12 May 2025 - Last Post of Tour

And somehow here we are, some 38,000 feet in midair, traveling at 550 miles per hour, just passing Greenland (still its own country, as far as I know, although I have admittedly been blissfully ignoring the news.  How’s everything going out there? All better?). 20 days of touring, over just like that!

Let’s see, when last I wrote, I was just over here, preciously waxing poetic about Shetland.  And somehow a whole week has passed. What could we have possibly been up to in the interim?

GIGS, of course you silly.

After decamping and disembarking from the Northlink Shetland Ferry, after wishing farewells and see you soons to all of our debaucherous and melodious summer camp pals, after retrieving our beloved van from its lonely spot in Aberdeen, we headed down the road to Edinburgh, our second home in Scotland.

As readers and followers of this blog know, we have spent many a day in Edinburgh and have out down some solid friend roots there, so it very much feels like settling into a comfortable routine when we arrive. We roll into our digs and enjoy a day of semi-leisure, culminating with a victorious lunch at Mother India (yes, we’re here to play music, I swear) and a memory-laden walk around the city (poor poor Rudy, having to hear the three old men tell tales of past exploits as we slowly stroll the streets: “this is where we . . . wait, what did we do here? Jake, do you remember?” and so on.). It is something to consider that we have been visiting this place for 17 years (with a 7 year hiatus, admittedly). Hard to believe that we are all so spry, still.  OK, to business:

May 6, 2025: Edinburgh Tradfest at the Traverse Theatre.  Hosted by our dear pals, Jane-Anne and Douglass, who introduced us by saying that we would be charged a 100% tariff on our payment that evening (har har). It was an audience filled with many familiar faces, including a young woman named Ena who first saw us many years ago, when she was perhaps 10 (some may argue that her parents ought to have received some counseling regarding this decision, but so it goes).  At the time she drew a picture of me, singing our song Peaches. I’m pretty sure at the time she thought the song was about fruit. After the show we caught up with friends at a nearby pub and then headed home to sleep the sleep of the dead.

May 8: Settle Victoria Hall - Settle  This is a lovely little venue in a town that is at the “Gateway to the Dales”. It is, apparently, the oldest continuously running venue in the world (someone told me the Universe, but I just can’t make the odds work out). We played to a small but appreciative and then returned to our hosts’ - Jean and David – great spot in the neighboring town of . . . Giggleswick. We really try hard not to have fun at the expense of anyone, and certainly I hope no one takes this personally, but man do we love these town names: Quarff, for example. 

Before leaving town the next morning, we took the advice of our hosts, who are both avid hikers, bikers, and outdoorspeople, and took a walk in the hills outside of town. Now, I’m not saying that this hike beat us, but I will say that nearly every other person on this hike was a solid 20-30 years older than us and had clearly been doing this circuit for longer, if their steady pace and unfailing progress was any indication. We made it, though.  We’re very fit!

May 9: The Ropewalk – Barton Upon Humber.  Notable things about this location: 1) it’s housed in the site of the old rope factory, and as such the building itself it nearly 1km in length; 2) it’s right near a goddamned gorgeous bridge; 3) it’s close to the Humber Estuary, home of some fabulous tidal flats; and 4) they treated us so incredibly well. It isn’t for us to know how an organization gets its funding, but given the amount of places like this, who greet us with coffees and teas, ply us with snacks (a whole damned cheese plate), feed us delicious dinners, and provide excellent sound and lighting technicians, AND puts us up for the evening, it remains a vexing mystery why some venues continue to treat musicians like commodities rather than artists (you know who you are). Anyway, we had a great time and hope to be back.

The following morning we stumbled upon what MAY very well be this band’s new tour pastime – birding! We found ourselves at the Far Ings Nature Reserve (which  I found especially interesting as the ponds there are former clay pits that have been very successfully restored as marshland).  Anyway, we sat silently in bird blinds and watched the drama of the avian world unfold around us – terns, coots, moorhens, harriers, ring necked ducks, sandvale geese, and some especially dick-ish swans. Honestly it’s the perfect activity for 4 fellers who have been together for 18 days, as it demands silence.

May 11: The Ropetackle – Shoreham Upon Sea:  Our FINAL gig of this run, in ANOTHER rope-related venue. This one is at the former site of 17th century ship building – galleons, no less! Before rocking up to the gig, we slouched around Brighton for a few hours, taking in the somewhat seedy and glorious sites of the beachfront and the narrow alleyways of The Lanes. We even caught a bit of our pal Tom – bassist and cellist who was playing with Margo Cilker at Shetland - and one of his many bands – the 9 Blind Mice – busking along the waterfront. The gig went great, and Tom brought out a bunch of his pals from Dr. Bluegrass (another of his bands).

An especially poignant moment at this gig was during the set break.  A woman came up to me and, in an especially British way (aka polite and sensitive of my time) let me know that she and her sister had come on a whim, having recently experienced a very shitty 3 months. She was so grateful to us, saying “I have not stopped smiling this whole time!  I can’t remember the last time I did this!”.  We have heard this a number of times on this tour, and all I can say is that it is a job that we take very seriously. We are quite aware that there are plenty of bands who play it far more traditionally or with more virtuosity, but our number one aim has always been and always will be to entertain, and it is gratifying to know that those efforts are appreciated.

