Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Four Autumns, Four Bobs, Four Corners, No Waiting



HEY, KIDS! RUN YOUR CURSOR OVER THE PICTURES TO SEE FUN CAPTIONS!

Wednesday, 10/21/09

After a day in Seattle recording part of the new album (and my drooling over the autumn colors), we fly en masse to Denver, where the Denver airport is SO damn long… every time I have to change planes here I invariably land at Gate 42 and need to get to Gate 95. Yes, 95! And most of the United terminal is one continuous hallway. As I told Richard, it’s like being in a Stephen King book, where a normally non-threatening setting becomes one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. But it’s OK… we’re bound for a new airport, which I find oddly exciting these days.

Durango, Colorado has four gates. And everything’s closed, so the trail mix I gulped on the plane will have to suffice. Dan’s sister Mary, with whom I have had many Facebook chats (and who I highly suspect would be Mah Drinkin’ Buddy if I lived here) picks us up around 10:30pm. It’s a crisp 40 degrees and I dig it. On the 45-minute ride to Farmington, we discuss various All-State Choruses: her students auditioning for New Mexico, Dan auditioning in Wyoming in 1990, me in New Jersey in… (aw crap!). After that I can’t get the alto part to “The Silver Swan” out of my head for the rest of the ride. On the dark drive south, as an altitude headache chooses a bat, on deck in the back of my brain, Mary fills us in on Farmington Fun Facts: Republican in a very blue state, not as near the Four Corners as I’d hoped, and sarcastically called “Charmington” by Durango-ites (Durango is “hippie snow town” to Farmingtonians. The Eugene of the Rockies?) We ascend and descend over dark mountains as fog slips in and out, Dan sees a shooting star and lights glimmer, then seemingly disappear into canyons. This is gonna be pretty when we actually get to see it on the way back Friday morning…

The Super 8 is indeed pretty super – quiet and clean, free WiFi. I fall asleep to Bill Maher and company.


Thursday, 10/22/09

The New Mexico morning sun blasts over the mesa that borders Farmington. It’s clear that this is not Farmville, the Facebook game, as I am not handed any cows or pigs upon leaving the hotel. The dry, crisp sting in the day is welcome – although it’ll eventually be in the 60s. And Mary and Kira (Dan’s soccer-player niece) are eerily functional at 9:00 a.m. We buzz Starbucks on the way to the workshop. I can’t buy the cool New Mexico mug – we have too many mugs now, and my policy is to only buy mugs from places (mainly Northern, of course) where I am sure I want to live – like Vancouver, Seattle, New York, etc. I don’t own a Los Angeles mug – ha!

The Piedra Vista Pipes are an enthusiastic ensemble of high schoolers, led by the irrepressible Virginia Nickels-Hircock, whose high desert energy is surely solar powered. The kids ask great questions and sing us a song called “Sweater Weather” that sounds like a more poetic “Kill Your Television” – the lyricist plays with turns of phrase and clichés that sound funny side by side. Matthew posits that The Bobs do it. The bigger session in the school’s gorgeous theater, for three school groups (including a ceramics class?) is also a hoot. Another ensemble sings a Coldplay tune for us and we work on group pulse with them. Their version of “In My Life” is a music educator’s diction dream.

About 25 of us head for Si Señor for some local (New) Mexican eats, but (I couldn’t make this up) the place is evacuated due to a gas leak. We’ve barely sampled their infamous “white sauce” and chips before we’re headed for Fuddrucker burgers. (No, Señor!) We mingle and munch over malts and meat at the Fudd. Some of the kids ask us about college. "Do I study music like I want to?" “My parents won’t pay for that – they want me to do X." One guy is obsessed with Berklee. How can I advise them? I say what I always say, and firmly believe: “If you can be happy doing ANYTHING else, do it. And don’t go to a conservatory-type school first if you have the option – you can always change paths later.” Later on, we’ll learn that some local kids freak out and return to Farmington when things don’t pan out for them right away after college. I can understand that instinct – this feels like a very safe place.

On the way to the show we cross town to sample Durango Joe’s, a local coffee place at which Matthew declares “A Great Cup of Coffee” is to be found.

The show is at the gorgeous Brooks-Isham Performance Center, a jewel of a venue in the middle of the high desert – literally on a county road in Kirtland, NM (past Shiprock, from which you can clearly see the huge Monument Valley-type rock it was named for). And it’s a SUPER, albeit oxygen-challenged show (we are at about 5300 feet). It amazes me how some audiences who’ve never heard of us lap us up like honey, while others completely don’t get us. It doesn’t seem to matter whether we do more conservative shows in the places where we elicit confusion – meaning mostly more familiar cover tunes and a leash on the bizarre humor. These folks are GREAT. Afterwards, we talk to the Director of the venue about returning, possibly with the Rhapsody in Bob show and more outreach programs.

The pizza at Three Rivers Brewery gets me. BBQ chicken, tons of cheese and sweet, sweet caramelized onions. Ah well. I’ll try to be carbless tomorrow. We laugh and drink and swap stories of bad gigs, cool cars and The Cilantro Takes Like Soap Gene (which Dan and I both have). The rest of downtown Farmington is closed up for the night…



Friday 10/23/09



“Hey, that’s the same sun from the pictures of New Mexico,” I groggily chirp as we board Mary and Rick’s van one last time. Rick checks us out of the Super 8 with way too much energy for 7:30 a.m. and we trundle back up the hills of the San Juans to the Durango-La Plata County Airport. The morning light reveals gorgeous yellow leaves set back against shrubby mesas, a huge, cloudless sky, and eventually, the snow-capped San Juans in the distance. We pass small farms, construction projects and many trailer parks. I pop more Advil. Dan points out The Ol’ Meat Shop, sending us spasming into giggles.


