them sitting to play, though they do great when they stand up with us for show finales. What you don't see in a Foghorn pic is how much fun they are really having. Sometimes it's verbal fun at our expense... but we always get them back.
Ike and Nate taking a moment while we wait
We hit a major road block on the only road to Bakersfield.... at least, I think it was on the way to Bakersfield. It was somewhere in California. There was a wreck a few miles ahead on this 2 lane highway and we lucked out to get stopped right by a big dune, so we could see for miles around us. Note the jug of water... we stay hydrated on the road!
Keep your eyes on the road...
Note Phil's good posture while driving us through the Cascades. What you can't see is how much he looks like Hunter S. Thompson in those shades.
Why am I screaming?
I just can't believe how beautiful the Cascades are... my mind is overwrought with such glory.
See what I mean?
Ah, to live near these would be to live near heaven.
Bighorn Sheep, Jackson Hole, WY
These two were hanging out on the road in the preserve... a momma and kid, we believe. Both ewes, so the bighorns aren't all that big. By the time we drove past, they were headed back up the cliff. I asked them to please turn around one more time. The kid, ever curious, obliged.
You asked for it!
You wanted to see wrestlers... you sure about that? This was at our final show of the tour, in Denver, backstage (that is NOT the bathroom we used!)... the plan was to surprise Sweet Sunny South with a dance session on their last song, but the last song wasn't the right thing for dancing, so it was posponed until our finale with them. The guys left the stage and we played on, until they came out to wow the small but enthusiastic crowd with their unique moves.
So... I'll try to do this more often. I'm always saying that, aren't I? Well, we take what we can get sometimes! I'm actually all about that concept right now. It seems to be working pretty good for me.
Foghorn StringbandThese guys look like they're working hard. And they are, even though they sit. I am now a fan of them sitting to play, though they do great when they stand up with us for show finales. What you don't see in a Foghorn pic is how much fun they are really having. Sometimes it's verbal fun at our expense... but we always get them back.
Ike and Nate taking a moment while we waitWe hit a major road block on the only road to Bakersfield.... at least, I think it was on the way to Bakersfield. It was somewhere in California. There was a wreck a few miles ahead on this 2 lane highway and we lucked out to get stopped right by a big dune, so we could see for miles around us. Note the jug of water... we stay hydrated on the road!
Keep your eyes on the road...Note Phil's good posture while driving us through the Cascades. What you can't see is how much he looks like Hunter S. Thompson in those shades.
Why am I screaming?I just can't believe how beautiful the Cascades are... my mind is overwrought with such glory.
See what I mean?Ah, to live near these would be to live near heaven.
Bighorn Sheep, Jackson Hole, WYThese two were hanging out on the road in the preserve... a momma and kid, we believe. Both ewes, so the bighorns aren't all that big. By the time we drove past, they were headed back up the cliff. I asked them to please turn around one more time. The kid, ever curious, obliged.
You asked for it!You wanted to see wrestlers... you sure about that? This was at our final show of the tour, in Denver, backstage (that is NOT the bathroom we used!)... the plan was to surprise Sweet Sunny South with a dance session on their last song, but the last song wasn't the right thing for dancing, so it was posponed until our finale with them. The guys left the stage and we played on, until they came out to wow the small but enthusiastic crowd with their unique moves.
So... I'll try to do this more often. I'm always saying that, aren't I? Well, we take what we can get sometimes! I'm actually all about that concept right now. It seems to be working pretty good for me.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Reader's Digest Condensed Western Tour
Ok folks, I got home. read your comments and realized that I haven't posted squat this year. So, in a herculean effort which started at 4am this morning, I give you the whole tour summed up in one huge blog entry. Hopefully, you will be able to chew on this one for awhile...
p
Weds. 2/1- Left KC and drove to Amarillo, TX. First Motel 6 night of the tour.
Thurs. 2/2- Drove all day. Stopped in Flagstaff, AZ for Mexican food. Found $162 in cash in the parking lot. Bought band mates dinner. Slept in Kingman, AZ at Motel 6.
Fri. 2/3- Crossed the Colorado River and headed out across the spectacular Mojave Desert. Stopped in Barstow, CA at a roadside bar to pay tribute to our pal, Rex Hobart's great country tune, "Barstow Barstool". Arrived in Bakersfield, CA early enough to get a good night's sleep.
Sat. 2/4- Played at the first annual "Supergrass Festival" in Bakersfield. It was a big hotel festival with lots of bluegrass' biggest guns. Got to spend a little time catching up with our old friends, Cherryholmes. They are stars now. We are not.
Sun. 2/5- Completed our "Supergrass" obligations in time to grab beer and pizza for the "Super" Bowl. Later, set up Nate's portable digital multitrack machine and recorded "Give me What you Got"- an impromptu bass-heavy blues tune with improvised lyrics and searing lead vocal courtesy of B.
Mon. 2/6- Packed up and went to the Bakersfield Skatepark. Then the band splintered. Nate took off to LA with his old snowboarding pal, John, and the rest of us drove northwest, up the San Joaquin Valley, toward the coast. While in Bakersfield, we did not meet Buck Owens. While in Bakersfield, we did not make much of an effort to meet Buck Owens. When we left Bakersfield, we were very bummed to not have met Buck Owens. At dusk, Ike informs me that we are driving on "James Dean Memorial Highway" - the stretch of highway that James Dean died on at a over 100 mph. Arrived and checked into a Motel 6 in Monterey, CA. Ike has a sore throat and is getting sick.
Tues. 2/7- Woke up early and investigated skateparks online. Found a nice one in Marina, CA, just up the road. Got Betse to go with me. Had breakfast burritos and then came back to pick up Ike. Went downtown to check out Cannery Row. It was full of souvenir stands and only vaguely smelled of sardines. I would have liked to have seen it in Steinbeck's day. At dusk, had a few beers at Segovia's- a nice, clean, warmly-lit place where you can gamble with the bartender for your drinks. Double-or-nothing. I didn't see him lose once. Retired back at the 6 for another night.
Weds. 2/8- Drove north to Santa Cruz, CA. Around lunch, the three of us played a few tunes on a local radio show. Later, we reunited with Nate, and played a show with The Stairwell Sisters at Don Quixote's International Music Club in Felton, CA. I tried to get into it, but the Grammy's were on in the bar next door and I couldn't help watching it through the glass on the big screen while we played. Crashed for the night at our friends, Joe and Debbie's sampling Joe's delicious home-brewed beer.
Thurs. 2/9- Woke up, did some laundry, then drove back down to Monterey to play a co-bill with progressive acoustic jazz upstarts, Old School Freight Train, at a nice little listening room called Monterey Live. Apparently, few Monterey locals were excited enough about this amazingly weird combination to attend. Humbled, we drove back up to Santa Cruz to stay another comfortable night at Joe and Deb's.
Fri. 2/10- Packed our stuff and took an hour-long hike into the redwoods with Joe. Then, said goodbye to our friends, and drove north to Berkeley to play The San Francisco Old Time and Bluegrass Festival. This festival takes place all over the bay area, and our gig was at a seedy bar called The Starry Plough. Along with The Stairwell Sisters, we shared the bill with (the magnificent) Squirrily String Band. As the night progressed, more and more people kept arriving until it was impossible to walk without scrubbing shoulders with the crowd. We made the most of it and did our rock and roll thing to the boozy elation of everyone. Then we crashed at a cheap motel for too little sleep.
Sat. 2/11- Said our goodbyes to the bay area, and headed north again for a couple of days of R&R at my old friend, Lush's, house in Arcata, CA. Once we cleared Santa Cruz, the stress of the first week of tour melted away into the amazing landscape of craggy mountains and giant redwoods.
Sun. 2/12- Woke up early and grabbed my skateboard and pads for a try at the Arcata skatepark. Didn't break anything and, once properly fatigued, I went back to Lush's to prepare a gigantic breakfast for my still sleeping housemates. After eating, Lush took us a few miles up the road to Trinidad State Beach where we hiked for hours along the massive redwoods and crashing rocky surf. The experience was exhilarating. Later that evening, we pulled out the instruments and practiced some new tunes while Lush and her housemates eavesdropped on our process.
Mon. 2/13- Got up and, again, hit the Arcata skatepark. Then we packed our crap back into the van, said goodbye to Lush, and set out for another long drive north to Ashland, OR. There, we played a concert at another nice listening room called Mojo Rising. The crowd was very receptive and we were treated like royalty from the get go. It was a nice way to rejoin the tour.
Tues. 2/14- Got up early for the third day in a row and wandered around downtown Ashland until I found the best skatepark yet on the tour. The cool features of this park allowed me to try some stuff that I had never been able to do before. I had so much fun that I let myself go beyond my usual fatigue point- only stopping when I nearly broke my ankle. Then it was back to the hotel to grab everybody up and head north to Eugene, OR, where we were reunited with Foghorn Stringband . All of us were very happy to see our old tour pals again, but I had now caught Ike's cold, and unfortunately, didn't get to hang with them- choosing to go to bed immediately after our show. It was Nate's 30th birthday.
Weds. 2/15- Grabbed smoothies and breakfast burritos and headed to Portland. My cold was full blown by this time and I recall very little of this day.
Thurs. 2/16- Played at the Doug Fir Lounge with Foghorn in downtown Portland. This club was SO weird. It reminded me of David Lynch's old TV series "Twin Peaks" . All night, I kept expecting the log lady to come through the door.
Fri. 2/17- Drove north to Seattle where the band dropped me off at the SeaTac airport. My wife, Kim, had arrived via a layover in Denver, and we were very, very glad to see each other for the first time in weeks at baggage claim C. We grabbed a rental car, and headed to the Tractor Tavern in midtown Seattle for the sound check. We played yet another great show with Foghorn and, at the end, resurrected the two-bands-are-greater-than-the-sum-of-their-parts paradigm that had been perfected on our prior January tour.
Sat. 2/18- Kim and I took our rental car north, across the border, into Vancouver, B.C. There, we rejoined with the rest of The Wilders and Foghorn to play a final co-bill at St. John's Hall. Foghorn rocked it hard and gave us a run for our money. After the show, we hung out with the guys and tried to find a way to say goodbye. It was bittersweet.
Sun. 2/19- Thurs. 2/23- Kim and I took a vacation in Victoria, B.C.. Nate and Ike chose to hang out with friends in Victoria as well. Betse went back to Portland and spent the week adding fiddle tracks to Caleb Klauder's new solo project. It was a nice break.
Fri. 2/24- Sun. 2/26- Wintergrass Festival in Tacoma, WA. This was our sophomore effort at Wintergrass, and the buzz we stirred last year definitely was roaring when we hit our first show. People actually started applauding as we were adjusting the angle of our microphones before we were even introduced. That's Winfield type enthusiasm, and we used it to our advantage throughout the weekend. After a week off, I was so proud of my band-mates as I watched them kill each and every show. This festival is one of the biggest on our calendar and it was great to play it in top form. Oh yeah, AND we got to meet John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin. SWEET!
Mon. 2/27- Woke up, shrugged off the intensity, lack of sleep and general insanity of Wintergrass, and loaded the van to leave the Northwest for good. Drove all dang day and stopped for the night in Pendleton, OR at yet another Motel 6.
Tues. 2/28- Drove all day with the hope of landing a day early in Jackson, WY. A severe snowstorm had other plans, however, and we were only able to get to Idaho Falls, ID before aborting and 6-ing it for another night.
Weds. 3/1- Slept late and waited for the highway crews to plough the pass before heading over the Tetons to Jackson. We arrived safely in the early afternoon at the home of our friends, Pete and Ann Sibley. They had arranged for a great concert at the Off Square Theater in downtown Jackson. Nate and Ike went to a motel to rest, and I took a nap at Pete and Ann's while Betse went with the Sibleys for a walk in the elk preserve just outside town. Pete and Ann are a great musical duet and they opened the show to the applause of the Jackson locals who absolutely love their home town heroes. The place was packed, and we played another quality show to the very attentive audience. For an encore, Pete and Ann joined us onstage along with Thomas Sneed, from the Reeltime Travelers, and Ben Winship from Kane's River. It was an ubber jam that made everybody woozy, onstage and off .
Thurs. 3/2- Had breakfast with Pete and Ann, and then went up to the elk preserve before heading out of Jackson. There were thousands of elk in the distance and we spotted a few bighorn sheep climbing around on the craggy hills. Just as we were pulling out, Ike spotted a bald eagle perched on a high cliff and slammed on the brakes. "i've never seen a bald eagle before." he exclaimed as he jumped out of the driver's seat. Luckily, Nate had brought a pair of binoculars and we all shared a patriotic moment watching the regal bird survey the valley from above. The elk preserve put a dent in our time management, however, and we quickly realized that we were badly behind schedule. Due to the combination of snow, ice and closed mountain passes, we were forced to drive a circuitous route to get to our next stop, Paonia, Colorado, by driving from Jackson, Wyoming, southwest to Salt Lake City, Utah. If you pull out your map, you'll see that this is like driving to from Kansas City, to Wichita, Kansas via Lincoln, Nebraska. Ike drove us from Jackson to Salt Lake and then Betse took us over the Wasatch range and down into Grand Junction, CO. On the way, we stopped to pee at a Taco Bell in Price, Utah. It was nearly closing time and, for some god-awful reason, Ike and I decided to get something to eat. The place was nearly empty except for a few scrubby teens in the corner. The guy at the counter asked if we were a rock and roll band and Ike said, "yes, we rock". He then looked over at the kids in the corner and asked, "hey, you guys are musicians too right?". They muttered something about playing around a little and Ike cut them off. "Yeah, I knew it, you're wearing scrubby clothes, you're broke and your hanging out at Taco Bell, you're definitely musicians..." The clerk then told us we could have anything on the menu "on the house". We chuckled about that one in the van for the next half hour. Finally, around midnight, we landed at the Grand Junction Motel 6.
