2024 European Tour Journal: Day 13/14

Flying Has Got to Be One of the Circles of Dante’s Inferno (Musicians Beware PLAY Airlines)

Sometimes touring is like a shit sandwich, but with the shit on the outside and the good stuff in the middle. The shit on the outside usually involves flying.

DAY 13: We left ourselves one extra day to drop the car off and then explore Amsterdam proper a bit, but we were almost too tired to do much of anything. The hotel we had booked for tonight just gave off a dirty, bad vibe when we arrived, so we cancelled that reservation and hastily looked around for another one, drove the car there to drop the bags off, then dropped the car back off at the airport. The hotel thing was a total hassle, and took up the entire morning and half the afternoon. Went to check in for our flight and the airline’s website is now showing error messages when it comes to baggage allowance. Not sure what to do about that, other than check again later. It’s a newer, budget carrier (PLAY out of Stewart Airport), which might be great for someone packing a backpack for an overnight in Reykjavik, but isn’t that great for people who travel with actual luggage, like musicians. Not having to drive 2 hours and park at Newark or JFK was definitely handy, but what you can gain with one hand you lose with the other. Later on the site showed the correct baggage, and we paid extra to check another bag (mostly because of the wine we got in France), so I thought we were fine there. Stopped worrying about that, and took the hotel shuttle to the airport/train station where we caught a train to Amsterdam, wandered around a bunch in the rain, and then found an incredible wine bar that was recommended to us by the guys we met in Arbois. They were right - it was one of the best meals I’d had all trip, which was saying something. Got back to the hotel, took a shower, did some packing, and collapsed into bed.

DAY 14: In the morning, we left plenty of time to get to the airport, which turned out to be a good thing, since even after paying for extra checked luggage (AND paying for carry on luggage (which is different than “personal items”) AND priority boarding to ensure space in the overhead compartments, a traveling musician’s nightmare still awaited me at check in: they denied allowing the fiddle into the cabin, and tried to force me to check it, because it was not the exact rectangular size they allow. Never mind that I had paid for it as a carry on, or that I had paid for priority boarding, or that the cubic inches of the case were likely far LESS than many of the other suitcases they were allowing on, or that it fits easily into the overhead compartment of an Airbus A320, OR that on BOTH identical flights over, the crews at both Stewart and Reykjavik allowed it on with absolutely no problem. At Schipol they were not having it, and said my only recourse was to either check it with regular baggage or buy an extra seat for it. (If I could afford to buy it an extra seat, I wouldn’t be flying on a budget carrier!) It took 20 extra minutes of reasoning, pleading, tears, and phone calls to superiors before they finally asked the CAPTAIN OF THE PLANE whether it was OK, and he said it was no problem, tagged the case himself, and told me to have a good flight. So I got on the plane with the fiddle, and then almost started crying again from relief. For this reason alone, I can’t fly PLAY again with an instrument. Maybe if I take a quick trip to Iceland with just a duffel bag or something, I’d fly with them again, but since there’s absolutely no guarantee I would be allowed onboard with my instrument, it’s a chance I can’t take. Even if the tools of my livelihood weren’t at stake by this sort of thing, the added stress to an already hard travel situation is just not something I can live with anymore. My mental health deserves better, if nothing else.

I’ve heard similar complaints from other musicians about Aer Lingus, Air Canada, and a couple other international carriers, so allow me to add PLAY to that list: Musicians Beware. The baggage policy is a scary combination of very strict in terms of size and weight, and also wildly inconsistent (other passengers on our flight also said similar things, about the exact same suitcase being allowed in one place and denied in others.) US carriers have legal agreements in place with the TSA (brokered by the musicians’ union) that state that musical instruments are required to be allowed in the cabin if there is room in the overhead bins at the time of boarding. (This is why I usually pay extra for priority boarding.) But foreign carriers are not bound by these regulations, so there’s very little recourse if something like this happens. The crew finally softened to my plight, with the assistance of the captain, so all was well, but I’m very glad I remembered I have extra wine at home so I don’t have to open the stuff I got in France tonight. Home to a lot of jet lag, a lot of laundry, and a lot of catching up on things I might have missed while I was gone. I’ll be posting more bits and bobs from this tour, but this is the official end of the journal. Hope you’ve enjoyed coming along with us - even if it was a day or so late!

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 12

The Gig That Actually Brought Us Back Over Here

We were originally scheduled to play at Roots aan de Zaan in June 2020. 5-6 reschedules and 4 years later, we finally played the gig. It was our last COVID-era reschedule, and we had a running joke with promoter Koen Hottentot that instead of making t-shirts with all the tour dates on it (like some bands who are on the “never-ending tour”), we should make t-shirts with all the dates we booked, canceled, and rescheduled, and call it the “never-beginning tour”. Koen has his own incredibly intense COVID story, which he has written about in Dutch (not sure about an English translation) - he caught it fairly early on and it involved being in a coma for some time. Now he is back to health, traveling a whole bunch, hosting and promoting concerts again, and starting a record label. It was good for many reasons to be back and to see him again, and also fantastic to have some of Renate’s famous chicken peanut soup before the show. (I’ve got to remember to ask for that recipe.) Other Roots aan de Zaan stalwarts Dick and Edvard were back as well, so we had a lovely reunion. The show was at a venue called FLUXUS, which is a music school with a nice little theater in the city of Zaandam, just outside Amsterdam. The audience was very engaged in the songs (Dutch audiences can seem almost shockingly attentive to those used to playing for rowdier - or ruder - American audiences), and fortunately for us, they liked to buy CDs too. So we ended our tour with two very good nights playing for intense listening audiences, and got to reunite with some old friends after the previous evening where we made new ones. One of the best parts of this tour business is the connections you make and the people you meet. Nice to finish off on that note, and to play this gig, which finally brought some closure to our pandemic-upended tour schedule. After 4 roller coaster years, we’re finally able to bring things full circle and say we’ve played all the gigs we had booked. And it was very satisfying to have done it with a lovely gig like this one. Now to say a goodbye to our friends in Europe, and head on home to see what the future back in the States looks like.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 11

Playing Music Again in Dutch Farm Country

As incredible as France’s Jura region was, it felt good to be back playing music again, especially in a place that’s a renovated old barn with a thatched roof! The sound was really interesting - warm but not as “live” as solid wood usually is. The show was sold out, and the people were incredible, from the hospitality of retired-dairy-farmers-turned-concert-hosts Henk and Anna, to the audience who showed up for the music, the social hang, and for the 8 different kinds of beer that Henk brews. We did three sets because people like to visit with each other and drink beer - but they are incredibly quiet during the music. I try not to drink much beer while I’m singing because the carbonation tends to want to announce itself in the middle of phrases, something I was reminded of in Bavaria! So I had to wait until the end of the show to try one of Henk’s fantastic dark brews. He produces both light and dark beers, which he sells at the shows as well as to local grocery stores. I’m definitely more of a wine person than a beer one (as you’ve no doubt figured out by now!) but a glimpse of his brewing setup was incredibly impressive. We talked farming when we weren’t talking music. Henk and Anna farmed about 125 cows, which they sold in 2010 and started a second life as concert hosts/brewers. They still look and talk like farmers, but they say they’re relieved they got out when they did. There was a pressure to increase production and profit (which sounds eerily similar to what’s happening in the States), and they didn’t want to farm that way. Now apparently the Dutch government is also imposing strict regulations on farms (mostly to do with pollution - a fair point since cows aren’t the most eco-friendly animals to have around), but farms are struggling to adapt and still stay in business. Holland has a lot more limited space than we do, so it’s a struggle to balance the needs of farmers with neighboring residents. Our next night’s lodging host also said something similar. She herself is a former farmer, who sold the cows when she got divorced, and now runs a B&B. She was saying the community is getting further and further disconnected from where their food comes from (“the kids don’t think the milk comes from a cow, they think it comes from a grocery store”), which is a definite direct parallel to the situation at home too. Also the weather has been so wet lately that the farmers are struggling to get out into the fields to get the manure on it. (Doesn’t matter the continent, no one likes mud season.) Anyway, getting back to our concert, we were delighted with the Henk and Anna’s company, the music, the beer, and the lovely folks we met at the concert. It was a good night to be back playing.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 10