OK, time to pay attention to my airplane movie.  I have forgotten how much I enjoy the blogging, so perhaps it won’t be 7 years between entries . . .

20250509 - Shetland Download

All aboard the Aberdeen-bound ferry! Today your shipmates include a full complement of wild-eyed, sleep deprived, alcohol addled musical revelers. Please ply them with pints but also make sure they have something to eat. They will not bite, but they may stop speaking mid-sentence, staring onto the middle distance as though possessed by a sense of longing for times in the recent past or perhaps simply attempting to catch a fleeing train of thought, flitting away into a deepening tunnel of exhaustion and exhilaration.

Hello!  It’s me, PF Hot Seats!  Once again reporting from a North Sea ferry; this time headed south.  Back to the mainland, back to the real world, back to a land that is, frankly, dull in comparison to the high latitude musician’s sleepaway camp of the Shetland Folk Festival!

Some 13 years ago, I wrote about our experience, comparing it to the nostalgic feeling of emerging from a beautiful dream. Working as hard as possible to grasp the wisps and shreds of a month of memories and moments that have been jammed into 4 glorious days (bookended by 12 hr ferry rides that act as entrance and exit journeys to and from Shangri-La (Shetra-La? Shangretland?)). Was it real? Are we real? Are we even awake? Would we want to be?

I’ll try not to repeat myself too much, although it WAS 13 years ago, so I imagine that no one is checking too closely.

As with our last trip to Shetland (2012!), the whole thing begins with a ferry ride from Aberdeen to Lerwick. All of the fresh faced musicians and punters (not an insult?) board, get settled, and then almost immediately descend upon the bar for drinks and tunes. Apparently, at some point over the last few years, Northlink (who runs the ferry) has decided that there should be an 11pm curfew on music and general carousing. While shocking in the moment, it is probably a wise move, given the absolute tidal wave of merriment, late nights, music playing, chatting, and drinking which is to follow. 

We stuff ourselves into our 4 berther (pretty small for 4 grown stinky snoring (3/4 of us) and sweating dudes), and sleep the night away. Upon landing and debarking in Lerwick, buried memories begin to emerge from the cloudy back of my brain. We are shuffled over to the Festival Club, our second home for the next 5 days, for bacon sandwiches, coffee, and more of the moments of “didn’t we play a gig together way back when . . .?” that happens for so many musicians. Others are having straight up family reunions, which is also lovely to see.  We Hot Seats might be more like the somewhat shunned members of that family – catching sidelong glances and looks of semi-recognition.

We meet our hosts – Maggie and Andy – who whisk us away to our FIRST home for the festival -their truly wonderful house. As I have written at length in the past, we live or die by the graciousness and generosity of those living saints who choose to take in bands, feed us, and allow us to lay about their house. Over our years, we have managed to ingratiate ourselves to many (something about this band inspires the Mother Duck impulse in so many. They take a look at us and say to themselves “these fellows need a shower, a meal, and a bed”), and Maggie and Andy very quickly rose towards the top of these ranks. The house itself is lovely and large, with rooms very every band member. In those rooms we each had our own window ledge array of chocolates, shortbread, and a small decanter of whiskey(!). Andy had even gone so far as to fold our towels into the shapes of elephants! 5 Star accommodation!

We would also quickly learn that this house was the party house, meaning that when the Festival Club closes at 3am, many musicians and others end up in their well-appointed basement (far from the sleeping quarters) for another 3-5 hours of music making and revelry. The fridges stay stocked, and Andy is rabid about houseguests doing NO cleaning. I could go on forever about these two lovely people, but we shall move on.

I won’t go into every gig, except to say that we played 9 over the course of 4 days – Brae Village Hall, Sandwick School (our wriggliest audience with the best questions and most autograph seekers), Festival Club, Legion Hall (11:30pm start to our second wriggliest audience, albeit a pretty drunk and rowdy one, allowing us to stretch our bar band muscles), Legion Hall (afternoon), Mareel (where we got to see our beloved soundman/friend/rock star pal Tim), Clickimin Centre, Legion, Mareel). Every show was a blast.

It is always a little intimidating (to me, anyway. Rudy is an unflappable guy) at first when we are thrown into a situation of being surrounded by REAL musicians – the kind that play epic music with melodies and endless space for musical breaths. We start to feel a little like a three wheeled jalopy, binking and bonking our way down the highway next to flashy sports cars and luxury sedans. However, we get over it pretty quickly and lean hard into what we like to believe sets us apart – silly quantities of energy, hyper fast tunes, and, as always, humour (note the “u”). It’s a silly fear, of course. We were invited to come, after all, but it should speak to the level of musicians at this thing.  And speaking of . . .

