12.06.06: New York City

Welcome to Guitar Geek Heaven. I spent the day today at the Gibson Guitar rehearsal studios on 54th Street where my friends Joe Hurley and James Mastro were preparing for a gig at the Cutting Room on Friday. I'm going to join them for a few songs that I wrote with Joe as well as an interesting cover tune or two. Nothing strange about any of that. One of the joys about living in New York is that you always end up stopping by at someone's gig to toss in your sonic two cents before blending back into the audience. And the price that you pay for such apparent spontaneity is usually 15 or 20 minutes at somebody's dark, dank rehearsal room where you watch fingers, mirror the moves and hope to commit the whole thing to memory.

I figured that I would do just that today-drop by the rehearsal room, learn a few tunes and be out in time to look for trouble in Midtown Manhattan. But when I got to the Gibson rehearsal room I realized that it had been built on the site of the old Hit Factory studios, the site of recordings by John Lennon, Bruce Springsteen, the Rolling Stones and many others. Not only was our rehearsal room the same room where "Born To Run" was recorded, but it was also lined wall to wall with about a hundred Gibson guitars-SGs, Les Paul's, ES335's and more, all meant to be picked up, strummed and drooled over. It was a Wonka-esque moment for a guitarist and I ended up spending four hours with Joe and Jim, developing a schoolboy crush on a deep red Les Paul Custom. Santa, if you can build a chimney in my apartment, please find a way to put one of these things into my living room, would you?

Speaking of Santa, one of the more surreal moments of late happened midway through Tim Lee's set at our gig at The Earl in Atlanta last weekend. I was hanging out in the back of the room, checking out Tim and band's fine, fine set when all of a sudden, Santa Claus came into the club and walked up to the bar. I nudged Dave and told him that we had a celebrity in the room. He laughed until moments later when about ONE HUNDRED SANTAS CAME INTO THE ROOM, close followed by about 50 women dressed as various Santa's helpers. They hung out, watched some music and then went on to the next bar where the apparent Santa Bar Crawl was to continue. I tell you-the South is a pretty crazy place.

12.01.06: New York City

I was just reading back over the last few diary entries. Man, that was a long time ago. And even more important-who WAS that guy who wrote those things? All that complaining and fretting about broken ankles and torn ligaments-it couldn't have been me. I'm walking around just fine and, in fact, just finished running a marathon just a few days after some vigorous rock climbing and I'm getting ready for a cliff-diving expedition this weekend in Guadalajara. Okay, I'm just kidding about the last few things but I am truly much better and walking around New York with the same reckless abandon that messed me up in the first place. I've got to remember to slow down. But slowing down doesn't seem to be the order of the day right now as I find myself deep into various phases of four different recording projects. Let's see.... ...TICK...TICK...TICK 15 months and over 100 shows since the release of this record, we'll be playing the final shows of the year this weekend in Atlanta and Raleigh. Jason, Dave, Linda and I have done a handful of shows in the last month as I tested out my mobility and the band tested out the limits of our musical parameters. In fact, the last song we played together was a marathon version of "John Coltrane Stereo Blues" in Cleveland with the Marianne Friend from the Rainy Day Saints on sax. Now, I've played this song about 1000 times but this might have been one of the wildest and most unpredictable versions. I think you can hear it on www.archive.com. DANNY & DUSTY-Yep, 22 years after our last record together, Dan and I have been writing new songs and will be going down to Richmond next week to make a new album We'll be recording with old friends Chris Cacavas, Stephen McCarthy, Bob Rupe and Johnny Hott. JD Foster will be producing and Bruce Olsen will be turning the knobs. We have 15 songs, some of which pick up where The Lost Weekend left off and others that reflect everything we've done, learned, experienced and forgotten since then. It will be coming out on Blue Rose in March and I'll be sending out stories from the session so stay tuned. SMACK DAB-Linda and I went down to Andalucia afew summers ago for a vacation with our friend Paco Loco (and his wife Muni) and came back with 10 new songs and a new record. You should check out the MySpace page (www.myspace.com/smackdabspain) . We've already played a few shows in Madrid and Barcelona and the CD will be coming out in March in Spain on Houston Party Records and soon after that in the rest of the world. TEENAGE PRAYERS---You've probably heard me raving about this amazing NYC band ever since they opened up for us in town a few years ago. They're easily my favorite local band (you can check out their MySpace page as well) and I'm really honored that they've asked me to produce their 2nd album which we've been working on over the last few months. They mix art-rock, Memphis soul and Indie Rock in a way that would have made them arena superstars when I was in 10th grade. Let's hope that the same type of fate awaits them when the record comes out next year. And that's it. Really. But you can consider the above topics all parts of the same soap opera or as subplots in a movie by Robert Altman (RIP) and I'll be your own personal tell-all gossip columnist about all of the action in the coming weeks. But, first, here are some things that have thrilled me in the last few months: BOB DYLAN at the Manhattan City Center (concert) PULLED PORK SANDWICH at Daisy Mae's (NYC barbecue) DIAMOND STAR HIGHWAY-Rainy Day Saints (CD) GOODBYE BABYLON (Gospel box set) NOVEMBER 7, 2006 (US elections) BABEL (movie) LET IT DIE-Feist (CD) Oh, I know there's more but I'll save that for the next one. Gotta pack for Atlanta

9.21.06: New York City

This one goes out to the people reading this on the MySpace page. I've got to get something off my chest. I understand punctuation. I use punctuation. I love punctuation. Some of my best friends are punctuated. So when you look at these diary things up on MySpace, PLEASE don't even begin to think that I don't get or support this punctuation thing. I just can't figure out how to keep the Lords Of MySpace (and that would be Rupert Murdoch and his henchmen, I hear) from stealing my apostrophes. Are they selling them on the black market? The people have a right to know.

There! Now I feel better.

I've been out to a couple of clubs this week and found out that Webster Hall and Bowery Ballroom, two otherwise great NYC venues, do not have elevators. I don't know how they get giant soundboards, cases of beers and NFL defensive backs to the balcony seats but I can tell you that I have mastered the fine art of getting to the tops of multiple flights of stairs on crutches. Going down is another story. All I can tell you is that my good friend and producer/mixer supreme John Agnello (check out his work on the upcoming Hold Steady record) actually LOST in a downstairs butt slide race from the top floor of Webster Hall.

Some things that have brought amusement in recent days/hours:

FLORIDA ROAD KILL-Tim Dorsey (book-thanks, Larry)
HOUSE (TV show)
CARMINE'S (NYC Italian restaurant)
WWW.SOUL-SIDES.COM (website)
WWW.OFFICENAPS.COM (website)
SPARKLEHORSE (live at Bowery Ballroom)
FRANK RICH (guest on Stephen Colbert show)
YANKEES CLINCH THEIR DIVISION (baseball)
"CLUMSY"-Fergie (CD track-I'm not kidding)
TIM O' REGAN (live at Bowery Ballroom)
THE OFFICE (TV season premiere)
HAND TO MOUTH; A CHRONICLE OF EARLY FAILURE-Paul Auster (book)


Well, that's it. I'm out of here. Which isn't to say "Im" out of here. Like "Instant Message" out of here. No, like "I am" out of here. Damn punctuation!

9.17.06: New York City

I've got no problems with Dylan borrowing several of the lyrics for his new "Modern Times" album from some Confederate Civil War poet. The man's been borrowing and stealing for years and that's one of the things I like about him-good taste, audacity and obscure references are parts of many of my favorite creative works (i.e. "Kill Bill, pts 1 and 2" which I watched last night for the third or fourth time). Heck, I'm stealing every word of this very blog entry from a Zulu physicist from the early 20s. Every word-you can look it up. Even the last sentence. He wrote the whole thing

On the other hand, I wish I liked the new Dylan album a little more. I mean, it's fine. It's got a breezy, lived-in old-timey feeling and would make a perfectly good Leon Redbone record. There are some pretty saucy lyrics here and there and his current band is his second best band of the 21st Century, which is to say that they're not NEARLY as good as the band that recorded "Love And Theft," one of my favorite Dylan albums ever. I'll probably grow to like it a little more over time and it's better than, say, "Under The Red Sky" or "Knocked Out Loaded" but not as good as "Self Portrait," a really underrated and bizarre album

Actually, the best new Dylan material of 2006 would be his "Theme Time Radio Hour" shows for XM Radio. My buddy Kenzo out in California sent me a couple of the shows (thanks, Kenzo-uh, got any more?) and they're the best thing I've heard in months. The themes of the two shows that I have are "Drinking" and "Baseball" and the commentary, song choices, bad jokes and arcane facts are all compelling. Again, it's from another time and place and, once again, I keep thinking that Leon Redbone would be happy (is he still alive?) but it works in this format. I don't have XM Radio. I don't even have a car. But I'll be trying to track down more of these shows.

And the ankle? Doing just fine, thanks. It changes colors every day like a five-toed mood ring and I'm getting pretty slick with the crutches. And it looks nothing like that photo shown elsewhere on the myspace page. I have to get rid of that one especially after I was told that it was responsible for one person losing their breakfast this morning. It's such a shame to waste good food.

9.07.06: New York City

First of all, thanks to all of you out there who have been sending/posting such kind emails and messages in all of the various places. Oh, and thanks for the various gifts as well-I don't exactly know where I'm going to KEEP that herd of livestock and I'm not quite sure that I won't be billed for the in-house performance of "Cats" but I'll have to guess that everything will work out.

