E.W. Harris : Folktronicist

By the sea in the land of port

Fri, 10 May 2013 11:53:13 -0400

By the sea in the land of port

Someone important probably lives/lived here

Fri, 10 May 2013 11:52:25 -0400

Someone important probably lives/lived here

New England: Land of Port

Fri, 10 May 2013 11:50:49 -0400

It’s a confusingly bright morning in Portland Maine; somehow equally misty and bright. Pleasure boats bob idly in the water as fishers and tugs skate a slow white wake across the surface.

Yesterday was a red letter day. I had a lobster roll, looked at boats, and drank many of the fine malted beverages indigenous to this place.

The Flask Lounge is a very nice place, a cute local, confidently cool and illuminatingly unpretentious. The club sits in a renovated historical district of town, probably called “Something Hill” or “Random Heights.” I guess I could look it up, but some mishmash of undeserved ennui and welcome sunshine stays my thumb.

The show was uneventful, so uneventful that the first band Modern Rust didn’t even show. I was distracted most of the time, but it seemed to go over very well. Joel Carpenter & the Effects were very good. It is most excellent to see and share a bill with a band like them. Like the town of Portland itself, their commitment to the craftsmanship of rock and roll is staggering a time of neophillic fad bands.

After the show the ages old demon of fatigue was upon us. As we were (and are) time rich and cash poor in this venture I decided we were going to camp. Everyone was resistant to this idea but I didn’t really care much. The park was called Bradbury Mountain…as in Ray. I think everyone had a bad nights sleep except me, and my desire for balance makes me feel somewhat guilty, but I rarely insist on things like this…plus it was basically free. I feel like cheapness is a trait crucial to this kind of touring, it really couldn’t happen otherwise. Think about it, at super cheap rates (something like 20 bucks a day per person) accommodation alone is in the neighborhood of 80 bucks a day. Add 5 dollars per meal per person per day and gas and what have you got…..a really shitty vacation. Broke = game over

I suppose it is the problem solving I enjoy most about this lifestyle. Finding new places, learning new things, and most of all putting my limited resourcefulness to the test again and again. Add the battle for momentary transcendence endemic in music to the mix and what have you got? Thrills….and not the cheap ones either. The opportunity to decisively win (or lose) hundreds of little battles (not to mention the medium ones) every single day. That might sound irritating to many, but to me that’s what it’s all about….that is except the hokey pokey.

Shenanigans

Thu, 09 May 2013 15:48:48 -0400

Shenanigans

New England: Birthplace of Freedom

Thu, 09 May 2013 10:59:53 -0400

I am reporting live today from the Dunkin Donuts in scenic Framingham MA. The melange of sharp greys and dull greens rolls out before me twisting itself into auto wreckers, scraggly trees, and broke ass superhighways. It’s not so bleak as it sounds though, there is a certain earnestness about the terrain. It is as though a war took place here in extreme slow motion…..maybe it did.

Yesterday was a strange one, a kind of jaunt through terrible weather and excellent diners (JP Spoonem’s of Cranston, RI and The Loving Hut of Worcester being particular highlights). I would describe them but the confines of this medium force my brevity.

When we arrived at the venue it was pouring rain. Drab sheets of water ran through the rills in the cold-cracked asphalt, but lo…..well, it just kept raining. The Lucky Dog was still closed so I made my way through the deluge to a pub called The Banner. It was what I expected, a nice local pub, full from the weather and the hockey playoffs, and I had a quiet pint. I really love the quiet pint, and so (by extension) I developed an instant affection for the place.

After a while Erick arrived to open up Lucky Dog. I haven’t decided as to whether he or the place is more awesome. An incredible room filled with the sweetest form of eclectic decor, run by a guy with the coolest permutation of the Massachusetts accent.

We were playing with a rock band from Long Island called In Circles that were very good. They were young and sloppy, but their energy was as electrified as their giant amps. They were followed by a jammy local band called Killiney Woods. Our set was late and not many folks were there but our commitment to the bit remained intact. Afterward we closed out the bar talking, drinking, and trading stories with Erick until everyone’s show buzz was replaced with exhaustion. He apologized for the lack of attendance, but this is new turf for us and making an ally like him here was more than worth the trip.