Fri. 3/3- Woke up and drove the final two hours to Paonia, CO, and arrived in plenty of time to make a scheduled radio appearance on the local station. Rob Miller, from Sweet Sunny South, had booked us a show at the Paradise Theater downtown, and the whole town came out to see us. Later, the Sweet Sunny Southerners threw a big party for us. As a result, none of us got enough sleep. Whatever, it was a blast.
Sat. 3/4- Hit the road around noon caravanning with SSS on our way to Lyons, CO for a sold-out show at Rogers Hall. Nate was very anxious to see Melissa and his baby girl, Gretel who weren't willing to wait another day to see him and decided to drive out to Colorado. Gretel looked cute as a button and both girls were definitely glad to see their guy. Soon the show was on. Sweet Sunny South played a great opening set, followed by a weary but heartfelt effort from us. During the encore, SSS joined us onstage along with Caleb Roberts from Open Road, who took a blistering solo on Muleskinner Blues. It was a great night of music followed by an easy, one hour drive to Denver for another night at Motel 6.
Sun. 3/5- Got up and grabbed a late breakfast before heading over to The Oriental Theater, an old movie house located in an older part of Denver. We had scheduled a double header with Sweet Sunny South- the first show advertised as a non-smoking family matinee. Ike sat in on washboard with SSS, who have an alter-ego children's act called Duck Duck Gray Duck. Then we did our thing, choosing to fill up our set with non-smoking family tunes. Soon enough though, it was time for the late show, and SSS played their best set yet. We love this band's eclectic approach to fiddle tunes and original songs. At one point Bill, the mandolin/banjoist, started telling the story of how he had first met us, and how much of an influence we had been, etc. In the loudest voice I could muster, I channelled Tickmeister and yelled, "shut up and play another tune!" Bill thought he was being heckled, and it threw him for a second. I had to laugh. When we got up there, the sparse crowd of Oscar refugees made a lion of a noise throughout our set. Even though it wasn't the best attended show, the people who were there really enjoyed themselves and made sure that we knew it. It was a fine way to end a very, very long tour.
Mon. 3/6- Had breakfast with Sweet Sunny South and bid them a tearful farewell. They headed west and we headed east and 10 hours later, I pulled up outside my house and breathed a sigh of relief. In 7 days, it starts up all over again...
p
Weds. 2/1- Left KC and drove to Amarillo, TX. First Motel 6 night of the tour.
Thurs. 2/2- Drove all day. Stopped in Flagstaff, AZ for Mexican food. Found $162 in cash in the parking lot. Bought band mates dinner. Slept in Kingman, AZ at Motel 6.
Fri. 2/3- Crossed the Colorado River and headed out across the spectacular Mojave Desert. Stopped in Barstow, CA at a roadside bar to pay tribute to our pal, Rex Hobart's great country tune, "Barstow Barstool". Arrived in Bakersfield, CA early enough to get a good night's sleep.
Sat. 2/4- Played at the first annual "Supergrass Festival" in Bakersfield. It was a big hotel festival with lots of bluegrass' biggest guns. Got to spend a little time catching up with our old friends, Cherryholmes. They are stars now. We are not.
Sun. 2/5- Completed our "Supergrass" obligations in time to grab beer and pizza for the "Super" Bowl. Later, set up Nate's portable digital multitrack machine and recorded "Give me What you Got"- an impromptu bass-heavy blues tune with improvised lyrics and searing lead vocal courtesy of B.
Mon. 2/6- Packed up and went to the Bakersfield Skatepark. Then the band splintered. Nate took off to LA with his old snowboarding pal, John, and the rest of us drove northwest, up the San Joaquin Valley, toward the coast. While in Bakersfield, we did not meet Buck Owens. While in Bakersfield, we did not make much of an effort to meet Buck Owens. When we left Bakersfield, we were very bummed to not have met Buck Owens. At dusk, Ike informs me that we are driving on "James Dean Memorial Highway" - the stretch of highway that James Dean died on at a over 100 mph. Arrived and checked into a Motel 6 in Monterey, CA. Ike has a sore throat and is getting sick.
Tues. 2/7- Woke up early and investigated skateparks online. Found a nice one in Marina, CA, just up the road. Got Betse to go with me. Had breakfast burritos and then came back to pick up Ike. Went downtown to check out Cannery Row. It was full of souvenir stands and only vaguely smelled of sardines. I would have liked to have seen it in Steinbeck's day. At dusk, had a few beers at Segovia's- a nice, clean, warmly-lit place where you can gamble with the bartender for your drinks. Double-or-nothing. I didn't see him lose once. Retired back at the 6 for another night.
Weds. 2/8- Drove north to Santa Cruz, CA. Around lunch, the three of us played a few tunes on a local radio show. Later, we reunited with Nate, and played a show with The Stairwell Sisters at Don Quixote's International Music Club in Felton, CA. I tried to get into it, but the Grammy's were on in the bar next door and I couldn't help watching it through the glass on the big screen while we played. Crashed for the night at our friends, Joe and Debbie's sampling Joe's delicious home-brewed beer.
Thurs. 2/9- Woke up, did some laundry, then drove back down to Monterey to play a co-bill with progressive acoustic jazz upstarts, Old School Freight Train, at a nice little listening room called Monterey Live. Apparently, few Monterey locals were excited enough about this amazingly weird combination to attend. Humbled, we drove back up to Santa Cruz to stay another comfortable night at Joe and Deb's.
Fri. 2/10- Packed our stuff and took an hour-long hike into the redwoods with Joe. Then, said goodbye to our friends, and drove north to Berkeley to play The San Francisco Old Time and Bluegrass Festival. This festival takes place all over the bay area, and our gig was at a seedy bar called The Starry Plough. Along with The Stairwell Sisters, we shared the bill with (the magnificent) Squirrily String Band. As the night progressed, more and more people kept arriving until it was impossible to walk without scrubbing shoulders with the crowd. We made the most of it and did our rock and roll thing to the boozy elation of everyone. Then we crashed at a cheap motel for too little sleep.
Sat. 2/11- Said our goodbyes to the bay area, and headed north again for a couple of days of R&R at my old friend, Lush's, house in Arcata, CA. Once we cleared Santa Cruz, the stress of the first week of tour melted away into the amazing landscape of craggy mountains and giant redwoods.
Sun. 2/12- Woke up early and grabbed my skateboard and pads for a try at the Arcata skatepark. Didn't break anything and, once properly fatigued, I went back to Lush's to prepare a gigantic breakfast for my still sleeping housemates. After eating, Lush took us a few miles up the road to Trinidad State Beach where we hiked for hours along the massive redwoods and crashing rocky surf. The experience was exhilarating. Later that evening, we pulled out the instruments and practiced some new tunes while Lush and her housemates eavesdropped on our process.
Mon. 2/13- Got up and, again, hit the Arcata skatepark. Then we packed our crap back into the van, said goodbye to Lush, and set out for another long drive north to Ashland, OR. There, we played a concert at another nice listening room called Mojo Rising. The crowd was very receptive and we were treated like royalty from the get go. It was a nice way to rejoin the tour.
Tues. 2/14- Got up early for the third day in a row and wandered around downtown Ashland until I found the best skatepark yet on the tour. The cool features of this park allowed me to try some stuff that I had never been able to do before. I had so much fun that I let myself go beyond my usual fatigue point- only stopping when I nearly broke my ankle. Then it was back to the hotel to grab everybody up and head north to Eugene, OR, where we were reunited with Foghorn Stringband . All of us were very happy to see our old tour pals again, but I had now caught Ike's cold, and unfortunately, didn't get to hang with them- choosing to go to bed immediately after our show. It was Nate's 30th birthday.
Weds. 2/15- Grabbed smoothies and breakfast burritos and headed to Portland. My cold was full blown by this time and I recall very little of this day.
Thurs. 2/16- Played at the Doug Fir Lounge with Foghorn in downtown Portland. This club was SO weird. It reminded me of David Lynch's old TV series "Twin Peaks" . All night, I kept expecting the log lady to come through the door.
Fri. 2/17- Drove north to Seattle where the band dropped me off at the SeaTac airport. My wife, Kim, had arrived via a layover in Denver, and we were very, very glad to see each other for the first time in weeks at baggage claim C. We grabbed a rental car, and headed to the Tractor Tavern in midtown Seattle for the sound check. We played yet another great show with Foghorn and, at the end, resurrected the two-bands-are-greater-than-the-sum-of-their-parts paradigm that had been perfected on our prior January tour.
Sat. 2/18- Kim and I took our rental car north, across the border, into Vancouver, B.C. There, we rejoined with the rest of The Wilders and Foghorn to play a final co-bill at St. John's Hall. Foghorn rocked it hard and gave us a run for our money. After the show, we hung out with the guys and tried to find a way to say goodbye. It was bittersweet.
Sun. 2/19- Thurs. 2/23- Kim and I took a vacation in Victoria, B.C.. Nate and Ike chose to hang out with friends in Victoria as well. Betse went back to Portland and spent the week adding fiddle tracks to Caleb Klauder's new solo project. It was a nice break.
Fri. 2/24- Sun. 2/26- Wintergrass Festival in Tacoma, WA. This was our sophomore effort at Wintergrass, and the buzz we stirred last year definitely was roaring when we hit our first show. People actually started applauding as we were adjusting the angle of our microphones before we were even introduced. That's Winfield type enthusiasm, and we used it to our advantage throughout the weekend. After a week off, I was so proud of my band-mates as I watched them kill each and every show. This festival is one of the biggest on our calendar and it was great to play it in top form. Oh yeah, AND we got to meet John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin. SWEET!
Mon. 2/27- Woke up, shrugged off the intensity, lack of sleep and general insanity of Wintergrass, and loaded the van to leave the Northwest for good. Drove all dang day and stopped for the night in Pendleton, OR at yet another Motel 6.
Tues. 2/28- Drove all day with the hope of landing a day early in Jackson, WY. A severe snowstorm had other plans, however, and we were only able to get to Idaho Falls, ID before aborting and 6-ing it for another night.
Weds. 3/1- Slept late and waited for the highway crews to plough the pass before heading over the Tetons to Jackson. We arrived safely in the early afternoon at the home of our friends, Pete and Ann Sibley. They had arranged for a great concert at the Off Square Theater in downtown Jackson. Nate and Ike went to a motel to rest, and I took a nap at Pete and Ann's while Betse went with the Sibleys for a walk in the elk preserve just outside town. Pete and Ann are a great musical duet and they opened the show to the applause of the Jackson locals who absolutely love their home town heroes. The place was packed, and we played another quality show to the very attentive audience. For an encore, Pete and Ann joined us onstage along with Thomas Sneed, from the Reeltime Travelers, and Ben Winship from Kane's River. It was an ubber jam that made everybody woozy, onstage and off .
Thurs. 3/2- Had breakfast with Pete and Ann, and then went up to the elk preserve before heading out of Jackson. There were thousands of elk in the distance and we spotted a few bighorn sheep climbing around on the craggy hills. Just as we were pulling out, Ike spotted a bald eagle perched on a high cliff and slammed on the brakes. "i've never seen a bald eagle before." he exclaimed as he jumped out of the driver's seat. Luckily, Nate had brought a pair of binoculars and we all shared a patriotic moment watching the regal bird survey the valley from above. The elk preserve put a dent in our time management, however, and we quickly realized that we were badly behind schedule. Due to the combination of snow, ice and closed mountain passes, we were forced to drive a circuitous route to get to our next stop, Paonia, Colorado, by driving from Jackson, Wyoming, southwest to Salt Lake City, Utah. If you pull out your map, you'll see that this is like driving to from Kansas City, to Wichita, Kansas via Lincoln, Nebraska. Ike drove us from Jackson to Salt Lake and then Betse took us over the Wasatch range and down into Grand Junction, CO. On the way, we stopped to pee at a Taco Bell in Price, Utah. It was nearly closing time and, for some god-awful reason, Ike and I decided to get something to eat. The place was nearly empty except for a few scrubby teens in the corner. The guy at the counter asked if we were a rock and roll band and Ike said, "yes, we rock". He then looked over at the kids in the corner and asked, "hey, you guys are musicians too right?". They muttered something about playing around a little and Ike cut them off. "Yeah, I knew it, you're wearing scrubby clothes, you're broke and your hanging out at Taco Bell, you're definitely musicians..." The clerk then told us we could have anything on the menu "on the house". We chuckled about that one in the van for the next half hour. Finally, around midnight, we landed at the Grand Junction Motel 6.
Fri. 3/3- Woke up and drove the final two hours to Paonia, CO, and arrived in plenty of time to make a scheduled radio appearance on the local station. Rob Miller, from Sweet Sunny South, had booked us a show at the Paradise Theater downtown, and the whole town came out to see us. Later, the Sweet Sunny Southerners threw a big party for us. As a result, none of us got enough sleep. Whatever, it was a blast.