Turns out that most of you have broken something or other at some point in your life and I feel like a charlatan for having to be the Reluctant Couch Potato (my new film-check it out) for a bit of slapstick near Rockefeller Center. My voice is finally back and seems pretty much in keeping with what I had before. I am learning various impressive stork moves as I learn to do all kinds of thing with one leg (or three, if you count the crutches)

But it's weird to be back in New York. When I was in Los Angeles, everything felt like a vacation. I was embracing my inner slacker (but didn't squeeze too tightly) by sitting on my mother's couch, watching TV and reading back issues of Premiere (she's a movie nut). It all seemed to make sense. This was an Unintentional Vacation (the sequel to the film mentioned above) and there wasn't much else to do. Now I'm back home and the apartment feels like a veritable Las Vegas Strip of suggested neon signs: PLAY ME! MOVE ME! CLEAN ME! TAKE ME ACROSS TOWN TO SOME OBSCURE MIDTOWN STORE! The temptation was avoided last night by watching "An Unmarried Woman" which offered a glimpse of New York City in 1977, a New York that I could do nothing about.

On the other hand, I'm already planning shows and recording sessions for the next six months so please consider me the Ambitious Optimist (the final movie in the trilogy) and someone who is going to be very happy to be holding a Fender guitar and doing his best not to stumble as he moves across the stage.

9.04.06: Los Angeles

I'm glad I paid attention during those typing classes in junior high school. I can generally type faster than I talk and if you've spent any time with me you'll know that means I can type pretty quickly. That skill is coming in handy right now as I've been mute for the last 72 hours. Yep, silent. Sans voice. No words.

I was beginning to think this surgery thing was no big deal. Some very potent cocktails were leaked into my body via the IV and I went under for the slice-and-dice session. Next thing I know I'm being fed ice chips by a nurse named Laurie and I'm sure I babbled all kinds of incoherencies. I came home and watched a taping of the Emmy Awards on vidodin and demerol which was a perfect state to watch an awards show. In the two days that followed I got pretty quick with the crutches, moved up and down the stairs like a homebound triathlete and even dug into an amazing carnitas burrito on Thursday afternoon at Tacos Por Favor (Olympic and 14th)

And then everything went wrong.

I lost my voice and my throat began to feel as though somebody had been force feeding me a shattered glass and sandpaper sandwich (quick delicious if properly prepared). The broken ankle and canceled gigs had been a bitter pill to swallow but suddenly EVERYTHING was tough to swallow. I later found out that this is a common result of the tube that is stuck down your throat while knocked out during surgery. Something gets irritated back there and you just gotta tough it out until it heals.

I had been looking forward to testing out my crutches on the streets of Santa Monica and seeing old friends, snacks in hand and leg raised up high (circulation, my friends, it's all about circulation). Instead, I've been housebound, enjoying the moments when my voice rose to the volume of Marlon Brando in the "Godfather" hospital scenes, Linda playing Michael Corleone to my Vito. Instead, I have found myself hunting for various shades of distraction

FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME (weak but diverting Kevin Costner baseball movie)
SATURDAY-Ian McEwan
THE LAST 62 MINUTES OF "BEETLEJUICE"
OLD EPISODES OF "ENTOURAGE," "THE OFFICE" AND "CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM"
SUNDAY EDITIONS OF LA TIMES AND NEW YORK TIMES (compare and contrast)
MTV VIDEO AWARDS (highlight: Raconteurs backing Lou Reed)
A LITTLE TOO MUCH TIME ON MYSPACE, YOUTUBE AND MLB.COM
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SPECIAL ON SAN QUENTIN PRISON

And that's about it. Spirited debates, speed skating, hot dog eating contests, three hour concerts and choreographed rock videos on Stairmasters will have to wait for just a few more weeks

8.30.06: Los Angeles

I was being wheeled on the gurney into the operating room at St John's Hospital in Santa Monica (where, incidentally, I was born 46 years, six months and 9 days ago). I was doing my best to be stoic and focused. I was waiting for the knockout drugs to be pumped into my IV. I was waiting for sweet oblivion, a few slices, a little Home Depot work to be done on my ankle and then the road to recovery (the fourth Hope/Crosby film, I believe).

All of these things were dancing in my soon-to-be medicated head when Roger, the anesthesiologist wheeling me from the left said "Are you Steve Wynn from The Dream Syndicate? I just wanted to tell you that I'm a big fan. I have almost all of your records even that first 15 Minutes single. Did you really throw them all off the Santa Monica Pier? What's Karl Precoda doing these days? Do you ever hear from Kendra?"

I reached and mussed my hair into place and looked down to make sure my blue hospital gown was fitting me properly. Don't these things ever come in black?

Nice guy, that Roger. And in our 147 seconds together I tried to answer all of his questions. By that time I had reached the surgery room and was pumped with all the good stuff. I'm told I was very talkative in the minutes that followed up until I was completely out. I can't even imagine what I said but I'll have to wait and see when Roger's book shows up on Amazon. At least my anesthesiologist wasn't Kitty Kelly. Actually, I seem to remember a similar scene from Woody Allen's "Stardust Memories" Have you seen that one? One of my favorites.

But I digress. I'm allowed to digress. I'm expected to digress. I'm pumped full of Vicodin which is digression in pill form. It's doing a good job. I'm not feeling much pain but my mind is still intact enough to write this diary entry coherently. This is coherent, right? I have no idea and I intend to send it before the pills wear off. If I see this tomorrow and it reads like Syd Barrett (RIP) singing the works of Aldous Huxley I might think differently.

Fish. Moon. Tarantula. Hollandaise sauce upon a marshmallow pillow of stars

Oops, it just kicked in.

But the surgery went well. I asked the doctor how long it would be until I could run the marathon and he said "I don't see any reason why it should be any longer than two or three months" to which I replied, "that's great! I never could run the damn thing before."

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I'll be appearing here all week.

8.28.06: Los Angeles

It was two days before my surgery and despite hobbling on crutches and an ankle the size of Rhode Island, I insisted on going to the House of Blues to see Linda play with Marty Willson-Piper at the Rickenbacker presents 75 Years of The Electric Guitar extravaganza. Hey, why not? It was a golden opportunity to do further damage. I was going to get cut up up in 48 hours anyway, why not give them something good to work on.

Seriously, I was careful. And I've gotten pretty good with these crutches, almost as agile as Ratso Rizzo in "Midnight Cowboy." Steve be nimble, Steve be quick, Steve fall down like a ton of bricks.

And I wasn't about to miss what promised to be a very surreal evening. The bill contained old pals like the Minus 5 (with special guest Mike Mills), the Smithereens and Susannah Hoffs/Matthew Sweet alongside blasts from the past like Billy Hinsche (as in Dino, Desi and….), Chris Squire and Paul Kantner.

Linda, of course, rocked the house as she provided the backbeat to Marty and his Mood Maidens (all female band from around the world). The Minus 5 played a great set and I kept wishing I could be up there with them. I hadn't seen the Smithereens in years and from the opening minute of "Only A Memory" I remembered how many great songs Pat Dinizio has written over the years. I remember driving up Interstate 5 in 1986 and hearing "Blood And Roses" on the radio and thinking it was me. Next up was Susannah and Matthew who played a parade of 60s classics.

And then things got very weird. I was prepared to set my kitsch meter to "HIGH" for the sets by Squire (bass player from Yes, in case you missed the 70s prog movement) and Paul Kantner (Jeffersons Starship and Airplane) but these sets had me glued to my chair. Well, with a broken ankle and crutches I would have been pretty much glued to my chair for a Maroon 5/Jessica Simpson duet. But the former's versions of "Your Move" and "Roundabout" had me regressing to my 16-year old self, wondering if there was any gas left in the Gremlin and if Pete Rose would win the batting title. And then I found myself in the company of Linda, Mike M, Peter Buck, Scott McCoughey and a few other friends, our collective jaws dropping to the shockingly good set by Paul Kantner. I think he had David Freiburg on backing vocals and their version of "Wooden Ships" was worthy of a Fillmore West flashback.

The show was over. It was 2am, a time at which most of LA would normally be rolling up the sidewalks but this night was different. This was a holiday bigger than Christmas, Easter and Flag Day rolled into one. This was the post-Emmy celebration and there was a throng of C-listers doing their best to get into the House of Blues for the post-show party that was rumored to be entertained by a Prince set. Enticing but I was more interested in getting back to our room at the Hyatt (c.f. the "Hammer of the Gods" rock and roll Hyatt from many a 70s night of excess and TV tossing). Linda and I were stopped on the street by a guy who offered me $100 and a part in his movie if I could get him into the venue. I had already tossed out my backstage pass and couldn't figure out why he thought that this guy on crutches could get him in. Maybe he thought I was Dustin Hoffman

8.26.06: Los Angeles

The shows in Los Angeles and Tucson this week have been cancelled. Oh, I hate to type those words. But I also hate to look down my leg at the swollen, purplish (with bits of black) thing that I used to call my ankle and know that I won't be doing much of anything for the next two months.