The sweetest place in Worcester…and perhaps the world

Thu, 09 May 2013 03:28:26 -0400

The sweetest place in Worcester…and perhaps the world

Photo

Wed, 08 May 2013 10:48:27 -0400

New England: Day One

Wed, 08 May 2013 09:03:43 -0400

I find myself in peculiar circumstances this morning, in a chair, in an art studio (surprisingly free of art), in Providence, in Rhode Island, on the Earth, in the the Sol System, in the Milky Way Galaxy, in the only universe we even remotely understand without math.

The last two nights have been good. The Mercury Lounge was a success, and we played a very interesting bar called Dusk in a warehouse district of Providence. I expect I should’ve taken pictures, but that’s the way it goes.

There is an exciting element of experimentation to this tour. We have more people now (thus more stuff), are covering new terrain, and I am attempting to write this with my phone. We shall see how it all turns out. I suspect it will be good.

It seems like a good time to finish up for today. We are headed for Worcester, Massachusetts and the Lucky Dog Music Hall, and I keep suppressing this funny greedy feeling. It’s almost like a Pokemon type mania. All these states are so new and so small with cultural and culinary peculiarities I feel like I’ve got to catch em all.

The Altered States of America: Dreamtide

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 17:08:41 -0500

The road to Asheville is long and mountains are treacherous in a 1988 Corrola station wagon. I am proud to say we made it through them and through the cold mountain night to The Landing and the Dreamtide festival. We met Phil there and then talked to our contact Andor and found out what the deal would be for the night. He said we’d be on about midnight, and judging by overall feeling of slow dreaminess pervading the place I figured it’d probably be a bit later and a pretty prime slot. Left to our own devices, we loaded in, secured our stuff and met Mark and Whitney for dinner in Asheville proper. It was great to see them again and we had some pretty amazing pizza at a place called the Standard Pizza Co. or some such thing. When we returned it was still early so it was time to explore. Like many hippie-type events the whole thing was divided into a variety of stations featuring different buzz enhancing activities. Mostly bored by this I returned to the music room and basked in the heat of a giant wood stove while all kinds of performers made music at varying degrees of skill.

As for my two cents about it…this whole thing is a Timothy Leary/Ken Kesey freakout 2.0 that I can’t even really begin to describe…or clearly understand. The Landing is a kind of compound of open homes populated at all times by 17+ freethinking Ashevillians. The look of it is similar to a kind of motel adorned with a variety of ceremonial looking fires and ephemeral led laser art. The trappings of this are all extremely to my taste, it is the feel and underlying motivations of the whole thing that is baffling. You may know this about me but I will do nearly anything as long as I have at least a trifecta of solid reasons to do so. For example, jumping off a cliff into a river. Reason one, I really want to because it’d be cool. Reason two, this is excellent fodder for stories when I feel nervous or anxious in a conversation with someone. Reason three, I have observed locals do this with no particular technique, and I will likely never have the opportunity to do this again with rednecks as an ideal control group. These may or may not be good reasons but I feel they are all solid. As far as this community is concerned I’ve got the cool part. I figure the cost is diffused and everyone has more space. This is the hitch, I cannot produce an authentic reason why I personally would do this. I suppose being part of such a community is of higher value to these folks than the inevitable drama/hassle/lack of privacy. Not for me, but it is cool to go to their parties.

Back to the chronology, I really enjoyed my time in the “Awarehouse” music room. It was excellent to cool out and enjoy the kind of compounding micro-decor that hippie types do so well. Our show however was good, but felt very weird. Jasper had suggested we start with some slow stuff, but being the jerk that I am I insisted on playing the set. In retrospect, after the philosopho-musical vagaries of improv electro, and the crisp but ambient loop-violin show, loud weird rock and roll can be a bit jarring to the psychoactivated mind. This being the case, and competing with a variety of other consumption related activities, the crowd thinned a bit during our show. I was assured afterword that those who were there were mesmerized and I did talk to a guy who told us that we must have arrived on angel wings specifically to blow his mind. I can get behind that.