Sat. 3/4- Hit the road around noon caravanning with SSS on our way to Lyons, CO for a sold-out show at Rogers Hall. Nate was very anxious to see Melissa and his baby girl, Gretel who weren't willing to wait another day to see him and decided to drive out to Colorado. Gretel looked cute as a button and both girls were definitely glad to see their guy. Soon the show was on. Sweet Sunny South played a great opening set, followed by a weary but heartfelt effort from us. During the encore, SSS joined us onstage along with Caleb Roberts from Open Road, who took a blistering solo on Muleskinner Blues. It was a great night of music followed by an easy, one hour drive to Denver for another night at Motel 6.
Sun. 3/5- Got up and grabbed a late breakfast before heading over to The Oriental Theater, an old movie house located in an older part of Denver. We had scheduled a double header with Sweet Sunny South- the first show advertised as a non-smoking family matinee. Ike sat in on washboard with SSS, who have an alter-ego children's act called Duck Duck Gray Duck. Then we did our thing, choosing to fill up our set with non-smoking family tunes. Soon enough though, it was time for the late show, and SSS played their best set yet. We love this band's eclectic approach to fiddle tunes and original songs. At one point Bill, the mandolin/banjoist, started telling the story of how he had first met us, and how much of an influence we had been, etc. In the loudest voice I could muster, I channelled Tickmeister and yelled, "shut up and play another tune!" Bill thought he was being heckled, and it threw him for a second. I had to laugh. When we got up there, the sparse crowd of Oscar refugees made a lion of a noise throughout our set. Even though it wasn't the best attended show, the people who were there really enjoyed themselves and made sure that we knew it. It was a fine way to end a very, very long tour.
Mon. 3/6- Had breakfast with Sweet Sunny South and bid them a tearful farewell. They headed west and we headed east and 10 hours later, I pulled up outside my house and breathed a sigh of relief. In 7 days, it starts up all over again...
Friday, February 17, 2006
Sometimes We Wrestle...
January 23rd, 2006 around 2:36am in Ann Arbor, Michigan
"Check it out you guys..." Looking at his watch, Brian Bagdonas, bassist of Portland's Foghorn Stringband, waited until our conversations stopped before continuing. "I'll bet you ten bucks that in 10 minutes, Chowdy is going to come in here and mess with one of us." He made this pronouncement with little emotion- as if he were telling us that the sky was blue. Everyone looked around at each other and smiled. We had gotten to know each of the Foghorners pretty well after almost a week of daily gigs and nighttime socializing. So, in this case, I knew that "Chowdy" (otherwise known as Caleb Klauder, Foghorn's prankster mandolinist), wasn't going to be coming in for just anyone, I knew he was coming to mess with me. You see folks, sometimes when the boredom of the road sets it's teeth deeply into our pelts, we have no choice but to do something pointless and stupid, and in our case, sometimes we wrestle.
I remember the first time it happened. The Wilders were down in El Paso, Texas. We had just spent about 9 hours in Juarez, Mexico and were wound up from the cross cultural experience. I was sitting in The Chief, (y'all remember our 5th member right? now quarantined indefinitely in long term storage in an Oak Grove, Missouri KOA). Anyway, I was just sitting in the RV minding my own business, when, out of nowhere, Estebel pounced on me. Estebel (Betse spelled backwards...with an le) is the name Betse chose as her mexican wrestling persona. When she spots weakness in a potential opponent, she gets a funny smirk on her face, then launches an attack. This was my first meeting with Estebel, and I was both blind-sided and flabbergasted. She caught me totally by surprise, and due to the limited mobility of the RV, I found myself pinned on the transmission hump. Rather than fight a losing battle, I willingly surrendered to the obvious victor-vowing to never, ever, let my guard down again.
But, of course, I did let it down again, and this time it was in Lafayette, Louisiana. We had just spent a week recording "Throw Down" at Dirk Powell's studio, and were in Lafayette to do a bar gig to help pay our personal expenses for the recording. It was Betse's birthday, January 28th, and I was again sitting in the Chief, which was parked outside the bar. I guess it was the combination of her birthday, and the need to release the pent-up recording stress, that prompted Estebel to rise up against me once more. Again, she chose to launch her attack while I innocently sat there on the couch. I maneuvered as best as I could, but the dark princess of mexican wrestling persevered by using the limited space of the RV to her full advantage. Once again, I was pinned to the transmission hump and humiliated. A few minutes later, Estebel launched another attack against Ike- still wearing his polyester western-style leisure suit from the show. Now Ike is a competitive guy, and all I've got to say about the match is this: Even though his polyester pants got ripped out, Ike did NOT get pinned. And even though he had a huge scratch on his forehead and rug burns on his knees, he NEVER got pinned. And although I'm ashamed to admit it, I broke wrestling protocol by jumping into the match to try to help her roll him over, STILL he was resistant to our double team attack. He was crushed, shoved, scooted, yanked, and pried upon, with reckless disregard for safety or compassion, and he WOULD NOT be pinned. It was a triumph of personal will, and he's still proud of it.
Yes, sometimes we wrestle. It's happened in hotel rooms, parking lots and living rooms across America. And, so far, no one has been permanently injured. Although we laugh about it after the fact, during the match, regardless of the combatants, it is a deadly serious game. I tell you these stories so that you will understand why I had a sense of dread when Brian made his prediction. You see, earlier in the evening Caleb had all but challenged me to a match. A few evenings before, he had wrestled all three other Wilders in a Super 8 Motel in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. That night, he wrestled Nate in the lobby, then Ike in the second floor hallway, and finally, Estebel herself, as the match loudly moved into Ike and Nate's room . But "Rowdy Chowdy" had yet to grapple with the oldest Wilder. I looked around the living room and imagined what might happen if he attacked. Caleb is slightly taller than me and has a natural wrestler's body. He is also about 7 years younger and more wiry, with short, powerful arm and leg muscles. I was going to need some room if I was to have any advantage. I moved a side table out of the way and removed several breakable objects that might somehow find their way into the impending match. The others watched me with curiosity as I continued to move objects around, opening up the ring for maximum maneuverability. Then we heard Caleb coming.
About 7 minutes had passed since Brian's original pronouncement, and everyone was still standing there waiting. Caleb came back into the living room with a smile on his face and said, "hey, what's going on?". "Nothing," we all said simultaneously. For a moment, I thought that Brian's prediction might have been wrong. Then Caleb was standing next to me and he said, "Hey Phil, how are YOU doing?", as he put his right arm around my shoulders. Before I could answer, however, I realized he was making his move. His left arm quickly crossed my chest as he locked his hands together and started driving me toward the carpet. I had anticipated this side assault, however, and rather than pushing back against him, I quickly turned my hips out and grabbed onto his right arm, essentially pulling him harder in the direction he was already pushing. He fell hard onto his back and I landed very neatly on top of his chest. He was clearly surprised, and before he could even respond, I had already thrown my left arm backwards around his head into a half nelson and scooped up his left leg locking my hands together. With him pinned to the carpet beneath me, I balled my left hand into a fist and drove it deep into his sternum just for good measure. He fought for only a moment before saying, "ok, ok. you got me."
Now, would I have been so successful had Brian not pointed out the possibility of a sneak attack? I think not. Caleb is a strong guy and I personally witnessed the ferocity of his assault on Ike earlier in the week (Ike did NOT get pinned, but did have a huge scratch on his head). However, by winning the match so convincingly, I think there might be two things that could happen. One unlikely result would be that I have eternally earned Caleb's respect. Due to this, he will steer clear of further attacks on me in the future. The other, more likely possibility, will be that he will seek a rematch. We will be playing four more shows on Foghorn's Northwest home turf in the next two weeks.
I am currently cultivating eyes in the back of my head...
"Check it out you guys..." Looking at his watch, Brian Bagdonas, bassist of Portland's Foghorn Stringband, waited until our conversations stopped before continuing. "I'll bet you ten bucks that in 10 minutes, Chowdy is going to come in here and mess with one of us." He made this pronouncement with little emotion- as if he were telling us that the sky was blue. Everyone looked around at each other and smiled. We had gotten to know each of the Foghorners pretty well after almost a week of daily gigs and nighttime socializing. So, in this case, I knew that "Chowdy" (otherwise known as Caleb Klauder, Foghorn's prankster mandolinist), wasn't going to be coming in for just anyone, I knew he was coming to mess with me. You see folks, sometimes when the boredom of the road sets it's teeth deeply into our pelts, we have no choice but to do something pointless and stupid, and in our case, sometimes we wrestle.
I remember the first time it happened. The Wilders were down in El Paso, Texas. We had just spent about 9 hours in Juarez, Mexico and were wound up from the cross cultural experience. I was sitting in The Chief, (y'all remember our 5th member right? now quarantined indefinitely in long term storage in an Oak Grove, Missouri KOA). Anyway, I was just sitting in the RV minding my own business, when, out of nowhere, Estebel pounced on me. Estebel (Betse spelled backwards...with an le) is the name Betse chose as her mexican wrestling persona. When she spots weakness in a potential opponent, she gets a funny smirk on her face, then launches an attack. This was my first meeting with Estebel, and I was both blind-sided and flabbergasted. She caught me totally by surprise, and due to the limited mobility of the RV, I found myself pinned on the transmission hump. Rather than fight a losing battle, I willingly surrendered to the obvious victor-vowing to never, ever, let my guard down again.
But, of course, I did let it down again, and this time it was in Lafayette, Louisiana. We had just spent a week recording "Throw Down" at Dirk Powell's studio, and were in Lafayette to do a bar gig to help pay our personal expenses for the recording. It was Betse's birthday, January 28th, and I was again sitting in the Chief, which was parked outside the bar. I guess it was the combination of her birthday, and the need to release the pent-up recording stress, that prompted Estebel to rise up against me once more. Again, she chose to launch her attack while I innocently sat there on the couch. I maneuvered as best as I could, but the dark princess of mexican wrestling persevered by using the limited space of the RV to her full advantage. Once again, I was pinned to the transmission hump and humiliated. A few minutes later, Estebel launched another attack against Ike- still wearing his polyester western-style leisure suit from the show. Now Ike is a competitive guy, and all I've got to say about the match is this: Even though his polyester pants got ripped out, Ike did NOT get pinned. And even though he had a huge scratch on his forehead and rug burns on his knees, he NEVER got pinned. And although I'm ashamed to admit it, I broke wrestling protocol by jumping into the match to try to help her roll him over, STILL he was resistant to our double team attack. He was crushed, shoved, scooted, yanked, and pried upon, with reckless disregard for safety or compassion, and he WOULD NOT be pinned. It was a triumph of personal will, and he's still proud of it.
Yes, sometimes we wrestle. It's happened in hotel rooms, parking lots and living rooms across America. And, so far, no one has been permanently injured. Although we laugh about it after the fact, during the match, regardless of the combatants, it is a deadly serious game. I tell you these stories so that you will understand why I had a sense of dread when Brian made his prediction. You see, earlier in the evening Caleb had all but challenged me to a match. A few evenings before, he had wrestled all three other Wilders in a Super 8 Motel in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. That night, he wrestled Nate in the lobby, then Ike in the second floor hallway, and finally, Estebel herself, as the match loudly moved into Ike and Nate's room . But "Rowdy Chowdy" had yet to grapple with the oldest Wilder. I looked around the living room and imagined what might happen if he attacked. Caleb is slightly taller than me and has a natural wrestler's body. He is also about 7 years younger and more wiry, with short, powerful arm and leg muscles. I was going to need some room if I was to have any advantage. I moved a side table out of the way and removed several breakable objects that might somehow find their way into the impending match. The others watched me with curiosity as I continued to move objects around, opening up the ring for maximum maneuverability. Then we heard Caleb coming.
About 7 minutes had passed since Brian's original pronouncement, and everyone was still standing there waiting. Caleb came back into the living room with a smile on his face and said, "hey, what's going on?". "Nothing," we all said simultaneously. For a moment, I thought that Brian's prediction might have been wrong. Then Caleb was standing next to me and he said, "Hey Phil, how are YOU doing?", as he put his right arm around my shoulders. Before I could answer, however, I realized he was making his move. His left arm quickly crossed my chest as he locked his hands together and started driving me toward the carpet. I had anticipated this side assault, however, and rather than pushing back against him, I quickly turned my hips out and grabbed onto his right arm, essentially pulling him harder in the direction he was already pushing. He fell hard onto his back and I landed very neatly on top of his chest. He was clearly surprised, and before he could even respond, I had already thrown my left arm backwards around his head into a half nelson and scooped up his left leg locking my hands together. With him pinned to the carpet beneath me, I balled my left hand into a fist and drove it deep into his sternum just for good measure. He fought for only a moment before saying, "ok, ok. you got me."
Now, would I have been so successful had Brian not pointed out the possibility of a sneak attack? I think not. Caleb is a strong guy and I personally witnessed the ferocity of his assault on Ike earlier in the week (Ike did NOT get pinned, but did have a huge scratch on his head). However, by winning the match so convincingly, I think there might be two things that could happen. One unlikely result would be that I have eternally earned Caleb's respect. Due to this, he will steer clear of further attacks on me in the future. The other, more likely possibility, will be that he will seek a rematch. We will be playing four more shows on Foghorn's Northwest home turf in the next two weeks.
I am currently cultivating eyes in the back of my head...
Monday, February 06, 2006
Proof that a 40-year-old can still rock it
Here's Phil skateboarding in Bakersfield, CA... this morning, Feb. 6! Thanks Mom & Dad for the digital camera! Stay tuned, I'll be doing an actual post in a few minutes!
