12.09.02: JFK Airport, Terminal 4

Sitting here at Gate A7 and waiting for my delayed flight to take me to Amsterdam and then to Stuttgart and then finally to Berlin where I'll be playing a show with the wonderful Alejandro Escovedo and then jumping into the first day of promotion for my new album 'Static Transmission.' That's right, after a year of writing and recording and sporadic gigging, it seems that it's time for a solid year of promotion and touring and that means it's tour diary season once again.

Food? You want food? Hey, bub, we got food and this new terminal at JFK has one of the better food courts you're likely to find at any airport (though some of the smoked salmon kiosks in Scandinavia are pretty mind-blowing). The highlight, by far, is a stand for Sylvia's, the famous soul food restaurant in Harlem. $2.50 bought me a heart-stopping (in more ways than one) bowl of macaroni and cheese, though the black-eyed peas and collard greens were also looking pretty good.

Music? You want music? Well, the new record is indeed finished, having been mastered about two weeks ago. Returned to Wavelab in Tucson, Arizona (where I recorded 'Here Come the Miracles' in 2000) and was joined by my road-tested Miracle 3 (Linda, Jason and Dave) along with Chris Cacavas who has moved to Germany and, thus, had a much longer journey to return to his hometown on this record. Craig Schumacher was the engineer and coproducer again and I'm really happy with the results. The record will be released in Europe by Blue Rose on February 24 (and by Astro in Spain) and then should be out in the US sometime this Spring.

The album is called 'Static Transmission' and the title reflects the combination of songs and styles which somewhat resembles a late night drive through the desert with a crackling radio station drawing sounds and styles that could be either from some dark radio studio or from the control center of your average UFO. a dark and beautiful, soothing and unsettling journey--similar in some ways to 'Miracles' but deeper, hookier, freakier and lovelier in many ways. Hey, I haven't dabbled in rock criticism in many
years but you'll see what I mean soon enough.

Speaking of which, you can expect a sneak preview on this very site on New
Year's Day so stay tuned.

Touring? You want touring? Well, there will be plenty of that in the coming months. I'll be doing a ten-day acoustic tour of Germany (dates available elsewhere on this site) with Jason in January and after a visit to Austin for the annual South by Southwest convention in March, we will begin a nine-week full-band tour of Europe with some US dates and more European dates and more US dates (etc) to follow. I'm looking forward to shaking up the set list, bringing back a bunch of old songs, both popular and obscure as well as some covers. Should be a wild tour with a lot of surprises.

Anyway, it's about time to board the plane and I've got to go buy some newspapers and magazines. I'm looking forward to keeping the suitcase packed and getting to as many cities as possible in the coming year. In the meantime, keep watching this site for more details.

9.08.02: New York City

When the programming director for Delta Airlines in-flight radio and magazine contacted me to host an hour-long show about anything I chose, I wasnt at a loss for ideas. I was a DJ when I was in college (and still dabble now and then--have me up to your station when I come to town!) and this kind of stuff is in my blood. I thought about doing something about Garage Rock or maybe Early 70s Soul Music but finally settled on a show celebrating American Rock Storytellers. Believe me, it was tough to narrow down the field to fit in the brief time frame and I hated to leave out favorites like Tony Joe White, Lou Reed, Freedy Johnston, Randy Newman, John Fogerty and Johnny Cash but Im happy with the final results. You can hear the show during the next two months (September and October) if youre flying on Delta but, otherwise, here are my selections:

FRANKS WILD YEARS--Tom Waits
PANCHO AND LEFTY--Townes Van Zandt
JOHNNY 99--Bruce Springsteen
STRANGE NEW WORLD--Steve Wynn
EXCITABLE BOY--Warren Zevon
CAR WHEELS ON A GRAVEL ROAD--Lucinda Williams
SPRING DAY IN OHIO--Continental Drifters
BY THE TIME I GET TO PHOENIX--Glen Campbell
TANGLED UP IN BLUE--Bob Dylan
THERE WILL COME A DAY--Steve Wynn

Yes, I did include two of my own songs but it was at the encouragement of the programming director. Really. Honestly. Then again, I do kinda like the idea of some corporate executive getting his ears and mind blown by Strange New World as he makes his way to an important meeting. So, no complaints. Anyway, check out the show if and when youre flying--it beats watching the latest Adam Sandler movie.

8.02.02: New York City

Sitting in a sweltering New York City apartment and the new Bruce Springsteen CD is on the stereo and if there was any further need to remind myself that I am back on American soil I suppose I will get such home reinforcement when I head into the East Village tonight to battle the resident hipsters for valuable air-conditioned space, chased by various libations and jukebox delights. As John Sebastion once sang, Hot town, summer in the city.... and Im pretty certain that the Loving Spoonful classic had to have been written on a day much like this.