Let me take you back about 48 hours. It was 2pm and a beautiful day in New York City. I had just had lunch with some radio producers who are planning a very big promotional push on behalf of the EP I made with George Pelecanos last month. I was feeling pretty excited about the whole thing and indulging in a bit of Summer Tourist Sidewalk Slalom, the Olympic event in which you try to glide through the throngs of NYC visitors at peak midtown hours without breaking stride. You zig, you zag, you move up stairs and back down again and I had just made my way up a few steps and was heading down to the intersection of 54th and 6th when my right leg stubbornly took hold on the top of three steps while the rest of my body tumbled to the lowest level. I think that my right foot followed eventually but it was no longer talking to me. Six or seven people (were they locals? Tourists?) stopped to offer assistance so it must have looked pretty bad. But I was stoic and dragged myself to a cab and went home.

I'm a lucky guy. I've never broken a bone before and didn't have much of a gauge of how such a thing would feel. Sure, I was sore. Sure, I could barely make my way from my living room couch to my kitchen. Sure, each step brought a whole new mix-and-match invention of curses and newly invented words for pain and annoyance. But I had always been told that when you break a bone you KNOW you've broken a bone and I didn't feel that kind of certainty. And I had a flight to LA the next day and didn't want to even consider having to miss the flight, trip or the gigs that were going to follow.

I took a handful of Advil and waited.

The next morning I felt a little better. I could move the foot forward rather than drag it from side to side like a rag doll that had been stuck to my shoe like an old piece of gum (that would be a double metaphor…100 points!) Linda and I went to the airport and I walked all the way to the gate and about halfway along the way began to suspect that I had made some kind of mistake. The pain was hitting new levels and I was glad when I got to my seat on the plane. I was a little less glad when I went ot a doctor in LA and took off my shoe and saw the aforementioned post-Cubist artwork that had been my foot. X-rays were taken and, sure enough, I had a fracture of the fibula and torn ligaments. My bone looked a little like Dave DeCastro's Rickenbacker bass neck after it had been broken on a Ryan Air flight in 2004, just sliced neatly along the bone and ready for someone to make a wish.

And it looks like I'm going in for surgery on Tuesday. I'll have a metal plate and pins in my ankle and I'll have lots of stories to tell every time I pass security in airports. And when I asked my doctor if I could still go and play the shows at the Silverlake Lounge and Congress Hotel (sitting down like an old bluesman, of course) he seemed like he couldn't decide whether ot laugh or slap me silly. In other words, I was forbidden to drag my pins and plates out to a rock club.

Needless to say, I apologize to everyone who was planning on seeing those shows. I'll make it back again soon and I'll be just a little bit more metal and slightly more heavy than ever before. And I'll certainly have more time on my hands in the coming weeks so expect stories of my recent session as producer for the new Teenage Prayers record and other rants, raves, picks and pans. But for now, I've got to figure out how to use these crutches.

8.10.06: New York City

At some point around 10pm I found myself on stage at the Magnetic Field in Brooklyn singing "Shake Some Action" (and two other Flaming Groovies songs) with local rock club impresario Todd Abramson and backed by Linda, Dave, Chris Brokaw, Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley to a handful of people that included Dan Stuart and George Pelecanos. This is not the scenario I expected when I was asked to provide backing to George at a reading on the day of the release of his fine new book "The Night Gardener." This was a literary event, a book signing, an actual reading. I wore my best slacks and a matching sports coat and looked forward to an elevated evening of class and sophistication. .

And, in fact, it was quite different than the usual rock gig. For one, there were BOOKS at the merch table. And they were selling like veritable books about hotcakes. That's good news. "The Night Gardener" is a great book, one of the best George has ever written-and that's saying a lot. The three-song EP that George put together to showcase the work we have done together includes a previously unreleased track of him reading the first chapter of the new book over some of my music and that was the piece we performed together on Tuesday. The band was myself, Dave DeCastro, Linda Pitmon, Chris Brokaw and keyboardist Fil Krohnenfeld and we grooved, improvised, jabbed and weaved not only with each other but with George as well and I was really excited to see how much he got into the spirit of the jazz/beatnik improvisation. He was giving back what he got and tossed off grooves and riffs with his words like a literary Coltrane or Charlie Parker. This experience was NEW and NEW things always excite me so I'd have to say that the 15 minutes of the Pelecanos/Wynn mashup was my favorite part of the evening although that Groovies jam was pretty momentous and sounded almost rehearsed. Then again, that might have been the result of the all-night happy hour.

Big massive grateful shout-outs to Donna DeChristopher and Dan Perloff for bringing some amazing CDs to my show at McCabe's. And, with that, here are some of my current favorite things (speaking of Coltrane):


STAX PROFILES-Booker T and the MGs (CD compiled by Elvis Costello)
PIRATE RADIO-The Pretenders (CD/DVD box set)
ENTOURAGE (TV show)
THE 'GRACE' SCENE IN "TALLADEGA NIGHTS" (movie)
BECK-OLA-Jeff Beck Group (CD reissue)
RATHER RIPPED-Sonic Youth
THE YANKEES ACQUISITION OF BOBBY ABREU (baseball)
TACOS POR FAVOR (Santa Monica taqueria)
THE NIGHT GARDENER-George Pelecanos (book)
TAKING TIGER MOUNTAIN BY STRATEGY-Doug Hilsinger with Caroleen Beatty

8.04.06: Delta Flight 667 to JFK

Welcome to Flight Sign Of The Beast Plus One. It's always good to stay one step ahead of the devil and I'm feeling like the luckiest man in the world having (1) been bought a Jack Daniels on the rocks by the guy sitting next to me (he had a bunch of free coupons so I didn't ponder his intentions) and (2) having somehow dodged deadly heat waves in both LA and New York. Oh, and there's #3-I managed to cover the last 25 years of record-making, reunite the Dream Syndicate, play 23 songs and live to tell the story.

You can check my last diary entry for the pre-story. In some ways it was really no big deal. Paul, Mark, Dennis and I have remained friends all these years and I have actually toured several times with all but Paul since the band broke up. The four of us hadn't played most of these songs together since 1988 but I had been playing almost all of them regularly ever since. And the set was just one half of a show where I played solo acoustic and also with more recent collaborators like Duane Jarvis, Robert Fisher and Kirk Swan.

But even though I have sat across tables of Negro Modelas and tortilla chips for hours of conversation with my old friends, there was something exciting about showing up for four hours of rehearsal at our old haunts, Uncle Studios in Van Nuys (formerly owned by Mark and now owned and run by his brother Scott) and telling stories, jokes and occasionally going over the songs. And there was something very familiar but also surreal about being on stage and looking to my left and right and seeing the friends with whom I had criss-crossed the globe from 1985 to 1988. It felt loose and tight at the same time. It felt intense and also very funny. Just like the old days. My favorite moments were the versions of "Someplace Better Than This," "Merrittville," "Weathered and Torn" and "John Coltrane Stereo Blues." You can find the whole thing at a live music website mentioned somewhere else on this site.

I wonder if I'm supposed to talk to the guy who bought me the drink. He's typing as well (HIS tour diary?) and I've got Planet Waves on the headphones so I think we're all okay. I'm armed with the new Uncut, a Lawrence Block novel, today's New York Times and my iPod so this flight is going to pass very quickly. Oh, and I'm going to try and do these diary things more often so expect stories of next Tuesday's Brooklyn gig with George Pelecanos, the Congress Hotel anniversary party and other musings in the coming days and weeks.

7.12.06: New York City

Well, the rumors are true. What had begun as a casual McCabe's acoustic set to tie into my Summer visit to Los Angeles has turned into a Dream Syndicate reunion of sorts. On July 28 at the tiny acoustic venue on Pico Boulevard, Paul B. Cutler, Mark Walton, Dennis Duck and I will play together for the first time since 1991. It's not all that surprising since we were all friends when the band split up and have remained good pals ever since. But it also came about in a happenstance way. I had booked the show as a "Steve Wynn And Friends" show without really knowing who the "friends" would be. I had various ideas and had contacted all of the usual suspects and then I had the idea to check in with Paul who has been telling me about his enthusiasm for the skills he had developed on his Spanish acoustic guitar in recent years. I asked if he'd be willing to do some songs with me and he enthusiastically said "yes." Well, that got the ball rolling since I knew that Mark had moved to Las Vegas in the wake of the Katrina disaster in New Orleans. I've been missing him and invited him along as well. Another yes. At this point it only made sense to ask Dennis as well and despite having booked a Human Hands show in Hollywood the same night, he was able to do some juggling and said yes as well.

The show won't be a recreation of what we were doing in the four years we recorded and toured together. Paul and I will be playing acoustic guitars and the volume will certainly be correspondingly reduced from the rhythm section as well. But we'll be playing many of our favorites songs from those years and I'm really excited to see how it sounds. I don't know if it will ever happen again but I do know that the four of us are pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing. If you're not going to be in LA don't worry. I have a feeling that the show will be well documented.

In the meantime, I've spent the last week in the studio with Linda and John Agnello, mixing the Smack Dab record that we began with Paco Loco in Spain two summers ago. What began as plans to record a song or two at Paco's studio in the midst of a lazy summer holiday turned into a simultaneously frenzied and lazy (in the Andalucian tradition) writing spree and a record that I've been wanting to finish for a while. It's a strange mix of New York minimal grooves (I play bass in the band and dive deeply into some serious low end repeition) and hazy, broken psychedlia. It's somewhere between ESG, Big Star, War, Three Dog Night, Stealer's Wheel, the Cramps, Belle and Sebastian and the Temptations. All at the same time.

