April 2005 -Travels with.... Part II

Chapter Twenty Six - PART TWO Travels with Yum Dum Dip, Div Gan and Virtual G April 2005

April 15

How pathetic is it to enjoy doing laundry? I've only done laundry on the road once before with The Bobs - in Germany somewhere (see the 1999 Bob Tale "Die Bobs Tour"). My room became a weird forest of hanging socks, underwear and T-shirts. This Fairfield Inn has in-house facilities. I am, sadly, very proud of myself for getting this done - it meant that with proper planning I could pack less. I can't imagine why Matthew was so unimpressed when I told him I'd timed it perfectly so that I would run out of clean underwear today! We're line checking at 6:30 pm instead of doing a full soundcheck, so I nap, read, vegg out, do emails, and stall lunch until about one, treat myself to a nice steak at the place next door. Yet another gorgeous, crisp spring day in Virginia spent indoors. Matthew balks at going into DC - the Metro isn't convenient to us in Chantilly. Dan stays in his room again all day.... Joe used to do that, too. Is this also a vocal percussionist thing?

Back at the Barns of Wolf Trap, my friend, Kind Sir Eric Wolf brings us salads to eat together and his goofy souvenir coconuts from Spamalot (he and Alex and a buncha Brown alums all went in February... they saw The Gates, too... I'm jealous!). Eric and Beth were married here at The Barns in 1991, and the dressing room I've gravitated towards every time (this is my 8th) is the same one Beth used for the wedding. I always smile when I think of that, and recall that Alex and I had been dating for a few months when I dropped him off at LAX to fly back east for that wedding. Before I pulled away from the curb, he said Those Words to me for the first time. And I said them back.

Amy at 15, in Edison, NJ
Wish I could tell me that it will all be OK

We hear there was a line for tickets tonight even though this show was sold out by last week. The crowd's a bit low energy, but that's not ususual for a Friday night. During "Rhapsody," I have a transporting moment while silently facing Bob Malone during one of his solos. I am suddenly 15 again, sitting on the floor in my room in a garden apartment in Edison, NJ, in jeans and a Billy Joel, 1980 Madison Square Garden, "Glass Houses" tour T-shirt, listening to this piece on the soundtrack to Manhattan. I had gotten the cassette from the library and couldn't hear enough of it. I can see the weave of the cranberry carpet, the striped comforter I finally gave to Goodwill years later in Los Angeles, the posters on the wall from community theater musicals I did. I know exactly who and what I was mooning over, lost in my teen angst. And now I'm standing onstage at Wolf Trap interpreting it in a completely new way, wearing a golden gown (and combat boots, natch), my honey of 14 years and my baby kitty 2500 miles away in our house. For several moments I'm just gone.



After the show we rap with lotsa fans who'd never heard Rhapsody, including Sue, who always brings us food. Tonight brownies and soup await us downstairs! My cousins are here, and friends from the Reston Chorale, and even Fred Parker from Hard Times. Fun fun fun.



April 16

The second most drivingest day of the tour - 6.5 hours in the car - and this time we have a show at the end of the tunnel. Total boringness gives way to coastal beauty for the last 45 minutes or so, but there's plenty of traffic as well: we're in The Hamptons. My brother-in-law from NYC owns a house out here that they rent out in the summer - but he and his family aren't in Amagansett this weekend. Too bad - they'd see us plastered all over town. Posters abound in Sag Harbor for our Bay Street Theater show.

Matthew's Ohio college friends Stephen Hamilton and Bill Burford founded this regional oasis of culture that attracts major talent to the beautiful Eastern end of Long Island. The Roddy McDowall Green Room and the wall with signatures from Alan Alda, Richard Dreyfuss and the like attest to its Star Power. Production photos adorn the lobby walls showing solid regional theater actors (I recognize some from my 80's theater days). I briefly fantasize about spending 6 weeks here doing a real show. Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes I don't!

The show is great. Why is it that even though I feel like I'm singing more these days, I am not as tired and it seems easier? Have I finally gotten used to this gig vocally after 7 years?!?!?! They hand me a folder of press afterwards - I like to see what venues do and sometimes ask for this. Stephen and I discuss our respective pasts as actors and our shared palate for auditions - we both actually enjoyed them. It's true. I always saw them as a chance to say, "Hey, this is what's available to you. You likey?" Nerves were there but I saw them as energy to channel into electricity.

Back at the Baron's Cove Inn it's dead quiet and the air is scrumptiously clean. The night is crisp and inviting. I can see a glimpse of the bay from my room. I don't like the traffic out here, and the oddly L.A.-like, sculpted people on the streets with their designer label lives, but I could deal with the scenery. Spend a winter out here. That would be most cool. Snow on the beach at Montauk Point. Cold, lonely stretches of sand and a clean ocean wind. Sign me up. But I'll need new luggage since the zippers on my rolling garment bag just died. Crap.

April 17



Oh for pete's sake - it's 75 degrees out! We drop Dan and Richard in the East Village and head back up to Central Park West. Matthew drives like a Bat Out of New Jersey, dropping me back at The Newton. This time I had to take a room with a shared bath - something I never do. It's not terrible, just kinda gross. The room itself is great as always. I walk the street fair outside, shower and head downtown to the TKTS booth, landing a great seat for "Shockheaded Peter." My friend Ritt Henn is playing double bass in it, and Sheila once recommended it in glowing tones, "But it's only in London - I don't know when you'll ever get to see it," she said several years ago. Ha! She and I have been kicking around an idea for a new show for a while that would be in this vein, so, itsa good.