Not only are the crowds receptive and appreciative, but we also get to hang with so many other great bands. In the interest of wrapping up some time before I hit 10,000 words, I’ll not graphically describe each of them, however we spent a lot of time with a great young group called Astro Bloc – Gillie, Paul, Eryn, and Eadaoin. It came out in our first gig together that Eryn had seen us and opened for us roughly 15 years ago at Lanton Village Hall when she must have been 6 or 7. Well, she recently won BBC Scotland’s Young Traditional Musician of the Year, so . . . you’re welcome, Scotland.

We also got to spend a lot of down time with fabulous fiddler and hilarious person, Ross Couper, of the Peat Bog Faeries and other projects. Ross is one of those magic people who are propelled forward by sleep deprivation and drink (unlike your intrepid narrator, who gets so sleepy!). He is often the party starter and the party finisher, and we are very happy to have gotten to know him. 

If all of this seems a bit scattered, that’s because the whole experience is impossible to break the Shetland experience into constituent parts. I’m running out of steam, but I would be absolutely remiss if I failed to shout out the level of organization and coordination achieved from the entirely volunteer festival committee. Mhari, David, Louise, Christine, Christine, Lisa, Lewie, and all the rest. They are NON-STOP – running from gig to gig, solving musicians’ endless little problems, smiling, laughing, drinking, dancing, joking, and egging us on to keep the party moving, all while running the smoothest set of multi-variables that you can imagine.

After the final goodbyes, ferry ride, retrieving the van, and moving down the road, we were all taken by a sense of . . . not exactly sadness, but something akin to it. The 4 days of the Shetland Festival is a lifetime and an eyeblink. Every moment stretches to the horizon and is rich and exciting, but you turn your head and your back on the ferry, waving goodbye to beloved people that you have known for 96 hours and also for your entire life. 

Let’s not make it another 13 years, eh Festival Committee?

Final tour blog in a couple of days . . .

Notes from the Road: May 2, 2025!

Hello internet denizens!

 

PF Hot Seats, reporting back to blogging duty after SO SO SO many years away.  I will admit, it is harder for me to write posts when we are not traveling and playing music.  There’s something about endless highways, bottomless coffee, and vegetable-less diets that really excites the old writing bug in me!  Probably the sleep deprivation helps - the old brain goes into fight or flight mode and gets all chatty.  

Well well well, lookee who’s on tour?  It’s us!  The Hot Seats.  The current lineup is comprised of Benny, Jake and yours truly, with the new addition of the one and only Rudy Bee, who has adjusted immediately to the slapdash and silly way we like to travel, sliding into his van seat as though it was molded to his posterior. 

We are having a great time visiting some familiar places and some new ones.  As I type, I am sitting in the green room/dining area at Brae Village Hall - our first gig of the fabulous Shetland Festival, but more on that in a moment.  Let’s take a step back to discuss the places we’ve been!

I will mention a few things off the bat so as to not repeat myself.  

1. Every crowd so far has been fabulous. Not all of them huge in number, but every one of them has been super appreciative, responsive, and a joy to play for.

2. Every sound situation has been great (not always a given for this band).  The UK has a real thing for professional sound people, unfazed by our mics and our tubas, and we are grateful for it.

3. The band is sounding pretty dang tight.

• April 23:  We emerge from Heathrow, groggy but excited. We retrieve the rental van - a brand spanking new Renault diesel 9 seater - and head into London. The first gig of tour was at the Green Note in Camden - a spot we have hit on multiple occasions. It was a typically great evening - a small but appreciatice crowd, great sound, and tasty vegan eats. We revved up a set of old favorites as it was this ensemble’s virgin voyage. We hit the road for our hotel in the town of Boxmoor (well, Apsley, actually) and crashed hard.

• April 24: The Fishery Wharf Cafe in Boxmoor. We had visited this spot and its owner, Al, once before, but only to drop off a bass. It is super cool. Boxmoor is an offshoot of a larger London suburb and exists right on the Grand Union Canal. There is a whole subculture of people who live in these really fascinating canal boats - tied up along the canal or moving up and down through the locks. It seems very appealing to us.

• April 25: Selby Town Hall: We celebrated the fact that we had last been here almost exactly one decade ago (ah, remember 2015? The cautious optimism, the relative civility of the world, the lack of creeping fascism? No, I don’t remember it either. . .). A packed room, some special requests, and great times with Chris, the manager of the theater, who we had the pleasure of working with back in that imaginary time period.

• Following the gig, we made our way to the house of our dear friends, Jane and Paul.  I’ve written about them before - two of our favorite people to impose upon. Formerly residing in Darlington, they now live in an idyllic location directly next to Castle Bolton, not far from Richmond England.  As per usual, they spoiled us with food, friendship, and all kinds of hospitality (note to aspiring band patrons: your late night cheese plate must have at LEAST 5 types of cheese in order to pass muster).  For more on Jane and Paul, see blog posts of yore.

• April 26: Cumberland Arms - Newcastle: We have been visiting Newcastle on a regular basis since 2008(!). As such it was a treat to see so many familiar faces, including Graham of the Jumping Hot Club, who put us on at the Cluny in our very first tour. It’s fun to change up the kinds of rooms we play, and the Cumberland Arms falls more into the bar mode than the theater or club mode, which gave the show a more informal feel. We had support from Niles (fiddler of a group called the Often Herd) and Bertie. They played some very pretty tunes and songs, providing a good contrast to our . . . rougher sounds. We head back to Castle Bolton following the gig for more late night cheeses and chats.