Hey, here's Nate too... it was really fun watching the guys zoom around. Nate's friend John was with us too (he came up from LA for Supergrass), and he did some skating too. No, I didn't! And no, Ike didn't! Ike wanted to shoot some hoops with his new b-ball but there were no hoops at this park, just about 20 horseshoe plots and baseball & football field.
We so rarely get a chance to hang out a bit before we have to leave a town. It was a real bonus to get an extra night here in B'field, at a very nice hotel. We watched the Superbowl (yay Steelers!), enjoyed the hot tub, and got to sleep in with a late checkout today, which gave us just enough time to make that foray into the park.
So now we have a couple of days off. We think we'll take it easy and drive a bit towards Santa Cruz, and maybe enjoy a visit to the beach, or else it looks like Pinnacles National Monument might be a good route to take. I have no idea what it is, but it sounds like mountains.
I plan to tell y'all some stories about the Foghorn tour... it was more than fun and we can't wait to see them again next week. Or maybe this weekend -- they're playing SF on Thursday and Saturday, and we play Berkeley Friday, so we may get a little reunion. Gol-dangit, those dudes are sure fine musicians, fine people, good spirited high spirited comrades! We love 'em. Miss them right now, sniff.
Well... guess that's about all I got for you right this minute. I'll work on a synopsis of the Foghorn tour and will submit it for your collective edification and enjoyment, soon's I can get it written. Stay tuned for more digital photos! Thanks again, M&D!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Snapshots
Vignettes from the Van-Friday, Jan. 20th
11:26am (somewhere on the way to Goshen, Indiana)...
Overcast skies absorb the horizon as we pass the sleeping,stubbled cornfields of east central Iowa. The stereo is blasting- Little Richard covering Jerry Lee's "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" and giving the killer a run for his money. Ike is rocking in the driver's seat while Betse rides shotgun with the knitting needles. Nate naps in the back. He's quiet for awhile then I hear him open a window, then the smell hits me like a baseball bat in the nose. His gaseous contractions are now coming about every half hour. I'm not sure what he's giving birth to, but by the smell of it, I don't want to be there when it happens.
3:45pm (gas stop)...
Standing outside the driver's window while pumping gas in the rain. I have contorted my face by folding down my lower lip and sticking my tongue out, up and over my upper lip. Behind the glass, Ike's head is turned away and I watch two of him through my severely crossed eyes, waiting for him to notice me. He turns and the look of surprise is less than I expected. He rolls down the window and says, "dude, Goshen is in the EASTERN time zone." My eyes uncross and my lips return to their original configuration. I realize that we are now SO late. We just lost an hour and we weren't even trying.
4:15pm (toll road outside Chicago)...
Ike dodges and weaves from lane to lane like he's trying to choose the fastest checkout line at the supermarket as Betse reads the map and tries to calculate milages per hour in relation to stopped Chicagoland traffic. Nate and I sit in the back with our fists raised watching an AC/DC video on my laptop. I thrill as Angus Young, the lead guitarist, rocks it in his schoolboy's outfit. He shuffles his feet to the beat, head bobbing, never stopping his lunatic's dance for a moment. I realize that I learned just about everything I know about performing from this guy.
6:39pm EASTERN STANDARD TIME (still at least 20 minutes from the gig)...
Ike has collapsed into the back to rest and Nate is following Betse's directions threading his way down the rained-glazed black Indiana county roads. The show starts at 7pm.
Ahh, back on the road.
11:26am (somewhere on the way to Goshen, Indiana)...
Overcast skies absorb the horizon as we pass the sleeping,stubbled cornfields of east central Iowa. The stereo is blasting- Little Richard covering Jerry Lee's "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" and giving the killer a run for his money. Ike is rocking in the driver's seat while Betse rides shotgun with the knitting needles. Nate naps in the back. He's quiet for awhile then I hear him open a window, then the smell hits me like a baseball bat in the nose. His gaseous contractions are now coming about every half hour. I'm not sure what he's giving birth to, but by the smell of it, I don't want to be there when it happens.
3:45pm (gas stop)...
Standing outside the driver's window while pumping gas in the rain. I have contorted my face by folding down my lower lip and sticking my tongue out, up and over my upper lip. Behind the glass, Ike's head is turned away and I watch two of him through my severely crossed eyes, waiting for him to notice me. He turns and the look of surprise is less than I expected. He rolls down the window and says, "dude, Goshen is in the EASTERN time zone." My eyes uncross and my lips return to their original configuration. I realize that we are now SO late. We just lost an hour and we weren't even trying.
4:15pm (toll road outside Chicago)...
Ike dodges and weaves from lane to lane like he's trying to choose the fastest checkout line at the supermarket as Betse reads the map and tries to calculate milages per hour in relation to stopped Chicagoland traffic. Nate and I sit in the back with our fists raised watching an AC/DC video on my laptop. I thrill as Angus Young, the lead guitarist, rocks it in his schoolboy's outfit. He shuffles his feet to the beat, head bobbing, never stopping his lunatic's dance for a moment. I realize that I learned just about everything I know about performing from this guy.
6:39pm EASTERN STANDARD TIME (still at least 20 minutes from the gig)...
Ike has collapsed into the back to rest and Nate is following Betse's directions threading his way down the rained-glazed black Indiana county roads. The show starts at 7pm.
Ahh, back on the road.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Merry Christmas AND Happy Holidays!
This will probably be my last post before the end of the year since there is absolutely nothing going on right now, and I have much more important things to do than try to think of something interesting to write- like waiting for the dang snow to melt so I can get back to the Sweeeeeeeeet skatepark they just built in downtown KC. So, in the meantime, all of you who are able to recieve Kansas City radio, please tune in on Christmas Eve to KCUR 89.3FM at 2pm. Yesterday, we went down to our beloved local NPR affiliate and pre-recorded an hour of Christmas goodness AND an interview for our pal, Robert Moore's show, Sonic Spectrum. Our special guests included our good friend Gary Miller (aka Bubba) AND Darth Vader, so it is NOT TO BE MISSED. If you are out of the KC radio area, KCUR 89.3FM can be heard online by pasting the following into your browser:
http://www.kcur.org/listen.html
If you are not able to listen on Christmas Eve, no problem, because Robert's show is now archived. Just go to the following:
http://www.kcur.org/SSArchives.html
I'm not sure how long it will take for the show to be archived, but I'd imagine that you might get to hear it before your fruitcake hardens up. Oh wait, fruitcake by definition has already hardened hasn't it? Well, you get the idea...
Best wishes from our Wilder families to yours...
http://www.kcur.org/listen.html
If you are not able to listen on Christmas Eve, no problem, because Robert's show is now archived. Just go to the following:
http://www.kcur.org/SSArchives.html
I'm not sure how long it will take for the show to be archived, but I'd imagine that you might get to hear it before your fruitcake hardens up. Oh wait, fruitcake by definition has already hardened hasn't it? Well, you get the idea...
Best wishes from our Wilder families to yours...
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Last month of the year...
I'm sitting in the back of the brown clown rolling through the birthplace of water skiing, Lake City, Minnesota. But there aren't too many people out on the vastly wide Mississippi River right now, however, since it's frozen solid and topped with about 6" of snow. We are out on our final tour of the year, a quicky 4-day run taking us from Minneapolis, MN to Columbia, MO with stops in LaCrosse, WI and Iowa City, IA. We've put almost 50,000 miles on the clown since we purchased it in April. Our little conversion van/4x6 trailer combination has served us well, and it feels good to finish out our first year as full time musicians with one more road trip.
What a year! As I think back on 2005, it's hard to believe all the places we've been and all the people we've met. It all started in January with the recording of our new album, "Throw Down", down in Louisiana with Dirk Powell. That trip was followed by a very long tour taking us from Arizona, up the California coast into the northwest, and finally up to Vancouver for our first visit to Canada. As you might remember, we lost The Chief early on in that tour, and our finances have been compromised ever since. But we persevered, and with the purchase of the brown clown, we were able to continue on in April, making our first visits to the southeast United States on a tour that would ultimately prove to have fortuitous later returns due to a stellar inaugural appearance at MerleFest in North Carolina.
Then it was back out west for another first, The Telluride Bluegrass, followed by a return to Montana and Wyoming. The summer closed with a hot and sticky tour starting in New York, continuing on up the eastern seaboard to Maine, and then halfway back across the country and then all the way north, to the upper peninsula of Michigan. Before the leaves even began to turn, we found ourselves back in Michigan for our second appearance at The Wheatland Music Festival, followed by our beloved Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS, then Silver Dollar City in Branson, and finally, IBMA in Nashville. One more plane ride in November, and we were then able to cross Florida, too, off our list of "firsts". It all seems like a blur, but by the time we finish up this current tour, we will have played concerts, clubs and festivals in over 30 states as well as one Canadian province- all in 2005!
Despite all the miles, we are all holding up well. Nate and Melissa had their beautiful baby girl, Gretel, in October, and they are now easing into the routines of parenthood. We've ordered protective flight cases for our instruments to prepare for next year's travel demands, and although we will probably not record another album until late next year, everyone is writing new tunes like crazy. I think we are all looking forward to sitting down together to work on the new material after the holidays. We are also looking forward to visiting some new places in 2006, most notably, our first tour of Alaska in June, and a trip to Ireland in late August. So, as I always say, stayed tuned. There will be lots more stories from the road. Thanks for reading.
brotherphil
What a year! As I think back on 2005, it's hard to believe all the places we've been and all the people we've met. It all started in January with the recording of our new album, "Throw Down", down in Louisiana with Dirk Powell. That trip was followed by a very long tour taking us from Arizona, up the California coast into the northwest, and finally up to Vancouver for our first visit to Canada. As you might remember, we lost The Chief early on in that tour, and our finances have been compromised ever since. But we persevered, and with the purchase of the brown clown, we were able to continue on in April, making our first visits to the southeast United States on a tour that would ultimately prove to have fortuitous later returns due to a stellar inaugural appearance at MerleFest in North Carolina.
Then it was back out west for another first, The Telluride Bluegrass, followed by a return to Montana and Wyoming. The summer closed with a hot and sticky tour starting in New York, continuing on up the eastern seaboard to Maine, and then halfway back across the country and then all the way north, to the upper peninsula of Michigan. Before the leaves even began to turn, we found ourselves back in Michigan for our second appearance at The Wheatland Music Festival, followed by our beloved Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS, then Silver Dollar City in Branson, and finally, IBMA in Nashville. One more plane ride in November, and we were then able to cross Florida, too, off our list of "firsts". It all seems like a blur, but by the time we finish up this current tour, we will have played concerts, clubs and festivals in over 30 states as well as one Canadian province- all in 2005!
Despite all the miles, we are all holding up well. Nate and Melissa had their beautiful baby girl, Gretel, in October, and they are now easing into the routines of parenthood. We've ordered protective flight cases for our instruments to prepare for next year's travel demands, and although we will probably not record another album until late next year, everyone is writing new tunes like crazy. I think we are all looking forward to sitting down together to work on the new material after the holidays. We are also looking forward to visiting some new places in 2006, most notably, our first tour of Alaska in June, and a trip to Ireland in late August. So, as I always say, stayed tuned. There will be lots more stories from the road. Thanks for reading.
brotherphil
Sunday, November 27, 2005
80 is enough already!
Hey folks,
I know I am overdue for an update but I got sidelined with jury duty and have spent the rest of this weekend trying to digest all that Thanksgiving goodness. Rest assured, we are all well and taking care of our homes, families and delayed obligations. Kim and I were blessed last week with a nice visit from Mel, Nate and Gretel. She is growing quickly and looks sort of like Winston Churchill in her carseat. She's only a month old and already she is developing her own personality. Her parents are very, very proud. So I promise I will try to get some sort of update together for you this week but in the meantime, here's a new post so you don't have to scroll down so far to read other bloggers comments. take care.
phil
I know I am overdue for an update but I got sidelined with jury duty and have spent the rest of this weekend trying to digest all that Thanksgiving goodness. Rest assured, we are all well and taking care of our homes, families and delayed obligations. Kim and I were blessed last week with a nice visit from Mel, Nate and Gretel. She is growing quickly and looks sort of like Winston Churchill in her carseat. She's only a month old and already she is developing her own personality. Her parents are very, very proud. So I promise I will try to get some sort of update together for you this week but in the meantime, here's a new post so you don't have to scroll down so far to read other bloggers comments. take care.
phil
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Insert new heading here
Real creative header, I know...
Several things to tell y'all today.
Nate was real glad to get home after IBMA to spend more time with GG and Melissa... he really missed both his girls while we were gone and was such a proud papa, showing everyone pictures and beaming a lot.
IBMA, by the way, was a great success. We worked our butts off, playing late night showcases almost every night, and then there was Fan Fest. A great many of those people had not ever heard of us until that show. They were probably wondering, who are these Wilders and why are they playing right before Rhonda Vincent? Hopefully we gave them the answers in that set. We did great.
It was almost strange playing at 1 pm after all those late night showtimes, though, and let me tell you that we sure do prefer a sound system rather than yelling and overplaying in a hotel room suite! Those can be real fun and we do know how to project, but it takes a toll. I lost my voice by the end of the week (had just enough left to sing at Fan Fest), but it was probably from talking more than singing. You know, I tend to do a lot of the talking, whenever I get a chance, and I'm not just talking about on stage!