Otherwise, this has been meant to be a lazy, hazy summer after a year of touring for "…Tick…Tick…Tick" And the view outside my window is certainly hazy, humidity bordering on a thunderstorm. I've recently derived joy from the latest albums by Sonic Youth, Transmissionary Six and Gnarls Barkley as well as "Match Point" (movie), the World Cup and baseball's All-Star game (televised sports) and a post-mixing celebratory dip into gluttony at Peter Luger's (meat). But in the meantimeI think I had better remember a few of those forgotten Dream Syndicate songs.

5.14.06: The road to Haarleem

I live 15 blocks from Harlem. We are about four hours away from Haarlem. It's all about the extra "A." We are in Holland, not in New York. I'm on tour and in a van with Erik, Jason, Linda, Thomas and also (for today's drive) Robert Fisher and Jaap Bos. We're on tour. And this is the tour diary.

How can you live in the Northeast? I don't get asked that question very often (except by my parents who probably would be happy if I was still in Los Angeles) but I'm hearing those very words posed to me by Paul Simon. It's the opening track from his amazing new album "Surprise" which was produced by Brian Eno and sounds as much like an Eno record as it does like a Paul Simon record. There are even bits of Talking Heads, Peter Gabriel and (according to Jason) the Flaming Lips. The lyrics are amazing. It's a definite surprise indeed.

A lot of people have been asking why I didn't do a tour diary during the Italian solo acoustic tour or the week of UK dates with the Willard Grant Conspiracy in the last two weeks. I don't know. Maybe I dig the gang mentality. Or I need longer sets to have more to say. Or…..oh, NOW I remember. I didn't have my laptop. Yep, I didn't do the tour diary because I didn't have my laptop

How can you live in the Northeast?

But I have my laptop now and I can tell you that we opened this tour in Schwerin last night. Robert (who is opening many of these shows with very haunting solo versions of songs from his fantastic new album "Let It Roll") mentioned that it was a very healthy turnout and response for a show in the middle of nowhere to which Thomas pointed out that Schwerin is, in fact, the capitol of that particular region of Northern Germany. Nope, I didn't know that either.

How can THEY live in the Northeast?

This is a pretty short tour, a motley collection of festivals, small towns that were missed on the last tour and big cities that needed to be revisited. Also, we are spreading the word (and night to night sales) of our new live DVD/CD called "Live Tick." It's a audio/visual (hence three-count 'em THREE) documentation of the Geislingen show from last Fall. It should be up on the website for sale sometime next month. The cover is a photo of the exact moment that I shattered a bottle of German beer against the body of my Stratocaster. My guitar still hasn't forgiven me and is back home undergoing heavy therapy.

We're getting closer to Harlem. I wonder if they'll have some fried chicken, collard greens and cornbread. Ah, it's all about the extra "A."

3.26.06: Leaving Pittsburgh

And that's it. For now. We just dropped Dave off at the airport to catch his flight back to Newark and Kirk, Linda and I are setting out on our 1000 mile journey back to Minneapolis to drop off the van, equipment and put Kirk on a plane back to LA. The tour assembles, kicks into gear, disassembles and everyone goes home. You know the drill. And yet it's always sad at the end although there's never that long to wait until the next one.

The end of the tour means bits and pieces that need to be tidied up before you can hang the "Closed" sign on the door of our collective minds, thoughts and suitcases. Empty coffee cups, old newspapers, CDs we've collected, scraps of this and that. Oh, and things I've been meaning to write about in the diary but forgot to mention

Like….


Our Lunch At Sokolowski's-This is an old-school Polish cafeteria in Cleveland that I fully recommend as a double feature with, for example, a visit to the rock and roll Hall of Fame, a rock n' snack package that I undertook with Jason a few years back. This time we ate our pierogis, kielbasa and potato pancakes with Pete, Debbie, Cindy and Will Rigby (old friend and drummer for the likes of Steve Earle, the dBs and….Gutterball for our last two shows in 1996). We sat at the same table that Bill Clinton had graced a few years back and felt mighty presidential when the owner of the restaurant sent out complimentary shots of something thick, red and lethal at the end of our meal. I think they may have offered us a job as the house polka band but everything became a blur.

Things Dave got for his birthday-CDs by Secret Machines and Belle and Sebastian. DVD of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, A box of Milk Duds. Several burritos. A "Gas, Grass or Ass-Nobody Rides Free" bumper sticker. And more

Another Fine Host-Stayed with DJ Paul in Pittsburgh although due to exhaustion and an early morning wakeup to get Dave to the airport, we didn't have all that much time to hang out. Too bad-he's got a great house and a fine collection of music along with some very alluring old organ. Next time.

And that's it. For now. I just picked up the Sunday New York Times and I think that will get me all the way to Chicago. Over and out.

3.24.06: The road to Pittsburgh

They got quite a racket there on Waterloo Avenue around the Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland. There's the aforementioned This Way Out in the basement where Pete and Debbie offer groovy threads and forgotten vinyl (I had my eye on a collection by the Friends Of Distinction until I remembered I don't have a turntable). And then you can walk a few steps down the street to Music Saves, a hip indie CD store where you can pick up some some of the hippest and latest sounds. Finally, there's the club itself which has become one of our favorites on the circuit. Proprietors Mark and Cindy run the place from the heart, offering up the music that they love and treating the bands with kindness and respect. It makes a difference and we always give that extra bit of love right back through our music.

If there is a problem with this scenario, it's that it's very easy to hang out in such a great club, listen to great music and have a beer and suddenly feel great about life, head outside the door and turn your elation and pocket change into some new CDs down the street. And then you return to the basement and buy a new groovy shirt before getting back to the club and catching some more music. Rinse and repeat, you're at it again and before you know it, you've got a stack of CDs, some new shirts, ringing ears, a grin from ear-to-ear and either empty pockets or a credit card bill waiting down the line. Both Music Saves and This Way Out stay open until midnight so the temptation looms large at all hours. Ah, but what fun would life be without temptation, I ask you that!

I dug the show last night. It was weirder and looser than most and poked at the heights and sunk to the depths repeatedly throughout the evening. Those shows can be the most frightening and unnerving but also the most memorable. You get up on the tightrope and do your best not to look down. It's best to travel with a net so you can get back up again the next night. Me, I've got good memories, a new Stephen Merritt CD, two new shirts and circles under my eyes. Score one for temptation.

3.23.06: The road to Cleveland

Linda is behind the wheel and I've commandeered the stereo of our Grand Caravan (doesn't this all feel like a family outing on a Spring Day?) My iPod is plugged into the dashboard and the Shuffle feature is doing it's thing. "Sign o' The Times" by Prince is kicking us into gear right now. Man, this is a great song. Don't get me started. I really think that Prince (along with Bob Dylan) is among the most underrated people in music today. Underrated? Man, I'm not kidding. It's easy to take him for granted because he puts out so much stuff but I'd put his back catalog up against almost anything out there. Okay, now we're onto a song from Nuggets by some guy named Davy Jones. I think his real name is Bowie. Kid's got something going there. I think big things are ahead for him.

I'm vamping. It's what I do. The coffee has kicked in, the sugar is doing it's thing. The sun is coming on hard through the windshield even though it's freezing outside.

We've stayed with some nice people in the last few days. Now, we're usually the types to pull into the nearest Motel 6 and fire up the HBO before waking up the inevitable Denny's next door. It's a routine that we know well. But every so often we end up in a city with good friends and it's a great change of pace to be in an actual home and be able to indulge in conversation, music-listening, cat-petting, beer-drinking and communal living. We've made some good friends on recent tours via such slumber parties and I've become a recent convert to the break-from-the-motel routine.

Pete and Debbie in Cleveland run the groovy clothing/vinyl/knickknack store called This Way Out in the basement of the Beachland Ballroom. We stayed with them on our last run through Cleveland (check old tour diaries for proof!) and had a great time. On this trip, they kindly offered to break up our drive from Chicago to Buffalo on a night off and we arrived at 1am with cold beer and weary bodies. The former were consumed and the latter were soothed, allowing us to sit up and listen to groovy tunes (the Cryan' Shames! Eno bootlegs! True West!) and chatting until 4am. We're on our way back to Cleveland now for our gig at the Beachland and I'm looking forward to another such after-hours party later tonight.

And then there's Marty in Buffalo. He was the promoter the last time we played the Mohawk Place. Not only was the show a highlight of that tour but he also stunned us by showing off his cooking skills with a pre-gig cassoulet that he whipped up backstage. Hey, we're not talking grilled cheese sandwiches (not that there's anything wrong with THAT) but rather some of the finest bit of chef-work that you're ever going to see in the back of a rock club. This time he wasn't the promoter but still showed up with some killer chicken mole that put us in the mood for another wild and wooly night of entertainment. And then he and his wife Susan invited us back to their country home by a pond outside of town where we listened to the new Johnny Dowd record (pretty freaky in a shocker!) and slept until noon when we awoke to the scent of a frittata like creation that Marty was concocting in his Food Network-like kitchen. Wow.

Motel 6? For this particular week, you can leave the light on for someone ELSE.

3.22.06: The road to Cleveland

Here's the lowdown on 24 hours in Chicago. Two shows, two burritos, 7 hours of sleep, one birthday, lots of friends. I could stop now. I really could stop now but Kirk is driving, it's 8pm and we still have another 200 miles before we get to Cleveland for a night off with our friends Pete and Debbie. I've got the excellent new CD by Eleventh Dream Day on my headphones and it feels like I've got all the time in the world.