The Frontier flight is eventless, save for the plane being nicknamed “Seymore” after a baby harp seal and a super officious flight attendant. Richard is reading Stendahl’s The Red and the Black. I geekily hum Sondheim’s line from A Little Night Music, “There isn’t much blue in The Red and The Black.” Will my musical theater upbringing ever retreat into the recesses of my hard drive? (No.) And we’re BACK in Denver… shuttling to the Microtel, extremely near the airport - so much so we see tumbleweeds - and extremely quiet. We all buzz the Diner for lunch and then, I believe, all nap until we’re picked up for the show around 4pm…



…by Über-Bobs fan David McMillen (see my December 2002 Bob Tale, Silver Bobs, Part Two), with whom I arranged this gig. Super-Dave (aided by his wife Mishi, son Ty and able assistant Diane, all big Bobs fans as well) originally booked us to do a double bill will Denver local vocal powerhouse FACE. When the Mile High Vocal Jam was announced soon afterwards (an a cappella festival featuring The House Jacks and various clinicians) for the same date, he partnered with that promoter (sound god Tony Huerta) and the gigs merged, so as not to force fans to choose between the two. And as of this week, our pal Blake Lewis
(formerly of Dan’s Seattle band, KICKSHAW and lately of American Idol notoriety), got added to the lineup. These festivals are always a lot of fun, although they do tend to run long…

Highlights: Rediscovering at the Meet-N-Greet that Deke Sharon (CASA, the House Jacks) is extremely funny, FACE’s trademark arrangement of “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana (YES! A fascinating choice – why can’t more vocal groups be this adventurous?), adorable Blake’s monster sampling-DJ set including audience voices (and a jam with Dan and other former KICKSHAW bandmates Trist Curless (from m-pact, here as a clinician) and Jake Moulton (now singing with the groovalicious House Jacks.


OUR short set is immense fun. Blake joins us for a funked out version of “Searchin’” and the gracious, immensely Brangin’-It Mark Megibow of FACE (who I met when I judged the Harmony Sweeps in Marin in 2007) Ginger Bakers us in a march-rock-like “White Room” in which I’m now quoting “25 or 6 to 4” in the guitar solo. The place explodes.

My Denver pals Mimi and Dan bring me a beautiful necklace… wish I had time for another full visit with them. When we played Golden a few years ago, they picked me up and took me to Red Rock for the day for a truly beautiful afternoon. And I’m reunited with a pal I haven’t seen in … dare I say it… 24 years. Dorinda and I were last seen together romping in Plays-in-the-Park’s Pirates of Penzance and Evita in central New Jersey. It’s wonderful and amazing to hear of her successes in music and film here Denver. I’ve got to come back just to hang with her and Mimi. Seriously! You can see all of Dorinda's pictures here.


Saturday, 10/24/09

Seriously excellent sleep (guess the altitude helped exhaust me). And we’re back at the Denver International Airport for the 3rd time in four days. And we’re so giddy that we’re listening closely to standby passenger announcements in order to mock people’s names. (That’s how you know we’re professionals… and… adults….) We’re picked up at Midway and shuttled to Schaumburg, showered and shipped to the Prairie Center for the Arts.

…which I am shocked that I don’t remember, having played here in 2000. It’s true that travels tend to blend together, but I’d like to think I always have at least one specific memory from everywhere we’ve played. Have I finally started losing the brain cells that contain THIS information, too? Especially since the whole staff is SO great – tech director Ethan, hospitality coordinator Pat, the humorous dudes that drove us everywhere (including the inhumane hour airport pickup for Matthew on Sunday). We’re supposed to be doing a Q&A as part of the Midwest A Cappella Fest Part II (Part I was in Detroit last weekend), but it’s canceled - a bummer for several reasons, including that we all could have used another hour at the hotel to nap… Dinner is an excellent feast from Bonefish Grill. A Cappella Festers seemingly emerge from the corners of the building for photos as Dan and I set up merchandise sales with the front of house folks. Very flattering.

The show is pretty great – a rowdy crowd again (that’s three in a row) that includes my cousins, aunt and uncle and a friend from Berklee I haven’t seen since I left Boston in 1990. We’ll catch up in Chicago on Monday, hopefully. I break the strap to my dress yet again spazzing out in “White Room”… Lots of pix with enthusiastic Fest coordinators Greg Vaden and Jeff Swearingen of Elmothumm. Maybe we’ll return in 2010 to do the Detroit show with them.


Sunday, 10/25/09

When I wake up around 9:30 in a comfy king bed, I think about Matthew, already 90 minutes into his flight to San Francisco (he’s trying to get to a Santa Cruz wedding today), Dan at O’Hare and Richard at Midway taking off right about now. Suckuhs. My cousin’s hubby is picking me up in an hour for a day of gooniness in the Chicago ‘burbs with my aunt & uncle from Columbus, my cousins and two silly little girls who like to scream when they find ladybugs in the backyard. There will be great food. I will discover the wonders of Home Goods (Cost Plus World Market-y). 4-year old Lily will propose a toast at dinner and declare that “Whoever whines gets no dessert.” I will meet a spooky, animatronic cat (my cousin is allergic but Lily is obsessed).

And I’ll end up in Lincoln Park, where the yellow/green trees, light drizzle and a soft streetlight send my brain barrelling straight back to Boston, and Portland, and my early 20’s dreams of my life-to-be. And I'll lunch and dinner with friends from Syracuse and Berklee who add to the sense of reverie. And cousin Julie, I shall never reveal on Facebook what you told me about your intestines the last night I stayed over!