Dear Diary –
It’s Gio again.
It’s Saturday, April 29th, and – yeah, you guessed it. It’s still snowing.
What gives, Colorado?
Yesterday we got to Boulder in the early afternoon and had ourselves a very lovely time playing music for beer lovers at the Boulder Theater. Everything was going so well – I got a nap in, found some delicious espresso from a local establishment. I even thought my revenge on Phil for his dastardly coffee-tossing-out had been exacted, and I could turn the page towards more sunny, hopeful and friendly days.
Not so, Tour Diary! Not so!
It turns out that the pretzels I threw out were not, in fact, Phil’s. They were Alex’s. And he had been fasting all day, with the hopeful security of his pretzels awaiting him to provide the sustenance he’d need for the show that night.
Imagine his groggy fury at their loss. Then imagine it again, but with more swear words, and throwing things. That’s closer to what happened.
Sadly (or not? Depends on how you view these kinds of things, tour diary) the only thing that was in ready supply at the theater was craft beer. The strong kind. Alex’s fury quickly turned to somewhat sloppy bonhomie after a few well-placed pints.
The set was delightfully hard to remember. I believe we played music? Hard to tell, tour diary. We could turn to those in attendance for a report of the evening, but I don’t think they will remember any more clearly. This is to be expected for a beer fest, yes?
That night – and for the nights to follow our good friend Annabel has offered to put us all up in her amazing home. There is a drum set here, electric instruments, a Rhodes… Everything we need to record our rock record. Dreams can really come true, tour diary!!
We poured ourselves into beds last night, and got good rest – well, all except poor Henry, (our tour manager for this run).
Drunkenly mistaking Henry’s bed for mine, Alex – in a rare show of mean vengeance – dumped a heaping shovel-full of snow on Henry’s peacefully slumbering head.
We all awoke to the scuffle/wrestling match/weeping that followed.
Tempers have finally settled… but the tension around the lunch table was thick today, once we had all woken and assembled. Trust is running a bit low, and us only 4 days into the tour.
We play Denver tonight. Alex, Phil and I are all constantly looking over our shoulders. Henry still smolders with sleepy, rage-ful injustice.
I’m sure this will all be cleared up soon, tour diary.
Dear Tour Diary –
It’s Gio again.
We’re on tour… again.
It’s late April, bordering on May. According to my calendar, Spring was due to have sprung over a month ago. Wyoming did not get the message. Instead, it snowed all over us on our savagely long drive from Reno, Nevada en route to Denver, Colorado. Nothing to cap off a 15 hour drive day like heavy snows and low visibility.
But I’m starting from now, and you don’t even know about the last two days yet! Sorry, tour diary. I’ll start at the beginning.
The tour started in Reno. We’ve driven through Reno on every tour that has taken us East on the 80… which, over the last 8 years, has been a lot of tours. This was our FIRST time playing Reno. And we even wrote a whole song about the dang place. Can you believe it?? Well… the people of Reno came out in wild and rowdy droves to the show, and we – collectively as a band – fell in love. We’ll have to go back soon. It was a damn fun show.
The drive the next day was less fun. Did I already mention that? I did? Sorry, tour diary.
What I DIDN’T mention yet was the travesty that occurred on our drive. You know me, tour diary. I looooove espresso. We stopped at a great spot – the Hub – in Reno. I ordered 2 drinks – one to have immediately, and the other to keep in reserve for the espresso-scarce wasteland that is I-80 through Nevada. The weather was cold, I didn’t need any refrigeration… and thanks to my sweet planning, my delicious espresso awaited me, as far as I knew, for the long road ahead.
Imagine how much I cried, oh dearest diary, when Phil (totally without asking me!!) threw out my coffee at a road stop! Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much someone holds you and rocks you back and forth, apologizing. Sometimes it just isn’t enough.
We made a coffee stop eventually…. but it was shitty. Note to self: never trust Phil with your coffee. Remember that, tour diary!!
We woke up early today after our epic drive to get back on the snowy and icy roads. Didn’t we leave the curse of the Frostbite Tour behind us? Were the savage gods of ice and snow not satisfied with our sacrifice and pain last tour? Apparently not.
Luckily the weather broke by Laramie, and now we’re cruising into Denver to play a craft beer party. Chances of us having a coherent, not-sloppy-drunk set are diminishing. The conditions are kind of perfect:
Did we have a super shitty drive all day yesterday from which we need therapeutic succor?
Did we have another thirst-inducing drive today through yet more snow and ice that demands yet more liquid stress-relief and muscle relaxation?
Will we get free craft beer for the entire time we’re at the venue (5-7 hours)?
Luckily, if you’re at a free-craft-brew party, tour diary, you’re likely to be way more drunk than us. We’re banking on that.
We’re approaching Boulder, thank coffee. There’s great espresso in this town. The last two days have been full of (I’m ashamed to write it) Starbucks… and one stop was just laughably dark-hued water. Rawlings and the little shop, Huckleberry’s, had good espresso. That is the only reason, diary, I’m able to even form complete sentences right now.
Well, I should go. Phil is asleep, and I think I saw a bag of his pretzels that I can’t wait to throw away.
Talk to you soon.
We have neglected a lot of states. Many a wonderful town full of beautiful, wonderful, music-loving souls we have forsaken in recent years. My pin-map of our tour spots has a gaping, sad hole in the middle-ish area of the country.
We remedy this starting next week!
Check out them tour dates, folks!
Can’t wait to see you and have you tell me the best place to get deep, dark, roasty, toasty espresso in your town.
See you soon!
Do you find yourself, of a summer afternoon, thinking to yourself that what you’d really like to do is be on my Kickball team, defending a two-time championship against the forces of darkness and evil… and to celebrate with an evening full of great music and beers, and then to sing and dance and make merry into the wee wee hours of the morning? For 2 or 3 days straight?
Come to Comatopia! Our festival is turning 3 this year. We’re all going to head out to Bandit Town to set up our little world of porch-picking and super chill vibes, with tons of music from our most favorite musical friends.
Our tickets are on sale now. The lineup isn’t announced yet… but that is but an afterthought. Come for the hang… and the pie? (Bring pie.) and the awesome people you’re sure to find there, and the glorious music that will assuredly be made.
See you there.