There were a lot of folks to talk to -- always the business contacts at IBMA, and other musicians, etc. etc. I think we have secured ourselves a good place in that organization. In fact, I truly believe we wouldn't be where we are without IBMA. That's where we met Mary, our agent extraordinaire, and that's where festival promoters from Telluride/Rockygrass, Grey Fox, Wintergrass, and more, first saw us play (in those hotel rooms, past years). Many of those promoters still came to see us play showcases, and that's a great feeling to know that they want to keep up with us. We also had some time spent with the man who is going to get our new CD out to radio stations everywhere... our first publicist, Al Moss. He's a fantastic fellow, been in the biz for a long time, lives in Nashville now, and is probably even as I write this telling yet another biz person about us. He's a real go-getter -- we met him at Merlefest, and boy are we lucky.
It was great to see our Larryfest friends again, and we did get a chance to play their showcase room too. And, they have sound. (Thanks Howie!) Boy, is that a great thing. We look forward to seeing y'all in December!
A personal highlight for me took place on Friday night. I was having a high-energy big time party jam in a hotel room with some old time musician friends, and was taken aside by a mutual musician friend who whispered in my ear, "we're going to be playing in the room across the hall with Hazel Dickens. And you need to come." O-Kay! I played a couple more tunes with my friends, and excused myself, trying to be cool about it since it was brought to me in secret. I went over there and met Ms. Dickens (if you don't know who she is, let me just say -- THE singer's singer; songwriter; pioneering bluegrass lady; folk music superstar -- AND, she plays electric bass!), and played there for about an hour. It was a small jam and of highest quality and I was lucky to sit next to Ms. Dickens to hear her most powerful voice so close up. Wow. As I readied myself to leave (this was the night before our 1 pm Fan Fest play, and it was going on 3 am by now), Hazel leaned in to me and said, "you really perked this jam up. We were kinda heading down, and you came in, and just perked things up." Wow.
The next night I was at a party and in walks Hazel... when she saw me, she said, "there's My Fiddler!" Wow!! I gave her a copy of Throw Down and I sure hope she likes it and we cross paths again. She's just a regular gal, but I've never seen a singer give themselves to a song more fully than she does. Again, wow.
OK... is that a nice nugget for y'all?
Here's the other thing to let you know about. It's called MySpace and it appears to be the thing that everyone is doing. I found out about it during IBMA when some friends of mine in a new band (The Sidewinders -- old time goodness, y'all, including David Bass, the fiddler from Freight Hoppers) gave me a card with their myspace url on it. Well, it looks like every band we know and so many more we don't are on this thing. So, this weekend I started setting up a page, and it's amazing how fast people are finding us! You can join for free, and it's another place where I can add more Wilders content, cheaper and quicker than on our main site.
our myspace place
You can get lost on this thing, there are so many people out there. But it's already turned me on to a couple new bands. Just thought y'all would want to know about this, being that y'all are the best fans we got!
That brings us back around to this moment and I've got to get ready to do laundry so I have clean things to wear in Florida this weekend. That should be pretty cool, our first Florida fest! So, until I get the bug to do another wordy scatterbrained post... take care all.
Several things to tell y'all today.
Nate was real glad to get home after IBMA to spend more time with GG and Melissa... he really missed both his girls while we were gone and was such a proud papa, showing everyone pictures and beaming a lot.
IBMA, by the way, was a great success. We worked our butts off, playing late night showcases almost every night, and then there was Fan Fest. A great many of those people had not ever heard of us until that show. They were probably wondering, who are these Wilders and why are they playing right before Rhonda Vincent? Hopefully we gave them the answers in that set. We did great.
It was almost strange playing at 1 pm after all those late night showtimes, though, and let me tell you that we sure do prefer a sound system rather than yelling and overplaying in a hotel room suite! Those can be real fun and we do know how to project, but it takes a toll. I lost my voice by the end of the week (had just enough left to sing at Fan Fest), but it was probably from talking more than singing. You know, I tend to do a lot of the talking, whenever I get a chance, and I'm not just talking about on stage!
There were a lot of folks to talk to -- always the business contacts at IBMA, and other musicians, etc. etc. I think we have secured ourselves a good place in that organization. In fact, I truly believe we wouldn't be where we are without IBMA. That's where we met Mary, our agent extraordinaire, and that's where festival promoters from Telluride/Rockygrass, Grey Fox, Wintergrass, and more, first saw us play (in those hotel rooms, past years). Many of those promoters still came to see us play showcases, and that's a great feeling to know that they want to keep up with us. We also had some time spent with the man who is going to get our new CD out to radio stations everywhere... our first publicist, Al Moss. He's a fantastic fellow, been in the biz for a long time, lives in Nashville now, and is probably even as I write this telling yet another biz person about us. He's a real go-getter -- we met him at Merlefest, and boy are we lucky.
It was great to see our Larryfest friends again, and we did get a chance to play their showcase room too. And, they have sound. (Thanks Howie!) Boy, is that a great thing. We look forward to seeing y'all in December!
A personal highlight for me took place on Friday night. I was having a high-energy big time party jam in a hotel room with some old time musician friends, and was taken aside by a mutual musician friend who whispered in my ear, "we're going to be playing in the room across the hall with Hazel Dickens. And you need to come." O-Kay! I played a couple more tunes with my friends, and excused myself, trying to be cool about it since it was brought to me in secret. I went over there and met Ms. Dickens (if you don't know who she is, let me just say -- THE singer's singer; songwriter; pioneering bluegrass lady; folk music superstar -- AND, she plays electric bass!), and played there for about an hour. It was a small jam and of highest quality and I was lucky to sit next to Ms. Dickens to hear her most powerful voice so close up. Wow. As I readied myself to leave (this was the night before our 1 pm Fan Fest play, and it was going on 3 am by now), Hazel leaned in to me and said, "you really perked this jam up. We were kinda heading down, and you came in, and just perked things up." Wow.
The next night I was at a party and in walks Hazel... when she saw me, she said, "there's My Fiddler!" Wow!! I gave her a copy of Throw Down and I sure hope she likes it and we cross paths again. She's just a regular gal, but I've never seen a singer give themselves to a song more fully than she does. Again, wow.
OK... is that a nice nugget for y'all?
Here's the other thing to let you know about. It's called MySpace and it appears to be the thing that everyone is doing. I found out about it during IBMA when some friends of mine in a new band (The Sidewinders -- old time goodness, y'all, including David Bass, the fiddler from Freight Hoppers) gave me a card with their myspace url on it. Well, it looks like every band we know and so many more we don't are on this thing. So, this weekend I started setting up a page, and it's amazing how fast people are finding us! You can join for free, and it's another place where I can add more Wilders content, cheaper and quicker than on our main site.
our myspace place
You can get lost on this thing, there are so many people out there. But it's already turned me on to a couple new bands. Just thought y'all would want to know about this, being that y'all are the best fans we got!
That brings us back around to this moment and I've got to get ready to do laundry so I have clean things to wear in Florida this weekend. That should be pretty cool, our first Florida fest! So, until I get the bug to do another wordy scatterbrained post... take care all.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Baby Gawron born healthy and happy!
Just got a call from Nate. Melissa gave birth at 12:05pm today to a healthy baby girl. Both mother and baby are fine and resting. Here's the basic stats:
weight 7lbs 8 1/2oz
length 19 1/4"
Yippee!
weight 7lbs 8 1/2oz
length 19 1/4"
Yippee!
Friday, October 07, 2005
Throw Down!
Since we've all but finished our extensive travel for the year, I thought I would try to illuminate everybody on the eccentricities of our new cd, "Throw Down". As many of you know, the recording was done down in Beaux Bridge, LA back in January of this year with our new pal Dirk Powell. Dirk's studio, The Cypress House, is an old 3 room Louisiana house that has been converted into a nice digital recording facility. Dirk presided over the recordings from a smallish isolated control room that looks into a rustic, homey feeling medium-size room with exposed timbers and plenty of atmosphere. For almost all the tracks, we played all together in the main room choosing to overdub only a few backing vocals and solos whenever it seemed to make the most sense. Dirk has a nice collection of studio mics, and he spent several hours on the first day swapping mics, adjusting angles and positions, and listening while we warmed up and tried to get over our nervousness. His easy-going, friendly approach to recording made us feel welcome and soon after he got the sound he was looking for, we were up and rolling. When the first day was finished, we had about 8 tunes in the can and headed back to the RV park to get a good night's sleep before heading back the next day around noon. After two days, we had most of the album finished with two more days still set aside for overdubs, and preliminary mixing. In a way, it was the easiest recording we have ever done. Now that I listen to the finished product, I realize that Dirk really captured us at our best. We were excited but also terrified by trying to record our own original tunes. Thanks to Dirk, those tunes, I believe, are the best on the album. Here's some thoughts on the tracks and some back story on where they came from and how they were recorded:
Track 1- Hawk's Got a Chicken and Flew into the Woods
Betse brought this old ozark finger burner to the band sometime in the last two years and we played it live many times before coming down to Dirk's. So we were already pretty comfortable with the arrangement. Oftentimes, Betse has to try to hold us back from rushing the tempo on fiddle tunes, especially when they are really fun to play. On this track, however, it's Betse who charges ahead and honestly, we were barely able to keep up. It came out as frenetic as it felt while we were recording it, and I think it' serves as a great example of our "crazy side"
Track 2- Honky Tonk Habit
Bless Nate Gawron's heart, the boy has got a real feel for writing honky tonk tunes and this is one of his best. I remember when we were rehearsing for the recordings after the holidays, Nate had a very specific way he wanted this tune to be sung. However, Ike's voice is not at all like Nate's, and since Ike was the one who had to sing it, Nate had to let go a little bit and allow him to sing it in his own way. Ike calls this process "putting it through the Wilders machine". The tune percolates along and features a fantastic and wild solo by Betse. It's the first original tune on the album and sounds like it could have been written by some old obscure honky tonker from the 50's.
Track 3- It'll Never be Thru with Us (Until it's Thru with You)
This one is Ike's and it's been around forever. Back in the early days of the Wilders, Ike and I did a short stint doing brother duets and this tune dates back to that time. I've always loved it and when we started talking about doing originals, it was the first one of his that I thought of. The arrangement defiantly smacks of bluegrass and has the one-tow punch of a speedy tempo and impossibly high lonesome backing vocals courtesy of my silly falsetto. We encouraged (threatened) Nate to take a quick bass solo in the middle section and it just turned out great.
Track 4- Won't You Sometimes Think of Me
How do you collaborate with the greatest honky tonk singer of all time- especially when he's been dead for 40 years? Well, if you are Ike Sheldon, you listen to Hank Williams demos and find a truly great, but unfinished song fragment and then use your imagination. This tune is just heart breaking in Hank's plaintive verses, and with the addition of Ike's chorus, it sounds, well, perfectly finished. Betse got the idea to add a harmony fiddle part over her solo which makes my guts ache every time I hear it.
Track 5- Squirrel Hunters
Betse got this tune from the wonderful fiddling of John Hartford. It's actually the first tune we recorded during the sessions and I remember playing it for about an hour while Dirk got the fiddle mic situated just right. Since we were so warmed up, the tune has a cool nonchalant bounce. Everybody but Betse was floored when we listened to the playbacks. She hadn't even considered that it would be included on the album, and to this day, I'm not sure that she understands why we like it so much. When it came down to the final choices for the album, she was still holding out. We are a very democratic band, and the honest truth is that she got outvoted. Thank goodness for democracy!
Track 6- Belshazzar
We've been playing this old Johnny Cash gospel tune since the earliest days of the band. We actually recorded it for our first cd, "Cornbread, Molasses and Sassafrass Tea", but since that one has been out of print for years AND since Nate wasn't even in the band at that time, we decided to give it another go. Nate brings a honky tonk beat to it and we generally juked it up like crazy. Ike always says that preachers don't tell old testament stories like this because it might scare you out of church. Disembodied hands writing on the wall in blood. Yikes.
Track 7-Jenny on the Railroad
Betse got this one from an old 78 recording by Carter Brothers and Son and it just smokes. We recorded it late on the second day and I think Dirk was getting itchy from sitting in the control room for two days. We were warming up on it and all the sudden Dirk appeared in the doorway with his fiddle. We all looked at each other thinking, "is he really? no he wouldn't, yes he would!" Betse ran through it a couple of times so Dirk could get the fingering, and then he ran back into the control room and started it rolling. We recorded it twice and this was the second take. It has a crazy, almost out of control feel punctuated by Ike's yipping and yelling. Wow, Dirk played on one of our tracks. Cool, really cool.
Track 8- Together Apart
I wrote this tune about 4 years ago with the intention that our old pals, Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys, would snatch it up and run with it. That never happened and it sat in the cellar until we started talking about recording originals. I dusted it off and taught it to Ike and he messed around with it for about a week before bringing it back to us in it's current form. The subject matter is pretty depressing but I intended it as a love song. I think anyone who has had a long term relationship can relate to the feeling of this song on some level. I'm pretty proud of the way it turned out.
Track 9- The Blues Come Around
Another Hank Williams tune that we'd been doing live for about a year before the recording. This one almost met with the chopping block during the mixing phase. There was something about it, however, that represented an aspect of the band like no other song we recorded. I used an experimental tuning on the dobro which gives the tune it's 50's honky tonk voicing. I also especially like the fact that the whole band chimes in on choruses.
Track 10- Goat Creek
Betse loves goats- little goats especially, but she'll take whatever goats you've got. We were playing at the Minnesota state fair when Betse showed this to me for the first time. It was obviously a kick-in-the-butt kind of a fiddle tune. I'm not sure when she wrote it, but it sounded completely finished the first time I ever heard it. She taught it to me first, and then we rehearsed it with the band a few weeks later. It was an obvious choice for the recording along with two other Betse originals. During the mixing, it emerged as the one of the best fiddle tunes we recorded, and fit very neatly into the tracking order. Just to let you know, Betse has written several more original fiddle tunes that are just as great (if not better) than this one. You will have many more to look forward to on future recordings.
