When I went to the local bookstore to buy the “Touring For Morons,“they left out a few key details:

—If you choose to not eat junk food at rest stops, you’ll starve.
—Propane tanks and RV’s are not allowed NYC tunnels.
—You’ll be incredibly tired when you get home.
—The sound of diesel engines in neutral will be the only sound you hear every morning.
—There’s nothing you can do to rid your bus of an eternal fart smell.
—Each performance, you’ll feel like you’re getting sick only to realize you’re just anxious.
—Your bandmates will likely bring mullet wigs, red and blue unitards, gigantic tennis shoes, and tea-bag each other in the middle of the night.

Yes, these were things I didn’t bargain in this big dream of travelin’ and singin’.  But I’m not complaining.  Every day I stared out the bus window, watching the cars fly by and the trees sway in the wind, I kept pinching my imagination at the thought that I’m doing just what I’ve longed to do.  Since starting bands in high school, people would always ask, “What do you wanna do?  Do you wanna make it big?”  All I could ever say was, “I just wanna travel and see the world and play for people.”  And I’m doing it and I’m very grateful.  I don’t know how it happened.  Maybe my ancient hunch was right.  I guess you do have to go with your guts.  Well, I went and here I am.  I think the Dude, Jeffrey Lebowski, would say…...“F***in’-A”.  Or maybe just, “Nice Marmot.”  Either way,  if you made it out to the shows and saw us for the first time AND liked it, thank you.  I hope you tell your friends and I hope you come back.

So now I’m back at home, on a little Macbook, typing in the light of the sunset, amidst 90+ degree Minnesota summer heat.  Damn, it’s hotter here than anywhere else we’ve been.  I stepped outside this morning and felt like I was drunk.  Simply put, I have a massive tour/travel hangover.  But it’s all good.  In my spare time these past two days, I’ve been listening to the live shows Bob Schneider’s sound man, Jay Thomas, made for us.  I’ve organized about 15 discs into a working order for myself, and I’ll be compiling a “live show” of the tour—that is, my favorite cuts of each of the songs we played while out in May and June.  Pretty soon, I’ll have these up on the website for listening and purchasing.  I have to say…they sound pretty good.  And it’s really interesting to hear the evolution of the tunes from night to night.  I feel like I sang way better on the second leg.  It’s like I had digested the song more and distilled the essence down a little more.  And the band plays their asses off on nearly every tune.  Early on, my manager told me that I’d see this kinda thing take shape….I was thinking, nah…we’ve got it down….but he’s right.  It’s getting better and better each time and that feels good.  Now it’s my goal to remove all the needless banter and get to the songs.

This last leg in June, though much shorter, was a little tougher.  We played almost every night and usually had to drive like bats outta hell to get there.  The east coast stretch between Boston and DC was a little easier but we did have to do some criss-crossing that felt mildly unnecessary.  Oh well.  Everywhere we went, we were in good spirits and the band was psyched for every show.  New York City was especially fun.  We had a helluva time getting in that joint.  If it’s that hard to get into Heaven, I’ll just bee-line to Hades, no problem.  First we couldn’t get through the Holland Tunnel.  Police searched the trailer and told us to re-route back out to the Lincoln Tunnel.  We were already in crazy bumper-to-bumper traffic, so this was a little daunting.  Everyone was scared we weren’t gonna make the gig.  So we headed to the Lincoln Tunnel and the sign at the toll area said, “No propane tanks”.  Obviously, being on a grandma/grandpa RV, we have one.  But there was no way we could turn around and enter the city through the George Washington Bridge.  So with held breath and crossed fingers, we strolled up to the window.  Two cops came out and said “where’s the propane?” Daryl, my drummer and driver, looked em square in the eye and said, “propane?  we don’t have any propane!”  They responded, “you mean to tell me you made it all the way from minneapolis to the big apple with no propane?”  Everybody was freaking out.  This is it.  We’re gonna have to turn around and miss the first f****ing NYC show!  Dammit!!!! 

But no.  Daryl reached into his bag of tricks and pulled out the clencher:  “Hey man, we’re in a band!”  I guess that was the secret password.

We made it through tunnel, collectively cheering, smiling, and having a group panic attack.  Daryl won the Gold Star and we were headed to the Bowery Ballroom for a crazy night of jamming.  It was one of our favorite shows.  I just wish we could’ve seen a little more of the city.  The only view we got other than riding to the gig via Broadway, was a lost jaunt through Queens on our way.  Next time, we come, we’re staying longer and we’re gonna dance in the streets.