• April 27th: Glad Cafe - Glasgow: This was a new venue for us in a very familiar city.  It was an afternoon show, which we were trepidatious about, but it very quickly became apparent that this crowd was there for the party! It was made more raucous by the presence of our beloved Gerald Roche, his two sons, and our former agent and current friend Loudon Temple, not to mention our old pal Graham from the band Bensider. We had a great show, followed by some more delicious vegan food. 

• Why do I feel the need to bring up the vegan cuisine? Sometimes the presence of green things on one’s plate is a notable moment, what can I say?

• After the gig, we headed north towards our hotel in the lovely town of Carrbridge, smack dab in the middle of the Cairngorms (I know these sound like made up things, but I swear they are REAL). The Cairngorms are a bit like the Blue Ridge Mountains, full of crinkly hills and cool metamorphic rock features. We took full advantage, going on a number of cool walks in the woods and rivers, skipping stones, and generally living out our full Scottish Huck Finn fantasies – pants rolled up, chewing straws, etc.

• April 28th: Duffus Village Hall – Duffus: This is a town all the way up in NE Scotland, right on the coast. Not far from the towns of Findhorn or Portsoy, where we have previously visited. Our hosts, Brian and Camille, along with Brian’s energetic and switched-on brother David, are excellent people who are VERY into the arts and specifically folk music. It was gratifying to have a town hall jammed with people be so appreciative. We ended the evening with a couple of songs in the middle of the crowd, which resulted in eruptions of impromptu dancing. Do be careful, ladies and gentlemen, this is known to happen. Be sure to gird your loins in preparation.

• Because of their aforementioned focus on folk music (oh, and whiskey), the band ended up jamming and talking at Brian and Camille’s house until the sun was peeping over the horizon.

• The following morning, they took us on a great walk to some caves on the coast, where we tossed rocks into the ocean, explored the beach, and confronted our inner Jungian ideals in caves.

• April 29th: Montrose Folk Club – Montrose: This represents our very first time playing in front of a giant movie screen! I made a few hilarious Dolby sound jokes, which went over about as well as they probably are right now as you read this. I also tried to sing “let’s go out to the lobby” to general silence.  It was a great show and a lively crowd in a very dead room – not bereft of energy, but just no reverberations at all, which can make a group of guys like us a little nervous sometimes. Nonetheless, they were very appreciative and we got to see our pal Ruth as well as Colin, who has been seeing us ever since our very first tour with the Wilders, back in 2008! 

• We spent the night at a cool hotel near Lunan Bay on the east coast. After having our various full English breakfasts (no beans, no thanks. Black pudding and mushrooms? Hell yes!), we took a hike past an old castle and down to the beach, where we stripped to our skivvies and took VERY cold dips in the water!

OK, I have gotten us up to the point of the Shetland Folk Festival, which I will tackle in my next offing.  A few other notable things:

·      Being American in 2025: you might expect that people would be demanding answers from us, or at least wanting to talk about the goings on of our absolutely bat-shit stupid government. However, mostly we are being treated like refugees from a failed state – i.e. compassionately. Which is just fine with us.

·      Being in our 40s on tour: Unsurprisingly (or maybe not?), we are generally tamer and calmer than we once were – more interested in quiet rooms of friends and  comfortable beds than in late night pubs and random couches. That being said, we have entered Shetland time, where no one sleeps and everyone gets wild as hell, so you’ll find out more in the next post!

 

 

August 2, 2018

Thursday, August 2, 2018 – in a van headed . . . north?

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday! Good people of the internet, The Hot Seats are moving again! Like the great leviathan, we emerge from the deep, awakened by some cosmic disturbance. Could it be the geopolitical storms a’brewin’? Could it be the silent cries of the world, demanding more wild hillbilly gesticulations? Could it be the deep hunger for doner meat? It’s probably the last one. Regardless of the method, that cat is skinless and ready for its ritual and we are once again on a UK tour.

We’re just over the 1 week mark of our 20 day excursion, leaving Liverpool and heading for Kilbarchan, our old stomping grounds. We look forward to seeing many familiar faces and eating some familiar curries!

We began our tour down in the deep south of England at the Beer and Bluegrass Festival in Poole. I like a festival that doesn’t mince words. No need for a crafts area or waterslide, the sign says “Beer and Bluegrass.” Look one direction, it’s a tent full of 30+ real ales, turn 180°, there’s a stage with a variety of bluegrass acts. Done. We had the pleasure of meeting and picking with a whole . . . well, what do you call a conglomeration of string band musicians?  A gaggle? A jumble? I’m going to say a tangle. We met a tangle of young and highly energetic bluegrass pickers from all over the UK and Ireland and, I must say, they seem to be growing them well over here. Of special note were our new pal’s the Agnew family – Reuben, Benjamin, and Tabitha – who were members of about 60% of the bands at this festival. The festival, put on by a very fun man named Martin, culminated with a big superjam, led by us, featuring the Agnews, plus fiddlers named Lori and Kieran, a great dobro picker whose name I’ve lost, and an American singer from Portland named Wesley Randolph Eader, who has a fabulous voice and writes great, Prine-y songs.

