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April 2005
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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?
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| Amy at 15, in Edison, NJ Wish I could tell me that it will all be OK |
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.
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.
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.
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| Me and Miss Porridge |
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 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
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