We left shortly following Mr. Mark Garner back to his home atop the mountain. This departure was rudely interrupted however by the Asheville police. It seems as though I had rolled through a stop sign. The whole thing, even at the time, seemed so ridiculous. We, some grungy dudes in a 25 year old car leaving a crazy solstice party that celebrated the non-ending of the world, had to be the only rock band in America stone sober with not so much as a speck of keif dust to be found on us. You could kind of see in the cop’s face that he felt like an ass, but had to give us a ticket to appease the three cars he’d called in as backup. Though it was funny I was really angry at myself as the fines resulted in 50 bucks plus 238 dollars in court costs. Infuriating. Anyway, luckily we could (grudgingly) pay the ticket, so we proceeded to Mark’s place.

The road up the mountain is long, but my blogging time has grown short so I will describe it in more detail in the next installment.

The Altered States of America: Home is where your friends are

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 16:25:24 -0500

We arrived in Leiper’s Fork, to the home of Casey and Molly Black at six o’clock in the morning. I was groggy, Jasper was past verbal, and Don had just been hit by his 98th wind. If it weren’t for that damn central time zone we’d have been an hour more polite, but as it was we were ridiculously early/late. Luckily Molly’s alarm clock had just sung its worktime song, and so it wasn’t as though we wrenched them both out of geometric dreamscapes populated by pearly unicorns…only Casey. I still felt bad. I don’t remember much aside from remarking on how soft and padded the carpet seemed and attempting to fit into a mummy sleeping bag crafted for a much smaller person.

The next thing I knew it was nearly noon and the smells of something delicious cooking awoke my beast-self, the clamour of its opportunivoracity eventually rousing my conscious mind. Apparently Don (on his 117th wind) and Casey had gone to the grocery store and acquired eggs and some potatoes of the red-skinned variety. It was even more delicious than it smelled, and I whiled away the half-morning catching up with Casey and grilling Don about how the eggs were seasoned. It was good. When we had all awakened, I asked if Casey had a football or something. Though it was not what I meant he pulled out a European football and we proceeded to kick it around for some time. It was clear within minutes that Jasper was far and away the superior footballer amongst us. It was good that we weren’t playing a very competitive sort of game though. The thrust of this game of soccer was mainly to say crazy stuff before kicking the ball… preferably in an outrageous accent. I would elaborate on this, but aside from it being less magical if I did it would also be substantially less funny. I hate it when people say this but you had to be there.

Playing pretend third world schoolboy is exhausting and so we took the party back inside and played some songs…an activity we are all better at. Casey had some new country stuff to show us and an absolutely awesome video for “Fire.” When dark set in and we started to get hungry we headed out to a place called Country Boy for dinner. It is a funny little place in Leiper’s Fork proper. It’s kind of like a grungy family restaurant that is not grungy in the least. It was nicely well lit, and thoroughly confusing. There are places like this in the spectrum of casual dining, but not precisely like this one. Most are grungy diners, cheap food, not so clean, decent food, kind of a dining staple of my life. The other end of the spectrum are folksy tourist traps where you have the honor of sitting on cheap furniture, anachronistic bric-a-brac discreetly bolted to the walls with all the artistic subtlety of an auto accident, and paying 15 bucks for a fried catfish sandwich on white bread with miracle whip. This place however was directly in the center of this spectrum. A well kept high standards version of the first, or a completely sincere iteration of the second. The food was great as well.

When dinner was done we returned to the casa del Black and began to prepare for the evenings festivities. We were setting up as Molly arrived home and so we got a chance to catch up a bit with her in the conscious hours. I gathered that she has a Madmen-esque job these days and that seems pretty cool. Before long furniture was moved and the guests started to arrive.

There were a lot of faces familiar and new and I was glad to see again the various characters that have populated Casey’s sphere of being. The show was awesome. Casey opened up with a few songs and it was really good to play on those tunes again. After playing his tunes he joined us on cajon. It was really great to have him back in the band if just for a night and we had an amazingly good time. It seemed to go over very well and though I would’ve come just to see Casey and Molly we did alright in terms of sales and tips and that was a huge relief.