It was a fun weekend of shows, highlighted, for me, by the surprise presence of my father, PF Senior (you probably didn’t know I was a Junior, well, it’s complicated). In addition to getting to play some music, we took the opportunity to explore the Jurassic Coast, seeing some cool geology (if you believe in that kind of thing) and lovely coves and blowholes. There’s a bit of a heat wave going on here right now, and the English people were out in full, showing off their sun-hidden torsos and reclusive legs.

On day 3 of the festival, we were reunited with our own personal UK Sherpa, the one and only Gerry Roche. Feels so good to be back in the van again. We know that Gerry drives a lot of bands around, and that each band must have their own special relationship with him, but I do wonder if any other band has the properly foul sense of humor and thick skins to truly appreciate him as we do. Gerry Roche, a man of his own time, not made for the #MeToo era, formed from his own mold. It’s good to see him.

We spent a few days languishing in Yorkshire at our friends Jane and Paul’s house. For a full appreciation of our benefactors, see past blogs. I’ll only say that, perhaps there’s something about this band that signals to kind-hearted people “take us in, feed us and let us use your laundry machine, for we are tired, hungry, and grubby.” It must be genetic – the same pheromones given off by puppies, baby humans, and all manners of small and helpless things. You know what they say, flaunt it if you’ve got it!

We managed to get a night of music in at the Quakerhouse in Darlington, and were once again treated like old friends. We do enjoy all the types of gigs we get to play – both the well-appointed theaters with respectful audiences, the large-stage festivals with dancers and picnic-ers, and the small pubs where the audience is quite literally right on top of us and we are handed more drinks than we asked for, without fail. Thanks to Shelly for hosting us again!

Yesterday, we travelled across the country. First to Liverpool where we played a short set on BBC Merseyside with Jenny Lee Summers. As a radio person, I love every opportunity we have to visit any BBC studio – they are always so well run and efficient. Jenny was a great host, and, much to our surprise, was well-versed in the world of old time and bluegrass music! Our visit to downtown Liverpool was capped by our very own Edward receiving a littering ticket from a local constabulary. OK, yes, Ed shouldn’t have tossed his butt on the sidewalk, no one is arguing this, however . . . it’s not like Liverpool’s streets are immaculate. Being a good citizen of the world, Edward paid his fine ASAP (much to the general feeling of “well, what are they really going to do about it”) and has vowed ever throwing anything onto the ground again!

From there we hoofed it to Southport for our gig at the Atkinson Theatre. Southport is a breezy Victorian beach town, complete with fun houses and amusement parks. Jake, Ben, and I took a short walk out a long pier. It must have been low-tide, as there were miles of exposed sand and mudflats, extending very far out. As you may remember from my 2008 publication “Spatial Trends in Tidal Flat Shape and Associated Environmental Parameters in South San Francisco Bay,” the convexity/concavity of tidal flats is largely determined by their exposure to wind/wave energy, as opposed to strictly tidal forcings. I’d say, from a glance, there’s not much wave action here. I’d have to take some measurements to know for sure . . .

The gig was a good’un. Apparently, the Atkinson had suffered some water damage recently, and we were put into a different, slightly larger, room as a result of there being a GIANT HOLE in the middle of the stage in the original space – a possible setback to say the least. Nonetheless, the crowd was sufficiently large and energetic to make us feel right at home. Thanks to Colin for putting on a great show!

We’ve been trying out a bunch of new material at these shows. Our new album, Stupid Mountain Too Big, represents the first time that we actually came to the studio with new music, as opposed to playing songs out for years and then laying them down on an album. As such, many of these numbers are undergoing the natural mutation that occurs as we get comfortable in them – stretching them out, flipping parts over to find the cool side, etc. Much of this material is a little more sincere than our past work (at least it seems so to me, and I’m the one who wrote most of it). Turns out, it’s easier to make eye contact when you’re being ironic than when we actually mean what you say! How do people do it?

Hopefully, you, dear reader, will get a chance to hear some of this music live! However, if you are in one of the myriad of places we are NOT visiting, I do hope you’ll check it out online. I, for one, am pretty proud of the album, and think that it represents a slight change from our normal fare (though never fear, there is plenty of snark on there as well).

OK, there’s a crossword puzzle waiting for me that isn’t going to solve itself (thanks for nothing, Elon Musk). From the exciting and sexy world of the tour van, I bid you adieu!

Next time: how to be an American abroad in 2018 (hint: lots of apologizing).

August 28, 2016

August 28, 2016

In a B&B near Corfe Castle, Dorset

Listening to: Ivor Cutler – Jammy Smears (thanks to Tim Dalling)

Hello intrepid trekkers of techno terrain!