We played at the Double Door last night on a strong bill with the Great Crusades and EDD's Rick Rizzo. I'm always happy to have the chance to both hang out with listen to music by Rick. He's been a friend since he and Janet Bean used to come out to early Dream Syndicate shows. We almost got arrested setting off fireworks behind a club in Champagne, recorded a bunch of songs together in 1995 and have had many other interesting and illuminating nights over the years. We have also ended many of our evenings together with freaky, extended on-stage jams and last night was no different as Rick joined us for a triple-guitar attack on Richard Thompson's "Calvary Cross" and my own "John Coltrane Stereo Blues," one of which most likely was playing when the clock struck 12 and Dave Decastro's birthday got off to a rocking start.

And what could a guy like Dave want for his birthday? Well, many things, I'm sure. But I do know that he was happy to begin another year on the planet with a bass in his hand to be followed by a little bit of time with a beer in his hand and then followed around 1:30am by some minutes with a carnitas burrito in his hand. And then a chance to sleep in until noon? Well, I'd say the year was getting off to a good start.

And what does a band do on its day off? Well, we load equipment into a room and play music, of course. We visited with rock critic legends Jim DeRogatis and Greg Kot for a few hours at their syndicated radio show Sound Opinions. We played a handful of songs but the most entertaining part of the show may have been the between-song banter. Jim and Greg are both familiar with not only my stuff but also the musical histories of Linda, Dave and Kirk and there was a good six-way conversation going on about just about everything. You'll be able to hear the show as a link on this site in the next week or two.

The radio show finished and a six-hour drive ahead, we did the sensible thing and made sure to hit another Mexican restaurant (the highly recommended La Pasita) for another burrito. Hey, it's Dave's birthday. You gotta let the guy do what he wants to do and when a guy's favorite things is music, Mexican food and hanging out in Chicago that's just fine with me.

3.21.06: The road to Chicago

You can't tell the players without a scorecard these days. Jason went back home to New York to prepare for his European tour with the Willard Grant Conspiracy and Kirk Swan has stepped back into the Stage Right guitarist slot. Is that correct? Stage right? I always forget. Well, he IS to the right of me, at least that's where he was last night when we played at the 400 Bar in Minneapolis. I'm always amazed and excited to see how much a band can change when you switch one member-I do feel that it is a bad sign if your music remains exactly the same no matter who you are with. It's good to be open enough to change and environment to allow the music to reflect what's going on around you.

Man, that last paragraph was getting pretty academic. I hope you're taking notes. There WILL be a test. Neatness counts.

But it's important to remember that it IS only rock and roll. And blues. And garage. And stand-up comedy. Anyway, we were joined by a Who's Who of the rock royalty of Minneapolis, not surprising since Linda was a who who herself (say THAT quickly) of the scene until she up and moved to New York in 1995. Our audience contained pals from the Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, Polara, Son Volt, Zuzu's Petals and more. Yes, I'm an incorrigible name-dropper. The stage contained members of the Dream Syndicate, Dumptruck, Health and Happiness Show and Golden Smog. The newspapers contained articles about Barry Bonds and Val Kilmer. My blood contained trace elements of the Vietnamese roast pork soup I consumed 90 minutes before the set.

That's the funny thing about name-dropping. Different things impress different people, right? I'm sure there are those of you out there that didn't perk up until the mention of roast pork. Admit it. And it's the honest to gospel truth that there are many out there who would let out a great yawn to all of this but absolutely lose their minds once they knew that our crowd (and dinner table) also was graced by the legendary Zackary Vex, the guru/genius/Stravinsky of the guitar effects pedal. He came onto the scene with the super-freaky Fuzz Factory and now has 20 different models in his arsenal including the Super Duper which is part of my personal bag o' tricks. And Linda hand-painted some of his earliest models which impresses guitar geeks more than the high-profile bands with whom she has played. Okay, commercial over. Can I get an artist discount?

Kirk is driving, Dave is sleeping, Linda is wishing a happy birthday to her niece in Vermont. I'm typing. And recounting every second of that amazing Roy Head set that I saw in Austin. It will be hard to top his version of "Treat Her Right" on my live highlights of 2006. For what it's worth, here's my list of the best songs that I saw performed at South By Southwest:


Treat Her Right--Roy Head (Continental Club)
The Cutter--Echo And The Bunnymen (Towne Lake)
Nowaday's Clancy Can't Even Sing--Richie Furay (Antone's)
Zero Hour--Peter Case (Dog And Duck)
Ah, Shit Man--Minus 5 (Continental Club)
Check Mr Popeye--Eddie Bo (Continental Club)
Ring Of Fire--Stan Ridgeway (Hilton Hotel)
Everywhere That I'm Not--Translator (Dog And Duck)
Tighten Up--Archie Bell (Continental Club)
What'd I Say--Barbara Lynn (Continental Club)

3.19.06: Flight 504 to Minneapolis

The last time I tapped out one of these misses from the seat of a 747 was ten days ago. I was zonked out, flying high and low at the same time from the results of minimal sleep and maximum mileage. We had just finished a tour of the west coast and were bracing ourselves for the South By Southwest convention in Austin. Now it's Sunday and after playing eight shows and seeing about 15 others in five days I'm back into state of combined exhilaration, exhaustion and jumbled memories that may or may not add up to some kind of reality. Let's see if I can do a quick sketch of what went down through a first-impression backwards glance of sorts

SHOWS WE PLAYED

KUT-The radio station that sponsored our official SXSW showcase. Jason and his girlfriend Silvia arrived by taxi 45 minutes before the live broadcast. I broke a string on the first song but the station had done a sponsorship with Gibson and the studio was lined with expensive guitars. I picked up a '61 reissue SG (never had played one before) and had to have it pried from my excited fingers by the time we had finished a very extended version of "No Tomorrow"

KGSR-Jody Denberg was one of the first DJs in the US to support my music, bringing the Dream Syndicate to Austin after the release of our first EP. Now it's almost 25 years later and I still don't feel a visit to Austin is complete without a visit to my good friend of so many years. He's the real deal, playing music and living life from the heart. We rocked out his cozy studio and I think I might owe the station some money for the paint that we left peeled from the intimate noise.

FLLPNOTICS-our first public gig of the week. We played outside beneath a full moon for about 75 minutes, our longest show of the week (odd, since that would be the shortest set of most tours). Hung out with Charles from the Wrens. He's a good guy and his band does a similar thing to what we do to very different results. But we both enjoy wrenching new noises and emotions from familiar tools. I think we may end up doing some shows together someday. Also in the house was our good pal Gurbir from London.

MOTHER EGANS'S-We played the Guitar Town party last year as well. We hit the stage at 1:25pm. Probably not even awake yet but I heard that we had some very interesting public dreams. Dream (scream?) analysis via Fender guitars. We would have like to have hung out longer (with Edgar Heckman and Thomas Lingstaedt among others) but there were two more shows to play that day

YARD DOG-One of my favorite places in Austin. A gallery that specializes in folk and outsider art, much of it painted by musicians like Jon Langford and Tom Russell. We played one of their daily keg parties in the back patio and did our best to provide the happiest of happy hours to an audience that included the Minus 5 contingent of Scott, Mary and Dewitt along with some of the Llano wedding posse. I avoided the beer tap out of fear of buying some very groovy art that I could not afford.

CARIBBEAN LIGHTS-Ah, that name. Would we play "The Pina Colada Song?" or a medley of Billy Ocean's hits? No no no-It was our third show in 12 hours and we had a second wind of energy and turned out a psycho, freak set that included my favorite version of "No Tomorrow" of the week. This is becoming my favorite song of the set. When you play so many shows in a week, it's nice to have a song that can go in almost any direction. It was Producer Night with both Craig Schumacher (behind the board, in fact) and Sandy Pearlman in the house. We were the last to leave. Again.

JOVITA'S-The Twangfest show was my favorite SXSW gig of 2005 and this one was a last minute addition. Somebody cancelled. I don't know who. When you're a gig slut, taking anything that comes your way out of a sense of mission and endurance, you just say "yes" and show up with the guitars. Brad Rice lent me his new Supro amp for the gig and I completely flipped out. It's MY sound. How did they know-one little speaker, four knobs and a big, beautiful sound. I've got to get one.

CONTINENTAL CLUB-Can I count this one? I got on stage at 1:30am with the Minus 5 at their gig. Just two songs but I so rarely am in the position of learning songs from another band's set so I had to concentrate more and work harder than usual. I watched Peter Buck's hands for the chords. I think I only made one mistake. Oh, I forgot. There are no mistakes-only choices that bend the tonal reality. Phew!

DOG AND DUCK-The Pop Culture Press party was our last gig of the festival and-pacing be damned-we turned out a punk rock wild one that felt like the moment that you slip on a banana peel but never hit the ground. Or something like that. The lineup was incredible so we stayed all day, checking out sets by Peter Case, Translator, Susanna Hoffs and Matthew Sweet, Willie Nile and Jules Shear along with lots of pals including Scott Schinder, Edgar, Thomas, Alejandro Escovedo, Tim O Regan, my elementary school buddy Keith (we were members of the CCR fan club together) and also the Tai-Weihs family who had graciously opened their beautiful home to us for the week. They deserve the biggest shout-out of all.