I leave a note for Ritt at the stage door then bump into him on the street 30 seconds later. He's not in the show. It's the last night of the British cast - he takes over with the Americans on Tuesday! The gorgeous Little Shubert Theater is, to my taste, the perfect size - 500 seats. The show is English music hall meets Edward Gorey meets Terry Gilliam meets Tim Burton, completely different than the usual Broadway musical fare (most of which is, currently, derivative and schlocky - Mamma Mia! - come on!). Refreshing in this way despite pacing issues, with extremely imaginative design and great performances.

Afterwards I hang with Ritt backstage at the champagne reception for the Brits. As one rolls a suitcase past us I joke, "Oh, guess they're being deported now? Theatrical terrorists or something?" It's fun to see Ritt again (it's been three years or so) but I find myself yelling at the party so it's time to go. I walk all the way up to the Newton - 94th and Broadway. The night is beautiful and hey, I'm back in NY, my old playground after teen drama classes at the Neighborhood Playhouse or HB Studios. Passing the Lincoln Plaza movie house where I saw "Gregory's Girl," I'm a teenager in the Manhattan arcade again. Lincoln Center sparkles to my left. I danced on the fountain with my pal Gerard the day before I left for Syracuse University, 22 years ago.



At the hotel I take a long shower and call Alex, who tells me how sweet our little Boo has been. Alex had to pay the belly toll (this is when Sitka stretches out as long as he possibly can, demanding that his tummy be scritched) 13 times between the door and the top of the stairs when he came home this afternoon. I hope he got receipts! We think Sitka is extra sweet to Alex when I'm gone because, as a once abandoned kitten, he is worried that Alex will go away too. No, my leetle Boo, No! A certain Sitka P. Coldfoot shall be SO SQUOZE by a certain Me when I return. This is an indisputable fact.

April 18

I sleep in fits and starts. Thank god for the air conditioner. I had a sneaking suspicion NY would be hot this trip so I made sure to get a room with AC. Breakfast at the diner next door. The German woman at the counter next to me is from Bremen. When I tell her I've been there several times, she recounts the Stadt Musiker tale - the donkey, dog, cat and rooster who, mistreated by humans, go live on their own and support themselves by forming a band and making music. Sounds just like The Bobs!

WNYC is in the 1 Center Street building, a real beaut as my late Grandpa would say, down by City Hall. The security guard and I have a lovely chat before I head upstairs to see my pal, Soundcheck producer Chris Bannon. Chris has recently returned from vacationing in Rome, a trip that was planned way before the Pope's health began its decline. I asked Chris why he offed the Pope and he wouldn't give me a straight answer! John Schaefer is a great host who The Bobs met many years ago. We have a wonderful 40 minute interview during which he dubs us "post modern a cappella performance artists." YEAH, BABY!

Meeting with our agent, we find she's done exactly what she promised to do for the fall tour, so we're looking forward to some new, bigger places and happy faces. We also discuss Europe, a new record deal and a possible new collaboration with MoMix or another dance company, since that did so well in the 1990's and she handles several dance troupes. Exciting stuff.

Dinner at Artisanal with Sheila and Norma is again a dairy wonderland. This time we have both fondues of the day: a buttery, almost sweet one with truffle-tinged croutons and a sharper, almost cheddary one with apricots. Hoo-weeee! We discuss Shockheaded Peter and the project that its style will inform. What we really need is someone to give us a grant to develop this show. Anyone out there interested?

April 19

My pal Joe and I Starbucks around 10 and plan the Friday schlepping/stayover schedule (we're baaaack in New York Friday). Matthew picks me up at 11, anxious to finish up this tour to deal with some family stuff back home. More illustrations of the dilemmas that come with being a touring performer. We scoop up Richard and Dan downtown and head out to the Bruckner, pointed north to New England. I can hardly believe it's the third week out, and no broken bones or flesh wounds to speak of! At this point, however, Richard is going nuts. He had an allergic reaction to Tom's of Maine deodorant and his armpits have been on fire for days. (Maybe there are beets in it?) Dan is wondering what his new house looks like back in Seattle (he and Allison moved in a week before he left and she has gone to town with it).

Deadheads are sprawled across Northampton for a big show at the Calvin. We can't get to Thorne's Market without tripping (no pun intended) over tyedyed hacky-sackers. And strangely, our awesome posters are not up at the Iron Horse. Although this gig is always a haven for the Bobs Faithful, you can imagine what it's like (to say the least) arriving at a gig to see that your publicity materials have not been used. We normally sell out this place on weeknights, so to see the top section closed is disheartening. The sad fact is, after you send the tools to a venue, it is completely out of your hands whether they are used or not. Then it hits me like a bolt of lightning: It's also SPRING BREAK.