After the show we hung out and it was amazing the sense of community that permeated the event. It turned out that most our audience had moved elsewhere living lives big and small, near and far from the town where they grew up. I was a kind of gypsy as a kid, and though I kind of had this experience with family, I’ve never had it with friends. This is an amazing feeling to be included in this. I guess I really understood for the first time why people get so assed up about the holidays. It’s not just the reminiscences of times past but a kind of magnetic sweep over our lives, realigning our atoms and reassuring us that we are all part of something effected and bound by the same forces in the end. It was hard to see everyone go after connecting and reconnecting with them, hard to leave in the morning, but this is the life I signed up for so there it is.

The Altered States of America: Iridescent Terrapins Flicker in Athens

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 15:35:56 -0500

Today was my less than triumphant return to the town I claim as my home. Less than triumphant, but more than enough…that is how I’d describe it. We left Nathan’s place strangely, Jasper left his shoes behind trying to prevent a neigborhood dog from getting in the house. Finding that Nathan and Cody had already left to go to Gary and Vicki’s place on the lake there wasn’t much we could do so we headed Athens way.

On the Coralee front, it seemed as though our new junkyard tire had developed a slow leak and, being a constant source of anxiety was a problem that needed to be fixed. Luckily Kyle’s dad’s shop was on the way and Dave patched the thing up in minutes. That being done we proceeded to the Grit, my favorite restaurant of all time, I had the golden bowl as usual, and I my anxieties about my once home were momentarily pacified.

After some attempts at geocaching and some wandering around it was time to proceed to the Terrapin Brewery. As we walked into the back biergarten Kate greeted us. It was an exchange surprisingly far from strange. There was admittedly a lot of buildup in my psyche anyway. Meeting again my once lover four years later in a oddly professiono-casual setting. Her native directness diffused the whole thing in a big hurry as she welcomed us and told us what the deal was and where to set up to play. It was to be a day of reunions I began to understand as Mr. Kell Dodson arrived with the PA. Still holding the record for my most reliable friend, he brought us a very nice PA at that. It was amazingly good to see him, and I hope that he follows through on his threat to crash at our place in Brooklyn. The gig was kind of rough (as I was later to find it always is) but I had a good time reliving some Telecash memories with Mr. Nathan Willams and looking out onto a scene populated by characters from my Athens past. Paul Davis, his sister Katy, Leigh Ann, Dave Fitz, Nathan and Cody, Rainey…it would have only been more complete if Dawkins and Isaac had suddenly arrived.

Our exit from Terrapin was hasty as we had to make another gig at the Flicker Bar by 9. I was a bit disappointed as I only had time to really try the experimental peanut butter chocolate beer. It was very good I might add. As the beer tour shut down we packed up quickly, bid everyone adieu, rounded up those still interested in partying and headed to Flicker. More on home turf, the flicker show was substantially better. I really like that place and as we walked in Mark was already setting up for the roots xmas party. We set up and got ready to play with New York haste so we were on pretty directly. For this gig we were accompanied by american baritone Benjamin C. Dawkins. As always he delivered a most stellar performance and it is always a pleasure to have him onstage. We were followed by a number of great folk songwriters and singers led by a man named Mark Cunningham. He is a really nice guy, and a good songwriter to boot and I got kind of….shall we say, folked up, all the while catching up on the events in all our lives that transpired since last we spoke. It was nice, and before long it was time to go. Our sleeping options being somewhat limited, and imposing where available, we decided to make the drive onto Nashville.

I don’t remember much from the drive, being passed out for most of it, I just remember being nervous about driving down a country driveway in rural Tennesee (rock salt being what it is), and being hesitant to wake up Casey when we arrived at 6 in the morning. What transpired next though is a story for another entry.

The Altered States of America: Respite and resolution

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 15:47:22 -0500

We arrived in Milledgeville a bit too late, but Nathan and Cody only seemed a little annoyed. I apologized and Nathan made some hyper sincere statement followed by a hilariously snarky joke so I knew it was all good. It is always great to see them.