BANDS I SAW

Well, I guess I won't go too much into the details but let's see: James McMurtry, Tom Freund, Richie Furay (Neil Young did not show up, despite the rumors), Echo and The Bunnymen, Jake Bennett, the Waco Brothers, Tom Russell, Barbara Lynn, Archie Bell, Eddie Bo, Roy Head, Tim O Regan, Stan Ridgeway and….a few others that I can't remember.

And that's about all-this plane is about to land. One more week of touring ahead and somehow I feel that even with the long distances in the Midwest, this is going to feel very, very easy in comparison

3.13.06: Austin

I hear there's been some talk about our tendency to come down here to the South By Southwest music conference and play as many shows as our schedule, van, guitars, drums, arms, legs and brains will allow. Somebody asked me "How is it possible to play seven shows in one SXSW convention?"

Well, the answer is that we're actually playing nine shows.

I had lost count myself but here is the schedule for anyone who is here in Austin or for people at home that might be playing along with the home version of the SW+M3 at SXSW board game (ages 9 and up)

TUESDAY 2pm LIVE ON KUT
TUESDAY 6:30pm LIVE ON KGSR
TUESDAY 9pm LIVE AT FLIPNOTICS
WEDNESDAY 1pm LIVE AT MOTHER EGAN'S (Guitar Town)
WEDNESDAY 6pm LIVE AT YARD DOG
WEDNESDAY 1am LIVE AT CARIBBEAN NIGHTS (offical showcase)
THURSDAY 1:30pm LIVE AT JOVITA'S (Twangfest)
THURSDAY 3pm LIVE (solo) AT BORDER'S/CONVENTION CENTER
THURSDAY 1am GUEST SPOT WITH MINUS 5 AT CONTINENTAL
SATURDAY 4pm LIVE AT DOG AND DUCK (Pop Culture Press)

I just had to type that out so that I would believe it. Of course, I hide such things from Jason, Dave and Linda. I just keep them in the van, tucked away in their individual road cases that I open when I arrive at each venue at which point they are removed from their state of suspended animation and then switched into Rock Mode. It's all very scientific but you can find the charts and schematics elsewhere on this site.

In the meantime, time must be made for local edible delights (just had some al pastor tacos at Las Manitas with our pal Brad Rice who moved here a few months ago) and record shopping (bought a new reggae soul comp on Soul Jazz and a collection of Link Wray's 70s recordings over at Waterloo Records) as well as some aimless driving around this fine city, soundtrack provided by some Everly Brothers compilations that I got from my pal Jim in LA. Once again, my dear readers, you are HERE. Take your vitamins and get some sleep, okay?

3.12.06: Austin

We got out here a few days early to witness the marriage of former manager/agent/tour manager and current Borderline booker and forever friend Barry Everitt to Bex Marshall. Despite living in London's Crouch End, those wacky kids decided that Texas was the place to make their vows and a bunch of their family and friends flew over from the UK to Austin and then embarked on a 90 minute drive to Llano, Texas where they took over the historic Dabbs Hotel (www.dabbshotel.com) where Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow used to hang out between heists-once a haven for outlaws, always a haven for outlaws. The Brits had been out there for a few days when we arrived on Friday night and thankfully they had pretty much partied themselves into a relatively laid-back state. That was just fine by Linda, Dave and myself since we had slept only hour since our show in LA and I was even wearing the same clothes that I had worn onstage (much to the delight of my fellow passengers on Southwest Airlines, I'm sure). We were fried beyond belief but that didn't stop us from taking a detour on our way to Llano to make a pilgrimage to the legendary Salt Lick BBQ restaurant in Driftwood. A combo plate of ribs, brisket and sausage and we were ready to dive into the wedding party. The wedding itself was an early afternoon affair in a pastoral setting next to the river that passes behind the hotel. The bride and groom gave beautiful speeches, cameras snapped and snapped and then Bex announced "it's time to party," kicking off 14 hours of more bbq, margaritas, stories, jokes, speeches and then a short walk to a local hall where Austin's Black Water Gospel kicked off a great set of Texas fried Americana. Good stuff but we all know that musicians just hate to stand and watch people play music when they could, in fact, be jumping into the fray and it wasn't long before Linda, Dave and I hit the stage, augmented by the BWG's lead guitarist Jesse. We played an unplanned set that went a little like this: GROOM STILL WAITING AT THE ALTER HONKY TONK WOMAN OUTLAW BLUES AMPHETAMINE LONG TALL SALLY (with Dave on lead vocals) THE LAST TIME Hey, not a bad cover band (except for that little Static Transmission ringer in the middle). Personally, I'm ready to slide into the wedding/birthday party/cruise ship circuit any time now. The evening ended with an acoustic jam and I can't even begin to tell you all of the songs that were played but I was feeling ragged today, a condition that could only be remedied by MORE BBQ and we ended up at what is supposed to be the most famous smoke pit bbq joint in Texas-Cooper's right in downtown Llano. It lived up to the hype. Now, where was I? This is a tour diary, right? And it's time to dive back into our touring life. Jason shows up on Tuesday and we begin a run of 9 shows in five days. And I'm sure we'll have more food, friend and fun adventures along the way. Stay tuned.

3.10.06: Flight 207 to Austin

It's time to say goodbye to the West Coast. It's Friday and we're trading in our sunglasses and tanning lotion for a ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots. Okay, we're actually just repacking our luggage and reassessing our food guides and setting our clocks ahead one hour. And we're sitting on this airplane. Exhausted and wiped out beyond belief. Who said that LA is a mellow place? We seem to have brought our New York pace to my old hometown.

Do you want highlights? Well, you've come to the right place, buckaroo. Let's do 36 hours in LA by the alphabet


A is for Accelerator, which was pushed down hard to cover all of the miles of freeway in Los Angeles. I didn't check the mileage but we shuttled from Kirk's place in LA to Long Beach and back before catching some sleep and then heading into Silverlake for our gig at the Echo only to return to the airport at 5am this morning. Lots of miles but also more than 1 person in the car which meant we got to speed along in the diamond lane at much, much faster speeds than the average Angeleno driver who prefers to ride alone. Eat my diamond dust, BABY!

B is for B. Paul Cutler's middle initial. We had dinner with my old guitarist and his gal Victoria and then they came back to The Echo for our gig. I don't think Paul had seen me play in a while and it felt funny to play all of the Syndicate songs but I have a feeling he probably dug it.

C is for Carnitas. Dave went out for a burrito before sound check. When he came back, I asked him what kind he got and he looked at me like I was nuts. "You have to ask?" I guess I didn't. Dave loves carnitas.

D is for Duck. And for Dennis. That's right-two members of the Dream Syndicate in one night but Dennis was up there rocking out with Human Hands. Man, they just get better and better. You should track down their last EP ("Emily Watson") but I have a feeling their upcoming album will be even better

E is for Extra. That's the US entertainment TV show that dropped by sound check to do a feature on me, the M3 and our new record. Any of you who have seen the show are probably as surprised as I am that they would put us on their show as they are a pretty mainstream operation but the producer/interviewer Adam did a great job and I think it will be a very good piece.

F is for Fingerprints, a very groovy record store in Long Beach and an old haunt of Chris Cacavas when he lived down there. Played a short set with Linda while Dave shopped (no bass amp down there). I picked up an early Silver Jews album, Linda got two t-shirts (Rolling Stones and MC5). Dave picked up a sampler with a bunch of Eno songs.

G is for Grasshoppers because that's exactly what we ate after the Fingerprints show. Went to Gueleguetza (another G!), my favorite Mexican restaurant in LA and decided to dive into the food adventurer sweepstakes. Yep, grasshoppers. Sauteed in some pungent Mexican spices and laid out by the HUNDREDS in a big plate from which we liberally scooped up the crunchy buggers, tossed them into a corn tortilla, doused them with hot sauce and chomped away. As expected, they're crunchy and, as you would figure, it's best to not look too closely

H is for Hochman and Herczog, our old pals Mary and Steve who allowed us to crash at their pad for the two hours between the time we left our LA gig and when we had to leave for the airport

I is for Insects. We ate grasshoppers, man! Holy cow! And Dave has pictures.

J is for Jim Barber, my old buddy from early Syndicate days when he was a DJ who patiently endured a drunken visit to his station in 1984 through my days at Big Time Records where he worked and turned me onto many great bands and books. Now he's a big shot producer (Ryan Adams, Courtney Love) and we've renewed our friendship, bonded by a ferocious love for books, music and the areas where things fall between the cracks in the sidewalk. He brought me a box set of Everly Brothers songs last night including some of the amazing (and overlooked) stuff they did in the late 60s

K is for Klaatu. Everyone thought they were the Beatles. I was a rock critic for my high school newspaper in West LA and wrote an article about Klaatu. I wonder what they're doing now.

L is for Liz Garo, an old LA pal who books the Echo where we played last night. It was my first time there and it's a great club and only a mile from my last LA residence. Had there been clubs that good in my neighborhood when I lived in LA, I may never have left

M is for MySpace. Everyone's into it. Everyone has a page up there. Dave, Linda, Kirk, me-we all do. You should, too. We can be friends. We can hang out. You can spread the word of your favorite music to people that you'll never meet. You can get 10,000 friends and get signed to a big record company. I even set up my mother with a page. Her name is Marlena (another M) Duron. Go and find her and be her friend.