The smaller than usual but mighty show is fun. We premiere "Sandwich Man" and the new "Alabama Song" and throw in "Naming the Band." Northampton is a GREAT place to try out material. Jeff Loonin, a FOB of epic proportions, proudly displays his homemade Bobs T-shirt and a 1983 "From the Mouths of Bobs" EP he bought on E-Bay. Dude! My in-laws are there, as is my friend Valli, holding up well. Valli was my senior year roommate in Syracuse. We both grew up in similar, trying circumstances. We both somehow recovered and moved on, and though our lives went in very different directions (she's a mom and author, works in publishing), we share a very special bond having been there for each other through intense times. I wish her and her mom the best and wish I could stay and help her out, but ya know, I can't.

Alex tries to get Sitka to meow for me on the phone but I can't hear it. 4 more nights until I'm back with my boyz.

April 20

Valli bags on breakfast, full blown sick with a million things to take care of. I walk out to Friendly's, across the street. Growing up in NJ, this was one of my favorite ice cream places. Reese's Pieces Sundaes were a big deal. Now all I'd have is the Lo-Carb Vanilla Sundae with no sugar added fudge. Valli said her son loves this particular Friendly's... Bye again, Massachusetts.

Back in Saratoga Springs at the Downtowner Motel, where the staff is sardonically fun in a "too cool for the rooms" way. Last time it was a hoot dealing with them as well. These days I'm requesting downstairs rooms so as not to have to deal with lifting my large dead-zippered bag upstairs where there's no elevator. The smart aleck proprietor looks at me funny when I ask if there's wireless. It's not a silly request these days - the Super 8 Motel had it, as did the dive a mile down Route 9. She says she's trying to encourage her customers to not depend on all these gadgets like laptops and cellphones. As I bolt across the street to free wireless at the ultracool Uncommon Grounds coffeehouse (with Richard right behind me) I can only smirk, "Yeah, how's that goin'?"

I spend the next 90 minutes online trying to find some reasonable way to get myself to Boston on July 4th weekend. My pal Michael is having a gigantic 40th birthday bash and I already booked tickets for me & Alex to attend, but I'll have to dump them now - we booked a show in Monterey on Saturday July 2. No flight options really work, and all involve ridiculous travel times, rentals and hotels, only to lose the whole Sunday getting there. And it's all over but the fireworks on Monday, and I've seen those.... Yet another example of life continuing on without you as you ricochet, cocoon-like, down highway corridors from gig to gig with your band/second family. It's kind of like being in Europe - everything else gets forced onto the back burner. No matter how in touch you are via phone or email, you really, really are not there.

Byron Nillsson of the local Metroland magazine (he once gave us this great review) recommended the Putnam Market for my cheese jones. He was right on target. I get some aged gouda to see my through the day and some fairly lo carb tarot chips. I'll thank him later at the show. The 80 degree weather suddenly plummets to 55 in the late afternoon as light rain and wind whip through the area. There was a blizzard the last time we played here, so it's not a surprise. At soundcheck, I realize I forgot my pants at the hotel and run back in the rain to get them!

Caffe Lena is such a small room it's hard to NOT have fun. I wonder if this is the Caffe Lena that Devonsquare sang about on their album, Walking on Ice. About a million years ago, living in Portland, Maine, that and Cheryl Wheeler got me through an awful time I call "ages 20-21." Ah, youth. "Sandwich Man" is SO getting there - a lyric tweak or two is all it needs. The world gets even smaller when I meet a family that lives on Lopez Island, WA and knows the Alexanders (see Bob Tale "Northwest Oriented")! Maybe I'll see them the next time I go back. Did I write about that? I finally took the Alexanders up on their offer to see Lopez last October. We had an amazing weekend. Here's a picture of the leafy, tall gorgeousness. 

April 21

"Get Right Back to Where We Started From" is running through my head (thank you, Maxine Nightingale!) as we Thruway back down to Route 287 through Central New Jersey. Sometimes I wonder where all the folks I knew here are today. Are any of them living off of this exit? If I passed them on the Turnpike, would I recognize them? (This actually happened to me once on the Parkway about 10 years ago.)

The Four Points Sheraton in Allentown is a foofy bedded oasis from which I make a ton of phone calls and do emails. Our agent is bringing a ton of folks to Joe's Pub tomorrow so I must decline requests for comps for friends. I have to find out if Bob Malone is available for a Rhapsody gig and run the fall schedule by him. The spectre of a second call pianist for the show rattles its chains... we've discussed it before, and of course Bob is loathe to get one. But he's terrific, and it's only a matter of time before we book a gig that conflicts with something big for him that he should do instead. How we're going to find a classical pianist with a sense of blues and soul who can play the piece is another story...


Odd digestive issues during the show at Godfrey Daniels - can't quite get the breath I want to have tonight - and I know why. After a great cheeseburger across the street at Bridge Works I saw an ice cream place up by the Lehigh University bookstore. They had Sugar Free Moose Tracks ice cream. How could I resist? The bookstore itself was closed, with what looked like stuffed mooses and bears inside. I finished the ice cream right before showtime, and although the vocal consequences weren't terrible it's not something I'll do again. I also need to stop eating all this bread. Hard to believe I ate this crap for years and now it makes me feel awful.


The show is great - lyric changes to Sandwich Man totally work, Dan's puns are absolutely awful, someone yells "Shut Up and Sing!" My pal Gerard is there - we'll see each other on Sunday. I can't believe we've known each other since 1981 - during the show "The Boyfriend" at Parish Players in Plainfield, NJ. Our friendship even survived a European tour of "Jesus Christ Superstar" in 1985!