But only 72 hours ago, the Miracle 3 and I were very far away, eating pasta and feeling pretty good about the show we had played last Sunday in a courtyard in Catania, Sicily. The show was a posthumous birthday celebration for Francesco Virlinzi, local musician, producer, promoter, label owner and music lover who sadly passed away a few years back. Francesco and I had hung out on a few occasions and his Gram Parsons tribute album Commemorativo was most definitely the genesis and catalyst for the existence of Gutterball. A great guy and his mother Nica did a wonderful thing by arranging a concert in honor of the anniversary of his birth and invited us to be the entertainment (along with Elliott Murphy). I will be fully diplomatic (and quite honest) to say that any given show on any given night in any given setting can be the best gig ever BUT there is certainly an advantage for such magic when youre in a courtyard in the middle of the center of Catania, under the stars and playing music as the midnight hour approaches. Among other surprises that night was a rendition of the traditional folk song Morning Dew which I hadnt played since the days when it was a staple of Dream Syndicate sets, circa 1982.

Yes, the show was special, our local friends and hosts were kind and entertaining (hello to Simone, Manuela, Grazia, Alex, Mauro, Nica, Jessica and Sandro) and the food was good (lots and lots of sardines--man, they love their sardines in Catania) and a perfect last show before we crawl into various practice spaces and living rooms and attics and mix the potent and pungent ingredients that we will take to Tucson in September to make the new album. A few dark tales, some power chords, a backbeat and lots and lots of garlic. Yeah, that should do it.

7.23.02: New York City

In the midst of the unlikeliest of tour routing: Scotland to Cleveland to Sicily. I've had people comment incredulously on the difficulty of such travel but, to be honest, if you've got enough books, CDs and maybe a laptop and songs to write, the trip goes by pretty quickly. And gives a chance to make studied analysis of the differences between Scotch Eggs, Amish-baked apple pies and linguine.

Cleveland was great and a chance to return to one of our favorite US clubs, the Beachland Tavern. It was the first gig in over two months for the Miracle 3 and we celebrated by unleashing a torrential storm of sound, fury, frenzy, humor and sonic love. Debuted "Hollywood" and "One Less Shining Star," two songs from the upcoming album that we will be recording in September. Also had the chance to check out the Ass Ponys, a fine band from Cincinnati that were sharing the bill. Great guys, great songs, late night.

The next day was a drive into the heart of Pennsylvania (hence the Amish trea ts) to play my first-ever House Gig. These shows in which singer/songwriters and/or bands are hired by fans to do a show right in the living room for a collection of friends, family and neighbors are quite the rage in the US indie scene and I've been hearing about such shows from friends like Amy Rigby, Pat DiNizio and Chris Von Sneidern. When I was approached by David Barron last Spring at a Philly show and asked if I would do such a gig I said I was very interested.

A trail of narrow, windy roads led us to Lewistown, where David lives. We were indeed greeted by his best pals (many of whom knew my music quite well), his wife and kids and even his Mom who had put together a table of good food. A few cold Sam Adams and we set up the quiet semi-acoustic version of the Miracle 3 and embarked on a request-heavy set right there in the living room. Sounded great, had fun and we had to pull ourselves away from David's fine collection of Scotch and Irish whiskies to get back on the road for New York. Very cool experience and something I would definitely do again.

And that brings us back to New York where we are unpacking (why?) and then packing again for this Sunday's festival in Catania (Sicily). After that, the "Here Come the Miracles" 18-month tour officially ends after about 150 shows. Time to toss all of the new songs, a pile of instruments, some tape machines and some bedraggled musicians into the center of the room, stir lightly over a low heat and see what results. my guess is that it will be something very, very spicy.

7.16.02: London

The last song of the last night of a tour is certainly the chance to do something impulsive. It's a good chance for an unusual cover tune, a long jam session or even the ripping of every string from the body of the guitar (as I did after the final Dream Syndicate show in 1988). But last night in Birmingham when I had the sudden impulse to pass my electric guitar over to Robert Fisher so that he could 'rock out' I had no idea that I was setting up the FIRST time he had ever played electric guitar on stage. He seemed a little apprehensive but was quite up to the task of drone/noisemeister on '500 Girl Mornings.' Tried to get him to take a solo but I guess he's taking this axeslinger thing one step at a time. And that was that. We packed up, got in the van, drove three hours to London where we blearily hugged, shook hands, tidied up loose ends and scattered ourselves to various corners of the world. Walter and Tonya were planning an extra day of tourism in London, Deanna was on her way back home to Chicago before returning to New York for a Lambchop show this weekend and Robert was getting ready to begin mixing his new album in North London. Me? a quick pit-stop back home before shows this weekend in Cleveland and Central Pennsylvania and then back to the airport for a festival in Sicily next weekend. And we all return to our regular gigs with the ideas, stories, experiences of the Songwriter Circle that will likely make its mark on what we do in the months to come. and thus the Circle remains unbroken. Over and out.