Our stay there was (with the exception of Jasper testing his new-found geocaching skills) mostly restful and involved a lot of sleeping and watching of movies we’d missed out on. Everyone these days seems to have these giant high frame rate TV’s. They are very cool but there is a certain tele-mystique that is somehow ruined by them. From the makeup on the actor’s faces to the temporary sets one can really see behind the curtain, so much so that even the big budget movies of yore look like sci-fi channel original miniseries from the late nineties. In most places this would be a little unnerving, stealing from the magic of the experience. At Nathan’s however, it is a huge bonus, the revealed flaws giving him an even greater platform for his unique brand of media jokery. If I had some investment capital I would definitely produce the Nathan show. It would be kind of like the thinking man’s Beavis and Butthead.

After restful nights and pleasant days, I was ready to brave the hipster vortex of Athens, GA. It is a bitter sweet place in my mind, but we are buys all day and I expect it will be, if not a positive one, a rich experience for us all.

The Altered States of America: The hunt for treasure, both corporeal and ephemeral

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 15:19:50 -0500

It was a particularly beautiful day when we arrived in Savannah. The sun filtered through the Spanish moss draped oaks dappling the broad smooth streets with shifting flecks of afternoon sunshine. We were bound for the home of Don’s longtime friend Matt Uhl. When we arrived Matt greeted us, introduced us to his wife Corey and offered to take us downtown and show us around.

Downtown Savannah was a lot nicer than I remember. The buildings that were once boarded up and shut down were now a wide array of shops and cafe’s. Our first destination was Moon River, a local brewery in the heart of Savannah’s historic district. The beer there was excellent and (like New Orleans) it was legal to roam the streets and taste the beer as we drank in the late afternoon sunshine in the idiosyncratic tiny squares that make up the city. As we walked Matt talked about the history of the place and introduced us to Geocaching. I don’t know if you already know about this, but it is a GPS treasure hunt supported by a world wide geocaching community. It is very cool and I encourage all of you to try it out sometime. Jasper especially took to it, and I suspect he will be killing a lot of downtime this way throughout the tour.

Around dark we headed back to Matt and Corey’s place to get ready for the gig. The venue was to be at a guy named Brendan’s place. When we got there the party was already jumping in a most nerdtacular way. A big gang of dudes were playing some kind of high intensity video came while a spastic dog (who I now know to be named Boba Fett) jumped around hilariously in the yard. The show itself was pretty cool, and though we did it acoustic I think we made contact with our brothers in geekery.

After the show we watched the new batman (mystery science theatre style) and went to bed.

The next day began as sunny as the first, and I arose to Matt cooking up some eggs. The breakfast was amazing. Walking outside to get a little air I noticed that the rear passenger side tire was most certainly on its last legs; the woven steel belt sparkled like a cyborg freshly wounded. That being the case we spent most of the morning getting it fixed. It was a little nostalgic to me, talking to small shop mechanics who are friends of friends, running to the junk yard, getting mildly lost from mostly accurate directions, and small amounts of cash changing hands many times. After long though we got the whole thing taken care of, and, as we had time to kill, Matt took us Geocaching in the woods. It was pretty cool and Jasper left a copy of Rocket City up in a tree dwelling cache. After geocaching our next destination was to be Fort Pulaski. Out on the causeway heading to Tybee Island, Fort Pulaski was a key installment during the civil war. Designed by Robert E. Lee in his earlier years the fort was the most important guardian of the Savannah River and, by extension the port of Savannah. It was a particularly interesting place, and I recommend going there if you would like to know more. As for me I thoroughly enjoyed getting the chance to stand on the ramparts and feel the sea breeze as the rain drifted in from the east.

It was nearly time for us to be on the road so we left Fort Pulaski and took Matt back to his place and loaded up the car to go. We were expected for dinner in Milledgeville, and though it is fashionable to be late, it is rude to be too late.

The Altered States of America: Ewok village in the Trees

Tue, 18 Dec 2012 22:53:09 -0500

I don’t really think I should comment on this officially. Let it be known though that the Hostel in the Forest is just a place everyone should visit. It seems as though relating simply events, or even thoughts tied to those events would cheapen the experience in my mind, and therefore undermine the role this place plays in the maintenance of my sanity. I will say though that I would like to thank Alex for having us, all the staff that live in the forest, and Mark Garner (our other tour saint) for arranging it all, and all of the wonderful people we met there.