Back at the Four Points I reorganize my luggage so I only have to take a small bag out in NYC, watch the Daily Show, Letterman and Conan, and have trouble sleeping. What's going on? It's the END of the tour, for pete's sake - why is this happening now? In the middle of the night I send Richard an mp3 of another tune I think I'll have him produce for my album.

April 22

This hotel employs the Loudest Housekeepers Ever (said a la Simpsons Comic Book Collector Guy). At 7:30 a.m. they babble endlessly, louder than the planes landing a mile away at Lehigh Valley Airport. I shower, finishing up the Aveda Sap Moss shampoo and conditioner (I told you I was treating myself well on this trip!), pack up and abandon the chiropractic pillow I've had since the 1980's. It's smaller and more luggage-mushable than the great new one Alex bought me last year, but its powers have basically been sapped. Alex used the new one when I was on tour but he just bought a Tempurpedic pillow to match our new mattress (UNBELIEVABLE). So in an attempt to lighten my load in the home stretch, I thank this old friend for its service, wrap it in a hotel laundry bag and place it by the bathroom garbage can. It doesn't hit me until I do this how much of my life this pillow has been through. Maybe that's silly, but suddenly I'm, well, a little sad...

We are in Manhattan in no time at all. I nap uptown until heading for the Joe's Pub soundcheck at 5pm. It's delayed because there's a kids' birthday party going on - and I am having flashbacks to 80's Bar Mitzvahs as a zillion young voices mangle "Celebration" and "We Are Family." Finally we're in, it's quick, and we're out for dinner. I find amazing soups around the corner at Kathy's - sweet potato coconut (too sweet) and tomato basil - and a great salad at Sully's Deli. On the way back, I bump into our friend Fred from ASCAP, who is all achock with serious new swag for us, including cool-o shirts and a Jetsons type gym bag. He's brought some pals from ASCAP, also big Bobs fans. Dan's extra tall brothers start arriving.

Me and Miss Porridge

The show is a nuclear power plant of energy and the packed house roars when we do both very old and very new material. A friend of Richard's from 30 years ago emerges to say hello. Garth from The House Jacks and Rene from Toxic Audio. Someone from Birdland (where we'd LOVE to play) and a buncha folks our agent brought. Michael and his wife and their guests say a brief hello before heading out to dinner. All around a wonderful evening capped off by a visit with my British pal Sharon, from my educational but truly maddening years in LA as a radio promo/tour support person in the music biz. She's building quite a business chasing down publishing money in foreign countries for big time artists like Gwen Stefani. "Miss Porridge," as I call her, is a charming truck of a businesswoman. You go, girl!!

Miss P and I train it up to Grand Central, then part company. I head uptown with an overstuffed bag-o-swag and show stuff in the drizzly coolness of the night. It doesn't bother me at all to walk the four long blocks to 93rd and Columbus just before midnight. New York is a most wonderful place these days and I feel totally safe and at home. When I get there, Joe tells me the classic Spanish play he saw tonight was absolutely dreadful. That's what ya get for missing MY show!

April 23

After fits and starts of sleep (I should not have had that drink) we head for French Roast, a lovely café on 85th and Broadway, for a stellar brunch. Apparently a Croque Madame is a Croque Monsieur with an egg on it! (I have decided to forego a third Artisanal for petit dejeuner. New York is heavenly for the spirit and hellish for the wallet.) Joe and I talk about his new place further uptown, which I hope to see in the fall.

Up to Pawling in the drizzle. I drive out of the city, up the Hudson, remarking to Richard, "I am off to Yonkuhs, New Yohk to visit a Mistuh Horace Vandergelder." He laughs, chiding himself for getting the reference. Confession: although it's an absolutely TERRIBLE movie, "Hello, Dolly!" with Barbra Streisand and Walter Matthau has moments that sparkle. Gerard and I passed endless summer hours in central NJ, cataloguing its idiosyncracies sometime in the 80's, eating too many bags of Nacho Cheese Doritos, drinking endless liters of Coca-Cola. Little did I know that I would one day "share the stage" with La Streisand (at the Democratic National Convention in 2000 and her TIMELESS concerts at the Staples Center)... Quelle Name Dropper!

We're in Pawling in no time, arriving at 5 only to learn the show's at 9pm, not 8... we aren't staying here, so there's no hotel to nap in... I feed the kitties out back, Richard and I WiFi until Dan arrives, we soundcheck, then opt to purchase dinner from the amazing menu instead of eating the staff food (also excellent, but...). The goat cheese ravioli (only four of them, so, OK) and caesar salad do not disappoint. Phil's chefs are always top notch. I am eyeing the white chocolate lemon cheesecake for later...

We finally premiere my arrangement of "Freefallin." We suspect Matthew's insistence on doing the tune was rooted in this thought process: "I learned it, so we're DOING IT!" I'm glad we got it up. It suffers the usual first time stuff, but that's OK. You gotta keep on it. Phil requests "Art for Art's Sake" - and when the owner says jump, you jump! "My Shoes" is also a request, which we cobble together even though Dan doesn't know it. (Oh, it's so hard being the new person...)