7.14.02: Leaving Scotland

Every tour needs a little time for blatant and unabashed tourism and yesterday was certainly the day. The small, scenic roads that wind through the Northern Scotland countryside between Aberdeen and Inverness allowed for stops at an actual Stone Circle (druid ritual worship site constructed 4000 years ago and currently tended by cud-chewing cows who seem pretty bored with the whole thing), the Chivas Regal distillery and finally the Highland Games in Inverness. The latter featured large, burly Scotsmen in kilts participating in the Caber Toss--an event in which these Men Among Men attempt to throw a very large, very weighty column of wood a foot or two into a field. Overhead RAF planes either circled and looped various loops or dropped synchronized parachutists only feet away from the kilted tossers (which is slang for something, I'm sure). After a day of druid remains, single malt whiskey, kilts and parachutes one would think that the gig itself would seem positively tame, a mere afterthought but the presence of more fine local whiskies (hey, it was a vacation day) and a roomful of buzzed locals (kilted tossers?) who, among other things, seemed very intent that Walter sing the Arlo Guthrie nugget "Alice's Restaurant" (he didn't oblige) kept the surreal tone continuing well into the night. Now, if only I would have ordered the haggis at dinner.......

7.12.02: The road to Aberdeen

The phrase 'unplugged' has become almost ubiquitous, an absolute cliche and usually a glaring inaccuracy as bands with giant PA systems, supercharged amplifiers, effects pedals and dozens of roadies to keep all of these items in line are termed 'unplugged' as long as one or two of the guitars have a big hole in the middle and could be heard at ten paces without amplification. But last night in Edinburgh we were truly unplugged, 100% acoustic as Robert, Walter and I played music much the same as the original troubadour had done hundreds of years ago, outside of the possibility that those minstrels probably didn't dine on watercress salads and sell digital facsimiles of their music upon completion of the performance. Nonetheless, what you saw is what you got: three singer/songwriters sitting in chairs, playing acoustic guitars (and harmonicas and various percussion items) and using only lung power and quite complimentary acoustics of the room to get the songs and stories across. An d we had a great time, playing for well over two hours, taking requests and leading the audience in various sing-a-longs (about the blackest of subjects, naturally--everybody SING!) before chatting with the locals and then tracking down a fine late-night snack joint where I finally had the fish and chips that I had been dreaming about the entire tour. good late night grub though I am thinking that the Edinburgh Castle needs to open a White Castle right next door--man, it would make a mint!

7.11.02: Glasgow

Deanna left the tour yesterday for a one-off gig in Mallorca (a Tom Waits related festival that I played last year) and while we miss her, we are also well aware that she's gotta be enjoying a few days in the Mediterranean sun. So we soldier on, the all-male trio version of the Songwriter Circle (with Tonya on board to balance out any seismic testosterone shift that might occur). Played the best-named club on the planet--King Tut's Wah-Wah Hut in Glasgow--and divided up the Varagona time, resulting in more songs for each of us. I added 'The Days of Wine and Roses' and 'Boston' to the set which seemed to go over well with an audience that knew me from previous visits. Came back for an insomniac night with the BBC, some weird Roy Scheider movie that Robert watched as well. Man, that guy can play 'the heavy' quite well--has he EVER been a romantic lead in ANY movie? Something to ponder on the short drive to Edinburgh.

7.10.02: Crossing the border into Scotland

I could tell you all about the show in Manchester. I could tell you that we were able to sprawl across one of our largest stages of the tour, scattering our various instruments, notes and personal effects in every direction as though were waiting for a Greyhound bus to Kalamazoo. I could tell you that we all performed some material that hadn't surfaced before on the other shows (I played 'Under the Weather' and 'When You Smile,' both by request). But I feel like going on about the events that happened AFTER the show. First of all, Manchester has an incredible little stretch of late-night Indian restaurants--all incredible and all decked out with gaudy neon. It's like Las Vegas for Curry! Naturally, we had to make the scene along with Barry Everitt (who was in town to pay his respects) and the band and friends of Julie McLarnon who was our opening act and host for the evening. I had some Balti Lamb, a dish I highly recommend. And then it was back to Julie's place where Robert, Walter and I watched--miracle of miracles!--a live broadcast of the Major League Baseball All-Star game. Nothing like watching your favorite baseball players do their thing as the sun is about to come up. Seemed like most of the players were either on the Yankees (my team) or the Red Sox (Robert's favorite) so we had plenty of topics for discussion. well, at least until 4am when I began nodding off and figured I would be better off playing the rest of the game in my dreams. But that's another story.