“Six (Hours) On the Road And We’re Not Gonna Make It Anywhere (Fancy) Tonight”

Nothing like murdering a classic truck driving country song title all for a bad pun. Party’s Over, at least according to my brain at 5 am. Woke up in a cold sweat remembering a bunch of emails I forgot to send, tour planning for upcoming dates that I need to catch up on, and social media posts I haven’t done in days. Also not looking forward to getting back in the car for another 6 hours, wondering/worrying how things are back home, and really, just plain tired. Questioning the sanity of mixing business with pleasure in this way. This happens every tour, and a lot of the time at home too. Most of the time it seems worth it. Some days it’s just hard. I’m trying to get some stuff done before leaving the lovely hotel here in Arbois (it doesn’t help that I like this town so much I don’t want to leave!) and I’m having to do things twice to fix typos and correct mistakes my sad, under caffeinated brain is making…

… 6 hours later, we’re in a little hotel room that basically resembles a Microtel next to a truck wash by the highway. It’s tiny and basic and clean, and a totally unromantic letdown from the beautiful setting of the last couple of days. We’re definitely back to work now. Some of the restaurants in the town nearby don’t open until 6 or 7 pm, this being Europe after all, so I’m trying to use the time to wade through videos I’ve been taking of some of our shows, to chop them up and make some “Content” to post on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, Facebook etc. Artists today are required to contribute to the regular feeding of the Content Monster, so I’m trying to play along so the interwebs will keep making my stuff pop up on peoples’ feeds so I don’t disappear into the digital ether. I HATE this kind of work. It drives me insane, but it’s the world we live in. I hate that it’s even defining the world we live in when it comes to creativity. I’ve read that the rise of TikTok/short form videos/social media, along with the decrease in attention spans are influencing the kind of songs that are being written now - because videos of 1 minute and under are all the rage, people aren’t writing long songs anymore. (Good luck with that happening here, ha ha.) At any rate it’s definitely not improving my mood any today.

I’ve been asking our remaining two shows how things like CD sales are there. It seems to depend on region. In Bavaria, we did sell some CDs, while in Switzerland we didn’t sell any. Like in the US, a lot of people just don’t have the means to play them anymore. Much has been written about this and what it means for touring musicians, but the reality for us here is that CD sales used to be very helpful when it came to subsidizing things like tanks of petrol, tolls, and meals. Nowadays, you can’t count on that anymore. And unless you’re already a successful artist, streaming royalties are barely going to be able to buy you a cup of coffee, much less help with the gas and tolls. This applies worldwide. And it’s a really rough reality for blue collar, touring musicians like us with fairly thin margins. Hopefully some folks in the Netherlands will buy some CDs. Not only will it help offset the travel costs, but I don’t want to have to bring a bunch home, contributing to potential baggage fees.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 9

Forget George Washington, Louis Pasteur slept here!

Yeah, I know, here I go picking on George Washington again. Arbois was just too magical to leave, so we stayed another day. If there is an overarching theme of this region, it might just be on the microbial level. Not only is so much of the wine and cheese making here dependent on the unique microbes that live in this area, but huge landmarks in scientific advancement are inexorably tied to the area. Louis Pasteur lived and ran his experiments right here in Arbois, first working to cure “diseases of wine”, then creating the anthrax and rabies vaccines, while also discovering that eliminating microbes in wine and food via heating can lead to less spoilage (aka pasteurization), as well as pioneering new techniques of sanitation in the medical field that led to less secondary infection and risk of death on the operating table (before this time, physicians were not in the habit of sanitizing their tools or hands!) My science nerd self enjoyed the walk around Pasteur’s old haunts, but was then distracted by the wine nerd self who realized that even the cathedrals have murals and stained glass dedicated to the grape, and the town is chock a block of medieval buildings dating to the 13th century, with what seemed like every other shop dedicated to wine tasting rooms or to selling cheese. I have now acquired some new treasures to bring back home (I wish they let me bring the cheese or saucisse back on the plane, but to no avail, so I’ll just have to eat them here), and it’s time to get back to work. Almost, almost caught up on emails and tour journal stuff, and tomorrow we’ll start heading north again in the direction of the Netherlands and our last two shows here in Europe.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 8

Where My Inner Wine Snob Meets Her Match

My inner wine geek got a freaking workout today. Since we had another day off en route to our final set of shows, we decided to swing by the Jura region of France - a smaller region in the eastern part of the country, just across the border from Switzerland, known for comté cheeses and incredible, very unique wines. On a whim I emailed Domaine Stéphane et Bénédicte Tissot (I used to sell some of Stéphane’s wines at the shop I worked at in Beacon) to see if there was any chance of a visit. Turned out there was: and the visit was the deepest dive of an industry tasting I’ve ever experienced. Seated at the table along with us was a Who’s Who crowd of wine professionals, including a well known NY natural wine writer, a natural wine maker from the republic of Georgia, and the former sommelier of Noma (the restaurant in Copenhagen voted Best in the World 4 times running.) No sooner had I formed the thought “holy crap, what the hell am I doing here?”, than Stéphane started talking, showing us the cellars, and opening bottles. Talking wine with biodynamic vigneron Stéphane Tissot is like opening a fire hydrant of information - you just stand out of the way and absorb as much as you can as fast as you can. His father, André Tissot, started the domaine in 1962 on the family dairy farm, and they’ve been among the earliest proponents and producers of biodynamic wines in the Jura. Stéphane has well deserved rockstar status among fellow producers, wine critics, and oenophiles, but it’s quickly apparent that the reason for this stems from his deep commitment to his land and his vines and his passion for it as a whole. (For a quick rundown on what exactly biodynamic viticulture entails, check out this guide: https://winefolly.com/deep-dive/biodynamic-wine-guide/) Over the course of three hours, we opened a slew of bottles, well over three dozen, and that’s not counting the barrel samples Stéphane pulled right out in the cellars for us to taste. I lost track somewhere around the eleven-hundredth chardonnay (OK, MAYBE I’m exaggerating!) but it was the hardest of the hard core, deepest dive into wine nerd nirvana (nerdvana?) I’d ever seen. We talked about dirt a lot. I mean A LOT. Having worked in wine, it was a mind-blowing, one of a kind experience, and a delicious, profound honor. It was also poor Greg’s first professional tasting. I feel like I should get him a t-shirt that says “I survived my first industry tasting.” If I go much more into the wines of the region themselves, this blog will become very very long, and also no longer a tour journal, so I won’t. But if you’re interested, look up “wines of Jura”, particularly the magic they do with the savagnin grape (cousin to gewürztraminer), which includes oxidative, sherry like styles, and the region’s most famous wine, Vin Jaune. They even have a festival in February to celebrate Vin Jaune. (We arrived too late. We are very sad about this.)