N is for New York. I wonder what's going on back there

O is for Oscars. Man, the Academy Awards gets a lot more ink in the LA Times than in any other paper which, of course, makes sense. I'm still surprised and a little dismayed that "Crash" won best picture. You should go and see "Good Night and Good Luck." It's a much better movie

P is for Promos. I hit the jackpot last night on CDs from my friends who work at record labels. My friend Donna Dechristopher from Rhino brought a superfine bag o' swag with DVDs and CDs by T. Rex, Elvis (P, that is), the Velvets, War and some other items. And my old buddy Dan Perloff (another P!) brought a bunch of groovy jazz CDs. But the CD that's going into the car stereo first will be the CD that I got from my old roommate/music mentor Tom Gracyk who burned a radio show we did together in 1978. Should that be shared to the website? I'll check it out first

Q is Quickly. And that's the opposite of the speed upon which we left the Echo last night, much to the dismay of the club's staff. Oh, they were nice about it. Much nicer than I would have been. But it was so great to hang out with so many old friends and bandmates (not that the two are mutually exclusive). Can I namedrop? Kevin Jarvis, Robert Lloyd, Robert Fisher and Adam "Red" Lasus were all in the house. As were Eddie Gomez and Mara Schwartz from Bug, Gary Stewart, Linda Warner and…..uh, oh. The background music is getting louder-I have to wrap up my acceptance speech.

R is for Riders On The Storm. I sang a version of this and other Doors songs at a gig at the Variety Arts Theater in LA back in 1987. It was an anti-nukes benefit and the event organizer put together a one-off band with me, Ray Manzarek, Randy California, Dallas Taylor, Mike Watt and Dean Chamberlin. We played an hour's worth of songs from the 60s. It was a blast and I can't believe I've never found a tape of that show.

S is for Sacking Out which is what Linda and Dave are both doing at this very minute as we fly over Texas. I seem to be doing fine on two hours of sleep but that just can't last

T is for The. It was pointed out to me (by my bandmates) that placing that very article before the highway number is something unique to Californians. You know what I mean? It's in a bunch of my songs. I was driving on THE 101. And then I drove on THE 405. I guess they don't say this in other places. I guess it goes along with The Knack and The Byrds. And THE meeting with THE agent went well and ended up in THE actor getting THE role in THE movie. Or something like that

U is for University High School in West LA. I went to school there as did Darby Crash, Kim Gordon, Tone Loc, Frank Sinatra Jr and a bunch of other luminaries. Didn't get around to checking it out on this trip.

V is for Victor. Jason will be joining up with us in Austin for South By Southwest and then Kirk will grab the baton in Minneapolis and finish off the US tour with us. I think we need to get BOTH of them in one band. That would be Unbelievable.

W is for Warner. Linda Warner ran the Dream Syndicate fan club for most of the 80s and she was at the show last night. She always calls out for "Slide Away" and I'll have to play it one of these days

X is for X. But none of them were there last night.

Y is for Young. As in Neil. We all sat up at Kirk (and his wife Tammie's) house in Encino Wednesday night and watched Neil appear as a guest on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. I really want to see that "Heart of Gold" movie but I guess I'll just wait until it comes out on DVD.

Z is for 'Zat's All Folks!

3.07.06: The road to Los Angeles

Wow, that sounds like the title to a long lost book by John Fante as well as a reminder that The Road to Los Angeles used to be The Road Back Home for me. I guess Los Angeles still is home in a way. Most of my family lives there as well as most of my best friends and, of course, the best taco stands around. But on this particular journey, it is a stop on the tour. Los Angeles is a sound check, a wake up call, an itinerary. And it's home. What did Neil Diamond say?

LA's fine but it ain't home
New York's home but it ain't mine no more

Not terribly applicable in my case. The order of residence is backwards, their BOTH home to me and I pretty much only brought that lyric into this entry to point out the lyrics that come just barely before "..and no one heard at all, not even The Chair." Oh, I love that guy.

We DID make it out of Yreka, the highways had been cleared and continued snowfall, torrential rains and endless traffic wasn't enough to keep us from making it to San Francisco for our gig at Café Du Nord which was a good thing since it was a really good night. Lots of friends were there, Chuck Prophet got up for a triple guitar gonzo jam on Richard Thompson's "Cavalry Cross" and we found ourselves at a very sleazy burrito joint on Mission and 24th at 2am with our old bass player Kurt Statham as well as pals Suzy and Carolin. Nothing like beans, rice, tortilla, salsa and carnitas right before bedtime to push the dreams into the realm of psychedelia.

And we spent the night in San Francisco which is an abnormality these days. We usually find ourselves driving after the gig, the better to break up the long drive that lies ahead to the LA show that would normally follow. But with a day off today, we chose to spend the night at a motel on Market Street and wake up for an interview at CNET.com (check the website for a link in the coming days), some record shopping at the amazing Amoeba Records (Dave bought CDs by Steve Kilbey, Peter Gabriel and Kirk picked up Ween and the New Pornographers, I left empty-handed and Linda had gone thrift shopping) which was followed by ANOTHER Mexican food run before we left town.

I think we all need to find some salads in Los Angeles. Or, as they would order in my hometown, a three egg omelette with three egg whites and one yolk, some alfalfa sprouts, nine-grain wheat toast and a half-caf decaf cappuccino with a twist.

See? I've still got it!

3.05.06: Yreka, California

No, that's not a typo I'm actually in a city called Yreka. I never thought I'd be spending the night in a city called Yreka. But here I am, watching the post-game coverage of the Academy Awards broadcast. Right about now I should be walking off stage after an exciting set at the Ivy Room in Oakland. And today at noon with 300 miles to go things were looking good. I even figured I'd have an hour at the hotel before getting to the club.

And then the snow began to fall.

We began to worry when we saw a line of cars and trucks by the side of the road, the drivers fastening chains around their tires. We were debating whether to buy chains, wait at a rest stop or just move forward when our decision was made for us. We hit a standstill traffic jam and didn't move for the next hour. I felt a little encouraged when the cars began to move but it was false optimism as we were just being moved to the next offramp in order to turn around and head back north towards Oregon.

The show had to be cancelled, only my fourth cancellation in 25 years. We found this very Motel 6 in Yreka, gathered the beers and bottles of wine that had collected in the van and threw an impromptu Oscar party. Pretty boring stuff, actually, and I was disappointed that Jon Stewart wasn't given the chance to step outside and get into the more irreverent and unpredictable humor that he does on his show, my favorite thing on TV.

Now it's 10pm. The rest of the band is either asleep or heading in that direction. I hope we make it to our show in San Francisco tomorrow. I'm optimistic.

Last night we DID make it to our show (cut to favorite Spinal Tap quote "they never mention the times we DID find the stage.") It was our second show this WEEK at Sam Bond's in Eugene and just as much a blast as the gig on Thursday. Dan Jones and his band The Squids opened the show just as they did in Portland and were even better, augmented by a second guitarist. You should really check out his stuff-he reminds me of something between the Velvets' "1969" album and a missing Pete Townshend solo record. Check it out.

I hate having to blow off a show. I'm not in the best mood right now.

3.04.06: The road to Eugene

The Turtles are on the stereo singing "Happy Together" which was recently used as the song in a commercial for Red Lobster or some similar eating establishment. I think the idea was that steak and shrimp is a really good combination, two things that really belong on the same plate, two things that are, well, truly Happy Together. They may have even changed the words from "me and you and you and me…" to something more along the lines of "steak and shrimp and shrimp and steak and…." Well, you get the picture. So, Linda is driving and "Happy Together" is playing and Linda is happily singing about both Steak and Shrimp. Just like Ebony And Ivory. Or Black And White. Or Search And Destroy. But things weren't so G-rated and uplifiting and all "We Are the World" in the van today. Just a few hours ago I was behind the wheel of our snazzy Grand Caravan with DVD player in the back seat and treating Dave and Kirk to the copy of "The Aristocrats" that I bought yesterday. Have you seen it? It's really about the most foul, offensive, dark thing I've ever seen. Oh, and also the funniest. I couldn't even see the screen but I was still busting up in the front seat. It's really an exhausting movie and completely wiped out the guys in the back who are now half asleep. And dreaming of steak and shrimp, most likely. Not that it would take the envelope pushing of "The Aristrocrats" to make us tired at this point. Yesterday was a marathon that found us leaving the hotel at 8am, driving up to Seattle for an afternoon show on the fabulous KEXP (you can find it on their website until March 16) and then hustling over to the Tractor for sound check and then an evening of hanging out, chatting with friends and a long show that ended around 1:30am after which we spent a little time with friends Paul Austin and Terri Moeller (from Transmissionary Six and the Walkabouts) as well as other local pals and two unnamed women who had been dancing ferverishly through the set, fixated on our drummer and shouting out "Lisa! We love you, Lisa!" although I gently tried to correct them a few times. They wanted to abduct us and take us to some wild party but we were looking at the end of a 24 hour day and another long drive so we gratefully opted out. Who knows? Maybe it was an Aristocrats-themed party. Or a steak and shrimp buffet. Sometimes you just have to let your imagination do the trick.

3.03.06: The road to Seattle

Everything looks easy when you're sitting at home in front of a computer screen. Book a tour with long drives and no days off? No problem-just a few inches on a map and a click of the mouse and it's DONE. Toss in a radio show or two in the afternoons? Absolutely-if you feel good when you actually book the show, there's no reason why you won't feel good when you have to wake up at 6am to actually get to the station on time. Okay, I guess sometimes I overextend and overestimate the physical capabilities of my touring partners but the challenge of the near-impossible reaps even larger rewards when you actually look back on what you've done. See? I've almost convinced YOU, dear reader! Imagine what I can do from two feet away in the van!