7.09.02: Manchester

Any night that ends in a room filled with old vinyl, drinking homemade wine and listening to Sun Ra and the Blues Project playing music inspired by the Batman TV show is just fine with me. And that was indeed the culmination of a great night in Newcastle. Our show in York had been canceled at the last minute and at the last-minute-plus-one we ended up getting a fill-in show at a pub in Newcastle, a city I had only seen for a few hours in 1984 while waiting for a ferry to Bergen, Norway. Turns out to be a great place with wonderful architecture, a strong arts and music scene, fine record stores and some pretty savvy and enthusiastic music fans. I was applauded by a few fans for the mud that had collected to my boots but that was just a matter of neglect and lost hours since the mudfest at Finnsbury Park the other day. hardly a fashion statement, though if I return to Newcastle next year and find a roomful of people with carefully applied mud on their footwear I will happily accept my newfound role as trendsetter.

7.08.02: Leaving London

LEAVING LONDON--After nine shows in nine days, a weekend off would normally mean a chance to catch up on sleep, do some laundry, take care of a few errands and maybe take some time out for a movie. But this is London, baby, and 48 hours was just enough time to scratch the surface of possibilities and sleep/chores just wasn't going to figure into the equation. Went out to Finnsbury Park on Saturday with my friend Jeroen to see the big Oasis/Charlatans/Black Rebel Motorcycle Gang/Cornershop show. This was indeed the toughest ticket in town and all 120,000 tickets for the three days had sold in four hours. But Jeroen (a friend dating back to the late 80s when he and his wife Thessa would sometimes hitch rides with the Syndicate from gig to gig) works for Sony and was kind enough to invite me along for the spectacle. Man, I can't imagine a more prototypical London moment than standing amidst 40,000 Oasis fans all singing 'Don't Look Back In Anger' at the top of their lungs, though the experience of walking the North London streets post-show with the same multitudes of (mostly) drunk 'lads' comes pretty close.

The next day I met up with Jaap in the West End and we began a record store rampage that took us from Tottenham Court to Camden Town. You can certainly find some cheap prices for music that would be tough to find in American stores, particularly American soul and R&B records which is, of course, pretty ironic. I scored CDs by Gil Scott Heron, the Chi Lites, King Tubby, Jah Wobble, Terry Hall and a few reggae and funk compilations. Also got the latest by Gonzales, one of my favorites (track down his 'Gonzales Uber Alles,"--mind-blowingly great CD). Found Stave a friend and writer for the dy-no-mite UK magazine Comes With a Smile at Rhythm Records and we retired to a pub for political and musical debates over pints of Guinness and then it was time to head over to the Golden Lion's pub to see Sid Griffin and the Coal Porters play an incredible bluegrass set I was recruited to play a few songs on my own and then joined the CPs for their encores of 'You Ain't Goin' Nowhere' (does EVERYONE play this song?) and the Undertones' "Teenage Kicks" which translates quite well from Northern Ireland to the Bluegrass mountains. Off with Sid, Jaap and Coal Porters' multi-instrumentalist Pat McGarvey for some fine Italain food and story-swapping before calling it a relatively early night due to the 5am wakeup call that has led me to this very van in which we are heading up to Newcastle for a 1pm BBC broadcast. Maybe I'll play 'Champagne Supernova.'

7.06.02: London

Sitting here in the North London (Crouch End to be specific) flat of my pal Barry Everitt, a man who needs no introduction to the longtime readers of these various tour diaries. As my former tour manager/soundman/agent/manager Barry has logged more miles, experienced more shows, closed down more bars and eaten more memorable meals with me than just about anybody on this planet (LInda excepted) and now he has retired from the touring life and has made his mark as the booker/manager of London's legendary Borderline club. But he wasn't there last night and he isn't here right now as he's out of town for the wedding of his son Blue (yep, that's right--as in 'something borrowed, something....) So I've got the run of Casa Everitt and am hanging with his cats Rocco and Loco, drinking coffee and listening to an advance copy of the new Primal Scream record (amazing) and getting ready for two days off in this fine metropolis.

I really dug last night's show. The crowd was familiar with each of our ba ck catalogues and receptive to the mixing and matching of our styles and sounds. In other words, they got it. And that support from the audience led to our most daring, off-the-cuff, fiery, intimate and friendly show of the tour. I was in a celebratory mood after the show and had low-key post-show revelry with none other than Tape Trader Supremo Jaap Bos who came from Holland for the weekend to see the show. Said revelry was basically some Red Stripes and a doner kebab but in the midst of the swirling West End it seemed proof enough that London does indeed swing, if not like a pendulum, then at least like the computer AC cord that is currently being swatted at by Rocco. Hey, kitty, easy with the technological apparatus!