These are incredible moments, the kind of road magic we all live for. But lest I think I’m actually on vacation, once the high level wine tasting is over, and we’ve stumbled back to the hotel after a delicious locally sourced dinner at a nearby bistro, I open my computer and realize there are a bunch of emails to catch up on, tour journal postings to write, and even though this hotel has the bathtub of my dreams - so big I could do a couple laps - there’s still stuff to do and it’s too late to take a bath. The wine was more than worth it, though. Here’s Stéphane’s website: http://www.stephane-tissot.com/

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 7

Dairy Farming 10 Minutes Away From the Financial Capital of the World

We’ve known our friends Rolf and Edith for many years now, since we started touring Switzerland with Jeff Wilkinson. (If you don’t know Jeff’s music, here’s your chance: http://www.jeffwilkinsonmusic.com/) Rolf is an incredible graphic designer and an award winning animator. His most recent animation ‘Bolero Station’ is one I guarantee will make you smile! http://www.bolerostation.ch/ He and Jeff actually met back at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design), and even though Rolf is now technically retired, he still has a ton of graphic design work, plus government grants for his next animation, so he is incredibly busy. Edith is a music teacher, who not only teaches keyboards and accordion to students several classes a day, but also happens to be training for the London Marathon in April. So while I’m typing this and eating cheese and drinking wine, Edith is out on a 14k training run, after teaching all day, making us feel lazy again. Before I tell you where I got the cheese… I should mention that we had a delightful afternoon wandering around the city of Bremgarten, which dates back at least to the 1500s. (As an aside, the city of Dietikon, where Rolf and Edith live, is one of only two Swiss cities engraved on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, since it is the site where Napoleon defeated the Russians. Napoleon is responsible for the canton (state) system of Switzerland.) I’ll put some lovely pictures of Bremgarten in here, but it was great to just walk around and see some beautiful, very old buildings, and enjoy the history of the town, even if most of the shops were closed on a Monday. On our way to Bremgarten we stopped at a Landi- a Swiss chain of farm store/garden centers. It was a lot like Tractor Supply, but with a big garden center, a housewares department, and an entire section where you could buy wine and beer! I loved it, and wandered around looking at things, while people stared at me. Speaking of farm stuff… just up the street from Rolf and Edith, about 10 min outside of Zurich by car or train, is an organic dairy farm run by Farmer Fabian. Farmer Fabian has a herd of 25 Brown Swiss cows, and sells organic milk, cheese, and yogurt directly to the community via a 24 HOUR MILK AND CHEESE DISPENSING MACHINE. I made a video of this and plan on posting it soon, because it’s hard to explain in words, even though it’s EXACTLY like it seems: you walk up to a vending machine on the side of the barn, put in your money, and pick the door with your cheese behind it, take the cheese, then the machine gives you change. Same for the milk, although you have to bring your own bottle. You put the bottle under the spout, put the money in, the machine puts fresh milk in your bottle, gives you change, and you take the milk home for breakfast, or dinner, or whatever. WHY CAN’T WE HAVE NICE THINGS LIKE THIS AT HOME?!?!

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 5/6

Small Town Saturday Night

Yep, that was a Hal Ketchum reference (who was actually from upstate NY - look it up.) You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the ‘90s country out of the girl. We played a lovely house concert in the town of Löhningen, just outside of Schaffhausen. Our hosts, Mitch and Claudia, were so welcoming, it nearly bowled us over. House concerts can be the under-the-radar gems that are so very appreciated, especially in the middle of a tour: a chance to play to a living room full of enthusiastic people, plus a place to stay and a home cooked meal. Delightful. Plus it turns out that Mitch and I are fans of the same American singer-songwriters: James McMurtry, BJ Barham, Rodney Crowell… so we had fun just being music fans ourselves. We also got to see our friends Simone and Tom from Schaffhausen. Tom used to run the coolest, vibiest club in town, the unbelievably funky Dolder 2. Sadly, that venue closed a few years ago, but Tom and Simone helped connect us with Mitch and Claudia, which led to a wonderful evening in a new place with new friends. Another example of the great connections that sometimes happen in the music community. After breakfast the next morning with Claudia and Mitch, we headed to stay with our friends in the suburbs of Zurich, but first we actually had time to be tourists, so a quick stop at the Rheinfalls was in order. Unfortunately it was raining, so we didn’t stay long, but we did get to see continental Europe’s version of Niagara Falls (on a bit of a smaller scale, but stunning nonetheless). Then after more driving and a bit of a nap in the car, we made it to Zurich by dinnertime, and spent the evening catching up with Rolf and Edith. Monday will be our first actual day off in one place since we started this tour.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 4

It Takes a Community… Local and Global

Nothing like a 6 hour drive that turns into a nearly 8 hour one to make you realize you are definitely NOT on vacation… Traffic in Germany and Switzerland can be a bear. Even countries with beautifully maintained roads and plentiful, efficient public transit options still have too many cars. We abandoned the autobahn for the backroads through small towns pretty early on, which was also a pretty slow route, but at least it was pretty. We were sad to leave Bavaria, with its rolling countryside and big farms, which remind me a lot of home, albeit with less rocky soil. After crossing the border from Germany into Switzerland, we finally rolled into Bern, one of our favorite Swiss cities, and to Lo Snag Bar, a bar/coffeehouse/guitar shop/studio/performance space/community space, where owner Alec also has a successful business making professional hockey masks. As New Yorkers, we like to think we know a thing or two about hustling, multitasking, and getting a lot done, but Alec and his wife Pam make us look positively lazy. I’ve listed Alec’s ventures, but Pam is also a well regarded naturopathic doctor, who works in the local hospital, a second separate clinic, as well as her own practice, runs the Lo Snag Bar along with Alec, all while they raise three kids together, and still finds time to ride her horse an hour each day. Maybe the Swiss, expert clock makers that they are, have figured out a way to actually put more hours into the day? Either way, the vibe is super cool, the people are really enthusiastic, and it feels good to be there. When the shop is not hosting concerts, making hockey masks, or selling guitars, they open their doors to offer coffee (often at low or no cost) to the local community, especially those who are underserved, lower income, or struggling to access community resources. Social workers also come by to help people figure out how to access programs, and generally improve their situation in life. It’s a wonderful reminder of human positivity and support for one another, and something that felt really good to remember still exists, given the current political situation at home and the humanitarian situation worldwide. Needless to say, we enjoyed playing this space a lot. We owe a special shout out to our friend Mark Stenzler, an American ex-pat-turned-Swiss-citizen who runs the Blues Zeppelin radio show on RaBe (Radio Bern) and is a real supporter of original music and a catalyst for connecting musicians with venues, opportunities, and each other. Mark is also a Cornell alum (physics department) who moved to Switzerland to work at CERN. Among his other accomplishments, he has his name on a paper which won a Nobel Prize. (Maybe that’s like the brainiac equivalent of playing on an album that won a Grammy?) Now his Blues Zeppelin radio show has won awards from Canada to Memphis for its support of original music. Go Big Red.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 3

Forget George Washington, MOZART slept here!

Yup, Mozart slept here. And quite frequently. The Zur Post building in the center of Obing dates back to 1428, but was rebuilt in 1862 after a blacksmith’s fire burned the whole town down. They chose to rebuild the post rather than the castle, deeming it more useful and practical, and so used the stones from the castle to do so. John and Rita Gonzalves have been running the place since 1996, and it’s as old school as you could imagine. John is another giant of a man, with a long beard and booming voice, and so quintessentially Bavarian that his picture has been featured in tourism guides. Except… John is actually from San Francisco, and moved to Germany in the ‘80s. Rita is the Bavarian native, and the quiet powerhouse who runs the show tirelessly behind, alongside, and in front of the scenes. We played in the bar, and the crowd that came out seemed to really enjoy the songs, the beer, and my stories of my love for driving my Volkswagen back home. (I had a hard time explaining the concept of potholes, though.) More fantastically drinkable Bavarian beer: I think what I like best about the beer is that the focus is on balance and drinkability. It feels like so many craft breweries back home are trying so hard to be different or new or exciting that they overdo the flavors to the extreme, whether it’s eye popping IPAs or fruity, floral sours that smell like I could either drink them or wear them as perfume. Beer here is meant to have character, yet be easily drunk, be substantial enough to be enjoyed sip after sip, but also paired just as easily with food - which was currywurst and fries. (This was a tasty, brilliant idea, until I tried to sing 10 minutes later.) The evening was warm and informal, and seemed fun for everyone - we even made one guy late for his third shift work! (Sorry Andy! We’re glad Inge said she called your boss!) Obing is timeless in so many ways that even after coming here for many years, it just feels like a homecoming of sorts every time we’re back. But even in timeless towns, things change. For 1300 years the road used to run right through the center of town, but 3 years ago the government put another road in that goes around it, and businesses have been struggling ever since.