DC was chill.  I can’t say much about the city because we didn’t really see it.  I remember flying by the Washington Monument and imagining that big pool of water below near the Lincoln Memorial where everyone gathered the unify the nation long ago.  That was cool.  Then we headed by a buncha building that all looked the same.  I figured the Watergate drama ensued somewhere around here.  Oh, there goes the Pentagon.  That was bascially our trip in.

The Birchmere, actually located in Alexandria, is a pretty happening place.  It’s a sit-down dinner club.  Everyone’s gotta stay in their chairs and keep quiet.  They’ve even got little signs at the artist’s request requiring no clapping or major noise.  Crazy!  But it was cool.  The place itself was an oasis for a tired band on the road.  We could stay there overnight, do our laundry, shower, shave, and have free dinner.  Oh hell yeah.  I had pizza because pizza is my favorite food in the world.  I’ll eat pizza with rabbit turds on it if the timing’s right.  But this night it was simply vegetarian.  And good.

Stepping onto the stage at the Birchmere was something I had thus far not experienced.  The lights were really blinding and the crowd was super quiet.  You could hear people’s thoughts.  If you ever want to assasinate an entertainer, this would be the time.  I was blind and ready for the tomato throws.  But the crowd dug it.  We had a short set because a Texas fella named Hayes Carll joined the bill and pushed us back a bit.  He was good.  Chill.  He reminded me of a Southern Mason Jennings.  He had an eternal wobble in his voice that was part of the sound.  I liked it but found it difficult to decipher some of the lyrics which is a bummer because they seemed to be good.  Of all the things I could make out, I liked the performance and Hayes seemed like a pretty good guy.  He was telling us a story about how he played a gig with Bob about five years ago and the bar didn’t pay him offered free drinks all night.  Hayes went on to buy everyone in the bar a shot of Petron and get totally wasted himself. Then he mentioned that he threw his arms around people and told them to check out how big Bob’s head was.  We laughed pretty hard at the image.  Later on,  he and Bob were chatting about evil spirits in Hayes’ house down in Texas.  I didn’t know spirits could be evil.  And yes, Bob does have a big head.  But it looks proportional, so whatever.

Anyway, it was fun show.  I got to see an old high school friend, Eric McNett, which was cool, and my Uncle Jay and Aunt Pam came to the show.  All in all, good time.

Special thanks to the Birchmere for being so cool to us.  You guys rule!  I can’t wait to come back. 

Our last stop on the tour was the Ram’s Head Tavern in Annapolis, the capital of Maryland.  First we had to make a quick stop in Baltimore for a photo shoot with famed photographer Steven Parke.  His studio was located in an older part of the city and I took a sharp turn on one of the old, worn curbs and poof:  blown tire.  It sounded like someone opened fire on the neighborhood bully.  Either that or we ran over a fire hydrant.  I can’t remember the last time I heard a sound like that.  Needless to say, everyone was freaked out.  I was trippin’, that’s for sure.  And the RV’s regular drivers, I won’t name names, had no problem telling me that I screwed up. Thanks for the memo, guys.  Luckily, we had a local repair guy come out and we were able to do the shoot and get the tire changed all at once, so no time was lost.  Win some, lose some, boys.  The universe is balancing itself.

The Ram’s Head seemed like a first cousin to the Birchmere….like a kid cousin with a little more color. They were really strict about the guest list and the place was sold out.  But we rocked it good.  It’s always nice to hear big cheers from a crowd of strangers.  Suddenly, they’re your new friend.  After the show, some lady came up to me and said, “Jason Shannon, you changed my life!”  Wow, I wish I had that kinda pull.  Or maybe not.  I’m cool with just rockin’ out.  I’ll let the saviors sermonize the settlers.  The show was a good one, passed by in the blink of an eye.  Later on, for an encore my boys in the band put those unitards to good use and joined Bob’s for one of his encore songs.  Way to go, boys.

And alas, we’re back. I’m almost outta here.  Got some sashimi tuna on the grill.  Gonna get my grind on.  Special thanks to all my friends and new friends who made it out to the show and supported the band along the way.  If I didn’t specifically name you, my apologies.  We had a real blast and I can’t wait to get back out.  We’re working on some tours right now.  I can’t be specific, but we’ll back very soon.  In the meantime, I’m gonna hunker down and do some writing…...

Until then, take care!

peace,

jason