7.05.02: The road to London

Sitting in a mondo-traffic jam as we approach London for tonight's show at the Borderline. Walter sits patiently behind the wheel (he has been heroic in taking the lion's share of the driving on this trip) while Tonya sits by his side, keeping up on various local events via Time Out and the Guardian. Robert is in the middle seat, scanning the A to Z (that's 'ZED' to you, bub) guide to plot our course through the tricky roads leading to the West End. Deanna alternately naps and stares out the window thinking--I have a feeling she is plotting her surprise visit tomorrow to a festival that Calexico is playing. And me? Well, of course I'm typing at this very moment but I am about to get back to reading a fine book called "Cardiff Dead" by John Williams with whom we stayed (along with wife/musician/our opening act Charlotte Grieg) when we were in none other than Cardiff last week. Seems to mix the pop culture of Nick Hornby with some of the moral humanism of George Pelecanos. That's my best attempt at being a critic for one day but I really do recommend you check out this book and (as I will be doing in the coming days) hunting down some of his other titles. A good weekend for shopping, in fact, as we have two days off in London after tonight's show. Oh man, might be a good time to cut up the credit cards.

7.04.02: Leaving Ireland

Man, I hate to type those two words. I really enjoyed my first visit to Ireland. Four days, four gigs, great beer, friendly people, beautiful vistas and green green green. The title of Emerald Isle is certainly accurate and like Seattle, for example, there is certainly enough rain to make such lush landscape possible. Enough rain to remind me that I have to get the soles replaced on my black boots of Spanish leather. Everybody apologized for the weather (oh, so YOU'RE the one who's responsible) but as it was a full 35 degrees cooler than the swamp box that is New York right now, I certainly have no reason to complain. Light rain and chilly nights are just fine with me.

And now it's the 4th of July. I always enjoyed the game/puzzle/wordtrick in which one asks 'Do other countries observe the 4th of July" and the answer is "Yes, of course. And the 3rd, 5th and 6th as well." But I don't think we're going to see any fireworks tonight in Swansea (Wales) so I guess we'll have to make some of our own.

7.03.02: Kilkenny

Playing acoustic music can be tricky business. You want full, rapt attention as the stories and nuances take center stage but at the same time you crave audience response and interaction, something to let you know that those very stories and nuances are actually having some kind of effect and not just inducing a temporary coma or providing background for internal ruminations over laundry, shopping lists and idle fantasies. The gig at Kilkenny's Cleere's Theater was the perfect blend--the properly lubricated audience laughing at all of the jokes (and even in the right places), shouting out a few requests and then falling under the hypnotic spell of the moment when necessary. Couldn't have been better and I celebrated with the locals after the show, eschewing the local Kilkenny beer for the equally appropriate shots of Jameson's Irish Whiskey. Anything was better than the horrifying Budweiser (have I just lost any chance of future endorsements?) that was inexplicably brewed right across the street. Scary. The tour is settling into a nice groove and we are resembling an actual band a little bit more with each show. The harmonies are pretty incredible, more elaborate than anything in which I've been involved in the past and I keep thinking that we're going to break into "Suite Judy Blue Eyes" at any moment. And we've moved passed the initial politeness and shyness and have begun telling tales and making jokes and interacting on stage. Just the right amount of humor, schtick, songcraft and drama. One more week on the road and the Songwriter Circle will most certainly be ready for Broadway.

7.02.02: The road to Kilkenny

I want to drive. Honestly. I really do WANT to drive but I am way too freaked out by the opposite side of the road driving of England and Ireland and that is why I hide in the back seat of the van, typing and napping and reading and watching the parade of cows, sheep and ducks. Walter has done the lion's share of the driving and has been pretty heroic, navigating roundabouts, traffic jams and tiny local roads that lead to other tiny local roads and finally other tiny local roads beyond that. He has suggested that THIS might be the right time for me to learn to drive on the left hand side of the road and he might be right except that as I watch from the back seat I keep thinking that every left turn we make is going to put right into oncoming traffic, holding my fingers over my eyes in terror until I realize that we are, in fact, heading into the proper lane and that I would have certainly chosen the wrong lane. In other words, maybe my apprenticeship of Enforced Driving Dyslexia probably should wait until....well, until never if you ask me. Just a little too scary. And too bad because I really do LOVE to drive. Really, I do.

Had a really good show at the Spirit Store in Dundalk last night and spent some time talking to a couple of guys from Northern Ireland who promised a Van Morrison/Astral Weeks of Belfast when I come on tour next year. Cypress Avenue, here I come.