2024 European Tour Journal: Day 2

Some assembly required, batteries not included…

Jet lag+delayed coffee has left my brain feeling like an unassembled IKEA bookshelf that’s missing the correct allen wrench to put it all together. The rest stops on the autobahn are pretty nice, especially compared to rest stops back home - there’s decent enough coffee (yay!), and free Wi-fi. Spent a few extra minutes catching up on emails, and trying to work on my tour journal. Only two days in and I’m already falling behind. One thing that’s refreshingly nice is the condition of the roads. There might be a couple patches or seams here or there from repairs, but by and large, the condition of the autobahn is damn near perfect. NO. POTHOLES. (How can they manage to do this here, while back home we somehow end up with moon craters you could literally lose a car in?) Also, people are generally very good drivers - and they obey the rules of the road. The penalties are very high if you don’t. This takes on new importance when the speed limit is around 80-85 mph in most sections, while some sections of road still have no posted speed limits at all, meaning cars in the passing lane routinely go over 100 mph. Another fine point: the passing lane is for passing only. As soon as you are done passing, you move over to the right again. (And you do it quickly, lest a BMW or Audi come up on your rear out of nowhere at 100+ mph.) If someone flashes their headlights at you, it means move over - but this is rare, since most people move over quickly anyway. This is something we have apparently forgotten how to do at home. There is no weaving in and out of traffic, no passing on the right, no tailgating (your license can be suspended for tailgating!) Driving habits (weaving in and out, tailgating, road rage etc) seem to have gotten far, far worse in the last few years at home compared to over here. Being on the autobahn makes me pine for my beloved VW. We have a perfectly good little Renault rental car, but I’m still missing my little Jetta - she would be such a delight on roads this good, and after 307,000 mi (that’s nearly half a million kilometers!) she deserves some nice driving conditions too. Sadly, I can’t bring her over.

The First Gig: Illertal Cowboys - a bluegrass club in Vöhringen, D. This place reminds me of so many places back home that hosted the bluegrass jams and concerts I grew up going to. It could have been an Elks Lodge somewhere in the Adirondacks, albeit one with better beer. Illertal Cowboys president Herbert Schildhammer is a large man who likes to tell large tales. How large? If casting for Harry Potter had come to Bavaria, he would have been a shoo-in for Hagrid. He makes sure that it’s a real listening audience (he has thrown people out for talking during shows!) and the people that came were so appreciative and lovely. I wish we could take Herbert on the road with us - we’d never have to worry about rude audience members ever again. This show took a good bit of warming up, and almost the entire first set for the stiffness to finally start to wear off and the music to feel comfortable to play, but we enjoyed playing for such wonderful folks. Touring, especially this kind of travel, makes your body tired in ways you don’t even think would happen (WHY are my FEET tired when I’ve been sitting so long?!?) It was a good way to kick things off though, and we definitely enjoyed ourselves, as well as our first Bavarian beers. More tour, more beers, more thoughts to come…

2024 European Tour Journal, Day 1

The hotel bathroom had tiles that depicted the NYC and Paris subway maps.

It was weird to put your bags down on a Tuesday night in a quiet town on the Rhein, go to use the toilet and come face to face with a (somewhat outdated) map of NYC. But then again, after nearly 24 hours of travel (house to airport, two planes, a stop in Iceland, then 5 hours in the car after landing in Amsterdam), things start to get pretty surreal feeling anyway. That’s part of the reason why we do this travel thing - to break out of the everyday routine, to experience things that are just-different-enough-to-be-interesting, to make sure the world hasn’t gotten too small and tight fitting when we weren’t looking. I think that’s why many of us travel, for recreation or for work. But unlike traveling as a tourist, for vacation, this type of travel, touring as a working musician, is different in quite a few not so significant ways. One main difference is that we’re actually trying to earn a bit of a living, so we’re doing everything on a budget. Everything extra we spend is less we take home (since we’re not on vacation, we don’t get vacation pay, so if we want to pay our bills when we get home, it’s in our best interest to be sensible.) There are some things that it would be amazing to do that we don’t have the time for, as we’re either traveling, or performing, and every day off is a day we’re losing money, not making it. So there’s less time for sightseeing than you’d imagine, and we can’t really leave the car unattended for long since all our gear is in it, and we rarely stay more than one night in the same place. It’s awkward having all the instruments and luggage with you at all times. Also, many places are not equipped with elevators, so we get to lug all the gear up and down several flights of narrow stairs many, many times. I guess that counts as a workout? The emails and social media demands don’t stop either just because you change time zones, so you have to carve out time to keep up to date on those or risk losing gigs down the road once you get home.

Don’t get me wrong, there are A LOT of AMAZING things that happen on the road - part of what keeps us coming back to it again and again. But it beats you up pretty good sometimes too. It felt good after such a long travel ordeal to finally be able to unload the car, take a quick walk along the Rhine, and watch the boats - among them a tourist river cruise, a garbage barge, and a giant barge loaded with at least 20 brand new John Deere tractors. The swans were lovely but quickly grew bored and disillusioned with us when we didn’t give them any treats. The hotel restaurant turned out to be well known for its wine list as well as food, so we availed ourselves of a lovely flammekuchen and a glass of incredible local riesling. When in German wine country, after all… Tomorrow the tour part actually starts, so bedtime!

Eating My Way West

One of the things I look forward to the most when on the road is the opportunity for culinary adventures along the way. Our last trip out west was no exception, and we enjoyed revisiting some old favorite haunts, as well as discovering a bunch of new favorites we came upon by recommendation and/or accident, and can't wait to go back to.

*(Coffee also plays a major role in tour life, but the coffee shop list deserves a more extensive post of its own, so this entry will remain focused on restaurants, and more specifically, the ones we loved on our most recent tour.)*

Here's a list of a half dozen of my personal culinary highlights in UT, NV, and southern CA (roughly in the chronological order we ate at them, based on our tour routing):

THE RED IGUANA, SALT LAKE CITY, UT

If a touring musician tells you to eat at a certain place when you're in that city, do it. If more than one touring musician tells you that, DEFINITELY do it. This place was so awesome we ate there twice: once when we arrived, and the evening before we flew home. They are famous for their molé - there were more than 10 available on the menu, plus a whole slew of other amazing Mexican dishes. I had both the green molé (using zucchini and pumpkin seeds) and the more classic dark brown chocolate-based one, and hot damn, they were both mind blowing. This place is famous for a reason (and although it did end up on Guy Fieri's Diners, Dives, and Drive-Ins, the food and the vibe certainly don't seem to have suffered.) There are three locations - we ate at the original. Reservations strongly recommended.

RED DOG SALOON, PIONEERTOWN, CA

We stayed a night in Pioneertown, just outside of Joshua Tree. It being mid-week in the middle of the desert, there weren't a ton of options without going into Yucca Valley, but the Red Dog Saloon, right on the grounds of Pioneertown, proved to be a fantastic surprise. The menu is pretty much limited to tacos and other munchable fare you'd expect in a bar, but the tacos were FANTASTIC! The drinks were also great, and the vibe can't be beat. Nearby Pappy & Harriet's is the cult classic music venue also known for BBQ, but the Red Dog was our favorite Pioneertown surprise.

* While in Yucca Valley/Joshua Tree, check out the Wine and Rock Shop. It's a quirky little shop with an alien out front that sells a thoughtfully curated selection of natural wines... and rocks (crystals, pottery, candles etc.) I enjoyed the offbeat vibe and found a couple nice bottles of wine.

LILY'S, MALIBU, CA

Located in the Point Dume shopping plaza, Lily's has perhaps the best SoCal Mexican food I've ever had! Greg always gets the huevos rancheros, and I always get the fish tacos. These are my contenders for Best Fish Tacos, which in southern CA is a SERIOUS THING. The style here is very light and bright: the fish is grilled or broiled, not battered or fried, and the toppings are green, zesty and spicy. These are my favorite tacos of all time. Yes, yes they are.