Greetings from the Jurassic Coast!  (I know, you thought it would be this, but alas). We're having a bit of a lie in, as they say, after a super fun first night of music and general carousing at the Purbeck Folk Festival. It wasn’t too many hours ago that Ben, Jake, and I were sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor of a well appointed teepee, singing blues-y and old time songs with our new pals in Screamin’ Ms. Jackson & The Slap Yo Mama Big Band. We hit some great classics from a variety of jug bands, and I love hearing them sung with an English accent. Here’s to us having more fun with them in the future.

We’re here for another night, and then one more gig in Devizes before we head out.  I’ll not go through every moment of every gig since my last post, but I would like to hit some highlights. Please forgive me if you witnessed something that I don’t include. The brain is a fickle beast, and I, unlike the constantly journal-ing Jake, don’t write any reminders. If you’d like a daily mini accounting, might I suggest our Instagram feed. It’s mostly pictures of food, gastropods, and sleeping, but it does fill in the gaps.

When last I wrote, we were headed to Birnam. It was our 3rd or 4th time at this spot, and they always treat us well. We walked to see the Birnam Oak, I reminisced about my childhood Peter Rabbit paraphernalia (including a sweet soft boiled egg holder, don’t you know?), and we played a fun show. It was especially nice to see our friends Colin and Lorna, who have been seeing us yearly since our first time over in 2008. We played their fave – Silver Bells Polka.

Here’s a Tweet-style breakdown of the rest of the gigs . . .

Eastgate Theatre – Peebles: Whiskey shop times, always great to work with Richard the soundman (one more gig together and I believe we’ll be common-law married), solid show with inappropriate songs being requested by teenaged girls.

Otley Courthouse – The M1 is really a great road, especially when you can enjoy it at 0 mph. Large and enthusiastic crowd, twisty late night drive to our digs.

Reeth – beautiful countryside, small room packed with avid listeners. Learned a lot about the various Richmonds of the world.

Saltburn By The Sea – we rode a water powered funicular cliff lift! Fish N Chips by the ocean. Beautiful hall with appreciative crowd.

Darlington Quakerhouse – last minute pickup gig, rowdy fabulous pub crowd, lots and lots of real ale!

Newcastle – finally get to meet Rob Heron, face to face. The man, the legend. Speaking of legends, we got to catch up with Tim Dalling, of New Rope fame. Small room, packed out. Lebanese meat fest for dinner.

Martletwy – what a spot! Tiny Calvinist chapel down single track roads. Stunning surroundings, acoustic performances, thanks to Keith and Jackie!

Llanfyrnach – just try to pronounce it! (hint: none of those are correct). Beautiful skies at sunset, nice to play in new spot where there is a burgeoning gig scene. 

Camden Town – our best gig at the Green Note yet! We love being a big band on a small stage – it really lets us enjoy our musk. Great to meet new people and see some familiar faces.

Phew!  Ok, I know that was a bit light on detail so let me elaborate in a few areas:

1) I have often gone on about the virtues of adopted patrons in far flung places. You’ve read about Bill and Sue and their generosity. I will double down on that sentiment, and also add our new friends Jane and Paul into the mix.  The allowed us to invade their house and environs for 6 days on this trip. We were fed, watered (aka provided alcohol), and generally looked after in ways far beyond what we deserve.

It’s one of the best parts of traveling and playing music – meeting new excellent and interesting people and getting to glimpse into their lives. Jane even set me up with a running club to train with on one of the days. Good luck to Shelly & the rest on their 1st Half Marathon!

2) Speaking of good people, in Martletwy, we were introduced to our new best pal, Jackie (all of us but Ben, who was already acquainted). Jackie is a fiddler and booker in her part of Wales with connections to the old time scene in the UK. She also lives and works at a place called the Stackpole Estate, the former huge property of the Campbells of Scotland. It’s a now kind of a nature reserve with marshes, woodlands, and sandy beaches surrounded by limestone cliffs. She took us on a nice walk through the wilderness. A few of us even went swimming. I’ve experienced colder water, but not much! We’re a hardy bunch, and when we see a beach, we get in that water! Apologies to any beach goers who were horrified by our tour bodies.

3) After leaving Jackie’s, we were invited to visit another new friend, Liam, who runs a small chocolate empire called Nomnom, based in Llanboidy (note: to make the “Ll” sound, stick your tongue on the top of your mouth at the front of your palette, and make a C sound, allowing air and spit to escape out the side of your mouth). Liam and his associate Lili gave us a tour of their facilities and we tasted many chocolatey things, including a bar that they are rolling out in preparation of Cardiff’s City of the Unexpected celebration of Roald Dahl’s centenary. The bar had four different flavors – Vomit, Snot, Burnt Toast, and Moldy Tea – all in one bar. Nomnom is pretty deliberate in their sourcing of chocolate and the care with which they make each bar. Get you one.