Matthew vrooms towards the George Washington Bridge only to be sidelined by a flooded 9A. As we pay the toll entering the Henry Hudson Parkway, he sheepishly asks where the next gas station is. (I told you we wouldn't make it!) We get across the bridge with no delays late this foggy evening. The Newark Airport Hilton lobby is a party scene at 1 a.m....and Hiltons charge you for everything (parking, WiFi, local calls, etc.) ...very nickel and dimey... Matthew gets a room that hasn't even been made up. The toilet in mine is disgusting. (Ah, the glamour!)

A huge bar of cucumber soap from a cool store on Main St. in Sag Harbor, hotel toiletries (only the good stuff), MetroCards... pictures and notes from the kids in Fairfax, VA...all of my new clothes... the RHAPSODY music and notes for the Karamazov show in Arizona 10 days from now... everything is jammed into my broken luggage, which I tie together with the rope that came around the box of new T-shirts. I just gotta get the bag home in one piece...repacking until 3 a.m...when I sleep like a kitten next to his mommy... like my Sitka will sleep next to me tomorrow night...

(c) 2005 Amy Bob Engelhardt

THE BOBS: Workshops in Fairfax County, Virginia Elementary Schools, April 2005

Drawings and Comments from the Kids of Fairfax County Elementaries

 

 

April 2005 - Chapter Twenty Six - Travels with Yum Dum Dip, Div Gan & Virtual G, Part One - by Amy Bob

"And now , a trio... for three voices." (Williamsburg, VA)

April 4

My colon is lodged somewhere in my skull. This United flight is having descent difficulties we thought were due to high winds at Newark. The flight attendants announce that no one is to get up unless it's a medical emergency. When the yo-yoing continues and we endlessly circle Manhattan, they say the flaps aren't working, so we'll have an "unusual landing." They clear the runway so we can use all of it - we'll need it, coming in at such high speed - and emergency vehicles will meet us on the tarmac as protocol.

The plummeting continues as I read Entertainment Weekly one word at a time. The woman across the aisle from me, previously hocking up lung tissue between Koran readings, starts barfing. Someone rings the call button. Two flight attendants brace themselves somehow in the aisle, equipping the woman with an oxygen tank. I grab her coat from under her feet. We drop and drop. I am not scared - it just REALLY SUCKS in an "OK, we all have adrenal glands, now stop" way. The landing is no worse than any windy landing needing mega-brakes. Everyone applauds. I hand the sick woman the last of my water bottle as the flight attendants run up the aisle with large garbage bags - to collect barfbags.

My friend Michael, a nervous flyer at best, meets me at baggage claim. I sheepishly ask, "So, did you see all those emergency vehicles?" We head out to his place, stopping only for Dunkin Donuts (I only ate one!). Dinner at a diner. Nothing could be finer. The surly waitress is a welcome reminder that I'm back where I started, New Freakin' Jersey! Later on, his daughter Sandy shows us some karate that she learned, then promptly attacks the Bobs poster I brought her and her sister with magic markers, proclaiming, "I'm going to try to make you pretty."

April 5

Michael drops me at my friend Joe's place on the Upper West Side and I rush off to rehearsal, literally around the corner. Matthew's host Tony shares my passion for cheese and we discuss Artisanal at length. The Bobs plunge ahead with my "Giant Robot Store" chart, cracking up over its inherent silliness. A very productive rehearsal follows - a nice thing after a two month hiatus.

That night, Joe and I head to ARTISANAL, where our eyes roll upwards as Brillat Savarin, aged Gouda, Spanish Pau and Valeon Bleu escort us to Yumdom. I am planning to double dip, as it were, on this tour since we'll be back in NYC twice more! As we leave, a fairly toasted guy follows us out, extolling the virtues of the place and nudging Joe, saying how lucky he is, and that he hopes we go home and make love. It's a kick to both diffuse the situation and de-throne the man's control of the conversation by telling him that would be a great idea if only Joe were not my father (Joe is around 70). His subsequent blustering and apoplectic apologies are priceless!

Back at the ranch, I hardly sleep despite the quiet of the apartment... of course I float away during The Daily Show - the only thing I WANT to see - then am up for hours. Ah, the fun first days of being back East....

April 6

The Flying Karamazov Brothers are meeting us at a church up near Columbia for a rehearsal on this gorgeous, April gift of a day in New York. We're reviewing some of the pieces we did in our workshop of THE COMEDY OF ERAS two years ago for an upcoming double bill this May at Tucson's Centennial Hall and the Scottsdale Center for the Arts. Although some of tunes are simple, we also have to do some restaging, done in the basement gym all afternoon. It's fun to see the K's again - more goofballs to play with. And we are so glad to have had this day together to rehearse, what with the touring schedules of both groups and the fact that eight of us live in five different cities on different coasts...

The not sleeping is already getting to me, sadly, and I'd love to do something cool on such a glorious weeknight in Manhattan. But tomorrow is a hellishly long day, so after a nap I hop a train downtown to catch Bob Malone's 7pm show at the Living Room, a cool little hideaway in SoHo. Bob is fabulous as usual - and has apparently cut his famously shaggy hair and looks great! After a funny intro in which he talks about our showcase this past January at CAMI Hall ("It's always been my dream to play ACROSS FROM Carnegie Hall"), he invites me up to sing. We do the tune we wrote together for Meat Loaf's last album (which, after we did several revisions he and his peeps requested, was not chosen to be ON the album, which subsequently tanked in the U.S.) and alles gut until he screws up the last chorus. We laugh and he apologizes in front of the audience. I tell them when he knows the song better we'll do it AT Carnegie Hall. You can hear our recorded version of tune HERE.