MALIBU SEAFOOD, MALIBU, CA

But... if you're a fan of fish tacos that are a bit creamier, richer, with fried fish... you're gonna want to head to Malibu Seafood. Or if you're a fan of fish sandwiches, fish and chips, chowder, ... you get the idea. My Runner Up to Lily's when it comes to fish tacos, that may only be because I prefer my fish not fried and like light, bright cuisine. But these fish tacos are an amazing example of the alternative style, and the rest of the seafood on the menu is equally mind blowing. Located just across the PCH from the beach, this is an iconic roadside eatery (you can also get raw fish and prepared foods at the seafood market next door) and a must-eat when heading up US 1.

URTH CAFFE, SANTA MONICA, CA (ALSO PASADENA + OTHER LOCATIONS)

Urth Caffe is a small chain: great coffee, tea, incredible baked goods, and a great selection of salads, sandwiches, and other fare that’s one of my favorite lunch spots to hit up when in Santa Monica. We grabbed a bite at the Pasadena location on this tour, which was equally lovely.

SOUTH CREEK PIZZA, RENO, NV

Amazing, delectable, thin crust Neopolitan-style pizza in the heart of Reno. South Creek Pizza is owned by Mike and Linda Madan, wonderful musicians and friends. It's a bonus that they're such lovely people and great musicians (check out their band, Reno Swing Set!), but this pizza place stands on its own without any personal connection whatsoever. Try the Spinacci, or The Linda (a mouthwatering combination of ricotta, honey, and lemon that does that sweet/savory balance perfectly!) Don't overlook the appetizers too, and enjoy a nice selection of wine and local craft beer on tap as well.

THE STAR HOTEL, ELKO, NV

Halfway between Reno and Salt Lake City (with not a lot else in between!) lies Elko, a railroad and mining town that happens to be a mecca of... Basque food?!? In the late 1800s, Basque immigrants headed to Elko to take advantage of the gold rush, and those that didn't strike it rich stuck around to work as sheepherders. A vibrant Basque community sprang up, and places like the Star Hotel were founded to serve as boarding houses for bachelor sheepherders when they weren't tending their flocks in the mountains, as well as a community gathering place, an address for mail and parcels to be sent, and more. The Basque cuisine here is of the mountains, not ocean, and features lamb chops and loads of beef dishes, rather than seafood. I had the beef tongue sandwich (very tasty - reminded me of a sliced steak sandwich with peppers and onions.) Greg enjoyed some chorizo, which was equally good! A regional cocktail was created by this immigrant community - the Picon (pronounced "pee-cawn", like the nut) Punch. It uses Picon, a French apéritif made from dried orange peels, with other bitter herbs like gentian and cinchona. In France, Picon traditionally accompanies beer, but in American Basque areas like Elko, Bakersfield, and Boise, it is served as a cocktail with grenadine, lemon, soda water, and a float of brandy, in a custom stemmed glass. I had one while I was waiting for the food, and it was pretty tasty. If you like bitter, amaro-driven cocktails, you'll probably like this too. The bartender said the record number of Picon Punches he had seen drunk in one day was 23. That guy's wife was not amused.

So that's the brief Restaurant Roundup from our last tour! I'll try to get a coffee shop listing together soon, but feel free to let me know how you enjoyed this post (I hope you did!) and I'll collect some more culinary highlights for the future.

Throwing Hay

Throwing Hay

Dust motes rising in a column in the thick sticky sunlight.

No point avoiding them; soon enough they'll form a protective layer

on your skin.

A layer of sweat, a layer of breath,

a layer of bugs.

A layer of living.

Another bale breaks the horizon of the hay mow, more to come,

more to come.

Dawn, repeated a thousand times over, at the end of day,

as merciless as the sunset.

Grab it with hooks, pick it up, sling it around, throw it the same distance as last time.

No more, no less.

Do not rush. There is no reason to rush.

There is no end in sight.

Going faster gets you nowhere fast. Going slower gets you scorn.

Go steady.

Think about your breath, think about the hay,

think about the guy in the mow above you (at least you didn't draw THAT straw today),

higher, hotter, wearier.

Think about the weather, about profanity, about beer.

Everything ends in its own good time, there is no negotiating.

But eventually everything ends.

The sweat becomes a baptism and the beer tastes of ambrosia.

A rebirth, a redemption,

and the only part of the entire process that doesn't suck. 

And here it is stored under dust in the mow of memory.

Here it is again.

Another dawn, another decade later.

Another bale off the elevator.

Another box in the storeroom.

Another package off the conveyer.

Another raw injustice, bruised and leaking into soggy corners.

Take a deep breath.

Think about the guy in the mow above you.

Don't move too fast, just move.

Pick it up.

Go steady.

Keep going.

Looking for Old New York (So I Can Eat It)

The rain came lashing down on 45th street, an audible presence on the roof of the theater, especially during quiet scenes. It was my sixth and final show of the week, subbing on Broadway, and after two years you’d think I’d be used to being here. You’d be wrong, as every time I’m back feels like the first time; same worries (will I miss a cue? Are the dynamics right? Has anything changed since last time?), same wonder (I get to work with so many incredible people! On Broadway!)
I had the rare luxury of a place to stay in the city, thus sparing me the commute and allowing some free time for “Errands in Old NYC.” For all that the city has lost to developers, money, and greed, even in the 17 years I’ve known it (and I’ve only known it as a visitor, never a resident), it’s comforting to take a tour of what remains:

Veselka (est. 1954) for my pierogi fix. Gem Spa (1957, although it opened under another name in the ‘20s)- still the best egg cream around. Decibel (1993) - the gritty graffitied underground sake bar. Kalustyan’s (1944) to stock up on za’ataar and finely ground bulgar, and try spices you can’t find anywhere else, then over to Curry in a Hurry (1976) for a quick dinner. Yakub Shoe Repair (mid 1990s), Carmine Street Guitars (1990) - check out the documentary!, Nha Trang Vietnamese restaurant on Baxter St. (1992). Joe Coffee on Waverly in the Village (the original!), a relative newcomer from 2003, representing the vanguard of the artisanal coffee boom in NYC. Real deal bagels at Ess a Bagel (1976). Lupe's East LA Kitchen (mid '80s?). I usually hit Joe’s Pizza on Carmine Street (1975) and Quantum Leap vegetarian restaurant (1974), but missed those on this trip.
It may not ever be my lot to live in the City That Never Sleeps (which may be for the best as I like sleep quite a lot!), and the city itself may be a shadow of its former glory, but my, are those remnants still splendid...
“... while Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, sons of bankers, sons of lawyers, turn around and say good morning to the night. For unless they see the sky- but they can’t and that is why they know not if it’s dark out or it’s light...” #nyc #oldnyc #nycbagels #broadway #thecitythatneversleeps #daisycuttermusic #eltonjohn

Bandanas & Bananas: Festival Survival Tips (2023 Updated Version)

It’s Summer and that means Festival Season! Perhaps the most fun season of them all (sorry, snow-lovers. I’m still not talking to you.) and one I look forward to all year. Since festivals are basically giant outdoor parties, they come with a few more challenges than the average indoors gig (this is true for both artists and audience), so I’ve dedicated this blog to some festival survival tips I’ve refined over the last 20+ years of outdoor performances. This post was originally written in 2019, freshly home (and showered) after a weekend in Westcliffe, CO (7800’ in elevation and dry as a bone) followed by a HOT Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival in upstate NY (97˚ F and 1000% humidity for three days in a row). Here’s the 2023 update, after a hot, rainy, steamy weekend at Old Songs Festival that left me walking around feeling like my own personal swamp-on-two-legs. As I’m writing this I’m realizing a lot of these tips are ones I learned backpacking and camping, now tweaked for a performance setting. Much of this is Common Sense of the “Well Duh” variety, but it’s incredible how often people pack their tent and cooler and forget their common sense. Hope you enjoy!