Track 11- Drivin' Nails in My Coffin
This is another honky tonker that we've been covering for awhile. Ike originally came up with the idea to break it into pieces- a slow waltz on the verses and frantic 4/4 on the verses. It's humorous. It's dumb. It's us.
Track 12- When I Get to Heaven
I'm not sure when Ike wrote this one, but he's been doing it live very occasionally at gospel shows in the last year. He recorded it on the third day after most of the other tracks were finished. We had discussed the possibility of trying a solo and it seemed like the right time/ mood to let him give it a go. Everybody just went outside and let him have at it. Dirk turned the lights down low and Ike reached down deep in his gut to pull this one off. For my money, it's the most honest tune on the record.
Track 13- When the Levee's Gone
I wrote a whole tune around these lyrics many years ago in response to the last Missouri River flood. People were pitching in with the sandbags trying to save downtown Parkville, Missouri and I just let my imagination run. When we started talking about originals, I dug into an old folder and rediscovered the lyrics. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the tune that went with it so I just handed them over to Ike and said, "if you can come up with a tune, here's some words". The next week at practice, he showed up early and played me what he had written for it. I was floored. He took a bluesy dirge about drowning and made it happy. The recording went very easily on this one and I believe it is one of Dirk's favorites. Now, as the city of New Orleans is still being pumped out, the song has taken on a ominous tone for me. We stopped performing it live during the hurricane's aftermath. It was just way too creepy.
Track 14- January Waltz
Oftentimes, we will finish an old timey dance performance with a waltz and it seemed fitting to end the album with this wonderful Betse original. She penned this one several years ago and we actually tried to record it for the "Spring a Leak" album. But that version wasn't up to snuff, and I'm glad for it because we got another chance to get it right for this recording. For me, January waltz brings images to my mind of gray, snow filled skies. It's a lovely tune and lovingly played by all. Incidentally, Dirk's masterful use of digital editing saved this one from the chopping block. You see, my mandolin went horribly out of tune toward the end of the tune. Click click, chop chop and it's saved. And you'd never know it except I just told you.
So that's my take on the takes. If you have a copy, listen to it again and let me know your thoughts. If you haven't got a copy, you can buy it on our website (www.wilderscountry.com). Let's face it, you need the music and we need the money. It's a win win.
all the best.
brotherphil
Track 1- Hawk's Got a Chicken and Flew into the Woods
Betse brought this old ozark finger burner to the band sometime in the last two years and we played it live many times before coming down to Dirk's. So we were already pretty comfortable with the arrangement. Oftentimes, Betse has to try to hold us back from rushing the tempo on fiddle tunes, especially when they are really fun to play. On this track, however, it's Betse who charges ahead and honestly, we were barely able to keep up. It came out as frenetic as it felt while we were recording it, and I think it' serves as a great example of our "crazy side"
Track 2- Honky Tonk Habit
Bless Nate Gawron's heart, the boy has got a real feel for writing honky tonk tunes and this is one of his best. I remember when we were rehearsing for the recordings after the holidays, Nate had a very specific way he wanted this tune to be sung. However, Ike's voice is not at all like Nate's, and since Ike was the one who had to sing it, Nate had to let go a little bit and allow him to sing it in his own way. Ike calls this process "putting it through the Wilders machine". The tune percolates along and features a fantastic and wild solo by Betse. It's the first original tune on the album and sounds like it could have been written by some old obscure honky tonker from the 50's.
Track 3- It'll Never be Thru with Us (Until it's Thru with You)
This one is Ike's and it's been around forever. Back in the early days of the Wilders, Ike and I did a short stint doing brother duets and this tune dates back to that time. I've always loved it and when we started talking about doing originals, it was the first one of his that I thought of. The arrangement defiantly smacks of bluegrass and has the one-tow punch of a speedy tempo and impossibly high lonesome backing vocals courtesy of my silly falsetto. We encouraged (threatened) Nate to take a quick bass solo in the middle section and it just turned out great.
Track 4- Won't You Sometimes Think of Me
How do you collaborate with the greatest honky tonk singer of all time- especially when he's been dead for 40 years? Well, if you are Ike Sheldon, you listen to Hank Williams demos and find a truly great, but unfinished song fragment and then use your imagination. This tune is just heart breaking in Hank's plaintive verses, and with the addition of Ike's chorus, it sounds, well, perfectly finished. Betse got the idea to add a harmony fiddle part over her solo which makes my guts ache every time I hear it.
Track 5- Squirrel Hunters
Betse got this tune from the wonderful fiddling of John Hartford. It's actually the first tune we recorded during the sessions and I remember playing it for about an hour while Dirk got the fiddle mic situated just right. Since we were so warmed up, the tune has a cool nonchalant bounce. Everybody but Betse was floored when we listened to the playbacks. She hadn't even considered that it would be included on the album, and to this day, I'm not sure that she understands why we like it so much. When it came down to the final choices for the album, she was still holding out. We are a very democratic band, and the honest truth is that she got outvoted. Thank goodness for democracy!
Track 6- Belshazzar
We've been playing this old Johnny Cash gospel tune since the earliest days of the band. We actually recorded it for our first cd, "Cornbread, Molasses and Sassafrass Tea", but since that one has been out of print for years AND since Nate wasn't even in the band at that time, we decided to give it another go. Nate brings a honky tonk beat to it and we generally juked it up like crazy. Ike always says that preachers don't tell old testament stories like this because it might scare you out of church. Disembodied hands writing on the wall in blood. Yikes.
Track 7-Jenny on the Railroad
Betse got this one from an old 78 recording by Carter Brothers and Son and it just smokes. We recorded it late on the second day and I think Dirk was getting itchy from sitting in the control room for two days. We were warming up on it and all the sudden Dirk appeared in the doorway with his fiddle. We all looked at each other thinking, "is he really? no he wouldn't, yes he would!" Betse ran through it a couple of times so Dirk could get the fingering, and then he ran back into the control room and started it rolling. We recorded it twice and this was the second take. It has a crazy, almost out of control feel punctuated by Ike's yipping and yelling. Wow, Dirk played on one of our tracks. Cool, really cool.
Track 8- Together Apart
I wrote this tune about 4 years ago with the intention that our old pals, Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys, would snatch it up and run with it. That never happened and it sat in the cellar until we started talking about recording originals. I dusted it off and taught it to Ike and he messed around with it for about a week before bringing it back to us in it's current form. The subject matter is pretty depressing but I intended it as a love song. I think anyone who has had a long term relationship can relate to the feeling of this song on some level. I'm pretty proud of the way it turned out.
Track 9- The Blues Come Around
Another Hank Williams tune that we'd been doing live for about a year before the recording. This one almost met with the chopping block during the mixing phase. There was something about it, however, that represented an aspect of the band like no other song we recorded. I used an experimental tuning on the dobro which gives the tune it's 50's honky tonk voicing. I also especially like the fact that the whole band chimes in on choruses.
Track 10- Goat Creek
Betse loves goats- little goats especially, but she'll take whatever goats you've got. We were playing at the Minnesota state fair when Betse showed this to me for the first time. It was obviously a kick-in-the-butt kind of a fiddle tune. I'm not sure when she wrote it, but it sounded completely finished the first time I ever heard it. She taught it to me first, and then we rehearsed it with the band a few weeks later. It was an obvious choice for the recording along with two other Betse originals. During the mixing, it emerged as the one of the best fiddle tunes we recorded, and fit very neatly into the tracking order. Just to let you know, Betse has written several more original fiddle tunes that are just as great (if not better) than this one. You will have many more to look forward to on future recordings.
Track 11- Drivin' Nails in My Coffin
This is another honky tonker that we've been covering for awhile. Ike originally came up with the idea to break it into pieces- a slow waltz on the verses and frantic 4/4 on the verses. It's humorous. It's dumb. It's us.
Track 12- When I Get to Heaven
I'm not sure when Ike wrote this one, but he's been doing it live very occasionally at gospel shows in the last year. He recorded it on the third day after most of the other tracks were finished. We had discussed the possibility of trying a solo and it seemed like the right time/ mood to let him give it a go. Everybody just went outside and let him have at it. Dirk turned the lights down low and Ike reached down deep in his gut to pull this one off. For my money, it's the most honest tune on the record.
Track 13- When the Levee's Gone
I wrote a whole tune around these lyrics many years ago in response to the last Missouri River flood. People were pitching in with the sandbags trying to save downtown Parkville, Missouri and I just let my imagination run. When we started talking about originals, I dug into an old folder and rediscovered the lyrics. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the tune that went with it so I just handed them over to Ike and said, "if you can come up with a tune, here's some words". The next week at practice, he showed up early and played me what he had written for it. I was floored. He took a bluesy dirge about drowning and made it happy. The recording went very easily on this one and I believe it is one of Dirk's favorites. Now, as the city of New Orleans is still being pumped out, the song has taken on a ominous tone for me. We stopped performing it live during the hurricane's aftermath. It was just way too creepy.
Track 14- January Waltz
Oftentimes, we will finish an old timey dance performance with a waltz and it seemed fitting to end the album with this wonderful Betse original. She penned this one several years ago and we actually tried to record it for the "Spring a Leak" album. But that version wasn't up to snuff, and I'm glad for it because we got another chance to get it right for this recording. For me, January waltz brings images to my mind of gray, snow filled skies. It's a lovely tune and lovingly played by all. Incidentally, Dirk's masterful use of digital editing saved this one from the chopping block. You see, my mandolin went horribly out of tune toward the end of the tune. Click click, chop chop and it's saved. And you'd never know it except I just told you.
So that's my take on the takes. If you have a copy, listen to it again and let me know your thoughts. If you haven't got a copy, you can buy it on our website (www.wilderscountry.com). Let's face it, you need the music and we need the money. It's a win win.
all the best.
brotherphil
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Snake in the Grass
I was getting ready to leave Winfield on Monday. I'd stayed over Sunday night but wasn't up for campground shenanigans due to already losing enough sleep (and my voice) over the weekend. So I splurged on a motel room in town, slept decently, and the next morning headed in to tear my tent and its belongings down.
I had come in to the festival at night, the Wednesday before, when it was already looking really full. My festival family welcomed me in, helped me to set up, and made me feel right at home in this little neck of the woods that was to be home for the next several days. (y'all are the best -- thanks so much -- I miss y'all already)
I came back to the now almost empty camp grounds. My tent was the lone survivor of the neighborhood. Fighting the strong Kansas winds, I emptied my tent of its contents, turned my tent over to dump out dirt clods and grass, laid out my tarp and staked it so it could dry, and began to pile all my stuff around my car.
My car is small (compact) and packing it requires careful consideration. It's not one I can pack by just throwing stuff in any old way. So I couldn't really start packing it until everything was in its respective bag, box, or rolled up or whatever. It took a good hour of work to get to this point.
I had put things near their packing location. For example, my tent, camp chairs, tables, and cooler were near the back of my car. My suitcase, hanging bag of clothes, violin case, and some other odds and ends were near the passenger door. I had opened both doors of the car, having gotten to the point where I was ready to start the big pile-in. My violin case was on the ground right beside the passenger seat area. My hanging bag was draped over the open passenger door. A couple other odds and ends sat nearby. I was about ten feet from this side of my car, and the wind was blowing, so things were flapping around a bit.
But none of them were moving through the grass.
Like the five foot long blacksnake.
Going about 10 mph.
Sliding right past me.
Heading straight for my car.
Slithering over the odds.
And the ends.
Working its way up my violin case.
Its head now above the case.
Peering inside my car.
(This takes about three seconds)
Simultaneously...
I'm crying out, "no, no, no".
I'm running toward the car.
I'm praying the snake will be scared.
I'm waving my arms toward it.
It slides off the case.
Goes under the car.
(The other door is open too...)
I shove my case out of the way...
Throw my hanging clothes off the door...
Slam the passenger door...
Run around my car...
Slam the driver's door...
Stand there shaking...
What if it's in the car...
What if it's in the car...
Where did it go...
Is it in the car?
Oh, sh**.
Where is it.
I emptied out what was already in my car. Poked something under the seats. No sign. I moved my car a few feet. No snake. Nothing to do but pack up. After I'd driven an hour or so, it occurred to me that the snake could have crawled up into the engine where it was nice and warm. So I stopped and lifted the hood, peered around. Nothing.
Nothing to do but hope that old snake stayed in Winfield.
But I haven't been out to my car since I got home.
What if it's sunning itself in the windshield?
Nah...
Certainly not.
I hope...
I had come in to the festival at night, the Wednesday before, when it was already looking really full. My festival family welcomed me in, helped me to set up, and made me feel right at home in this little neck of the woods that was to be home for the next several days. (y'all are the best -- thanks so much -- I miss y'all already)
I came back to the now almost empty camp grounds. My tent was the lone survivor of the neighborhood. Fighting the strong Kansas winds, I emptied my tent of its contents, turned my tent over to dump out dirt clods and grass, laid out my tarp and staked it so it could dry, and began to pile all my stuff around my car.
My car is small (compact) and packing it requires careful consideration. It's not one I can pack by just throwing stuff in any old way. So I couldn't really start packing it until everything was in its respective bag, box, or rolled up or whatever. It took a good hour of work to get to this point.