7.01.02: Leaving Dublin

One of the skills that you learn over the years as a touring musician is the best way to see a new city in the minimum of time usually offered in the touring schedule. Most tour guides offer plans for Three-Day-Tours or Two-Day-Tours or at the least Half-Day-Tours but in the midst of the perpetual motion of the Rock and Roll Road Show you feel very fortunate to have even two hours for exploration and that was exactly my allotted time this morning on my first visit to Dublin. The best method is a combination of random choice, advice from others, a few glances into a tourist guide and just dumb luck and I think I did pretty well this morning as I managed to check out St Stephen's Green (watched the Ducks, circled the pond), the shopping stretch of Grafton Street (succumbed only to a quick lap at HMV), the Dublin Castle (one quick lap), Trinity College (became a stowaway on a tour of the Books of Kell) and the Temple Bar area (avoided the used record stores and the temptation for a pint of Guinness but did manage to cover most of the cobblestone streets). Even managed to sneak in a quick Irish Breakfast (no baked beans!) and a cursory glance at the USA Today for baseball scores. Not bad for 120 minutes.

Last night, of course, we weren't tourists but rather local employees--musicians in a town where EVERYONE is playing music. In fact, the smaller front bar of Wheelan's (where we played) featured a circle of singer/guitarists doing what seemed to be a more informal version of the Songwriter's Circle we were doing in the main room, though they seemed to be consuming much more beer and chain-smoking cigarettes. The show was good and more informal than the earlier sets we had played, each of veering away from the choices we had established in the first three nights. And later in the evening I found myself in the club's bar, drinking a Guinness and dancing to Irish punk-pop legends The Undertones, a fine bit of cultural tourism in itself.

6.30.02: The road to Dublin

Churches, architecture, fashion, music, museums and various historical landmarks are all good ways to learn about a country but I find one of the true barometers of What's Really Happening is a stroll through the snack section of any given gas station. If the US service stops mystify and amuse with their microwave burritos, beef jerkey, pork rinds and nachos (not to mention guns and ammo in the very special regions), it can be equally puzzling to ponder the potential delights of prawn sandwiches, savoury chicken tikka rolls (EVERYTHING seems to be 'savoury') and of course the ultimate junk food delight: The Scotch Egg. Yes, take a hard-boiled egg, dip it in batter and deep fry it! Just the thing that makes sense on a Sunday morning when we are battling minimal sleep and a race for the ferry that will take us to Dublin for tonight's show (my first ever in Ireland).

Last night's show in Cardiff was my first in Wales. And if this show was any indication I am hoping to make this a regular stop for future tours. We were cheered on lovingly by enthusiastic fans who were rewarded by giddy banter, tour-highlight (as of yet) performances and my first broken string of the tour (an 'A' string for the statisticians out there). The very talented Charlotte Grieg opened the show and then invited us all to stay with her and her husband, novelist John Williams. John blew me away by putting on the Soul Jazz compilation 'Studio One Soul,' one of my favorite compilations of recent years and that began a night of conversation, beer, cheese and a very friendly black cat which seemed really pleased to be repeatedly crossing my path.

Look! Cows! They're MAD! Hey, you mad cows, would you like a Scotch Egg?

6.29.02: Somewhere near Gatwick

We're on a gravel road that is seemingly in the middle of nowhere (though I know we're only a few miles from London's Gatwick Airport) switching our seat-challenged cargo van for a passenger van with enough seats for a small orchestra. Our ranks have grown to five as Walter's girlfriend Tanya is now with us, selling merchandise and increasing the percentage of New Yorkers in the entourage (60% at this point). The cargo van was an internet glitch, a rental-car oversight that had us trading spots in the back with the luggage (me and Robert today), trading road stories and personal anecdotes while wedged between suitcases and boxes of CDs. A little uncomfortable but also the rugged challenge of being in the trenches preparing for the big battle. "Soldiers, some of us may not make it out alive, but...." You get the picture.

But now we are all in a position to check out the British countryside in style as we make our way to Cardiff for my first time ever in Wales. Pretty excited about the opportunity for new cities, fans and experiences and indeed most of the towns on this Songwriter Circle tour are new for me. Last night, for example, was my first visit to Winchester and a fine night it was. Good crowd, very receptive to the song/spotlight swapping jamboree and each of us played several songs that we hadn't played the night before (I tried out 'Carry a Torch' for the first time in a while and Deanna, Walter and Robert added exquisite harmonies). The show was over two hours, a full 30 minutes longer than the Brighton show which means that by the time we play the last show in Birmingham we should be up to a seven or eight hour show. wow. be sure to bring snacks.

6.27.02: Brighton

Outside on the beach the tourists begin to battle for umbrellas, deck chairs and prime spots on the rocky beach of Brighton, England (as opposed to the Brighton Beach that is only one F-train ride from my home in Manhattan). I have been searching for Mods and Rockers and Vespas and Ace Faces that I associate with this city due to a childhood infatuation with the Who’s ‘Quadrophenia’ but have only found rock candy, kebabs and a theater down the street that will be presenting Andy Williams (what could be more Mod?) this Saturday.