(As an aside: I LOVE camping. I LOVE festivals. I do NOT love camping at festivals where I have to perform. I will happily backpack 130+ miles through the ADKs, and my car camping dinner menus (and wine pairings) are legendary. But getting up on stage after that kind of activity with hair that resembles roadkill and enough bug bites to make me look like a plague victim is not the performance look I’m going for. So I generally do not camp at festivals where I’m performing.) Without further ado…

SARA’S FESTIVAL SURVIVAL HACKS:

1. HYDRATE. This is obvious. This is obvious and in the #1 slot for a reason. DO IT. With WATER. Gatorade is also a good option, or those fancy electrolyte powders that go into regular water, especially if you’re sweating a lot, which you’re probably going to be. Eat some salty things, and maybe a banana as well. Just don’t leave the banana at the bottom of your pack or bag. Think like an athlete (which musicians basically are, since we rely on fast muscle response to play and sing.) You’re not going to perform well if you’re dehydrated. I carry a reusable water bottle (24 oz Hydroflask) - for hot locations, I like something that will keep my drink cool, as it makes me more likely to actually drink it. I refilled it A TON this past weekend and actually surprised myself at how much water I drank without having to think about it. Hydroflask and Yeti both make some good insulated bottles of all colors and sizes that work unbelievably well. I love my Nalgene bottles for hiking under tree cover, but the lack of insulation means you just end up with hot water at a festival, which is pretty unappetizing.

2. Speaking of liquids…if you choose to indulge, BE CAREFUL WITH ALCOHOL. Day drinking is definitely part of the fun at festivals! I love a beer in between sets, and there’s some pretty great wine in cans nowadays (really!) I also have a killer recipe for cold brew coffee spiked with vanilla, brown sugar, and bourbon. I bring all of these things to festivals, and they’re big hits (just ask my band mates!) But if you’re sweating a lot, you don’t want to hydrate with alcohol, since it will actually dehydrate you, and that can lead to heat exhaustion or worse. And if you’re playing at a higher altitude than you’re used to, you’ll get tipsy a bit quicker as well. So rock that day drinking responsibly!

3. DON’T FORGET TO EAT. It’s hot, you’re busy, you’re distracted, you’re not all that hungry. You still need the energy, so don’t forget to eat something, even if it’s just snacking throughout the day. I’m a big fan of protein or granola bars for portable energy. My new favorite protein bars are the One Bar “S’more” or “Maple Donut” flavors, but granola and nut bars - or just plain trail mix for that matter - are well deserved classics. Just remember what sun and heat do to chocolate covered things.

4. SUNSCREEN. Another one for the Well Duh category, but there it is.*

5. BUG SPRAY. Ditto.*

   *A caveat with both sunscreen and bug spray: be careful to keep these away from the finish of your instrument. Some of them can be damaging to varnish, especially DEET! DEET literally melts plastic. It says so on the label, and I have a pair of rubber rain boots that came in contact with DEET that prove that point.

   For super buggy areas, I sometimes pretreat clothing I know I’ll be wearing a lot with permethrin. This also has the bonus of keeping the ticks away, an important consideration in those areas prone to tick-borne illnesses like Lyme Disease here in the east. Picaridin also makes a good alternative to DEET, there are herbal remedies galore, and even Avon’s iconic Skin-So-Soft is making the rounds. Just keep all that stuff away from your eyes and your instruments.

6. HAT. A broad-brimmed hat is great for keeping the sun off your head, off your neck, out of your eyes, and a lot of other places you don’t want it. Some folks prefer trucker hats/ball caps. Whatever works for you. Hats are cool. (Note to my fellow long haired travelers: if you clip your hair up a bit, and brush your bangs back, you can at least partially avoid the dreaded “hat head”. Plus it’s much more comfortable having long hair up off the back of your neck.)

7. LAYERS. Westcliffe, CO was in the 80s during the day, and 50˚F at night. I packed jeans, shorts, a tank top, a long sleeved merino wool shirt, a flannel shirt, a microfleece, and a goose down jacket. I wore all of them. Grey Fox was in the HIGH 90s and HUMID all weekend. Didn’t really need that flannel shirt (although it’s good to have most years when the sun goes down and the dampness kicks in.) Lots of lightweight, breathable, flowy clothing was the order of the day. Anything clingy would’ve just felt like a warm, soggy, second skin. Another consideration: how does sweat appear on the garment? White shorts and tops are cool, but too much sweat and they tend to become… see through. I like prints that hide sweat and dirt stains. Stuff that’s easy to wash is also a good idea, since you’ll definitely be needing to do laundry once you get home. In addition, don’t forget to consider what sort of tan lines you may or may not want!

   Finally, if you’re in a place where it rains, bring RAIN GEAR. The only time you’ll regret it is the time you don’t have it. That includes a jacket or poncho, whatever keeps your feet dry and your good shoes from getting ruined, and a couple of garbage bags to cover your instrument case or electronic gear, if need be. If your cellphone case isn’t a waterproof one, a Ziploc freezer bag will do the trick.

8. BANDANA. Instrumentalists: a bandana is your friend. Guitarists put it between their strumming arm and the body of the guitar to keep sweat off the instrument. Fiddlers (ahem) stick it on their chin and shoulder rest to keep the fiddle from literally sliding off your body. Mop the sweat from your brow, wipe the sweat off your fingerboard, soak it in ice water and drape it over the back of your neck… a bandana is your hot weather friend.

9. FOOTWEAR. This of course depends on your band’s dress code, if there is one, onstage. Some prefer boots (I’m a boot lover, myself!), some can do a dressier sneaker for more breathability, sometimes sandals are great. I’m personally not a fan of going barefoot onstage, mainly because of so much electricity snaking around the place, not to mention splinters, broken strings, mud, and other debris. Offstage, go for comfort. You’ll be walking and standing a lot. Apart from my stage boots, I also wore sandals with arch support, and my Bean Boots (it rains a lot at festivals, especially on the East Coast. Rain = mud. Mud = shoe killer.) Do not bring shoes that are delicate, can’t be washed, or that might be ruined by dirt and water.

10. HAIR AND MAKEUP. Whatever your hair does naturally, Mother Nature is going to crank up to 11 at a festival, particularly if there’s humidity involved. Humidity is the Grim Reaper of Good Hair Days. If you have curly hair, forget the straightener. If you have straight hair, that curling iron is probably a waste of time. This is likely not the most rewarding time to be trying out any fancy updos. Think natural texture, layers, and a little bit rock n’ roll. For makeup, I’ve found that the more you put on, the more will melt off your face by the end of the day. My own field-tested routine is something like this: tinted moisturizer (these usually also contain sunscreen, an added bonus), eyelid primer, water-resistant concealer, a dusting of matte powder on the T-zone, some neutral, shimmery eyeshadow, and waterproof mascara. Setting spray can help things stay put a little better too. Oil-blotting papers are a handy thing to keep in the gig bag for getting rid of shine on your nose. Steer away from dark eyeshadow- it’s really noticeable when it starts to crease and run, whereas a lighter shade with some shimmer tends look better longer. I’m a fan of waterproof mascara, not only for staying put throughout my own sweaty sets, but for also hanging in there when I’m watching other artists perform, and things get a bit emotional. (Leigh Gibson singing “In the Ground”, or Jason Isbell singing “If We Were Vampires”… you get my drift.)

11. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR CELLPHONE IN YOUR BACK POCKET WHEN USING A PORTO-JOHN. This one pretty much speaks for itself. I have been lucky in this regard, but I know many who have not. Just put your phone in a front pocket, a zippered pocket, your bag, a purse, down your bra*, whatever keeps it away from danger, until you’re done. Then carry on as usual. (*Don’t keep your phone in your bra all the time- it’s gross and potentially hazardous. Just the few minutes you need to keep your phone away from the Porto-John Danger Zone.)