Tomorrow we are off to Savannah, and I am very excited to be back there again.

The Altered States of America: Jacksonville, southernmost city of the South

Tue, 18 Dec 2012 22:48:04 -0500

We left DeLand early. Bidding Bob farewell we headed for the coast and Daytona, our mission…airbrushing.

Daytona is sad in the winter, the empty streets lined with empty beach stores, worn out bikers filling empty hours waiting for summer to come and fill the air with sound. My plan for the day was to get a t-shirt with a scene of a dolphin jumping from a calm harbor, the silhouetted palm tree serene against a pink and orange sunset. Underneath I intended for it to read “Fuck Everything,” but my dreams were thwarted by the modest prices at the Airbrush Palace. Que sera sera. Jasper however, was successful in his airbrush acquisitions. I won’t spoil the surprise though, you’ll have to ask him if you want that story.

Soon enough it was time to take our leave of Daytona and head toward Jacksonville. The road was long and straight, the road flow broken only by signs for oranges and thirteen foot gators. As darkness began to set in we reached the sprawling metropolis to which we were headed. Jacksonville, I have come to understand, is one of the largest cities in the country…by land mass. We arrived in Jacksonville just about forty minutes before seeing anything that resembled a town. It took a minute to find the Burro Bar, but find it we did.

The Burro Bar is awesome. It is my favorite kind of mega dive, and I mean that in the most complementary way possible. It is an amalgam of my top three dives, arranged in a kind of terrace. When you first walk in (on the highest level) it is a normal drinking dive, a place well loved into artful disrepair. Walking through the arches to the second level it is a pool dive. Green tables dominating the floor space and lit mostly by hanging bar lights emblazoned with beer logos I can’t recall. The third and lowest level is that of the grungy music venue. The walls, bandaged by stickers and graffiti, seemed somehow tougher than the others creating an air that can only be described as “badassness.” All this was linked by a bar that stayed the same height across all of the tiers. Though the venue end of the bar was very like sitting at the kids table, I thought it was cool to have a legitimate excuse to rest my chin on the bar, as I drank some of the local Dukes Brown Ale.

We were unusually early, but the other musicians arrived before we’d been there too long. The first to show was Shana Falana, they had just come from Miami that day and I was excited to see them play. Next came Jimmi and Katy from the Memphibians. I met them in Philadelphia and we’ve been in contact since setting up this show and a few others. It was great to see them again, and we spent a little time chatting about Jacksonville and getting the rundown for the night. Shana Falana started out and they were really cool. A boyfriend/girlfriend indie two-piece they did a kind of shoegazy kind of trance rock that was I really enjoyed. Having played in a lot of duo-type bands I know it can be hard to get a full sound and an interesting stage show. Employing a really cool projector show, computer sequencer, drums, a looper and some cool guitar/voice effects they did just that. After they finished it was our turn. I was excited to play tonight, perhaps too excited, and overall I felt that my performance was hindered by an excess of cockiness. Everyone else seemed to think it was great, and we did sell some records, but I do felt that I (at least) would have done better had I curbed my ego a bit. There is an interesting balance of conceit and despair one must enculture to play rock and roll. I find that I feel best when I am fully confident in my abilities but a little scared of what might happen. It is a great feeling to be surprised that people liked it and more than a little relieved that your head didn’t explode the way that you thought it would.

The Memphibians were awesome. I guess the best way to describe their music is like the Pixies on an air-boat with a few dead alligators on board. It was very cool show to watch, and an excellent iteration of the continuum SS Boombox seems to operate in. There is a definite “Fuck You” quality about the Memphibians, but it is a more humbly confident one. It’s more of a “Fuck you, or not, whatever we’re gonna rock out anyway.” I really appreciate this because it is as earnest as it is unapologetic. This quality, a kind of sum of the awesome personalities exuded by the members, was palpable and magnetic onstage and I was honored to have opened for them.