I must have my slice of NY Pizza!!!! Famous Original Ray's on Houston, baybee!!!! Someday I'm going in search of The Pizza Line. That meridian west of New York past which the pizza starts to suck. Chicago won't count since it's such its own thing. Wanna come? I call Alex and read the Village Voice before heading uptown.

April 7

Matthew cannot possibly have missed me, standing outside the building with all my stuff. But when he calls from the cab, I realize I told him Amsterdam and 93rd, not Columbus! Oy.

BBC 1, BBC 2, BBC 3...

Eventually we reach the studios of ABC News, where Matthew's host Sarah (and seeing her "I am the Slayer" T-shirt on the wall, I briefly bond with her over Buffy) has secured us a studio for a BBC Radio Two interview. Graham Pass and Russell Davies are recording us for their six hour series, LIVING IN HARMONY, which will air all over Europe in May. Jolly good, eh? It's a wonderful hour spent laughing and singing - can't wait to hear what they use from it!


We van it to Newark Airport to pick up our Bobmobile, (a.k.a. Home for the next 2700 miles). Apparently no one wants to go to Great Adventure (where you're part of the fun) so we head directly to Trenton's War Memorial. Tech director Bill tells us the place was flooded by the Delaware Monday and Tuesday. Yikes! The ON PATRIOTS' STAGE series we are playing is literally that - seats are up on the stage facing the huge, beautiful theater. A platform stage sits just past the proscenium atop a built-out portion over the orchestra pit. At first it's odd having our backs to the auditorium, but the intimacy of the stage setting is really wonderful. (Naturally we'll bow to both sides at the end of the show.) The tech staff is a hoot - sarcastic as all get out - it's SO good to be back on the east coast! But they must have gone to town when I got a mammoth case of the giggles during soundcheck and couldn't continue because I was crying too hard. It was really bad - hearkening back to the "It's like when there's a Robot" incident (See the March 2000 Bob Tale, I Bob, Therefore I-95). Dan almost got sucked in. I blame the donut I had in the car on the way. Sugar is professionally hazardous, kids!

The show is great. Guitar great Woody Mann, who flew in from Frankfurt just hours before, hosts the series, opens, and sits in on "Unchain My Heart." We premiere "Giant Robot Store" and even get through it without cracking up (I am not just referring to myself here). "Beluga" is also great in its second outing. (You can actually hear that recording of that show at that link!) Such a creepy tune, so atmospheric and non-Amylike - super fun to do. Ever applause whores, Matthew and I get props for reciting the exits for places we lived in NJ.

After the show we head for Newburgh, NY in a downpour, up Route 206 through preppy Lawrenceville and up to 87. I reconsider writing about Night Clerk Hell when we reach the Howard Johnson's at 1 a.m. but am distracted by my own miraculous sleeping through the night.

April 8

The Gateway Diner glowed like a beacon when we pulled in last night, and the parking lot is crowded (a great sign) this morning. Matthew says something about "Charleston Heston," prompting Richard, Dan and I to dance spastically in the booth, singing things like "Won't You Shoot-doodly-doot with Me?" Dan tells us about his new house in Seattle (Congratulations!) and confesses that he seems to have left his loop pedal in NJ. Thus begins his descent into a wormhole of calls chasing it down. Is this a vocal percussionist thing or a tenor thing? Joe used to forget things constantly...

Rick McCurdy, The Bobs, and Craptrap Choir members

We do a master class/vocal workshop for the chorus and some stray instrumentalists at Newburgh Free Academy. Teacher Rick McCurdy, who brought us here, has made goofy posters from the power tools shot and even goofier radio promos using clips from the CDs. The madrigal group, run by Rachel Merrill, sings a few great tunes for us. The kids are having fun and it shows. Often we see groups where the kids look pained while singing. The kind of thing where you want to say, "Sweetie, why are you doing this?" A trio of young men also croons a tune that's particularly cool. We talk about stage shyness and Rick notes that, if there's a live microphone onstage, "Next thing you know there are five or six kids around it like a crabtrap." We have the new band name: Crabtrap!

The show that night is odd but fun. "Giant Robot" is improving, although I do start to laugh in the middle when Dan and I start doing robot moves whilst crooning "bleep, bloop, bleep, bloop." Matthew has his eyes closed during this section, otherwise I'm pretty sure he'd have been gone as well! "Naming the Band" works even though Richard makes all the 6/4 measures into two 4/4 measures! "Fluffy" is back in the set.

Back at the hotel, a ton of e-mail, some documentaries (welcome relief from the nonstop Pope-a-thon), and my best sleep yet!

April 9

Some days you don't go anywhere. And some days you TRAVEL FOR 7 HOURS.

I am sometimes a dufus

Matthew and I hit the diner again and discuss Seattle's new Moisture Festival, apparently a huge success. Friends of The Bobs put together this awesome Vaudevillian smorgasbord that has been selling out all month. They asked us to be a part of it but we were already booked solid on the opposite coast. Maybe next year.