But inside this seaside hotel the halls are most certainly alive with the sound of music as the Songwriter Circle tour is about to begin. I will be traveling around England, Ireland and Scotland for the next 18 days with Robert Fisher (Willard Grant Conspiracy), Walter Salas-Humara (Silos) and Deanna Varagona (Lampchop) and we will take the stage together each night, playing various acoustic instruments (and one electric guitar that I smuggled into our Hootenanny to simulate Newport ‘65) and trading songs, stories, all the while transforming ourselves into stellar backing band for each other throughout the evening.

Yesterday was our first rehearsal after arriving from New York (Walter and myself), Chicago (Deanna) and Boston (Robert) and I can tell you that it’s going to be a pretty exciting tour both on and off-stage. So keep watching this space for details, anecdotes and maybe even a You-Are-There mp3 before the tour is over. In the meantime, I’ll reserve a spot for you on the beach.

6.26.02: The road to Winchester

If the beaches of Brighton kept placing the Who's Quadrophenia (RIP John Entwhistle) at the center of my mental soundtrack it seems that our approach to Winchester is making it impossible to escape the melody of that silly Winchester Cathedral song that is bouncing like my head like a lazy pinball on one of those broken-down machines I saw on the pier yesterday. (wait! pinball...PINBALL WIZARD! now I have a new song in my head, thank you very much).

Last night was the first show of the tour and I think all of were surprised and delighted at how much we are already sounding like a BAND. I found myself juggling between harmonica, acoustic and electric guitar, feeling somewhat like one of those well-dressed tropical parakeets at a bird show. (Ring the bell! Here's a cracker!) I haven't had much recent experience at backing other people on their material but I enjoyed learning and playing the songs of Walter, Deanna and Robert and they certainly did justice to my tunes (including 'My Old Haunts' which I hadn't played in a few years). There were fans there from Spain, Germany, the US, other parts of the UK and even Brighton (hi Jordan!) so it seems the traveling roadshow is well underway. Tomorrow we move on to Cardiff which, I believe, has no identifying song or soundtrack.

3.27.02: Austin

Staring out my hotel window, watching the river and the occasional rowing team drift by and pretty sure that it must be a sunny day. We're in the second of two consecutive days here in Austin and that is a rare luxury on tour. Time to catch up sleep, correspondence and a chance to check out the town which is what I did yesterday when I made a beeline for Las Manitas, one of my favorite Mexican breakfast spots in the country. They do some amazing things with tortillas, eggs, beans, cheese and salsa and as I hadn't been here for four years I was pretty excited about getting my fill of the wondrous delights. Sadly, they were no longer serving breakfast when I got there at noon (breakfast finished at 11:30am??? have they gone mad?) but I 'settled' for the Al Pastor (marinated pork for those of you not in the know) plate and all was good in the world, or at least here deep in the heart of Texas.

The rest of the day was spent recording a hotel-room version of Johnny Cash's 'Long Black Veil' with Jim and Johnette. A little bit like the modern-day version of Alan Lomax capturing Leadbelly or Robert Johnson, I suppose, but these days the 'field recordings' involve a Mac laptop, ProTools software, amp simulators and (for authenticity) a couple of acoustic guitars. I even did a percussion overdub that was played on a quarter-full bag of pretzels so it was a nice mix of the high-tech and lo-fi. Johnette is mixing it today and it should be up on this very site in a day or two.

The last show seems like a long time ago but it was only 60 hours in the rearview mirror. We played the Blue Note in Columbia, Missouri and entertained an audience that hadn't chosen to stay home and watch the Oscars. We, however, did keep running back to the bus to catch the latest awards and hoopla whenever possible and Jim even managed to send information to me via my monitors (I though I had gone nuts--usually the monitors don't say things like 'Best Technical Achievement: Black Hawk Down' even AFTER weeks on the road). I rewarded those closest to the stage with bite-size Snickers bars and let that be a lesson to those of you who hide near the back of the clubs. You lurk in the shadows and you don't get candy.

3.24.02: In the bus

Well, this is about as rock and roll as it gets. I am on a tour bus driving across Missouri while we watch a movie ABOUT rock and roll ('Almost Famous'). The front lounge is scattered with artifacts from different eras of touring musicians. There are bottles of wine and tequila here andthere but also several laptop computers, cellular phones, walkie-talkies and a full entertainment center with stereo, TV and DVD player. My eyes keep drifting to the bag of mini-Snickers candy bars and the Planter's mixedn uts that sit alongside (do not worry, dear readers, this isNOT an endorsement and there is no kickback for product placement). But I will not relent to any of these temptations(and, thus, this ISN'T as rock and roll as it gets) as my fingers are glued to this keyboard so that I can transmit this report to you.