After the show, Jimmi offered to let us stay at his place and we graciously accepted. Funny stories were told, that I will reserve for personal anecdotes, but I assure you it was very fun and we were very well taken care of.

Tomorrow we depart Jacksonville for the Hostel in the Forest, and I am particularly grateful for hospitality we were shown here. Thanks to Mellisande for taking care of at the bar, to Matt on sound, Shana for doing projections for us and rocking, Kevin, Andrew, Jimmi and Katy for putting on an amazing show and making us feel like part of the community of real musicians. I will never forget it…except in the case of serious head trauma or death.

Video

Tue, 18 Dec 2012 19:00:21 -0500

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Mon, 17 Dec 2012 19:00:25 -0500

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Sun, 16 Dec 2012 19:00:20 -0500

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Sat, 15 Dec 2012 19:00:38 -0500

The Altered States of America: DeLand before time

Fri, 14 Dec 2012 21:25:13 -0500

We left that morning before I actually achieved any degree of consciousness. I remember coffee and bidding Stuart and Julie farewell, but out side of that I don’t recall much before sighting a sign for Dinosaur World. It seems the universe, or at least Florida, is conspiring to rid me of my cash money. As we traveled on I-somethingorother I stared wistfully out the window as we passed Lego Land, an exit for Kennedy Space Center, and Fantasy of Flight. Alas, we had neither the time or the funds to spend on these type of pilgrimages, so onward we drove, gliding on the dull grey pavement particular to this part of Florida.

It was only a well stretched hours before we arrived in DeLand. It is a pretty little town close to, but out of sight of, the coast, and is home to Stetson University. Stetson, the center of hat research in America, is apparently deep in developing a type of headgear that will allow the wearer to both become invisible and provide a +2 bonus to strength. This makes sneak attacks far more plausible.

Being a fairly small town we reached Don’s dad’s place fairly quickly. His house is an interesting looking two storey home sided with stucco in the spanish-american style. It is a cool place, and, though close to town, is surrounded by greenery giving it the feeling of remoteness. The temperature had dropped substantially that day and I was refreshed both by the coolness of the wet air, and the variety of green growing things that pervaded my vision. Don’s Dad Bob greeted us and introduced himself at the door. After showing us around the house, Bob offered to take us on a tour of the town. It was a nice ride and I enjoyed rolling around in the Jeep and seeing the sights.

After acquiring some crab rangoon, we returned to Chez Schlotman to do some picking. Bob has got some really cool guitars and is a great player and songwriter so we hung out and traded songs until Don’s brother Rob arrived. Walking in the middle of a new tune we (somewhat miraculously) played pretty well, he complimented us all and introduced himself. When our return introductions were over and some family reunion-like ribbing was done we all headed downtown to get something to eat. Our first destination, a place called Tony’s, was packed and so we stopped into the Blind Pig next door to meet the owner (also named Tony). He was a really nice guy and apologized for our Thursday gig falling through. It was cool though and hopefully we can do that gig next time we’re in town. Wandering around downtown we happened upon a somewhat upscale looking Mexican restaurant. Bob highly recommended it so we went in. I hate that I can’t remember the name because the place was absolutely fantastic. I say this even though the waitress seemed not to like me much. I had some kind of taco filled with plantain and covered in mole sauce, and flan for dessert. It wa really really good, and I know that if I am in DeLand again I will make a point of eating there.

Following dinner we proceeded to a cool bar called DaVinci’s. A side business of a antique restoration company, DaVinci’s was packed with cool stuff. From the artwork on the walls, to the doors, to the moulding the place was packed with interesting bric-a-brac inside and out in the massive courtyard. They have live music here as well and have pretty big stages both inside and out. DaVinci’s also has a great beer selection, that (thanks to Rob) I was able to enjoy. Perhaps we will angle for this place next time we’re in town.

Before long we left the bar and headed back to play a bit more. This time we had a bit of an audience and we played a few numbers for, Rob, Bob’s girlfriend Sandy and one of Bob’s friends Bruce. They really seemed to enjoy it a great deal and we whiled away the rest of the evening playing trading tunes again.

Tomorrow we are headed to Jacksonville to play with the Memphibians and I am incredibly excited about that.