The drive all the way to Williamsburg includes a fruitless stop back at the War Memorial to attempt to find Dan's loop pedal. We end up buying one at a nearby music store and I take over driving, steering us down 295 towards Delaware. Crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge I'm on a conference call with my pals Mark and Treece in San Francisco, shaping a show opening this July at the New Conservatory Theater. We discuss form, content, musical choices as I intermittently ask Richard, in the passenger seat, for toll change.

Endless 95's later we are tunneling East on Route 64 from Richmond as Richard steers and sneezes. It's about 6:30 p.m. and we are stir crazy. Thank god we don't have a show tonight. Just as we pull into the Courtyard by Marriott (one of my favorite chains - free hi-speed internet and nice mattresses), the conversation about hiking in the Grand Canyon ends with Richard's pithy summation: "There nothing worse than a bald donkey on a steep slope."

Dan's having another pizza night. Matthew, Richard and I head for The Whaling Company for fine steaks and seafood. Walking is a circulatory revelation after what will hopefully be the longest drive of the tour - but I have a sad suspicion that DC to Sag Harbor will be worse - AND we have a show that night. (Please make me wrong, O Gods of the Northeast Corridors!) Matthew and I pore over the "Welcome to Colonial Williamsburg" guide. When did this historically significant area turn into a pancake and waffle mecca? Richard deftly observes, "Look around you." Laughing all the way back to the hotel, Matthew and I decide that, since I don't have a "Do Not Disturb" sign in my room, I should make a Colonial Williamsburg one that says "Ye'd best not wake me, or I'll tan your arse." We pass up an excursion to "Rosie Rumpe's Dinner Theater" to turn in early.

Back in my room I run a bath. I am so not a perfume-y chick, but I like specific product lines...and Alex gave me a basket of the foofy Gilchrist & Soames Spa Therapy products I dig for Christmas, so I brought most of them along as a treat for the long haul. Mmmmmmmmm. As I recline in the tub, surrounded by candles, with classical music piping in from the other room, I think about the last time I was in Colonial Williamsburg. About 30 years ago, Grandpa Benny and Grandma Charlotte, brave souls indeed, piled four grandkids into a car for the trip here from NJ. We stayed at the Williamsburg Inn. I wasn't crazy about the edumacational part of the trip, but boy did I like running up and down the halls of the hotel. (Please don't tell The Bobs I still do!)

April 10

Nothing is open in this town on Sundays. Well, Starbucks... and Subway... What is up with that? On the seventh day, they ate, too, ya dorks! I drop Matthew and Richard at the movies and head for the Candle Company. Way less interesting than the Yankee Candle Company in Greenfield, Mass. (where we'll be in 10 day's time). Endless Carbo Castles on Route 60 - "Williamsburg's Retail Highway" include "Stack 'Em High," and "Belgian Waffle Kingdom." Spotting a poster for our show, I discover it's not at the location we thought. Good thing I looked!

Gorgeous day, really. The summer ugh doesn't set in here for another month or so. I don't recall this being so strip mall-y. This part of the country would not be my vacation choice, but I still find it disturbing when forests start to not look like forests anymore. The WalMartification of America.

The show, part of the Dewey Decibel Series at the Library Theater, is great fun (and yes, geeky jokes are made by all). Richard speaks to his Virginia peeps from the heart. Matthew continues to crack us up in "Lonely at the Top." I realize I am singing "Boy Around the Corner" with a guy wearing a kilt. A lovely couple tells me afterwards that The Bobs' "Particle Man" played a role in their courtship years ago (WHAT?!) Folks thank us for coming all the way down here.

Plans are made to hit a castle-o-carbs in the morning. Yes, I am spearheading the effort - one supreme dive will not hurt me...for long...

April 11

I know I've spent too much time with Matthew: I dreamt about his son not wanting to eat vegetables... and although I am pretty tired it's Matthew who bags out on Mama Steve's! Richard and I blow past "The Gazebo Waffle House," "The Original Pancake House," and IHOP (why bother?) to the plumpy paradise. Don't know if Mama herself was our waitress... her makeup was thicker than the syrup. The Bacon Yummies (pancakes with bacon in the batter) were, sadly, excellent. As I type this in the backseat, headed towards DC, my dizzy extra strength Tums regimen has already begun. TOTALLY WORTH IT!!!

We reach Lorton, VA in two hours or so on this beautiful Monday, our last day off until Sunday. Our hotel reservations are a mess - no surprise there. The next two days we're doing workshops for a school district and those are notoriously disorganized. At least we're not arriving after a 7 hour drive - those desk clerk encounters are beyond description!

We meet to rehearse a bit in Matthew's room. Nothing major as we are all still tired and Richard is just getting over his cold. My new tune, "Sandwich Man," is shaping up - we might try it in a school show to get it on its feet. "Alabama Song" is still a bear. "Freefallin'" is almost there as well and should be thrown in this week. There's always a first first time and no matter if it's shaky it's important to throw things into the set. And frankly it's a luxury to be in a band like The Bobs in which we can actually say, "Hey, this is a world premiere!"

After a brief stop at the Potomac Mills outlets (Richard get shoes, Dan gets a particularly Fruit Stripe Gum shirt, Matthew a belt - THANK GOD - and me a cool-o laptop case I will sadly return later 'cuz mah compuder don't fit), we head for Hard Times to meet Fred Parker for dinner. Fred updates us on this year's Halloween time machine. (See Bob Tale MATO) Apparently a neighborhood kid questioned its integrity this year, telling him it couldn't be real since it only went into the past. So this year, Fred took them into a future era in which humans lived underground and giant cicadas attacked with shocking regularity! That'll show those whippersnappers.