I had put things near their packing location. For example, my tent, camp chairs, tables, and cooler were near the back of my car. My suitcase, hanging bag of clothes, violin case, and some other odds and ends were near the passenger door. I had opened both doors of the car, having gotten to the point where I was ready to start the big pile-in. My violin case was on the ground right beside the passenger seat area. My hanging bag was draped over the open passenger door. A couple other odds and ends sat nearby. I was about ten feet from this side of my car, and the wind was blowing, so things were flapping around a bit.
But none of them were moving through the grass.
Like the five foot long blacksnake.
Going about 10 mph.
Sliding right past me.
Heading straight for my car.
Slithering over the odds.
And the ends.
Working its way up my violin case.
Its head now above the case.
Peering inside my car.
(This takes about three seconds)
Simultaneously...
I'm crying out, "no, no, no".
I'm running toward the car.
I'm praying the snake will be scared.
I'm waving my arms toward it.
It slides off the case.
Goes under the car.
(The other door is open too...)
I shove my case out of the way...
Throw my hanging clothes off the door...
Slam the passenger door...
Run around my car...
Slam the driver's door...
Stand there shaking...
What if it's in the car...
What if it's in the car...
Where did it go...
Is it in the car?
Oh, sh**.
Where is it.
I emptied out what was already in my car. Poked something under the seats. No sign. I moved my car a few feet. No snake. Nothing to do but pack up. After I'd driven an hour or so, it occurred to me that the snake could have crawled up into the engine where it was nice and warm. So I stopped and lifted the hood, peered around. Nothing.
Nothing to do but hope that old snake stayed in Winfield.
But I haven't been out to my car since I got home.
What if it's sunning itself in the windshield?
Nah...
Certainly not.
I hope...
Monday, September 12, 2005
Home Safe
Howdy folks,
We all made it safely home from the eastern tour. Sorry I didn't write more of the day-to-day drudgery for you, but it was a pretty intense trip, and we had precious little time for relaxation. The gas prices ($3.69 per gallon in Maine!!!) and Labor Day motel price gouging ($120.00 a night for absolute flea bag crap!!!) basically smacked us down for the entire trip, but we made some new fans and friends and were fairly well recieved by the masses. We are still sweating out our new CD deadline of Wednesday with no news thus far. After spending so much dough on the eastern tour, we desperately need to have it for Winfield or we will miss out on huge potential sales. Everybody please send a prayer to the CD manufacturer, AND the truck driver who will deliver it into our hands. If all goes well, the new CD, entitled "Throw Down", will be available by this weekend to all of those who go to Winfield. I have also made arrangements for the CD to be available for purchase on our website by this weekend as well. Everything came together marvelously, the artwork that Betse and I did is pretty danged neat and Ike and Dirk worked very hard to make it sound awesome. Pick it up and Throw Down! I will be shipping web orders all next week.
drive safely to Winfield!
We all made it safely home from the eastern tour. Sorry I didn't write more of the day-to-day drudgery for you, but it was a pretty intense trip, and we had precious little time for relaxation. The gas prices ($3.69 per gallon in Maine!!!) and Labor Day motel price gouging ($120.00 a night for absolute flea bag crap!!!) basically smacked us down for the entire trip, but we made some new fans and friends and were fairly well recieved by the masses. We are still sweating out our new CD deadline of Wednesday with no news thus far. After spending so much dough on the eastern tour, we desperately need to have it for Winfield or we will miss out on huge potential sales. Everybody please send a prayer to the CD manufacturer, AND the truck driver who will deliver it into our hands. If all goes well, the new CD, entitled "Throw Down", will be available by this weekend to all of those who go to Winfield. I have also made arrangements for the CD to be available for purchase on our website by this weekend as well. Everything came together marvelously, the artwork that Betse and I did is pretty danged neat and Ike and Dirk worked very hard to make it sound awesome. Pick it up and Throw Down! I will be shipping web orders all next week.
drive safely to Winfield!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Spin One For The Zipper
August 25th: Trumansburg, New York
Here's a personal detail; I absolutely love fairs. I fondly remember my pop taking me to Sedalia almost every year to spend a day at the Missouri State fair. We'd browse the exhibits, check out the 4H contest winners and then, inevitably, I'd drag him to the midway to get on some sketchy rides and try (unsuccessfully) to win a dumb stuffed animal or a switchblade comb by tossing rings over coke bottles, or shooting moving targets with a poorly sighted BB gun. He'd top off the day by letting me eat some god-awful batter-dipped meat byproducts before yanking me out of there kicking and screaming for more. Maybe it's the corn-dogs, or the rides, or just the complete spectacle of it, but I'm a fair junky for life. So, you can imagine how happy I was when we arrived in the quaint downtown of Trumansburg, New York, and I looked out the window of the van and saw a ferris wheel. This nifty little town fair looked to be a microcosm of all my favorite fair memories- impossibly dangerous-looking rides, batter-dipped foods of all nationalities and, of course, crazy-looking carneys barking at the pretty girls and generally creeping everybody out.
We arrived in the late afternoon a little wobbly from two+ days of solid driving from KC. Since the stage hands were still setting up for the concert, there wasn't much happening yet, so we all scattered and took in the sights in our own way. We were here in Trumansburg as as a supporting act for Buffalo Zydeco, a group made up mostly from the members of New York state jamgrass heroes, Donna the Buffalo. Also on the bill, was a Louisiana band that we had heard loads about, The Red Stick Ramblers. We parked the van in the shade and, out of sheer boredom, actually practiced some new songs before we had to get dressed for the show. We were the first band up and, after being introduced, we got down to the business of playing our stuff for this crowd of local Trumansburgers- none of whom had absolutely any idea of who we were. We got a warm response, but I could tell that the crowd was saving themselves for the main act. This mattered little to me, however, because I was now off work, and ready to get my fair on.
We changed out of our soaking show clothes and lingered in the backstage area to marvel at the Red Stick Ramblers who had stormed the stage in our absence. These guys were pouring it on thick and the crowd danced and sweated and screamed for more. The Ramblers mix western swing and cajun fiddle tunes with the same effortless indifference that our band mixes old-time fiddle tunes with honky tonk. After standing, gape-mouthed and humbled for most of their set, my stomach took control of my brain and demanded something deep-fried immediately. I found Nate and Ike, and quickly deputized them as my fair posse, then we headed out for the midway. Common sense dictates that rides must always precede food, so we purchased tickets and Ike dragged us over to the bumper cars. Now don't get me wrong, I love to smash into other cars. But when you learn to drive in Kansas City, it's a lot of work just avoiding the cars that are trying to smash into you, so neither Nate or I were much interested in Ike's first choice. We made another loop, spent some money on a slice of pizza to tide us over, and then, turning another corner, Nate suddenly said, "Let's ride THAT." Ike and I looked up and stared into the face of THE ZIPPER. It's impossible to describe, but I'll try. The Zipper is an oblong tank-track-shaped structure which has two-seat cars mounted and hanging about every 5 feet. The whole track rotates around a center point tower about 20 feet off the ground. As the oversized chain drive pulls the tank track in circles, the individual human torture cages are free to flip forward, backward and upside down, with each centrifugal spin. Ike watched The Zipper for a moment and then quickly said, "sorry dude, no WAY am I getting on that."
Nate looked at me and flashed me his saddest puppy dog eyes, and I was transported back in time. I now understood what mechanism was in place back at the old MO State fair-why my dad always allowed me to drag him into this kind of crap even though it was probably the last thing he wanted-why I ALWAYS got my way, at least for awhile. I looked at Nate and said, "alright, what the hell." We walked back to the ticket booth and acquired the sufficient admission fee. As a precautionary measure, Nate ran with Ike to the bathroom, and as I walked back to get in line, I noticed the two carneys who, in moments, were going to hold our lives in their hands. The Zipper operator, who shall from this point forth be referred to as "Brutus Maximus", was a solid pro-wrestler type of a guy weighing in at a solid 250lbs+. He had a shaved head and an evil smirk and I could see him eyeing me as I stood at the gate. His assistant, who shall from this point forth be referred as "Renfield", was a wiry guy, barely 5 feet tall, with a handlebar mustache and huge thick oval coke bottle glasses. Brutus had stopped The Zipper momentarily so that Renfield could hose out one of the cars. It seemed a strange time to do routine maintenance on the ride, and then it dawned on me what he must be hosing. Nate and Ike returned from the bathroom and I called out to them, "Dude, check it out, they are HOSING OUT one of the cars. You know what THAT means." Brutus Maximus overheard me and smirked again, clearly enjoying his profession. Renfield finished up with his hose and slammed the door shut as Brutus Maximus cranked her into gear again. As is the case with its benign cousin, The Ferris Wheel, The Zipper can only unload one car at a time. So it took several minutes for Brutus and Renfield to get the few folks standing in line in front of us on board. We stood and watched the superstructure rotate, each car blurring with speed and spin, backwards, forwards, and upside down, before Brutus slammed on the brakes and Renfield opened the cage to release it's woozy occupants. It made me dizzy just to watch, and I briefly considered forgetting the whole thing, but somehow it gave me pleasure to be willing to do something, for once, that was "too crazy" for Ike.
Before I could chicken out, the Zipper stopped rotating again and Renfield swung open the door to an empty cage. Brutus smirked at us again as he took our tickets and Nate and I crawled into our seats. They were wet. Before I could even speak, Renfield slammed the door like an insane jailer and I looked at Nate and said, "Dude, this is the car he was HOSING OUT." The last thing I saw as I looked out of our cage was Renfield and Brutus Maximus laughing. Then all hell broke loose. We were up moving on the outside of the track and then we were inside, then upside down, then outside again. Nate and I held on to the bars of our cage for dear life and screamed our heads off as we flipped upside down and right-side up, again, and again and again. Then Brutus Maximus reversed the gears. Now we were on the inside track, flipping upside down the other direction, now outside, then inside again and another flip, and another. Every once and awhile our cage would be on the end of the track flipping at exactly the same time that the whole track reached the outside point of maximum centrifugal spin. It was at those points that I thought our car was going to fly off the track, landing us somewhere in New Jersey. The terror continued for, what seemed like a half hour, and then suddenly Brutus Maximus slammed the whole track to a stop. He was letting some other lucky jerks off at the bottom while Nate and I hung upside down like bats on a cave ceiling, hose water still dripping around us. Seconds later we were off again, flipping, whipping and spinning around while the blood drained from my forearms. Another brief stop and then we were headed back to the bottom. Suddenly the direction reversed and we flipped about 8 consecutive spins, then the car rocked back the other way and we flipped another 8 spins the other direction, then back again for another 8. We were near the bottom of the track and very close to the end of the ride yet we were now spinning more than ever. I looked out of the cage past my white knuckles and glimpsed Brutus Maximus laughing his head off. I realized that he was deliberately spinning us trying to make us sick. I screamed at Nate, "Dude, he's screwing with us." I don't remember now what Nate said in response because we were again spinning over, and over, and over again. Just when I could almost feel that piece of pizza climbing back up my esophagus, suddenly everything slammed to a stop. Renfield's handlebar mustache and glasses appeared at the door to our cage and the rest of the fair appeared in my shaken vision. We were free. Nate and I spilled out of our cage like soggy sardines and wobbled toward the exit gate. My brain was still spinning but as I passed Brutus Maximus, I smiled and said, "good JOB dude." He smirked back at me and then refocused on his evil lever, throwing it into gear to torture his next unsuspecting prisoners.
Here's a personal detail; I absolutely love fairs. I fondly remember my pop taking me to Sedalia almost every year to spend a day at the Missouri State fair. We'd browse the exhibits, check out the 4H contest winners and then, inevitably, I'd drag him to the midway to get on some sketchy rides and try (unsuccessfully) to win a dumb stuffed animal or a switchblade comb by tossing rings over coke bottles, or shooting moving targets with a poorly sighted BB gun. He'd top off the day by letting me eat some god-awful batter-dipped meat byproducts before yanking me out of there kicking and screaming for more. Maybe it's the corn-dogs, or the rides, or just the complete spectacle of it, but I'm a fair junky for life. So, you can imagine how happy I was when we arrived in the quaint downtown of Trumansburg, New York, and I looked out the window of the van and saw a ferris wheel. This nifty little town fair looked to be a microcosm of all my favorite fair memories- impossibly dangerous-looking rides, batter-dipped foods of all nationalities and, of course, crazy-looking carneys barking at the pretty girls and generally creeping everybody out.
We arrived in the late afternoon a little wobbly from two+ days of solid driving from KC. Since the stage hands were still setting up for the concert, there wasn't much happening yet, so we all scattered and took in the sights in our own way. We were here in Trumansburg as as a supporting act for Buffalo Zydeco, a group made up mostly from the members of New York state jamgrass heroes, Donna the Buffalo. Also on the bill, was a Louisiana band that we had heard loads about, The Red Stick Ramblers. We parked the van in the shade and, out of sheer boredom, actually practiced some new songs before we had to get dressed for the show. We were the first band up and, after being introduced, we got down to the business of playing our stuff for this crowd of local Trumansburgers- none of whom had absolutely any idea of who we were. We got a warm response, but I could tell that the crowd was saving themselves for the main act. This mattered little to me, however, because I was now off work, and ready to get my fair on.