    That’s all the tips I can think of for now- in the meantime, there’s a big pile of laundry waiting for me in the hallway! Hope you enjoy the rest of Festival Season in safety and style, and feel free to add your own tips and tricks in the comments!

What Is Work, Anyway?

Songwriting (or creating art of any kind) is an existential morass, especially if you’re a self-employed workaholic who really likes checking things off their To Do List.

It’s excruciatingly hard to sit still for an indeterminate amount of time trying to mine your brain for random musical ideas that will hopefully be halfway decent. The ticker tape running in the background goes something like this: “How long will this take/will this even work/shouldn’t I be updating the website/booking gigs/buying groceries/paying bills/doing laundry/working on music for other projects/spending time with friends and family/is this just a waste of time anyway…” On and on and on, in the sort of piercing tones akin to a red squirrel sitting in a tree hollering at the cat that just walked by. (If you’ve never heard a red squirrel, that incessant chattering could cut glass.) To sit still and devote time to a pursuit that may actually yield nothing of immediate use is almost a form of torture.

Being raised on a farm, I grew up equating work with tangible results. Put in X amount of hours = produce X amount of product. That product usually pays the bills, or is very tasty, or both. The only things that could get in the way were acts of nature or breakdowns. You certainly didn’t “work” by sitting very still and staring into space for long periods of time. Work was a form of self worth. There’s no higher compliment than “They’re a good worker.” Work can also be a form of expression or communication (as in working hard for someone is a way to show how much you care, even if you’re not good at using your words for that purpose).

Given that a lot of my creative brain involves wrestling with self doubt, it’s extra difficult for me at least to see what I’m doing as “work” (which of course it is) without any immediate gratification. If I’m not producing something tangible, am I really working? And by that definition of work = self worth, am I even doing something worthwhile? Or am I just a lazy, day-dreaming slacker? And once those questions start rolling, it’s down the squirrel hole I go, as the actual songwriting itself poses a whole new set of terribly unhelpful philosophical questions: Is this melody good? Am I committed to these chords? Are these REALLY the lyrics I want? Am I saying what I mean to say? What do I mean to say anyway? Is what I mean to say even worth saying? I mean, is anything worth saying? Is anything worth anything? What IS anything, anyway?

You’d think at this point I wouldn’t be surprised to remember that songwriting is, hard. Hard work. But either I forget or I’m a very slow learner. Or maybe I can’t retain that knowledge and confidence in the “process” over the insane high pitched scrabblings of the deranged squirrels doing laps around my brain.

“If you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life.” Um, yeah, not so much. (Doesn’t mean we don’t love what we do! Just means the fella that came up with that pithy saying must not have been in the arts. Or agriculture.)

Ok, enough said. BACK TO WORK!

Farming Made Me a Feminist

How Farming Made Me a Feminist

I grew up on one of the last remaining vestiges of "traditional" family life here in the Good Ole US of A- the family farm. Mom and Dad worked together, that was for sure, but it was a lifestyle that would have been instantly familiar to the "Archie Bunkers" of the 50s, the America that some want to go "back to" so desperately, although I'm fairly certain it never existed for them in the first place. And yet- it made me a feminist. (Well, that and some critical thinking, the examples of incredibly strong women who surrounded me, empathy, a good education, and the opportunity to travel and think quite a bit.)

Mom and Dad met at Ag school- in an animal husbandry class, I believe, the first generation of each of their families to go to college. They're also first generation farmers- neither of them inherited the farm we still work today, although they both grew up around farming (as a teenager Dad worked at the dairy farm down the road, and Mom spent a lot of time on the horse farms around her part of southern Vermont). After college Dad worked as a diesel mechanic and Mom as a veterinary technician until they purchased the farm that's now ours. I don't know if they ever wished for a firstborn son to help with the work; by the time I came along they had probably given up wishing for anything. But there I was- (surprise!) the eldest daughter, followed 9 years later by my brother, who now works the farm with Dad full time (in addition to being a talented diesel mechanic in his own right).

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time outdoors growing up. And because it was a farm, there was no shortage of work to be done. And work we all did, from mucking the animals to mowing the grass at the age of 9 (I graduated to bigger tractors a year or two later.) We had occasional hired help as well, a position filled equally by women and men over the years.

Yes, Dad and his generation were "old school": I remember being sent back to the house at the age of 16 because the "guys" were putting hay up in the mow that night and would be using language unsuitable for a "young lady." Given that I had already been playing fiddle in Irish bars for the past year, it was pretty much a given that my vocabulary of obscenities far surpassed anything the local township might have come up with (I could draw from a vast well of multicultural references, after all!). I dragged my arse back to the house, not sure whether to be indignant at being kicked out of the barn over an obvious double standard or relieved to have been let off of a hot, exhausting job thanks to outdated cultural paradigms.

But the guys also had a deep respect for any woman laborer sharing the job with them. Mom was at home for much of my childhood, but she also worked as a veterinary technician, a school lunch lady, and simultaneously logged more hours on the farm with Dad than any of the hired help ever did.  She took no guff from anyone; man, woman, or child. Especially man. The only time you could use the word "settle" was with the word "up". There was no settling "for" or "down". And blue language issues aside, Dad was always and often the first to note that his most reliable workers were women. Women were consistently careful, efficient, and less likely to complain. Turns out the masculine urge that leads guys to show off to one another also led to a high rate of equipment breakage and crop losses...

Social roles might have been gendered, but labor sure wasn't. If a box trailer showed up that needed to be loaded with 600 bales of hay (each weighing between 35-45 lbs), then whoever was available was loading that box trailer, and differences in anatomy never mattered much. (The only time that mattered was if your knees were sticking out of shorts when you were loading hay. No one ever loaded hay in shorts more than once. Do NOT load hay in shorts.)

So farming gave me a great deal of self confidence, of common sense, of a love of the natural world, and so many other things. I hope every child can get some sense of that growing up- it's among the most valuable life experiences I can possibly imagine. And it made me a feminist.

It was my first experience of that conflict, that dichotomy of being treated differently when it came to the social aspects of work life while still fulfilling all the expectations of the actual work itself. It led me to think long and hard about my options for making my way in life as I came of age. When I went out into the world as a professional musician the differences only got more dramatic. The options presented weren't that plentiful, in terms of social currency. Traditional female roles were pretty limited: Good Girls or Bad Girls. Good Girls were the "girls next door", "damsels in distress", or "cute ingenues." Bad Girls were "wild", "man-eaters", "sluts". None of those options seemed all that great, to be honest, being as they all depended on another person's reaction for happiness and success. There was one other path that presented itself: the one all the guys were on. Since guys seemed to have all the power and options, that seemed to be the way to go. So many of us went out onto the guys' playing field. We worked longer, we lifted heavier stuff, we played faster, we drank harder, we cussed bluer. Because if you were accepted as "one of the guys", maybe you had a chance at the opportunities they all took for granted. And then one day you didn't, because someone noticed you weren't one of the guys after all. And then you had to figure it out all over again, and then you realized there still aren't that many options.

And compared to all of that, loading 600 bales of hay into a box trailer on a 90 degree day seems pretty easy.

Cows Don't Float. Neither Do People.

"Houston: We Feel Your Pain. Aug 29, 2011." Those were the words on the lighted sign outside the Rotterdam Junction, NY fire department as I drove from my family's farm in the Mohawk Valley back to my home in the Hudson Valley. From one valley to another. 6 years ago a friend of the family, a fellow farmer, the patriarch of a farm family in the Schoharie and Mohawk Valleys, lost his life driving through standing water to inspect his fields flooded by Hurricane Irene. 6 years ago my brother came home with a look on his face I'll never forget. He spent the day pulling dead cows out of flooded barns. Irene wasn't even a hurricane by the time it got around to knocking on the Northeast's door. That wording didn't matter to the folks in upstate NY, in VT, NH... We were devastated. Six years later you can still see the scars, if you know where to look. And now, the scale of what's happening down south is almost unfathomable, even for those of us who've seen a bit of it before.