My friend Nick DeGregorio meets us at Hard Times in Alexandria (you MUST look at the picture on this page!). He's conducting the Big River tour, parked in DC until June. Nick and I are pals from way back - 20 years ago - in Jersey summer stock. A total goofball with a heart of gold and a permanent case of potty-mouth that even rivals mine! When Nick lived in LA, he and I and our friend Bart (also from NJ) just let it all rip over a couple beers, laughing until it hurt, cursing up a storm. Things haven't changed - he's all goony about his new scooter ("It's a real chick magnet, Aim - I'm tellin' you.") 


On his way to the restaurant, Nick snapped a picture of the headquarters of the Snack Food Association. "Crabtrap and the Snack Food Association" is the official new band name. And maybe I should explain the second picture to the right... Nick and I met in "Pirates of Penzance" in 1985. One of the promotional events for the show was an appearance at a mall. Needless to say, I took the opportunity to shop. Nick was, apparently, still a pirate.


Matthew says we're meeting in the lobby at 8:45 a.m. I didn't even know there were two 8:45's in a day!

April 12 and 13

These two days are spent doing eight workshops at four different Fairfax County Elementary Schools. (Thankfully there were no concerts at night - like we have ANY energy after a 4 workshop day!) The music teachers prepared the kids ahead of time for our visit, so they were familiar with us and knew some of our songs - a little TOO well! There's nothing quite like the sound of 200 kids doing The Wave to The Druid Song. Or chanting "Fluffy's Master Plan For World Domination" back at you. Teachers tell us they yelled "Fluffy Rules!" in the hallways. I felt this weird combination of awe ("That's my tune!") and bemused terror ("What hath I wrought!?"). We were blown backwards by the roar that went up after the final choruses. Too funny. To see some of the pictures and letters given to us by kids in these schools, click HERE.

Dan leads a vocal percussion demonstration in Fairfax, VA

 

Best questions from the kids (in grades K-6):

Do you lip synch? (They knew the term but not necessarily what it meant)
Have you ever sung for a real audience?
Did you go through a lot of hard times before becoming the stars you are now?
Do you play smooth jazz? (this from an 8-year old)
I can be a xylophone!
Is it over? (Matthew turned this one around by asking, "What, you want to send everyone back to class?" Smartass kid is subsequently booed until he turns green.)


Selected Shorts:

Young girl, to Amy: "Where did you learn that song about cats?"
Amy, to young girl: "I actually wrote that song."
Girl's mouth drops to the floor in amazement/terror?


Young boy, to Dan: "You're more social than the other Bobs."
Dan, to young boy: "Matthew's just trying to cultivate a mystique."
Amy, to Dan: "So that's what that smell is." A-hahahahahha.

April 14

Apparently it is futile to attempt to do anything else while on the road. I brought materials to review for the Frances Faye project (the one I had the conference call for last weekend) but cannot wrap my head around it. Concentration is just not on the list of available brain uses. You'd think that, with lots of downtime in hotel rooms, I'd be looking for ANYTHING to pass the time, but strangely enough it's not the case. I usually turn down social invitations, too. Eating, sleeping (or attempting sleep), drinking tons of water and vegging out with the TV on are about all I can muster. I write an e-mail apology to my colleagues on the project and they're cool with it. Treece is coming down to LA later next month so we'll hash it out then. Still, I am disappointed in my lack of focus. I am Super Amy! I am a multi-tasker! I am... napping...

I do manage to drag myself out on yet another beautiful afternoon to see a movie. I reach the mall late thanks to Mapqworst. "The Upside of Anger" is pretty good. Joan Allen's amazing but so thin she looks like a Pez dispenser. And if she's that thin on film, she's worse in real life. Eat something, will ya? Kevin Costner is great in the film - some of which rings very true.

Alex calls to say a good friend's dad has passed away in Massachusetts and the memorial is on Monday. If our Worcester film festival plans had panned out (they didn't - this week was supposed to be the premiere of THE BOBS REMAIN THE SAME - see Bob Tale Worcester? I Hardly Know Her!) I could have attended. Instead we'll be in NYC that day. I'll try to get away to see her while we're in Northampton. I also find out that my grandma's taken a spill in Florida and needs eye surgery. Yet another event I can't be there for. I have often wondered about what will happen if one of us has a personal emergency on the road. Hope to not find out.

Bob Malone is waiting at Wolf Trap - he drove down from Albany. We rehearse and plan the official RHAPSODY IN BOB set, experimenting with a 90-minute format instead of two 45 minute sets with intermission. This way we build towards the end of the show - The Rhapsody. It turns out to be a great plan, even though we only get to do 11 Bobs tunes (and that's hard to agree on!). Rhapsody takes up 20 minutes, and Bob's two songs before it use 10 more.

The show is great (save for mike troubles for Richard). We record Beluga to send to Trenton radio stations - a lost Beluga Whale is swimming up the Delaware these days and we've been inundated with emails alleging our chanting of the song brought it there! Witness the Awesome Power that is THE BOBS!!!

TO DO LAUNDRY WITH AMY BOB AND CONTINUE THE TOUR, CLICK HERE...