We changed out of our soaking show clothes and lingered in the backstage area to marvel at the Red Stick Ramblers who had stormed the stage in our absence. These guys were pouring it on thick and the crowd danced and sweated and screamed for more. The Ramblers mix western swing and cajun fiddle tunes with the same effortless indifference that our band mixes old-time fiddle tunes with honky tonk. After standing, gape-mouthed and humbled for most of their set, my stomach took control of my brain and demanded something deep-fried immediately. I found Nate and Ike, and quickly deputized them as my fair posse, then we headed out for the midway. Common sense dictates that rides must always precede food, so we purchased tickets and Ike dragged us over to the bumper cars. Now don't get me wrong, I love to smash into other cars. But when you learn to drive in Kansas City, it's a lot of work just avoiding the cars that are trying to smash into you, so neither Nate or I were much interested in Ike's first choice. We made another loop, spent some money on a slice of pizza to tide us over, and then, turning another corner, Nate suddenly said, "Let's ride THAT." Ike and I looked up and stared into the face of THE ZIPPER. It's impossible to describe, but I'll try. The Zipper is an oblong tank-track-shaped structure which has two-seat cars mounted and hanging about every 5 feet. The whole track rotates around a center point tower about 20 feet off the ground. As the oversized chain drive pulls the tank track in circles, the individual human torture cages are free to flip forward, backward and upside down, with each centrifugal spin. Ike watched The Zipper for a moment and then quickly said, "sorry dude, no WAY am I getting on that."
Nate looked at me and flashed me his saddest puppy dog eyes, and I was transported back in time. I now understood what mechanism was in place back at the old MO State fair-why my dad always allowed me to drag him into this kind of crap even though it was probably the last thing he wanted-why I ALWAYS got my way, at least for awhile. I looked at Nate and said, "alright, what the hell." We walked back to the ticket booth and acquired the sufficient admission fee. As a precautionary measure, Nate ran with Ike to the bathroom, and as I walked back to get in line, I noticed the two carneys who, in moments, were going to hold our lives in their hands. The Zipper operator, who shall from this point forth be referred to as "Brutus Maximus", was a solid pro-wrestler type of a guy weighing in at a solid 250lbs+. He had a shaved head and an evil smirk and I could see him eyeing me as I stood at the gate. His assistant, who shall from this point forth be referred as "Renfield", was a wiry guy, barely 5 feet tall, with a handlebar mustache and huge thick oval coke bottle glasses. Brutus had stopped The Zipper momentarily so that Renfield could hose out one of the cars. It seemed a strange time to do routine maintenance on the ride, and then it dawned on me what he must be hosing. Nate and Ike returned from the bathroom and I called out to them, "Dude, check it out, they are HOSING OUT one of the cars. You know what THAT means." Brutus Maximus overheard me and smirked again, clearly enjoying his profession. Renfield finished up with his hose and slammed the door shut as Brutus Maximus cranked her into gear again. As is the case with its benign cousin, The Ferris Wheel, The Zipper can only unload one car at a time. So it took several minutes for Brutus and Renfield to get the few folks standing in line in front of us on board. We stood and watched the superstructure rotate, each car blurring with speed and spin, backwards, forwards, and upside down, before Brutus slammed on the brakes and Renfield opened the cage to release it's woozy occupants. It made me dizzy just to watch, and I briefly considered forgetting the whole thing, but somehow it gave me pleasure to be willing to do something, for once, that was "too crazy" for Ike.
Before I could chicken out, the Zipper stopped rotating again and Renfield swung open the door to an empty cage. Brutus smirked at us again as he took our tickets and Nate and I crawled into our seats. They were wet. Before I could even speak, Renfield slammed the door like an insane jailer and I looked at Nate and said, "Dude, this is the car he was HOSING OUT." The last thing I saw as I looked out of our cage was Renfield and Brutus Maximus laughing. Then all hell broke loose. We were up moving on the outside of the track and then we were inside, then upside down, then outside again. Nate and I held on to the bars of our cage for dear life and screamed our heads off as we flipped upside down and right-side up, again, and again and again. Then Brutus Maximus reversed the gears. Now we were on the inside track, flipping upside down the other direction, now outside, then inside again and another flip, and another. Every once and awhile our cage would be on the end of the track flipping at exactly the same time that the whole track reached the outside point of maximum centrifugal spin. It was at those points that I thought our car was going to fly off the track, landing us somewhere in New Jersey. The terror continued for, what seemed like a half hour, and then suddenly Brutus Maximus slammed the whole track to a stop. He was letting some other lucky jerks off at the bottom while Nate and I hung upside down like bats on a cave ceiling, hose water still dripping around us. Seconds later we were off again, flipping, whipping and spinning around while the blood drained from my forearms. Another brief stop and then we were headed back to the bottom. Suddenly the direction reversed and we flipped about 8 consecutive spins, then the car rocked back the other way and we flipped another 8 spins the other direction, then back again for another 8. We were near the bottom of the track and very close to the end of the ride yet we were now spinning more than ever. I looked out of the cage past my white knuckles and glimpsed Brutus Maximus laughing his head off. I realized that he was deliberately spinning us trying to make us sick. I screamed at Nate, "Dude, he's screwing with us." I don't remember now what Nate said in response because we were again spinning over, and over, and over again. Just when I could almost feel that piece of pizza climbing back up my esophagus, suddenly everything slammed to a stop. Renfield's handlebar mustache and glasses appeared at the door to our cage and the rest of the fair appeared in my shaken vision. We were free. Nate and I spilled out of our cage like soggy sardines and wobbled toward the exit gate. My brain was still spinning but as I passed Brutus Maximus, I smiled and said, "good JOB dude." He smirked back at me and then refocused on his evil lever, throwing it into gear to torture his next unsuspecting prisoners.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Jetsetting and last minute album scrambling
I'm sitting here quietly looking out the window thousands of miles above the eastern Utah desert. We are on our flight home from the Grand Targhee Bluegrass Festival in Alta, Wyoming and frankly, I'm pooped. But what a great time. This cool festival, situated just below the western face of the Teton range, attracts a nice mix of local mountain dwellers, avid mountain bikers and colorful mountain hippies. It was a nice sized festival with excellent sound and an imposing lineup of bluegrass/newgrass powerpickers. Rather than writing a novel here, I'll just give y'all the highlights. We played our first set on Saturday afternoon following Darol Anger and Mike Marshall. I don't think the crowd had any idea of what they were in for because once Betse broke into the first fiddle tune, they went absolutely nuts. For the rest of the set, the crowd throbbed around the stage dancing up a cloud of dust like Pig Pen in a Peanuts Christmas Special. After the show, we got to meet many nice folks who came to the CD table to buy our stuff and tell us how much they enjoyed it. Later that evening, our brave and beloved Betse raised some serious hell during the all-star, all-male, super pickers finale led by Sam Bush- but that's her story to tell.
We were the first band up on Sunday, and I was thinking that everyone had decided to sleep in due to the lack of an audience about 11:55am. But people started trickling in as we tuned up and when Betse hit the first fiddle tune, the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled. We played a secular set but threw in a fair number of gospel tunes and the crowd really ate it up. Overall I'd say that we made quite an impression. There's lots more to tell, but Betse will tell it better than me since she actually participated and witnessed the story rather than hearing about it second hand.
On the home front, we are working diligently to complete our new album in time for Winfield. Everyone please cross your fingers and toes that we can get it done in 4 weeks...Betse and I are handling the artwork, while Ike works long distance with Dirk Powell and the mastering guys in Nashville to insure that it will sound its best. For those of you that need a Wilders fix, we have two new live shows available for download on our website. Go to the "listen" link and you can click and download to your heart's content. Warning! If you have a dial-up connection, you are going to wait forever because I decide to encode these shows at a higher audio quality. Do yourselves a favor and get a broadband connection if you can. You won't regret it. This will especially help you if you also want to download the new video links that are on the same page. More good news is forthcoming.
We were the first band up on Sunday, and I was thinking that everyone had decided to sleep in due to the lack of an audience about 11:55am. But people started trickling in as we tuned up and when Betse hit the first fiddle tune, the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled. We played a secular set but threw in a fair number of gospel tunes and the crowd really ate it up. Overall I'd say that we made quite an impression. There's lots more to tell, but Betse will tell it better than me since she actually participated and witnessed the story rather than hearing about it second hand.
On the home front, we are working diligently to complete our new album in time for Winfield. Everyone please cross your fingers and toes that we can get it done in 4 weeks...Betse and I are handling the artwork, while Ike works long distance with Dirk Powell and the mastering guys in Nashville to insure that it will sound its best. For those of you that need a Wilders fix, we have two new live shows available for download on our website. Go to the "listen" link and you can click and download to your heart's content. Warning! If you have a dial-up connection, you are going to wait forever because I decide to encode these shows at a higher audio quality. Do yourselves a favor and get a broadband connection if you can. You won't regret it. This will especially help you if you also want to download the new video links that are on the same page. More good news is forthcoming.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
The Power of Water
(added this pic in response to recent question)
This, folks, is an erhu:
Here's something that has been resonating with me lately. And it has nothing and everything to do with music.
First, does anyone recall me giving props to water at a show any time in the last year or so? Well, I have. Pretty frequently. It probably started from needing to say something on the mic while others were tuning or whatever, but also needing a drink of water. As y'all know, I lose a lot of water in the form of sweat during a show, so I need to replenish. Ever since the first time, I find myself talking about water almost every show. (I said something Friday night, even.) Anyway, I recognize its importance even if I still probably need to drink more every day.
Last fall, Phil took all us Wilders to see this film/documentary called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" -- it's mostly about quantum physics, but also mostly about who we all are and why we are and how we can be... there was a little segment in there that showed photomicrographs of water crystals. The researcher, Masaru Emoto, had pictures of water that had been shown information. Like, "Love". Water responds to ~hado~, or vibrations. It can come in the form of the written word, or spoken, and also through music or images.
Many of the interviewees in the film have written books and I always meant to check some out. But honestly, as life keeps on going, it's easy to pass by and not follow through. You know how it is.
So, when we were in Middlebury, Vermont last month, we had a couple of hours to kill before the show. Everybody went their own way... we were staying in a beautiful inn, right downtown, and I took a walk down the street to window shop. I went into a bookstore and glanced at new releases. There was a book from Emoto, "The True Power of Water". I picked it up and started reading it that night.
Finding this book is a turning point for me. I won't try to summarize it for you. But you can check out the link (in the title) for yourself. I believe in the power of water. I'm going to read Emoto's other books now, and every morning I thank my water before and after I drink it.
You should try it, too.
This, folks, is an erhu:
Here's something that has been resonating with me lately. And it has nothing and everything to do with music.
First, does anyone recall me giving props to water at a show any time in the last year or so? Well, I have. Pretty frequently. It probably started from needing to say something on the mic while others were tuning or whatever, but also needing a drink of water. As y'all know, I lose a lot of water in the form of sweat during a show, so I need to replenish. Ever since the first time, I find myself talking about water almost every show. (I said something Friday night, even.) Anyway, I recognize its importance even if I still probably need to drink more every day.
Last fall, Phil took all us Wilders to see this film/documentary called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" -- it's mostly about quantum physics, but also mostly about who we all are and why we are and how we can be... there was a little segment in there that showed photomicrographs of water crystals. The researcher, Masaru Emoto, had pictures of water that had been shown information. Like, "Love". Water responds to ~hado~, or vibrations. It can come in the form of the written word, or spoken, and also through music or images.
Many of the interviewees in the film have written books and I always meant to check some out. But honestly, as life keeps on going, it's easy to pass by and not follow through. You know how it is.
So, when we were in Middlebury, Vermont last month, we had a couple of hours to kill before the show. Everybody went their own way... we were staying in a beautiful inn, right downtown, and I took a walk down the street to window shop. I went into a bookstore and glanced at new releases. There was a book from Emoto, "The True Power of Water". I picked it up and started reading it that night.
Finding this book is a turning point for me. I won't try to summarize it for you. But you can check out the link (in the title) for yourself. I believe in the power of water. I'm going to read Emoto's other books now, and every morning I thank my water before and after I drink it.
You should try it, too.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Are there any questions?
Would it surprise many of you to learn that I've grown very bored writing and posting our road stories? I'll bet not, considering that my last post was an exhaustive essay on modern outhouses. In fact, I was just discussing this blog last weekend with one of my great old friends, Bill Rexroad, at the Santa Rosa Tick Festival. I told him that, anymore, the story is pretty much always the same: We check out of our motel in the morning, we drive all day, we arrive at the gig on time (usually), we wait around, we play a great show (usually), the audience likes it a lot (usually), and then we go check into a motel, rinse and repeat. The exciting days of trying to resuscitate The Chief each day are over and I just don't think I have much to write about that would be of interest to anyone anymore.
I was a little surprised when Mr. Rexroad admonished me for my poor attitude toward the blog. He said that people really enjoy reading about what we do, where we are etc. So, out of my sincere respect for Bill AND since I'm home for a few weeks, I'd like to ask you folks who are reading this, what do you want to know? What can I tell you that you don't already know? Is there a story, particularly, that you want to read? Is there anything that I've written about that you'd like more information on?
I'll pay attention to your posts and try to respond accordingly. Thanks for reading.
I was a little surprised when Mr. Rexroad admonished me for my poor attitude toward the blog. He said that people really enjoy reading about what we do, where we are etc. So, out of my sincere respect for Bill AND since I'm home for a few weeks, I'd like to ask you folks who are reading this, what do you want to know? What can I tell you that you don't already know? Is there a story, particularly, that you want to read? Is there anything that I've written about that you'd like more information on?
I'll pay attention to your posts and try to respond accordingly. Thanks for reading.
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