I am in the midst of a two-week tour opening for ConcreteBlonde. I am the stowaway, the court jester, the folksinger who along with my trusty Takemine guitar is given the chance to sing songs, tell a few tales andc onquer the nightly challenge that is specific to the opening act. Make friends, make converts, challenge the sensibilities, raise a cloud of dust and disappear into then ight. So far we have been in Boise, Aspen, Denver,Lincoln, Kansas City and St. Louis. All cities that I rarely play and yet there have been many fans of my music each night, shouting out the occasional 'John Coltrane Stereo Blues' or 'Carolyn' in the midst of the confusedf aces that gradually turn into acceptance and then some kind of love.

I have toured on a tour bus a few times before. The first time was when the rapidly rising U2 allowed the rookie sensation Dream Syndicate to take over their bus on a drive from Minneapolis to Vancouver while they opted for a direct flight. We did what all bands are expected to do ontheir first bus trip--eat junk food, drink beer and watch Cheech and Chong movies late into the night. The next time was on the Medicine Show tour in which we opened for REM. This tour was as close to Rock and Roll Babylon as it gets and I leave the details to your imagination. And then, finally, I had a return to the giant rolling womb when I toured with Pretty and Twisted (side project of CB leader Johnette Napolitano) in the mid-90s. And now I have mylatest escape from the van and into, yes, The Life.

Our driver Rick is up front playing some hip-hop CD that I don't recognize. a few days ago it was Southern Rock and before that it was 80s New Wave hits. Pretty eclectic guy, that Rick. He generally drives all night long as we
typically leave town after the show and make the six or seven hour drive to the next town, the drive usually culminating shortly after sunrise. Then there is Kim, the tour manager, who was also at the helm on the Pretty and Twisted tour. She hails from the outskirts of Liverpool and is currently engrossed by a video showing of a movie called 'Eat the Rich' which stars Lemmy of Motorhead, another band she worked with often in the past. Hey, if you can tour manage Lemmy you can tour manage anyone.

To my right is soundman Felix. He went to Fairfax High School in Los Angeles, a school whose alumnus also includes Herb Alpert, Phil Spector and my Mother (Hi Ma!). Across from me is Tommy who sells CDs and T-Shirts and also maintains the official Concrete Blonde website (www.concreteblonde.org). He is currently downloading photos from last night's gig to place up on the site. And then there's Tim who does the monitors and does a fine job each night in giving me the perfect on-stage sound and allowing me to feel like a sonic giant ready to stand up against the multitudes. And finally there's Matt who began the tour as the lighting engineer but took over as drummer a few nights ago when CB drummer Harry Rushakoff just didn't show up for the gig. Yeah, that's right. Harry never returned and Matt is starring in a real-life heroic hollywood story (I'm guessing he'll be played by Tom Hanks in the biopic) in which he has stepped up to the plate (or 'throne' as drummer like to say) to keep the tour moving.

Then there's Jim Mankey who not only cofounded the tour with Johnette but was also a founding member of Sparks, one of the top fave bands of my youth. Great guy, great guitarist, lover of crossword puzzles AND playing the very Stratocaster that was used on the recording of the Medicine Show album. no kidding! he bought it from us way back when and has used it ever since. And last night when I broke a string (first time this tour) he allowed me to play it while he changed my string. And I found myself in front of 1000 people in St Louis, playing 'Burn' on the very guitar with which the song was recorded. wow! the Strat seemed to remember the chords, thankfully.

And Johnette, of course, has been a longtime friend and collaborator. You've heard her on various Dream Syndicate albums and solo albums over my various years. "I Have Faith," "Dying Embers" "Let It Rain" "Conspiracy of the Heart" "Bonnie and Clyde" "Last House on the Right" as well as her own cover of "When You Smile" and our duet on Nick Cave's "The Ship Song." We do one or both of the last two songs mentioned each night for their encore. The last time we were on tour together she brought her beloved Chihuahua Cheech, who bit my hand on the last night of the tour. Love the dog, miss the dog but my hands remain unmarked so that's fine.

Right now we're on our way to Columbia, Missouri for tonight's show at the Blue Note, where I have played many times before. We will be playing at the same time as the Oscars, probably not a conflict for the many fans of good music who will come out to the show but DAMN, I love the pageantry and guilty thrills of the Academy Awards (what can I say?) and will probably sneak out to the bus at regular intervals (not during my set, of course) to catch some highlights.

And as I have had several requests to resume the tour diary consider this the first part in regular installments to continue from this point on. Stay tuned and, in the meantime, it's time for a movie and some candy.