Before we left Llanboidy, Liam took us across the way from the cowshed where they are currently making chocaolate to an abandoned cholate farm. What’s a chocolate farm? Well, they aren’t growing cocoa there, but it’s way more than a factory. It was a series of whimsical buildings that used to house a boutique chocolatier who only made candy to be consumed on the premises. It was all decommissioned and had a very palpable Shining meets scary clown feel, including a room full of scary clown dolls, the many many plastic molds of rabbits, pigs, bears, and other things you might want in chocolate form, and multi colored walls. Nomnom is going to be moving into the space and creating essentially a giant maker-space for bakers, candymakers, and other things that sound far too story-book to be real except when you are in the depth of the Welsh countryside, surrounded by pixie-dust (which smells a lot like cowshit, it turns out).

4) Bank holidays. Why exactly do we celebrate bankers getting a holiday? Shouldn’t a bank holiday have some component of men in suits with their heads in the stocks, receiving tomatoes to the face? Apparently, a bank holiday is a chance for the entirely of Britain to meet one another while sitting on the motorway. We were tempted at points to get out of our small van and climb into other vehicles around us, just to have different people with whom to speak.

OK, I think that’s enough. There may be a final wrap up or maybe this will be my last UK missive.  We’ll see how Heathrow feels on Tuesday, I imagine. Time for a walk to the Jurassic Coast!  TB and I are hunting for velociraptors! Think they’ll be let through customs?

Until the next time I type words!

PF Hotseats, Out.

August 17, 2016

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

In a van, heading . . . north?

Currently listening to: Bowl Ethereal – Five Minutes

Ahoy!

Over here!

It’s me, PF Hotseats, once again writing to you from my preferred seat – behind the driver but in front of the back seat: the #3 position. Here’s how it pans out, usually: Gerry in the driver’s seat (#1), Eddie rides shotgun (#2), I’m behind Gerry (#3), Jake is on my left (#4), Ben’s behind me (#5), and Graham inhabits the back left (#6). It’s not clear how these arrangements get decided, with the exception of Eddie, who loves the front seat for both the cigarette smoking and also proximity to BBC2. There’s just some kind of elemental magnetism that pulls us towards our seats, like arctic terns, or . . . you know, magnets. After we circle around a few times, sniffing and nesting, we always settle down.

We’re currently crossing the Forth Bridge. On our right is the super cool and well documented train bridge, on our left is the still-in-progress new suspension bridge for vehicles. It’s a funny thing, coming to a place once a year over nearly a decade. Some things seem like they’re frozen in time, and it seems like only a couple of days ago that we saw the initial stages of this bridge being built. This goes for everything. We played to a great crowd at the Harbour Arts Centre in Irvine a few days ago, and I was shocked that Graeme, the longtime soundman and rockabilly legend, has moved on. Of course, it was more than 15 months since last we saw him, and he had been there for many years. Oh why oh why do things need to change?

Some things stay constant. Like certain great fans that have stuck with us and our particular brand of herky jerky bullshit over the many years. Over the last few days we’ve returned to old haunts in the aforementioned Irvine as well as Edinburgh and Kilbarchan. In each venue, we’ve gotten to spend time with these repeat offenders and it feels like a little mini family reunion at this point. Thanks to all of them and to all others who have been coming out.

As with other recent tours, we’ve been taking the opportunity to work on some new original, traditional, and cover songs. It feels good to work out the kinks and have some creative arguments. We’ve recently been playing a song that’s got a few names: Gunz 4 Peace and Glocking in the USA are the top two names. As you might guess, it’s kind of a comment on gun culture in the USA.  If you know our style, you know we’re not much on expressing sincerity (though it does slip out from time time), more often choosing to slip into a posture of ironic distance. This song definitely fits that mold. It’s not funny as much as it is incredibly frustrating and depressing that we’d feel compelled to try and answer for our countrymen’s total fetishization of firearms and their entirely misplaced idea that they could protect themselves from invisible boogeymen with them. It’s especially stark when we’re traveling around over here, where most cops don’t even have guns. Sigh, don’t you wish I was talking about our eating habits? Me too.

Well, since you asked, we have been hitting up all of our usual spots, specifically Mother India, Kabob Mahal, and the late night joy of Café Piccante. Folks, the other night, after our especially raucous gig at the Soundhouse in Edinburgh, Jake, Ben and I joined Graham in some wee hours chips and cheese. The draw of this particular delicacy is obvious – grease, starch, cheese (and brown sauce) – however, the feeling of the ~1/3 lb of potatoes and dairy was very different upon waking. Now, keep in mind, 2 years ago Graham had this particular concoction EVERY NIGHT for many weeks on a recent tour. To contemplate the state of his innards is akin to peering into the vast infinite blackness of the universe: best left to experts and madmen.

Ooh, just passing the Scone Palace. Mmmm. Scone Palace. Right on the shores of Jam Lake.

Tonight we’re heading to the Birnam Arts Centre, located in the summer home of Beatrix Potter. Also, right down the road from Birnam Woods and Dunsinane. Heady heady stuff. We played our first gig with the fabulous Wilders here, way back in 2008. If memory serves, I left a pair of boots here. Wonder if they still have them . . .

OK, enough.

PF Hotseats, moving on.