And we are sitting in the van right now on our 250 mile drive from Eugene to Seattle and I think we're on schedule to get to KEXP just in time for our 2pm load-in. Kirk is behind the wheel, Linda is checking her Blackberry, Dave is on his cell phone and wishing some mysterious person a Happy Birthday and I'm here typing. Elvis Costello is singing "Tiny Steps" on the iPod shuffle that's fed into the van tape deck. You are HERE. Do you want a sip of my coffee?

We're all a little fried after our equivalent of a Class Reunion last night at Sam Bond's in Eugene. We had a night off until a few weeks ago and this didn't go unnoticed by the club's booker Diane who asked if we wanted to be the surprise guest for a Robyn Hitchcock/Minus 5 show. And even though it was 100 miles out of the way, I couldn't resist. See? Just a "yes" and a mouse click. Too easy. But this was well worth it, a chance to hang out with good friends like Peter Buck, Scott McCoughey and Bill Rieflin and to spend time with Robyn Hitchcock whose band the Soft Boys was a HUGE influence on the Dream Syndicate (compare their "Strange" to my "When You Smile" and you'll see what I mean). What a night! Four hours of exciting music, lots of great conversation, a few beers, some pizza, a few laughs and the chance to catch up with people that we see in cities and backstages and hotels in the most unlikely of places. It was like a class reunion except that nobody tried to sell me insurance or a time share in the Bahamas. Not that I remember anyway.

3.02.06: Eugene

Nice hotel here in Eugene. I tried out that Priceline site for the first time and ended up with the Valley River Inn, about which the local promoter said "wow, that's a really nice place." You never hear that, not about Motel 6 anyway. But this is indeed our home for three days until we skip out of town at 8am tomorrow morning. Big rooms-you could do laps in the room if you were inclined to do such things. Or you could just watch TV and throw your clothes and other stuff all around the room. Your choice! That's the beauty-you rent the room and you can do WHATEVER YOU WANT! Just ask Joe Walsh

But I digress. Again. It is a real luxury to have the same hotel for three days and that made the two hour drive after last night's Portland show entirely worthwhile. Dave was wiped out from flying all day from Newark, Linda had pounded her drums (and herself) into submission and Kirk had shared a few beers with Tape Op publisher Larry Crane so that left me to do the drive. No problem-I love the late night shift behind the wheel and was inspired by some fine FM oldies station that played weird and almost-bad chestnuts like "Chicago" by Graham Nash (not a bad song and much better than the little-known 70s classic "Graham Nash" by Chicago).

The show itself? Just fine. Towne Hall is a club that manages to very closely approximate something out of Blue Velvet. There's something just slightly off-kilter about the place, whether it the Do-It-Yourself approach to PA and lights (and we were up to the task) or the motley group of attendees. There were the usual fans and various newcomers. A nice young couple with pink hair, one was celebrating a birthday, hung out with us by the car. The very genial Josh had helped spread the word on the show and gave us a care package at the end of the night containing chips, beer and some very mysterious cookies. A young woman named Betsy who said she was jealous that we actually lived in New York but proudly told us that she was looking forward to her upcoming trip to the Big Apple where she said she planned "to go to lots of bars, see Williamsburg and get laid!" Okay, Betsy. Thanks for the information.

Holy cow! Would you look at the time! It's 6:30pm and we have a sound check in 30 minutes. We have a show tonight here at Sam Bond's with our friends in the Minus 5. Good stories ahead, I'm sure

2.28.06: The road to Portland

The section of Highway 5 that stretches from LA to Sacramento is one big straightaway that requires little more than staying awake. You could almost do it in your sleep. And that's why I'm able to type out this missive with my laptop balanced on my right leg, a cup of 7/11 coffee in my left hand, my right hand on the radio dial and my jaw cradling a cell phone that has me connected to each of my agents and at least one publicist while I………Had you going didn't I? I mean, did you really imagine that was the scenario here in our Grand Caravan minivan? Did you think I would endanger not only this very diary (blog?) entry but also the safety of my fellow passengers? Hmmmm……maybe yes, maybe no. But I'm not forced to make that decision since special featured guest guitarist Kirk Swan seems to love driving. He's up front driving like, well, like there's no tomorrow. Linda is chatting with him and I am in t he back seat amdist a sea of books, magazines, tortilla chips, bottled water, phones and this very latptop. But I'm not driving.

We're hoping to get to Eugene tonight and be able to call that city our home for the next three days. That's a luxury. I don't think I've been in my New York apartment for three consecutive days since Clinton was president. Bill, that is. Not Hilary. I don't think she's won the presidency yet, has she? I don't know. This is a long drive.

And where is our bass player? Are we going without a bass player to cash in on the trend of 2002, confusing ourselves about where the line can be drawn between cutting edge and oh-so-slightly retro? Well? Are we? Are we? Do you feel lucky, punk? No, it turns out that Dave Decastro is flying into Portland. On the Concorde, I think, fresh from his last Foghat gig. I dunno. He never tells me anything.

Kirk just asked if I could imagine what this same scene would have been like 20 years ago. I think he's trying to imply that cell phones, computers, tour diaries, CD players, DVD players (yes, this van has one of those as well) and even Trader Joe's blue corn potato chips would not be part of our assortment of distractions. He's right. But we still would have been driving up North to play our music with old guitars, old amplifiers and an endless fountain of enthusiasm. Some things never change.

2.22.06: Jet Blue Flight 355

I hear that some people have been griping about the lack of a tour diary in 2006. I can see their point. I have been on tour. Amplifiers and drums were moved from town to town and I sat in close proximity to Jason, Linda and Dave for many hours at a time. Sounds like a tour to me.

But the trips haven't been that long. We left New York for no more than 72 hours even though we played six shows in five cities (Philadelphia twice!) and that makes it hard to find that observatory groove. Oh, and I did most of the driving and my band for some reason seems to frown upon me driving while typing, at least while they're awake. And it's been a year of serious disorientation and upheaval and I didn't always want to see what would happen when my fingers would touch a typewriter keyboard.

On the other hand, I now find myself sitting in seat 7A on Jet Blue flight 355 from New York to Burbank and I won't be seeing my apartment until early April when, hopefully, the chill of Winter turns into warmer days, overcoats giving way to Bermuda shorts, I (heart) New York t-shirts and cameras. Well, that would the tourists anyway.

I'm really on tour now, even though I'm on this flight by myself. I'm heading out early to see family and friends, eat Mexican food and get ready for some shows on the West Coast next week. I think we're somewhere above Nebraska and there's a satire of Hee Haw on the Comedy Central channel that's on the seat back in front of me. Have you flown on Jet Blue? 40 channels of real time TV which means that your long flight evaporates into a haze of Animal Planet, MTV, the History channel and, best of all, that static channel where you get to watch an icon of YOUR VERY JET as it crosses the country. Wow, it's like a Warhol movie.

On the other hand, I'm not listening to the TV. I'm checking out my absolute favorite album of the year for the 10th time in the last few days. It's "Tanglewood Numbers" by the Silver Jews. Right now the singer (I forget his name) is telling me that "God must be carving up clouds in animal shapes." I'm in awe He's a great lyricist. Another song is called "How Can I Love You If You Won't Lie Down" and it's even better than the title. This guy (don't bother to write in with the name-I'll know as soon as I land) strikes me as the modern Leonard Cohen IF "Death Of A Ladies Man" was a good album. There you go-my abstract rock criticism is in full force

So many things to talk about from the previous weeks. We played two shows in two rooms at the World Café Live in Philadelphia-one in the evening before a record-setting blizzard and the other in a noon live radio broadcast that may have been the earliest set I've ever played. Thanks to the fantastic new club and the support of WXPN, Philadelphia is turning into one of my favorite places to play.

And then there was the incredible night at the Jammin Java (a much better club than the name would imply, I swear) where we were joined by my former Gutterball bandmates Stephen, Armistead, Bob and Johnny who drove up from Richmond and ended up on stage for the encore as the Miracle 3 gave way to a Gutterball set that was our second of the year, both time giving us the closeness and catharsis to dive deep into the grief and emptiness that we have been feeling since we lost our friend and bandmate Bryan Harvey and his family on the first day of this year. If ever there was a display of the power and possibility of music, this was it.

The Silver Jews continue to play. I love this album.

We played another show at the Seidel Lanes bowling alley in Baltimore, right there on lanes 5 and 6 just like last year. We hung out and bowled with Teenage Prayers who played three gigs with us. I played my first show at the Mercury Lounge in almost three years and celebrated the return to my old Home Gig by staying at the bar until 5am, talking about Bob Dylan with my friend Joe Hurley and his friend who as far as I could tell had a ventriloquist act with wooden replicas of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards as her dummies.

And now things get interesting.

A week on the West Coast with Kirk Swan in the role of lead guitarist while Jason Victor takes care of business back home. And then Jason joins us for a week of gigs in Austin. But then Jason leaves and Kirk comes back for shows in the Midwest. And then I'm on my own for acoustic shows in Italy, Holland and the UK before joining up with the band with Erik in the place of Dave for a tour of Europe.

Got that? Good because I'm not sure if I do. But I promise I'll tell you all about it. The stories are bound to be good and my typewriter is bitching me out for keeping it locked away for so long. Okay, okay-the diary is BACK. (February 22)