This week we announced that Rootstock 2017 will take place on October 1st, right down by the river in Beacon. I've never been prouder of the lineup: this time around, Daisycutter will be joined by The Gibson Brothers, Sloan Wainwright, and The Shockenaw Mountain Boys. I'm honored and humbled to be sharing the stage with such company. The money that we raise will go towards establishing an emergency relief fund for local farmers, to help them keep going in the immediate wake of natural disasters. However, farmers are one big community, joined by our commitment to the land, to growing and feeding our neighbors, and by the soil in our veins. The Northeast farming community knows firsthand the pain and suffering our sisters and brothers in Texas are going through, and our hearts are breaking with them. So in support and solidarity with our fellow farmers in Texas, we're donating at least 10% of this year's net proceeds from the Rootstock festival to flood relief and recovery efforts for Texas farmers. You can get the full details over at www.rootstockfest.org

You can download the song I wrote post-Irene, West of Eden, for free here at Bandcamp. We're also donating all our proceeds from album downloads to Red Cross relief efforts in Texas.

Hang in there, Houston. We know how you feel- and we know how tough farmers (and Texans) are. We're with you, and sending you all our love and support.

West of Eden
- Sara Milonovich c. 2012 (ASCAP)

Driving, dodging the deer and the drunks
Past foundations left in the floodplain so long
Still there waiting where the water put them down
It is just flotsam? Or one more farm gone?

Who do you blame? The corps of engineers?
Or the wind and the rain, the way that they came out of nowhere?
Quench the thirsty downtown- we’ll never know the reason
They left us here West of Eden waiting to drown

Remember the fields in afternoons of amber
Now they’re buried in brown, and I feel like a foreignlander
Not anymore use– just a helpless bystander
Got to stand up for something, better be your neighbor

Neon eye’s focused on wildfires now
Long since forgotten the lead lining inside the clouds
Nothing left to do but wear it with pride as a shroud
It's a bitter drink, just swallow it down

Chorus

The grass has grown up to hide the worst of the scars
The money’s dried up with the mud in the yard
We sang “goodnight” but we’re still waiting for the stars
Could have cut out and run, but we just give up too hard

Chorus
We’re still here West of Eden, waiting to drown.

The Smell of Cow Manure Makes Me Homesick (Life on the Road)

The Smell of Cow Manure Makes Me Homesick (AKA Life on the Road)

"Wow, sounds like you had an AMAZING vacation." I've just run into a friend at the coffee shop and his offhanded comment (echoed by everyone from family members to total strangers) has me torn between bemusement and laughter. Having just come back from a 9 day ("Thunder run") tour of the Netherlands and Germany, I thought it would be a good time to write about what touring (here at home or abroad) is most often like, in my experience. Including (especially) the things that don't make Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter.

THE CLIFF NOTES VERSION:

If you want to simulate how it feels physically, just stay up for at least 24 hours, sit in a really uncomfortable chair for enough time that your back aches and various limbs fall asleep, then borrow a car you've never driven, switch your GPS to a foreign language, and use it to navigate to a place several hours away in a town where you don't know anyone, and try to do your work as usual, preferably with some element of public speaking in there. Eat and drink something you don't usually, then try to sleep in an unfamiliar place. Now get up 2-3 hours earlier than normal and lather, rinse, repeat for at least a week, probably two to three weeks if you can spare it. If 36 hours is all you've got, then just throw a small bucket of cash out the window of that borrowed car, and head home.

THE UP: It can be an inspiring, transformative experience.

Although you don't often have the time to see all the museums, restaurants, cultural attractions and other tourist-type things you'd see on an actual vacation, you do get to hang out with the people who actually live and work in the cities and towns you're playing in- the quickest, easiest way to get a real insider's perspective into what life in those areas is like. Want to know where the music stores, record shops, bookstores, coffee shops, farmers' markets, cool bars are? Easy.

Unexpected experiences can pop up out of nowhere and make your day. An impromptu bike ride to a mill that Van Gogh painted? A hike to a beautiful overlook in the Alps? Finding that cool little farm stand with the local cheeses and smoked salmon just off the Northern CA coast? Spontaneous happenings can easily become highlights of the trip.

It's also really special (domestically or internationally) to get to share your art with interested audiences who may not have known about you before. It can be incredibly rewarding to connect, make new friends, and experience your art through a completely fresh (sometimes unexpected) perspective. This is probably the biggest reason why we do it.

It's a truly mind-broadening experience. Seeing firsthand different lifestyles, different viewpoints, different ways of doing and looking at things, without a comfort zone to fall back on can do incredible things for your empathy, humanity, and imagination. When you're in one place for a while, it's easy to assume that there's only one or two ways to do or look at things. "Get out of Dodge" for a bit, and that gets totally upended. It's cross-ventilation for the mind. I always come back feeling more creative, more nimble, more flexible in my thinking and doing and being.  

THE DOWN: It's physically and mentally really, really hard.

You're exhausted the majority of the time. Most of us are familiar with what a drag jet lag is, but trying to be functional without any recovery time is its own form of hell. Most of the time, you'll arrive and have a show the same night. So you'll hit the ground running that night, then get up and do it again the next day, and the next... At some point jet lag will switch to garden-variety tiredness, but it takes an experienced connoisseur of exhaustion to detect the subtle change. You also spend a lot of time sitting on your bum, in cars, planes, trains etc. Your legs will fall asleep and your butt will become very tired, just like the rest of you.

You probably won't get to see those museums, hip restaurants, galleries, spas, natural, or cultural attractions. You just won't have the time. Most days will either be gig days or travel days. Days off are to be avoided if at all possible, because any day you're not playing, you're losing money. (Sometimes there are exceptions, and I always try to add a few days on to the end of a tour to get to see some of those things I wouldn't have the opportunity to see otherwise.)

Speaking of money, you probably won't make much. Sometimes you'll be in the black, sometimes you'll be in the red, sometimes you'll break even. The overhead required to make it happen in the first place can be overwhelming and take a long time to recoup. Just Google some airfares (either domestic or international) and then multiply by the number of band members you'd like to bring. Add in a car rental, throw in for gas, tolls, lodging on nights the venue doesn't provide a place to stay, meals, and other unexpected expenses, like gear repair, socks, or your 37th replacement iPhone charger.

The weirdest things will make you weep. (Mostly because of the exhaustion- it's not lost on us that sleep deprivation is an interrogation tactic.) For me, it's the smell of cow manure. Or new-mown hay. This puts me in a minority, I know, but whenever we're in farm country, look out. (City-dwellers have other triggers that I know far less about. They always seem to have something to do with the smell of rain on asphalt.) Other weird things will make you laugh. It's trippy.

THE CONCLUSION (IF THERE REALLY IS ONE):

In short (or long), this is what it's like, much of the time. We generally only post the really cool stuff on social media- the awe-inspiring views, the fabulous dinners, the cool venues. Because nobody really wants to see half the band asleep and drooling in the back of the van, or hauling gear up several flights of hotel stairs (no elevator!) at 2 am, or the tiny bed in a hostel in the middle of nowhere where you hit your head on the sloped ceiling in the middle of the night, or the hours you sat in traffic, or the piles of dirty laundry...

Touring is an alternate reality, an enhanced state brought on by completely uprooting yourself physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's strange, inspiring, rewarding, exhausting, exciting, boring, and in the end can serve as a mental brush fire of sorts, forcing you to focus on things that might not be possible in the tedium of everyday. This can be a very useful thing, and I recommend that everyone try it, if possible. It's hard, and you might not come home with a lot of financial reward to show for it. (It's also not for everyone, and for those with small children, I can't even fathom how you do it!) But you get to share art with new friends in new places, and although the road is harder now than it's ever been, there are still a bunch of us crazy fools out there doing it. Maybe we'll be coming to your town soon. Can we do some laundry?