August 13, 2016

Saturday, 13 August, 2016    

In a van headed north

Current listen: Deceit – This Heat

Hello sweet and loyal internet denizens,

PF Hotseats here, once again reporting to you from a moving vehicle. Don’t worry, I’m not currently driving, and my seatbelt is fastened. We know some bands like to play it fast and loose when it comes to safety, but not us! Before every trip begins, our band Safety Officer – Edward “Eyes Front” Brogan – checks everybody’s helmet, 5-point harness, and (of course) cup to make sure we are protected from any and all hazards. Sure there’s some chafing, oh, you’ll have some chafing, but the piece of mind that we are protecting America’s most valuable assets makes all the hassle well worth any soft tissue inconvenience. Plus, you’d be amazed at the variety and innovation taking place in the modern lotion industry. To look at us walk and perform, you’d never know!

We are just leaving the town of Whitby, home of Bram Stoker – creator of Dracula, the most famous vampire - and Captain Cook – the culture vampire (sorry England, but really, it’s not clear to me that he had a net positive effect on a global scale. I mean, sure, any of us could be eaten by cannibals, but it takes a special kind of invader to find oneself in that situation to begin with). We had a great gig at the Coliseum Centre (yep, I get to spell things like that while I’m over here) last night, fueled by large and delicious fish and chips platters. Nothing like copious grease to get those fingers sliding across the strings! The English audiences really like to keep us guessing. They are so unfailingly polite during the show, it’s often hard for our lizard brains to know whether we are succeeding, or stunning them into disapproving silence! Of course it’s the former, and we had a lot of good conversation following the show.

The night before we had a great time at the Fringe-By-The-Sea in Great Berwick (“Berrick”), performing to a sold out spiegeltent. This time, it was “La Gaiete.” This makes our third spiegeltent, and they remain amazing to us: that these wondrous constructions of wood, glass, and mirrors move around and can be found all over the European continent.  There’s nothing really like them in the US of A, which only means that there’s a market! And, of course, ours will have to be huuuuuuuge! So huge.

Speaking of huge, off the coast of North Berwick is a small (though tall) island called “Bass Rock,” upon which resides a massive colony of gannets. According to the very helpful gentleman who turned Jake and me away from the shorebird educational centre because we didn’t want to pay, over 150,000 gannets live there from January to October. Now, setting aside the smell, which must be powerful, wouldn’t you want to be a gannet? Just hanging out with 149,999 of your best friends, squawking and diving for fish with your powerful beak? Just preening and pooping whenever you want, then flying thousands of miles for some different fishy fare? Ah to be a gannet . . . or maybe I just want some more fish. 

Behind the wheel is our tormentor and mother hen, Gerry “Tough Luck” Roche. He had a series of van mishaps over the last 3 days, beginning before our tour even commenced. Let’s go ahead and make a timeline, shall we?

1)    Gerry gets a new van, finally retiring the “Womb of Woe” that he’d been driving for years (thank all that is good in the world! We back seat riders definitely lost brain cells to exhaust fumes over our many months in that metal box)

2)    After less than a month, the new van breaks a timing chain on the M6. “The van was running great,” says Gerry.

3)    On his way to pick us up from Gatwick, Gerry’s rental van has what might be described as a minor mishap – the side of the engine fell off about 80 miles north of London on the M40. He spent 4 hours on the side of the freeway, got towed to London, then had to source another van, all while we were in the air.

4)    We did get a van, and Gerry drove us to North Berwick for our first gig, and then had to turn right around and return the (2nd) rental van to London, then fly BACK to Scotland, get yet another rental, and meet us back at North Berwick the following morning.

5)    As of yesterday, we’ve had to stop once to pull a loose piece of plastic off of the bottom of the van. Who knows what today’s adventure will bring?

So, to recap, over the last 4 days, Gerry has driven the length of England 3 times in 3 different vans. Hard luck doesn’t really describe it. He must have ridden a black cat underneath a ladder factory and straight into a broken mirror shop, spilling a few thousand gallons of salt along the way, all this after having invested heavily in cursed monkeys’ paws. And still he manages to find the energy to keep up a steady stream of quips, insults, angry outbursts, and miscellaneous historical and literary trivia. Whatever he’s got, it should be bottled (it already comes from a bottle, so it shouldn’t be so hard to put it back in).

Tonight we play in Dundee. We had a great gig there in May of 2015, and are hoping to see some familiar faces. At some point, however, all faces start to look familiar. You begin to believe that you’ve met everyone you see at some point in your travels. It’s not especially helpful.

Running list of notable town names we’ve passed thus far:

• Spittal
• Duddo
• Low Cocklaw (I think I’ve mentioned this one before)
• Tweedmouth
• Scremerston
• Twizzel
• Brownieside
• Shilbottle
• Cockle Park
• Cramlington
• Seaton Burn
• Longhorsely
• Conundrum
• Yarm

More to come!

PF Hotseats et al.

A new blog!

Hello sweet internet!

Welcome to our new blog page. Eventually I hope to get all of the vintage posts from the last 10 years up here. But, for the moment, check in here soon for new updates over the next few weeks!

xoxo,

PF HotSeats